"Who the hell," Booth snapped at Charlie as the two men walked into Booth's office, "plans a conference the day before a long weekend?"
"Our boss?" Charlie offered weakly, sinking into a chair. "Because a conference on terrorists and risks to the public are exactly what everyone wants to think about before joining big crowds to watch fireworks."
Snorting in agreement, Booth slumped into his own chair. "No kidding. How am I supposed to enjoy anything this weekend? As if we didn't already scan the crowd whenever we go somewhere."
"I, for one, am staying home. My wife and I bought alcohol and supplies to grill ourselves. No fireworks for us, unless you count the ones we plan on making."
"Stop. Just don't put that thought in my head," Booth grumbled, ignoring the amused smile on his friend's face.
"What?" Charlie asked, feigning innocence. It was so easy to get under Booth's skin. "You don't plan on making your own fireworks with Dr. Brennan this weekend?"
"Out," Booth ordered, pointing at the door. "And for your information, we will be watching real fireworks at Hodgins's estate. Thankfully, with the security there, I might actually be able to relax for five minutes."
"Plenty of empty rooms at an estate," Charlie offered before jumping out of the chair and heading for the door. As he exited, he bumped into a courier carrying an envelope.
"Agent Booth?" the man asked hopefully. It was late and this was his last stop for the day.
"In there," Charlie said, pointing to the man behind the desk. "Have a great weekend," he said with a wave, disappearing before Booth had time to respond.
"What do you need?" Booth asked, ignoring Charlie. He knew he should pack up and leave, but Bones was spending some time with her father and he wouldn't see her again until he picked her up for the party. He wasn't in a hurry to go home to an empty apartment.
Too used to spending time with her now, a quiet evening at home sounded like both the best and worst thing ever.
"Delivery," the man said quickly, holding out the envelope and clipboard.
Without looking too closely, Booth signed the form and watched the man race out of his office. It seemed like Charlie wasn't the only one looking forward to getting out of the building. In fact, looking out through his open door, it seemed as if he was the only one left.
Opening the nondescript envelope, a second smaller envelope slipped out to fall on his desk. Sealed, he turned it over to see nothing on the front except a date and a tiny number one written in the corner.
He recognized her handwriting instantly, but it took him a few heartbeats more before he understood exactly what he was holding in his hands.
Were there really so many that she had to number them to keep them straight?
The conversation hadn't been mentioned by either of them after the weekend. It was enough for him to know that she hadn't forgotten him or what they'd meant to each other at that time. Even if their relationship hadn't been clearly definable by either of them.
It appeared she had made a decision about the letters she'd written.
Now he was more than ready to leave the office behind and head to that empty apartment he dreaded. Computer shut down, bag packed, he made sure the envelope was secured before locking the office door behind him and leaving the place behind for a long weekend.
Traffic was miserable, made more so by the desire to open that envelope and see what she'd told him. She might claim there was nothing of consequence to be found, but he had a feeling they would disagree on that point. He'd missed every moment of her life for almost a year. If her letter included descriptions of nothing but empty dirt and pretty flowers, it was still something he wanted to read.
Keys in the bowl, shoes off and suit coat thrown over a chair, he pulled a beer from the fridge and sat on the couch. A drink to settle what were either nerves or excitement. Maybe a combination of both.
The glue had dried out during the last several years and the flap opened easily. There was a faint smell, but he might have been imagining that part. Out came a piece of notebook paper, more than likely ripped from whatever she had carried with her during the excavation.
"Dear Booth," he read to an empty room, smiling at her formality. "Today is the first day of our dig. Daisy is exuberant in her excitement and I find her extreme emotion difficult to deal with."
Picturing the intern and what Bones described, he took another drink from his bottle. How had she done it, working with the easily excitable woman? Had they shared a tent, too? He'd never thought to ask.
It was silly to read aloud to an empty room, but he liked hearing the words along with seeing them, so he decided to continue. "It is beautiful here on the Maluku Islands. They are very tropical with a variety of flora and fauna. I do not have the words to describe the colors, which I am sure are a sharp contrast to the desert in Afghanistan."
It was all Bones. Big words and formal speech that was only a part of her personality he was hopelessly in love with.
"I hope that your trip was uneventful. We have a phone here for emergencies and as long as there are no calls for me, I know you are safe."
He'd never tried to call her. Angela and Hodgins had her number, at any time he could have asked for it, but he never did. When the letters, or a letter didn't come, he'd assumed that she didn't want to hear from him.
A phone for emergencies. Any phone call for her meant an emergency. It was ruthlessly, logically Bones. How she must have cringed each time it rang, waiting to see if the call was for her.
"Continue to stay safe and I will do the same. I will write again soon. Bones."
Flipping the paper to make sure there was nothing on the reverse, he read the letter through twice more before folding it again and returning it to the envelope.
No, there hadn't been much in there. But what little there was told him plenty.
He'd been in her thoughts. She'd worried about him, afraid that a single phone call would give her news she didn't want to hear.
Why had she not mailed it? He'd slipped an address to her the day he'd left base to see her off at the airport. Her sign off implied that she planned to continue to write, but there was no address on the front of the envelope. For whatever reason, she'd decided to write to him but not actually mail the letters.
He tapped the envelope against his leg before finishing off the bottle of beer. They were a journal, he finally decided, rising to his feet to throw away the bottle and tuck the letter someplace safe. A journal of her time in Maluku.
How many letters would she let him see? And what sort of revelations might he find in them?
"Thank you for my gift," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. They rested together on a blanket, watching the fireworks explode over their heads.
The party had been perfect. Angela and Jack definitely knew how to keep everyone entertained and well fed. A fireworks show to rival any of those in the city capped off what had been an enjoyable day.
"You're welcome," she said. Turning to look toward him, she saw fireworks reflected in his eyes. As they flashed and disappeared, darkness settled around them. "I don't know how many I'll show you. Or how many you'll actually want to see. You'll soon find they are quite boring."
"I doubt that," he disagreed. Over her head, a shower of gold appeared as the next firework exploded. "I take as many as you want to send me. Whatever you're comfortable with, Bones. No pressure."
"I know." She rested her head against his shoulder, relaxing into him.
More fireworks exploded and as the colors appeared, Brennan explained to him what chemical reaction created each one. He didn't understand most of it, but was happy to just listen to her voice.
How many times had he dreamed of a moment just like this one? The two of them, together as a couple, happily spending time together.
In his head, he had their next moment planned. He'd spent days thinking about it, hoping he wasn't making a mistake. Despite the risk, slight though it probably was, he'd decided after reading her letter to go for it.
"I need you to come to my place the night after next. Wear something pretty, like a dress or something." He kept his eyes on the fireworks, not daring to look down at her and give something away.
"Another date plan?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said.
She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but had the impression he didn't want to answer them. "Okay. I can do that. I look forward to what you have planned."
That settled, they watched the remainder of the show in comfortable silence, enjoying the easy peace with each other that they'd fought so hard to find.