Oh you guys. I wouldn't be posting this without you all.
I love my reviewers.
I'm doing my best to keep up this pace with the chapters, I don't know how long it will last, but I can say for sure your reviews inspire me to write more faster. So thanks for that.
And for goodness sake, don't you think I would tell you if I owned Bones?
Written to: Winter in my Heart, VAST
Temperance Brennan walked into her room and let her travel bag drop from her shoulder to the floor. She took the two and a half steps to her bed before falling onto it face first.
"So. Did Michael call you?" Angela asked from the door, "Or was I right about his being a colossal waste of your time?"
Brennan turned her head to the side, not bothering to open her eyes or sit up, "There were seven missed calls, three from you, and another five from Zach."
She paused for a moment, "However, Michael did send three rather cryptic text messages."
"Cryptic?" Angela asked. Brennan could feel Angela's weight sinking into the mattress as she sat on the bed.
She's not going to leave until you tell her what she wants to hear.
Brennan scowled and pulled the phone out of her pocket and handed it to Angela. She waited for Angela to read them.
Brennan remembered them perfectly.
-What room are you in?
-Where did you go?
-Fine then. I'll see you in lab.
"Honey, these aren't really cryptic." Angela said as she handed the phone back, "He's being butthurt because he thinks you ditched him."
Brennan put one hand over her eyes and rubbed her face, "I do not see how you know he has pain in his gluteus maximus, or how that pain would theoretically relate to his feelings about what may or may not have happened at the party."
"No honey. Butthurt is a slang adjective describing his childish and rude behavior."
"I see the distinction." Brennan rolled onto her back and looked up into Angela's eyes, "However your assessment of Michael's emotional state is based solely on three out of context text messages."
Angela snorted in disgust, "I just think he's a waste of your time."
"I cannot consider him to be a waste of my time without giving him the opportunity to explain himself."
Angela did not look impressed or convinced, "As far as I'm concerned he lost the right to explain much of anything when he walked out on you last night." Brennan looked at the phone in her hand as Angela continued, "But it's up to you. If you want to hear his lame ass story, you go right on ahead."
Angela didn't leave, she just waited for Brennan to decide; call Michael or don't.
Brennan held her phone in her hand, staring at the contacts page, Michael's name at the top.
I should call him and ask what happened.
Angela's voice echoed through her head.
-It doesn't matter what he says happened, he left you.
Brennan took a breath and tapped the call button on her phone. Waiting. Listening.
Ring.
Silence
Ring.
Silence
Ring.
Silence
"What do you need Temperance?"
Brennan started at the angry tone in his voice, "I-" she paused to take a breath before continuing, "I am wondering what happened to you last night?"
"What do you think happened? You took off with some Neanderthal and I went home. Alone."
"What do you mean took off with?"
"I saw you. He was carrying you up the stairs; I don't want to know what else you did."
Brennan breathed in sharply, "Michael I-"
"Stop. Just stop. You don't have to make excuses to me; you're a grown woman and I'm not your boyfriend. Although I won't deny wishing that were different, that is apparently past us now."
"Michael, please, I-", Brennan hesitated as she searched for the words, "I don't know what happened last night."
"What do you mean you don't know? How can you not know?"
"I was drugged Michael. I woke up in the hospital this morning. I have no memory of last night."
"My god, Tempe, where are you now? Do you need me to come get you?" His tone changed, became sympathetic, and Brennan released a breath she hadn't known she was holding.
"No. Thank you." She replied.
"Are you sure?"
"I am with Angela. I just wanted to call and find out where you were, and what happened to you."
There was a pause, "Did he touch you?"
"To whom are you referring?"
"That Neanderthal that carried you up the stairs."
"Of course he touched me Michael, how else would he get me up the stairs?"
"No! Temperance," he paused dramatically, "did he hurt you?"
Brennan found herself rolling her eyes at his tone and timbre, "I do not know to which male individual you are referring, however according to the personnel at the hospital I did not sustain any kind of injury or assault."
There was silence on the phone for a moment, then, "I'm glad you're all right."
"As am I."
"I regret not doing more for you last night. I'm afraid I let my jealousy get the better of me."
"I understand Michael, you are human after all."
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes, thank you Michael." Brennan paused, "Will I see you tomorrow?"
"Of course. See you then Tempe."
"Good-bye."
Brennan pulled the phone from her ear and tapped the end call button, already thinking over her conversation with Michael.
"Well?"
"Well what?" Brennan tossed the phone onto her nightstand and tried to avoid the conversation.
"Don't even try it sweetie. What did Michael have to say for himself?"
"He was under the impression that I was sexually active with another partygoer, thereby rejecting him. And so he left."
"How the hell did he jump to that conclusion?"
"He observed a man carrying me up the stairs."
Angela's brow furrowed, "That was probably Booth."
"How can you possibly know that?"
"Tell you what, you ask him tomorrow. If I'm right you're buying."
"What am I buying?"
"Dinner. Sushi."
"When?"
"Whenever."
"Fine. I accept your terms."
"So what else did he say?"
"About what?"
"About you being sexually active with another partygoer."
"But I wasn't."
"But Michael thinks you were. And so in his mind, you were."
Brennan considered Angela's argument.
"I see your point. To wit; Michael seemed genuinely upset and hurt with the idea of me interacting physically with someone. He also pointed out that he had intended to formally express interest in a customary courtship agreement."
"English sweetie."
"He expressed a desire to be my boyfriend."
"Oh hell no."
"I do not understand your disapproval."
"Booth has shown you more respect in the past 18 hours than Michael has in the entire time you've known him. Michael is condescending and rude."
"Michael is a very nice person, I do not think you know him well enough to make an assessment of his character."
"Oh honey. Booth is a nice person, Michael is pretending to be a nice person, there's a difference." She sighed deeply, "How often does Michael talk with you?"
Brennan opened her mouth to speak before being interrupted by Angela, "Not to you. With you. When is the last time you gave your opinion on something and he took it seriously."
Brennan stopped and thought.
What about . . .
. . . no, that was repeated by another student before he listened.
Well there was that one time that . . .
. . . no, he came to the same conclusion as I did and acted upon it without speaking to me.
Ok, but you're forgetting . . .
. . . I'm not forgetting anything. Angela's right. He does not listen to my thoughts, and when he responds he only talks to me.
But just now on the phone . . .
. . . he avoided any manner of apology or responsibility for what occurred.
Brennan tried to hide the revelation, tried to keep it from showing on her face, not that it ever worked.
"I'm right aren't I?" Angela asked knowingly.
Brennan nodded, stunned.
"Look. It doesn't mean you shouldn't talk to him," she continued, "It just means that dating him is probably the worst idea you've ever had."
Angela stood, Brennan could feel the change in how the bed distributed weight.
"I'll figure out dinner, ok?"
Brennan nodded and closed her eyes again, listening to Angela leave the room and shut the door behind her.
Her mind drifted, and she let it, she found herself remembering the feel of Booth's skin under her hand, her own unexpected physical response to his unintentional stimulation, and the way his breathing changed when she touched him.
A part of her recoiled from the memory; she had been so focused and desperate to correct the course of her day and to control the order of remaining events, and he had upended that.
No.
He had shattered it.
Brennan prided herself on being a serious, intelligent, and committed graduate student with a bright and promising future ahead of her.
She did not respond to pheromone secretions and the odor of sweat and canvas.
She did not get distracted by a physically superior male and the way he looked with his shirt off, or the way his skin felt under her hand, or how very close he had been to her.
Temperance Brennan did not get distracted.
She did not.
-Sweetie. You are so distracted.