Title: Deja Vu

Disclaimer: Language, violence

Chapter Ten: Smack

"Bones," came the sound of her name, breaking through her foggy mind. She stirred, not wanting to wake up. She'd fallen into a dream that she wanted to see end, she had to know the outcome. Whoever wanted her attention could wait a little while longer. It wouldn't hurt, sleeping a little longer. She'd earned the sleep, the right to recharge her body.

"Bones, wake up," the voice said more firmly. This time the person squeezed her hand, exerting a lot of pressure. She winced and her eyes opened. That's when she realized she had fallen asleep at the hospital. Her back ached from the uncomfortable chair that had put her in an awkward position. Her hair felt dirty and disgusting. This wasn't how she was used to waking up in the morning. Her eyes fall on Booth, who was conscious and looking at her.

He gave her one of those half smiles. "Why are you here?"

"I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was just going to stay for a while, to make sure you were okay," she explained, letting go of his hand and sitting up straight. Why had she stayed? That was a good question.

"Bones," his voice was beginning to fade a little. "You're late for work."

Her eyes followed his to the clock that sat on a table near the bed. She should have been at work an hour ago. "Oh shit," she cursed, jamming her feet in her high heels and grabbing her purse. "I hate to leave you but I have to get to work. I'll swing by at lunch and see if I can take you home."

He gave her a small smile as he drifted off to sleep again. All the way home she couldn't rid herself of the guilty feeling that gnawed away at her insides. She was going to be late for work because she went out to have fun. She was having fun while a skeleton sat on a table, waiting for her answers to track down a killer. This wasn't like her at all. She had never been late for work before. When the weather looked unfriendly she would leave early to make sure she got there on time. What was Dr. Goodman going to say? He couldn't possibly be mad at her. It was an honest mistake, something that never happened before, and would never happen again, she scolded herself.

Running up to her apartment, now an hour and a half late, she threw off the high heels and shimmied out of the torn dress. Five minutes was all she allowed herself in the shower. The hot water felt great and was inviting, she could have stayed there for hours enjoying the feel of water rushing over her skin. But she didn't have the time. Quickly drying herself with a towel she threw on the first functional pair of clothes she came across; khaki slacks and a black blouse. Transferring stuff from her little black bag into a more suitable location she chanced a glance at the clock. Now she was nearly two hours late. Her boss was going to chew her out. She just knew it. Even though she flew down the streets, racing to work like a madwoman she still ended up nearly three hours late. How could this have happened? How could she allow herself to fall asleep at the office where there was no alarm clock to wake her in the morning?

Racing into the building she ran right into Zack. "Hey, slow down, turn around and go home," he advised her.

She straightened her shirt and looked at her young charge. "Is he that mad at me?"

"That man's on a warpath," Zack whispered as he swept by her.

Her shoulders slumped. Great, not only was she late but she'd made things harder for the rest of the team. What would be the best way to handle this? I should just talk to him, she thought as she walked up the stairs, maybe if I explained it wouldn't be so bad. Feeling a touch of resolve she decided to head for Dr. Goodman's office. Turning around she found him standing behind her, anger burning in his eyes.

"Dr. Brennan, how nice of you to join us this morning," his voice was tight and guarded.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Goodman. I went out last night and things happened. I lost track of time," she apologized in hast. "Booth-"

"Listen to me, Dr. Brennan. You are a good anthropologist, the best this lab has every seen. I will not have you ruining your reputation, and ours, because you had to sleep with an FBI agent. Which, if I must remind you, is a work relationship. Perhaps you should think about this better. You are a scientist for crying out loud," Dr. Goodman barked at her, forgetting to hold his anger in.

She wasn't sure what possessed her to do it but once her hand was in motion there was no stopping it. The smack echoed in the quiet lab, sounding more like a gunshot. Dr. Goodman put a hand to his cheek, fire burning in his eyes. He couldn't believe that she had hit him, neither could she, but he had crossed the line.

"For your information, Dr. Goodman, if you had let me finish you would know that I was at the hospital. Booth was admitted last night," she snapped at him, trying to force the tears that sprang to her eyes back down. "I was late because I fell asleep sitting beside his bed. I did not sleep with him. And what the hell does it matter to you if I did? Last time I checked that was none of your business."

With that said she turned on her heel and made way to her office. She passed Hodgins and Angela, both of them had witnessed the exchange. Brennan didn't know if there would be any repercussions from hitting her boss, but if blow came to blow she could claim some form of sexual harassment; couldn't she? He had not right to talk about her personal life, or in this case, what he thought was her personal life. Closing the door to her office she finally let the tears fall. It wasn't like her to cry, not in a place so public. It made her look weak and she didn't like that. But everything had gone wrong.

There was a knock on the door. "Go away," she said, trying to hide her sorrow in her voice.

"Sweetie, please open the door," Angela said.

Hearing her concern, Brennan let her slip inside before closing and locking the office door behind her. She didn't want anyone else intruding on them.

"Don't worry about it," soothed Angela. "He can't very well press charges. He had it coming anyway. Where does he get off assuming that you're sleeping around like that? It was only dinner. How is Booth? Is he doing better?" Angela put a hand comforting hand on Brennan's shoulder, always the best friend a girl could have. Brennan made a mental note to try and treat her better.

"He was doing fine this morning, a bit groggy," she replied. "I'm going to drive him home on my lunch hour. I don't think anyone else can get him. You know those FBI types, always busy, busy, busy."

Angela smiled. "And what about the dinner, was it a lovely night, you know, before…?"

Brennan thought about it and found herself smiling. "Yes, it was a good night. It felt nice to go out and forget about the world for a few hours. Is it always like that?"

"You bet, and it gets better," assured Angela, nodding her head.

That's when Brennan remembered what had happened. "I tore my dress trying to get an out cold Booth back in the car."

Angela gave a little laugh. "Who cares about torn dresses when you're in love?"