Bones does not belong to me, neither do the characters: that said, hope you enjoy it
It was cold, but that was to be expected when Temperance Brennan was wearing only a thin zip up and sweat pants in 20-degree weather. She didn't mind though, the cold helped to distract her from the burning sensation of her leg muscles as she ran up her seventh hill towards the gym that was located five miles from her apartment. She always ran to it on her afternoons off when she had the time to run there, which took around forty minutes, and to do her workout at the gym that ran between an hour and three depending on how she was feeling. The burning sensation relinquished it's grasp on her legs as the ground leveled off allowing her to slow down to a fast pace as she came in front of the doorway to the gym. White mist protruded from her mouth in gasps as she quickly entered the building and pulled out her membership card to show to the clerk situated in the front of the room. With barely a glance at the piece of plastic, the clerk nodded her head to let her through into a piece of heaven formally known as a boxing area.
The punching bag lay abandoned to the side of the room, each squeak that the chains made from the bag swinging felt like a calling saying, "Temp." With a quick flick of the wrist, Brennan's flew over and landed on the edge of the bench situated along one of the walls of the gym, after removing her and a swift yank of her pants, which had buttons up the side to allow for easy removal, she was ready for action in her black tank top and shorts. After wrapping her hands was some protective tape, she stepped up in front of the oversized bag hanging limply in front of her. Without a second's deliberation, the sound of fists colliding with plastic echoed across the room. Temperance loved that sound, she loved the release it provided. As flashes of a past life erupted in front of her eyes, she pushed them away with each sharp punch to the bag. With her warm up over, her speed increased along with her strength, the bag began to swing violently. A few kicks here and there only provided more leverage for release. As she continued she began to go through a routine of actual boxing, with ducks, fakes, dodges, sharp punches and uppercuts. Breaths began to escape in pants, chest heaving and warmth spreading from the heated knuckles to the tips of the toes. As though in a trance, the ferocity of the attacks only increased, the bag swinging to new heights and with each new pounding, the chain let out a ferocious squeal, out of excitement or pain no one could tell. The onslaught continued, that is until suddenly the bag gave out an unceremonious "crack" the chain giving way under the constant swinging. The bag suspended for a moment in air, then quickly as it came is went into free fall only to be stopped by the carpeted floor of the gym.
"My god Temperance, not again this will be the fourth time I have to fix that damn thing because of your craze for female domination and independence" the voice floated from the other side of the room as the snap of a door banged against a wall. Temperance had never met such an aggravating man, well maybe not as bad as Booth, but they were pretty damn close.
"Jason, you know maybe if you actually made some money in this dump you would be able to afford an actual bag that didn't quiver in fear of being punched." Her words were interrupted from the short gasps of her recent workout, yet the meaning was still made clear.
The blond muscular gym owner stepped up in front of the dazzling doctor only to be in ownership of a smirk spreading across his flawless face. God, I bet he can get with any woman he wants; too bad he plays for the other side.
"You know Temperance maybe if you weren't so grumpy all the time the bag wouldn't feel the need to combust on you all the time." His words were barely comprehended before Temperance dove at him shoving him on the floor with a smile gracing her lips. The two began to wrestle playfully before all of a sudden Jason was ripped from her grip, glancing up she barely had the chance to yell "BOOTH" before a fist made contact with someone's face.