Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.
A.N.: I just had to write this. It was buzzing in the back of my brain. To understand it you must have seen Season 6´s "The Bones That Weren't". It's in Brennan's POV.
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The Realization in Pink
Our daughter had been playing.
We had decided to come to the park while Booth was at the Hoover finishing paperwork. It was only logical to find some sort of distraction instead of staying at home doing nothing.
It was a quiet and calm day. The familiar surroundings of the park, with the coffee cart at its usual location, and people jogging in a quick rhythm till they reached it.
It was a quiet and calm day, only to be changed by an innocent question.
"Mommy, can I have the sunglasses?"
The visceral reaction caught me by surprise. I could only grip said article harder. Like I was trying to make sure nothing took it away from me.
For a long time I had prided myself on having my emotions in check. But since entangling myself with the Bureau, and a certain agent of theirs, came to realize no matter how hard I tried, the feelings I thought forgotten would surface at any moments' notice.
It was quite absurd to have this sudden feeling of vulnerability. Like I was reliving the moment when someone had made a similar request. I could still see the white of the bed sheets hugging her frame whilst he caressed her wearing an anxious expression.
A tug in my shirt brought me back to the present. I looked down only to see tiny blue eyes marred with a rather familiar anxious expression.
This was when I finally looked at my hand. The sunglasses I grasped so hard were pink and small.
And just like that, I laughed while pulling this little human being into my lap. The sudden need to kiss her little nose, overwhelming.
She was the evidence that everything happens for a reason.
The Universe gives you clues, even when you are not ready to interpret them. If Booth were here, he'd tell me how it was the work of his God.
Sometimes, you need a push in the right direction. Or several.
I needed something to pull away the veil covering my eyes. I didn't listen or always knew the meanings of metaphors. I didn't know, or, more often than none, didn't want to know.
It was only appropriate the one item that, in a sense, could keep the façade I wore back then, was persuasively taken away from me.
It may take time, but you'll eventually realize: not everything you miss, you need.