Author's note:

My dear friends following this story

Thank you for your patience with the updates. As ever, life has a tendency to get in the way of fiction thus delaying the updates. I wanted to thank each and everyone of you who has reviewed this story. I know I don't usually reply too much, but please know that this is very much appreciated on this side of fiction. You keep on giving me a good measure of how things are perceived and what your wishes are. And, most of the times, that ends up reflecting on the story. It is symbiosis on a very fine level!

I also want to thank MickeyBoggs for her help- twice, go figure- with this chapter and to Tails who did a first reading when I was sort of stuck. Thank you for your help, ladies.

Jane

Chapter 14

What a difference a day made. They had gone from partners to... to... what was it that they were now? They had kissed, that was all. A kiss did not make them lovers. Though she did want that. So what did a kiss that had left both of them too embarrassed to even look in each other's eyes make them? Certainly, something more than partners. Although, they had never been quite only partners. Partners are not all over each other's life like... like... oh, what was wrong with her, that she couldn't even come up with a good simile for that? All the endorphines were wreaking havoc in her brain. Whatever. But they were no longer only partners. This kiss was not like last Christmas. That much she was sure. Thank God for entropy. Well, not God exactly, not like Booth usually said it... more like an expression. A useful one if you wanted to be quick with your expressions. I mean, it's not like it's going to be a nice and clean expression if you just whisper in a man's ear thanks to millennia of evolutionary trends with the aim of survival of the fittest for entropy... that should go down well in a romantic situation....

Brennan walked absent long towards the dinner, pulled by some invisible force, a great portion of her brain synapses entangled in the task of understanding where she stood now with Booth, categorizing into neat little cubbyholes what had happened. Compartmentalizing. Compartmentalizing was a comfortable activity. There was that kiss. There was that tingling in her lips and in her fingers and in her toes and on the back of her head where he had held her firmly. As if she had had any intention of running from that. Silly of him. Or maybe not. She hadn't, after all, given him any indication that she wanted to be kissed. He had always told her that her verbal communication skills lied somewhere between those of the volcanic rock and of the pond scum. Or at least that had been her interpretation of his vernacular expression sucks. And she did suck. No doubt about it. Which was why she was worrying herself into nausea on how to approach him now. He'd be at the diner, she was sure about that. He always went to the diner at 8 pm if he was not worrying some perp into confessing a crime. He'd be having coffee and waiting for her. And it was going to be weird. Oh God, that would be so weird. Verbal communication skills would come in very handy now. Because how should she approach him? Just lean into him and say kiss me again? Booth was very alpha male for that approach though she definitely favored that one. He'd probably lecture her on gentleness or romanticism or whatever. So that was pretty much out of the question. Maybe just touch his hand like when she wanted him to open up and share a secret emotion with her. That could work though he could just mistake it for something else though he had a history of missing her cues. Or maybe she should just follow Angela's advice and stare into his eyes. Angela had said it would be a fool proof plan and that even she, Brennan, could pull it off. But what if he didn't feel compelled to kiss her? What if he regretted it already? He wouldn't... he wouldn't, would he? And if he did, she'd make him see reason. That their genes together would be the best combination possible... rationally. Would he go for that type of argument? Maybe it would be better to go for the truth of the matter and just say that she loved him... though that sounded strange even to her own ears- not to mention that she wouldn't even be able to say it out loud without a fair bit of practice. Brennan decided to play it by ear. Entropy could work for her here too. If one technique failed, she could just try something different. Yes... that could work.

***************

Booth pushed away at his pie, the appetite for the treat all but gone.

"All I'm saying is the sooner the better, Agent Perotta-"

"Call me Peyton, please."

"Right... Agent Perotta... Peyton... This guy is on the loose... what if he decides to take a walk tonight? We'll wake up tomorrow with two more victims, two more families broken. Nothing makes up for that. Nothing!"

"Seeley, I am not about to risk my life- and yours- to go on a stake out that has not been thoroughly prepared. We need to have a support team, a communications team, reinforcements- everything at the ready. This guy comes in, I want it on video, because, so far, we have zilch forensic-wise. I need a conviction and for a conviction, I need evidence. I am not about to go in and get screwed."

"Don't call me Seeley!"

"OK. I won't call you Seeley. But you can still call me Peyton. But back to the point. I don't think one more night is going to make a difference. I just need reassurance. I do not want to risk my team." Her hands brushed her hair nervously, smoothing it into perfection. She took a sip of her tea and as she pensively savored the warm comforting liquid, she spotted Brennan coming into the dinner. Was that woman everywhere?
"This is your op, Peyton." Booth remained oblivious to Brennan's approaching presence.

*****

Peyton? Who's Peyton? Oh... Peyton Perotta... since when are they on first name basis?

"Agent Perotta... Booth... Good evening"

God she smells good. Booth's focus of attention shifted naturally to Brennan still standing up, her face inscrutable, her mouth set in a line that was neither disapproving nor condoning of his sitting there with Agent Perotta. He had all but forgotten about his colleague and stood up, somewhat awkwardly for a man of his feline grace. He stood still looking at Brennan, deep into the crystalline depths and wondering how she would react if he just pulled her into another kiss. He settled for walking to her and pulling her chair. And that's when he remembered that Perotta was still standing there, because Brennan was not sitting directly in front of him, but at an askew angle that his body immediately compensated by shifting in his seat to look in a straight line into her face.

"Hi Bones..."
"Hi Booth..." There was a strange energy crackling between them, like a summer storm when the air is dry and wind smells of rain yet unfallen.

Agent Perotta observed the two of them feeling like the candle in a candle holder during a romantic dinner. And she did not enjoy it. She liked being the object of the regard, rather than the forgotten third at a table. She hated the eye fuck those two had going on. She cleared her throat once, discreetly and twice, more vehemently and thrice obnoxiously. Brennan was the first to look in her direction.

"Are you OK, Agent Perotta? Maybe a sip of water to help with your affliction? It does sound like hay allergy- though it is slightly early in the year for that." Brennan chided herself for the incessant chatter. Anyone who knew her would see through the chatter into the uncomfortable feeling that made her blab away. Like any two-brain-cells moron.

"Thank you . Though I had assumed that you were not a real medical doctor..." Brennan swallowed hard but if anything, she had heard Booth snickering at her in the occasions people brought that up against her.

"Well, you know what assume does... it makes an ass out of you to me..." She looked at Booth happy with the joke she'd made. But Booth was still looking at her, his poker face on, unreadable. She felt compelled to explain, to show she knew how to be a woman of the world. And it was to him that she explained her joke. "You know: ass as in the animal... you, like the vowel u... it spells the word, Booth... Oh... I guess if you have to explain it then it's not that funny...." She turned to Perotta." Besides, any half wit would have suggested the same glass of water, Agent Perotta." It was said in a definitive tone that left nothing to be said on the subject. "Did I interrupt anything, Booth? I thought we were going to have dinner"

Booth did a quick check on his memory bank. No, they hadn't made any plans, so he hadn't forgotten about it. But then again, you could count on the fingers of a single hand the days that they did not have dinner together.... But dinner with Bones tonight? If he could get past the awkward bit, oh yeah, baby. Then the words stake out formed like a dark shadow in his mind. Bones on one hand, stake out on the other. Crap, never a break.

"Well, Agent Perotta and I were just trying to decide on how best to proceed. We have the go ahead for a stake out..." He let the volume on the last few words drop considerably. Hopefully, with the noise of the diner, Bones would miss the two final words. And he might just not have to tell her that they were not having dinner together because he was going on a stake out that did not involve her. And he knew she was going to be disappointed. A stake out for his Bones, he knew, was like a great adventure, a game. He knew she had not missed a beat when her eyes focused on him rather than on Perotta whom she had been busy sizing up.

"Are we going on a stake out, then?"
"Bones..." There was a warning in his voice. He did not want to go through the whole discussion of the matter in front of Perotta. Ultimately because he did not want Bones being defeated in anything in front of the other woman. He might not be fully conversant in the games women play, but he knew that Brennan was even far less equipped than he was to deal with that. And he did not want to add to her handicap. Plus, it would be a humiliation she did not need or deserve.

"Bones, we've talked about this before, and I thought we agreed..."
"No, Booth, we failed to reach an agreement, remember? We were... negotiating and... well... you..." and she pointed at him an uncertain finger that still managed to take her point across. Booth felt himself blush.

"Yeah... I see what you mean..." He cleared his throat. Yes, they had been negotiating when the kiss happened. Well, not happened on its own... He smiled at the thought. "Bones..." He hesitated and pointed his chin at Agent Perotta sitting silently and studying the exchange.

"Seeley, don't mind me..." Perotta chipped in when she saw both Booth and Brennan's eyes falling on her.

"Don't call him Seeley!"

"Don't call-" Booth interrupted himself mid-sentence because he'd been taken aback by the possessiveness in her tone of voice and because he wasn't giving any of them any weapons- Perotta or Bones. He was an impartial man -if not totally honest with himself. "Bones, this is Peyton's op, not mine. So, it's her decision. You know my opinion."

"What? So you're saying that I need to ask her?" Not unkindly, not even unruly. Just... surprised. Brennan crossed her arms across her chest. Funny, Booth thought, that's supposed to be a defensive gesture, but in her it just looks like a wildcat bracing for the attack "Fine, I'll ask." Her eyes darted daggers in Booth's general direction. "Agent Perotta, can I go on the stake out with you?" Brennan was ready to launch on her explanation of her merits to be part of the operation- she had reviewed and expanded her rapport since the first attempt at convincing Booth earlier that morning, but Perotta just cut her short.

", you are a civilian. I know you are a gifted civilian, but a civilian nonetheless. If anything were to happen to you, I would be in more trouble than I care to imagine." She spoke in that reasonable tone that made Brennan's blood boil with impotence. If only the other woman had been rude or mean, she'd know how to deal with it. Ah, she'd have cause to deal with it. But she did not know how to deal with the silent communication, that silent understanding that passed between her Booth and the blond woman when she realized no amount of solid reasoning would persuade them. It was a look that, to her mind spelled out See, I'm good at dealing with petulant children which was, anyway, how she felt at that moment. Booth saw the light in her eyes dim a little, though she hid carefully under that unreadable expression of hers. But he knew she was disappointed. And what was worse, disappointed with him. He still did not want her risking her neck, but he was sure he could have done it differently. And it broke his heart that he had the tact of an elephant in a china shop dealing with her. It made him feel like a celebrated idiot and he wanted to make it up to her.

"Come on, Bones, let's have dinner" He sounded, even to himself, like a consolation prize. And she might not be the most perceptive and intuitive of mortals, but she saw through him. He reached his hand across the table and touched the tips of her fingers with the tips of his, lightly, briefly, but still enough to make him crave more and more of her. And in that touch, Brennan saw the olive branch he was offering, not just the pity she had been ready to read into it.

"Yes..." She offered the syllable in a raspy whisper that had reminded him of lazy summer days.

"Yes, let's have dinner while we discuss the details of the op, Agent Booth" Perotta put her two cents in, unable to concede a match point and effectively sitting Booth who had been about to take Brennan by the hand and waltz off to a nice takeaway place just close to his apartment. Perotta pulled out her cell phone where she called up the map Angela and Hodgins had devised, her field notebook and silver pen and started writing, knowing that Booth would have to pay attention to her and her planning, effectively removing Brennan from the conversation.

"Why don't you start today?" Brennan asked after studying the diagrams in Perotta's notebook. "As far as we know, this guy can be taking his bat out tonight." Booth turned to Perotta and gave her look that read See? Planning is a waste of time. I'm not the only one who thinks so. Perotta decided to ignore the gesture and replied to Brennan instead, the tone one of condescending superiority.

"Because, , I am not going to risk anyone in my team. I am taking my team into the field and will bring my team back. All in one piece."

"Commendable, really, but what if killer strikes tonight?"

"He won't"

"How can you be so certain? He has never had any sort of pattern, as far as we know, tonight may well be the night. Do you think it's worth risking inaction?"

"" Perotta's carefully crafted veneer of patience was wearing visibly thin. "This issue is not open for discussion. But thank you for your input. Really!"

The man moved through the darkness as if he were a part of it. A shadow with no face and a baseball bat in his hand. A scent of beeswax trailed behind him in the cool early spring air. As he approached the car, a dirty old thing where the young couple sat completely absorbed in each other, as very young lovers tend to do, the baseball bat jumped into life and action, spreading fear and pain as the man plunged it through the open window of the passenger seat. The young girl screamed, the freshness of her skin tainted by the pallor of terror and the blood flecks from her boyfriend's head smashed by a single blow plunged into his face. The instinct of flight ran through her mind immediately, but her legs failed her as did the fight instinct and it was like being in a bad dream, rooted to the ground, bogged down by an immense weight. She wet herself in her horror and died hoping that no one would check her underwear for the ultimate of humiliations. She was sixteen and taking her car out without her father's overprotection for the very first time.

At that time, Agent Peyton Perotta was finally happy with her tactic planning for a stake out. She would go by Booth's earlier hunch of the location but she would go in with a video surveillance team, an armed support team and headquarters' tac team support. She would not risk anyone's life, no sir. She would take her team and bring them all back plus a killer well and truly wrapped in evidence with a conviction under her arm. And, quite possibly, Agent Booth's admiration as well. It had been a long time since she felt that strongly about someone. Too bad that was stuck to him like the measles. Or a ghost. The ghost of failed intentions. Still, 's reputation within the Bureau in DC was that of a sex machine who had no qualms in bedding as many men as needed to satisfy her desires. All the more power to her. Trouble was, in Peyton Perotta's opinion, that Booth's affections and obvious blind spot towards her were misguided. In fact, Agent Perotta thought, he needed someone like herself, someone who would take good care of his heart- instead of playing him for a fool. There were rumors running quietly that he had not bedded a woman since the break up with Dr. Saroyan. If that was the case, it was a waste of his chivalrous heart, but she would very much like to be the one to break the spell. Indeed, that would be her very private, very shiny crown of glory.

The incessant ring of her phone woke her to the sight before her: Booth holding Brennan's hand in his, his fingers caressing her slowly, absently, as he was still trying to charm her into giving up on being a part of the stake out. The scientist could try with Booth all she wanted, but as long as her, Peyton Perotta was in charge, there would not come a day when that would happen. She had no intention of babysitting a grown woman. Enough that Booth had asked her that while he had been unable to do so himself. The phone rang yet again, a shrill annoying noise. And then, Booth's phone danced softly on the table. He picked it up never letting go of Brennan's hand. And his soft smile faded into an unreadable face, his lips contracting to a single line,

"Fuck!" That was the long and short of it, of what she knew instinctively, the crew had been trying to tell her when she missed the call: the killer had come out with his bat again. And fuck was indeed accurate- as she saw her dream of catching a killer, of holding his conviction in her right hand and Booth's heart in her left slipping through her finger in ashes. Fuck indeed.