AUTHOR'S NOTE: At the risk of sounding like Janice on Friends -- Oh...My...God! When I updated last week, I had no idea it would cause such a flood of reviews! It really makes me wonder what you will make of this chapter...

Dear Faux Maven, the ever wise one, thank you for quelling my fears and nerves and assuring me there was no need to "overwrite" and instead trust my instincts. You have no idea how many valuable lessons you have already taught me. And on a random side-note...That comment you made about the ending after reading the first draft still puts an ear-to-ear grin on my face!

To everyone who reviewed chapter 10, both logged in users and "anonymous" reviewers, thank you for the support. You are all too kind!

- XI -

-- THE LEAD SPRINKLER --

At first sight the Lead Sprinkler looked like a Holy Water Sprinkler. Its workings were quite similar too. The Lead Sprinkler essentially was a ladle on the end of a handle. The torturer poured molten metals, boiling oil, boiling water, pitch or tar in the lower half, which then slowly slid to the sphere on the other side. The top half of the sphere was perforated and could be removed or reattached as the torturer wished.

The victim was pinioned first before the torturer brought out the Lead Sprinkler. By shaking or flicking the device in the victim's direction, he was literally showered with the boiling hot contents of the Lead Sprinkler. This torture method was often used to end someone's life. A common and rather popular way of execution was pouring molten silver on the victim's eyes. Very painful and death eventually ensued.

In the last chapter Booth provoked Brennan by withholding information about Zach's condition. Knowing Brennan, she won't easily let Booth off the hook. But who says Booth won't give her a hard time too? They end up arguing, throwing accusations at each other's heads, much like molten drops of boiling oil, until eventually the "death" of their partnership follows.

Friday November 30 - Hoover Building, ground level - 12:59

One shove and the glass doors leading outside flew open. Three long strides and Booth was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Halting, he muttered unintelligible things about squints and their pigheadedness under his breath, all the while scanning his surroundings. No sign whatsoever of Brennan. Not on the sidewalk, not under the entrance canopy of the underground parking lot, not in between the scores of people milling about at the other side of the street.

"Damn it, Bones. Where the hell are you?" he mumbled, clearly irritated.

"Booth," a voice came from behind him.

When he turned, he found Brennan staring at him, arms crossed and a scowl which he knew he had caused on her face. Booth gritted his teeth and made sure he stared right back at her, fully intent on not allowing Brennan to walk all over him in her frustration. He might have lied to her, but he had had a good enough reason to...at least in his opinion.

When Brennan did nothing more than glare at him, Booth made a few tentative steps in her direction and said, "Do you really want to do this here?"

"Yes, I do. I'm tired of running away, Booth. I..." Brennan quickly looked away as if saying what was on her mind without having eye-contact with her partner would make things easier. But just as suddenly she seemed to find her nerve again and swiveled back. "You said we'd find a way to make this investigation work. How does not telling me about Zach's disappearance help us?"

"Bones," Booth began, but Brennan interrupted him.

"You had no right to keep information of that importance from me. I work with Zach. He's my friend. If he goes missing, I want to know about it. You just…" She shook her head. "You just had no right, Booth."

Booth straightened. "I'm your partner. I had every right. "

"No, you didn't," she uttered, shaking her head again, but this time it was more a gesture out of disappointment than dismissal. Brennan quietly circled Booth and moved towards the parking lot entrance, leaving him to stare after her.

Booth grimaced. He hadn't said anything wrong, had he? He had every right, didn't he? He was her partner; it was his job to protect her, after all. Kneading his jaw muscles, Boot watched Brennan walk down the sidewalk and felt the guilt of his lie press down on him. His delaying of the truth might have given her a few more moments of peace, but the consequences weren't worth it. Lying to protect Brennan wasn't the way. He sighed and before he could stop himself, he found himself shouting after her, "It was all a bluff."

Brennan stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly she turned to look at him. "A bluff?" Disbelief was clearly written all over her face. "Are you telling me Zach never went missing?"

"No, Zach was gone, alright. He's fine now, though. That call I got was from Hodgins, saying they'd found him." Booth paused to take the time to clear his throat and put his hands in his pockets, as if he wanted to dramatize the already present heavy tension. "They found him in the woods behind Hodgins' house. Zach was tied to a tree, barely conscious...barely alive, actually."

Brennan's eyes first widened in surprise and shock and were then narrowed with suspicion and barely concealed anger. She retraced her steps until she was standing in front of Booth again. "It was him, wasn't it?" He nodded. Brennan briefly squeezed her eyes shut as she inhaled deeply. Her jaw muscles tightened and when her eyelids slid open again, every possible speck of inner turmoil she might be experiencing at that moment was wiped from her stare until only cutting edges of ice cold, barely controlled anger were left.

"All the more reason why you should have told me. If our killer took Zach, then you put me in danger by not providing me with necessary details." She arched an eyebrow. "Or were you going to handcuff me to you so you could keep an eye on me all day long?"

"It crossed my mind." Booth lifted his eyebrows in challenge when he caught a stifled grunt coming from Brennan. "So what if it did? Just looking out for you, Bones." Inwardly, Booth rolled his eyes. Exactly when had he decided he wasn't below working Brennan the way she worked him? Sighing, he gestured at nothing in particular. "He got to Angela, he got to Zach. I won't allow him to get to you." His voice became firmer. "He'll have to go through me to get to you because you're not leaving my side. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever until that bastard is either behind bars or six feet deep."

He mentally kicked himself the second those words left his mouth. Why was it he only seemed to channel his most base nature, his most simplistic side also known as Caveman, whenever she was around? It was a compulsion, he grudgingly realized, and it was connected to the all-devouring feelings of lust and irritation he had begun associating with his partner's presence. Apparently this very Neanderthal-like character trait was as much a part of him as his thirst for justice and the courteous gentleman-like manners his mother had taught him. Booth's shoulders sagged perceptibly as his hands fell limply down his sides. He had let his heart rule over his head again. If there was any woman who prided herself on not needing a male protector, then it was Brennan, and he had yet again preferred to forget that particular quality.

Crossing her arms, Brennan looked exasperatedly at her partner. "Just tell me why you lied, Booth. I deserve that much." She paused long enough to scrutinize his face. "Was it because I didn't call you first? Because of the trouble I gave you when you wouldn't let me see Angela? Or was it because I didn't want you to attend John's funeral?"

"No, Bones." Booth firmly shook his head. "No, no and no. It wasn't because of any of the above. It was because..." Groaning in the back of his throat, Booth threw himself around and marched straight for the entrance doors.

"Booth," Brennan called after him, already in pursuit.

As if it cost him a more than considerable amount of effort, he halted briefly and without looking at her, finished what he was going to say in a loud and clear voice, "I didn't tell you straight away because it's you."

It took Brennan a moment to catch up, mentally as well as physically. Quickening her pace so she could keep up with him, she tried to make eye-contact with him. But Booth stared straight ahead, effortlessly pushing through the doors and weaving his way through the entrance hall. "Booth, I don't know..."

"-what that means. Yeah, I bet you don't," he sarcastically muttered as he kept on moving.

Brennan glanced ahead. They were approaching the elevators. Somehow she suspected the chance of finishing their conversation properly would dwindle to zero if Booth made it to his office. If they had been at the lab, she wouldn't have had any problem with demanding him to listen to her. But now they were in Booth's territory. They were in his "house", so to speak. The only way to grab Booth's attention was by thinking like him. Without any further thought she locked her hand around his upper arm and gave it a light jerk. The effect was immediate and exactly what she desired. Booth came to an abrupt stop, blocking the way, an obstacle in the middle of the hallway with no intention to move aside as long as she held him in a light, but strangely firm grip.

Brennan could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, despite the fact they had just been outside, but she didn't loosen her hold. Her hunch that a touch would get through to her partner had been correct. Body language might not be her forte, but she had picked up a thing or two thanks to her close observations of Booth. She would never be as touchy-feely as he, but...And exactly who was she trying to kid? If she had to be honest, she had to admit she was rather enjoying the feel of his flesh yielding beneath the firm pressure of her fingers. She reveled in how it molded to the shape of her hand. But what she liked most was Booth's warmth. Whenever their skin made contact, liquid fire shot through her. What was most disturbing was that she actually craved this heat -- its complexity, its consequences...its beauty.

Hesitantly Brennan let her hand slip down his arm until it was hanging at her side. "Don't walk away from me, Booth. I need an explanation."

Booth pivoted until he was fully facing her. When he leaned forward, Brennan stood her ground. Quietly, close to a murmur, Booth spoke to her, "I meant exactly what I said. I lied to you because it's you. I just... I just couldn't bear seeing you get hurt again, Bones." He breathed in deep, carefully choosing his next words. "I care about you...a lot. More than I probably should. I wanted to spare you the agony of Zach's disappearance until I had some good news to go along with it. That's why I waited. That's why I convinced myself I had the right to keep you in the dark." He straightened, and in a tone that left no room for discussion, "Because I care."

Brennan stared at him, baffled. Dozens of thoughts, some coherent some not, flew and bounced through her mind, but in the end only one was voiced. "I understand."

"You do?" Booth replied, quirking an eyebrow.

She nodded. "But that doesn't mean I approve of what you did. You lied, Booth, period."

"I did, but I'm not going to apologize for it. It was in your best interest."

Brennan regarded him for a few silent moments, perplexed, stunned, all trace of ice cold anger vanished. Instead a mix of curiosity and suspicion vacated her eyes. "Where do you draw the line, Booth?" she asked. "Do you often lie to me? Is it a conscious choice you make or does it come naturally? And do you lie to everybody or just to me?"

"Bones, damn it. You know damn well it's nothing like that."

His rough and unexpectedly loud growl silenced Brennan. It surprised Booth too, but Brennan should have seen it coming. She was getting to him. God, how she was getting to him...Accusation after accusation was thrown at him, guilt was being rubbed into his skin until he smelled of lies, deceit and cowardice. The number of people mouthing a multitude of swear-words in their direction since they were still blocking the entrance to one of the elevators weren't exactly helping him center himself or soften his treatment of Brennan's contemptuous questions. Clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, Booth fought for focus as he tried to come up with something intelligent to say next. He had managed to turn aside Brennan's temporary tirade; now he had to figure out how to silence her ridiculous accusations that he lied his way through their partnership. But before he could formulate a more eloquent reply than a clipped curse, Brennan hurled a softly spoken yet infuriating string of words at him.

"John would have never lied to me."

Booth bristled. "You only saw him three times a week."

"The specific number of our meetings is irrelevant," Brennan waved away the words clearly spoken in outrage. "By the third date I knew John would never stab me in the back."

"Just like I never would." Booth threw his hands in the air to show his despair about not getting his point across. "Yes, I lied, but I did it to spare your feelings. You've been through enough already, Bones." The harsh lines in his face softened briefly as his eyes roamed over her. Then he hardened again. "So don't even dare comparing me to a guy you saw three times a week. On fixed nights even."

Brennan felt like mimicking Booth's theatrical hand gestures to express her utter frustration. "What is it with you, Booth? Why do you keep comparing yourself to John? I told you, you don't have to compete with him!" She punctuated her words with few menacing steps in his direction, until they were but a breath apart.

Booth glowered at her, unfazed. But he couldn't stop his gaze from quickly flicking to Brennan's mouth. There was something about her lips when she pinched them like that. It awakened an odd desire in him to tear and pull at them until they were back to their usual plumpness. But he quelled the temptation the second it intensified too much to his taste. Oblivious to the spectators who had gathered around them, he accused Brennan, "You didn't care about him, Bones. You used John for sex and that's it."

"No, I did not..."

"Do I have to point out the 'fixed nights' again?"

Brennan's hands itched to give him and his ego a good shove. Instead she snapped at him, "Takes one to know one."

Upon hearing Brennan's cryptic retort, Booth lifted his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Samantha," Brennan curtly replied, suddenly in possession of pure calm and equilibrium. "You used her."

He silently stared at her before he turned away. "Maybe I did."

Brennan almost didn't catch his mumbling, but because she did, she quickly hurried after him. They pushed through the throngs of people who gathered around them to cheer on their more than intriguing argument. They struggled to break through the mass of people that streamed from the elevator that happened to arrive at that moment, swimming upstream as if they were salmon. Brennan easily ignored the interest they had piqued in the surrounding crowd and was entirely concentrated on the tall man shouldering his way past colleagues and strangers.

"Booth, damn it. Get back here," she almost hissed.

It weren't so much her words as her actions that literally pulled him back to face her. Her hand shot out, clamped down on his shoulder, and roughly spun him around. Whatever she had planned on saying, it completely escaped her the second she met his eyes. Such irritation, such distress...such passion she perceived in them. It frightened her, confused her. And strangely enough it turned her on.

Her breath quickened as a mist of longing rolled over Booth's face, inspiring his pupils to dilate and his lungs to draw in a sharp breath. His gaze shot down to her mouth when he caught an unconscious flick of her tongue across her lips to wet them, as if Brennan was anticipating what had been playing on Booth's mind for quite some time now. When he looked up again, he knew she could read his longing, despite her sometimes uncanny ability to be dense. She could see right into the craving part of his soul and to his amazement she bared a similar part of herself to him. It was all the encouragement he needed. In just a few seconds the restraints that had curbed the frighteningly overwhelming longing were incinerated.

Screw his reputation as successful agent. No, screw her reputation as hard-ass scientist. In fact, screw both of their reputations. Or better yet, screw her. Mentally grinning a sinful smile, Booth threw all caution to the wind. Right in front of the elevators, for all to see, he gave in to his inner Caveman. He grabbed her face, twined his fingers through her hair, and yanked her towards him. His mouth descended upon hers before the quiet gasp in surprise left her. He kissed her hard and deep, pouring all of his irritation, all of his fears, all of his longing into her. He kissed and kissed her, ravaging her lips, scraping them with his teeth, soothing the flesh with his tongue afterwards.

And wonder above wonder, she kissed him back with the same fervor. Booth groaned, inhaling her scent, tasting her moans of pleasure. Every hair on his body stood on end with delicious tension. If kissing her felt this good, the rest she had to offer would surely knock him out cold. The mere thought of going beyond just kissing made him tremble and shake with need. So many times she had been in danger; so many times he had nearly lost her. Their current situation was no different. She could slip away from him in the very second he let his guard down. Desperation fought its way through Booth's body and drowned his already tidal need in a veil of illogical fear. Closer, he had to get closer to her and feel her. Make sure she was real and alive and within his grasp.

Brennan seemed like-minded because when Booth moved forward to glue his body to hers, she gripped the top of his jacket lapels in a hold tight enough to drain all blood from her hands. Both sighed in relief at the more than arousing and yet reassuring full bodily contact. Booth untangled one of his hands and briefly left the toe-curling warmth of her hair to dryly punch the button to call for the elevator. The doors opened promptly and Booth, still fully engaged in devouring his partner in every way he had imagined in the past two years, stumbled backwards, dragging Brennan with him.

It wasn't until they were halfway up to the seventh floor that they broke apart. Hands still in Brennan's hair, his eyes fighting for focus, Booth breathed rapidly. He swallowed, straightened and leaned a bit back, but without stepping away as much as an inch. Brennan stared at him, lips swollen, equally short breathed.

"That one's definitely on top of the list," Booth murmured.

"What list?"

"The 'How to Silence Bones Effectively' list."

I bet you didn't see that one coming...