Author's note: As ever, thank you to Mickey Boggs for being such a great help with this chapter.
Note number two (because author's notes are like cherries) I have upped the rating on this story- mostly because things are getting a bit out of hand with language and the violence. So while I'm at it, these may not be the only things escalating.
Also, thank you to those of you still with me on this story. Thank you for reading and commenting. It means a lot when you chose to press the button at the end of the text and let me know what you think. It really does.
Jane
***********
7.
Brennan stood still in the middle of the street unsure whether to come or go. She wanted nothing better than to walk in on him and screw up his little date with Miss Congeniality, Miss Always Says the Right Thing. She wanted nothing better than to interrupt his stupid little date and break as many dishes as she could find on Agent Perotta's head. Or better still: his head. And then beat the crap out of him just for good measure. Just because he had asked her out for dinner and then forgot all about her as soon as busty little Perotta showed up.
It wasn't really Perotta's fault. It was her own. All her own. She had waited too long. She had known that Booth felt something a bit more than partnerly affection. But his line, his stupid, stupid line fed all of her old self doubts, her small pockets of self hatred, her fears until they had taken over her and her actions. She had waited too long. Where was the Temperance Brennan who had trekked the Himalaya, faced drug lords in Colombia and the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia? She should have kissed him. She should have had the guts to tell him to stuff his ridiculous line somewhere where the sun doesn't shine and kissed him. If she had, he wouldn't be now sitting with Agent Perotta's blond hair, and Agent Perotta's pink lipstick and Agent Perotta's nicely polished nails and her pink sweater and, she was absolutely sure, tiny little feet and pleasant laughter, sharing with her a dinner that he had promised her, that rightfully belonged to her.
A stitch in time, wasn't it? Or a kiss.
Temperance Brennan walked home. Alone.
*****
She was busy nursing her own sentimental wounds when her phone rang. She took one look at the caller ID. Booth. She decided, though her throat closed up on her, that she was not going to take the call. She did not want to make him excuse himself for not going to dinner with her. So she tossed a cushion on the phone to drown out the sound and avoid temptation at the insistent ring. And she should have known better. She should have known that he would just use the spare she had given him for emergencies and let himself in when she did not answer. She should have known. It knocked the wind out of her when he barged into her kitchen unannounced.
"Bones, are you OK?" He walked straight to her as in her haste she banged her head against one of the kitchen units.
"Well, I was before" came the muffled reply as she held on to her head.
"Let me see that" He said with some impatience as he tried to pull her into a stool.
"No! I'm OK, just..." But the words were dying out as he held her head steady and looked for any signs of blood where she had hit the furniture.
"Just what, Bones? Leave you here to die with a concussion?"
"Oh, you are so dramatic Booth. I hit my head, that's all. Now stop! You're making me dizzy." And she walked to the freezer to get some ice that she wrapped in a cloth and applied to her throbbing head under his intense gaze. "And what are you doing here? I thought YOU had a case..."
"Bones, are you still upset about that?" No reply came from her. "You ARE still upset about that... well, it's not like I'm cheating on you or anything" There was an awkward silence for a second that seemed to stretch for an eternity while she considered that yes, that was exactly what he was doing and he thought that it felt exactly like that, like he was sneaking out behind her back. Booth recovered first.
"Anyway, you told me you'd make me snickerdoodles for dinner." He flashed her his charm smile.
"Didn't you have dinner already?" She bit her bottom lip at the indiscretion she had nearly let out. "It's late and I don't want to cook now"
"Well, it's a good thing I brought you food, then. Is that any way to show gratitude?" She wanted to stay mad. Mad was safe. She failed.
"What did you bring?" she mumbled through stubborn, defensively gritted teeth, shadows of a smile starting to play around her mouth.
"Do I get snickerdoodles or not?"
*********
The shadows moved with the southern wind in the near absolute darkness of the moonless night. The solid baseball bat taped impatiently against the loose soil of the flower bed. Thud, thump, thud, thump, waiting, almost patiently. The night moved, giving way to the shaft of light of the headlights of a car. The bat stopped its thud thumping, quieted down in eager anticipation. And when the windshield fogged up, the hand that held the bat knew that it was time, that satisfaction was there to be had.
********
Being young and in love- two things you take for granted. A girl- always average, until she fell in love with the right guy, kissed her boyfriend, grateful for the privacy of the night. It was hell to share a room and an apartment. No chance at all of stealing a few minutes of intimacy. And when you are young there are needs that are pressing, demanding. Vital.
The man sitting next to her was proud of two things in his life- his car- that he had worked his fingers to the bone for- and the girl sitting next to him. Driving that car and having that girl in his arm made him special, happy. Alive for the first time in his life.
When the knock on the window of the passenger's side came, he was more annoyed than scared. Public park- federal park, what could go wrong? Then it occurred to him that if it was a cop on duty, he could potentially face a fine- which was more than he could afford. But the window was steamy, the warmth from inside contrasting with the winter still outside, and he couldn't see anything. The pretty girl with the pretty smile and the flushed cheeks opened the window and her face was hit by a baseball bat, a shiny, polished baseball that was covered in blood the moment the impact transformed into reaction and her head lunged forward to hit the dashboard. He thought, vaguely, that he wished he had an airbag. Her sweater, her lovely white sweater that clung to her form was splattered with red, blooming with red like a bad video game.
He looked at the baseball bat, propped happily against a shoulder making its way through to his side and he knew then that it was the end. He looked straight into a pair of blue eyes- ice cold, small in a face twisted by a joy he had never seen in his whole life. He had always wondered if he would be brave when death came for him. He lowered the window and waited for the final blow, wondering how it would feel, to know he was taking his last breath.
***********
Orgasms could be measured like earthquakes. All those literary quacks were right in doing it. There were the point 1 in the scale, nothing more than a silent ooh, a slight shiver, and there were the earth shattering, building levelers, tsunami raisers of orgasms. This was about a 4 out of 10. Not bad for a mid-week, but the weekend would have to be better.
The boy had stayed in his seat, opened the window for him, for Christ sake! What the hell was that all about? Not even a mad dash trying to make a run for it. He liked it when they ran. He liked hearing their little hearts straining to pump more blood, to give more speed. The bat had still plunged forward, had still done its job, but its shine had been slightly tarnished by the indifference to death, to him, to his job in life, his mission. His breath hitched in anger.
He polished the bat in a caress like movement. We'll do it better next time, baby, I promise.
****************
Brennan opened the door before he even rang the bell. She had heard Booth's springy steps up the stairs. He never took the elevator. Man of action. He gave her a radiant smile.
"Trade you coffee for the rest of the snickerdoodles" and he handed her the paper cup already making his way towards the kitchen and the cupboard he knew she had stored the snickerdoodles in.
"Fine, help yourself. I'll be in my room getting dressed." She tried to sound annoyed. He opened the plastic container and popped a snickerdoodle in his mouth. Ah, the simple pleasures of life. After a moment hesitation, he picked up a small plate and put three of the little cookies on it and followed Brennan to her room. He knocked but opened the door in a near simultaneous movement getting an eyeful of her bare back as she shrugged out of her pajama top.
Momentarily stunned into stillness, he was brought back by her indignant Booth that always snapped him back into action.
"Sorry, Bones, I brought you some uh... snickerdoodles. You should have some, these are great, you know... very soft". He would have plowed on, his mind stuck on a loop like a scratched record. But his tongue stuck to his suddenly dried mouth as she turned to him, covered only in the pajama top now held in her hands and covering only her breasts- barely.
"Oh, well, thank you..." She looked around for a place for the plate. She pointed at the bedside table where her coffee was already waiting. "You can put it there, please"
Booth considered his options. To do as she asked, he would have to get past her- near naked as she was- through the not nearly wide enough space between her bed and the wall. He looked at the plate at the end of his outstretched arm pointedly, willing her to take the plate and save him from himself. Brennan responded with a glance of her own, to her own breasts and the pajamas that covered her. Booth swallowed hard.
"It'll wait for you in the kitchen... you'll leave crumbs here, anyway..." And he closed he door behind him, trying hard not to run.
She made into the kitchen barely five minutes after his embarrassing march into her bedroom, fully dressed, hair, accessories and perfume all in beautiful, perfect order. It took him as much time and he was sure he had much less to worry about- appearance wise- than she did. He was impressed by her efficiency.
"Where are my snickerdoodles?" He handed her the plate silently. She sat next to him in the sofa and relaxed with her coffee in hand.
"How's Jared?"
"In trouble, Bones... In a whole lot of trouble..."
"What's wrong this time?"
"Court Martial, Bones." That she did not expect. She had thought about another DUI or assault, but not that. And then she knew it, in her heart she knew Booth would blame her for that. His precious little brother was in trouble for taking the steps to help free him from the Gravedigger, but it had been she who had asked, well, bullied Booth's little brother into helping. And she had forgotten all about him as soon as she had Booth safely in the helicopter. Booth was never going to forgive her for that if he found out. When he found out, she corrected herself. Not in a million years.
To give herself time, she did something out of character: She switched on the TV. CNN came up with a live broadcast. The reporter was standing in a park, beautifully illuminated by the morning light. With a sense of urgency, the young woman reported on a crazed and frenzied attack on its unsuspecting victims, a man and a woman that had been found in their car, fatal wounds to the face. Booth froze, then swore loudly.
"Shit! Those freakin' vultures..." His tirade was halted by the insistent ringing of his cell.
"Yeah, I saw it on the news." Brennan knew immediately who it was on the other line. She looked at the screen, than at Booth and decided she was going wherever he was going. "Yeah, I'm on my way"
He slipped the phone into his pocket and grabbed his things, leaving the coffee cup on the table.
"I'm sorry Bones. Gotta go. Two more bodies. That son of a bitch!"
"Let's go, I'm ready" He turned on his heels" It took him nearly two seconds to process the reply. She was not going anywhere. That was not their case. It was his case.
"No!"
"Booth, I can help. Let me help, please" He was going to say no. But then he saw the pleading eyes.
"Fine!" And he walked out the door, his stride showing he was not happy with the turn of events. "But you stay back. This is Perotta's case, Bones, not ours."
"Fine". It was not so much a reply as a hiss. And it was worrying. He was going to have to keep an eye on Bones.
