Title: Lost and Found

Disclaimer: Not mine. No infringement intended.

Rating: Still T, folks – but there will be a saucy M, soon.

A/N: Well, thankfully I have found some time to write. If I won the lottery, the first thing I'd do would be giving up work! Let me know what you think of this, and if you think I'll be a sustainable story.

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James replaced the magazine in his weapon and fired three shots, missing his target entirely. Behind him, Dave McClemmons chewed on a stick up gum, propped against the wall with his usual silent brooding.

"Concentrate," he demanded, his dark eyes watching swaying target with unspoken disapproval – while aiming for the head, James had shot the target's groin, twice and his right arm once. "Your aim is atrocious today." James leaned forward, resting his arms on the bench.

"Man," he sighed, "my head is all over the place." Booth cleared his throat, rolling the gum between his teeth, quite certain that whatever had James' head in a spin was something he didn't need to know about. "Have you seen the new girl in town?" James turned the weapon over in his hand, running his fingertips over the cool metal, his eyes downcast.

"I've seen her," Booth said, removing his own weapon, willing himself to change the subject. But suddenly, inexplicably, he was perversely interested in what had transpired between them. "Lady from D.C. right?" James nodded.

"Right. Hey, you're from that neck of the woods, aren't you?" Booth shrugged easily, removing the safety lock on his gun and turning to the second target that seemed to beckon his attention. Back home, the firing range was often his only source of release. That and the gym. "She's been on my mind, dude. The other night, right, I went to her room, she was wound up like a spring… like… man, she was tense," Booth aimed his weapon, his shoulders so tight he thought his muscles might explode, "so I ask her if she wants to… you know?" He did know, and his finger squeezed the trigger, popping to bullets through the target's heart. "Wow," James said, momentarily distracted, "you won't miss when you aim, do you?" Booth threw a sideward glance, his jaw tight.

"Concentrate James, get the lady out of your mind and focus on the target." The door slid open, a narrow beam of concentrated light slipping across the darkened floor. He blinked, turning with James and holstering his weapon.

"Temperance!" James said, striding across the floor, his grin wide. She stiffened when his arms slid around her waist, pulling her against him. Booth averted his gaze, reeling the target it, and replacing the cardboard man. "How are you?" Brennan slipped from his embrace, a tight smile stretched across her weary features.

"I'm fine. I was hoping to find a man here who can teach me some shooting techniques…?" Booth turned to her, his eyes narrowed, watching how her crystal gaze met his with a steely sort of determination that was still prickly at best. "Daniel McClemmons? Hi there," she said, brushing past James, thrusting her hand out. It was comical, had it not carried such a dangerous undertone. "Temperance Brennan. Think you can show me how to use one of these, then?" He cleared his throat.

"I've twenty minutes left with James here, but afterwards, sure…" She dipped her head once, curt, probably a little to brisk for having apparently just met him. But their hands, still shaking, felt hot with the chemistry and he felt almost guilty that they were playing their game in front of James. Almost.

"Well, thank you," she said, dropping her hand. "I will wait on you, then." She retreated to the corner, sitting on the bench, her long slim legs folded, evoking the kind of temptation that shouldn't have been allowed. Did she think it was wise, playing the game she was playing? Why was she there? To prove that she had fucked James good and proper? He didn't believe it. Not for a minute.

James hit ever target, subsequent to her arrival, and Booth was certain that he had adapted a macho bravado. However else would he impress the beautiful Temperance, if he didn't ensure the bullets hit their mark every time? Booth nodded, as though he were pleased with the progress.

When their time was up, James offered to wait an hour while he coached his newest recruit. Temperance assured him she would meet him back at his father's lodging later, and reluctantly, with doe eyed attachment, he left, a spring in his gait that made Booth's teeth clench with unparalleled annoyance.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a growling tone when he was sure James was out of earshot. He refused to meet her gaze, to become part of the twisted charade she wanted to play. She could have found where he lived, if she wanted to talk with him in private. But she wanted to stir his senses – she wanted to fuck with him.

"Seeking satisfaction," she said easily. "Isn't that what your ego wants to hear? That James didn't do me right? I'm not unfamiliar with your vulgar sex terms." He chuckled without mirth, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the weapon in his hand. "Well?" She pressed.

"Well what, Temperance?" he said, as though he were bored. "Maybe you're not here for sex today, but eventually you will. It's inevitable." She huffed, either insulted and infuriated. He didn't care which. The truth was, he was too far in love with her to feel anything but anger towards their situation – towards her inability to understand his reasons.

"Maybe you're right…" she said at last. "Maybe no one will ever do to me what you did. But hey, I don't have you anymore, do I? Or I never did." He sighed, turning to face her, finally relenting and lifting his eyes to her lovely blue ones. When he took too long to answer, she shook her head. "I almost died, Booth…" He growled.

"Is that why you're here, Bones? To persecute me for putting my son first? He's a child, how is that so difficult to understand? If I get shot, he's an orphan. Do you remember how that felt?" She folded her arms.

"You're killing me, Booth. I just want to be touched by you, but I can't forgive you. I can't." He shrugged.

"I can't touch you until you do. And I can't touch you until you tell James that he's not your type. I'm not that kind of man, Bones." She wondered how he could pretend to be so noble, when he'd slipped out of her bed like a criminal and disappeared to Montana without even a goodbye.

"You want to touch me, though," she countered.

"Yes I do," he agreed, packing away his weapon. "But until you understand the importance of my son, I cannot possibly see…"

"Okay, Parker comes first. I'd like to meet him. Before I go home."

"When will you be leaving?" Booth asked, their bodies close enough to feel the radiating heat.

"When I stop loving you. So, shall we make a 'meeting Parker' date?"

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Parker, who tore them apart, will bring them together. You'll see.