Flight of Fancy - One Shot (Inspired by MoonlightGardenias)

A/N: After watching that trainwreck of a season four finale I felt the need to put thing into some perspective. MoonlightGardenias wonderful story inspired me to write this little ditty. Adult language and situations apply.

Flight of Fancy

It’s been twenty-two hours since I came out of the coma. Twenty-two hours since I woke up a stranger to my own life, the last however many years of my life missing. In my dream I know who I am, Seeley Booth, former Ranger, currently owner of the hottest club in DC, happily married man with a beautiful, intelligent wife, who is expecting my baby. In the waking world I’m not sure. The woman sitting here beside me, this beautiful, alluring woman who so reminds me of my wife, isn’t. Still she sits here, hour after hour, talking to me, answering my questions, telling me who I am. Even when I sleep, I know she’s there, when I awake she’s there, she never leaves me but she’s not my Bren. I’ve fallen asleep four times in the last twenty-two hours and each time I’m back there, at the lab, in our apartment, taking care of business, eating breakfast, making love to my wife. I miss her. I miss my dream life.

‘Who are you?’ The words still rang in my ears, rattled about in my skull, lingered on my lips like some sickly sweet poison, clinging to my tongue and filling my mouth with an acrid taste that there was no cure for. What in the hell had possessed me to say that to her? I saw my Bren but at the same time it wasn’t my Bren. She called me Booth, I mean that’s what she always called me but Bren, my Bren, whenever I’ve been sick or in the hospital it’s Seeley. Whenever she’s worried about me it’s always Seeley. Here she was, not just worried but distraught and she called me Booth, not Seeley. ‘Who are you?’ The look in her eyes, she was devastated, mouth agape at my thoughtlessness, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, already red-rimmed from previous efforts. She’d been by my side this entire time, four days, six hours, thirty-six minutes she sat there waiting for me to wake up. The entire time this woman stood guard over me, never resting, taking sleep in fits and starts, worrying over me, and this is how I repay her? I ask ‘Who are you?’ like some badly written character in a daytime soap? Stupid Seel, stupid stupid stupid.

Right after I woke up I started asking questions, but no one had any answers, no one but her. The doctors, Dr Jursik in particular, insist I should rest, give it a few days and wait to see if my memories come back naturally before trying to ‘force’ things. Well I’m not known for my patience. Okay, I don’t know that I’m not known for my patience or not, but when I tell her that I’m tired of waiting after less than a day, that I want answers now, she smiles, really smiles, for the first time since waking up she’s smiling at me. It’s the kind of smile Bren would give me when I did something predictable that she found cute anyway. So with no one else around, here we are, and she’s going to help me jog my memory. The funny thing is my memory is perfectly fine, I can recall almost everything in perfect detail from the moment I awoke, right down to the scent of jasmine in her hair, and the feel of her fingers on my forearm, nah my memory is fine, it’s the actual memories I don’t have a handle on. Still we begin, from the beginning.

“Okay, so let’s start from the beginning, pretend I don’t remember anything, like that’s a stretch.” The ghost of a smile, nice to know my sense of humor is still intact. “I mean, at least that way we don’t leave anything out.”

“Okay, that’s a good idea. I’m Dr Temperance Brennan and you are Seeley Booth, we’re partners.”

God bless her but she’s a trooper. It’s pretty obvious this is ripping her heart out, that those three little words I spoke yesterday practically killed her, and yet here she is trying to help me out by answering my question instead of…what? Hell I don’t even know what she’d be doing otherwise. Damn. “We’re Partners. Work partners, right?” Why do those words feel like ash on my tongue when I say them aloud?

“Yes. We work together, to solve crimes. You are the Special Agent of the FBI, you are in charge of the MCU and are the liaison to the Jeffersonian. I am a Forensic Anthropologist who works at the Jeffersonian Institute and your partner. They bring us the cases that other agents can’t do, the ones where the victims are too far gone for an easy authentication or there’s not enough evidence for a normal forensics team to process.” She is very thorough this time, and she’s telling me this with obvious pride, we must be pretty good at it if she’s that proud of what we do.

“Special Agent in Charge of the MCU, huh?” Now that’s news to me. The last thing I remember was being a grunt who’d transferred over from narcotics less than a year ago. So I got a promotion, good to know. “Liaison to the Jeffersonian? That’s the museum right?”

“Yes, I work in the Medico-Legal Lab and you are the FBI liaison for the criminal cases we handle.” She’s good. I can see it in her eyes, her body language, she’s upset but she’s calm, controlled, forcing herself to sound reassuring.

“And we’re good at our jobs? I mean if they’re bringing us the dogs and the cold cases we have to either be pretty good or they just hate us.”

“Yes, we’re very good, the best in fact. You’re considered one of the best agents in the FBI, Sam even thinks you’ll have his job someday. You remember now, being in the FBI?”

Of course I remember being in the FBI, it’s just my life in it for the past however many years I don’t remember. So we’re a good team, and I’m a good agent. No, Not just good but one of the best, and she called Deputy Director Cullen ‘Sam’. Am I really that good? I must be, she seems so proud of me when she speaks. Then again I wonder…

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember working for the FBI it’s just, Special Agent in Charge huh? The last thing I remember was getting the transfer from Narcotics to Major Crimes, and now I’m the MCU SAC? I must be pretty hot stuff.”

“Hot? Do you have a fever? Are you feeling unwell right now, do you want me to get a nurse?” What the hell?

“No, uh, no fever. Hot stuff, you know, pretty special, impressive, I got skills, that kind of thing.” She can’t be serious, can she? I mean who doesn’t know what hot stuff means?

“Sorry. I, I misinterpreted what you were saying. You should know I’m not very good with pop-culture references, it’s something you spend a great deal of time correcting me on.” She seems embarrassed, almost hurt, am I really that big of an asshole to her? I mean, it was a colloquialism, so she got it wrong, so what? She’s a freakin’ genius.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re not really aware of pop-culture references, modern colloquialisms, or euphemisms and I constantly correct you when you make a mistake?” The look on her face tells me all I need to know. I can feel my stomach sinking. “Let me guess, I always correct you right away too, like even when we’re in front of other people, strangers, anybody?”

She’s nodding. My worst fears confirmed, apparently I haven’t taken anything positive out of losing Rebecca, I certainly haven’t learned how to treat someone special to me because there’s no one more important to me than my Bren and I’m still acting like a complete asshole to her. Ah Crap, I guess I didn’t school my reaction good enough because she’s got this look on her face. She can tell.

“Booth? It’s okay. I don’t mind, really. You’re just trying to help develop my socialization skills, its one of the few areas where I’m truly deficient and correcting that deficiency is important.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is it important Bren?” Damn. She cringes every time I call her Bren. My Bren loved it. Dr Brennan hates it. I call her something though, just not that. Damn I hate this. “Just…tell me why, okay?”

“I have difficulty connecting to people, outside of a purely academic or work related setting. I, I don’t get people. I get bones. I’m better with the dead than the living, most of the time anyway.” Shit. The look on her face tells me everything I need to know. I am an asshole.

“Let me guess, I’m the one that told you that right?”

“Yes, but you were only trying to be helpful. I really do have difficulty connecting with people, I simply don’t understand them, their motivations are confusing enough let alone what they are saying half the time.”

“And somehow my embarrassing you and making you question your self, how you conduct yourself, that’s helping?”

“You’re not really looking for an answer from me are you?” The arched eyebrow and pointed look make me feel like a lab specimen, it’s an oddly uncomfortable and at the same time familiar feeling. Great. “You’ve already made up your mind that somehow you’ve done something to offend me. Don’t do that Booth. Don’t blame yourself when I don’t, it’s annoying, holding yourself to that impossible standard constantly.”

“Don’t do what? Don’t worry that my partner, the one person who is there for me when I need her most, is the one person I’m consistently an asshole to? And how is me wishing I wasn’t acting like a prick suddenly an impossible standard? Am I that far gone?” Shit, I mean I know I’m a bastard but am I as bad as all that? I guess I am. “Look Brennan, even after everything that happened between me and Becs it’s pretty clear I still haven’t learned how not to be a prick to the women I love, right? So quit acting like I’m not a loser.” She stiffened at the word loser and I knew I'd hit a nerve, I must have been an even bigger shit that I thought. I couldn’t look at her now, knowing how much I must have hurt her the last four years, all the little things I must have done to push her down, to ‘level’ the playing field so I could feel superior to my brilliant Bren, God I was a piece of shit. “I should have known it was all a dream…I never acted like a jackass, not once the entire time.”

“Well you’re acting like one now Booth.” That got my attention. Those words, a metaphorical slap to bring me around. I got my first good look at her, and she was pissed.

“I’m sorry Bren, Brennan, ah shit. I can’t even apologize right.” I can’t, the name thing, again, one of these days I’ll get it figured out but the name thing is killing me, killing us. Still, there’s one thing I haven’t called her, one name I normally reserve for us when we’re alone… “Temperance?” Bingo. Maybe it wasn’t all a dream. “Temperance I’m sorry. I, I just…you are important to me, okay? So very, very important to me and I can’t stand the thought that I’ve said or done anything to hurt you, even if I was trying to help at the time. I just want you to know that. And for the record? You’re doing pretty good with the living in this room, so I don’t buy that whole ‘better with the dead’ argument.”

A smile. It’s a weak one, and the eyes are watery, but she’s not crying and it’s a real smile, the first one I’ve seen since I woke up. As if that wasn’t enough what she says next practically makes my heart sing. “Booths I get, it’s the rest of society that doesn’t make any sense to me, but you and Parker? You guys are easy.”

She knows me, she knows my son, we’re easy to get. That has to mean something right? Unfortunately for me the rest of our walk down memory lane goes downhill from there. It takes me less than an hour to figure out what I’m missing, five years of my life. My son Parker, my baby boy, isn’t a baby anymore, he’s seven, almost eight. Rebecca and I never reconciled, no surprise there. Even in my dreams she’s a footnote, it’s all about Bren in my dreams, Bren and our baby. But there is no Bren and me, no baby either, and Rebecca isn’t a footnote, she’s still around and now she’s in a serious relationship with someone I call ‘Captain Fantastic’. A coastie, who’s real name is Drew and he gets to play daddy to Parker while I get to see my son a couple of times a month. And the hits, they just keep on coming. Seems Cam is working at the Jeffersonian now and I made that mistake again, smooth Seel, you always knew how to screw up a good thing. It’s pretty clear to me when Brennan talks about Cam that I hurt her, hell I can read the pain in her face, the way her brow furrows, the subtle clenching of her jaw, the twitch in her neck. Knowing I caused that pain kills me again, it’s as bad as knowing she’s not really my Bren and that’s the worst. She’s not my Bren, but she’s still Temperance to me. I, I just can’t figure out what we are to one another.

Sometimes she acts like we’re together, sometimes like we’re just business associates, but I know we’ve got to be more than just partners, she knows too much about me. She knows about Jared, my father, my gambling problems, my attempted suicide when I was just fifteen – those aren’t things I tell just anyone, and I never told anyone about the lowest day of my life before, not even Rebecca or Jared. And the things she’s told me I know about her, even as she tells me I can remember them all. I remember her time in the system, her father and mother abandoning her, her brother too. The trial, oh my God the trial. She talks about it and I can almost see it happening, I can feel it again, the desperation, the heartache, ‘I’ve stood over death with this woman…that’s a lot of heart Bones’. I don’t know if I said it aloud, I must have, because everything after that is lips. Her lips on my lips, and tongue, lots of tongue, hers, mine, sometimes both at once. My God can this woman kiss. Bones. I say it again in my head as I feel her lips crushing against my own. When she starts to pull back I whisper it against her mouth and like magic, she’s kissing me again. Her lips moving over my own, her teeth biting none too gently at the tender flesh, pulling the lower lip, her tongue pushing into my mouth, sweet Jesus she tastes so good, feels so soft and silky in my mouth, like heaven.

It’s a little overwhelming the extended kiss with the drugs still in my system, and the dull throbbing ache in my skull, but it’s worse when we hear the sound of someone clearing their throat and a barely restrained squeal from the vicinity of the doorway. The woman I’d come to know as Bones was gone, she’d left my arms so fast I swear I can see a forensic anthropologist shaped dust cloud where she was. Instead of Bones, my Bones. I know why I call her that, I remember now, another piece of the puzzle. I look up at her, face flushed, eyes sparkling with embarrassment and something else, happiness? She’s smiling, a sweet bashful smile and she can’t bring herself to look up at the woman in the doorway…the artist, I know her, I think, just not her name, and the short hairy guy with her, I know him too but I’m not sure from where. Okay, still room for improvement but I’m getting there at least I know…

“You.” All eyes on me, but the only ones that matter are hers. “Bren, Brennan, those weren’t right were they. I know that now, because I know you…you’re Bones, my Bones, my Temperance.” The full on smile she gives me, the welling eyes, the few tears that escape, my God she’s beautiful. I’m still not sure what we are, but I know what we’ll be, at least if I have any say. There’s no way she gets away from me again, no. Because I know her now, and I know I love her, my Temperance, my Bones.



Well that's all there is, it's just a one shot really, just something I felt inspired to crank out instead of oh...sleep. Oh, and I'm not done with "Love is not enough" I'll update that tonight. Peace.

RM

awww, so sweet. Me loves it!

That was really great. I think you got the POV well. Booth's kind of stagnant in this awkward in-between; wanting the life from his dream, but realizing at the same time he wants the woman before him. Perfect. And the idea that something I wrote helped inspire that? Well, our brain seems to be working perfectly these days.

Where is FL are you from? (Sorry OT)

MoonlightGardenias wrote:That was really great. I think you got the POV well. Booth's kind of stagnant in this awkward in-between; wanting the life from his dream, but realizing at the same time he wants the woman before him. Perfect. And the idea that something I wrote helped inspire that? Well, our brain seems to be working perfectly these days.

Well I think credit really has to go to the last time you used our brain, I found a few thoughts banging around about the whole thing being a catalyst for him realizing what he had and what he'd lost, and that made me think "Booth is the kind of guy that if he gets a second chance he takes it." Plus it gave me a chance to work out some issues I had with Booth of Season Four constantly being an ass to Brennan (I mean we should have seen the tumor coming, it explains the personality change from S1-S3).

RM

It's all about consistency, continuity, and progress baby!

I didn't notice a personality change.... Do explain.

The Booth of Seasons One through three was occasionally short and snippy, even sarcastic, but overall he was kind, considerate, and a gentleman when dealing with Brennan. The Booth of Season Four bounced from joking/kidding to snippy/sarcastic to downright mean. I mean, Dr Burn-in-hell? Creepy? Episodes like Finger in the Nest and Fire in the Ice remind us of who Booth can be//should be. Episodes like Scientist, Princess, and Double Death are the worst aspects of Booth. There were times in those epis where he was so mean to her I wanted to slap the taste out of his mouth, and I'd like to think it's a result of his brain tumor. Now that it's out the Booth I respect will come back.

RM

I did notice that change, but here's the kickster...er, kicker. In s4, he was more offensive, rude, and made those jokes, but those end of episode fluff festivals became more blatant at the same time. "There's someone out there for you Bones, you just have to be looking close enough to recognize it." "Love is worth it." etc....

Anyway, I think you addressed the s4 issues really well. I hope we'll get real Booth back soon, too.

THX1138 wrote:I'd like to think it's a result of his brain tumor. Now that it's out the Booth I respect will come back.

RM

We hope. My, I'm down tonight.

Sweet story, Robbie. Nice sense of what is apparently very real confusion. And I like the stories where his memories don't all just drop in, complete, all at once, like in a cartoon (or a bad soap, yes) with just a small prompt or a new bash over the head.

dawnsfire wrote:We hope. My, I'm down tonight.

Hey, been there and I know the area, don't buy the t-shirts they're made in Bangalor and they itch.

Sweet story, Robbie. Nice sense of what is apparently very real confusion. And I like the stories where his memories don't all just drop in, complete, all at once, like in a cartoon (or a bad soap, yes) with just a small prompt or a new bash over the head.

Thanks, I'm a fan of realism in all things - though I push the heroic angle often for the sake of the genre I try to keep other aspects as close to plausible as I can and real confusion isn't cleared up with a bumo on the head or a sudden flash of inspiration. It'll come in fits and starts, and some bits may not come back at all. At least now Booth knows she's Bones, and even though he's still not sure what that means, if he has anything to say about it they'll be together because he's certain he loves her.


RM

Gosh, I really have to work on becoming a deeper thinker. I don't know how I never thought of it before. In the first paragraph as soon as you said "waking world" I knew that when he fell asleep he was right back in that coma dream all over again with his Bren! I don't know how I couldn't have thought of that before, but it really did add so much to his sense of frustration and confusion.

I loved it, but I wanted to highlight these two lines that just cracked me up ...

“I should have known it was all a dream…I never acted like a jackass, not once the entire time.”

^^ That's a realization that can only occur to a contrite person!

... she’d left my arms so fast I swear I can see a forensic anthropologist shaped dust cloud where she was.

^^ That felt like a sweet little nod to Angel.

DBCrazy wrote:

... she’d left my arms so fast I swear I can see a forensic anthropologist shaped dust cloud where she was.

^^ That felt like a sweet little nod to Angel.

Heh, actually I was going for Bugs Bunny (Booth being the cartoon aficionado) but I can see how that works too, maybe better really since it implies a certain surreality to the situation.

Yeah, the "...never acted like a jackass, not once the entire time." is my way of pointing out how Booth is always harder on himself than anyone else - something Brennan calls him on too, but I think it fits with his sense of frustration at not having his dream - she's real so if they aren't together it has to be his fault.

RM