Disclaimer: Bones belongs to Fox.
It was a warm, sunny spring day- the kind of day everyone dreams about all winter long. The sky was an impossibly bright, clear blue and the few perfectly white and fluffy clouds never seemed to cross paths with the sun. The temperature was in the low seventies and the breeze held no memory of winter's biting cold. A beautiful day. A perfect day.
This was exactly the sort of day Agent Booth loved to have Parker on. They could go to the park and play catch. They could go fishing in the stream or harass the duckies at the pond. They could even possibly catch a baseball game- Parker had never been to a major league baseball game, and today would be an ideal opportunity to introduce him to peanuts, cracker jacks, and yelling at the umpire.
Of course, "would be" were the key words there.
Booth exhaled slowly, his hand dangling out of the open driver's seat window, fingers drumming on the smooth black paint of his SUV. It was the first time in weeks the weather had permitted him to drive with the windows down, and he would be spending his day starting up a new and probably depressing case. The feeling inside him was reminiscent of the feeling he got as a high school kid when he was sitting in a classroom at the end of the school year, the first warm tendrils of summer creeping through the window, seducing all thoughts away from school work.
Look on the bright side...he thought to himself bitterly. It's not your weekend with Parker, so you wouldn't be spending time with him even if you weren't working.
And yet, there were worse ways he could be spending his day. He glanced away from the road for a second to look over at his partner in the passenger seat. Temperance Brennan's head was leaning slightly against the door, directed towards the open window so that she could fully take advantage of the warm spring breeze. Her eyes were shut, either in contemplation or sheer enjoyment. The sun was bright on her auburn curls, making them shiny like copper.
There were definitely worse ways he could be spending his day.
"Man..." he said, breaking the comfortable silence that permeated the SUV. "What a day, huh Bones?"
Her eyes opened and she straightened in her seat, regarding him with a small smile.
"It's nice out," she agreed briefly, her eyes scanning the perfect skyline.
"The first day of spring..." Booth sighed happily.
He didn't need to turn his head to know that Brennan was looking at him with that "too-smart-for-her-own-good" gleam in her eyes.
"You know Booth," she began, her tone all too familiar. "The first day of spring was actually back in March. The twenty-first to be exact."
He removed his sunglasses for the sole purpose of giving her a look.
"The first real day of spring," he amended. "Happy now?"
He looked over, but she had closed her eyes again, a slight smirk now on her face. Feeling a smile tugging his own lips, he turned his eyes back to the road. He executed a careful right turn onto a bumpy country lane. A few large, brightly striped tents loomed in the distance. They were almost at their crime scene.
Gravel crunched under the wheels of the SUV as Booth parked. Brennan looked around interestedly as she unbuckled. They were at a small fairground. It was mostly abandoned, its polyester tents glinting in the cheery sunlight. The only other occupants were a few disgruntled overall-clad farmers and the crime scene investigation crew.
"What is this place?" Brennan asked as she retrieved her kit from the backseat.
Booth deftly shut the door behind him, taking in the scene.
"Annual 4H fair," he said, watching her as she gathered her things. "Big farmer gathering."
He waited until she caught up beside them, and they approached the scene side-by-side. The few farmers there looked less than enthusiastic about their presence.
"Must not be a very good fair." Brennan commented. "There isn't anyone here."
Booth sighed and put his hand on Brennan's elbow, directing her towards the green and yellow striped tent to their left.
"We shut them down Bones," he said, keeping his tone patient. "Or else you'd gut me for letting a bunch of farm kids stomp all over your human remains."
He held up the yellow crime scene tape that blockaded off the entrance to the tent so Brennan could pass under.
"I would never gut you," she said absently. "Throttle you maybe."
Her eyes narrowed at the spot marked off in the corner of the tent, and she determinedly strode over. Booth followed slowly. In Brennan's quick shift into her crime scene mode, he had been unable to catch whether or not she had been joking with him.
He stood behind her at a safe distance, watching as she automatically swept her hair up into a ponytail and snapped latex gloves on her hands. Underneath the bed of hay that covered the packed dirt floor, a skeleton was visible. Brennan's hand swept delicately over the skull, brushing off wayward pieces of straw.
"These remains are in an extremely advanced stage of decomposition," she said, continuing to remove the straw obstructing her view. "There's neither soft tissue nor connective tissue left on any of the bones."
She opened her kit and liberated a small brush. With practiced ease, she began to brush the bones clean.
"So how long do you think they've been here?" Booth asked, peering over her shoulder.
Brennan looked up at him, her mouth twisting slightly as she considered her answer.
"It's difficult to say," she replied finally. "But taking into account that the weather has only begun to warm up in the past couple days, I'd estimate that these remains were placed here before winter. Otherwise they'd be better preserved."
She paused a moment to tilt her head at the now fully exposed skeleton.
"These remains are at least three months old," Brennan said, leaning in to examine the pelvis. "They were poorly covered. How is it they weren't found sooner?"
"These tents stay up year round, but are only used for one week a year," Booth explained. "Some kid came in the other day to replace the hay for the fair and discovered these."
He swept his hand in front of him to indicate the bones.
"So they could have been placed here anywhere from three months ago to one year ago?" Brennan asked, her eyes focused on the sciatic notch.
Booth nodded in agreement. He took a step back as Brennan stood, swiping hay and dirt off her jeans.
"Sciatic notch and iliac crest indicate female," she stated. "Twenty-five to thirty years old. Skull structure suggests Caucasian."
She stood with her hands on her hips, her voice confident as always.
"Any sign of foul play?" he asked.
"Skull shows signs of fracturing," she told him. "But I can't be sure of cause of death until we have the remains back at the lab."
"You ready for the CSI crew?" he asked her.
Greenish-blue, calculating eyes swept over the skeleton once more before she nodded and picked up her bag.
"I want the remains bagged along with soil samples," she said. "And I want them to comb through the hay. See if we can find any traces of clothing."
Booth nodded and touched her briefly on the back.
"I'll go tell them."
Booth stepped out of the tent and into the beautiful day. The CSI crew was awaiting his orders by the van. He instructed them carefully and thoroughly, reminding them that if they made any blunders, Dr. Brennan would have their heads. He momentarily watched them as they gathered up their gear.
After a minute, he shifted his attention to the group of farmers, standing with their arms crossed in a group. He walked over, flashing his badge. It took a mere ten minutes to record their names and numbers. There would be plenty of time for more serious interrogation later.
As he sauntered away from the grumbling farmers, he hooked his thumbs in his belt impatiently.
What's taking her so long? he wondered, looking to the tent where he had left Brennan.
Again, he ducked under the yellow crime scene tape to pop his head into the striped tent. It took less then ten seconds of assessment to determine that Brennan was not inside.
"Where'd Bones go?" he snapped at the closest CSI.
The CSI flinched at Booth's sharp tone.
"Dr. Brennan wasn't in here when we entered," he said, quickly moving away.
It still amazed Booth how quickly the knot of panic could twist his insides when it came to his partner. He strode out of the tent quickly and his eyes immediately scanned the open space between the tents. No Bones. He jogged over to the next tent.
"Bones?" he half-shouted into the gaping opening of the tent.
Nothing. Cursing under his breath he moved on to the next one. It was empty. The panic tightened his throat. Now practically running, he headed towards the largest tent. In his mind possible reasons for her sudden disappearance fired off, each more ludicrous than the last. He tried to be rational, but when it came to Bones, rationality wasn't really his thing.
As he entered the big tent, his senses were immediately assaulted with the sound, smell, and sight of farm animals. His eyes frantically looked over the rumps of cattle, the curly coats of sheep, and the blunt little horns of goat before settling on a slim woman leaning over one of the metal fences, auburn curls escaping her hair tie. Brennan.
His sigh of relief was mingled with slight anger and annoyance. Did she always have to run off like that? Did she have any idea what it did to him? Flicking off his sunglasses, he made his way over, clenching his teeth.
The crunch of hay under his shoes made his presence known to Brennan and she swung around. She was smiling and the effect was so immediate, Booth literally stopped in his tracks. Her eyes were sparkling, he noticed. His annoyance melted away.
"Booth!" she exclaimed, her voice colored with rare excitement. "Come look."
When he remained immobilized, she strode up to him and grabbed his arm with both hands. She guided him over to the metal fence.
"Look," she whispered, letting go of his arm to point.
Inside the fence, laying on a bed of dirty hay, was a tiny pink lump. Upon further inspection, Booth realized it was an extremely undersized piglet. It gave a tiny snort and stood on minuscule little hooves to examine the two humans peering at him from the other side of the fence.
"You like him?" a man's voice asked from behind them.
Booth and Brennan swiveled around. It was one of the farmers, a tall, bulky man. Booth had spoken to him barely a minute ago, but in the panic of losing Bones, had forgotten his name. Owen, something? His voice had a strong southern accent. He held a large rubber bottle in his hand.
"You can feed him if you like," he said. "I was just about to do it myself."
Booth put his hands up defensively, shaking his head no.
"I'll do it," Brennan offered, stretching her hand out to take the bottle.
Booth turned to her in surprise, but she wasn't paying attention to him. She had already swung herself over the gate and was sitting in the dirty hay, her hands reaching to the little runty piglet. The tiny thing squealed hungrily and climbed into her lap, feet leaving muddy hoove prints on her pants. It suckled at the bottle happily, milk dribbling down its snout and onto Brennan's crisp, clean blouse.
"Well look at that," the farmer remarked, moving to stand next to Booth. "Couldn't get the damned thing to eat myself. Guess it just took a lady's touch, eh?"
But Booth wasn't listening. Brennan was looking at the dirty little piglet with a shiny look in her eyes that made his throat ache. What wouldn't he give to have that same expression directed at him. To his surprise, he felt a prick of jealousy.
Jealous of a pig Seeley? he taunted himself. Man I must be losing it.
The hungrily little piglet finished its bottle and shoved its snout happily in Brennan's face. She laughed as it sniffed her ear.
"Where are its brothers and sisters?" she asked the farmer, now standing with the piglet in her arms. "It's highly unusual for a sow to have only one offspring at a time."
The farmer laughed a self-satisfied laugh.
"I sold the mama pig and the four other piglets yesterday," he proclaimed proudly. "The mama was a fat old thing. Bet she made a fine ham steak. Her piglets should make nice big Christmas hams by the time December rolls around."
Brennan had frozen. The piglet squirmed in her arms.
"But that one there," the farmer said, indicating the little runt. "Too small. Nobody wants him. I tried to fatten him up but it's seeming pretty hopeless. It's gonna be drowning for that one."
A look of disgusted anger crossed Brennan's face and her eyes iced over. Booth inwardly groaned. He had a bad feeling that he knew where this was headed.
"I'll buy him," she stated, her chin tilted in defiance.
The farmer regarded her doubtfully.
"This one'll barely make enough bacon for one breakfast," he told her. "He ain't worth the effort."
She glared at him.
"I don't intend on eating him," she hissed.
The farmer seemed stunned by her vehemence and looked to Booth questioningly. Booth sighed and reached over to pat Brennan on the shoulder.
"Calm down, okay Bones?" he whispered. "He's a farmer for crying out loud, not a murderer."
She looked at him over the head of the little pig she was clutching to her chest.
"He was going to drown him Booth," she said emphatically.
"Yea, well that's what farmers do to runts," Booth replied bluntly.
Brennan defensively pulled herself to her full height.
"Just because he deviates from the standard weight and size of a normal piglet doesn't mean-" she started, her voice rising with anger.
Booth cut her off.
"Okay, okay Bones. I get it," he sighed wearily. "You're in love with the little piggy."
She gave him a withering look and turned her back to him. He heard her mumbling softly to the little thing and scratching it behind its ears. Booth sighed yet again and looked back to the farmer. The farmer was watching Brennan and mentally taking note of the way she tenderly held the runty little thing. Booth could almost see the little cash signs going off in the farmer's bald head.
"Well I guess I can sell you the runt," he began casually.
Brennan turned around immediately.
"How much?" she asked, setting the piglet at her feet.
The pink little thing squealed and weaved around Brennan's feet.
"Wouldn't settle for less than one fifty," the farmer declared. "That piglet came from a line of the best swine on my farm."
"A dollar fifty?" Brennan asked, her brow furrowing.
The farmer laughed.
"That'd be a hundred fifty," he corrected.
Booth whistled lowly. Brennan's mouth gaped open. Her eyes darted between Booth and the farmer, outraged.
"But-but..." she sputtered. "You were just going to drown him!"
The farmer shrugged.
"Either take it or leave it."
Booth resisted the urge to smile as Brennan huffily pulled out her wallet. There was no way she would blow that much money on that puny thing. He watched her as she opened the flap. Her face fell.
"I must have..." she whispered to herself. "I thought I..."
The farmer was watching her.
"If you don't have the money now, you might as well leave," he said hooking his thumbs on the straps of his overalls.
She put her wallet away dejectedly and turned to Booth.
"Sorry Bones..." he said, touching her briefly between her shoulder blades. "Tough luck, eh?"
Brennan looked up at him, her teeth dragging across her bottom lip. Her eyes looked slightly moist. He could count the number of times he had seen Brennan cry on one hand. Booth found himself unable to turn away. The second her teeth released her bottom lip, it trembled slightly.
"Booth..." she pleaded softly.
No, no, no... he thought. I don't get paid for another four days and I'm down to my last two hundred...Not happening...
The corners of her lips turned down involuntarily. An unshed tear clung to a thick eyelash. Cursing silently, Booth pulled out his wallet.
Ten minutes later, and one hundred and fifty dollars lighter, Booth steered the SUV away from the crime scene, an impossibly happy Temperance Brennan sitting next to him. The dirty thing snorted enthusiastically on her lap. It put its front hooves on the dashboard, leaving minuscule, muddy hoove prints. She laughed at his antics and turned to Booth to see if he found it as endearing as she did. He managed to conjure up a weak grin.
"Well, you got your Jasper Bones," he said as it settled down in her lap to sleep.
Brennan frowned slightly, patting the piglet.
"Jasper?" she said softly. "No, I already have a Jasper."
Booth felt a stab of tenderness for the woman and he smiled at her, this time sincerely. She was still stroking the little piglet, which was now sound asleep.
"You're a regular Fern aren't you Bones?" Booth teased gently.
He was prepared for the confused look.
"I'm a fern?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at him.
Booth shook his head.
"Fern, Bones. It's the name of the little girl in Charlotte's Web?" he explained. "You know, the best selling children's book? Pig named Wilbur?"
"You read children's books Booth?" Brennan bantered.
"I have a kid Bones," he reminded her.
They lapsed into silence. Brennan scratched the piglet behind the ears, a thoughtful look on her face.
"Wilbur," she said finally. "I think I like that."
Author's note: Maybe a one shot...maybe not. Up to you all I guess.