Well, the muse continues to cooperate, thankfully. Pulled this one out of my files, dusted it off, added the missing scene, and hey-presto, a new chapter! My darling husband helped my with this one, including finding me a video of Hero in the Hold so I could check on something.
Set just before Harbingers, with references to End in the Beginning, Hero in the Hold, and Aliens in a Spaceship.
He slides under the covers, gently curling about his sleeping and utterly beloved wife. His hand brushes over the satin of her belly, just starting to round, and he can't suppress a grin. She sighs and nestles closer, still asleep, and his grip tightens slightly. He finally falls asleep himself, with the subtle and exotic scent of her in his nose…
Booth groaned as he woke. Another dream… Not that it had been unpleasant, this echo of his coma. And it certainly could have been worse, he decided, rolling onto his back and looking at the ceiling. Last night had been a nightmare about Bones (Bones, not Bren, but Bones) getting shot by that Mara Muerte bastard, and the night before…well, it still made him blush, it was that wild.
He'd never had that many memorable dreams before, and all but two of the ones he had had since Bones took off (it may have been at the government's rather insistent request, but she seemed all too willing to go, in his opinion), had been of her. None of his old military nightmares, none featuring Parker. Just Temperance Brennan—sometimes as Bones, sometimes as Bren.
He'd swear she left because of him. She hid it well, but he knew his confusion had taken a toll on her. Even heard her confirm it to Angela when both women thought he was napping
"Ange, I don't know what to do! He thought we were married at first, and I thought I had managed to convince him otherwise. But then he comes out with something that's Bren, not Bones."
"At least he doesn't think you two still run a club anymore."
"Small consolation," she muttered. "He hovers, watches every bite I eat, opens his mouth to criticize the wine I have at dinner…"
"Well, the eating part is nothing new," Angela said, plainly trying to lighten the atmosphere.
"I had a hell of a time all over again when we got back here, explaining why none of my things were in his bathroom or even why I wasn't sleeping with him. He knows who we are in his head, I suppose you might say, but he has to think about it." She sighed and the sound punched him in the gut.
But she's coming home, he knows it, trusts her, thinks he might have all his crap together now. The picture of them running a club is still a little too clear for his own comfort, but he's well aware that it's all fantasy. That in real life, he works for the FBI, is already a father, never married, and Bones is his partner and best friend.
He stands on the ridge, the sun harsh on his head and shoulders, the taste of dust heavy in his mouth. Below him is an unbroken field, and he scans it, desperate for any sign… There! a small puff of smoke or dust, and he's running as though the world depended on it.
He digs through the loose dirt, but this time there is no hand reaching upwards for him to pull into the light, and he's forced to step back and let the machines finish the job. They uncover the car and he can hear Angela's moan at the sight. The windshield is gone; Bones and Hodgins lay unmoving in the backseat, half covered by the rubble that had poured in when the glass shattered…
"No!" he shouted into the quiet room, waking himself. "Oh, God," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take; each dream was sharp and vivid-too vivid, he thought resentfully. And one every damn night was overkill, in his opinion.
Water surges in, slamming him off his feet and sending him tumbling. By the time he rights himself, the water's up to his chest and rising faster. Teddy's gone and he feels an unexpected pang at that. But he thinks he sees an escape route in the hatch above him and he swims through the freezing water toward the ladder leading up to the catwalk.
By the time he gets there, the water level is more than high enough for him to reach it. But the cold numbs him, making it hard to haul himself up on the catwalk, but he does, grateful not only for the stability under his feet, but also for the chance to get out of the water for a little while.
The hatch is locked or rusted shut and though he tries until it feels like he'll explode, it refuses to open. And meanwhile, the water is creeping up his legs, past his belt…
He was almost happy about this one. It was expected, Gravedigger following Gravedigger, and it didn't feature Bones, which was something of a relief. It was also slightly less traumatic than some of his old Ranger nightmares. Even if it made him less than enthusiastic to shower…
He can't see, but there's no panic. Ah, a blindfold, he realizes just before a pair of soft lips graze his ear, brush along his jaw, place gentle kisses over his throat, before rising to attack his mouth. His hands close over a slender waist, holding her in place…
He rode that one out to its natural conclusion, waking at the climax, her name on his lips. "Bones!" Oh, God, when is she coming home?