The Tears in the Tape

A response to the October Bonesology challenge prompt: Christine's reaction to Booth's video from 8.13, The Twist in the Plot.

Timeline: Hopefully, sometime after 2050. Assuming Booth makes it to age 75 or more...the later the better.

Seated cross-legged on the bare wood floor, Christine Booth brushed her bangs out of her eyes and swept a lock of hair behind her ear. Three cardboard boxes sat open around her as she pulled the VCR player from the fourth one she'd searched. She stood up and stretched before heading downstairs out of the attic.

As she moved toward the ladder stairway, she glanced at the neatly-labelled boxes of Christmas decorations stacked nearby. How many years had that been her favorite Black Friday evening activity with her dad? Pulling out each box of garland, lights, ornaments, and holiday tchotchkes and deciding which to haul downstairs to decorate the tree they'd select that weekend.

Christmas had always been Seeley Booth's favorite time of year, and his daughter relished each tradition they had shared, now sweet memories to cherish in a few months. She swiped at her eyes, grasped the handrail and climbed down.

Her mother was at the lab for the first time since Booth's funeral. Last night, Brennan had taken her daughter into her office, gestured to the comfortable loveseat across from her desk, and walked to the wall safe behind her desk. Christine complied silently, filled with curiosity.

She watched as her mother slowly rotated the combination lock dial, stopping deliberately at several numbered notched. Her long slender fingers trembled slightly. Opening the door, Brennan extricated a video cassette, something Christine hadn't seen since her days of watching every Winne the Pooh program ever made at Granpa Max's house.

"We should've converted this to DVD," Brennan muttered to herself.

"Christine, honey, in order to watch this, you'll have to retrieve the VCR player from the attic. It is in one of the boxes I labelled 'Bric a Brac' stacked near the chimney, I think. I could find it quickly, but it would be foolish of me to crawl around up there hunting for it. Your father would probably come back and scold me if he could…" Her voice faltered a little.

"Mom, what's on that tape?"

Brennan closed the door to her safe, rose from her office chair and returned to sit beside her child.

"Your father recorded a video message for you, when you were a baby; long before we knew Hank would be joining the family. We had a case involving eco-burial and discussed our preferences for how our remains should be treated. My will was 312 pages and your father's was written on a sticky note. He said all he needed was a casket and a priest, while I wanted a Tibetan sky burial."

"A sticky note? That's all?...Wait…Sky burial? Really Mom? That's a terrible option! Yuck! I refuse to let anyone hack you into pieces! I bet Dad freaked when he heard that!"

Brennan chuckled. "How well you know your father! You are quite correct; he expressed extreme distress at my idea. And of course, I made adjustments to accommodate his feelings. My alternate choice seemed to calm him. He said scattering my ashes into an active volcano would be an opportunity for a nice family trip."

"Volcano? Mom, geesh!"

'Your father didn't seem impressed that I had shortened my will to 306 pages; said it was too much to read, so I marked the pertinent pages for him. Of course, when I die, Christine, you and Hank will need to read the entire document to insure proper continuation of my income streams to various charities. I've updated the educational behest to continue for our descendants since you and Hank have matured—"

"306 pages?! Good grief!" Christine paused, then continued quietly, "Mom, please…I really don't wanna hear about that now; it's hard enough to deal with losing Dad," she whispered.

"Of course, honey. I'm rambling, and a little distracted. I never thought your dad would go first."

Sniffing a bit, breathing deeply and clearing her throat, Brennan reached over to hug her daughter.

"Besides, you need to see this by yourself. To my knowledge your father never revised it to include your brother…In fact, I don't believe he ever actually finished it…" Brennan smiled to herself.

"You'll see what I mean…."

bbbbbbbbb

Christine retracted the folding ladder and pulled the cord which raised it back into the ceiling, then walked through the kitchen and descended the stairs to her father's mancave. She plugged the VCR player into the wall, set it next to the vintage turntable her father had used in his Army days, and inserted the videotape.

The compact VCR unit included a screen on which she had watched Disney movies at her parents' cabin the first few summers after it was built. By the time Hank was born, they had updated to DVD technology, but kept the older unit at Max's place for 'Granpa time.'

Turning on the self-contained unit brought tears to her eyes. So many thoughts of Max; so many memories of her tall omnipotent father. Her childhood awe and adoration of him had never changed. Her dad could do anything. After a few minutes of outright sobbing, Christine wiped her eyes, took several deep breaths and pressed 'Play'.

On the screen appeared her father, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a well-worn Flyers tshirt, faded to soft gray. He sat forward on a couch in the house she'd seen pictures of but barely remembered. Elbows on his knees, Booth leaned toward the camera as he talked, his voice was soft, warm, and earnest.

"Hey there, Christine. It's me, your father. Dad. Dada. Daddy. If you're watching this right now, I'm dead."

Christine covered her mouth with her hand, listening as her father poured out his thoughts to the baby daughter she'd been. Hearing his thoughts on God and his life, Christine grinned when he started to explain her mother's very different beliefs on the subject, then referred her to that beloved source. She watched through her tears as he continued,

"These are the last words that I'm going to-to speak in this world, so here goes. Okay. I like God, I really like God, and I and I think that he likes me. You know, I, um I love Canadian beer. And hockey."

She laughed out loud at his next endearing admission.

"You know, personally, I'm doing everything I can to get into Heaven right now."

"Dad, If I'm sure of anything, I know you made it in. St. Peter wouldn't think of keeping you out! And you were a good father, the very best! No one could've done better-" At this point, she choked, unable to continue.

Mopping her eyes, Christine smiled proudly at Booth's statements about his love of country and military service. Then she heard,

"I'm the luckiest man in the world because I got to spend time with your mother. And with you. And that's true, you know? It's true whether I I die today or 50 years from now. It's true. Okay? I love you."

This declaration brought more tears coursing down her cheeks.

"We're both so lucky, Dad, and I love you too! So very much!"

Suddenly Christine noticed a head poking around the corner of the room. Her mother, hair braided into short plaits behind her ears. She smiled in spite of her sadness. Her dad was oblivious, completely unaware of the silent audience of one behind him. Her mother was listening intently. After a few moments, Brennan's loving expression softened noticeably.

Booth's fatherly admonitions to love life, dive in, question, try, and be happy were so characteristic of him. So much in keeping with the brave courageous optimism with which he'd faced life. Despite the dark period Christine knew he'd endured, her father had lived his life with hope for better days and faith that they would come.

His next request didn't surprise her.

"And don't forget to laugh. Oh, one last favor. Um, help your mom to be happy. Because if she's alone, she's gonna forget."

Seeley Booth had always thought of others before himself. Especially his wife and children. And how right he was about his Bones.

Without her Booth, Christine knew her mother felt like half a person, no longer whole. Their daughter sighed, knowing that she, Hank, and Parker had a tough job ahead trying to fill that void for their mom.

As she continued to watch, Booth began to wrap up his final soliloquy.

"That's it. That's from me to you."

Suddenly Brennan ran forward, past her husband, and launched herself into his arms.

"Whoa! Okay."

Christine laughed aloud.+

Startled Booth hugged her to prevent a tumble to the floor. Reacting to Brennan's tears which Christine couldn't see, but sensed, he continued,

"All right. I'm still alive, Bones."

Then he ruefully chided her,

"And you know what? You shouldn't be eavesdropping. And you messed the end up here. Now I have to change it!"

But he never had, and Christine was so very glad. This moment in time when her parents were young and vigorous, was a treasure she knew she would share with Hank and Parker and Brennan.

Her mother could explain the context well enough to prevent her brothers' hurt feelings.

As Chrisitne watched to tape to its end, her dad pulled Brennan sideways onto his lap. This awkward embrace between her parents caught by the camcorder was so indicative of their unbreakable connection, that their daughter smiled in triumphant satisfaction, knowing that nothing, not even death, could divide her parents.

As they always told their children, the center would hold.

A/N: The dialogue on Booth's tape was taken from the SpringfieldSpringfield!uk script source. After several attempts to list the web address, I've concluded that FF prevents this type of citation for some reason. Although, I can't imagine why, when a writer is documenting the non-plagiaristic use of others' material.