[A/N: So very glad it's Friday. I'm missing Bones on TV but very grateful to have fanfiction to read!
I really am impressed with the depth and the extent of your reviews here. Thank you so much for letting me know what you think and for keeping me on my toes!
I don't own BONES or Booth (sigh), but I'm an adoring fan.
When we last left our dynamic crime-fighting duo, they had been interrupted while ogling one another. Yeah, we're gonna pick up right there….]
Chapter 10: The Extent of the Enmity
It took the entire reservoir of Patterson's professional experience for her to avoid blatantly glaring at Brennan. She shouldn't have been surprised to find the woman stuck like glue to Seeley. She supposed that's part of the reason she was so upset. She'd overlooked that possibility. She seldom overlooked any possibility. There were guards right outside. It wasn't like Seeley to be indiscreet. The fact that he was sleeping with his partner and not hiding that fact was disturbing and unexpected. In addition to being an annoying complication in her plans to seduce her former lover, Brennan was causing Seeley to take professional risks and she was throwing Patterson off her game. Besides, she should have been the one there with Seeley distracting him from his worries in ways that would ease her own libido.
Brennan continued to stare silently at Patterson as if her death-ray glare might vaporize her. She made no secret of her distaste for the woman and her disapproval of her presence. She could surmise that the woman had mistaken impressions about the relative state of undress of the partners, and she was surprisingly comforted by the awkwardness of that misconception. She'd let Booth explain that they hadn't just finished making love passionately. Or not. As soon as that thought registered, she purposefully moved closer to him so that Patterson would have to face the sight of them together in relative undress.
Part of her wanted to drag Booth back to his room and do that — make love to him passionately - just so that he couldn't explain to Patterson that he and she were only partners, simply friends. She felt as if she'd crack into pieces if he chose that moment to say those very words. Disturbed by those thoughts but stubbornly refusing to voice them, Brennan stood glaring at the agent who was taking too long to brief them on the case.
"Fallon, what happened?" Booth demanded, taking a step closer to her to encourage her to blurt out the news.
"The heart in the backpack belonged to Ms. Juarez. We just got confirmation."
"We had anticipated this news, Agent Patterson. Surely you could have called to tell us...," Brennan began. This was obviously a ruse by Patterson to visit Booth in his apartment — probably in an attempt to seduce him.
"There's more, Dr. Brennan. There's been another murder."
"Out with it, Patterson. We need specifics," Booth half-growled.
The Terror in the Twelve-Year-Old
Lance Sweets had spent the afternoon and early evening trying to get inside the head of a serial killer. Abnormal psychology was fascinating, but applying that and other disciplines to the minds of people bent on killing was truly exhausting. He'd been following the case of the Taker since the team had determined that a serial killer was at work. Unfortunately, most of his work had to be thrown out now that the killer had begun obviously stalking Booth.
Exhausted, Sweets had picked up takeout on the way home and eaten in his car in the parking lot. His appetite sated, he was now on a mission. Rest was what he needed - badly. He'd shower and collapse into bed. Nothing would stop him from doing those two things quickly.
After pulling his car into the garage and entering his home, however, Sweets had found temporary reserves of energy. He'd gone around the place locking all of his doors and windows carefully. Cases like this always gave him the creeps. He knew there were agents watching his home and standing guard, but he figured that making sure the doors were locked made sense. Plus, he got a chance as he checked the mail to wave at the agents to make certain they were paying attention. They had been.
Yawning, he'd taken the mail into his kitchen and placed it on the counter. He hadn't expected a package, so his curiosity had been piqued by the box about the size of a child's shoe box in his mail.
After fishing scissors out of a drawer across the room, Sweets cut open the paper and unwrapped the box. Still having no idea what it was, he opened the box slowly. Perhaps it was a gift from Daisy. They'd spoken occasionally since her return to the states. Sighing, he shrugged off that idea. It was probably some Star Trek memorabilia he'd ordered online months ago and forgotten about.
It took him a long moment after lifting the lid off the box to move. He'd been truly horrified to find what had to be a human brain in a gallon plastic bag inside the box. Even an internal psychologically-trained pep talk hadn't stopped his hands from shaking. Finally calm enough to trust his voice, he called Rackley and told him that he might have received a package from the Taker. No, there hadn't been a vice inside, and the box didn't contain a heart. But Sweets knew no one else who'd have sent him a human brain.
After reporting the package, Sweets called the agents over and they wrapped the package carefully for transport back to the lab taking a weary psychologist with them. Sweets didn't need self-analysis to know that he'd have volunteered to go with them even if they hadn't insisted that he do so. He was now terrified of staying home alone.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
"Dr. Sweets is not a scientist. The story you've recounted provides us with no evidence that this package was sent by the Taker...," Brennan began.
"There was a note," Patterson said, watching a shadow fall over Booth as he realized that another person had been murdered because he hadn't yet found the damned Taker.
Booth walked over and smacked a fist hard against a wall in his frustration. Normally, Sweets would be there encouraging him, telling him that the Taker's bolder, more frequent kills were a sign that he was losing his cool and that he'd slip up. He knew himself that was usually the case. But he couldn't be sure that his twelve-year-old therapist would be able to calm down enough to help profile this wacko. The fact that the creep had tried to send a message through his shrink was distressing. Booth was worried for the kid, and he also felt violated—he had no idea who'd be the next target. He felt that anyone he knew might be caught in this freak's cross-hairs.
"What did the note say?" Brennan asked, moving closer to her partner and offering him the t-shirt they'd both long-since forgotten. He shrugged it on and sat on the sofa staring at the floor waiting for Patterson to tell them the latest.
"The note blamed Dr. Sweets. Called him a failure. Told him he'd failed to fix all that was broken about you, Booth," Patterson said, glancing at Brennan in a subtle attempt to signal her to let her know that she hadn't told them all about the note and that she was planning to spare Booth all of the details.
"Tell us. What else did it say?" Brennan demanded of her, realizing that Booth needed to know the extent of this killer's hatred of him. Maybe there was a clue in the message that only Booth could find.
Patterson looked as if she was fully prepared to take a swing at Brennan for forcing her to explain the rest of the letter in front of the man it had discussed. Knowing that Booth would now demand that she tell him, she sighed and continued, "It said that you don't care about the victims of crimes. It said that you take too long to solve cases and that people suffer because you're incompetent," Patterson said quietly.
"I'm sorry, Booth," Fallon whispered, hating the wince she saw on Seeley's face. "We all know this is just some sicko trying to mess with you. Don't let it bother you."
In true defense mode, Brennan spoke before Booth could respond, "Thank you for giving us this news. I trust that the FBI is taking care of Dr. Sweets and that the letter and the brain are being sent to the lab for analysis," Temperance said, standing as if to indicate that Patterson was being dismissed.
Annoyed but undeterred, Patterson walked over and placed a hand on Booth's shoulder, "We'll get this asshole, Seeley. He's slipping. He's off his gourd. We're closer to catching him. Don't let him rattle you, okay?"
Booth nodded slightly to acknowledge her words. Frustrated that he wouldn't talk to her or look up at her, Patterson turned to leave.
She cringed feeling Brennan only a step or two behind her. Being escorted out by this woman was more than a bit humiliating.
As she stepped outside the doorway to Booth's apartment, Patterson looked past Brennan for one last glance at her former lover. More of her emotions visible than she'd intended, she glared at the woman and left after demanding that she "take care of him."
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
When she closed the door and turned around, Booth was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, Brennan listened carefully and moved quietly through the apartment in search of her partner. She found him sitting on the side of the bed now clad in jeans and pulling on socks and sneakers. He was obviously headed back to the office.
"Booth, you need to rest."
"People are dying, Bones. I can't just lie here and pretend that's not happening."
"I understand your frustration, but you are exhausted. You'll be no help to the team if you don't get some sleep." She pretended not to notice how closely her words paralleled those in the note Patterson had just described. She didn't think Booth was incompetent, and she wouldn't tolerate it if he started believing that himself.
"You're not asleep, Bones. Hell, you normally work through your stress by working day and night at the lab. You of all people are in no position to criticize me." He didn't want to have this argument with her and he certainly wasn't going to argue with her in his bedroom. He had to get her out of his bedroom, dammit. Because even though he had more on his mind than ever, having her there permanently was starting to seem like an option he should pursue physically—and fast.
She flinched at the raw edge of his words. She felt more than heard them. She knew that he was lashing out in pain and that she just happened to be the only person there, but she couldn't let it go. She followed him as he stomped toward the door of his apartment.
"I'm not criticizing you. I'm being rational. You need sleep. I'm just trying to be your partner, Booth."
"Well, you don't have to sit here and babysit me. I'm not an invalid."
"No one thinks you're an invalid, Booth-least of all me. This case has been stressful. You need to take care of yourself."
Booth whirled on her, his body signalling his intense distress. He spoke through gritted teeth, "What I really need is to drive myself to the office and check in with Rackley. I'm sure you mean well, Bones, but your sitting here metaphorically holding my hand is not helping. We decided that our partnership wasn't headed in that direction." His self-control was slipping. He hadn't meant to say all of that. He obviously needed some time away from Bones even more than he needed to have her by his side being supportive.
That stung. She'd been so caught up in feeling jealous and protective and drawn to him. The fact that he'd seen through her façade called her on it was unnerving, "What direction? The direction of friends supporting one another? You've stayed with me when I was upset many times. You've held my hand and let me cry on your shoulder. You've offered "guy hugs" and demanded that I accept them. That's what I've been doing. I've been being your partner, Booth."
He spoke before thinking, realizing all too late that there was no way to reel the words back in and take them back, "Is that all you're doing, Bones? I mean, first you're here in my apartment ogling me and then you're walking around in my damned underwear looking...," he stopped short of saying what he thought. She'd looked beautiful, freshly showered, exactly the way he imagined she'd look after he'd made love to her. But he knew that if he said that out loud to her while he was angry and she was standing there looking like that, he'd be unable to stop himself from hauling her back to his bedroom and finding out exactly what she looked like after they made love—to find out if his imagination of her beauty after their intimacy had been realistic. After pausing long enough to find new words, he continued, "Then you're smirking at my ex-girlfriend and shoving her out of my apartment on her ass like it means something that you're the one staying here with me instead of her. I can't handle dealing with everything that's going on here tonight, Bones. Not on top of everything else."
His words cut figurative slashes through her skin. The wounds were deep. He'd seen through her struggles and insecurity, and he had the audacity to challenge her about them. She flew at him in a blind rage.
"Don't you belittle our friendship and what we do for each other! I know you're angry, and I know I hurt you badly last year, but I'm here because I'm your partner and your friend, Booth. And I won't have you disparaging me or questioning my motives!"
Surprised by the tears in her eyes as much as he was by the vehemence with which she was defending "them," he sighed. "Bones, I'm sorry. Really. I just..." How was he supposed to convince her that he was grateful for her presence and her help and her encouragement when she was literally making him ache for her in ways not remotely appropriate for business partners? Bones was brutally honest. He knew she wasn't trying to drive him crazy. He'd probably imagined the ways he thought Bones was messing with him and with Patterson. He was probably that far gone. He couldn't say for certain that he hadn't dreamt the whole thing up out of some pathetic need for her to want more from him that just friendship. Dammit, this was Bones, and Bones looked scared about what he'd say next. He couldn't say anything else to her because he just didn't know what he could say that wouldn't send his closest ally running away from him again.
She stood there watching him try to find the right words. Booth was never at a loss for words. Even when she knew that choosing them carefully cost him dearly, Booth always talked to her—even if he weren't completely honest or held back his feelings. She stared up at him, her hostility a heavy armor for her weary, fragile heart. She contemplated just kissing him and showing him what she felt for him besides partnership. She thought about telling him that she'd been dealing with feelings for him that made it impossible for her to act normally around him. She also considered telling him that she hated Patterson and that she wanted him to give things between them a shot. But the look on his face warned her all too clearly that Booth could obliterate her entire world with just a word that meant she was too late. Too terrified to act, she stood there staring at the man who was the pillar of her existence, afraid that he'd disassemble it within moments.
He saw it—her sheer terror. Furious and fed up or not, he couldn't be the source of that look in her eyes. Damning the circumstances, he reached out and pulled her to him, crushing her in a hug designed to say words neither of them could muster in that moment. After the initial shock wore off, she held him just as tightly as he grasped her. They stood there for an indeterminate time, seeking solace and companionship only in one another.
At last sufficiently comforted by his embrace, Brennan pried her head away from his chest, instantly aching for the loss of his steady heartbeat in her ear. She looked up at him, an expression he couldn't fathom on her face. "Booth...," she whispered as she gazed up at him. Gathering all of her considerable strength, she summoned the courage to tell him how she really felt.