saffiremoon21

 "What, didn't you ever want to be an astronaut when you were a kid?" She stares at him with an expression he's come to understand means that they're not quite on the same page. "No, not really.  I was always more interested in living things.  I guess I was a little too grounded to want to go wandering in space." She grins at him and Booth laughs, partly at the joke, but mostly because she looks so proud of herself.  Brennan feels she has a right to be proud; she's gotten better at conversing, better enough that she can now sense that she is supposed to say something at this point in order to keep the conversation going. And so she asks,

She knows when it comes because she sees his sketchbook lying about.  He makes no effort to hide it, and she supposes she should be grateful that he's not keeping secrets from her, or at least not anymore.  But it's hard to feel anything other than pain when she knows how much it distresses him. -- They both knew that their new lives together would not be easy.  Although he was part human, in many ways he was still very Time Lord and living life in order did not always suit him.  And for her, well, she loved him dearly but when had living with the Doctor ever been easy? During her time on the Tardis, she'd never seen him draw but when he s

He'd taken her to palaces, fantastic cities.  He'd taken her to meet the Queen, the Face of Boe. She was taking him ice skating. He was nine hundred and three years old and he'd never been ice skating before. "Never had a reason to," he told her, smiling. She hadn't skated for years, but being able to introduce him to something new, when it was so very often the other way around, was irresistible. So they were here, at an admittedly rather diminutive pond turned neighborhood ice rink. The TARDIS's impressive and inscrutable wardrobe had yielded up seven pairs of ice skates, and out of the pile, they'd been each able to find a pair that

     In the morning when I wake up, I look at the sky.  The weather is a sort of barometer for how my day will go.  This morning, the sky is overcast, like that summer day, some three years ago when I naught but a child of sixteen, dawned ominously gray.  That day, I had resigned myself to boredom.     However, my mother needed to go shopping, and I welcomed this opportunity to tag along and get out of the house.  Once we arrived at Kmart, I wandered off to go stare dreamily at things, as I am prone to do.  I do enjoy shopping, a trait I do not share with my mother.  She views buying things as a goal:  you want this, you get it, you leave.