Fic: Lost and Found (1/1)

[only_more_love]

Title: Lost and Found (1/1)
Characters: Brennan, Booth
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Confessing this sin is not an option."
Notes:  What follows is different than anything else I have posted here. This is just me playing with tense and style.  For the purposes of this, a certain event in Santa in the Slush never happened.  I'm not sure how to classify this; perhaps it's a character study.
Disclaimer: Bones and its characters belong to FOX, not me. This story is purely meant to entertain. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Warning:  What follows is different than anything else I have posted here. This is just me playing with tense and style.  For the purposes of this, a certain event in Santa in the Slush never happened.  I'm not sure how to classify this; perhaps it's a character study.

---

The first time he kisses her, it's just to stem the flow of words from her pretty mouth. They are arguing about something, and as is often the case once they get going, he can't even remember where or why it started. Sometimes he suspects that maybe they do it more out of habit than anything else; he no longer believes they are quite as different as he thought they were when he had her detained at the airport upon her return from Guatemala so long ago.

Still, they are just different enough.

A list fifty names long stalks his dreams and pushes him to execute one more warrant, pore over one last bit of evidence, empty one more clip at the shooting range. The next day he gets up and does it again.

Hers is a different sort of list, and it's only two names long. But the length is irrelevant. It is the fact that it exists that matters. The list drives her to reassemble one more skull, clean one final shard of bone, work one last hour, as the shadows grow longer and the hours till dawn grow shorter.

There are nights when his list chases him from his bed, and when he tires of pacing his cage and hearing the floorboards creak beneath the staccato beat of his feet, he stuffs his legs into an old pair of jeans and throws on the navy sweatshirt he picked up years ago when he trained at the Academy in Quantico.

FBI—Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity.

Does he embody any of those values? On those nights, he can't find the answer, so even though he knows his hair must be a mess, he doesn't look in the mirror to fix it. Looking would mean seeing.

Some nights he drives, riding I-95 into Maryland, Virginia. Mostly trucks are his companions on those late nights and early mornings, their red taillights leading him...somewhere, as they belch diesel fumes like hulking monsters of rubber and steel. He is small by comparison, he thinks. So small.

Other nights he drives to the Jeffersonian to see if she is still there. Sometimes she is.

One night he finds her asleep on the couch in her office, her head resting at an angle he knows will make her neck and shoulders hurt when she wakes in a few hours. The way her body curls in on itself suggests she is cold, and sure enough, as he stands with his head bent and watches her, she shivers. So he goes back out to his car and returns with the knit afghan his mother made him when he became a Ranger. The red has dulled, the white has turned almost gray, and the blue has faded with time. Though some of the yarn has split into separate plies, he knows the afghan is as warm now as it was when his mother gave it to him.

He lays it over her and waits.

He plays a game in his head; he can't leave until she moves. It takes fifteen minutes that first night—before she stretches out one long leg.

But after she moves once, he has to leave. It takes several tries before he can force his own legs to take him further than the doorway of her office.

With a nod, he says goodbye to the security guard and finally leaves the building.

He goes home and falls asleep and dreams no more that night.

The next day, he wears his flashiest belt buckle and most whimsical socks in the hope that they will keep her scientist's eyes from observing the slight shadows he knows are painted under his eyes. They don't have a case, but he stops by to see her anyway. She is seated on her couch, bent over a stack of papers. With a sigh, she rubs her hand over her neck, and he realizes he was right. Before he can think better of it, he smooths his hands over the place where her neck meets her shoulders. She jumps and turns around, her mouth twisted in a frown that melts into a smile when she realizes who it is.

They talk about nothing important, and as he joins her on the couch, his eyes search for the afghan, his afghan, and find it folded neatly over one of the armrests.

The next time he comes by the Jeffersonian at night and finds her dreaming on her couch, he notices that the afghan is draped over her. He smiles and leaves.

---

Booth tries to be a good Catholic.

Church on Sunday. Prayers every night. Confession when necessary.

But there is one thing he never voices as he kneels in the confessional and inhales the desperation of those who occupied the space before him. That thing, he knows, is what he most needs to confess. For it must be a sin, to want something as badly as he wants her. She's pure in ways he can't even remember being, and he knows one day he'll sully that purity.

Confessing this sin is not an option. Because not only would he receive God's pardon during confession, he would also be empowered to resist the sin in the future.

He can't bear to do that.

Never a question of if, only when.

Weeks, months, years unravel.

The translucence of her skin and the cut crystal of her eyes are the sun—nearly blinding him with their brilliance. He tries not to look, tries to delay the inevitable. Still, he's weak—a creature of flesh and bone—and one day, he'll succumb.

He waits.

Booth is willing to die. For his country. For a stranger. For her. But he's unwilling to do it without having known the comfort of blindness. He yearns to lay his down his burden for a moment and prop himself against her steel conviction, lose himself in her black and white world, and forget gray—the place where he lives.

He waits.

---

"I'm sorry," he mutters, just before, knowing with absolute clarity that it is both a lie and the truth.

The first time he kisses her, it's just to stem the flow of words from her pretty mouth. Or so he tells himself.

She smacks him; he doesn't even flinch. A moment later, she grabs the lapels of his jacket and tugs him toward her. He is startled to see himself reflected in her eyes during the second before their mouths meet again.

There is heat and light and the warm pressure of her body against his. They stumble as she shoves him back against the brick wall. He inhales the air that has just left her lungs and finds it's suddenly easier to breathe.

When he slowly opens his eyes, it is to light, not complete darkness. Sunlight catches a thousand shades in her hair. There are roses blooming in her cheeks and thunderclouds brewing in her eyes, and he knows he put them there. Her mouth moves, but no words come out. She blinks and tilts her head to the side, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time.

A stinging cheek is a small price to pay.

She stares at him, he stares at her—seeing at last.

I once was lost, but now I'm found.*

*This is a lyric from Amazing Grace, a Christian hymn.

Comments

[xfirefly9x.livejournal.com]

Beautiful!

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

[douxquemiel.livejournal.com]

Ahhh, like a tall, cool, glass of water. Good Bones fic. So rare, and yet, so worth it. Thanks!!

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

Thank you! :) I'm extremely flattered that you thought this qualified as "good Bones fic."

[auror-scully.livejournal.com]

A stinging cheek is a small price to pay.
Small price indeed. Absolutely brilliant fic!

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

*blushes* Thanks. So glad you liked this. :)

[emmademarais.livejournal.com]

One of the better Bones fic I've read.

(And why is there so little fic in this fandom? /mind boggles/)

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

(And why is there so little fic in this fandom? /mind boggles/)

Well, if you're willing to brave the wilderness of Fanfiction.net, you'll find a ton. Granted, much of it will make you want to scream and claw your eyes out, but there is some lovely writing there, too.

[landrews.livejournal.com]

Yay!! Good Bones fic! I got so tired of reading bad!fic that I've been neglecting reading anything for dbfandom.com Thank you so much for this great character study. I like the keeping-it-close POV and style. Could I have this for the archive at the site above? Please reply to landrews8@gmail.com- thanks!

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

Hi. Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm tremendously flattered that you thought this fit in the "good Bones fic" category. I'd be honored to have this archived at dbfandom.com. I'll email you at the address you mentioned.

Again, thank you!

[greenovalfruit.livejournal.com]

*snorkles*

YES SNORKLES

BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Fantastic. Very pretty, very poetic. Love the afghan part - how adorable. And the smack. That is so confused!Brennan.

Teehee.

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

I love your Little Mermaid icon. :)

Thank you for saying this was pretty and poetic. Both are words I am beyond flattered to have associated with anything I've written. *hugs*

[http://users.livejournal.com/alderaan_/]

So beautiful. I like the confession part especially. Very pretty.

Besos

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm so pleased you thought this was pretty. I like the idea of Booth confessing...

BTW, your icon is breathtaking. That is one beautiful man.

[charmingkarla.livejournal.com]

that was a great fic, I erally enjoyed it, well done.

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Karla. So glad you enjoyed it. :)

[carmen-sandiego.livejournal.com]

Very nice, I like the Booth perspective on this and how deeply, deeply committed he is to her. The kiss was fantastic, I love the slap and then her revelatory 2nd kiss. Nice job!

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I was trying something different with this, and I'm happy I didn't totally flame out.

"Deeply committed" sounds about right; I think he is, for better or worse.

I'm glad the kiss, slap, and second kiss worked for you.

Thanks again for reading and commenting; it means a lot to me.

[toithaka.livejournal.com]

Beautiful story. I've been going through your Bones fics since coming across "What Would Happen if We Kissed?" and this one has completely blown me away. There is such exquisite artistry and finesse in your writing that I had to reread several lines to make sure I had savored it completely. Some of my favorite:

But there is one thing he never voices as he kneels in the confessional and inhales the desperation of those who occupied the space before him.

The red has dulled, the white has turned almost gray, and the blue has faded with time. Though some of the yarn has split into separate plies, he knows the afghan is as warm now as it was when his mother gave it to him.

He yearns to lay his down his burden for a moment and prop himself against her steel conviction, lose himself in her black and white world, and forget gray—the place where he lives.

That last line is probably my favorite because it embodies so well what it is I love about Bones--how her living in the real world doesn't mean living in uncertainty. I'm also slightly biased because I love how stories unfold in this tense; I feel like it draws the reader in even more. The repetition of that first line is another wonderful touch, bringing the piece full circle. Bravo. Can't wait for more from you.

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much for your thoughtful comments; I'm so pleased you enjoyed this.

This was the first time I wrote fanfic in present tense, and it opened up new possibilities. I use it more frequently now.

That last line is probably my favorite because it embodies so well what it is I love about Bones--how her living in the real world doesn't mean living in uncertainty.

No, it doesn't; Brennan has definite opinions. *g*

Thanks again for taking the time to let me know that you enjoyed this; I sincerely appreciate it. :)

[faith-less-one.livejournal.com]

*has tears in eyes*

That was absolutely perfect, darling. You've got Booth's inner monologue down exactly.

*runs off to rec it to all she knows*

[lerdo.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you so much! I'm thrilled that you connected with this and thought I captured Booth well. If you don't mind my asking, how did you find this story?

Another awesome fic!

[obsidianagirl.livejournal.com]

I am doing the happy dance because your writing so lovely, deep and emotion steeped.

Sid

[amilyn.livejournal.com]

Excellent writing, excellent word choice to build and maintain this emotional tension. Nicely done.

[0penhearts.livejournal.com]

He yearns to lay his down his burden for a moment and prop himself against her steel conviction

So much of this was so beautiful, but I love that line especially; such a wonderful visual description.