Bones Fic: Spreading the News
Title: Spreading the News
Author: ladychi
Rating: All ages
Spoilers: Up through the end of Season Six
Summary: A ficlet of little vignettes. Brennan tells all the important people in her life the good news.
Spreading the News
When Brennan tells Angela, she cries, tears slowly creeping down her face. "Oh, Bren," she says, her voice warm and her eyes welcoming, "I'm so happy for you."
"I am... still uncertain," Brennan whispers. Angela wraps her in a hug, the sister she's never had, and rocks her back and forth.
"It's going to be such a fun adventure," Angela says, pulling away from her. "We get to raise our kids together, Bren. I couldn't have asked for anything better."
**
The door of the SUV slams behind her, and she tries valiantly to get her trenchcoat around her ever-expanding waist, but it just won't fasten and, like everything else that morning, it frustrates her nearly to tears -- which frustrates her even more. Brennan is not used to being out of control of her own body, her own emotions.
Booth drives off to park the car, and Brennan approaches the familiar building in which Hank lives. She opens the door, greets the woman at the reception desk with a nod, and moves to the Assisted Living court that Hank calls home.
He sees her and he rises to his feet -- an old, courtly gentleman, and it makes her smile.
"Hello," he says cheerfully, kissing her on the cheek. "You look beautiful today."
Brennan tries to wipe the tears inconspicuously from her eyes. "I -- thank you."
"What's this?" He brushes the tear away with a hand that feels like dry, cool paper. "Nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman in the morning, and if Seeley doesn't tell you that more often, I'll box his ears."
She doesn't question how he knows, only takes comfort in his presence and unconditional support.
**
She lays a hand over her stomach while the phone rings. "Brennan," her brother's voice greets her with her own name and she smiles.
"I bought a rocking chair today."
"Hello, Tempe."
"Hello."
"Why did you buy a rocking chair?"
"I hear they're a traditional purchase when one is expecting a child."
There's silence for a minute, then her brother laughs, like it's the best joke he's heard in a while. It hurts her feelings for a minute til Russ says, "Tempe, that is the best news."
She smiles.
**
Seeley tells Max.
Sometime in the last month, she's started thinking of him as Seeley, and he's started to move into her apartment, and they've set up this room together for the baby, selecting paint colors, a decor that will shoot his need for whimsy and her desire for a childhood rich with exposure to a variety of cultures and experiences and...
And he's started to talk to her father.
She doesn't hear the conversation, doesn't understand why they stand apart from her, legs parted, words first harsh and then soothing, but, when Max comes to her, he wraps her in his arms and whispers in her ear that he loves her so very, very much.
**
This time, it's not Angela who convinces her this is the right thing to do. She goes to the corner store, and selects bright yellow flowers wrapped in tissue paper. They will soon wither, and die, but they are a nod to a part of her that has passed, and she makes the walk up the hill to the cemetery alone.
She sits in the grass, cross-legged, and runs her hands over the earth which houses her mother.
She says nothing. There's nothing to say. For generations, one right after the other, women gave birth. Sometimes with their mothers there, sometimes not.
Temperance will pass this marker in life with her mother gone. It is unavoidable.
But that does not mean she would not wish it different.
Author: ladychi
Rating: All ages
Spoilers: Up through the end of Season Six
Summary: A ficlet of little vignettes. Brennan tells all the important people in her life the good news.
Spreading the News
When Brennan tells Angela, she cries, tears slowly creeping down her face. "Oh, Bren," she says, her voice warm and her eyes welcoming, "I'm so happy for you."
"I am... still uncertain," Brennan whispers. Angela wraps her in a hug, the sister she's never had, and rocks her back and forth.
"It's going to be such a fun adventure," Angela says, pulling away from her. "We get to raise our kids together, Bren. I couldn't have asked for anything better."
**
The door of the SUV slams behind her, and she tries valiantly to get her trenchcoat around her ever-expanding waist, but it just won't fasten and, like everything else that morning, it frustrates her nearly to tears -- which frustrates her even more. Brennan is not used to being out of control of her own body, her own emotions.
Booth drives off to park the car, and Brennan approaches the familiar building in which Hank lives. She opens the door, greets the woman at the reception desk with a nod, and moves to the Assisted Living court that Hank calls home.
He sees her and he rises to his feet -- an old, courtly gentleman, and it makes her smile.
"Hello," he says cheerfully, kissing her on the cheek. "You look beautiful today."
Brennan tries to wipe the tears inconspicuously from her eyes. "I -- thank you."
"What's this?" He brushes the tear away with a hand that feels like dry, cool paper. "Nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman in the morning, and if Seeley doesn't tell you that more often, I'll box his ears."
She doesn't question how he knows, only takes comfort in his presence and unconditional support.
**
She lays a hand over her stomach while the phone rings. "Brennan," her brother's voice greets her with her own name and she smiles.
"I bought a rocking chair today."
"Hello, Tempe."
"Hello."
"Why did you buy a rocking chair?"
"I hear they're a traditional purchase when one is expecting a child."
There's silence for a minute, then her brother laughs, like it's the best joke he's heard in a while. It hurts her feelings for a minute til Russ says, "Tempe, that is the best news."
She smiles.
**
Seeley tells Max.
Sometime in the last month, she's started thinking of him as Seeley, and he's started to move into her apartment, and they've set up this room together for the baby, selecting paint colors, a decor that will shoot his need for whimsy and her desire for a childhood rich with exposure to a variety of cultures and experiences and...
And he's started to talk to her father.
She doesn't hear the conversation, doesn't understand why they stand apart from her, legs parted, words first harsh and then soothing, but, when Max comes to her, he wraps her in his arms and whispers in her ear that he loves her so very, very much.
**
This time, it's not Angela who convinces her this is the right thing to do. She goes to the corner store, and selects bright yellow flowers wrapped in tissue paper. They will soon wither, and die, but they are a nod to a part of her that has passed, and she makes the walk up the hill to the cemetery alone.
She sits in the grass, cross-legged, and runs her hands over the earth which houses her mother.
She says nothing. There's nothing to say. For generations, one right after the other, women gave birth. Sometimes with their mothers there, sometimes not.
Temperance will pass this marker in life with her mother gone. It is unavoidable.
But that does not mean she would not wish it different.