Chapter Seven

That Little Voice in the Back of Your Head

She was quiet. Too quiet.

Ever since Bones had gotten back from her "vacation," she had been too quiet. Not that she didn't talk. She did. She just didn't say anything. At least nothing that didn't pertain to bones. She had taken one look at the remains found at the construction site, sighed, and gave him a long, hard glare.

"A first year-grad student could have told you that this John Doe died as a result of a fall. Not blunt force injuries. Not a stabbing or a shooting." Then she had turned on her heel and headed back for her office.

And Booth really hadn't gotten a lot out of her since.

To say he was concerned was putting his state of mind mildly. It wasn't like Bones to keep her own counsel. At least not with him. He had tried to reach out to her. Pie at the diner? No. Dinner at Wong Foo's? She was too busy. For a while Booth figured she was just pissed because she came back from Barbados a few days early.

A week passed. Then two. A few trips out in the field, and still not a whole lot out of her that didn't pertain to a case and some bones. The silences between them were stretching out for longer and longer periods and these were lonely silences. Not the comforting quiet that they had known before between them – the kind where even though there isn't a whole lot to say, they both knew that subconsciously they were still communicating…thinking…hashing things over. These silences were nearly deafening. These were the I'm-not-talking-to-you-because-I-really-don't-want-to deadly silences.

She wasn't talking to him because she didn't want to. And for the life of him, he couldn't understand why. No wait, maybe that wasn't true. Booth was far too perceptive of human nature and body language to swallow that. She wasn't talking to him because on some level, she was angry at him.

But for what? A shortened vacation? Even that didn't make sense.

"What's the matter with you?" he finally blurted out one afternoon when they were driving from the scene of a new case back to the Jeffersonian.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Booth paused to adjust his sunglasses and his attitude. If he was snippy with her, she'd clam back up on him. "I mean," he continued in a softer tone, "you haven't really had a whole lot to say since you came back from vacation."

"Booth, what do you want me to say? I came back early for nothing, really. Am I supposed to be happy about that?"

He waited a beat as he turned the corner. "But you were gone nearly three weeks…"

"Actually, it was more like two."

"Still. That's a week longer than I get."

Anger rippled through her like a living thing. Deception, deceit, and now this condescending attitude. "Did you think you were doing me a favor?" Icicles dripped from her words.

And hit him in the chest. She really was mad that he had talked her into coming home early. "You didn't have to come, you know," he growled out in a low tone. If she could be mad, so could he.

"I beg your pardon?"

A green light edged out to yellow and then red as Booth slowed to a stop and turned slightly to face his partner. "I said, you didn't have to come, you know? You didn't have to leave Barbados early. You could have just told me to work with Jack and Sidney and you'd see me in two more weeks."

Another ripple of anger. Temperance felt a flush build from her breasts up through her neck and finally hit her checks. "And you didn't have to lie," she bit out.

"I didn't lie."

"The hell you didn't. You told me if there was anything suspicious about those bones, you wanted me on the case."

Booth shifted uncomfortably and glanced back toward the traffic signal as Bones' anger reached its tentacles out for him and squeezed his conscience. The red light glared back at him like an evil eye. He was fully convinced that this was the longest red light in Washington, DC, and made a mental note to contact the DC Division of Traffic and Safety on the FBI's behalf. "I did?"

If backed into a corner by a woman who is obviously smarter than you are, plead ignorance.

"You did." Temperance took a deep breath and calmed herself before continuing. "Cam said there was nothing abnormal about the bones. You yourself said the find looked recent."

"I said I didn't know for sure…"

She gave him a hall-of-fame eye roll before continuing again, this time in a still lower voice. "You know enough by now that you can tell if the remains are fairly recent or old. You also can tell if there's foul play. The light's green, Booth." Temperance nodded towards the now unoffending traffic signal.

Booth sputtered for a moment as he accelerated through the intersection and pulled into the Jeffersonian's parking lot, cursing her ability to stay focused, carry on an argument, and be aware of her surroundings. He could do all that, too…just not when she was around…and not when they were fighting.

Fighting. They were fighting, right? His gut said yes. His head told him that he didn't like it. His heart told him it would be a smart thing to smooth things over fast. "But you're the bone expert, Bones. I value your opinion." He pulled his shades off and flashed a charm smile at her.

There was that ripple again. Temperance quickly pressed the release on her seatbelt and got out of the car.

"Maybe….just maybe you should value the truth more," she retorted before she slammed the car door and stalked inside the Jeffersonian.

Alone.


He hadn't followed her in. As a matter of fact, he had throw his SUV in reverse and made it back to the FBI building in record time. He had a desk full of paperwork facing him. This seemed like a good afternoon to get to it.

Except for the fact that his attention was elsewhere. As a matter of fact, his mind was about a half a mile away in another colossal brick building. Mentally he could picture her there, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, blue lab coat buttoned down her front, her eyes peering at the remains on her table, and her mind totally wrapped up in this new case.

She always called him when she had answers. Booth checked his cell phone again. Nothing. But of course, they hadn't been called out into the field until after lunch. Most likely she wouldn't have answers until mid-day tomorrow. And after their little fight in the car, he was pretty sure she wouldn't be calling before then.

Little fight? Those tentacles squeezed his conscience again and the voice in his head sounded a whole lot like Angela. Don't fool yourself, Booth. It was an argument. A full-out, in-your-face argument.

Okay. It was an argument. A fight. A big one. Another squeeze. She's mad.

No, Booth corrected. She's pissed. She's jumped right over mad and angry to pissed.

Okay, his conscience corrected itself again. She's pissed. What are you going to do about it?

I don't know.

Another squeeze. This one was a little harder. Hard enough that Booth felt the pressure behind his eyes. Yes, you do.

I do?

Squeeze. Don't play dumb with me, Seely Booth. It was definitely Angela's voice. I've known you too long. You're going to have to apologize.

For what? Wanting to be sure all my bases were covered on a case?

You. Are. An. Idiot. First class, A-rated dumb ass. If you think she's mad at you for interrupting her vacation, think again. If she didn't really want to come back early, she would have told you to shove it.

Then why's she so mad at me?

Jesus. Can you be so stupid?

Enlighten me.

You lied to her. On purpose. Twice. Outright lied. Deceived, duped…

Okay. I get it.

What are you going to do about it?

Daffodils?

Nope. Flowers ain't gonna cut it, Big Boy.

Dinner?

You really think she'll go out with you now?

Booth rubbed his face. Apologize?

Bingo! You can be taught! And I suggest on both knees…