I do not own Bones, or the Fire and Ice Ball or Valentine's Day!
You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow
--Amy Lowell
"You have got to be the only single woman I know who doesn't hate Valentine's Day" Angela tried to understand her boss's undying love for a holiday that she herself would not be able to enjoy this year. She wouldn't be enjoying this particular day of love because she was still licking her wounds after an amicable but still painful break up with Wendell.
Camille Saroyan looked beautiful as always in a bright red sweater and black pencil skirt. She was dressed for the season and that annoyed the beautiful artist in residence even more than Cam's cheerful attitude towards the day itself. They sat at the platform table together examining crime scene photos. Angela drew, Cam took notes and Brennan examined the remains of an eighteen year old girl nearby. The moment was entirely out of character for all of them. They tended to keep in their own personal space, only coming together when a case required it.
But for some reason, today was different. Angela secretly suspected that Cam and Brennan sensed her desperate need for "post break-up company" and had arranged their work space accordingly.
Cam tried again to explain her love for the holiday over glossy pictures of melted flesh. "Ever since my first secret admirer in second grade, I've always felt like… even if I'm not with someone.... there's always the possibility of someone." She shrugged, "And to me that's worth celebrating." Her face turned wistful and Angela couldn't help smiling a little.
"I am also not opposed to this Valentine's Day," Brennan added. "I have some distinctly pleasant memories associated with this holiday." Angela heard Booth walking by the platform on his way out the door.
"Hey Booth. Are you riding with us to the thing tonight?" Angela grinned over the railing at him. The Fire and Ice Ball was an annual benefit for the Jeffersonian. Angela loved to go when she was in a relationship. Everyone dressed up in bright red or ice blue and drank and danced and gambled. But this year, they were all going as a group, and no one was bringing a date. That was the deal. And just that quickly, the entire event had lost its appeal.
"I'm going with Perotta. I'll see you there though. You squints save me a dance" Booth said over his shoulder.
Angela and Cam exchanged a surprised glance and then cautiously slid their eyes up to Dr. Brennan. A charred bone clutched in one gloved hand, she stared at the place where her partner had just been. She looked momentarily lost. Forlorn and childlike. If they hadn't both witnessed that moment, it would've been as though it never happened because Brennan quickly leaned back down over the body and continued her work without a word. Cam and Angela looked back at each other and rolled their eyes in unison. She seemed heartless to them, knowing what they did about Booth's feelings for her. How could she not care that he was moving on? It was impossible that she was indifferent to him.
"Well I guess I'm the only one who's not looking forward to tomorrow then." Angela returned irritably to her previous subject. They worked together on the platform for three more hours, trading stories about their best and worst Valentine's Days. Cam's best was the 2nd grade secret admirer. She had yet to discover who left the flower and homemade valentine on her desk at school. Her worst was the day she found Michelle's dad in bed with another woman.
Angela's worst was in high school. Her date to the Valentines Day Dance got drunk and threw up in her mouth as they were making out on the dance floor.
"I had the best sexual intercourse of my entire life on February 14th, 2000 on the beach in Tahiti," Brennan contributed honestly, much to the chagrin of Dr. Hodgins who happened to join them at that exact moment.
"Wow! Thanks for that." He said sarcastically.
"You are welcome" Brennan replied "We were just sharing our best and worst Valentine's Days" His eyes doubled in size as he glared desperately at Angela.
"No way Angie you didn't!" he protested "That was NOT for public knowledge. I can't believe you…"
"Jack!" she interrupted "I didn't." He watched her suspiciously for a moment before he relaxed.
"Angela told us a fascinating story about a high school dance and a mouth full of vomit." Cam grinned at him. "Of course now we won't rest until we discover what has you so worked up." She didn't take her sharp eyes from his bright red face for a long moment. Angela began to convulse in silent laughter.
"She is serious Dr. Hodgins" Brennan explained helpfully "She enjoys these sorts of embarrassing anecdotes. I would humor her if I were you. She is your superior after all."
Angela could not stop laughing, little unladylike snorts escaped from underneath the hands that were covering her mouth.
"I absolutely refuse to tell this story" he said as he walked quickly from the platform. Cam jumped out of her chair to follow him.
"I've decided not to attend tonight's function." Brennan said quietly as she worked.
"Excuse me?!" This was completely unacceptable if not wholly unexpected.
"I believe I will stay here and work the case. This young woman has parents out there somewhere who don't know where she is." The sympathetic victim card. Usually that particular excuse was quite successful, but not tonight.
"And it has nothing to do with the fact that Booth has a date?" Angela asked.
"No," Brennan responded as though the idea had never occurred to her.
"You will not ruin this night for me Brennan. I love the Fire and Ice Ball and you promised that it would be fun this year because we would all be going in a group and no one would have dates. And now you're backing out on me." She stopped only long enough to take a breath. "I have to spend the night avoiding Wendell and lusting after Hodgins and spying on Booth's date all by myself! I don't think so. No way."
"Perhaps you should simply stay at the lab and work the case with me. Then neither of us would need to attend."
"I bought my dress, I got my nails done, I am going to this damn ball Brennan and you are coming with me." She finished, stomping one foot for effect.
"I would prefer not to go." She hated hearing the hurt in her voice .
"Look, sweetie, I know it's hard for you go see Booth with someone else. I'm not blind."
"That is not true." She protested.
"You don't think I know you by now?"
"I am glad that Booth is interested in pursuing a relationship with a woman. He has been spending far too much time at work. His social life has been severely restricted as of late."
"That is very generous of you Brennan but it's a load of bull." She stood, hands on hips and prepared to go in for the kill.
"The only reason that Booth is going with Perotta is because he believes that you are not interested. Now you and I both know that isn't the case. So I think that the best thing to do. The most adult, rational, practical thing to do… Would be to dress to kill, and make him eat his heart out all night long."
"If I were going to kill someone Angela, I would wear gloves and clothes made out of highly flammable material; I hardly think that would be appropriate for a ball." Angela rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Moreover, Booth has shared with me that he has no interest in eating human heart, though I find the prospect interesting from a purely scientific perspective. And of course he couldn't possibly eat his own heart…"
"What I mean is…" she interrupted, "You should look amazing, sexy, confident… he can't keep his eyes off you when you put on a dress Brennan. He'll ditch his date and end up going home with you or I owe you fifty bucks.
"That sounds like an incredibly simple bet for me to win."
"You have to try or I won't pay up."
"What do you mean by try?" Brennan asked suspiciously.
"I mean we leave right now, you let me dress you up and you allow yourself to be open to the possibilities. Just let things happen. Don't avoid him, don't play games, just be you and let Booth be Booth and I will win my bet."
"That sounds fair. I did have to get ready anyways, I'd be grateful for your assistance." She smiled and Angela glanced at her watch. 3:00pm. She had four hours to turn this grubby squint into Cinderella.
