Fic: Safe Harbor (Double Drabble #11)

Booth looks in the mirror to make sure he hasn't missed a spot and has a sudden sense of déjà vu; time falls away and it is his father staring back at him–his mouth, his sad eyes. The realization forces him back several steps. He sits down on the edge of the tub and closes his eyes, remembering when his father taught him to shave. Minutes later, the door opens. No knock, no greeting. Just the rustle of clothing as she enters.

“Booth?”

When he doesn't answer, she sits next to him and rests her hand on his thigh. The years of disappointment and difference are ashes in his mouth, and he is choking. If his breath hitches in his throat or his shoulders shake, she doesn't mention it. The pressure of her hand gives him a place to return, even as memory and grief lead him far away.

For just a while longer, he wants to hold tight to the image of his father laughing and patting shaving cream on his face; he keeps his eyes closed. He isn't ready to open them just yet and see his father in his face...or his father in his coffin.