Title: Deja Vu

Disclaimer: Language, violence

Chapter Seven: Better Life

He came down the hallway to see what had made Brennan call him. He stopped dead in his tracks, gun raised, when he saw the back of a man. The new body in the apartment was staring down Brennan. This new person was taller than her, built about the same as Booth and the way he stood there made it hard to read his intentions.

"Don't touch her, step away from her," Booth said in a calm but assertive voice. He kept his gun pointed at the intruder, ready, incase he had to use it. The other person obeyed him, taking two steps back away from Brennan. When he moved Booth got a clear look at Brennan's face and it looked like she'd seen a ghost. Her eyes were wide and the color had drained from her face. "Turn around."

Slowly, arms raised in surrender, the other man turned to face Booth, and he felt like someone socked him in the stomach. The man before him had to be the same height, six-foot-one, with that was either dark brown or black and his eyes were the color of chocolate. He could have been Booth had he not been wearing jeans, a T-shirt advertising the band 3 Doors Down, and sneakers. The three piercings in his ear were also something Booth wouldn't even dare.

After getting over the initial shock Booth was able to ask, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," the man replied. "This is my friend's apartment and I'm going to call the cops. You two are trespassing."

Booth reached into his pocket and pulled out his ID, he flashed the FBI badge. "Right now we have more right to be here than you do. So answer my questions. Who are you and why are you here?"

The man scowled. "I told you, this is my friend's apartment. I came here to feed her fish," he said, pointing to a fish tank neither Booth nor Brennan had seen at first. "I've been stopping by every other day or so to water her plants and take care of her fish. It's the least I can do."

'What do you mean?" Brennan interrupted. She'd walked around the guy to stand beside Booth. It wasn't that she was scared, she wasn't, but hiding behind the man with the gun always seemed like the logical thing to do; especially after nearly dying just a few days ago.

"My friend disappeared about a month ago. Her name was Temira Brend," the man replied. "I wanted to keep her place the way she left it, in case she came home. She loved her plants and her fish."

Brennan looked around the combination kitchen, living room, and dining room. "I don't see any plants."

"There in the bedroom," Booth said. "You still haven't told me your name."

"It's Seth Boone," the man replied. "Why are you here? Did you find Temira?" The idea must have just hit him as his eyes lit up and he seemed to be slightly hopeful. "Is she okay? Where is she?"

"What's your relation to Miss Brend?" Booth asked, ignoring Seth's questions. "How long have you two known each other? Were you just friends, like you claim, or was there something more going on?"

Seth frowned, annoyed that none of his questions were being answered. "Look, we were just friends. I wanted to be more but she didn't seem interested. I decided being friends was better than nothing. We met four years. She works at a lab, as a biologist, and I'm one of the night security guards. We'd see each other after her shift. Have a little dinner in the break room, and I'd walk her to her car before starting my shift. It was an innocent friendship. I swear."

Booth was feeling a pretty strong case of déjà vu at the moment. Not only did Temira Brend resemble Brennan but this Seth Boone looked like him. Their friendship reminded him of the friendship he had with Brennan. He was the muscle, like Seth, while she was the brains, like Temira. The entire episode screamed movie of the week. Now he knew how Brennan felt when she saw that face Angela had rendered. Brennan put her hand on his wrist, pressuring him to lower his gun. When he turned to look at her he saw the hurt in her eyes. They had to tell this man that his friend was dead, that he kept the plants and fish alive for nothing but hope.

He lowered his gun. "I'm sorry Mr. Boone, but Temira Brend is deceased." Seth dropped his arms to his side as he deflated like a balloon with a hole in it. All the life seemed to seep from him leaving him a shell of a man.

Tears sprang to his eyes and fell in a slow race down his cheeks. "I never should have settled for being her friend. I should have tried harder to show her just how much I loved her. Do you know what heartache is like?" he asked them but didn't wait for any answers. "What am I going to do now? How am I supposed to live?"

"There are groups that can help with lose," said Brennan in a soft voice.

Seth looked at her, a mix of rage and sorrow on his face. "You don't understand. She was the reason I went to work. The reason I got out of bed every day. Just the sight of her smile made the darkest day seem like the sunniest desert afternoon. I feel like half my heart has been torn from my chest."

Booth holstered his gun and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a little white business card. He handed it to Seth. "I'm really sorry for your loss, Mr. Boone. Please, go down to the police station tonight and talk with this officer. He'll take a full report of the last time you saw Temira and get it to me. I promise you that we'll catch the person who did this to her."

The distraught man took the card, looked at it, and then at Booth. There weren't any words that he could find in his grief stricken state. After a few minutes he just nodded. Booth gestured to Brennan and they left him standing there in the empty apartment of his lost lover. Solemnly they walked down the stairs, each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't until they reached the car that one of them spoke.

"I guess I owe you a dinner now," Brennan said. Her voice sounded hollow and distant.

"As long as we can drink, I could really use a strong one right now," Booth added in a sort of agreement.

"So, tonight, after shift?" she asked as she climbed into the car. How he'd gotten it repaired so fast was still a mystery to her. Probably her tax money hard at work.

Booth started up the car and pulled out onto the road. "Sounds good to me. I know just where I'm taking you too. There's this new Italian restaurant that just opened up near my place. It's the kind of place you can dress down or dress up for. It's your choice."

"How about we dress somewhere in between? I don't think I own anything lavishly expensive," confessed Brennan.

"Alright, I'll swing by your place at about seven-thirty, eight-ish. Does that work for you?" Booth asked. He still couldn't believe that Brennan was holding up her end of the bargain. Not that it was in her nature to go against her word.

"Okay by me," she replied.

He dropped her off at the lab and headed back to his office to fill out paperwork on his day. Brennan returned to her office as well. A blinking light on her answering machine showed that she'd missed only one call while she was out. She pressed the play button and listened as her agent apologized for calling her at the office after leaving a message on her home phone but they really needed to discuss her next book. Brennan made a mental note to call the woman first thing tomorrow. There was still too much to do today before her dinner with Booth.

Angela gave a soft rap on the door. "Hey," she said after Brennan waved her in. "You looked a little frazzled, sweetie, what's wrong? Booth didn't get you into another shootout did he? Oh, if he did I'm going to beat him with my sketchbook."

Brennan kind of smiled at the way her friend protected her. "No, it wasn't a shootout. It's something much worse."

Angela's eyes grew wide. "Worse? Do I even want to know?"

"I agreed to have dinner with him. Tonight."

"Oh," Angela exclaimed, nearly jumping for joy. "A date with Booth? It's about damn time you two started dating."

"It's not a date. At least, I don't think it's a date." Brennan paused and then, with a worried looked said, "It's a date, isn't it?"

All Angela could do was nod her head in answer. Brennan was thinking about what she'd gotten herself into.