What He Offered

Chapter 4: Calamity Eve

Bones took her pencil in hand and circled the word "calamity" multiple times, making the word look like the eye of a category five hurricane, which was only fitting as it indicated, according to the dictionary, an "event causing great and often sudden damage or distress; a disaster." What in the world could Booth have been thinking, using such a designation for her? To whom had she caused distress? What devastation had she wrought? It was somewhat mollifying to find herself described, in the same paragraph, as his "ideal woman," but that flattering phrase did not quite erase the negative connotations of "calamity," which he had after all used twice, as though for added emphasis. She resolved the problem to her temporary satisfaction by hypothesizing that it was Dr. Cameron, in a misguided attempt to add drama, who was responsible for the word choice. She made an executive decision to absolve Booth completely.

On a whim, she turned back a page to the paragraph containing the description of Booth's "type" of woman to see if those of his girlfriends with whom she was acquainted fit the bill. Rebecca and Tessa she accepted as givens. In the margin, she listed: Cam Saroyan, Dr. Catherine Bryar, and Hannah Burley. She decided to add Agent Payton Perotta as well; she wasn't sure anything had ever come of it, but there had been a mutual attraction there for certain. She then compared what she knew of each woman against the profile: Cam? check; Catherine? check; Hannah? check; Perotta? check. As for herself, she could say, eschewing false modesty, that she was the nec plus ultra in each category. So, yes, she could confirm that Booth did have a discernible 'type.'

The tale had previously suggested that Booth was also drawn to the "damsel in distress" kind of female. She racked her brain to identify some woman in Booth's past who played that role for him, but she came up empty. It was no doubt Dr. Cameron's influence at work again. As an author herself, she recognized that, at times, plots required the creation of secondary characters for no other purpose than to serve as counterpoint to the principles. Dr. Phil (or should that be Dr. Fill?) had identified the need for Tim to have an 'ideal woman' of his own in order to maintain narrative balance, and so had supplied one. In the margin, she wrote: good going, Dr. C!

Having no further observations to make, she resumed her reading.

The Tale of Twin Booths, cont'd

The calamity, as Tim referred to it, had occurred just over a year before. The twins had found themselves in need of help on an investigation that was going nowhere, and one of Vic's former lovers, Cam Saroyan, had recommended the services of Dr. Temperance Brennan, a world-renowned forensic anthropologist. The information they gathered about her painted an impressive portrait: relatively young, demonstrably a genius, universally respected, a leader in her field with a brilliant career, and possibly a Nobel Prize or two, in her future. If she'd been a professional sports figure, the press would have called her a 'generational talent.' Vic's antennae shot up; this woman had definite romantic potential. Tim found himself hoping against hope that she wasn't pretty.

And, she wasn't, not at all. They had decided to seek her out at one of her lectures, and, even from the back of the hall, they could see she was absolutely stunning: a nicely curved body, round in all the right places, a beautifully shaped head with a strong jaw, a mobile mouth, a straight, dainty nose, and eyes…! Those eyes of hers, such a gorgeous blue from afar, but up close, the iris would reveal itself to have one inner ring of gold flecked with amber and an outer ring of greenish-blue; enchanting. Tim spared his brother a look; sure enough, Vic was standing there mesmerized, his mouth hanging open like a lunatic's. And, that was not the end of it: she addressed the audience with superb self-possession, speaking with an authority beyond her years, striding across the stage with obvious self-assurance. Later, when she joined them in the aisle, she held her chin high and looked Vic dead in the eye, undaunted and even somewhat amused. Vic was toast.

Tim knew that his brother's track record with women was stellar, and that he'd risen to many a difficult challenge in the past, but this time, he felt that Vic had bitten off much more than he could chew. "Forget it," was his advice. "She's way out of your league. I'm talking way, way out."

"Yeah," Vic said, sliding back in his recliner, crossing his legs at the ankle, and lacing his hands behind his head. "That's one of the things I like about her. I'm feeling it, Tim. I think this is it. She's a keeper."

"Didn't you hear Cam? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."

"If we're going to be trading stock phrases, try this one on for size: Faint heart never won fair lady. That's my new motto."

"I'm telling you, Vic. This isn't going to end well."

"Yeah? Well, go peddle your pessimism elsewhere, little bro, 'cause this is definitely going to happen. It may take a while, but I'm going to have that sweet little scientist eating out of my hand. Watch and learn."

"Let it go, Vic. Seriously. Quit while you're ahead."

"Stop with the doom and gloom, already. You sound like a broken record. Say, what you want to bet I bed her before we wrap up the case?"

"Vic, you are a jackass."

"Yeah," he laughed, "but I'm a jackass with benefits."

Tim was glad, at first, that he hadn't taken Vic up on his bet. Dr. Brennan seemed to find his brother by turns irritating and intriguing, but one thing remained constant: she was attracted to him, so much so in fact that she never once noticed Tim trailing along behind them. That suited Tim down to the ground; he was more comfortable in the role of observer anyway. He watched them work together and saw a smooth give-and-take; she showed no signs of snobbery or condescension, and Vic was on his very best behavior, charming, respectful, and flirty without going over the line. Tim began to suspect he had badly misjudged the situation when she inquired if Vic were already in a relationship; she was not only interested, she had made the first move. Vic played it cool, but Tim could see his brother's excitement; it was all going well, even better than he'd anticipated. Vic had this one in the bag.

And then, Dr. Brennan put a foot wrong (or rather, a fist) and Vic had been instructed to fire her from the case. The three of them had gone to a pool hall where, once again, Tim was the odd man out. Vic and Dr. Brennan took seats at the bar, while Tim, alone at a nearby table, studied their interplay. They were so clearly taken with each other; with every additional shot of tequila, they leaned in closer, gazed at each other longer, smiled more warmly. She didn't even seem upset to learn she and her team had been let go. Instead, she welcomed the news. She looked up at Vic from under her lashes, and crooked her finger at him. "That means we can have sex," she said in a throaty voice. It was at that exact moment that Tim felt his hair stand on end.

He couldn't have said how, but Tim suddenly knew for a certainty that Dr. Temperance Brennan was a player. She had sized Vic up as a fun-loving guy, cute, cocky, probably good in the sack; in short, primo one-night-stand material. She didn't need to worry about his feelings: he wasn't a deep, soulful guy looking for love and commitment. He was a good-time Charlie. They'd have a few laughs, engage in some mutually-satisfying sex, and part friends in the morning. No harm, no foul. Maybe, if they were particularly compatible between the sheets, they could arrange another tumble or two, or three, but that would be the extent of it. Vic Booth did not figure in Dr. Temperance Brennan's long-term plans.

All Tim could think was: I have to stop them, I can't let this happen. He raced out and found them just outside the exit door, sheltering under the overhang, waiting for the cab to appear. Yes, she was definitely calling the shots, leaning into Vic, raising her face to his, bringing her lips closer. Vic was spellbound, drunk with liquor and desire. In a panic, Tim slipped behind his brother and said, "I have something to confess: I have a gambling problem, but I'm getting it under control… I feel like this might be going somewhere…" Brennan kissed Vic then, a kiss that was to be the entirety of their affair, both "hello, there!" and "good-bye." They broke apart, she ran off, laughing, to the waiting cab, and, after a last brief exchange, she was driven off into the night.

"What the hell just happened?" Vic asked, as Tim came up beside him.

"Sorry, bro. I had to. I told her the truth about you."

"Yeah?" Vic staggered slightly, blinking rapidly against the falling rain. "What truth is that?"

"I told her you wanted more from her than just one night, that you thought she was a keeper."

"So… what's wrong with that?"

Tim exhaled in relief; he hadn't misrepresented his brother's feelings. " 'Happily ever after' is not her thing, Vic. She's a 'love 'em and leave 'em' kind of gal. She didn't want what you were offering."

"That right?" Vic slurred, as Tim steered him back to the bar. "And, what was that, exactly?"

"Your heart, bro. Your guarded, broken heart."