Title: Deja Vu

Disclaimer: Language, violence

Chapter Eight: Down Poison

Brennan stood in front of the mirror that hung on the wall in her bathroom. She'd never really paid attention to her looks but tonight was important. Tonight she had a dinner date with Booth. The restaurant he wanted to take her to required a dressy appearance. How did she dress-up for this occasion? When was the last time she'd even been to a fancy restaurant? For the umpteenth time she wondered why she even made this date. Had it been worth the information gleamed from the dead girl's apartment? And would Booth think it was something more than it really was?

About to give up on the entire affair she was reaching for the phone to cancel when there came a knock at her door. Wondering who it was and praying that it wasn't Booth she opened the door. There stood Angela, a bag in her hands and a smile on her face.

"Angela, why are you here?"

"For you silly," she replied, holding up the bag. "I thought you might want some help."

Relieved that she didn't have to risk hurting Booth's feelings by canceling she grabbed Angela and dragged her into the apartment. "Where do we start?

"Just come with me, you're in good hands," Angela said, grasping Brennan's hand in her own and leading her to the bathroom.

A half-hour later everything was set. Her make-up had been done and her hair styled in a red-carpet way. The dress she wore hugged her curves and gave a hint of cleavage. It had been tucked away in her closet, where she'd gotten it or why was something she couldn't remember. The shimmering blue fabric would be perfect for the evening. Angela came breezing out of the bedroom, a gold chain dangling from her hand. Brennan recognized the gold chain and sapphire pendant as a necklace that belonged to her mother. It would look great with the dress. Angela drew it around her neck, closing the clasp.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Brennan, a hint of nervousness in her voice. Why did a simple thing like dinner make her nervous?

Angela smiled, a lone tear falling from her eye. "You look gorgeous. Booth is one lucky man tonight. Every other guy out there is going to be jealous of him."

"I don't know about this," Brennan said, having second thoughts.

"You'll be fine, sweetie," replied Angela, turning Brennan around so that they faced each other. "It's about time you got out in the dating world. You need a good guy, and Booth is a good guy. He cares about you, protects you, and you already know that he's a great father. What more could a woman want? The guy has a great body, a sense of humor, and I just know that there's a tinge of sensitivity in there somewhere. The only problem I can think of is that you're both career driven. That could put a damper on the relationship."

"It's not a relationship," defended Brennan. "It's only a date. And I don't think that's even the right word. It was more like a deal."

Angela smiled as someone knocked softly on the door. "You just keep telling yourself that, sweetie. But we woman have urges that need satisfaction." Giving her a kiss on the cheek, she said, "Have fun. I'm going to clean everything up and lock-up after I leave. Don't you worry about a thing."

Nervously, Brennan went to the door. Biting her lip, and feeling like a childish fool, she pulled open the door. There stood Booth, handsome as ever. The black suit he wore differed from the suits he wore to work. It looked oddly like a tuxedo. The black pants and suit jacket were spotless, something Brennan didn't think she could have managed to do. He wore a pristine white shirt and had a deep blue vest on over it.

He smiled. "Great minds think alike." Their blues nearly matched in tone and depth. How had he known she would wear blue? "You look absolutely beautiful this evening. I'm going to be the envy of every other man."

This caused Brennan to blush, something she didn't think she'd ever done. "Thank you. You look pretty nice yourself. Shall we go? I believe you have a reservation and we don't want to be late," she said, grabbing the little black purse that had been hanging with the dress. Inside she had slipped her house key, her identification, her cell phone, a small flashlight, and a pair of latex gloves; just in case. Life was unpredictable and she never knew when she'd get a call to look at a dead body. Just because she was on a date didn't mean she couldn't be ready. Booth probably had his FBI badge and service weapon with him somewhere. It was in their blood. They lived their jobs.

She stepped out of her apartment, closing the door behind her. Booth helped her down the stairs. She hated wearing high heels. They just weren't right for her life. How had she let Angela talk her into wearing them? Continuing his gentlemanly ways he opened the door of the SUV and helped her inside. She felt a little out of place. When it came to Booth she liked to keep their work relationship just that, seeing each other in the office. Now here they were going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant and he was treating her like a princess. How would this change things?

They drove along in silence. Both of them thinking about the night ahead. Usually they would have a case to discuss but now that they were on their own terms it was a little hard to find a topic. Where should they start the conversation? Booth couldn't ask Brennan about her family because he knew her parents were gone and she didn't talk to her brother. He didn't want to talk about work; it was time for some non-work related conversation. Time to learn a few new things about each other. Wasn't that the whole point of dating? Was this even a date?

A valet took the car from them when they got to the restaurant. Booth slipped his arm through Brennan's, taking her by surprise. Now they looked like a real couple. Walking side by side they were lead by a smartly dressed maitre d' to their table. The white table cloth was topped with two settings and a burning candle and some sort of green plant. Booth ushered the man away so that he could pull out Brennan's chair for her. She continued to feel awkward as she realized that people were watching them. Booth sat across from her, spreading his cloth napkin over his lap.

"Why are people watching us?" she whispered, leaning toward him.

Booth looked around. "Well, if they were, they aren't now. Relax, Bones, it's just dinner and some small talk. I think we can handle this. After all, we are both professionals, we both know how to talk, and last time I checked we both knew how to eat."

She smiled at his comforting voice; how was he so calm when she felt like a bundle of nerves? Their waiter came over to ask them about appetizers and to get in a drink order. Booth order wine of some sort, the name eluded Brennan. Unfortunately she wasn't exactly a wine aficionado. The bottle was brought right to the table and the aroma of the liquid filled their nostrils. She took a tentative sip. Hopefully she wouldn't get drunk and lose all control over herself, not that she felt afraid for her safety around Booth. Angela was right about him, he wanted to protect her.

After ordering their dinners- he got lasagna and she went with spaghetti- they both settled into an uncomfortable silence. Brennan had a look around the elaborately, yet tastefully decorated place. The walls were deep red, complementing the mahogany wood floor. The lighting was just right for romance but not so dim that she couldn't see the other patrons. Someone standing near the corner in a waiter outfit looked familiar to her but she couldn't quite place him.

"So," Brennan said, breaking the silence, "how's your son doing?"

Booth smiled at her thoughtfulness. "He's doing great. He wishes he could see me more often but between work and my ex it's just not possible. I'm thinking of taking a few days off next month. Maybe take him out to the zoo or something like that. Just spend a few days with him."

"That sounds nice. He's lucky to have a caring father like you," she remarked. She couldn't help but wondering if she'd ever have kids, did she even want kids? She sipped her wine, trying to take her mind off the question if Booth would want more kids.

Their meals were delivered in a timely manner and both of them being rather ravenous, they dug right in. The food tasted as good as it smelled. The chef knew how to make the taste buds sing. Like a married couple they found themselves passing forks back and forth, trying each others meals. They talked about random things, mainly whatever popped into their heads. There was discussion of traveling and places they wanted to some day visit. They discussed movies and music, though Brennan didn't have much to say on either topic because she didn't really follow either one. No sooner were the dinner plates whisked away than a plate of some delicious looking cake was placed on the table.

"We didn't order that," Booth said, giving the waiter a look.

"It's on the house, sir. Already paid for by a friend," the older man replied. He left before giving either one of them a chance to protest.

Shrugging his shoulders Booth took a spoonful and tasted it. He made a face that Brennan couldn't comprehend. "That's…interesting," he said after swallowing. He pushed the plate away. She smiled, not bothering to ruin the delicious meal with a lackluster dessert.

The check was brought to the table and Booth paid it. Not even allowing her to take a glance at it and see the total. He kept telling her that it was his treat. She'd been the one to suggest the date and here he was, paying for what had to have been an expensive meal. Though the night seemed to have gone by fast Brennan realized it was much later than she thought when they stepped outside. The night air greeted her, wrapping her in its embrace. The valet went off to get the car, leaving them out front alone. She looked at Booth.

"Are you feeling okay? You don't look so well," she said, taking in the fact that he swayed on his feet. He hadn't had more than two glasses of wine, surely that wasn't enough to make him drunk.

"I feel sort of sick," he confirmed. He appeared to be sweating. Maybe he was coming down with something.

"Give me the keys, you are not driving anyone home," she said, shoving her hand at him. He obliged by dropping the keys into her open hand. That's when she noticed that he was shaking. The night was cool but not enough to make anyone shiver. "On second thought, I think I'll take you to the hospital. You really don't look well."

"How kind of you to say that, Bones," he remarked, trying to be witty and not really coming off that way.

The valet brought the car around and she ushered in him into the passenger seat. Driving down the road she kept glancing over at him, making sure that he looked okay. He leaned his head against the glass of the window, his arms folded over his chest. Ten minutes away from the hospital he moaned.

"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered. She quickly flipped on her blinker and pulled over the side of the road. He appeared to the slide out of the car, stumbling in the grass like a man who had too many drinks at dinner. Brennan climbed out to check on him, to make sure that he was okay. When she got around to the other side of the car she found him laying on the grass, out cold.