Chapter Three
He was a weak man.
Reclined at his new desk, feet propped up on the nearly empty wooden space, Booth sat immersed in a scientific journal, one of those very publications he had seen Bones with countless times. In fact, the reason he was so interested in that particular periodical was because the good doctor had an article published within its glossy, boring pages. Although he wasn't particularly fond of anthropology... or forensics, for that matter, he did – secretly - have a weakness for pretty brunettes who were. While Bones might not be his partner any longer, he still wanted to be her friend.
And only her friend.
He was almost positive.
In that spirit, for the past two days – ever since he'd successfully acquired his new job, he had been attempting – and failing – to reach the prickly PHD holder, but she wasn't answering her phone. Any of them, to be exact. Her home phone rang a dozen times before her machine picked, she was obviously screening her cell phone, and either his messages at the Jeffersonian were going undelivered or they were being ignored. While a part of Booth, the selfish part, hoped that Bones was simply busy with a case, he had a suspicion that she didn't particularly want to talk to him, and he couldn't blame her. He had quit, leaving her stranded without a partner, but, in his defense, he had warned her, confessing that he sometimes harbored thoughts of not returning from vacation, especially when he went alone.
A part of Booth wondered if he had shared that particular piece of personal information with his former partner because he had wanted her to volunteer to go with him. It made sense, especially considering the dreams he had experienced every single night of his ten day vacation. Now, despite the fact that he was pretty much on a permanent leave of absence from his past life, he still dreamt of her. No matter what he did, Bones was always on his mind. Instead of fighting her presence, he had decided to embrace it. Besides, there wasn't much of anything else for him to do while at work. He'd already taken a nap, and his deputy was off on a fruitless patrol. Two days in, and Booth already knew that nothing ever happened in Alligator Pond.
Pushing away his thoughts, he refocused upon the dry, fact drenched paragraph he had been trying to read for the past ten minutes. As the words flowed from the page, through his eyes, and into his brain, Booth could practically hear Bones' voice reading the information to him. While they might not have been partners for very long, she had still been an important part of his life for a couple of months. There was no bond quite like that which existed between two cops… or, in their case, one cop and a forensic anthropologist.
"I, at least, demand a phone call!"
Okay, those words were not on the page, so why exactly did he hear Bones yelling them?
"Girly, you're not in the U.S. anymore; this is Jamaica. If I want to stare at your pretty face all day long, then you'll stay here, so, if I were you, I'd be a little bit nicer."
Oh, no. That was definitely not the right thing to say to an angry Bones.
"You do realize that's sexual harassment."
His deputy remained silent, and Booth started to panic. Bones was there. Here. She was in Alligator Pond. And she had been arrested, apparently, by the man he employed. There was no way her appearance in the sleepy little fishing village was a coincidence. For one, he was there, and, two, there were no dead, decaying bodies… as far as he knew, and, if there were, then he sure as hell was in the wrong town to start his new peaceful lifestyle.
Allowing his chair to drop abruptly, Booth rushed to make himself look more presentable, to make himself appear busier than he actually was. Tossing aside the magazine he had been attempting to read, he pulled out some random file, opened it, and then remembered just what article he had been perusing and just who was about to be led into his office. Scrambling to shove the glossy periodical inside his desk where it couldn't be seen, he knew he was too late when he heard his former partner speak once more.
"What is that?"
He ignored her question, hoping to distract her by reminding her of her incarceration. "What did you do this time? You didn't shoot somebody again, did you?"
"Girly shot somebody before," his deputy asked rhetorically, sounding more impressed than frightened, whistling fondly. When Booth glared at him and Bones remained petulantly silent, the younger man straightened and attempted, rather unsuccessfully, to appear more professional. "I brought her in for reckless operation. The boys'll be lucky to catch anything this week with the way she was churning up the waters out there. She almost took out two different boats."
"See, this is why I never let you drive."
"No, you refused to allow me to drive because of your misguided chauvinistic attitude. You believe that just because you're a man, you can do certain things better than I can."
"I never said that, Bones."
"You implied your opinion quite clearly," she snapped, glowering darkly in his direction.
"Oh, I get it," his deputy remarked, and he literally sounded as if he had just been the recipient of a remarkably powerful brainstorm. "She's your baby mama."
Indignantly, Bones cried, "I am not. We never…." After several beats and a pointed glance from Booth, she admitted, "I don't know what that means. What's a baby mama?"
"It means exactly what it says, Bones – the mother of a baby."
"In this case, yours," she realized. Falling quiet for several moments, she regarded him closely. "Wait, does that mean you have a child."
"Okay, so you're definitely not his ex," Booth's deputy realized. "So, what, is she your current girlfriend?" Regarding his boss, he asked, "you didn't knock her up, too, right, because she doesn't seem like the maternal type… if you know what I mean."
"That I do know the meaning of, and, for your information, no, he did not… impregnate me." Visibly flinching at the very idea, his former partner refused to meet his gaze. Booth couldn't help but notice that she also blushed slightly. Although Bones would dismiss such a thing as a mere physical reaction to the Caribbean heat, he couldn't help but wonder…?
"And, furthermore, we're partners."
"Yeah, like I said, you're his girlfriend."
Bones huffed in frustration. "No, we work together. We are not, never have been, nor will we ever be sexually involved with one another."
His deputy smirked. "I'm sensing a lot of denial."
Before the situation could get any more out of hand, Booth decided to make introductions. "Tom, this is Doctor Temperance Brennan."
"Oh, so she's the lady you're always reading about in those stuffy magazines?"
This time it was his turn to glance away and flush in embarrassment.
"You've been reading my articles, Booth," his former partner asked, sounding both slightly impressed and touched. To think that all it would take to impress her was to confuse himself on a bunch of anthropology mumbu-jumbo…. "Wait," she protested his answering of her own question, saving him from having to reply. "More importantly, you have a child?"
"Yeah, he has a little boy," his employee answered for him, nodding towards the picture Booth kept on his desk. "Parker – he's four. Real cute kid – smart, too. I talked to him on the phone the other day while Booth was taking a leak."
"Tom, please," he beseeched his deputy.
"Right, sorry boss. Anyway, now that I think it about, you couldn't be his baby mama, because the kid's blonde, and you're definitely not."
"I'm impressed," Bones dryly mocked. Tom grinned, believing she was actually giving him a compliment until she continued talking. "Rude, sexist, and observant – wherever did you find such an world-class staff, Booth?"
Again, he ignored her. "Release her," he instructed, and Tom dutifully followed his instructions, thankfully remaining silent as he did so. Perhaps, after being stung by Bones' venomous tongue, he would continue to exclude himself from the conversation. "What are you doing here? I already know it's not for a very much needed vacation. There's no skeleton here for you to play with."
"Ew, you have a thing for dead people. Booth, you never told me your old partner was such a freak."
"Tom." This time, his voice left no room for arguing, and, without comment, his deputy backed out of the small office, his hands in the air as if being forced to leave by gunpoint. Perhaps Booth should have attempted such a removal five minutes earlier.
Refocusing his attention upon Bones, he pressed, "I'm still waiting for an answer."
"I would think my presence here would be obvious."
"Well, for shits and giggles, why don't you spell it out for me anyway."
Squaring her shoulders, she simply stated, "you refused to come back, so I'm here to take you back."
"You and what army?"
"I won't need to use force, Booth. Common sense will prevail."
"You want common sense," he offered her. "Fine." Finally standing up, he leaned forward against his desk, locking their gazes together unflinchingly. "Since I was eighteen years old, I've dealt with death on a daily basis. I'm sick of it. No matter how many cases I solve, there's always another one, one more gruesome and twisted than the last. I've put my time in, I've helped others, and, now, I just need a break."
She went to protest, but he held up a hand, calmly stopping her so he could continue. "I have a four year old son whom I never get to see. A few days at Christmas, maybe his birthday, we go on vacation together once a year, but that's it. His mother is afraid of my job. Hell, I'm afraid of my job, that it'll one day bleed into Parker's life. For four years, he was at risk on a daily basis because of what I did, but no more. Now, he'll be safe… or, at least, safer, and Rebecca has already agreed to a much better custody arrangement, so, from where I'm standing, my decision has already paid off."
"Yes, what we do is dangerous," Bones allowed, her voice soft and gentle with a strain of compassion he'd never quite heard from her before, "and, yes, it's emotionally exhausting, but it's important. Without us, murderers would walk free to kill again. If you're doing this for your son, then are you willing to trust someone else with his safety, because, if you're not the one putting the bad guys away, Booth, who will be? Are they as good of an agent as you are, will be they be as sympathetic, will they care as much? As for your son's day to day safety, if you and Rebecca are so concerned, hire somebody. Hire him a bodyguard, put him in a private school, install a home security system, but don't bury your head in the sand and believe the problem will go away just because you want it to."
"When did you start using euphemisms?"
Protesting, she whined, "Booth…!"
"It's too late, Bones. Even if I wanted to go back – which I don't, I already quit."
"Cullen would take you back," his partner answered. "Even if he didn't want to, I would pull some strings, and…."
Once more, he interrupted her. "There will be no string pulling. I'm done with the FBI."
"So, just like that, you're throwing your entire life away?" Before he could respond, she asked, "and what about me?"
"You?"
"I am your partner, Booth."
"Were my partner," he corrected her, "and I had to trick you into working with me in the first place."
"Actually, I blackmailed you, but that's immaterial at this point. I really don't want to have to break in another agent."
"Excuse me - break in?"
"You know," she waved off his objection. "Train. We worked well together. You'd talk… a lot, console the families, and I would solve the crimes."
Chuckling without humor, Booth reclaimed his seat. "See, even you admit that you don't need me."
"I never said that," she argued.
"Maybe not explicitly, Bones, but," he turned her own words back upon her. "But you implied your opinion quite clearly. Besides, the FBI won't want to lose you. They'll assign you some new agent, and you'll continue to solve their cases for them while my replacement talks a lot and consoles the victims."
"It was not my intentions to marginalize your importance, Booth," his former partner said in her own way of apologizing.
"Look, Bones, it doesn't matter, okay?" Holding out his hand to her, he offered, "friends?"
Before she could return the gesture, not that he was sure she was actually going to, his phone rang. When he ignored it, she asked, "aren't you going to answer it? It might be some big, important case, seeing as how you believe Alligator Pond is more deserving of your time than the city your own son lives in."
Growling, Booth ripped the receiver from its cradle, barking, "what," instead of a greeting. He listened to the complaint from the person on the other line, promising to be there as soon as he could. Once he hung up, he readdressed his angry former partner. "I need to…."
"Of course," Bones agreed, though he could tell she wasn't sincere. "May I ask what the emergency is?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. It's official police business." While he knew his words would hurt his friend, he also wasn't about to tell her he was being called out to settle a dispute between two elderly neighbors who were bickering over the dividing line between their properties.
"Well, in that case, if you would be so kind as to have your deputy release my belongings to me, I'll be leaving."
"Do you want me to drop you off back at my place, or are you renting a house while you're here?"
"This wasn't a social call, Booth. I came to convince you to return with me, you refused, so I'm leaving. I'd tell you good luck, but I really wouldn't mean it."
Without waiting for him to respond, she turned on her heel and fairly marched out of his office, shoulders squared and pushed back, head held high, and chin tilted up. Bones was a proud woman, and never before had he felt so insignificant to her, not even on the day they had first met.
