Happy Christmas (War Is Over) by Starlet2367

Summary: Brennan finds family.

Spoilers: The Man In The Fallout Shelter, Season One.

Notes: This is unbeta'd, so any butts hanging out here are my own. ;)

Temperance ran her fingers over the card, tracing her father’s angular writing, the only new thing she’d gotten from him in 13 years. That it wasn’t actually new grated on her; she could have opened these presents any time. She was strong, logical. Opening them...well, she just shouldn’t have waited this long.

She studied the pile of gifts on the table, remembering clearly the Christmas wish list she’d made, which included the full names, prices, catalog page numbers and phone numbers of the stores where they could be purchased. She’d looked it all up in those weeks before Christmas, getting into the spirit, not believing in Santa, of course, because he was just a societal myth perpetuated by parents to initiate children into the concept of mystery.

But she’d loved the excitement of asking for something and wondering what she’d get under the tree, all the same.

They’d gotten her the battery-operated, high-powered microscope she’d asked for, the one with adjustable eyepieces, a rotating viewing head and a fully adjustable inter-pupillary distance. It had been huge step up from the microscope she’d had, which had been handed down from Russ, and had a cracked lens.

She’d planned on using it to research her science project, which she’d tentatively titled, “The Effect of Sequential Cold Shocks on Survival and Molting Rate in Triatoma infestans,” and which she’d planned on tying into her junior trip to Rio de Janeiro.

Then her parents disappeared and, well, foster care was more about garbage bags than microscopes.

Of course, now she used the microscopic infrared technology, plasma mass spectrometry and electron microscopy. And she left the bugs to Hodgins.

She sighed, looking down at the carefully folded wrapping paper on the table, and the stack of gifts. The microscope, the field kit for camping, the polar fleece jacket that could be folded to fit in a corner of her backpack. She stroked the fleece, felt the soft rush of fabric under her fingers then, on impulse, pulled it on over her shirt. It stretched to fit—she’d grown since then—but it still worked.

And Russ—would he still fit? Would he still work?

She swallowed hard, thinking about what she’d done and said during their last Christmas together. He hadn’t been enough family for her then, not when she wanted her parents so badly she would have given up her microscope, her scholarship to Berkeley, anything, just to have them back.

But now, he was all the family she had left.

"You could call him," she said to herself. She could almost hear Angela saying it, "Call him, sweetie. Wouldn’t you want him to call you?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I would."

She rose and went to her computer. Finding Ivy had taken patience, but she’d done it. And all she’d had was a name and a former employer. But Russ...she’d kept track of him, even though it had been in a general way. It had been important, she told herself, to keep track of her clan, for genealogical purposes, if nothing else.

Russ was a marketing analyst in New York City. She Googled his name and found his listing. Before she could overthink it, she dialed his number. Glanced at her watch--4:30 on Christmas Day. Surely he’d be home.

"Hello?" It was a woman’s voice. In the background, children shrieking.

Temperance winced at the noise. "I’m looking for Russ Brennan. Is he available?"

"Just a minute." Then, like an afterthought, "Could I say who’s calling?"

Her stomach tightened. "Temperance Brennan." His sister, she thought, but she didn’t say it. There was a pause. Temperance’s hand tightened on the phone.

"Tempie?" It was her brother’s voice, sounding hesitant and oh, so familiar.

She sucked in a breath. "Russ?"

"Tempie?"

She felt odd, like something was bubbling inside her, like her entire body got dunked in the spiked egg nog. "You said that already."

He laughed. "Oh, my God. It really is you."

"Yes, and I said that, too. I called because—"

"Where are you?" He made it sound urgent, which made the bubbles even worse. "Are you okay? Is everything--"

"Everything is fi--"

"I just--I can’t believe you called. After all this time." He laughed. "What-- No, don’t tell me. I don’t think I want to--"

She wasn’t sure what to tell him but it didn’t seem to matter because the words were coming out anyway. "It was Lionel Little. Careful Lionel and Ivy. He was murdered and I found her for him. Because it’s Christmas--" Tears leaked down her face and she wiped them away, but now she was laughing, too.

"What? Lionel and-- Who?" He laughed again. "God, Tempie, it’s good to hear your voice. I saw you in the paper a couple of months ago. On that cannibal case? I nearly called you but...."

"You weren’t sure I wanted to hear from you." The bubbles all popped and left her feeling sad and deflated. She remembered sitting next to him on the couch eating Cheeto’s and watching MST3K. "I’m sorry, Russ. The way I treated you that last Christmas. I just wanted you to know—" She swallowed, trying not to cry for real. "I just wanted you to know that you were always enough family for me."

On the other end of the phone, everything was silent.

"Russ?" She sniffled, wishing she had a Kleenex.

"Oh, Temperance." His voice was rough. "I should have been there for you. But I couldn’t stand it--without mom and dad.... I was only nineteen. I didn’t know how to be a father."

The kids in the background war-whooped.

"But you know how to be a father now?"

He sighed. "Well, I’m doing it. Whether or not I’m good at it is another story entirely."

She smiled. "I’ll bet you’re great at it."

"Hey, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Got a husband? Kids?"

She looked down at her ringless hand. "Nope."

"But you’ve got friends you’re with today, right? You’re not alone on Christmas, are you?" His
voice pitched upward.

Her chest tightened. "No, I was with...friends. And-- I have an invitation to meet someone for dinner. I’m not alone, Russ. I’m okay." She swallowed. "Really. I have my work and--"

He sighed. "But you’ll come up and see me, right? Or I can come see you? Or is it too soon to ask?"

She shook her head. "No, I’d like to see you. I--um, I opened the presents. You know, the ones mom and dad got me before they...."

"You had them all this time?"

"I kept them. Everywhere I went. I wasn’t sure why except I just couldn’t-- Anyway. They got me the microscope I asked for. You remember?"

He laughed. "I do. Because you’d been using mine with the broken eye thingie--"

"Lens."

"Yeah, that. God, was that totally freaky, opening them?"

She shrugged. "At first. But then...was a little bit like having them back. For a minute. It felt...nice. Good. Like I was home, I guess."

He blew out a breath. "God, I think I’m going to blubber like a baby-man."

"I don’t know what that means."

"Blubber like a baby-man? My God, you are still totally clueless."

She huffed. "Why do people keep saying that?" Then she laughed. "Oh, Russ. I’ve missed you."

"You too, kiddo. Hey. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you look at coming up here next weekend for New Year’s? We’ve got an extra futon. I’d even move the skis off of it for you."

Her chest loosened, warmed. "That could be good. I’ll look into it, okay?"

"Okay. Didn’t you have a dinner date?"

She glanced at her watch. "Yeah. I should probably be going." It was hard to hang up, though. She wanted to stay on the phone with him all night, just so she didn’t have to let him go again. It was completely illogical. She was probably going to see him next week, but--

"Okay, well, I’ll just hang up now," he said.

She smiled. "Okay, me too."

"Okay, on three. One--"

"Two--"

"I love you, Tempie."

"I love you, too, Russ."

"Three." They said it together and before she could stop herself, she hung up. Put the phone down in its cradle and sat looking at it.

Then she stripped off the fleece, folded it and put it with the other gifts, and slipped on her coat. As she was locking the door, she thought about Booth, waiting for her at Wong Fu’s. Maybe she’d stop on the way and pick up a card for him.

After all, it was Christmas.

End.

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