Title: Deja Vu
Disclaimer: Language, violence
Chapter Two: Loser
Temperance Brennan walked into the lab of the Jeffersonian. This was her domain, her place of comfort. Given half the chance she'd lived here, surrounded by machines and unidentified remains. She thrived in finding the answers to the puzzles that others left behind when crimes were committed. It put her mind at ease to know she'd given a family closure while she still sought to find her own. This was her home and the one place she spent most of her time.
The other scientists, or squints as Booth preferred to call them, had become her family. Angela Montenegro, the artist that gave faces to those who couldn't speak for themselves, was not only her friend but also her sister. Zack Addy and Jack Hodgins were caring and even annoying at times, like brothers. Even Daniel Goodman, her boss, fit into the family. She still couldn't find a perfect place to fit Seeley Booth. Would he always be a friend or would she give in to his flirting and they'd become lovers?
She grabbed a folder from her atop her desk and perched on the corner of the cluttered messy desktop. Flipping open the cover she began to read over the facts of a new case, a new body and new mystery. Little was known about the skeleton. It had been found in a dumpster by a homeless man when he was looking for lost treasure, as he put it. Most of the bones in the legs and arms were missing, as were a few of the ribs and vertebras. Though important clues were held by those bones they'd still have enough to identify race and sex.
"I'm sorry to hear about that case," Angela said, walking into the office and giving Brennan a scare.
She looked up into the eyes of the beautiful artist. Her Asian heritage added to her beauty and allure. If Brennan had thought looks were more important than personality she'd have been jealous of her friend. "I think Booth took it harder than I did. He didn't even call me Bones that whole day."
"You usually don't like it when he calls you that," Angela responded with a knowing smile.
Brennan closed the file. "That's true, but it's human nature, Angela. If someone gets into the habit of calling you by a name, even though you request they not, it does become a little worrisome when they stop doing it. It's a slight personality change."
"Maybe you should talk to him. He was probably thinking about his own son when he thought of those little boys," reasoned the forensic artist.
Sighing in defeat Brennan agreed with her friend. Sometimes life was beyond her. She didn't always understand the pop references that Booth threw her way but she did understand people. It was her job. "Have you seen him yet today?"
Angela shook her head. "Nope, haven't seen even a glimpse of those dark FBI eyes. Why don't you go to his office? Zack and Hodgins are stilly going over the specifics of our new skeleton. If Dr. Goodman shows up I'll just tell him you were looking into something else."
"I don't know, Angela. I have a job to do and I really should do it. Booth will show up eventually. Doesn't he always?"
The conversation ended there as Brennan breezed out the door, leaving Angela confused. If someone like Seeley Booth was hitting on her all the time she'd be downright giddy, like a school girl. But since the murder of her boyfriend in the desert she'd been guarding her heart. Maybe spending too much time with Brennan was taking a toll on her. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear the unnecessary thoughts she took off after her boss.
PP
All day Brennan had occupied herself by working over the bones in her new case. This time the body belonged to a young African-American woman, roughly the age of twenty. Booth never once stopped by the lab and by the end of her work day she could no longer hide her worry for him. The last time they'd been together he had seemed lost, almost as though he'd lost faith in the world. One by one her colleagues bid her a goodnight until she was the only one left in the lab, aside from the bodies.
Looking at her watch she decided to call it quits for the night and run over to Booth's apartment. She'd never really been inside his place but knew where it was because Booth had told her. Shutting off the light in her office and locking the door she took off into the night to locate her lost friend. After losing her parents as such a young age she couldn't help but grow attached to people. Even if they did have a tendency to drive her nuts, like Booth.
As usual the radio remained off in her car. Most of the music she heard nowadays made no sense to her. She didn't understand why people would want to listen to others sing about death and rape and shootings. Maybe if they lived their life the way she did they'd realize that those songs were written in poor taste. Not that love songs were all the rage either. Brennan didn't believe in love.
Booth's car was parked outside the apartment building where he lived. This gave Brennan a renewed sense of hope, though she didn't know why. Just because his car was there didn't mean he was okay. She barely remembered climbing up the stairs to reach his apartment or raising her hand to rap her knuckles on the wooden door.
"Go away," came a grumbled response.
"It's Temperance," she responded, wondering momentarily if she should have added her last name. How many Temperance's could Booth know?
The door swung open. Booth gave her a look before turning around and walking farther into his apartment where he proceeded to make himself comfortable on the couch. Feeling just a tad uncomfortable she entered the foreign place, closing the door behind her. Everything about the apartment screamed Booth. It was just like she imagined it to be, even the toys sitting on the living room carpet that belonged to his son. She put her purse on the table and her jacket over the back of a chair.
"You didn't go to work today?" she asked the obvious question.
He threw her a look. "What do you want, Brennan?"
"I wanted to make sure that you were okay. That's what friends do," she snapped in annoyance. How could this man always rub her the wrong way?
"No one asked you to check-up on me."
She walked around the couch, turning off the TV and standing in front of him. His white shirt was partially unbuttoned and not tucked into this black dress pants. He looked as though he'd gotten up with the intent to go to work that day but changed his mind and not his clothes. There were dark circles under his eyes; he hadn't slept well the night before. She felt sympathetic toward him.
"Booth, you can't let this case get to you. Yes, it's sad when a child is harmed the way those little boys were; even worse so when the one harming them is young too. But if you let this case get to you than you let the bad guys win. Can you live with that?" she asked him.
"Why wouldn't he tell me?" Booth nearly whispered in response.
She took a seat on the couch beside him. "Who knows? I know it's hard but you need to move on, Booth. There are other victims out there, waiting for the attention of a really good detective. Will you deny them the closure they need and the justice they deserve?"
He turned to look at her, his eyes somewhat cloudy from the lack of sleep and possibly from the added affect of alcohol. There was an empty beer bottle on the coffee table. Even now she felt a little tug deep inside that she didn't quite understand. He stood from the couch after a moment and threw the empty beer bottle into a recycling bin.
"I'm going to bed," he announced.
Brennan followed him into the kitchen. "Promise me that you'll go to work tomorrow, Booth. I don't want to spend another day worrying about you. Promise me."
No matter how long she lay awake that night she would never quite understand what happened next. Booth turned to her, a blank look on his face, a fire burning in his eyes. He grasped her by her shoulders and leaned in close. She felt the brush of his lips against hers in a complete surprise. As quickly as the contact had been established it had been erased. He turned his back on her, making his way toward his bedroom.
"Goodnight, Bones," he said as he disappeared into the dark hallway.