Talismans
By Ralkana

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. Also, the quote used for the synopsis/teaser is taken directly from Brennan's dialogue in The Man in the Morgue.

Comments and feedback to Ralkana47@yahoo.com would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!

Timeline -- Set after The Titan on the Tracks, though there are really no spoilers for that episode.

š š š š š š

"Neighbors hadn't seen him in three days," Seeley Booth told his partner. When there was no response, he looked over at Temperance Brennan. She was staring at him intently, but he had the feeling she hadn't heard a word he'd said about one of the cases he'd worked while she'd been on vacation.

"We walked in, and there he was, on the floor. Blood all over the walls and the ceiling."

When there was still no answer, he added, "Half his face was missing and there were purple feathers everywhere. We determined he'd been murdered by the purple people eater."

Her face slowly creased into a puzzled frown, and he laughed. "Okay, Bones. What? You've been staring at me since we got in the car, and I know you haven't been listening to me, so what?"

She bit her lip, her expression suddenly unsure. "I... I have a question to ask you, and I don't want it to offend you."

Booth raised an eyebrow and took a deep breath. "Well... that means it's probably going to offend me. But hey, at least you waited this time before springing it on me. Shoot. Go ahead, ask it," he clarified, seeing her brow furrow even more.

Brennan shook her head. "Never mind. It's obviously a sensitive subject, and I've already shown I have no idea how to handle it delicately. It's not important."

"Now, I'm intrigued," he said playfully, but when he glanced at her, her expression hadn't lightened, and he quickly turned his attention back to the slowing traffic. As soon as he stopped for the traffic light, he shifted in his seat to look fully at her.

"Bones, go ahead and ask me. I'll try not to get offended, I promise, and I really do appreciate that you're trying so hard to be sensitive of my feelings."

She tilted her head, studying him, and he felt uncomfortably like one of her skeletons. After a moment, she appeared to come to a decision, and he braced himself. Nodding her head at him, she asked, "How come you wear that? Doesn't it make things harder for you?"

Confused, Booth glanced down. His gaze caught his tie, black with a cheery pair of red dice emblazoned on the front, and he chuckled. "Oh. That's what you wanted to ask me?"

When he looked back up, she was glaring at him.

"Don't laugh! I've never -- I've never known anyone with an addiction before, and I don't know how to act or what to say -- not that I do in any other situation either -- and I'm afraid to say anything or do anything because I don't want to make you mad and... you know, it was easier before you told me about it."

Stung, he blinked and looked away from her, his hurt and anger building. "Well, God, Bones, I'm sorry I shared something of myself. I won't make that mistake again, I promise."

Brennan sighed, a sound of exasperation. "It's not that! That is not what I meant. See? I don't know what to do, Booth! You tell me to try to get closer to people, and let people get closer to me, and then when I try, you get upset, or you yell at me, or you laugh at me, and it's not fair! Bones are so easy, they can't keep secrets, and they don't get offended! People are hard."

She sat back in her seat with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest, and he felt bad, seeing how serious she was about trying to connect with him and the world. Reaching across, he put his hand on her arm, but she refused to look over at him, staring defiantly out the window.

"Hey," he said softly, and then, when she still didn't look, he added, "Bones. Temperance."

Reluctantly, she returned her gaze to his. Ignoring the angry honk from the vehicle behind him, he smiled reassuringly at her.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get lunch, and we'll talk."

š š š š š š

Soon, they were ensconced in a booth in a nearby Italian restaurant they both enjoyed, and though Bones was avidly exploring the menu, Booth sat back, his menu closed before him. He didn't have much of an appetite now -- what he really wanted was a beer, he thought as he stirred his iced tea, not really looking forward to the coming conversation. But it was noon, on a Monday, and alcohol was out of the question, even for the purpose of bolstering his courage.

They ordered, and she looked him over carefully, pursing her lips as she took in the pained expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have asked anything -- you don't have to tell me if you don't want to talk about it."

"No... it's okay. I don't want to talk about it, really, but you did ask, and it's a legitimate question that deserves an answer. It doesn't help us any if I avoid things every time you do try to connect."

"I... I know you said that I should offer something of myself, but I don't know what, Booth. I mean... sure, I've got problems, and little vices -- everyone does, but if I share something like that -- it seems condescending, like I'm not taking you and your... problem? Illness? Addiction? Whatever you want to call it -- like I'm not taking it seriously."

"It's okay, Bones, I know you're taking it seriously, and I know that you have your own troubles; they just lie in different areas, that's all. And since when do you care about being condescending? What happened to, 'There's thousands of you in D.C. and only one of me'?"

Her face flushed, and she shifted in her seat, obviously uncomfortable. "I... that doesn't... it's different..." She trailed off, and he registered the unspoken part of her sentence. With you. It's different with you.

Suddenly uncomfortable himself, he looked down, and his gaze fell on the blaze of color that had caught her attention earlier. Fingering the end of his tie, he ran his thumb over the pair of dice.

"I bought this tie," he said slowly, "About five years ago, in Vegas, when I was pretty deep in. At the time, I thought it was a symbol of my power, of my ability to control whatever game, whatever table I sat down at. I was in charge, not Fate or God or whoever, I was on top of the world, winning was everything, and losing didn't matter at all."

He chuckled darkly. "What I didn't realize was that it was like... a scarlet letter. It told everyone about my problem, how far I was into things, how much help I really needed."

Booth glanced up, hiding his smile at the intent expression on her face. It was the same look of fierce determination she wore when she was trying to unlock the secrets of some age-worn skull.

"I didn't wear it for a long time after I quit," he said. "I shoved it in the back of my closet, forgot about it. Then, a couple of years ago, I found it again, and I realized..."

He paused, considering his words, thinking about how to best convey the jumbled emotions tangled up inside him.

"I love my job," he said finally. "I'm good at it. Great at it," he modified, laughing when she rolled her eyes. "And besides... if... without it, there's no way to... make up for... everything else I've done."

"Booth -- "

"No, just..." He held up a hand, stopping her. "I just... wearing this tie, it reminds me how much I have, how much I still need to do, everything I stand to lose if I let myself fall again."

"So, it's... a personal talisman, then."

"Hmm. Yeah, I guess you could call it that. A talisman. Like -- like your mom's earring."

Her face darkened at the mention of her mother and the reminder of her ordeal in New Orleans, and he hastily moved on.

"Do you remember... do you ever remember seeing, earlier this year, Hodgins wearing a rubber band around his wrist?"

She nodded after a moment. "Yes. Angela said it had something to do with anger management, to keep his anger under control, but I don't understand how."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "You never saw him snap it?"

"Only once or twice, and nobody explained it to me. We were too busy for me to ask."

He laughed. "Only once or twice? Really? I'm surprised, you're the most infuriating person I've ever met."

Brennan scowled at him, and he laughed again and continued on before she could say anything. "Anyway, he snapped it around his wrist whenever things started to get to him, a way to keep himself in check. This tie... it's kinda like my rubber band sometimes. Only... less painful."

She slowly nodded. "Okay. I think I understand now."

"Good."

"And..."

"And?"

Brennan shook her head. "No, never mind, you've told me enough."

"More?" he asked with a weak chuckle.

"No, it's okay."

"No, you may as well -- the food's taking forever, and I'm already emotionally naked, might as well hit me with your best shot. Who knows when I'll be this weak again."

"You're not weak, Booth. If anything, you're a stronger man than I ever would have imagined when I first met you."

Booth laughed. "Thanks, Bones. Y'know, you're the master of the backhanded compliment."

She flushed. "I'm sorry -- I didn't mean -- "

He waved her off. "It's okay. What else did you want to ask me?"

"Your chip -- the one you're always playing with -- is that a talisman too?"

Booth closed his eyes and slumped against the back of the booth, trying to ignore the sharp pain that lanced through him at her question. The tie was a walk in the park compared to the story of the gaming chip he carried everywhere. His hand stole to his side, tracing the contours of the chip through the pocket of his slacks.

Opening his eyes, he saw her staring worriedly at him.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "That looks like it's too personal. Never mind."

"No," he said, "No, it's okay. It's just... this one's harder."

"We don't have to -- "

"No, now is better. I don't want you to get so curious that you randomly spring it at me later when I'm chasing down an armed perp."

She quickly looked down into her water glass, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes, and he sighed.

"I have horrible timing, don't I?" she said before he could apologize.

"Yeah, you kinda do, but it's okay, we'll work on it," he said with a laugh, which faded as her question came back to him. He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out.

"The day Parker was born, Rebecca's sister called me from the hospital to tell me Rebecca had been in labor for five hours. When I told her I'd be there in twenty minutes, she told me not to bother."

He laughed humorlessly. "'Don't bother,' that's what she said. 'She won't let you in, and it's better if you're not here.'"

"Booth..."

He looked up at her, the twin feelings of impotence and rage rising swiftly within him again, and he did his best to tamp them down. "I don't think I've ever felt so powerless in my life, Bones. My son was being born, and his mother didn't want me there -- she didn't even know her sister had called me, Elizabeth just said she'd thought I'd like to know."

She was watching him, a stricken expression on her face, and he paused, breathing deeply, clenching his hands into fists so tightly that his fingernails bit into his flesh.

"I got into my car, and I drove," he said. "No idea where I was going, I just went. I ended up in Atlantic City."

His mouth was dry, and he drank the last of the iced tea, signaling to the server for another one. She brought it, her face apologetic, but anything she was about to say died on her lips as she felt the tension at the table. Wordlessly, she replaced his tea and moved away. He drank half the glass before he put it down.

"I wandered around the Taj Mahal for a while -- two hundred bucks in my pocket, and nothing was calling to me."

He snorted derisively. "First time in as long as I could remember that nothing was calling to me, Bones, and I was so messed up in the head I didn't even realize that. Finally, I stumbled upon a roulette table, and there it was, that call. It was the damnedest thing -- I never played roulette."

"Why not?"

"Not enough risk. Not enough return. Roulette's a sucker's game."

"So, why did you end up there?"

"Because it was calling me. I bought in, took my markers, and placed half on that day's date. I was so certain I was going to win -- I was betting on my son's birthday, you know? How could I lose?"

"You lost," she said. It wasn't a question.

"I lost. Double zero, how's that for dramatic effect?" he laughed. "One spin of the wheel, and I was down a hundred bucks. And that was when I realized I was standing there, surrounded by grandmas and tourists and drunk frat boys, and I was betting on my child and he wasn't even born yet. And that's when I decided I was done."

"That was when you quit?"

"It sounds so easy when you put it that way. I cashed in my markers, for this very chip here," he said, pulling it out and flipping it between his fingers. "And Bones, it took every muscle in my body to walk out of that casino without going back to that table or any other one there."

He handed her the chip, and she took it very carefully, making him smile. She examined it closely and handed it back to him, and he tucked it safely back in his pocket.

"There's been so many times when I've thought, 'Just one game. One hand. I'll use it to buy in, win the hand, get it right back, and put it back in my pocket. It'll still be there, no harm, no foul, right?' But I don't. And I won't, because every time I pull it out, I think about standing there, wishing to God, willing to give everything I'd ever had in my entire life if I could just be there in that delivery room to hear him cry. And I wasn't. And no matter how much I wish, I can never go back there and be there for that. And it always hurts. Always."

His voice broke and he looked away, at the table, at the wall, anywhere but at her, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. He jumped when he felt her hand on his, and he forced himself to look at her, surprised to see the brightness in her eyes. He covered her hand with his and squeezed gently.

"I'm sorry, Booth," she said quietly.

He tried to smile at her and was unsuccessful. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Thank you. I'm sorry I..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say, awkward now, and he sighed in relief as he saw the server approaching with their plates.

"Finally," he said brightly. "Food!"

The server set down their plates and gave the both of them a half-concerned, half-curious glance. "I'm so sorry about the wait. Everything okay here?"

"We're fine, thank you," he said, flashing her a smile, and Brennan rolled her eyes as the server blushed and nodded, stepping away from their table.

"Thank you for telling me, Seeley." Brennan said sincerely, and he blinked at the use of his given name.

"Thank you for asking me, Temperance," he replied, picking up his fork. "Just, uh, just try not to throw it in my face, okay?" he said, a playful tone in his voice to soften the blow, but she heard the plea in his words.

"I'll try," she said solemnly, before taking a bite of her lunch.

"Thank you."

"Booth?"

Groaning, he set down his fork again. "Now what?" he asked in exasperation, glaring at her. She held a breadstick in one hand and her fork in the other, a perplexed expression on her face.

"What's a purple people eater?"