Sniper

Hey! I don't know if it's because I'm on fire due to the intense flow of spoilers we have received lately or if it's because I have more time on my hands these days to focus on "artistic creations" lol... But I really feel inspired, as far as BB are concerned! It's fairly random, as it mostly concerns episodes that did not even air yet. Here it's Thursday's upcoming episode The Proof in the Pudding. I gotta admit that seeing the promo made me wonder if they would further the focus on one aspect of Booth's past that was left in the dark until now: his profession of Sniper. During this episode, he will apparently be the one "proving" that the JFK shooting was the result of an military operation, precisely because of his past training and experience. Or at least that's wishful thinking on my part and heavy extrapolation :D. I love snipers, I couldn't tell you why. Maybe like Bones I am aware of the protective maleness emanating from Booth but I cannot explain it with anything that wouldn't come right out of Darwin's Origin of Species :D. Anyway! Enough rambling, on with the story.

Disclaimer: Not mine, but rambling? All mine.

***************

She had never observed him when he was aiming his gun. Mostly because in the past, they had been in life threatening situations when it occurred. Why watching him when all that mattered was the result of his skillful mastering of weaponry, right? He could shoot straight and save their lives, that was the point. She felt safe with him and could thus focus on her own part of the job. There was no need to further the reflection, question the motives or the origin of this ability. It was there, it was helpful, not to say indispensable to the unfolding of their investigations.
But right then, securely wrapped in the cold architecture of the lab, she could focus on the man behind the gun. On this man she knew to be overly talkative, affable and active. It seemed she was watching him for the first time, after five long years of collaboration, of friendship. Or whatever their relationship might correspond to, following social standards. She was not quite sure about this one, but it did not matter. Not when she was under the uncomfortable impression that she was observing a perfect stranger.

His usually warm, reassuring gaze was as dark as death. His hands, so soothing when caressing her back in moments of doubt, were firmly grasping the rifle. The arm of justice. His hawk like profile made her reconsider the definition of "determination". He did seem determined, but this was not translated in the usual display of maleness that made her react as any other female would. This determination scared her. Mostly because it seemed his teeming, joyful mind had gone blank within the last few seconds. What could he be thinking of? There was no possibility for him to interrupt his stream-of-consciousness, so what could he focus his attention on, to look so frighteningly determined? The target? The timing? The mission? This was not even a mission, merely another experiment put together by Hodgins and unauthorized by Cam. So why this sudden immersion in the darkest corners of his soul?

Usually she would not bother interrupting him and ask the question. But his expression prevented her from making a single move. She was hardly a few feet away from him, but as irrational as it seemed, she could sense an invisible space enveloping him and separating him from her and the rest of the world. She tried to remember when was the last time she had seen him that silent, so entirely devoted to his task and she could not find any other examples than those numerous life threatening situations. So, this was what he looked like, when he was trying to protect her. Gone were the charm smile and the numerous facial expressions he would always save for her. This was what a professional sniper looked like.
Was he even breathing? Trying not to squint too hard, she focused on his chest and distinguished a subtle movement, up and down, up and down. She could not hear him. He was breathing without emitting a sound. Like a statue. A feline waiting for his prey. Suddenly her fear was replaced by an irrepressible desire. Back to the original female reaction to the aesthetic force of maleness. But more than protection, she acknowledged silently the fact that it triggered her senses on a more physical level. His successive shots successfully aimed at the center of the targets displayed on the lab platform did not make her deviate focus from him. She felt her own breathing become heavier and blushed from being so responsive to signals he had never meant to emit.

Unprepared, she saw him turning his attention to her with an amused smile. The cold, deadly determination was gone and her partner was back. But she knew that these seconds that felt like so many hours had irremediably changed her perception of him. Now she knew what he was trying to conceal and she wanted more. She wanted to know why, how and when. She wanted him to detail his process, his motivations. The anthropologist within thirsting for explanations that would help her mastering her typically instinctive repulsion and attraction to a dominant figure.
But his smile made all those questions fade away. He would never tell her. She had just witnessed something that was his and his alone. She suddenly understood why his whole personality seemed to contradict his past function. How this unmovable statue she observed could be her restless, sometimes boyish partner. He did not want her to know he had been as dead inside as all the skeletons she had laid on her examination table. He wanted life, and life alone. After years of trading with death he was determined not to let it penetrate his mind again.

- "See, there had to be a second sniper... I always sort of thought that this Oliver Stone movie was way over the top but now I'm... You okay Bones?"

Then she felt the urge to smile back... His charm smile was more charming than it had ever been, now that she knew why it was there.

- "I'm fine, Booth. I... now I understand. It's all perfectly clear."

She feared he would understand the double meaning of her words, he whose ability to read her was sometimes disconcerting. But he seemed too engrossed in his analysis to notice any understatement. For once, she was the one playing with words. Patting him on the shoulder, she enjoined him to share his insights with Hodgins. She felt lighter, closer to him than she had ever been. It was nice. Really nice.

The Ennnnnd!
Now, on a totally different note, I just came back from theater, I got to watch Invictus. And I am deeply convinced that Freeman will get the Golden Globe tonight. His depiction of Mandela is simply extraordinary. The pace, the voice, the gaze, the moves... It's all there. Hats off, seriously.