Stronger
Brennan and Booth have different reactions to the Howard Epps case. As distance begins to creep into their relationship Brennan ends up in the arms of a bad boy. Begins after 'Man in the Cell' and goes off in its own crazy direction. B&B as always.
Chapter 1 – One enchanted evening?
This is different that anything else I've written, mainly cause it's in the first person, which is something I've always wanted to try, so we'll see how it goes.
--
"Brennan." I say, snatching my phone off the desk the second it rings. I am so sure of the caller that I don't check the ID. I should have. It's only my editor. I tersely explain that this is not a good time and quickly end the call.
I stare at the clock on the monitor willing it to change for the thousandth time in the last hour. The clock stares back, unchanging and unblinking. Stupid clock. I usually admire the clear digital numbers, leaving no question as to what time it could be. Much more practical than the clocks with their minute hands leaving room for error about the exact time. Today however, the unforgiving clock is my enemy. Almost two hours ago the alarms at our lab at the Jeffersonian were triggered, leading to a full lockdown of the lab. Again. The alarm that had been triggered was on the platform, but no one was working on it at the time and there are no remains or bones anywhere near it.
Come on people, it's a false alarm!The clock changes from 8:59 pm to 9:00 pm. I pull up the menu on the desktop and remove the clock from the display with a small amount of satisfaction.
It hasn't even been a week since the incident with Howard Epps and Cam's continued absence from the lab as she recovers is reminder enough of the biological dangers that face us everyday. But still, they told us half and hour ago that all the tests had come back clean. How long does it take to recalibrate the system?
I look over at Angela, who is sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, Zach having fallen asleep on the couch after learning the test results. It was almost seven on a Friday night and Angela and Zach were the only other two left in the lab when the alarms went off. I guess this is what we get for working late on a Friday, not that I have anything else to do. I feel rather chagrined at the thought.
"I know sweetie, I love you too. See you soon." Angela says as she finally hangs up the phone.
She spent the entire duration of our time on lockdown on the phone with Hodgins. It's obvious that she is still upset from everything that's happened and I don't blame her, but I find I have little compassion left tonight. I've just listened to one side of a two-hour phone conversation filled with sickeningly sweet declarations of love, bouts of insecurity and occasional teary interludes. A headache is starting to form somewhere at the back of my neck.
"Jack says ten more minutes and we are outta here!" Angela declares jumping up from the chair and throwing her arms up in triumph.
"That's great!" I say, excited at the prospect of finally being free from our unnecessary incarceration.
"He was so sweet to stay on the phone with me the whole time, don't you think?" Angela gushes, not leaving enough time for me to actually reply before she continues. "When we get home tonight I am so gonna –"
"Angela!" I yell cutting her off before she can continue. I really do not want to hear what she has planned for Dr. Hodgins' reward.
I am happy for my best friend. I really am. And I've never see her so happy before. She really does light up when he is around. It's just like all the clichés about love I've read about. I am happy for her; it's just that sometimes, especially in times like these and especially lately, it just makes me feel … well lonely, I guess. I turn my attention back to Angela who had apparently continued to speak even after I stopped listening.
"Booth's out there." Angela says. My head snaps up. She definitely has my attention now.
"What is he doing here?" I ask my voice a little more demanding than I mean it to be. Angela eyes me questioningly. "I mean, I didn't call him. I'm not sure how he would have found out about this."
"I don't know, but he is waiting out there. And knowing how Booth is when you're in trouble, he is probably not waiting patiently." Angela says. She pulls her chair around to my side of the desk and glances at Zach, who is still sleeping, before she speaks again.
"How is he doing? I've hardly seen him since…" Her voice trails off. I swallow hard trying to keep the lump from rising in my throat. The lump that makes it hard to breathe anytime I think of Howard Epps and of the things he done and almost done to my friends and coworkers. To what he has done to my partner. To our relationship.
I rub my neck, trying to ease the tension as I debate how much to tell Angela. Not that there is that much to tell, really. I have only spoken to Booth three times since the night Epps died. The first time being at the carousel with his son the next morning. Shaking my head, I force myself to stop. That particular conversation has been replayed enough times in my head already.
"I don't really know," I answer honestly. "He doesn't say very much to me."
"Oh." Angela replies delicately.
The truth is that I am worried about Booth. The way he was after Epps death, sitting at my table, looking so defeated and lost. Two qualities I've never associated with him before.
I tried to comfort him. To reassure him that Epps death was for the best. I even went to look for him the next morning, but obviously I didn't do it right or, most likely, I wasn't the right person for the job. Which actually makes me feel bad. He has always been there whenever I need someone. Like when I found out what happened to my mother or after I killed Epps' accomplice. All this has left me wondering if maybe Epps hadn't gotten the better of us after all. Sure a monster is dead and he can never kill again, but he took something from every member of my team.
Maybe Booth is right. Maybe we have gotten too close. He feels responsible for what happened to Cam, but ultimately it was my fault. Epps told me that. He knew that going after everyone I work with was like going after my family. I made it far too easy for my friends, and even Cam, to become targets.
A great whoosh of air followed by the metallic clicking of the doors unlocking tell us that the quarantine is over. Zach sits up quickly, a deep crease in his face from the couch cushion.
"Come on Zach," I say motioning for the door. "We are free to go." He pats down his hair, which is still very short. Truthfully, his new haircut makes him look even younger than before, but I don't tell him that. I figure it will grow out.
Rounding the corner of the lab, we see Angela jump straight into Hodgins' outstretched arms. He stumbles back a bit as he tries not to drop her. Zack laughs softly behind me and then walks off towards his office.
Booth appears suddenly in the hall before me. He stops when he sees me and I see a little grin cross his face. I feel a reciprocating smile move across my own face. I take a step towards him, fully intending to take comfort in his embrace, albeit in a much less exuberant way than Angela. When his arms are wrapped around me I always feel a bit better, a bit safer; even though afterwards I always regret whatever moment of weakness allowed the contact in the first place.
It's at this point that I falter in my hug mission and stop awkwardly before him. We can't be doing this anymore. Not even any man hugs. Those are the new rules. I suddenly feel drained of all energy.
"Hey," I say finally. "What are you doing here?"
He shifts back and forth on his feet and I can tell that he is slightly uneasy as well. "I heard there was a situation here and I wanted to make sure that you," Booth stops and clears his throat before continuing, "that everything is alright."
I am a little suspicious how he had found out about a low level biological scare at the Jeffersonian on a Friday night, but I let it go.
"It was a false alarm." I explain. "Something was wrong with the sensors so they recalibrated the system. I'm not really sure why they kept us in there so long after the tests came back clean. I will be speaking to someone about that on Monday." I stop, aware that I am talking too much and too quickly.
I am nervous. I'm sure it was painfully obvious that I had been heading right into his arms before I managed to restrain myself. He made it clear that there were no romantic possibilities between the two of us and I don't want him to think I feel any differently.
Because I don't.
"Ok." He says studying my face carefully, probably trying to figure out if I am crazy. I am beginning to think that it is a valid question. I finally break the stare; his dark eyes are too intense for me tonight.
"Are you leaving?" He asks gesturing at the coat in my arms. I nod and slip it on. "I'll walk you to your car." Booth puts his hand on my back as we start to walk. It is a simple gesture, one that's happened countless times before, but now when I feel his hand I flinch. My face flushes and I feel his hand quickly pull away.
"Sorry," He whispers next to me. His breath on my ear sends a shiver through me that I try to suppress. Sometimes he has that effect on me when we are close.
"It's fine, I'm just tired." I say lamely.
Booth accepts the explanation in silence. Damn! Why did I have to flinch? I groan inwardly at the irony of the situation. Booth finally offers the contact I have been secretly craving and I pull away. Way to go Temperance.
We walk in continued silence until we reached my car. I unlocked the door and throw my purse onto the passenger seat before I turn to face him. "Thank you for coming to check on us." I say giving him what I hope is a charming smile.
"Yeah, well somebody's got to keep an eye on you squints."
I roll my eyes at him, happy to hear the teasing tone in his voice. But then his expression turns serious and I wait for him to speak again. He starts to, but stops and gives me a look that I have no idea how to interpret.
"Goodnight Temperance," He says softly before he turns and walks towards his truck.
I exhale, unaware that I have been holding my breath. As I watch him walk away, noting that he cuts a handsome figure in the dim light, I am temped to call after him. To offer pie and coffee at the diner. I wait for him to look back, but he doesn't. Not until he is backing out of his parking space, at which point I realize I am still standing in the same place staring after him. In a rush of embarrassment, I jump into my car and start the engine, racing away in the opposite direction from Booth.
What the hell am I doing? One minute I am convinced that Booth and I need some distance in our relationship and the next minute I am practically flirting with him. He is right. We probably should maintain some sort of distance between us. I just didn't realize it would be so hard. It would be much easier if he wasn't such a great guy. With the way he worries about me and how he is always trying to take care of people. And the way he tries to use his charm smile to get something he really wants.
Anyway, turning into my usual parking space I put the car into park, but I don't turn off the engine. The thought of walking into my big, dark and empty apartment seems utterly depressing. Wistfully I imagine having a little pig named Jasper to come home to, or failing that, at least a man.
It's Friday night, I realize finally understanding the social implications of the day and time. I'm a single woman and it's Friday night. What am I supposed to do?
A club sweetie. Find a club or a bar.
Angela's voice seems to fill the car and I realize her ghostly instructions are correct. Perhaps some alcohol and company can help stave away the blues. That's what normal people do, right?
The only problem with this plan is that I don't feel like going to any of the clubs or bars I have been to with Angela. They all involve bright lights and really loud music, usually with large amounts of bass. I turn down Garver Street, away from the club I was parked outside of. Several minutes down the road I spot a small brick building whose windows are filled with neon beer signs. Mularkey's is illuminated in green across the top of the building, accentuated with a Shamrock for the apostrophe. I smile at the name. An Irish bar seems exactly like what I am looking for.
Walking towards the door I can't help but notice that my Mercedes seems out of place among the motorcycles, trucks and classic cars in the parking lot.
"What do ya want?" The bartender asks as I sit down. It's a good question. A quick glance of the establishments' clientele tells me I probably shouldn't order wine. I think of the advice Booth gave me once about a bottle of hard liquor and a bartender named Shaky.
"Scotch." I say blurting out the first liquor that comes to mind.
"Ya want that neat or on the rocks?" He asks over his shoulder as he selects a bottle from the impressive display behind him. I have no idea what he means. Is it some sort of brand? He looks at me questioningly.
"Neat." I answer quickly. When given a choice between something neat and something on the rocks, I will almost always choose neat. Sighing, I realize that maybe that is my problem.
--
The first glass of scotch does nothing for me and I motion to the bartender for another. I have been sitting alone at the bar for almost a half and hour and I feel no better. One man attempted to talk to me, but despite the fact I don't know what I am looking for right now, I am pretty sure it isn't him. This outing is not exactly what I thought it would be.
The door opens and a noisy group enters, grabbing my attention. When I turn, I look straight into the eyes of a tall man who had evidently been looking at me. His lip curls up into either a smile or a sneer, I am not sure which. Quickly, I shift my attention back to the now refilled glass of scotch in front of me. I know he is watching me and I feel a rush of heat pass through me, though I choose to attribute it to the alcohol instead of his attentions.
The group moves to a table just at the edge of my sight. I watch him seat himself at the back of the table, with disgust I also see a heavily made up yet scantily clad woman on either side of him. I turn away as the rest of his party fills in the table around him. It is obvious that this man was the leader of their little group.
He is good looking, slightly taller than Booth, but not quite as muscular. His hair is brown, but much lighter than Booth's, and his clothes are all black. I stop cataloging his looks when I realize that I am using Booth to size him up. Dropping my head into my hands, I am unsure of exactly when Booth became the guy that I compare all other men to.
No more thinking about him tonight! To help enforce that point, I sneak a quick look at the table in the corner. He is looking at me again. I can't help but give him a quick smile before I lower my gaze. Several minutes later a man walks up next to me and leans against the bar. "Buzz wants you to come sit with us."
I look up, startled at the sudden announcement. "What?"
The man nods his head in the direction of the table with the tall mystery man, who is watching us. "Let's go." He says in a tone that said that he personally isn't excited for me to join them.
I am stunned by the command to join him and I resent it. Part of me wants to stay where I am, to show him I won't just follows orders, but the other part is curious. Well, I rationalize as I walks toward his table, at least I can tell him to his face that he can't just stare at strange women and order them around. Their table is crowded and I stop unsure of where I should sit. He leans towards the woman on his right and whispers something into her ear. She hesitates for a second before getting up and moving to the other side of the table. Grasping my glass tightly, I sit stiffly in the now vacant chair next to him.
He takes his time before he speaks, his eyes slowly tracing my body down to my legs and then back up to my face. It's as if he is mentally undressing me as I sat here. I feel indignant and I make to stand up.
"Name's Buzz," He offers in a surprisingly deep and gravely voice.
"Temperance Brennan." I find myself answering, instead of getting up and walking away as I probably should be doing.
"Temperance," he repeats, "That's quite a name. Anything else I can call you?" His voice is so deep I have to concentrate hard to hear the words over the music.
'Bones' comes to mind immediately, but I don't volunteer that name. It belongs to someone else. "Tempe," I offer and he seems satisfied with this.
"Never seen you here before Tempe." I'm having a hard time hearing so I lean slightly towards him to hear what he says. As I do, the light shifts and I notice that his eyes are green, with a sparkle of something that I'll generously call mischievousness.
"It's my first time," I say. "Here. At Mularky's." I add hurriedly and then feel stupid. I thought it sounded like I'd said 'it's my first time drinking alone in a bar considering a one night stand with a mysterious guy dressed all in black,' but he probably didn't.
What are you, a teacher or a librarian or something?" One of the girls, and I do mean girl for she really doesn't look older than eighteen, next to Buzz asks with a smirk. I follow her eye line and look down at my clothes and realize that next to the other women at the table I probably do look like a librarian.
"No," I answer slowly. "I work in a museum." At my apparently boring answer the girl looses interest and turns to talk to the guy next to her.
"You look fine to me," Buzz says and this time I definitely feel myself blush. He gives me a crooked smile and then joins the others in conversation.
I take a big drink of my scotch. Why am I still sitting here? I really should be walking away. I know it. This man is rude, patriarchal, chauvinistic and his name represents a sound. Although he appears neat enough and I don't see any visible tattoos, his friends are a bit scruffier, and judging by the stories they are telling, live an interesting, and probably not entirely legal, life.
This time I decide that I should leave; my apparent fascination with Buzz notwithstanding. I stand up and as soon as I do he stand up also as if to follow me. I put my jacket on and head outside, trying not to look back. He doesn't speak until we are in the parking lot.
"You leaving?" He calls out. I stop and wait for him to catch up.
"Yes," I answer. "It's late."
"No it's not," he insists, laughing. "You want to go for a ride?"
I am a little shocked by the offer, though I guess that how these things work. I look back at the row of motorcycles and ask, "On one of those?"
He shakes his head, "Nah, I got my car tonight." He walks away seemingly unconcerned with whether or not I will follow. And for some reason that makes me want to follow him more.
Buzz walks towards a black car parked right at the front. Even I, who don't know very much about cars, can tell that this car is nice. It looks like it is from the seventies with big tires in the back, several shiny parts sticking up above the hood, and a silver SS on the front. I bet Booth would love this car, I think before I can stop myself. I force all thoughts of Booth out of my head, determined not to break my self imposed mandate.
He unlocks and opens the door for me, but doesn't wait for me to get inside before he goes around to the drivers side. The interior of the car is entirely black as well and smells of leather, cologne, and smoke.
I am learning that Buzz is a man of relatively few words. He has said exactly three to me since I have been in the car. "Just finished it." He says nodding towards the dashboard, presumably talking about his car.
"It's very nice," I reply, not really sure of the proper compliment for his car. He rolls down the window a bit and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it as he drives. I can't help but notice that I am completely out of my element.
We are heading towards a more industrial and less busy part of town, when the fact that the last guy I was with turned out to be a murder, pops in to my head. I try to ignore it. Try also to ignore the voice in my head that sounds suspiciously familiar, insisting that I should not be riding in the car of a man I barely know.
"It's ok." He says. "You seem nervous. It's ok." His confidence and deep voice seem oddly comforting.
We pull up at a red light and he peers past me out the window. I follow his gaze and see a car pull up next to us. It's smaller and painted a bright orange with it has neon everywhere. The driver seems to be communicating with Buzz.
"Hold on Tempe." He says to me with a devious smile. I barely have time to protest before I am pinned to the seat by gravity. We are racing down the road and Buzz is alternately laughing and swearing. I however, am braced for impact, grabbing the sides of the seat with my eyes squeezed shut, sure that I am living the last seconds of my life.
Several seconds pass and we haven't crashed. I slowly open my eyes and resume normal breathing. I see the orange car begin to fall behind and soon I could feel our car decelerate as well. Buzz lets out a whoop of joy that seems completely incongruous with his quiet demeanor. I laugh and join him, the adrenaline of the race leaving me exhilarated. I feel reckless.
There is something dangerous about being here with Buzz, I realize as I look over at him. There is something liberating as well. He doesn't know me. Doesn't know that I am Dr. Temperance Brennan, respected forensic anthropologist and best selling author who works with the FBI to solve murders. Maybe I like that. Maybe I need that. Maybe I need 'on the rocks' instead of 'neat.'
"I live near here. You want to come over?" He asks.
I smile at him and nod, unsure if I could actually form a coherent sentence right now.
--
I wake up later than I usually do. The sun has already risen and is streaming through the window where the curtains have pulled apart. Buzz is lying next to me, his back towards me. I don't feel as dirty as I feared I might after my first official 'get drunk and pick up a stranger in a bar one night stand.' I also don't feel as satisfied as I hoped I would either. Instead I feel kind of empty.
I roll over and study him from behind. There is a tattoo on the back of his neck that I didn't see last night. It is an intricate design done only in black and grey. The images of Booth's tattoos on his wrists come to mind. I've always wanted to ask him what they mean.
Carefully and quietly, I climb out of bed and dress. I am standing in the living room of Buzz's sparsely decorated, converted loft scrolling through the numbers on my phone looking for the cab company when I hear him behind me.
"I'll take you to your car," he says in a tone that doesn't leave much room for debate.
"Thanks," I reply awkwardly and follow him out the door.
Just like last night he has very little to say. My worries about awkward conversations begin to slip away. The vibrations and rumbles from the car's engine actually relax me, until we pull up in front of Malarky's, which actually looks rather run down in the daylight. My car is sitting alone in the deserted lot. I feel slightly uncomfortable, unsure how to explain to Buzz the $80,000 car that I drive.
"You shouldn't leave that car parked around here." He says as if reading my thoughts. "I had someone keep an eye on it last night."
I am tempted to ask what he means by that, but I open the door and climb out instead. I am trying to figure out what to say and if I should offer him my phone number when he leans across the seat, smiles at me, says, "See you later, Tempe," and pulls the door shut.
I climb, feeling shell-shocked, into my car and automatically start to drive home. My phone rings and I answer it, offering a wobbly, "Brennan."
"Where are you?" Angela asks, unusually awake and chipper sounding for eight thirty on a Saturday morning.
"I'm in the car, where are you?" I ask hoping to avoid the issue of where I have been.
"In front of your building. I brought breakfast and I was hoping we could talk." Angela says.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes," I tell her. She isn't the only one who needs to talk.
--
Please let me know what you thought, especially about the first person style and whether you think it is relatively 'in character.'
So this story isn't really going to have a case or anything. It will be relationship based. B&B mainly, of course! Angela and Brennan friendship as well. I promise there will be lots of Booth, but we haven't seen the last of Buzz….