Disclaimer ~ Bones is owned by Josephson Entertainment and Far Field Productions, in association with 20th Century Fox Television, based on the novels by Kathy Reichs. I own none of it, but if someone wants to give me Agent Booth for Christmas, I think I could be persuaded.
Comments and feedback to Ralkana47@yahoo.com would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
Author's Note ~ Just in case you donít know (it took me a while to figure it out), a drabble is a story of exactly 100 words, not counting the title. Theyíre fun, but they can be challenging!
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Reflections from a Hospital Bed
During Two Bodies in the Lab.
Wincing, he scraped up another spoonful.
He would've given anything to keep those x-rays from her. So many things to hide.
The pudding was sawdust in his mouth. The soles of his feet throbbed. Guilt. Shame. Huddled on the cell floor, broken, helpless, hearing the screams of men he'd sworn to protect.
Aaron. He'd tried so hard for so long to forget. Botched mission, that's all. Not his fault. Nothing he could have done.
Now she was out there. Some bastard was after her, and he was in bed, eating pudding.
He tossed it away, grabbing the remote.
Last Minute Shopping
After The Man with the Bone.
"These toys are cheap," she called, oblivious to the shopkeeper's irritation. "They have books! They might even have good ones."
"Bones! Parker has books. He wants toys! Little boys love pirates!"
She rolled her eyes at Booth's enthusiasm. "Just little boys?"
"Come on," he cajoled, waggling a colorful plush parrot complete with eyepatch, pirate hat, and wooden leg. "How can you not think it's cute? Aaaargh, mateys!"
Brennan looked at it. Cheap -- and physiologically inaccurate. But she decided anything that made Booth smile like that -- wide and boyish, eyes sparkling -- couldn't be all bad. Smiling, she just shook her head.
After The Man with the Bone.
Seeley hugged his son tightly, grinning at Parker's wiggling intensity. The boy gazed at him with wide, trusting eyes.
"Did you catch the bad guy?"
"Yeah, kiddo. We caught him. And look!" He reached for the souvenirs he'd hastily purchased.
"A pirate hat! And a treasure map! Like in the movie with Captain Jack!"
Seeley laughed. "Yep."
"She won't approve."
A weary glance at Sid. "She never does," he sighed. Pirates were probably violent. No violence. Nothing police, nothing military. No Nerf rockets, toy guns. Nothing to connect the son to the father's past. "Come on, kiddo, let's play."
After The Soldier on the Grave.
They were walking on eggshells around him. Had been all week. It was annoying the crap out of him.
"Hey... Booth." Hodgins came closer as Booth stalked out of the lab. If the squint apologized again, Booth would... do... something. "We were... um, thinking about pizza. My place. Comin'?"
A wary glance at him, and Hodgins fidgeted, smiled hesitantly. "Maybe some poker."
Booth froze. "Um... I could maybe..." Maybe play just one hand. One hand. One drink. One snort. It was all the same -- disintegration. He turned away, ignored the hurt look, offered no explanation. Kept walking. "Thanks. But no."
Taking a Good Look
Double drabble! Between S1 and S2.
"'Back in six weeks'? Sid's never closed!" Booth growled, rattling the locked door. "Now what the hell are we supposed to do?"
"We could try that diner up the street," Brennan reluctantly offered. She'd been looking forward to egg drop soup from Wong Foo's during the whole flight back from North Carolina.
He grinned. "I could go for a cheeseburger, actually."
Brennan turned to lead the way. "You know, Booth, you claim to eat healthy, but all I ever see you eat is cheeseburgers and Chinese take-out."
"Bones," his voice admonished her, and she looked back.
He'd pulled his sunglasses down to stare at her over the top of them. "Do I look like all I eat is cheeseburgers and Chinese take-out to you?"
The sunlight slanted through the late afternoon, illuminating her partner's cheekbones and strong jawline. The expertly tailored suit he wore only enhanced his broad shoulders and trim, muscular physique.
Brennan blinked, opening and closing her mouth several times. "Well, no," she said weakly. "You look very... fit. But that -- that could be attributed to -- to a regular exercise routine, not diet, and -- stop smirking!"
She turned and stalked toward the diner, ignoring his laughter behind her.
They slid into their booth, exhausted. Booth flashed her a tired smile as the waitress brought coffee and eyed them curiously.
"Musta been some party."
They chuckled tiredly.
"Did you catch him?" Their late-night post-case victory celebrations were well-known.
Brennan watched the twinkle fade from Booth's deep brown eyes, leaving them weary.
"Yeah," he said, his voice clipped, hard. "We caught him."
"Booth," she murmured, but he stopped her with a sharp gesture of his hand.
"I'm fine, Bones."
But he was quiet as he picked at his pie, and she knew his sleep would not come easy that night.
"Artifacts -- the Gormogon vault -- yes, sir, still being authenticated."
Brennan looked up, stunned. His gaze caught hers, returned to his notecards. She fidgeted until his call ended.
"You said it right!" she accused.
"Gormogon! You said it right!"
They stared at each other. Finally, he shrugged, flashing that smile.
"Gorgonzola's more interesting. What would the Gorgonzola Killer do?"
She laughed. His smile turned sly. "Besides, Bones, you wouldn't be happy unless you could correct me!"
She glared, punching his arm. His laughter brought her a flash of insight.
Seeley Booth was much smarter than he wanted anyone to believe.
Booth liked to buy her toys.
Not flowers or jewelry, just little toys. Made sense. Toys were scattered around his office, model cars and tiny trophies among his medals and commendations.
Maybe he figured their business was serious and playtime was necessary.
Too much psychology. Shaking her head, she glanced at the shelf that held priceless artifacts -- and Jasper.
Temperance looked down at Brainy Smurf and smiled, but the shelf recaptured her attention. There was something... odd.
She peered closer. Had to laugh.
A small empty space, and a little post-it in his bold, messy script.
She invited me to dinner with them, to celebrate. Desperate to see my son, I declined.
As he laughs and chatters, I try to smile, and I think of morals. Principles. Character. Things I should be teaching my little boy.
Iím a good cop. An ethical agent. The opposite of thugs like Kirby.
I compromised a crime scene for her motherís earring.
I ignored arrest procedures for her brother.
I inspired her to use my testimony, and only my testimony, to let her father -- a brutal killer -- walk free. I handed him the key to freedom.
Whatís happening to me?
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