Throat clearing.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just something caught in my throat."

More throat clearing.

"You alright over there, Bones?"

"Fine."

"You're not getting sick on me are you?"

"No."

Shifting.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you moving over there?"

"I just want some more space. A bit of, you know, breathing room."

Pause. "So just now you want breathing room?"

Uncomfortable shifting. "Yeah."

"Only right after I cleared my throat?"

"Mm."

"You're moving farther away because you think I'm sick and you don't want to risk catching whatever it is that I have."

"Ah, so you admit you're sick."

"I don't know if I'm sick. I was just clearing my throat."

"Come on, the great Dr. Brennan doesn't know if she's getting something?"

"I'm a PhD, Booth, not an MD."

"My point holds, Bones. Who was the one who announced I had flu to the whole squint squad a few months ago? Who was the one who looked at my bum tooth last year and told me what was wrong? You."

"First of all, it was obvious you had the flu, and second of all as a forensic anthropologist I have to know some odontology, so I could look at your tooth and tell you what was wrong with reasonable certainty."

"So you can't tell if you're sick?"

"It's too early for me to know."

"Yeah, right. Everybody knows when they're coming down with something. Especially doctors."

Teeth grit. "Fine. I feel a little...off."

"Off?"

"Yes. Not quite myself. There's a heaviness in my chest that I associate with early signs of upper respiratory problems."

"Do me a favor and sit over there then."

"No."

"No?"

"I'm your partner and we work together and likely if I am contagious you've already been exposed enough for our proximity right now to be a moot issue."

"You were willfully exposing me to whatever you've got?"

"Well, when you phrase it like that—"

"You didn't even warn me?"

"I knew you'd start avoiding me, and I didn't know for sure that I was sick. I still don't."

"I don't care. What if you get over it but I'm down for a week?"

"Out of the two of us, I'm the only one displaying symptoms, and they are mild. If anything, I am more likely to be out of commission for a week due to being sick, not you."

"Ugh. You know I hate being sick, Bones."

"And I take great pleasure in it?"

"I think I liked it better when you still thought sarcasm was unhelpful."

"I guess I just stooped to your level."

"That was low."

"Precisely my point."

Pause. "I'm moving over there."

"Then I'm moving with you."

"The whole point is to get farther away from you."

"Yes, and my point is that I will not allow you to move farther away just to satisfy your irrational fears over catching a disease I'm not even sure I have."

"A disease? Jeez, you make it sound like leprosy. I'm definitely moving."

Arm grab.

"Hey! This isn't fair. You can't keep me here."

"Yes I can."

"I have a gun."

"You wouldn't shoot me. Besides, I've flipped people over my shoulder twice your size."

"Yeah. You wouldn't flip me over either, Bones."

"Try me."

Glare.

"Fine." Sulky. "I won't move."

"Good."

Rustling.

Exhalation.

Page flip.

"You're reading?"

"What an astute observation."

"All that work to keep me here and now you're going to ignore me?"

"Well, not if you keep talking."

No reply.

"And, besides, it really wasn't that much work to keep you here. I just threatened you."

"I threatened you too."

"But we both know your threat is empty. You would never raise a gun to me."

"And you would raise your hands to me?"

"Technically I'd flip you with my whole body."

"We're not talking technicalities. You'd really do that to me, Bones?"

Pause. "I—couldn't really say."

"Seriously?"

Shifting. "Seriously, what?"

"You have to even think about it? You can't say 'no' automatically?"

"Well, I guess it just depends."

"On what?"

More shifting. "I wouldn't hurt you."

"But you'd be fine with slamming me to the floor?"

"I can't really imagine a scenario that would force me to, but...maybe."

"What?"

"If you didn't listen to reason."

"I'd listen to you."

"You don't always."

Pause. "You don't trust me."

"What? Where did you get that?"

"No. It's all coming together. When you asked if I'd ever betray you, when you always hesitate before telling me anything personal. You don't trust me."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. What about that trust fall he made us do?"

"It was mandatory. If you hadn't caught me, Sweets never would've let it go."

"You don't think I'd catch you on my own?"

"I think you would, but that exercise is much too simplistic. It's not really much of a test."

"Yeah, but it shows you trust me enough to stop you from falling. Come on." He gets up. "Let me catch you, Bones."

Irritated look.

"Please?"

"What if you drop me and I hit my head on something?"

"I'm not going to drop you."

"Just like you weren't going to drop my files?"

"You're still hung up on that. It's been two weeks."

"Yeah, and I spent an hour sorting them back together again."

"You wouldn't let me help."

"You probably would've just dropped them again and scattered them about even more."

"No I wouldn't. And, besides, we're not talking about papers, we're talking about you. I wouldn't let you fall."

Another irritated look.

"Come on, Bones. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could injure myself. And I thought you didn't want to get near me because you think I'm contagious."

"Oh, so now you want me to want to get far away from you?"

"Yes." Challenging smile.

"Well, maybe I'm coming around to your point of view. Maybe I've already been exposed enough that it doesn't matter."

"But maybe this one bit of contact will get you sick."

"I'll take my chances."

No reply.

"Come on." Slight pleading. "Please?"

"You just want to make yourself feel better by reassuring yourself that I trust you. What do I stand to gain?"

"Isn't it enough that you'll make me happy?"

Look.

"Or maybe that you'll have proof that you do trust me?"

"I want something more concrete."

Exasperated sigh. "Like what?"

Wolfish grin. "Your car keys."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You want to drive?"

"For the rest of the night."

Pause. Shifting. "Done."

"Truly?"

"Yes." Tosses car keys.

Catches. "You won't take it back?"

"No. Now you have to hold up your end of the bargain, Bones."

Exhale.

"Fine, give them back."

"No." Stands up. "This is silly."

"Yeah, but, you know, indulge me."

Turns around. Inhales.

Nothing.

"Come on."

Exhalation. "Fine."

Falls backward.

Catches her arms. Hikes her back up.

"See, you do trust me." Lingering touch.

"I just did it so I could drive."

"Even so, Bones."

"Whatever." Goes back to couch and sits.

No movement.

"Aren't you going to sit?"

"Um..."

"What?"

"I'm going to, uh, wash my hands."

Eye roll.

"I don't want to get sick, Bones."

"Fine. Go wash your hands if you truly think it will make any difference."

"What, did you do something as you fell?"

"Now who doesn't trust whom?"

"What did you do? Wipe your nose on my suit? Did you lick your hands or something?"

"That would be juvenile."

"You said it yourself. You're stooping to a low level."

"To your level. Unless you're admitting you'd practice that sort of behavior."

Pause. "I wouldn't."

"Then sit."

He does.

Pause.

"I'm getting this suit steamed and, you know, deloused."

"I don't have lice."

"Whatever you do have, I don't want it."

"You've made that very clear."

Leg-shaking. "I can't take it."

"Take what?"

Hops up. "Gotta wash my hands."

Watches as he practically runs from room.

Sighs.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Looks up. "What, Dr. Sweets?"

"Where's Agent Booth?"

"Washing his hands."

"Why?"

"He's concerned that being in close proximity to me will result in him getting sick."

"You're sick?" Step backward.

Pause. "Yes."

"With what?" Another step back.

Small smile. "Oh, uh, think it may be influenza. Angela had it before. She was sick for almost two weeks."

"Oh, uh, that's unfortunate." Very far away now. "She's better now?"

"Yes. Still has a bit of a cough, but otherwise..."

"You sure you're well enough to be in?"

"I don't see why not."

"Well, I do. If you're sick, you should be home resting or sleeping or eating soup or something."

"I see." Fake cough. "Excuse me."

"Yes. Let's reschedule."

"To when?"

"Whenever you're feeling better."

"I'll be sure to call you."

"No hurry. Bye."

"Bye."

Disappears back into office. Door shuts.

Predatory grin.

Goes back to couch and grabs belongings. Takes her partner's suit. Walks down hall and turns toward bathrooms. Opens door.

"Hey, our session has been moved."

Looks up from sink. "Really? To when?"

"Until I, uh, 'feel better.'"

Pause. "What did you do, Bones?"

"I just exaggerated my condition."

"You pretended to be sick?"

"Yes. I suppose."

Snort. "You're unbelievable."

"Just stooping to your level." Grin. "Would you like to go have an early dinner?"

"Sure. Where?"

"Sid's."

"Well, let's go."

"You should dry your hair off first." Gestures. "Take you're time. I'll meet you in the car."

"You're driving?"

"I'm driving." Lets door shut and walks away.