Fic: Moments II
Title: Moments II, Chapter 3
Disclaimer: Bones belongs to FOX, Hanson and Reichs
Rating: T
Spoilers: Any aired episodes, but I'm spoiler free!
Moments II Chapter 1, Chapter 2
Moments
oOoOoOo
The door opens without a sound and the porch swing only emits a low creak from the worn wooden slats when Brennan sits down. She wonders what else Booth did last night. When she leans forward to put her empty mug on the porch railing she has her answer.
The old, rusted tractor sits in the middle of the yard. The motor and a few other parts are laid out on a tarp. “I hope he's not planning to take it to D.C.” is her first thought. Booth forms attachments to things. When they were work partners she did not really think about it. But now, when she spends a lot of time at his place, when she has lost count on the number of times she has felt him pull at her hand and found him smiling over something in the window display of a second hand store, she is very much aware of it. Though she can't accuse him of being materialistic, because honestly, the things that light up his face are mostly old junk. His attachments has nothing to do with monetary value and all to to with memories.
Sundays are quieter. Even here they are quieter, where there are no busy office buildings or steady hum of traffic to divide weekdays from weekends. Brennan hears the car before she sees it. The driver looks vaguely familiar. Probably one of the neighbors who came to the funeral, she thinks as she goes to meet him.
The glass dish is still warm.
"The wife made it. Figured you'd be busy enough without having to cook too."
"Tell her thank you."
Her visitor leans back on his heels, takes in the tractor. "So, have you decided if you're keeping the place? I seem to remember Margaret mentioning both of you have jobs in D.C."
Brennan wants to point out that she has no legal rights, that it has nothing to do with her. But in this place the lines have been more blurred from the first time she came up here with Booth. Here he has never introduced her with his usual “This here's my partner, Dr Temperance Brennan.” Here they are Seeley and Temperance, not Special Agent Seeley Booth and Forensic Anthropologist Temperance Brennan, have been since the first time they walked into Sarah Borden's gas station together.
"We'll see."
oOoOoOo
"Mrs Booth, do you want to put the leftovers in the fridge or the freezer? Mrs Booth?"
Jared nudges Brennan. "She means you."
"No, she doesn't"
"Yes, she does. So are you going to give her your speech on how marriage is an unrealistic social construct or are you going to let my brother have this one?"
They both look across the room to where Booth is talking to the remaining funeral guests.
"Why shouldn't I share my view on marriage, why mislead her?"
"She wouldn't get your point. Up here you get married. She'd just wonder what the problem was. What Seeley had done wrong."
"I'll go check things in the kitchen."
"I'll help you."
"Shouldn't you go talk to the guests?"
"As if anyone would notice. Seeley's the favorite Booth brother around here."
oOoOoOo
"I'd better get going. Maybe we'll see you and Seeley in church?"
I don't believe in myths and Booth was up half the night, as he has been most nights the last few weeks, she wants to reply.
"Maybe."
Booth protests when she opens the curtains.
"It's morning."
"Sunday, day of rest," he yawns and reaches for her arm.
She lands in a tangled heap of arms and legs.
"Oof, careful. I think you broke my ribs."
"That would require more force. But If I had, it would have been your own fault," Brennan adds as she burrows her nose into Booth's neck and slips her hands under his t-shirt.
"You've been out without a coat again, haven't you?"
"I only meant to get some fresh air, but one of the neighbors stopped by."
"Who?"
"Don't remember his name. But you've got yet another meat casserole to finish." Brennan slides one of her legs between Booth's both. "We should continue going through everything."
"If you do things like that we're not going anywhere."
"I'm cold. We haven't even been up in the attic."
"No rush, we have several days. "
"Then why did you stay up all night?"
Before Brennan can register what is happening Booth has disentangled himself and grabbed a towel, hers.
"Fine, mind if I take a shower first? Did you leave any hot water?"
He disappears down the hall before she has a chance to reply. With a sigh she gets up. She looks down on the floor when she steps on something soft. Booth's t-shirt, figures.
oOoOoOo
Her jacket settles on her shoulders like a soft embrace.
"I'm sorry."
"I told you, you don't have to hide from me."
"I know."
"So why do you keep doing it?"
"It's got nothing to do with you." Booth holds out his hand. Waiting. Eventually she curls her fingers around his, lets herself be pulled up from her seat and follows him down the steps, along the icy path.
"This is were I'd end up, sooner or later, after I'd been overseas."
Brennan remains quiet. By now she's learned she really doesn't have to say much.
"No one ever tells you the most difficult part is coming home. You try and prepare for what's going to happen over there. It's still a shock, but you knew it would be."
"It's another part of the world," Brennan agrees.
"It's more than that, it's another reality. And then you have to fit into the old one again. You try your best, but you don't, you've changed. Your brain tells you nobody will throw a bomb into your car on Independence Avenue in D.C., yet your gut is screaming at you not to stop at red lights."
Booth waits for her to step through the gate and closes it behind them. The field is covered in a feathery layer of snow. Nobody has walked across it since it fell.
"You tell your kid he's too heavy to sit on your shoulders to watch the fireworks on fourth of July, but the truth is you're afraid you'll start shaking and drop him when it starts."
"But people ask you about it?"
"Yeah, but most want to know how many you've killed. Or expect you to have solutions to the problems there."
They walk along a narrow path, avoiding the patches of smooth ice.
"Gran never asked anything. Eventually I'd tell her anyway. Told her how the noise of a thunderstorm made me want to take cover under a table the first weeks back. Why I didn't like fireworks anymore."
Booth stops when they come to another gate, leans against the graying fence.
"I'm trying to work out how to do it without her. How to live without her."
"When you were dead, I..."
"Temperance, please."
"When I thought you were dead, I wished, although I knew it was irrational and impossible, that I could see you one more time. I needed you to know that I was doing okay without you."
"And did you?"
"I got dressed in the mornings. I went to the lab."
Brennan kicks at a crossbar. "You concentrate on getting through from one minute to the next. Wait for it to stop hurting."
"How long does that take?"
"Don't know. Longer than two weeks. If you're lucky you have a friend like Angela. Someone who tells you you look like crap and forces you to go out to dinner and keeps you company when you push the food around your plate. Who notices when it suddenly hits you on a busy platform in the metro and makes you put your head between your knees when you can't breathe."
oOoOoOo
Brennan rearranges the dishes to fit the latest one in the fridge too. They mentioned in passing at the funeral when they would be back to go through Margaret's things. A row of casseroles and cakes welcomed them on the porch when they returned. She puts three of the five colanders in the box for Goodwill and reaches for a tin on the top shelf in the pantry.
"No, that definitely goes with the to-keep things." Booth grabs the old battered tin from her.
"Booth, it's dented, the lid won't fit properly."
"I'm keeping it."
Margaret walks over to the pantry returning with a battered tin in her hands. "I've got some peanut brittle left."
Booth smiles as he sits down opposite his grandmother, tracing a dent in the blue and white painted metal with his right index finger.
"Jared dared me to climb up and get it once while you were out. I dropped it and the lid came off. There was peanut brittle all over the floor. But we managed to pick it up before you came back. We were so relieved you didn't find out."
"I did. The floor was sticky and I kept stepping on peanuts for days."
oOoOoOo
Disclaimer: Bones belongs to FOX, Hanson and Reichs
Rating: T
Spoilers: Any aired episodes, but I'm spoiler free!
Moments II Chapter 1, Chapter 2
Moments
oOoOoOo
The door opens without a sound and the porch swing only emits a low creak from the worn wooden slats when Brennan sits down. She wonders what else Booth did last night. When she leans forward to put her empty mug on the porch railing she has her answer.
The old, rusted tractor sits in the middle of the yard. The motor and a few other parts are laid out on a tarp. “I hope he's not planning to take it to D.C.” is her first thought. Booth forms attachments to things. When they were work partners she did not really think about it. But now, when she spends a lot of time at his place, when she has lost count on the number of times she has felt him pull at her hand and found him smiling over something in the window display of a second hand store, she is very much aware of it. Though she can't accuse him of being materialistic, because honestly, the things that light up his face are mostly old junk. His attachments has nothing to do with monetary value and all to to with memories.
Sundays are quieter. Even here they are quieter, where there are no busy office buildings or steady hum of traffic to divide weekdays from weekends. Brennan hears the car before she sees it. The driver looks vaguely familiar. Probably one of the neighbors who came to the funeral, she thinks as she goes to meet him.
The glass dish is still warm.
"The wife made it. Figured you'd be busy enough without having to cook too."
"Tell her thank you."
Her visitor leans back on his heels, takes in the tractor. "So, have you decided if you're keeping the place? I seem to remember Margaret mentioning both of you have jobs in D.C."
Brennan wants to point out that she has no legal rights, that it has nothing to do with her. But in this place the lines have been more blurred from the first time she came up here with Booth. Here he has never introduced her with his usual “This here's my partner, Dr Temperance Brennan.” Here they are Seeley and Temperance, not Special Agent Seeley Booth and Forensic Anthropologist Temperance Brennan, have been since the first time they walked into Sarah Borden's gas station together.
"We'll see."
oOoOoOo
"Mrs Booth, do you want to put the leftovers in the fridge or the freezer? Mrs Booth?"
Jared nudges Brennan. "She means you."
"No, she doesn't"
"Yes, she does. So are you going to give her your speech on how marriage is an unrealistic social construct or are you going to let my brother have this one?"
They both look across the room to where Booth is talking to the remaining funeral guests.
"Why shouldn't I share my view on marriage, why mislead her?"
"She wouldn't get your point. Up here you get married. She'd just wonder what the problem was. What Seeley had done wrong."
"I'll go check things in the kitchen."
"I'll help you."
"Shouldn't you go talk to the guests?"
"As if anyone would notice. Seeley's the favorite Booth brother around here."
oOoOoOo
"I'd better get going. Maybe we'll see you and Seeley in church?"
I don't believe in myths and Booth was up half the night, as he has been most nights the last few weeks, she wants to reply.
"Maybe."
Booth protests when she opens the curtains.
"It's morning."
"Sunday, day of rest," he yawns and reaches for her arm.
She lands in a tangled heap of arms and legs.
"Oof, careful. I think you broke my ribs."
"That would require more force. But If I had, it would have been your own fault," Brennan adds as she burrows her nose into Booth's neck and slips her hands under his t-shirt.
"You've been out without a coat again, haven't you?"
"I only meant to get some fresh air, but one of the neighbors stopped by."
"Who?"
"Don't remember his name. But you've got yet another meat casserole to finish." Brennan slides one of her legs between Booth's both. "We should continue going through everything."
"If you do things like that we're not going anywhere."
"I'm cold. We haven't even been up in the attic."
"No rush, we have several days. "
"Then why did you stay up all night?"
Before Brennan can register what is happening Booth has disentangled himself and grabbed a towel, hers.
"Fine, mind if I take a shower first? Did you leave any hot water?"
He disappears down the hall before she has a chance to reply. With a sigh she gets up. She looks down on the floor when she steps on something soft. Booth's t-shirt, figures.
oOoOoOo
Her jacket settles on her shoulders like a soft embrace.
"I'm sorry."
"I told you, you don't have to hide from me."
"I know."
"So why do you keep doing it?"
"It's got nothing to do with you." Booth holds out his hand. Waiting. Eventually she curls her fingers around his, lets herself be pulled up from her seat and follows him down the steps, along the icy path.
"This is were I'd end up, sooner or later, after I'd been overseas."
Brennan remains quiet. By now she's learned she really doesn't have to say much.
"No one ever tells you the most difficult part is coming home. You try and prepare for what's going to happen over there. It's still a shock, but you knew it would be."
"It's another part of the world," Brennan agrees.
"It's more than that, it's another reality. And then you have to fit into the old one again. You try your best, but you don't, you've changed. Your brain tells you nobody will throw a bomb into your car on Independence Avenue in D.C., yet your gut is screaming at you not to stop at red lights."
Booth waits for her to step through the gate and closes it behind them. The field is covered in a feathery layer of snow. Nobody has walked across it since it fell.
"You tell your kid he's too heavy to sit on your shoulders to watch the fireworks on fourth of July, but the truth is you're afraid you'll start shaking and drop him when it starts."
"But people ask you about it?"
"Yeah, but most want to know how many you've killed. Or expect you to have solutions to the problems there."
They walk along a narrow path, avoiding the patches of smooth ice.
"Gran never asked anything. Eventually I'd tell her anyway. Told her how the noise of a thunderstorm made me want to take cover under a table the first weeks back. Why I didn't like fireworks anymore."
Booth stops when they come to another gate, leans against the graying fence.
"I'm trying to work out how to do it without her. How to live without her."
"When you were dead, I..."
"Temperance, please."
"When I thought you were dead, I wished, although I knew it was irrational and impossible, that I could see you one more time. I needed you to know that I was doing okay without you."
"And did you?"
"I got dressed in the mornings. I went to the lab."
Brennan kicks at a crossbar. "You concentrate on getting through from one minute to the next. Wait for it to stop hurting."
"How long does that take?"
"Don't know. Longer than two weeks. If you're lucky you have a friend like Angela. Someone who tells you you look like crap and forces you to go out to dinner and keeps you company when you push the food around your plate. Who notices when it suddenly hits you on a busy platform in the metro and makes you put your head between your knees when you can't breathe."
oOoOoOo
Brennan rearranges the dishes to fit the latest one in the fridge too. They mentioned in passing at the funeral when they would be back to go through Margaret's things. A row of casseroles and cakes welcomed them on the porch when they returned. She puts three of the five colanders in the box for Goodwill and reaches for a tin on the top shelf in the pantry.
"No, that definitely goes with the to-keep things." Booth grabs the old battered tin from her.
"Booth, it's dented, the lid won't fit properly."
"I'm keeping it."
Margaret walks over to the pantry returning with a battered tin in her hands. "I've got some peanut brittle left."
Booth smiles as he sits down opposite his grandmother, tracing a dent in the blue and white painted metal with his right index finger.
"Jared dared me to climb up and get it once while you were out. I dropped it and the lid came off. There was peanut brittle all over the floor. But we managed to pick it up before you came back. We were so relieved you didn't find out."
"I did. The floor was sticky and I kept stepping on peanuts for days."
oOoOoOo