Author’s Note: Believe me, I do feel a moral obligation to push the story along (after all, I’m going abroad in a couple of weeks until the end of April or so and I’d like to have this story finished by then). My fluff bunny – apparently I do have one – commanded that this be written instead. So I did. This being said, it’s a piece of introspection (sort of) that should, at least in principle, clarify a few things. I hope you like it.

Setting: The spring and summer of season 4.

Disclaimer: No, not mine. But... nothing wrong with pretending, right?

8. Safe

If she weren’t Temperance Brennan (and no, she doesn’t wish to be someone else), she would go out into the sunshine, her hair loose on her shoulders, carrying nothing but a paper bag. She would sit by the fountain and eat her lunch, surrounded by office workers and the hum of the busy city.

But she is, so she stays in her house of reason, immersed in work, the background noises of the lab and the artificial light her safe place.

When Booth bursts in with his usual nonchalance (“Payback time, Bones!”) she surrenders reluctantly – more out of a sense of obligation towards her partner, she tells herself, than because she can find the time for idle pursuits. He takes her for a short drive (“Where are we going?” – “That’s for me to know and for you to find out”), takes a bag out of the trunk and leads her into the park. He spreads a blanket on the grass with a wide grin and a flourish, pulling out a variety of containers from her favorite deli and some coffee (“It’s a picnic, Bones, how long since you’ve been on one?”).

She sits in the sunshine, her hair loose on her shoulders. She eats her lunch, laughing at Booth’s stories and telling a few of her own.

If she weren’t Temperance Brennan (and no, she doesn’t wish to be someone else) she would go out with some friends – dinner and maybe a movie afterwards. Or a club filled with hundreds of bodies jumping up and down in time with the music.

But she is, so she stays at home, copies of forensic anthropology journals open in front of her, her laptop on the coffee table.

When Booth’s impatient knock at her door pulls her out of a reverie concerning a recent discovery in the Madagascar, she sighs and lets him in. Characteristically impervious to the fact that she has something better to do with her time than attend the party at the Jeffersonian, he tells her that he needs her to come (“because that’s what partners do, they look out for each other”) and manages to persuade her (“against my better judgment”, she points out). He leaves her to change and returns within the hour, wearing a tuxedo and a smile. She cannot help but smile back, engaging him in a debate about the social and anthropological significance of formal events until they arrive at the party. They make a perfunctory appearance, but even that seems too long (“Two hours, Booth!”- “Yeah, two hours that I’ll never get back, either”).

He takes her out to dinner to a nice restaurant afterwards (“because hey, we look way too good to go to the diner”) and somehow manages to extract a promise that she will watch a movie with him sometime soon.

She is Temperance Brennan. He knows who she is.

Thanks for all your lovely reviews so far! I hope I haven’t lost you with this. Yes, I know this is short but it begged to be written. More to follow within the next couple of days.

So... what do you think?