I just watched The Double Death of the Dearly Departed and this fun little add on came to me. Hope you like it. Gregg.
Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Bones was in her office the afternoon after the final interment of the dearly departed, though she could never understand the meaning of that phrase, and was wondering if perhaps she had done the right thing in insisting that Booth do all that they did in order to solve a murder. Granted, murder was wrong, plain and simple, but the final circumstances led one to feel pity and empathy, not anger and a desire for retribution, despite how good the dead man may have been by all accounts. A mother doing such a thing for her own son, even if it meant killing the other son. Poetic, real, yet laden with cruel horror in the actual occurrence.
Then there was Booth just that afternoon. He'd asked her to come and speak to him at his grave when he eventually died. A cold shiver went down her spine as she considered the idea of Booth being dead. It was like a shower of ice cold water flowing over her at that thought. Booth was too important to not be in her life, and she was finally realizing just how important that he was. He'd been her best friend for several years now, and no matter what she did, from casual lovers to completely exasperating everyone with her lack of social aptitude, he was always there for her. It was time to acknowledge what she'd known for a long time now: she was in love with Booth.
Before she could ponder this whole idea further, a short musical chord chimed letting her know she had an e-mail. She clicked on the appropriate icon and brought up a message from Booth.
I know I said it already at the wake, but you really suck at that kind of thing. So, in order that my own wake goes smoothly, and without any accusations, handcuffs, or any other insane activities, I've prepared a list of things that I absolutely forbid you to do at my wake, which will hopefully be many, many years from now after we are both long retired.
No Squint talk whatsoever. Small talk will be confined to ordinary, everyday topics. Appropriate subjects we will go over at another time.
When it comes time to view the body of the departed, namely me, you will not spend more than ten seconds getting a final look at the awesome physical specimen that is yours truly.
During said viewing of such a fine man, you will not touch, paw, examine, or in any way try find out if the cause of death was anything other than what the medical examiner said it was.
No making out or having sex with the undertaker. I know that that wasn't you, but let's face it Bones, anything is possible when in grief. So please, no doing the horizontal Mamba on the day I die with the guy who embalmed me.
Now Bones, don't think that I have only a list of things that you are forbidden to do. I also have a couple of items that I think you should do. Here they are.
First, I expect you to make sure that Parker is doing alright if this happens when he is still young. You're the only one I trust with that important task.
Second, I think a few tears would be very appropriate since I won't be there anymore to make sure that you stay out of trouble. I put this in here because you kind of blew it at my last funeral, Bones, despite how much I know I hurt you with what really happened. You have permission to kick my ass for reminding you of that incident, by the way.
Third, please thank the priest for the services and for officiating at my graveside memorial.
Fourth, as you thank that priest, it would be of great help if you avoid any kind of talk about religion being ridiculous and those that believe in it being completely nuts.
So there it is, Bones. A list of dos and don'ts at my funeral. I hope that these lists help make that horribly unfair time more manageable. And remember, Bones, I will be looking down from Heaven making sure that you follow these to the letter. Your friend, Booth.
Bren didn't know whether to scream in anger, laugh in amusement, or cry in embarrassment. Instead she decided to see the humor in it, and take him up on his offer. She pulled out her cell phone after printing out a copy of his email and filing it in her "Booth" file, and sent him a text message.
Booth- The FBI sparring gym, 8 pm tonight. I am going to kick your ass for this one. Bones.
A/N: There it is. Short and one sided, but it was something that just came to me when I finished watching the episode. If anyone's interested, I may write a second chapter detailing Booth's reaction to the text massage and the sparring match that evening. Let me know. Gregg.