Title: Domesticating Temperance

Author: Lina

Summary: With the weight of human history weighing on her shoulders, can Temperance Brennan ever be anything other than alone?

Disclaimer: The character of Temperance Brennan belongs to Kathy Reichs. All other character belong to Fox and any other responsible parties.

Notes: The Tollund Man is an unbelievable sight to behold, I suggest everyone whose interested should take a look: http/home6.inet.tele.dk/hjortspr/Tollundmand.htm. Once again, the song is The Dreaming Tree.

Acknowledgements. This one's for Sorrowful Jones, and all of us directionless fools out there. Dissertation or not, SJ, you did this.

Below it he would sit, for hours at a time

Fifty years ago Viggo and Emil Hoejgarrd took a walk in their backyard and stumbled upon one of the most amazing finds in archaeological history. The Tollund Man, aptly named for the region in Denmark where he was found, brags an age of 2,400 years. He was found perfectly preserved due to an ancient peat bog in the area. He is the most intact "mummy" ever found in the world. He still possesses hair on his head, chin and upper lip. He still has eyelashes. The wrinkles on his face are so well preserved it's incredibly easy to assign him an expression, a smile, a personality. As it is, he just looks like he is sleeping the peaceful slumber one could only get from a three millennia long nap.

The Tollund Man lived in the early Iron Age, closely approaching the Bronze. He lived during a time of magnificent shipbuilding. The type of ships referred to as Hjortsprings, were plank-built canoes. The boat is manned by twenty-four persons, weighs 1100 pounds with passengers, and is roughly 8 feet long. Hjortsprings were found in a similar peat bog on an island in Denmark. With it were hundreds of tools still perfectly intact. The Hjortsprings live on in concept, restoration, and renewal. The Tollund Man simply lives on.

Now progress takes away, what forever took to find

It was an unusually quiet night at the Jeffersonian. Usually, even on a Sunday, staff members would be identifying bones, 'squinting' into microscopes, and just generally milling around. Tonight, however, Temperance Brennan seemed to be the only person possessing a PHD in the building. The lights of the lab were still on, but the quiet was deafening. This actually suited Dr. Brennan just fine, as her thoughts were screaming loud enough.

She had finally made the call. The fact that it was Sunday seemed to reinforce the fact that this was a personal call, not one iota of business to be found. He would know that this was a personal call and he would probably be aware that there hadn't been a personal call since their last one got a little too personal. The tension of her whole body was the only visible proof of her inner turmoil. The queasiness in her stomach was due to something else entirely. She scribbled furious notes around papers on her desk. She had decided the first thing she needed to do to take her mind off of her impending doom, was to work on her novel. For the first time in her life, fiction was easier than fact.

"Bren? Bren, are you here? The door was unlocked so I just came on in. You sounded really weird on the phone. Sweetie, are you here?….. Oh, hon."

It was one of the most difficult conversations that Temperance had ever had in her entire life. Angela had been wonderful. She had reassured her that she could do what she was about to do. Perhaps rehashing the conversation she had with her would make the upcoming one all that much easier. Oh, who was she kidding? Nothing was going to make this easier.

Angela took tentative steps into the bathroom. In the entirety of her bizarre friendship with the anthropologist, she had never seen anything quite like this. It was a study in human sorrow, confusion and despair. Brennan was tucked into the corner of her bathroom, unseeing eyes focused on the sink counter, soundless tears dripping on her cheeks. Angela followed the gaze and literally felt every last breath leave her.

"Oh, holy shit." Gravity became too much of an overwhelming force, and she sank to floor with her friend. The whispered epithet brought the other woman's attention into the present. The torment in Brennan's eyes brought so many questions into the forefront. Angela knew, though, that asking them now would be the worst idea she'd had since that drunken Fiji wedding. The thoughts kept on coming. Brennan would have told her if she was seeing someone, right? She couldn't count how many times Bren had told her that she was never going to have children. Was she going to quit? They were completely random, but Angela had no idea what to say at this point.

"What am I going to do, Angela?"

Tempe was starting to jot down a new thought onto a new paper when she heard the distinct patterned clip of highly polished, expensive dress shoes on the marble floor. They were getting louder. This was it. Even crying onto the tile of her bathroom wouldn't ever make this as real as it is now. She was determined to finish her notes before his presence invaded her space, broke her bubble. She increased the fierceness of her writing until the footsteps stopped. She stopped writing, paused and slowly raised her head.

"Oh, hon, I have no earthly idea." Angela blew out a harsh breath. "First, I'm going to need some idea of what's going on."

Finally their eyes connected. Brennan thought of all of the possible things that she could say. All of the possible explanations. Occam's Razor: 'one should not increase, beyond what is necessary, the number of entities required to explain anything'.

"I'm pregnant." Angela's snort made Brennan frown.

"Yeah, I caught that, sweetie. How'd you get that way?" When Brennan opened her mouth, Angela beat her to the punch. "Please, please! Don't give me the anthropological view of the birds and the bees. Just tell me who, when…why? Do I want to know why?"

This was something that the good doctor could do. State the facts, distance herself from all of the emotional crap. Talk to Angela like she would in the middle of a case. Then she realized that admitting all of things out loud would make the unfathomable situation a stark reality and she lost her confidence.

"Booth. It was Booth." She whispered in confession."

Now he stood in front of her, looking disarmingly casual in a v-neck sweater, jeans and (still, perfectly polished and expensive) loafers. She supposed she shouldn't cast stones as she'd opted for the sweat pants and sweater jacket combo.

"Well, well, well Bones. You called, I came a-runnin'. Guessing by your stunning attire, I assume this isn't work related. What gives?" His teasing grin almost overcame the guarded look in his eyes.

She was surprised at how long she realized it'd been since she honestly got a good look at the man. He seemed weary, despite his clean-cut appearance. He had bags under his eyes , his pale face looked taught and tired. She finally understood that this had affected him as well. This distance between them was not just of her making, she was not the only one suffering in silence.

"Have a seat, Booth." She drew her knees up into the chair, into the protective stance she'd perfected since that night in her bathroom.

He approached tentatively. He was trying to read her, she could tell. He looked for answers with a detective's eye, reading body language. She was pretty sure he wasn't going to figure it out just by looking at her. She felt increasingly nauseous at the thought. He couldn't, could he? As an anthropologist she knew that when pregnant, the female body begins to take on the shape of an expectant mother. As a female, she knew her body was exhibiting some of these changes. She had no idea if he could tell or not. She was beginning to realize just how little she actually knew this man.

"Your, kidding……oh, God. You aren't kidding." Angela looked very much like a rendition of "The Scream", mouth in an 'o', hand against cheek.

"Why would I joke about this, Ang?"

"It wasn't literal, Bren. When did this happen, are you guys dating? No, I can't see you guys dating. I mean, there some obvious chemistry there, but I never thought either of you would act on it. I can't believe you acted on it. If this was a different situation, I think I'd be a little proud of you."

Brennan tried to absorb everything Angela was saying, but with the previous discovery of her current situation, it all seemed a bit overwhelming. Her breathing became labored and she felt her body start shaking again. Tears released and followed the previous tracks on her wet cheeks.

"Oh, no. Bren, I'm sorry. I'm an insensitive ass." Angela scooted closer to her friend and wrapped a loose arm around the shaking woman. "You just caught me off guard, thus the babbling, you know?"

Brennan's breathing evened out and the trembling quieted.

"It's okay, Ang. I've been doing that consistently since I came in here." She whispered in a husky tone. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was not the plan."

"There was a plan?" Brennan gave her a look.

"To never have children. To never be in this situation, but here I am and I have no idea what to do."

"You're going to tell him, right?" Angela looked at her with open-eyed curiosity.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" The pure look of innocence on answered a lot of Angela's questions. She found herself truly shocked. The quiet whispered question was as surprising to both women.

"So your going to keep it?….. Why?"

"Does it really matter?"

"No. It doesn't"

There was a pause while both women let the idea sink in. Brennan was going to be a mother. Angela almost smiled. Brennan didn't have a clue about what she was getting herself into. Angela knew that the privilege of being her friend's confidante was going to throw her right in the middle of the inevitable upheaval.

"Well, you and Booth certainly have a dynamic," Angela continued "He's already a decent father, and he'll be able to tell you a lot of things that you don't know-"

"Which is everything."

"I think you know more than you think. I think you know exactly how you're going to tell him. It's just buried deep and you'll figure it out when you need to."

"I… um… I--hmm. Well I….um." Bones blew out an aggravated huff. She rolled her eyes and tried to tuck her knees closer to her stomach, which was starting to protest the added agonies of her nervous system. Apparently Angela was very wrong.

Booth finally took a seat.

"While your eloquence astounds me-" Bones cut him off with a raised hand.

"Do you remember what I told you about sarcasm in the workplace? It's not helping me any in this situation either." At Booth's raised eyebrow, Bones knew that it was finally sinking in that this was an entirely personal interaction.

"What's going on, Bones. I know things haven't been exactly….easy for us over the past couple of months, but you can tell me anything. You should know that." The surprise in Bones' eyes quickly caught his attention. He knew this was the first time either of them came close to acknowledging what had happened between them. He lowered his voice. "Is that what this is about, Bones? Is it about that night?"

Brennan took a shuddering breath. The knots in her stomach were increasing exponentially.

"Yes. Sort of. Wow, I really don't know how to say what it is I need to say. I've never felt like this before. Obviously." So very wrong, Angela, so very wrong.

"I think I figured out what you needed to say when you left that morning, Bones. You really don't need to-- Bones? Are you alright, you look…?" Before Booth could tell her what she looked like, her stomach hit a breaking point. She burst from her chair to sprint to the lab's facilities. She barely made it into the stall in the bathroom before retching out the entire content of her stomach.

Breathing hard, tears running down her face unchecked, she sat against the cold metal wall of the stall and let the chill seep into her warmed skin.

"Do you know about the Tollund Man, Ang?" Brennan asked quietly.

"The peat bog guy? Yeah, I think it was talked about in a first year anthropology class I took, the only one, by the way. I don't think I'll ever forget that picture of him, it really sticks with you doesn't it?" Angela found herself very curious about where Brennan was going with this, normally she rolled her eyes at the doctor's thought processes, but this was an entirely different animal.

"He was nearly three thousand years old and the exact lines of his face and the texture of his skin, they live on. He is, literally, a face of history in its purest form. He immortalized himself by accident, just was buried in the right place at the right time. So many people strive for immortality through fame or infamy, artistry or forward thinking. I'm just as guilty, I don't just write books for my fans you know, I write them for me. There is a thrill seeing your name in print, knowing it will be there, in physical form, for a very long time.

"Yeah, I get that."

"But this, Angela. Having a child. That's living forever."

"You're not going to come out dancing with me again, are you?"

She knew she had to go back out there or else she'd never get through this, never say what she needed to. She stood on shaky legs and walked to the sink. She splashed water on her face and grabbed for a paper towel. She slowly dried her hands and face and disposed of the wet cloth. She walked over to the door took a deep breath and opened. All plans to return to her office were nixed when she saw Booth sitting against the wall opposite to the bathroom head in his hands. Upon hearing her exit, he raised his head and stared at her directly.

"I think we should probably go to the vending machines and get you some Sprite. While we do that you are going to tell me exactly what it was you needed to talk to me about."

At that moment she knew, she wasn't going to tell him anything. She didn't need to, he already knew.

Now he's falling hard, he feels the falling dark

How he longs to be, beneath his dreaming tree

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A/N: Thanks to all for the reviews, they let me know if I should continue. wink