I Thought About You

Brennan heard a stifled 'knock, knock' on the door of her. She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. 10.32 pm. It was Booth. There was a very slim chance that anyone else would be visiting her this late. Opening the door, she sighed and was about to tell him to go away, because she really didn't want to talk to him right now, but Booth was standing on her doorstep holding a plastic bag filled with Chinese takeout. He was soaked, and only then did she realise that it was pouring outside, and with the crappy parking, he probably walked a few blocks to her building. As she stood aside and let him come inside, she smelt the Chinese, felt her stomach rumble and suddenly realised she was ravenously hungry.

Booth put the plastic bag on her kitchen bench and pulled out various plastic boxes, filled with noodles and dumplings. Brennan got some spoons out, because last time Booth had brought over takeout, he kept dropping rice and sauce on her carpet. Even though he had apologised a million times, there was still some small soy sauce stains on the rug.

As they sat down to eat, Booth noticed that her face showed the telltale signs of recent crying. Her eyes were slightly puffy and there were damp tear-tracks on her cheeks. He sighed. It had to have been the case.

They had been working on a case that was particularly close to home for Brennan. A 15-year-old girl had committed suicide (by drowning herself), and her decomposing body had been found in a local lake. When they had started doing some digging around to find a bit about her (to rule out murder, until suicide was positive cause of death), they had found that her parents had disappeared when she was 5, and they had been found dead some years later. She had then gone into foster care, separated from her brother, and had been with at least 6 families. They found no evidence of foul play, so the report read cause of death: suicide. They hadn't been able to contact her parents, or brother.

Case closed.

Brennan had been very quiet and distracted all day, and Booth had overheard Angela talking to Cam. She had said that maybe Brennan shouldn't work on the case, because it was very close to her past, and it was clearly affecting her. Cam had sighed, softly and tiredly. "She'll be fine. You know Dr Brennan, so you should know how well she compartmentalises her life. This is just another case for her."

"Yeah, but...well, look, Cam. Some things you just can't forget, you know? Especially family-related stuff. And I'm her best friend. I know that, even if she doesn't show it, she's hurting on the inside." Angela had a slightly pleading look and her listen-to-me-because-I-know-people-better-than-you voice on.

Cam sighed again.

"Okay, well, don't take her off the case. Just...give her something else to do, like identify a mummy or something. This is a museum, after all. Surely there's a mummy or some muscly Stone Age hunter guy lying around here without a name. Please?"

When Cam said nothing, Angela turned and walked away. Booth had made up his mind at that point to go over and check up on her that evening, no matter how 'normal' she seemed by that afternoon. He knew that Angela was speaking the truth. Bones was extremely rational, and compartmentalised her life so much it was like she had a different brain for every situation. But she was human, and like every other human on the planet, had emotions. She didn't show them, but that didn't mean that they weren't there.

He followed Angela back to her office and popped his head around the doorway.

"Hey, Angela? I...um, couldn't help overhearing yours and Cam's conversation. Do you really think that Bones is upset?" Angela smiled. Trust Booth to come over all protective at the words 'hurting on the inside'. They both knew that Booth was in love with Brennan, and they both also knew that Booth knew the answer to that particular question.

"Booth, sweetie. I think we both know the answer to that question."

"Yeah. Listen, do you think that she'll be fine by the end of the day? I mean, murderers never sleep or have lunch or anything, right? So we'll probably have another case by the end of the day and she'll get distracted?"

Angela shot Booth one of her 'do-you-think-I-don't-know-that-you-know-that' looks.

"Okay. Enough with my stupid questions. Do you think that I should take some Chinese over tonight and check that she's okay? Or Thai, or Italian...or whatever's open." Booth sighed.

"Mmhmm. If you care enough to buy food and go over there and sit with her and make sure that she's okay, then go for it. And we both know that you do. So sure, go right ahead, sweetie." As Booth turned to leave her office, Angela called out.

"Hey, Booth? Some advice. Let her start talking about it. Don't try and force her to start talking, 'cos she will clam up and go all silent. You know how she is..."

"I sure do." Booth winked at Angela and walked away.

Sure enough, about half an hour later, a new case file was dumped on Booth's desk. Decomposed remains found in a park near the city centre. Forensic anthropologist expertise required. Crime-scene address. List of body parts recovered, damage and likely cause of death. Booth grabbed the file, his coat and the car keys and headed out of his office.

Much, much later that evening, Booth and Brennan had said goodnight. She had headed for her car, looking forward to a glass of wine, her pyjamas and her couch. He had headed for his office, filed some preliminary paperwork and then headed to the nearest Chinese takeaway store. He'd ordered her favourite vegetable dumplings and tofu stirfry noodles with extra soy sauce, then headed for her flat. As he knew, the parking in the area she lived in was notoriously terrible, and unless you lived there and had your own car-space, it was near impossible to get a spot.

He'd parked as close as he could, and as he walked it had began to pour with rain. Ominous dark clouds had been hovering over the city for days, getting steadily blacker. As he walked faster in the rain, there was a low rumble of thunder and a distant crack of lightning lit up the sky momentarily. He hugged the plastic bag containing the meals close to his chest, his breath making little clouds of steam like a train in the chilly night air. He had reached her apartment block, and, luckily, someone was also arriving at the same time. Someone with a key, and they thoughtfully held the door open, so he didn't need to stop in the bucketing rain to punch the code into the little buzzer.

After climbing the 4 flights of stairs to Bones' level, he knocked twice on the door. Muffled knocks, as the bag was still in his arms. Even though the bag had handles, he'd had bad experiences with shoddy plastic bags, hot food and knocking on doors in the past. Experiences that had stained carpets, ruined new jeans and angered past girlfriends for being stupid ("Why, for God's sake, didn't you put the bag on the ground before you tried to open the door, you idiot!"). To his great delight (the bag was reasonably heavy, and it was burning his arms through his jacket) Bones was still up, and opened the door relatively quickly. As he rushed for the table, he could see that she had been crying. Good thinking, Booth. Nice idea to come and check up on her! *mental high-five with yourself*.

As they settled down to eat, Brennan sighed. A sad, melancholy sigh. She rubbed the wooden chopsticks together and skewered a large vegetable dumpling on the end of one of the chopsticks. As she placed the steaming food into her mouth, she focused on eating. For a while, nothing was said and there was no sound except for chewing, the wind and rain pounding on the windows, the occasional rumble...crack! of thunder and the squelchy sound of noodles being put in a bowl.

Later on, when they had finished eating and Bones was in the kitchen making some coffee, Booth wandered in to find her looking for some cups. She had her back to him, but he instantly knew that something was wrong. She spun around when he entered, and he was slightly shocked to see her crying. Her face was blotchy, her eyes red and tears were streaming down her face, dripping off her chin and onto her top. At a loss for what to do, Booth took a step towards her, and wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her shaking and she gently wrapped her hands around his arms, like a small child clinging to their favourite toy.

As they stood there in the kitchen, Booth could hear her speaking incoherently through her tears. It was generally hard to understand, but occasionally he caught words which made some kind of sense. She was crying about her parents, and the fact that the girl that had killed herself was so like her, and that nobody was there to help her, that she 'thought she was over it', and that they couldn't find her parents or brother...he sighed softly. Her head was buried under his chin, and he could smell her conditioner, mingled with the sweet scent of her perfume. Standing there, Booth was glad that he had come over. He couldn't bear the thought of Bones, his Bones, crying all alone in this gloomy apartment.