Fic: Moments II
Title: Moments II, Chapter 4
Disclaimer: Bones belongs to FOC, Hanson and Reichs
Rating: T
Spoilers: Any aired episodes
Moments II Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Moments
oOoOoOo
There are places he only returns to in his dreams but the sun burns as hot and the sand is as coarse as it was then. The blood is just as sticky when he relives it all in his sleep.
Booth winces when his soles touch the cold floor beside the bed. Always there to remind him, even when his dreams leave him be. Another morning with hot water, careful steps and hesitating by the bottle of painkillers. Strong, sweet coffee usually works as a distraction. It will never distract him the way the thrill of a bet did, but it helps. They are old acquaintances by now, the healed fractures in his feet and he.
He pauses to tuck the sheets around Brennan.
"I'm awake," she murmurs into her pillow.
"Then go back to sleep, it's early."
"You're up."
"It's your lucky day, I'm making pancakes for breakfast."
She is asleep again by the time he has covered her with the blanket she's kicked to the floor and gingerly made his way to the bathroom to fill the old clawfoot tub with hot water.
oOoOoOo
"The metatarsals of you left foot and the proximal and distal phalanxes of your right great toe are causing you discomfort," Brennan says leaning against the kitchen counter.
"It's the snow. I'll be as good as new when we get back to D.C. Now sit, pancakes coming up."
"I'll help."
"No need, they're almost ready."
"But..."
"I need to keep moving, okay. You know it's worse first thing in the morning."
"Okay."
Booth can't decide if he likes it when she gives in so easily, or if he'd prefer she remained her usual stubborn self and didn't let him off the hook when it's about his feet. About what happened to them. To him.
oOoOoOo
The grains of sand dig into his knees. The sweat trickling down his face makes the cuts and scrapes sting. He stretches his neck trying to shift the blindfold, not wanting the scratchy piece of cloth to be the last thing he sees.
Booth is three lines into his prayer when someone yanks the cord around his wrists and he stumbles to his feet.
oOoOoOo
Booth was wrong. Brennan hasn't let him off the hook he realizes when they are loading boxes for Goodwill into the car. She uses what she thinks is a casual tone.
"There are orthopedic shoes. There's research that shows adapted footwear can..."
"Thanks, Bones. I know you mean well, but I don't want to be reminded every time I put on a pair of shoes. Besides, have you seen those things? They're ugly."
"Is it better to be reminded every cold day?"
"Don't. You don't get to use logic here."
"Why not, Booth?"
"'Cause it would mean there was a logical explanation. A reason for what they did."
oOoOoOo
One of the first things they do is take his boots. It makes him feel naked, vulnerable. They let him keep his fatigues and the thing that makes him a piece of a whole, interchangeable to the person he replaced and the person who will replace him, becomes the thing that reminds him of who he is. The anonymous uniform that helped him leave his other life behind helps him hold on. When it is all over he never asks what happened to the dirty, bloody rags it turned into.
The first case he cracks after he's joined the FBI is the murder of a homeless man. “How did you know, Booth?” “No guy would give away his boots. When you're exposed like that you rely on them.” One death is solved and another, the death of a person on his rescue team, is atoned in a way. His cosmic balance sheet begins to take shape.
oOoOoOo
Booth pushes in the last box and sits down at the back of the car. "I can't stand there being a reason for what they did. That somehow it was something we deserved."
"Did what?" Brennan asks when she sinks down next to him, though she really doesn't want to know. Wishes there wasn't more to know.
"They beat the soles of your feet until they swell so much you can hardly walk. Then they force you to walk anyway so the blood will flow from your feet so they can continue with the beating."
The suspension makes the car move as Brennan shifts closer to him. She forgot to pack her own shampoo, again, he thinks when her head comes to rest on his shoulder.
"As bad as the pain was, waiting for it was worse."
"It's a deliberate technique used to keep captives off balance," Brennan agrees. "The did that in El Salvador too. Made me wait."
"Let's get moving. We got about a hundred more of these runs to make," Booth says eventually and unlaces his fingers from Brennan's.
"I would estimate it to four more runs. Or possibly three, if you could be more practical and not hold on to so many old, broken objects."
oOoOoOo
"Temperance, how are you doing?"
"I'm fine, Jared." Brennan opens the door wider and steps aside. "Booth didn't say you were coming today."
"He doesn't know. Spur of the moment thing."
"You didn't take your motorcycle this time."
"Even I know not to drive in this weather. So, where's my brother?"
"He's at Goodwill and the recycling center."
"Bet you had something to do with that. You're a good influence on him."
"Do you only have that bag?"
"I travel light."
"You mean you're not staying long."
"I meant what I said earlier, you're good for Seeley," Jared says when they're seated at the kitchen table.
"He could have used you lately. You two need to decide what to do about this house."
"Oh, that's not up to me. My brother's the only Booth brother that counts up here. Always was."
"Legally it is."
"As if that would change anything. Trust me, by staying away I'm actually helping him."
"I fail to see your logic."
"Seeley needs things to fix."
Jared gets up to refill his plate from the pot on the stove. He doesn't continue until he sets down his plate on the table again.
"Seeley needs other people's problems. That way he doesn't have to deal with his own."
oOoOoOo
"Hi Jared, perfect timing as always. I just made the last run to Goodwill so now you don't have to."
"Hi Seeley. I finished the chili. And the angel food cake. Sorry, I was starving."
"Hi Booth. Are you hungry?"
"Don't worry about it, Jared" Booth says as he drops a kiss on Brennan's head and takes out a plate for himself. "We have a fridgeful of food from the neighbors."
"Of course you do. Anything for my brother."
"They've been asking about you."
"As in “Where's that good for nothing brother of yours?” Looks like you and Temperance have it all under control, no need for me."
"Get over yourself, Jared. Your pity parties are getting old," Booth says as he sits down at the table.
"Why didn't you come sooner, if you knew there was work to do?" Brennan asks. "What's the point of being here now?"
"I think that's my cue to go see if that heap of rusty tractor parts in the yard can be put together again," Jared says and stands up.
Booth stops Brennan with a hand on her arm.
"Leave him be, Bones."
"You're not helping Jared by taking all the responsibility. He won't grow up if you're there to protect him all the time."
"I'm not, trust me."
"No?"
"No."
oOoOoOo
He wakes up to a world smelling of antiseptics. The sand and the heat is gone. One of the faces he thought he would never see again floats by. He squeezes back at the hands that used to clutch him a long time ago. When did they grow large enough to fold around his?
When his world widens from a square of white ceiling and the drugs no longer envelop his mind in a soft cloud he shifts to face his brother.
"Who told you?"
"You list me as your next of kin. Guess you forgot to share that detail with me."
"Yeah, about that."
"Don't worry about it. Just assumed you'd pick Cam or Gran. Someone close to you, I mean. What, Seel?"
"Easier if you're not too close. Needed someone who'd stay level headed."
"And you picked me instead of Cam?"
"Someone who knows me well enough to get my funeral right."
"For once I didn't disappoint you then. Plenty of times to prove my levelheadedness in the last few days. Almost ordered you a wreath a few times."
"I'm sorry."
"You should rest. You look like crap."
oOoOoOo
Brennan shakes her head when he holds out the coffee pot. Booth refills his own cup. It's not as if he's going to sleep much tonight anyway.
The clanging and hammering from Jared doing God-knows-what with the tractor parts can be heard from outside.
"I should go out and talk to him."
"Why do you keep forgiving him? He's not a little boy anymore."
"He knows the worst about me. He knows and he's forgiven me."
"I know about the people you've killed."
"This is something else."
oOoOoOo
The screams return when the drugs they give him are no longer strong enough to pull him into a dark void when he falls asleep. Closing his eyes means opening the door to the stifling, windowless cell. It is all there, the stench, the metallic smell of his own blood. The pain and the fear that are beyond description.
His brother never was one for following the rules. Ignoring things like visiting hours means Jared is there in the middle of the night when the screams in his dreams grow so loud they wake him up. The boy he once protected, shielded with his own body, gently shakes his broken one awake.
One of these nights Booth tells Jared. Tells him his most shameful secret, how he betrayed his faith. His God. How he wished for death to come and take him away from that cell without days and nights.
Years later coworkers will make fun of the way he turns pale at crime scenes with mangled, bloody bodies and tell him he will get used to it. So working with a partner who declares she works with bones, not bodies, suits him just fine. Suits him just fine even before he has seen past her pain-in-the ass-behavior and annoying lectures and discovered the heart she carefully protects.
oOoOoOo
His breath forms puffy clouds in the cold night air.
"I'm glad you're here, Jared. Bones is too. I'm sure she didn't mean it the way it came out. She doesn't sugar coat what she says."
"She meant it," Jared fastens another bolt before he looks up, "and she has a point."
"So when will you stop it?"
"When will you stop believing that you need to fix things all the time for people to love you?"
oOoOoOo