Déjà Vu Chapter 9

Déjà Vu Chapter 9

Author's Note: I have to say I'm immensely disappointed with the overall response this story's gotten. Especially considering that other stories with far less effort or believable characterisation get hundreds of reviews. I know I sound bitter, but in all honesty, that's how I feel. I put hours into writing each chapter, and I barely get any response at all.

So, for now, this story's on hiatus, despite how much I like writing it. I do it to write, yes, but I also do it to get feedback from the people who read it so I can improve. It takes barely more than three minutes to write a signed review. I know, I do it all the time.

You want me to keep going? Then review. Take a little time to feed back to someone who does something you enjoy.

Anyway, here's the chapter:

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

They were falling; the air rushing past so fast it was being snatched from their lungs. They only had each other, and clung together as if the other was their lifeline. Objects flew past: weapons, shredded items of clothing, canisters of some unknown material marked with a biohazard sign, even pictures of their friends.

There was no ground, nothing for them to touch down upon, nothing to slow their frantic, tumbling descent into the chaotic void around them. His lips were moving, but there was no sound other than the rushing wind and silent plea in his eyes. He wanted it to end too.

Bodies fell past them now, skeletal remains and mutilated corpses all. Slowly, she began to feel a sense of familiarity from each and every body. Names began forming nebulously in her mind, but every time they seemed within her grasp they drifted away like sand between her fingers.

The terror began building again, she knew not why. She felt pursuit, a malevolence and desire for her death that she had rarely experienced in her lifetime. Images flashed across her consciousness, fleeting snippets of her life from before all this. Herself, standing before a hot dog stand with her partner, then crouching, terrified as the vendor fell back, his face a gory mess. Herself again, fear etched upon her face and running through carefully tended grounds as plumes of dirt rocketed toward the sky around her body. Then she saw it, its smooth metal surface pristine and polished as he reached for it once again.

She felt the scream tear itself loose from her throat and thrashed in terror as the world dissolved into hellish flames, something constricting and stopping her from moving to save him.

"Temperance!" Her eyes snapped open and she sucked deep breaths of air into her lungs, her sapphire eyes wide and panicked as she stared into her partner's warm, caring orbs. "It's okay, we're okay," he soothed. She sobbed and clutched her fingers deeply into his hair, holding him as close as she could and allowing her senses to drown in his scent and the feel of his body against hers.

"We were-" she began.

"I know," Seeley murmured, his own face buried in the junction of her neck and shoulder. "I know," he said. One of his hands cradled her head gently, the other drawing soothing circles with his palm on her back beneath her top. The contact with his skin calmed her, and she felt her muscles relax as her temperature rapidly rose with a blush.

"Sorry," she whispered, attempting to draw back a little. As he was on top of her, she only managed to gain an inch or so. His eyes bored into hers, and she noticed the pallor of his skin. "You had it, too?" she asked. He nodded wordlessly, and released a shaky breath.

"Yeah," he said at length. "Guess we better get up," he suggested. Temperance tilted her head to look at the alarm clock on her bedside table and saw the time.

"Five a.m.?" she muttered. "Booth, we don't have to be in for hours," she said and tightened her grip. She realised that after the dream she didn't want to let him go and threaded her legs into his, trapping him. His face looked tense and he tried to rise again. "Stop being stupid," she muttered and snuggled down further, still feeling the odd world-tilting sensation she associated with the effects of alcohol in her system. He grumbled softly, but relented and relaxed, pulling her with him when he rolled onto his back. The pair drifted off into a fitful sleep, their bodies entwined together.

Angela trotted energetically around the corner of the Jeffersonian medico-legal lab, eager to reach the 'box room' and find out if her best friend and her hunky piece of man candy actually were from a long-distant future filled with gorgeous, brainy babies. She paused, realising that she was getting ahead of herself, but failed to wipe the wide grin off of her face when she spotted her favourite non-couple standing, heads together.

They looked in her direction, and she goggled in shock.

"Sweetie! What the hell happened to you?! You look like you could play a part in 'Thriller!'" she said. The comment brought a faint smirk to Booth's lips that quickly disappeared behind the gigantic cup of coffee he held protectively in his hands. From the deep circles on both his and Brennan's faces, Angela wondered if they were suffering from hangovers or if they had contracted some type of terrible disease.

"I don't know what that means," Temperance began, "but I sense I should be protesting." Her voice was shockingly quiet, and Angela gave her best friend a brief hug.

"Okay, what's up?" she said. Booth grunted and swallowed a heroic amount of his coffee.

"Bad dreams," he muttered. Angela looked at them both.

"What, both of you?" she said. They nodded in simultaneously. "I've got to tell Jack," she muttered. They shared one the looks she had seen them exchange recently, simultaneously amused and warning, and she frowned. "Okay, what? What is it?" Tiny grins grew on their faces and she felt herself getting annoyed. "Bren," she growled, coming off more cute than dangerous, "tell me," she pleaded. Their little grins grew into smirks and they turned and walked toward the 'box room,' leaving her standing on her own and stomping her foot in frustration.

"We're going to hell," Seeley muttered. Temperance reigned in a chuckle and settled for a mysterious smile that made her look like a seductive mental patient. Seeley bit his lip to muffle the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips at the thought, but was unable to contain the small snort that made his partner's piercing blue eyes slide toward him.

"What?" she asked, sounding curious and annoyed.

"Nothing," he said, desperately hoping she wouldn't press any further. She scowled.

"Booth," she warned, her slightly scratchy voice sounding like a growling Chihuahua. Unable to stop himself, Seeley giggled and then clapped a hand over his mouth, his wide eyes silently apologetic. "Tell me," she growled again. He guffawed.

"You sound like a Chihuahua," he giggled, frantically trying to stop. Men do not giggle, he chided himself. He winced when she slugged his arm painfully. "Jesus, Bones! Stop with the violence already!"

"You called me a dog!" she snapped. He sighed theatrically.

"No, Bones, I called you a Chihuahua, which is a small, cute little doggy."

"A dog!" she reiterated.

"Just take it that I called you cute, okay?" Seeley said. Her mouth opened, an angry retort on her tongue, then closed as a befuddled look settled across her face.

"Wha-?" she said.

"Oh, very eloquent, Bones," he teased as they entered the box room. He was saved further violence by the presence of the rest of the team, minus Angela, who appeared a minute later with an evil glare at the pair of them. Goodman stepped forward from his place by the box and eyed the pair's less than stellar appearance curiously before speaking.

"Let me point out, that this by no means is conclusive proof. Further study would be needed to ascertain whether or not this was a one off occurrence or not. That being said, we shall begin," he said. Jack and Zach eagerly leaned forward, attempting to discern the code, but Goodman foiled their attempts by covering the pad with his hand. "Mr Addy, Dr. Hodgins," he warned. Their faces fell and they leaned back, both crossing their arms childishly. Seeley suppressed a smile.

A high-pitched electronic beep sounded as the red light on the box's locking mechanism turned green and Dr. Goodman lifted the lid to retrieve both envelopes. He turned his dark gaze toward Brennan and Booth and raised an eyebrow. "If you would please recap for us all?" he said.

"It was Ken Thompson in his Tropical Fish room with a sledgehammer," Temperance said. Seeley found a grin tweak his lips.

"Nah, I say it was Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick," he joked. His partner frowned at him.

"I don't know what that means," she admitted. Zach also looked perplexed and opened his mouth to refute his claim.

"It's a joke, people!" Seeley exclaimed. "God, you people have no sense of humour!" he huffed. Goodman raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Hodgins and Angela.

"I resent that fact, Agent Booth," he said. "I have a very well developed sense of humour, and employ it in a variety of engaging and enjoyable encounters," he added. Angela nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, hear, hear!" she chimed. Seeley scrubbed his face in defeat.

"Alright, fine. Some of you have senses of humour," he said. "And can we get on with this, please?" Goodman looked as if he were fighting a smile, but nodded magnanimously and turned his attention to the envelopes. Temperance took the opportunity to make her displeasure known by stamping on her partner's toes. Seeley felt his eyes water from the pain and struggled to stay silent, finally allowing a pained little whimper escape his lips as he lent all his weight on his good foot. "Not cool, Bones!" he hissed. She arched an eyebrow at him smugly and he hung his head, feeling suitably chastised.

"It would appear that Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan are both either exceedingly good at piecing together the pieces of evidence in a very short space of time, or they are in fact in possession of a degree of foreknowledge as yet uncovered," Goodman said, his expression serious. His demeanour faltered slightly when Zach nearly tore the envelopes out of his hands, his eyes quickly speeding over the written statements.

Temperance felt her face heating up inexplicably when her assistant stared at her with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"It would appear that you and Agent Booth were correct, Dr. Brennan," he said, blindly passing the notes to Hodgins' eager hands. The entomologist read the notes quickly, his eyes widening.

"Cool," he breathed reverently, "this is completely awesome." Temperance exchanged a glance with her partner and shifted uncomfortably. "Hey, how far does this info go? Do you know who's the next president?" he asked gleefully. Temperance shook her head, her forehead creased in thought.

"I don't think so," she said. "Booth?" He also shook his head with a shrug.

"I got nothin', Bones," he said. Hodgins pouted in disappointment, but still looked thrilled with the success of the experiment.

"What do they say?" Angela asked. Jack grinned and handed over the notes cheerfully.

"Knock yourself out, Angela," he said. After a brief smile of thanks, her dark eyes flickered across her friend's handwriting.

The murder was committed by Ken Thompson in his Aquarium room with a rolled steel sledgehammer, it said. She glanced at Booth's note and smirked. Ken Thompson in the fish room with the sledgehammer. His Cluedo joke was much more amusing in hindsight, she reasoned.

"So now what?" she asked. Everyone glanced at each other and shrugged.

"I propose that, the next time Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth have a bout of déjà vu due to a case, that they inform me immediately. I will then take their written statements and lock them within the box before they speak to any of you on the matter. Agreed?" Dr. Goodman said. Everyone exchanged thoughtful looks and nodded in tentative agreement. "Excellent. Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan? A word, please," he said.

They followed him into the corridor and away from prying ears before he stopped and looked at the pair of them, his expression grave. "You are no doubt aware of the severity of such information should it fall into the wrong hands," he began. "Defending attorneys would have a field day about the agents who could 'predict the future' and pin the blame on their clients. I know you are two intelligent, perhaps very intelligent," he amended at Brennan's look, "people, but you cannot speak to anyone on this issue."

"We know," Temperance said simply, her face pale at the blunt statement of the possible consequences. "We both agreed before any of this started we must follow the evidence, no matter how much we know about anything happening." Seeley nodded his agreement, sliding his hand around to his partner's waist from its place on her lower back in support.

"Yeah. Playing by the rules," he said. Goodman nodded, releasing a sigh as he did so.

"That is something to be thankful for," he said. He gazed at the pair of them for a moment before motioning for them to follow again and heading for his office. When they arrived, he gestured for them to sit and did so himself, tenting his fingers pensively. "How bad is it?" he asked. At their looks, he elaborated. "This…déjà vu. For a normal person, just once, it could be disorienting, but you?" His dark eyes reflected only concern and they both felt relief that they might have someone else to speak to on the issue.

"It's hard," Seeley admitted grimly. "It can get so bad you just wanna hurl and lock yourself in a small, dark room just to make it stop."

"Knowing what someone will say even as they speak the first syllable is also not pleasant," Temperance admitted ruefully. "It's hard to find solace in anything that I would normally do," she said. "I look at a book I've just bought and not read and I already know its contents. Music sometimes brings a flood of sensation and…" she trailed off, remembering the nightmares.

"Nightmares," Seeley muttered with a grimace. Goodman blinked and sat forward intently.

"What do you mean?" he asked. The pair exchanged an uneasy look, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "Everything you say will be in confidence," Goodman assured. "I would be remiss in my duties if I saw an issue with an employee and did nothing to help." Temperance sighed, not wanting to relive the harrowing ordeal her mind subjected her to and closed her eyes.

"Dr. Goodman," Seeley began, "it's not you…it's just… the nightmares are…they're really screwed up, okay?" he said weakly. Goodman sighed again, but nodded.

"I would not expect you to confide something that distresses you so obviously, but my door is always open. Please remember that," he said. They nodded, relieved.

"Dr. Goodman," Temperance said, "thank you. For understanding," she added at his curious look. His usually stern expression softened significantly.

"This may surprise you, Dr. Brennan," he said, "but I tend to think of the staff here as something of a surrogate family. I will do everything that I can in order to ensure they remain happy. Productivity has nothing to do with it, despite appearances to the contrary," he joked gently. Temperance allowed a warm smile to grace her face as she stood and nodded.

"That's nice to know. We will come to you if we…feel anything about a case," she said.

"Thanks, man," Seeley added as he thrust his hands in his pockets. Goodman rose, his expression once more firm and somewhat aristocratic.

"You are both welcome. I won't take any more of your valuable time," he said smoothly. They nodded and left, feeling a little better. Goodman watched them go with a neutral expression before reclaiming his seat and rubbing his eyes tiredly. After a moment, he opened the top drawer of his desk and regarded a small mahogany rosary before lifting it into his hands.

You work in mysterious ways, Lord, he thought to himself as his jaw flexed. The situation was beyond his understanding, but something told him that whatever plagued Booth and Brennan's nightmares was big. He prayed Hodgins didn't catch wind of whatever it was, or he would never leave the duo alone to deal with it.

Temperance sat back on her couch with a sigh, something she was doing increasingly often as of late. She hated the despondent feeling that seemed to cloud her days in perpetuity, but aside from doing things that made her feel uncomfortable and out of her element, she found no solace in things she loved. Each limbo case was filled with little intuitions that easily led her to conclusions and results. While that meant that she knew the results of each case quickly, it also meant that she had to grind through the entire process tortuously in order to verify her feelings.

She likened it to putting her head in a vice and voluntarily tightening it with cheerful enthusiasm. She knew Booth was not having it any easier. He confessed to her the last time they had pie at the diner that work at the bureau was also similarly painful. He also said he could not say much without people getting suspicious of his 'intuition' and calling him on it and said that it was driving him crazy.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Temperance rose and padded to her kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine and a glass, returning quickly and pouring herself a generous measure. She swirled the red liquid around, savouring the heady aroma of the ingredients and pondered the strange turn in her life. She had always been perfectly content with her job and her lifestyle, yet now it seemed to bring nothing but grating monotony.

Unbidden, tears sprang to her eyes as she felt the joy she took from giving anonymous corpses their names and families back snatched away from her. She still felt the pleasurable sensation upon completing a case, but the getting there was agonising when all she wanted to do was give the answers she knew she would find.

When her grip on the glass become dangerously close to damaging, she set it down and brought a pillow up to her face, unleashing a muffled screech of frustration and pent-up rage. How could this happen to her? She wondered. It could well completely consume and destroy her life, and the constant drain she felt as people parroted the words she heard in her mind day after day was slowly but surely crushing her.

She sat, gulping deep breaths and struggling to maintain her composure in the wake of the realisations that had been forming ever since her discussion with Booth and Dr. Goodman the week prior when a knock at her door brought her head up with a startled jerk. Frantically she raced for the mirror and assessed her appearance, grimacing when she saw the red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks down her cheeks.

Not good, she thought, scrubbing quickly at her face with the sleeve of her blouse before moving to the door. A glance confirmed her suspicion and she opened the door to give her partner a wobbly smile.

"Hey, Booth," she said. His face was gentle, his dark eyes concerned and sympathetic as he gazed at her, taking in the splotchy cheeks and eyes bright with welling tears.

"Hey Temperance," he murmured softly. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?" he asked. She shook her head, her auburn hair bouncing slightly with the motion.

"No, it's too early to sleep," she said, glancing at her wall mounted clock that read 10:30pm.

"If you say so," he said, a faint smile curling his lips. She braved a smile, but it quickly withered and died. "You okay?" he asked, crossing her threshold and closing the door with a push. Her throat closed up and she tried to nod, even as her vision blurred.

"'M not crying," she pointed out, struggling to keep her voice even.

"Something in your eye?" he asked, stepping closer. Her head rose and fell in a nod as she drew an unsteady breath.

"Yeah," she muttered. He slung an arm around her shoulders and guided them to the couch.

"Tell me about it," he said, "had that myself today." A few tears trickled down her cheeks as she blinked at him.

"Really?" she said, not quite believing him. He leaned back into her couch and eyed her glass of wine.

"Really," he muttered bitterly. "You mind?" he asked, gesturing to the glass. Her head shook and he downed the glass in two large gulps. "Yeah. Today's not been fun," he whispered. "What do you do when the thing you love feels like a chore?" he asked after several minutes of silence. A sob broke free of her control before she could stop herself and she felt her body shudder.

"It's not fair!" she hissed, suddenly consumed by a fiery anger. He nodded, his expression despondent.

"No, it's not," he agreed. "If I could do what my instincts keep telling me, I'd have nabbed half the bad guys in DC this week. Instead I get to offer 'suggestions' and watch as they keep killing people while everyone else chases after their tails." Temperance saw the cushion in his lap crumple in his powerful grip, the muscles of his jaw jumping furiously. Her anger evaporated, leaving her feeling drained once more, and she laid her head on his shoulder. She felt him relax beneath her cheek and allowed herself to concentrate on the warmth of his skin.

"What do we do?" she asked softly. His arm settled across her back and began making soothing circles on her skin.

"I don't know. Plough on, I guess," he said. Her eyes drifted closed at the pleasant sensation.

"That doesn't sound like us," she muttered. His torso hitched in a deep chuckle at her words.

"No, it doesn't. What else can we do, though? We say anything and I lose my job or get put into mandatory therapy and our partnership goes down the drain. Then where will we be?" he said. Temperance felt her chest constrict at the thought and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Alone," she said, her words almost inaudible. She heard his breath pause before continuing.

"Never," he growled. She felt his finger lift her face toward his and the determination she saw there momentarily shocked her. "I can't do this alone, Temperance," he whispered, a sudden deep-seated spark of fear showing in his chocolate depths. Temperance allowed a warm smile to flicker across her lips as she drew herself up and wrapped her arms around him.

"Me either," she muttered. He was her lifeline, her rock. The only one who understood how it felt. "Together?" she asked, hating the waver that appeared in her voice. His was low and firm as he replied.

"You and me against the world, Bones. Forever," he said. They fell asleep clutching each other as if they were drowning.