Disclaimer: Unfortunately I neither own, nor am involved with, the production of Bones. On the plus side I work really cheap, so if Hart Hanson or Stephen Nathan is reading this? Call me.
Synopsis: It's the morning after the night before and the question on everyone's mind is "What happens now?". Suddenness of the change in their relationship be the thing that scares away from crossing that damnable line once and for all, or will Booth finally be able to convince her that some things are worth the gamble?
A/N: Sorry it's been so long but life has different plans for all of us. First there was a fire, no worries now but at the time it was something. Then I went and got married – that's been grand but I have to admit all the moving and getting settled in has sort of taken up most of my time. Only now I'm finally writing again so here it is, the next chapter of Guns and Hoses. Hopefully I'll have the next one out in about two weeks! Thanks for everyone who's been hanging in there!
Oh, and a little shout out to Chrissy377 who caught the Easter egg I left in chapter two – Taggart and Rosewood were characters in the classic 1984 movie Beverly Hills Cop. I do tend to put a few Easter eggs in my stories, mentions of FBI agents from days gone by, cases the team has worked, or characters from other shows I tend to watch, so if you spot one, let me know and I'll give you a shout out too!
"Split Decision" – a split decision occurs when the three judges can't agree on the outcome of the fight: two judges will score one boxer as the winner, while the third judge scores the other boxer as the winner. Split decisions are usually controversial and almost no one is happy with the outcome. As always, adult situations and language apply.
Guns and Hoses – Split Decision
Seeley Booth was a decorated FBI Agent, a former US Army Ranger and Special Forces sniper. He'd parachuted behind enemy lines, escaped from a POW camp, even managed to free himself from the Gravedigger's trap, all without panicking, not even once. So it's odd that the soft sound of bare feet padding across the wooden floor of Brennan's living room would be enough to terrify him.
"Bones? I'm thirsty."
"Wha-? Parker?" Brennan mumbled.
If Parker's sleep filled voice wasn't enough to draw Brennan out of her slumber, Booth unceremoniously dumping her on the cool and sticky mat as he pulled the throw they'd been wrapped in over her head, certainly was.
"It's okay, Bub." Booth hastily grabbed for the towel from earlier and covered himself as best he could. "Listen, let's let Bones sleep and I'll get you a drink of water."
"M'kay."
Booth said a silent prayer thanking an ever merciful God, the Holy Mother, and all the angels and saints he could recall, for the fact that his son was still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he shambled down the hall toward Brennan's guest bath. Pulling a Dixie cup from the dispenser, he filled it quickly and handed it to the thirsty little boy. Booth smiled, watching his son drink and recalling the boy's delight on seeing the small paper cups nestled in the plastic pop-up dispenser. The fact that his partner had bought the unsightly thing just because his son had seen one demonstrated at the store and couldn't stop talking about it, well that made him smile all the harder. Parker drank the water down in one long swallow, blindly set the cup on the vanity top, and grumbled unintelligibly as he shuffled off to bed, his father following close behind.
By the time he'd returned to the living room, Booth could see a very naked Temperance Brennan standing amidst the proof of their passionate coupling just hours before. In one hand she held the balled up remains of her soiled clothing, while the other perched on her hip as she scanned the area. He took in the sight of her, his eyes hungrily devouring the vision of a naked goddess, her skin aglow in the guttering candlelight, and he ached to taste her inch by inch. By the time Booth's gaze had settled on her face he nearly choked. At some point in time, while he was admiring, and fantasizing about, her deliciously naked body, she'd realized he was in the room and was staring directly back at him.
"Is Parker alright?"
Brennan's voice had that raspy, breathy quality to it that he'd only heard before on the rare occasions he'd had to interrupt her sleep. The thought that he was hearing it right now because they'd fallen to sleep together after having the best sex of his life caused his towel to jerk just a bit.
"Booth, I asked you if Parker was alright."
"Oh, um, yeah, yeah, he's fine Bones." Booth started toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.
Brennan's forehead furrowed and she shot him a questioning look.
"You're sure he's not upset by what he saw? Us, I mean?"
"Nah, don't worry about it." Booth chuckled, "Parker's a pretty heavy sleeper. I doubt he'll remember anything when he gets up in the morning."
"Really?"
"Yeah, he could barely keep his eyes open even when we were in the bathroom getting him a drink." His arms circled her waist, slowly pulling her to him. "Trust me, baby, it'll be fine."
Pushing up on her toes, Brennan placed a simple, soft, kiss upon Booth's mouth before dropping back in his arms. She smiled at the elements of confusion and frustration she could see etched in his face.
"Booth, what were you thinking of before?"
"Before what, Bones?"
"Just a few moments ago, when I asked if Parker was alright, you seemed…preoccupied." She cocked her head expectantly. "What were you thinking about?"
"Oh, that." Booth blushed as Brennan's focus became more pronounced. "It was nothing, baby. I was just thinking how beautiful you looked, standing here, all naked and everything."
"Really, and that's all it was? Simple visual stimulation?"
Brennan ran her hands down his back until her fingers were tracing the edge of his towel, her touch leaving a trail of gooseflesh on his bronzed skin.
"Well, I might also have been thinking about the fact that you sound incredibly sexy when you first wake up."
"I do? Really?" Booth nodded, and Brennan's fingers slid beneath his towel until her hands were palming his ass. "And is that all, Agent Booth?"
His arms tightened their grip around her waist automatically, his hips rolling against hers on instinct. When he looked down at her half lidded, smoky blue eyes it was all Booth could do to choke back a groan.
"Well, maybe, just maybe, Doctor Brennan, I was looking forward to all the nights to come when I'd get to see you naked, just like this." Unable to help himself, he lowered his head to hers and placed a lingering kiss on her swollen lips. "And all the mornings after when I'd wake up with you in my arms, and hear that sexy voice of yours."
Brennan leaned forward and returned his kiss eagerly, her teeth nipping at his lower lip, her tongue darting out to soothe away the sting. The kiss became fierce, and she moaned at the feel of Booth's strong, silken tongue sweeping deep into her mouth. When they finally parted, it was for lack of air, not want.
"Damn, baby. You can't imagine what you do to me," Booth's growl was low and dangerous.
"Oh, I don't know, Booth," Brennan smiled wickedly. "I think I've got a pretty good idea."
The sudden absence of Brennan in his arms wasn't half as disconcerting as the feel of cool air assaulting Booth's thighs. Booth's hardening cock twitched in response to the gleam he caught in Brennan's eyes as she danced away from him, waving the towel like a flag.
"Bones!" He laughed, reaching after her. "C'mere you..."
"Oh, I don't think so Booth," Brennan ducked away from him. "Parker just got back to sleep, we've got to be up for work in less than four hours, and then there's this mess that you've got to clean up."
"I have to clean this up by myself? Really?"
Booth took a predatory step toward her, but Brennan stopped him with the touch of an outstretched hand on his chest.
"Yes, really." Brennan leaned in far enough to kiss him lightly, but stepped back just before he could wrap his arms around her. "Now, you clean up out here while I get ready for bed."
"Yeah, sure. I mean, yes, I'll stay out here and get everything cleaned up, ya' know, by myself while you are, you know, whatever."
Brennan might not have been the best at reading people, but Booth's sudden bout of insecurity was writ plainly in every word and hand gesture. She decided to take pity on him.
"Relax, Booth. When you were done out here I'd assumed you'd be joining me in bed. Was I wrong?"
Her reward was the sudden appearance of one of his patented thousand watt smiles, the kind that made her heart flutter.
"No, not wrong at all, baby."
And then he just had to use his latest sobriquet for her, for what she was sure had to be the hundredth time that night. Brennan twisted her mouth into a seductive smile, her voice singing out to him.
"Oh, Booth?" she called out lyrically.
"Yeah, Bones?"
"You know how you've been calling me 'baby'?" Her smoky blue eyes burned into his, and all he could do was nod in reply. "Well, if you keep it up? You will be sleeping out here, and you'll be quite alone. Are we clear?"
"Clear as a bell...baby."
Brennan scowled as he dropped all pretense of befuddlement, and countered her seductive attack with an arrogant smile she wanted to slap off his face, or possibly kiss into oblivion - she wasn't sure which. Stalking off in a huff, Brennan didn't know what bothered her more; the low, mocking sound of his laughter following her down the hall, or the realization that she actually didn't mind being called baby.
She woke with the knowledge that her world had changed. It was a fundamental, inexorable change, she knew, but it felt...good. Blinking away the sleep, her vision adjusted to the light of an early dawn as it filtered through the window. Feeling the steady rhythm of Booth's breath, the measured beat of his heart beneath her ear, Brennan couldn't help but smile against his skin. This was the very thing she'd fought against for years, taking that final step with him, crossing the line once and for all between partners and lovers, because she'd known almost since the moment she met him that once she crossed that line there would be no going back. Now, laying there curled against his side, her head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her, as if to ward off the cold grey light of the coming day, she had to wonder why? Why she had fought this for so long?
Feeling him shift slowly, almost imperceptibly, toward wakefulness, Brennan let her hand slide over the smooth, warm skin of his stomach and down toward his hip. His arms tightened about her as his lips kissed the crown of her head.
"Morning, beautiful."
"Good morning."
Brennan pressed against him, as if he wasn't already holding her tight. She felt a sudden, overwhelming need to be as close to him as possible. The tee she'd stolen from him in the middle of the night now felt like an unforgiving barrier, and she knew if she could, she'd burrow right into his skin.
"Hmm, someone's feeling cuddly this morning."
When Brennan didn't immediately respond, Booth tried to shift position so he could get a good look at her.
"Bones, baby? Are you okay?"
Two fathomless blue eyes looked up at him, and Booth felt something inside him loosen. Of course that was before the sharp pinching pain in his ass.
"OW! What the hell was that for?!"
"I wanted to make sure this wasn't a dream," Brennan managed with a straight face.
Booth's eyes narrowed and his gaze swept over her face, taking in the smooth, worry free forehead, large innocent eyes, and prim little smile that all said 'liar'. A split second later peals of laughter echoed off the walls as he turned her beneath him, his fingers dancing over her sides and tickling her mercilessly.
"BOOOTH!" she laughed, breathlessly. "St-op it!"
"Stop what, Bones?"
His fingers dug into her ribs, working their way up and down her wriggling body and Brennan's laughter quickly devolved into gasps, giggles, and squeals for mercy. So entranced was he at the sight of a red faced, carefree, laughing Brennan beneath him, that Booth failed to notice the bedroom door open, or hear the sound of small feet pounding across the floor.
"I'll save you, Bones!"
Booth felt the impact of his son's body across the ribs on his right side. At four foot three and weighing exactly 72 pounds, Parker Booth was already taking after his father, so it would be with some sense of pride that Seeley Booth would later note his son had used near perfect tackling form to take him down, squaring his body and hitting straight on with his shoulder. Of course Booth would have to get up off the floor first.
"Parker!" exclaimed Brennan.
"Daddy!" laughed Parker.
"Shit!" shouted Booth.
Parker crawled over a still stunned Brennan to check out his handiwork. As soon as she recovered from the shock of seeing Booth tossed off the bed by Parker's flying tackle, Brennan sat up, pulling the covers with her, thankful that she was still wearing the tee-shirt she'd stolen from Booth in the middle of the night.
"Are you okay, Booth?"
"I, I don't know, Bones. I think Parker killed my back."
Booth's strangled voice elicited a panic from woman and boy, both of whom clambered over the edge to the fallen man. Parker quickly went to his father's side; his small hands fluttering around his dad's face, fingers patting cheeks in between insistent demands that he get up. Brennan's hands move with more precision, if no less urgency, as they quickly slid beneath his trunk and began feeling their way along his spine. Parker's attention was soon drawn by Brennan, who quickly had the small boy helping her in examining Booth's injuries. It was at that time the 'patient' chose to make a spontaneous recovery.
Arms wrapping around both his son and his partner, Booth tossed first one, then the other, forward onto the bed before jumping on top of them both. The next few minutes was a chaos of laughter, shouts, squeals, giggles, and tickle attacks that only ended when the two most important people in his life finally teamed up to take him down. The alarm went off soon after.
"Booth, the alarm," Brennan observed.
"Yeah, Bones, good call. But seeing how you guys have me prisoner, what did you want me to do about it?"
"We need to get going, we're already late."
"How can you guys be late, Bones?" Parker tilted his head at her. "The alarm just went off, and those only go off when it's time to get up, right?"
"Yeah, Bones, what the little traitor here just said." Booth sat up, pulling Parker into his lap so he could continue tickling him. "So how can we be late already?"
"To begin with, you don't have a clean suit here, so you'll have to go back to your apartment to get ready for work. Also you've got to get Parker off to school on time, and that's important, Booth. I won't allow Parker to be party to scholastic misconduct simply because we lost track of time."
Brennan reached for Parker, rescuing the little boy from his father's clutches. Booth smiled at the sight of his son nestled in Brennan's arms, and the adoring look Parker gave her.
"Okay, ya' know what Bones? You're right."
"Of course I am." Brennan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why am I right?"
"Because, Bones, I don't have a clean suit here, do I?" Booth smiled indulgently at Brennan, "and Parker does have to go to school this morning, doesn't he?"
"I already pointed out that-"
"And since his school is closer to your apartment than mine, I might as well go home to change for work and you can take Parker to school."
"Wait, what?" The barely suppressed panic in Brennan's voice made Booth's eyes gleam with mischief.
"Sure, I mean, it makes sense, right? It is on your way to the lab, after all."
"I can take Parker to school?"
Sensing weakness, Parker closed in for the kill.
"Yea! It'll be great, Bones! Can we go in your fancy Spanish car? The one that's worth more than Dad makes in a year?" Parker pleaded.
"Parker!"
"Parker, you're not being nice to your father when you intimate that he earns less per year than a car is worth," Brennan corrected him gently. "Your dad is a public servant, and his work is very, very important, even if he's not given monetary compensation appropriate to his ability or to the value of his sacrifice for society."
"Huh?"
"What Bones is saying, Bub, is that I've got a very important job to do helping people, and even though it's not fair I don't get paid as much as some dads do, or get free cars for doing my job, we don't complain about it 'cause we're not whiners, right?"
"Right," Parker nodded at his dad before looking back at Brennan. "So can we take the Spanish car?"
Brennan looked to Booth for some sort of support, but when she saw the crinkle of laughter in his eyes she could only sigh in acceptance. She'd been outflanked by the father and son team once again.
"Yes, I suppose we can."
"YEA!" The boy slid from her lap and bolted for the door.
"Parker? One thing..."
"Yes, Bones?"
"Why do you keep referring to my car as Spanish?"
"Yeah, Bub, I'm kinda curious about that myself."
"Oh, well there's this girl in my class, and her name is Mercedes."
Booth rolled his eyes, "Let me guess, she's Spanish?"
"Uh-huh. Hey, daddy? Can we have pancakes for breakfast?"
"We'll see; now go on and get ready for school."
Booth shooed him out of the room, and the sound of rapidly receding youthful laughter left the two partners staring at each other from across the bed.
Two figures in pale grey coats mounted the steps to the platform, each taking turns to swipe their cards before setting foot on the lab's most hallowed ground. Upon the stainless steel exam tables, two sets of carefully preserved remains lay, ivory puzzle pieces that seemed to glow in the harsh light of day. The two figures moved with unerring synchronicity across the cluttered space, their focus entirely upon the remains as they took turns, examining, cataloging, postulating, commenting, and debating.
From her perch in the observation lounge, Angela Montenegro watched them work, coffee in hand. As the air handlers kicked in and a zephyr of cool air blew across her neck, she clutched the warm cup tighter between her hands.
"If you're cold, I'd recommend moving."
Angela started at the all too clinical sound of her best friend's voice.
"Hey, Bren."
"You know, the last time you stood beneath a cold air return vent for a substantial amount of time, you complained the rest of the day about how it gave you a stiff neck."
"And hello to you too, Angela," Angela mocked. "Gosh, it's so good to see you this morning, I've been having such naughty dreams about a certain special agent and I just didn't know who else to talk to."
Brennan stared hard at the artist.
"I would say that sarcasm does not become you, Angela, but we both know I'd be lying."
Brennan made an about face, turning her back on her best friend and making toward the coffee pot and the Sumatran blend that awaited her. The artist watched the anthropologist with interest. On the odd days she was forced to partake of the Jeffersonian's coffee, Brennan moved with a degree of economy that bordered on graceful. Today, however something was off.
She picked up a mug and turned it over and over between her hands, as if she was playing a child's game of hot potato. When she did finally set it down, she hesitated between the sugar and soy milk, adding a spoonful of one then a splash of the other, and repeating the process until Angela was sure the coffee drink would be more akin to a sweetened café au lait than Brennan's regular morning cup.
"Something bothering you, Brennan?"
Seeing the deer in the headlights look at her question, Angela knew something was indeed wrong.
"How did you know?"
"Well, for one thing you're acting like you're at the Café du Monde, and not the lab," Angela gently pried the cup from Brennan's hands and set it aside. "For another, you look like you're about to climb out of your skin."
"I didn't mean that. I meant…how did you know you were in love with Hodgins?"
This time it was Angela's turn to stare.
That Brennan had ignored her gentle jibe wasn't unusual, she often ignored Angela's sarcastic asides when it suited her mood. That she'd bypassed the comment about climbing out of her skin, forgoing the opportunity to lecture ad nauseum about the impossibility of actually shedding one's skin or using it as an excuse to launch into lecture mode about greeting rituals of some unknown tribe along the banks of the little Muddy river in Upper Elbonia, that was unexpected but not unwelcomed. No, what had caught the artist totally unawares was the frank manner in which she broached the previously taboo topic of love.
Brennan hadn't only broached the subject; she was asking Angela for an actual conversation about it. Of course the artist should have been happy, she should have squealed like some caricature fan-girl in one of the many Kathy and Andy fan-fictions she'd read, bubbling effusively about epic love, fate, and all that other crap that seemed to obsess those people - not that she had a problem with the romance, but she really only read fan-fiction for the smut. Smut she could have handled right now. Questions about love, about her and Hodgins? That was something else altogether.
"If you're uncomfortable talking to me about it, I understand. I just thought, all those times you seemed to want me to talk to you about…" Brennan stepped back, "It's not important; anyway, I need to get back to work."
Brennan's retreat finally pulled Angela out of her shock.
"Oh no; no, you don't." She grabbed Brennan by the arm and walked her over toward the couch. "You're not getting out this conversation that easily, Bren."
"But you're clearly not comfortable talking about this with me, and I really do have work I need to get back to, so I don't see why-"
"Stop it, please?" Angela sat and waited for Brennan to do the same, "Look, it's not that I don't want to have this conversation, Brennan. It's just…I had a plan, you know?"
"A plan?"
"Yes."
"You're my best friend and you require a plan to talk to me?"
"About love in general? No. About you being in love with Booth? You bet I do."
Brennan's brow furrowed in concern, "I wasn't aware it was so onerous a task to talk to me. Perhaps I should just go."
"Nuh-uh, no way, Brennan." Angela's arm came up automatically to stop the forensic anthropologist from making good her escape. "Just because I'm not ready for this conversation doesn't mean we're not going to have it. And honestly, Bren sweetie, it's not that talking to you is really that onerous, as you put it, it's just, well, it can be frustrating at times because you don't always listen."
"That's not true; I always listen to you, Angela!" Brennan scoffed. "I just don't always agree with your often irrational, frequently nonsensical claims about emotions because I know them to be transitory, ephemeral things that offer only fleeting comfort at the expense of long term loss."
"Uh-huh, and is that why you're worried about letting yourself love Booth? Because you think that it's just some fleeting feeling that's going to fade away and before you know it…"
"I'll be alone, again."
Hands folded neatly in her lap, Brennan's gaze shifted to the floor, and to Angela it appeared as if she was intently studying the carpeting in front of the couch. The artist gave her friend's hands a reassuring squeeze.
"See? This is why I need a plan, Brennan. You hear the words that I'm saying but you're so sure you know the answer to everything that you never really listen." Angela held up a hand to stifle Brennan's protest. "I'm not accusing you of anything, sweetie, I'm just saying that sometimes being a genius in almost everything else makes it hard for you to accept that someone else just might know what they're talking about."
Brennan sat silently pondering Angela's words, and slowly she lifted her face to hers and nodded.
"Alright, you mentioned before about emotions being ephemeral and temporary-"
"Actually I said transitory."
"Yeah, basically that's the same thing sweetie, now don't interrupt and just listen to me." Angela took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "When you think about love, what do you think about?"
"I think, I think that love is nothing more than a chemical reaction. It's the sudden release of the hormones testosterone and estrogen, and the flood of neurochemicals like dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin, and vasopressin that make us feel attracted to members of the opposite sex, that make us feel attraction and desire and belonging and all of these things, these things that the chemicals make us feel, we call those feelings love."
Angela simply stared at Brennan, shook her head slightly, blinked twice and then gave her friend a sadly indulgent smile.
"Okay, Bren, let's try that again only this time without the scientific mumbo jumbo, okay? This is heart stuff, sweetie - just, tell me what you feel in your heart when you think about Booth."
"I, I trust him."
"Okay…okay trust is good. What else?"
"I…he makes me feel safe. I know I'm safe with him, I know that he won't hurt me, not on purpose, and I trust him. I know I can tell him anything and he won't judge me."
"And why is that, Brennan? Why doesn't he judge you?"
"Because he's my partner, Angela," Brennan shot her a reproving look. "Partners trust one another; they have each others' backs."
"Yeah, but partners don't usually spend five years circling one another like two celestial bodies locked in a decaying orbit around a gravitational singularity, just waiting for that moment when the sexual tension tears them apart and they collide in a massive explosion of cosmic radiation." Brennan's eyebrows shot upward. "Sorry, I couldn't sleep last night and there was a show on Discovery about black holes."
"So I gathered."
"My point, sweetie, is that you've been hiding behind your partnership with Booth to avoid dealing with how you really feel about him, and I think we both know how you really feel about him. Don't we?"
"Booth is, well, he's my partner…and my friend."
"Brennan, I'm your friend and I don't flirt outrageously with you, or get all jealous when other men do, and while I worry like hell, I certainly don't get crazy over-protective whenever I think you're in danger."
"Sweets says our partnership provides us with a surrogate relationship, and that while it helps us to avoid the sting of rejection, it also makes forming other, more meaningful relationships impossible."
"Is that what you think? I mean, really think?"
Angela arched a questioning eyebrow at her friend. To Brennan's credit it appeared that she was giving the question serious thought; Angela could only hope that her heart-shy friend could live with whatever the answer was.
"Yes...and no," Brennan hesitated; Angela could all but hear the gears turning in her friend's head. "Yes, we've allowed ourselves to maintain a surrogate relationship for the past few years, and yes, it has kept us both safe from having to face the sting of rejection, not only from other people, but also from each other."
"Go on."
"It's safe. It's a safe choice and we've used it, this surrogate relationship, to avoid dealing with our mutual attraction and, and the potential for pain if one of us were to reject the other. So we hid, we hid behind this lie because it was comfortable and safe and it meant we would always be friends and partners and we would never, ever, have to deal with the possibility of not being in each other's lives."
Angela all but hurled herself at Brennan, wrapping the stunned woman in a fierce, joyful hug.
"Oh Sweetie! I'm so proud of you! You figured it out, finally, all on your own!"
Brennan finally overcame the surprise to work her arms between their bodies and then, with some effort, break the near suffocating grip her friend had on her, only to grasp the confused artist by the arms in exasperation.
"But what's the answer?! How do I know I'm really in love with Booth? How do I know if love is worth it? If loving Booth is worth it?"
Now it was Angela's turn to look exasperated, as she easily shrugged free of Brennan's grasp by standing up in an agitated rush.
"Oh good God, Brennan! You cannot be serious, or are you being this dense on purpose?!" She started pacing back and forth excitedly. "You've got a great guy, a wonderfully hunky sexy muscley hunk of man candy who freakin' adores you and has gone out of his way to prove it to you again and again, and you still have to ask if he's worth it? What's wrong with you?!"
"Well what do you expect me to say, Angela? That just because my body is still awash in the post coital bliss of the best sex of my life, I'm going to forget that I risk losing the most meaningful relationship I've ever had for another roll in the grass?"
"Post coital…sex? You and Booth had-"
Angela's words were cut off by Brennan's fingers over her lips. She shoved the hand away and glared hard at her friend.
"You and Booth had sex last night!" she hissed. "I cannot believe you would keep that from me, Brennan! Especially since you know how Goddamned long I've been waiting for that little tidbit."
"Well it's not like I'm going to give you details beyond that, what goes on between Booth and I is ours, Angela."
"Yeah, well we'll discuss your lack of understanding about the girl code later. A roll in the grass…" Angela cussed softly. "It's a roll in the hay, Sweetie, and I think we both know it'd be a lot more than just a roll. It's Booth, it'd be the whole hayfield, maybe even an entire farm."
"That isn't enough, Angela. That could never be enough to give up what we already have." Brennan's voice fell softly, "A lie can be worth living if the lie means never having to give up what makes you happy."
"And that's what you think? Even now, having actually had more with him, you think you can just go back to what you two had before? You think you can pretend to be nothing more than friends and partners? How can you possibly be content with your surrogate relationship now? How could you be content living a lie?"
"What's the alternative, to be like you?" Angela jerked back as if she'd been struck. "You were in love with Hodgins, Angela. You were engaged to get married, I was going to be your maid of honor, and look at how that worked out! You two aren't together, you could barely stand to be in the same room with one another for months, and now your sexless and alone and trying to live vicariously through me and I really don't think I can do that when Booth and I break up!"
"You know, Brennan, sometimes being your friend is a real pain in the ass." She glared at the wide-eyed anthropologist. "What happened between Hodgins and me? Bren, that could never happen to you and Booth."
"True, I don't have an ex-husband that I still want to sleep with, and while Cam and Booth do have a history, I'm fairly certain they're no longer interested in each other sexually." Brennan ignored the growing look of ire in Angela's eyes. "But what happens when I make some horrible mistake and he ends up hating me?"
Angela took a calming breath before focusing intently on Brennan, capturing her gaze with a deep, earnest look that demanded trust.
"It's not going to happen, Brennan, and Booth could never, ever, hate you."
"Really? I told you that the idea of donating to save a piglet was symbolic at best and you hated me for it, I'm sure I'll say or do something far worse to Booth."
"Oh Sweetie, I've never hated you, not really."
"You didn't want to be friends anymore!"
"No, no, no, no, no! Oh Bren," Angela pulled her friend into another fierce hug. "I never hated you, and I never didn't want to be friends."
"But you said…"
"Yes, I said," Angela pulled back, cupping Brennan's face in her hands. "Bren, I'm a drama queen, okay? I get mad and I say things and I don't always mean them and sometimes, sometimes they take on a life of their own."
"They do?" Angela nodded, tears peeking from her eyes. "And you didn't hate me, not even a little?"
"No Sweetie, not even a little," Angela sniffled. "Not then, not now, not ever. Not even after all the things you said about Hodgins and me."
"Well, those were arguably true," Brennan sniffled too, suddenly struggling to hold back her own tears. "But I'm sorry if what I said was hurtful or painful to hear."
The two women sniffled, laughed, wiped the few errant tears from their faces and laughed again.
"Oh God, Brennan, believe me when I say that what went on between me and Hodgins, it's nothing at all like what's going on between you and Booth. You two, you're starting out with a history, you've got five years together and all the trust and friendship that goes with it."
"Do you think that's going to be enough?"
"Can you imagine yourself with anyone else, Bren? I mean, like ever?" Brennan shook her head no, a small smile starting to form on her lips. "Then, Sweetie, you've got nothing to worry about, because if the man hasn't left you by now there's no way you're ever going to chase him off."
"I'm not sure if I should find that reassuring or insulting," Brennan smiled at her best friend. "But given all that we've talked about, I think I'll choose to find it reassuring."
"So then you're saying..."
"I'm saying that I am ready to enter into a monogamous romantic relationship with Booth."
"Honey, you already had one of those, you just weren't having sex! I'm talking about you and Booth and the 'L' word."
"Lesbianism?" Angela's face contorted into a mask of growing incredulity and Brennan laughed. "I'm sorry, Ange, I couldn't resist the humorous misdirection."
"So are you going to say it, the real 'L' word that is?"
"Of course I am, but I think the first time I tell anyone that I've come to terms with my emotions and I can accept that I'm in love with Booth, it should be him. Don't you agree?"
"Oh, absolutely, Sweetie, and don't worry, I won't say a thing to anyone about anything, alright?" Brennan nodded in response, her eyes glittering with joy. "But we will be having that talk about the girl code later, Brennan. You won't keep putting me off about the sex life forever – and I'll want details!"
Brennan waved off her friend and made her way down the stairs. Angela soon followed suit, though she ended up standing at the railing, in the same spot she'd occupied before, barely noticing the cool air from the vent as it hit the back of her neck. Instead her attention was riveted to the platform below, where the two interns were now preparing their notes for Brennan, and where a certain entomologist was having an animated discussion with the local pathologist.
She watched with interest the way Jack's face lit up as he described whatever piece of information he'd managed to glean from some bit of bug or slime or soil (never dirt though, always soil). She saw the indulgent smile Cam gave back, the one that spoke of worn patience mixed with genuine affection, and for the first time she recognized just how attractive Camille Saroyan was, and how close she was standing to Jack Hodgins. Cam laughed, one of those genuine knee slapping laughs that she shared so rarely, and Angela couldn't help but notice the light in Jack's eyes, just like she couldn't ignore the sudden tightening in her own stomach.
Brennan was right. In spite of having about as much tact as a well aimed brick, Brennan was absolutely right when she called Angela out on how she'd let her relationship with Hodgins end. They'd been in love, really in love, ready to get married in love, and it all ended why? Because she wasn't ready to hear about Grayson hooking up with Cam, or was Brennan right? Was a part of her still clinging to what Grayson represented? The easy-going gypsy sex life, the wanderlust, the serious relationships that lasted only three weeks a year but were there for her every year, the marriage in Fiji - she'd have had to give all that up to be with Jack. Had she really ended things because he didn't trust her, or had she ended things because she didn't trust herself? Seeing the way her ex was now looking at her boss, she wasn't sure it mattered, because the one thing she knew was that she was still in love with Jack Hodgins. He was hers, and nothing would ever change that. It was time she made sure he knew it too.
The soft sound of papers shuffling resounded in the silence of his office. Booth grabbed another manila folder from the stack teetering precariously atop his inbox and barely stifled a yawn. He was exhausted, but it was the best kind of tired there was, the kind that came from waking up next to his partner after having the most unforgettable night of his life. Just the thought of how she felt beneath him, the memory of how she looked as she came apart in his arms, or how she tasted after he finally got into her bed, was enough to have him counting the minutes until he could see her again tonight.
"Damn, that must have been some kiss." Booth looked up to see Charlie standing there in his doorway, another stack of folders in his hands and a smirk painted on his face. "I mean, I knew once you and the Doc figured things out you'd be gangbusters, but no one, and I mean no one, should smile while filling out manpower reports."
Booth shook his head dismissively, but he couldn't hide the smile that was still plastered across his face.
"What the hell are you talking about Agent Burns?"
"Pffft, don't give me that crap Booth, I heard about the kiss. Hell, everybody heard about the kiss – Brooks couldn't stop whining about it, she really had her sights set on you, ya' know." Charlie's smirk grew bolder at Booth's obvious discomfort, but it didn't diminish the big man's smile even a little. "Seriously Booth, you got any pointers for us old married guys? I mean, I'd sure as hell like to smile like that while I'm filling out req forms."
"Yeah, I don't think so," Booth snorted. "There's nothing I can teach you anyway, it's just good clean living on my part."
Charlie busted out laughing at Boot's last comment and soon the agent was chuckling right along with him. The laughter died down quickly, however, and Booth was soon giving Charlie a worried look.
"Say, Charlie, when you say everybody heard about Bones kissing me…"
"I mean everyone," He nodded soberly. "Look, Booth, it's not entirely Brooks' fault. She was sorta gobsmacked, I guess, and she only told one other Agent that I know of, and that was her little sister."
"Her little sister is an Agent?" Booth racked his brain trying to come up with a face. "Wait, you don't mean the kid that's been running around doing gopher duty for White Collar?"
Charlie nodded, and Booth let out a low whistle.
"That's Brooks' sister, huh. And here I thought she was a college kid from the GWU intern program," Booth shook his head in amazement. "God she's got to be green as hell."
"Yep, Agent Christina Brooks came here straight out of Quantico. Top of her class too, from what I understand, and competitive as all hell."
"Hmm, why do I get the feeling that there's more to the story than you're letting on?"
"Yeah, well, it's probably nothing more than the regular scuttlebutt, you know, sour grapes and all…"
"But?"
Charlie sat down in one of the chairs opposite Booth and leaned in conspiratorially.
"You know that colossal screw up the OC unit had with the Manfredi wire tap?"
"The one that happened last month? The one that was going to blow open the Maggia's ties to the Mexican cartels moving in to the DC area? The one that almost got Furst fired? Hell yes, I've got a half dozen memos about it, and I've had to re-file the forms requesting electronic surveillance on three different investigations just because of that mess." Booth rocked forward in his chair. "You're telling me that Baby Brooks was involved in that somehow?"
Charlie nodded.
"A couple of weeks ago I was down at file admin, pulling the files on the Leacock case in advance of trial, and I overheard baby Brooks and one of the other rookies, some kid named Shaw, and they were arguing about it – and I mean, really going at it." Charlie shifted in his seat before he continued. "Anyway, I didn't catch all of it but the gist of the conversation was that junior Special Agent Christina Brooks was in the process of, um, attempting to advance her career through alternative means by, you know, providing services above and beyond the call of duty for the lead agent handling the tap. Unfortunately for him, that's the exact time one of Silvio Manfredi's goons decided to take an interest in the surveillance van."
"You don't mean-"
"The van was a rockin' and he went a knockin'," Charlie smiled wickedly.
"No way!" Booth's voice sounded scandalized. "Wait, how in the hell did she not lose her job over that?"
"Seems that the guy she was, shall we say, servicing?" Booth nodded, "well, it seems he wasn't the only one she was knocking boots with in OC."
"You've got to be kidding me!"
"Hand to God, my friend, hand to God."
"Holy shit, Patrick's got to be 20, 25 years older than her at least."
"Closer to thirty, but from what I hear she's got real daddy issues. Anyway, rumor has it that Furst took the heat for the screw up, so to speak, and took a 45 day suspension without pay, while all she got was a quiet transfer to White Collar."
"Hmm, well, Burke's happily married…"
"And Barrigan is a lesbian, so unless baby Brooks is really hell bent on getting a promotion before she turns one, she's outta luck."
"Oh Jesus, Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you that kind of thing just isn't appropriate! Good God, man, Standards and Practices doesn't tolerate that crap, and you know I don't like it either." Booth scolded, then smirked at Charlie, "And I know for a fact that Barrigan's not a lesbian, not even close."
"What do you mean you know she's not a…" Charlie caught the sight of Booth's ears turning red and laughed. "No. Fucking. Way. That belt buckle is right, you really are one cocky S.O.B., Booth, about that there is no doubt."
Booth laughed at the mixture of surprise and awe that still lingered on Charlie's face and just shook his head.
"That was a long time ago, Charlie, and a gentleman never tells, but I'd have to say you're right," Booth's thoughts instantly went to Brennan and his wistful smile returned. "I really am one lucky bastard."
Charlie stood up then, slowly, and shook his head at the other man's obvious happiness. Stretching enough to make his back pop, and Booth wince in sympathy, the other Agent dropped the files he'd brought with him on the edge of Booth's desk.
"You know, Charlie, for a desk jockey you're one hell of an investigator. I'm pretty sure IOD could use a guy like you."
Laughing, Booth grabbed for the fresh stack of manila folders, missing the fact that his comment had hit the other man the wrong way. The smile that had graced Charlie's face before was gone, replaced by a look of genuine distaste.
"Work for the rat squad? I'd sooner do the dog and pony show circuit for Public Affairs," he griped. "Anyway, I gotta get back to my work, and you've got plenty of your own to keep you busy now, so I'll get going."
Booth had been leafing through the files and was surprised to see that they were all FBI personnel records. He shot the retreating Agent a look and called after him.
"Hey, wait a sec - what in the hell am I supposed to do with these?"
Charlie shrugged.
"Santiago left them with me to give to you, you're supposed to pick out a rookie for our unit, and that pile is what he considers to be our pool of qualified candidates."
"Great, just great," Booth snorted. "So what, they're finally giving us a permanent replacement for Sullivan after three years? Or is someone getting moved and I'm the last to know about it, yet again?"
"Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn't be talking out of class so much…" Charlie replied in a slightly injured tone. "I mean, I don't want to draw too much attention from Operations, after all."
Booth let slip an exasperated sigh.
"Christ, I'm sorry about the IOD comment, okay? Jeez."
Charlie relented, and then turned back to Booth like an eager, gossipy school girl.
"Right, well I heard that there's a re-org coming up. Nothing specific, I mean, Santiago really didn't know much, all he could say was he'd heard Hacker talking about a plan to 'shake up the status quo' and 'maximize agent potential' or some shit. I guess they're looking at some way to make us all sorts of more efficient or do some lame ass cross training gig. Something like that."
Booth swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. 'Shit,' was the only coherent thought he could form.
"And you're sure that there's no idea who's getting moved or why they're doing this now?"
"Nope, not a clue. Why, you think Hacker's got plans to split up you and the doc?"
The look on Booth's face told him that was exactly what his boss believed, and Charlie tried to reassure the other man immediately.
"Hey, seriously, Booth, I really don't know what this is about but I honestly don't think it's anything more than another one of those cross training things, okay? I mean, you're the best SSA this unit has ever had and our closure rate, hell, your closure rate, it absolutely kicks ass. So I don't think you need to worry, okay?"
Booth gave him a nod, and Charlie finally made for the door. Looking at the other man's retreating back, Booth made a mental note to reward his lead desk jockey for the heads up. Charlie did have a point, there's no way that Hacker could justify moving him to another unit, and it wasn't just his success rate. He was an SSA, he couldn't be moved unless they had a position open for him to take and there were more SSAs right now than they had openings…unless they moved him to Organized crime. And suddenly Booth's blood went cold.
Charlie was right, he did run a tight unit and since he'd taken over as the CID's resident SSA the entire unit's closure rate had climbed until it was tops in the Bureau, not just the best at the Hoover. In fact only one other unit came close, Burke's White Collar unit was almost as good and closed nearly as many cases, but there was no way they'd consider moving him to White Collar or Burke to CID, so shuffling SSA's didn't make any sense unless…Hacker intended to move him to the embattled Organized Crime unit as a replacement for Furst. Suddenly Booth was flush with anger.
'Goddamn him,' his anger boiled over at the thought. 'I honestly thought that bastard would keep his word to me! What the fuck was I thinking? Jesus, what am I gonna do now? What am I gonna tell Bones? She's gonna kill me, or him, or me then him. Jesus, what am I gonna tell her?'
Booth's mind raced as he tried to figure out how to get ahead of impending disaster. A thousand scenarios flashed through his mind at once, each worse than the one before it, until finally, somewhere in the back of his cluttered consciousness, he heard a voice, warm and raspy and infuriatingly logical and uttering a single word.
"Evidence."
That word, that voice - Brennan's voice – rang clear, echoed in his mind and drowned out his concerns and growing anxiety. Booth swallowed hard again, and the lump in his throat disappeared. Charlie was right. His inner Brennan was right. Panicking about this was pointless; until he knew the truth, the whole truth of the situation, there was no point in worrying about what Hacker was planning to do. Instead, it was best to just sit here and do the job in front of him and wait until he had evidence, real evidence, that Hacker was exactly the sort of lying douche bag he'd always thought he was.
A malevolent smile crept onto Booth's face as he realized that if he did find out that Hacker was trying to split them up, he would never even get a chance to kick the man's ass - Brennan would beat him to it. The malevolent smile turned into a vicious grin as Booth entertained thoughts of his Bones, venting her spleen on an unsuspecting Hacker.
Booth settled back in his chair, files in hand, as the comforting images of his partner kicking his boss's ass seven ways to Sunday flittered through his mind, and the soft sound of papers shuffling filling in the silent spaces of his office.
Sunlight gleamed off the chrome trim of the car in front of her, making her wish, yet again, that she'd not been rushed out of the house only to forget her sunglasses. Between the brightness of the early afternoon sun and the unusually heavy traffic Brennan's patience was wearing thin. Light flashed in her eyes and Brennan instinctively hit the brakes, cursing softly under her breath as a Government sedan cut her off, pulling into the Hoover's parking garage. She took a few seconds to calm down before following the black Crown Vic into the parking structure.
Brennan pulled into the first available space that wasn't in one of the 'danger zones' Booth had often lectured about. His over-protectiveness had once rankled her; she was more than capable of defending herself if need be, she was even capable of defending him - a fact he readily acknowledged, and the one that made loving him possible. For all his alpha maleness Booth wasn't like other men. He trusted her to support him; he relied on her in the field and in their friendship. More than that, though, he could accept the fact that she was more intelligent and successful without resenting her for it. Other men were so intimidated by her intelligence or her success, but not Booth. Nothing intimidated Booth, and that's why she loved him, that's why she could love him, because with him she could be herself.
A sudden, sharp, rap against her driver's side window jerked Brennan out of her thoughts.
"Temperance?"
She recognized her former paramour's voice and felt a sudden twinge of guilt.
"Temperance, are you alright?"
She turned to see the long face, high forehead, and watery look of concern that she'd come to recognize as Andrew Hacker's 'worried' face.
"I'm fine, Andrew."
Brennan felt foolish for having allowed herself to get so lost in thought, even more so now that she'd attracted Hacker's attention. Fueled by embarrassment, she grabbed the door release and shoved. Unfortunately for Hacker, Brennan was in prime physical shape and totally unmindful of his proximity to her car. She barely heard the dull thump.
"Crap!"
Hacker's shout drew immediate attention; while laughter probably wasn't the best first response to the situation, sarcasm was definitely worse.
"I've never cared for Starbucks either, Andrew, but I think that's taking things to an extreme." Brennan's laughter drew a sharp look, but did little to quell her enthusiasm. "What? I was simply making a humorous observation."
"Yeah, really funny."
"I agree, I am becoming quite amusing."
Hacker ignored her commentary and focused at the growing coffee colored stain that now covered the lower third of his tie and shirt, and the better part of his crotch. Of course focusing on the stain became that much harder to do when Brennan decided to help.
"Temperance?" Hacker's strained voice drew a moment of her attention. "W-what are you doing?"
Brennan tilted her head, her bemused expression speaking volumes as to just how much she must have overestimated the Assistant Deputy Director's intelligence.
"I'm trying to mitigate the worst of the damage from the coffee, Andrew," she said calmly. "Why, what do you think I am doing?"
Hacker's eyes narrowed and suddenly it all clicked into place for Brennan – his stained trousers, her crouching in front of him, the biological reaction his body was having to the vigorous manner in which she was rubbing his crotch, and the car door that partially obscured them both from a small crowd of passersby.
"Oh."
"Yes, 'oh'." Hacker brushed futilely at his wrecked tie. "Not that this isn't pleasant, Temperance, but I hardly think it's appropriate for you to be touching me like that anymore. After all, you and Booth are, you know..."
"Anymore implies that I ever touched you like that before," she said cuttingly. "And no, Andrew, I don't know. What exactly are Booth and I now?"
Her normally smoky voice had dropped several degrees, and Brennan was frozen in place, waiting for an answer.
Now Andrew Hacker was an honest man, mostly, and he'd be the first to admit – out of ear shot – that the sight of Temperance Brennan on her knees, her face upturned in eager anticipation, was one of his favorite fantasies. That wasn't what he saw, however, and the sight of a preternaturally calm Brennan squatting below him with her hand gripping his junk through a stack of soggy paper napkins and the sodden fabric of coffee stained slacks was enough to kill that fantasy for good. Of course the problem wasn't just what their current position was doing to his fantasy life, no, it was much worse than that. For Andrew Hacker was a man who'd come up the ranks of the FBI through superior political skill and an amazing ability to read people, and the sight of Brennan below him pretty much shot those skills all to hell.
"Together."
"Together? Explicate your meaning, please."
"You're dating. You and Agent Perfect Pants, the two of you are dating now," he grumbled.
"Why would you call Booth 'Agent Perfect Pants'?" Brennan asked, "and who says that we're dating?"
"Because everyone knows you're dating him, Temperance, and besides, I confronted him myself just to make sure." Hacker laughed humorlessly. "And have you seen the creases in that man's trousers? You could cut paper with them, I swear, and don't tell me it's his dry cleaner, because I've heard that one before. It's the suits he buys, how in the hell he can afford twelve hundred dollar suits on his salary is beyond me…"
"Andrew, focus!" Brennan's voice cut through Hacker's musings like a knife. "Yes, Booth is always presentably dressed and yes, he does devote an inordinate amount of effort in to looking his best, but that in no way diminishes the fact that you are also quite presentable, most of the time anyway."
Brennan's voice wavered, giving just the tiniest indication that she was fast losing her temper.
"Now, please tell me what else you heard about us, Andrew? And what did you mean about confronting him directly?"
Hacker hesitated, but Brennan's hand clenched, almost reflexively, over a very sensitive area of Hacker's anatomy, and quickly gave voice to all he knew, in a surprisingly bright contralto.
"Kissing!" he blurted. "I heard about the kissing, kissing in the office!"
Releasing her grip as she rose with a fluidity and grace that belied her anger, Brennan barely noticed that Hacker had nearly doubled over in relief. Letting out a shuddering breath, he continued to massage his injured pride.
"The whole building is talking about you two, and your secret on again, off again, relationship. I didn't want to believe it, I mean, you're not the kind of woman to cheat on a man, Temperance, and Booth is a standup guy, so when I asked him if you two were involved and he said no, I believed him."
"As well you should," Brennan nodded tightly. "Your assessment of Booth's and my behavior with regard to personal relationships is accurate. I do not cheat, nor does Booth, and neither of us is in the habit of lying about our relationship."
"Yeah, that's what I thought too, and it's not like I believe everything I hear about you two. I mean, if I did, I never would have thought to ask you out in the first place," he stood up slowly, a faintly pained expression lingering on his face. "So imagine my surprise when I hear about you putting on a show for Booth's bullpen."
"A show?"
"Of course, like I said, I don't believe everything I hear about you guys, I mean, you know how bad gossip can be at the Hoover," Hacker shrugged. "Still, I everyone was talking about it so I confronted Booth about the 'incident', and imagine my surprise to find out it's all true!"
"Of course, I imagine you were quite surprised..."
Brennan's voice trailed off as it became clear that Hacker was more focused on venting his growing displeasure than anything else.
"I mean, the very idea of you putting on public display of, well, what was described as a 'go for broke make out session' in the bullpen..." Brennan's cheeks pinked at Hacker's description. "And the entire time we were going out I had to practically beg for a quick peck on the lips. Well I guess I know why, don't I?"
"Wait, what?"
"And then when I confronted Booth, well, as you can guess he sure as hell wasn't happy about me poking my nose in, but what does he expect me to do? I mean, it's not just that I'm the other guy in this mess, I'm also his boss – if you two are together, fine, but if this was some sort of test or some weird way for the two of you to work out your issues, well I don't particularly like being made a laughing stock just so you can get your rocks off."
"Andrew, I-"
"And I sure as hell don't appreciate being lied to, not by him, not by anyone."
"But we didn't lie to you!"
"Really? So you didn't have an impromptu make out session with Booth in his bullpen, in front of a dozen agents?"
"Absolutely not." Brennan hesitated, "well it wasn't a dozen agents at any rate. And it was hardly a make out session, it was a kiss."
"Yeah, right. A kiss."
Brennan saw Hacker's arched eyebrow and realized he was already disinclined to believe anything she said, and then she noticed the fresh contusion stretching across his frontal bone and terminating just above the left supraorbital process.
"Andrew, if I'm honest with you, can I depend on you to be honest with me?"
"Absolutely, Temperance; after all, I'm not the one whose honesty is in doubt, am I?"
She ignored that remark, her hands gently cupped his face while nimble fingers slowly probed, her eyes noting every flinch and twitch of pain.
"Did you and Booth have a physical altercation over me? More specifically, my relationship with Booth?"
"Yes, but trust me, Temperance, it's really not as bad as it seems."
"Really, I think I'll be the judge of that," Brennan's voice was as cold and clinical as he'd ever heard it. "Now the truth, Andrew, just as you promised me – who started it?"
Booth had gone through the personnel records of the rookie agents only to find himself underwhelmed by what he read. Twenty-one files and only three were worth a damn if he was being honest. Twelve were baby agents straight out of Quantico who had no business working in any CID unit, three mid-life crisis's who'd come in from the insurance industry and were perfect for working the White Collar division's fraud unit and not much else, and three ex-military operators who barely managed to scrape by in Quantico and had personality profiles that made them perfect for the FBI's HRT teams. That left him with three viable candidates.
Booth looked down at the files on the top of the pile and shook his head in disgust, but resigned himself to play by the rules just in case. Booth picked up his phone and was about to make the first of his appointments when the door flew in, striking the stop so hard that it shook in its frame. His head shot up and there in the doorway was the tall, strikingly beautiful and definitely pissed off form of his partner with a half-dozen agents from his unit standing somewhere behind her.
"Please, come in," he deadpanned.
He could hear Brennan's labored breathing from across the room, her eyes were darting about to and fro, and there was the slightest twitch in her left hand that he knew meant business. He stood up quickly, his fingers resting on the edge of his desk as his eyes ran over her again.
"Bones, what is it? What's wrong?"
Brennan reached out carefully, swinging the door closed behind her. He swallowed at the dull click of the latch slipping into place - the sound was as loud and ominous as a church bell in the dead calm of his office.
A/N: As always, feedback is welcome...