(Fire in the Ice)

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

As far as Booth was concerned his situation was like stepping into an episode of 'The Twilight Zone'. To be a murder suspect was ridiculous. He was an FBI Agent and good at his job, but he recognized that he had to be considered a suspect in the murder of Pete Carlson whether he liked it or not. And he really didn't like it.

The world was full of Pete Carlsons. They go through life bullying people, playing with people's lives and not taking responsibility for the havoc they create. They hurt the people they know with no thought about what that other person is going through and most of the time that also shows up in the way they play sports. Carlson was a bully on the ice and most of the time he got away with it. As long as he wasn't caught he felt it was okay to play dirty and that grated on Booth's nerves.

Carlson had deliberately hurt Wendell when the referees weren't looking and Pete had thought he'd get away with it. Well, not when Booth was on the job. Carlson got the thrashing he deserved, but to end up dead later was not what the agent had counted on or wanted.

Being pulled from the case was bad enough, but to be forced to see Sweets in a professional capacity was outrageous. The psychologist had used the opportunity to delve into Booth's childhood, to talk about his father and that didn't sit well with Booth. He was letting Sweets write a book about him and his partnership with Brennan, but he never agreed to let the man look at his childhood. That was a path he wouldn't travel again.

After confronting Sweets in the observation room, the agent allowed him to ask a question, so Sweets took that opportunity to ask about something that had been worrying him for quite a while. "Underneath your affable exterior is a deep reservoir of rage. My question is, do you always have that under control?"

Angry that the younger man couldn't see that he was stepping over a line, Booth had snarled at the psychologist. "You know if I didn't, you'd be dead right now instead of just wincing . . . Don't every bring my old man up again." Furious, he had stormed out of the room and before entering the interrogation room, he had taken a few deep breaths and reentered the room to talk to Agent Perotta.

Too late to do anything about it, Sweets realized that he had crossed a dangerous line when it came to the agent and the sheer animosity that had come from the agent had sent a chill down his spine. He had winced and he knew it. Of course, baiting a skilled sniper wasn't the safest thing he could have done and he knew that Booth had come very close to striking him. The only reason the agent hadn't taken his anger out on him was because Booth did have tight control over his actions and rarely lost control. Which in a way, answered his question.

The fact that the agent had beat Pete Carlson during a game was due to the fact that Pete had crossed a line that Booth couldn't tolerate. He also knew that the agent would never murder anyone. It would destroy who he was and he'd die before that happened. Honor meant a lot to the agent. Sweets knew that Booth worried about turning into his father, but the psychologist also knew that was unlikely. It fascinated him that a man who had been abused in his childhood could control his rage the way Booth did. He knew that the rage was there, tightly tamped down and he hoped it would stay that way because if Booth ever lost control there would be serious consequences that would affect more than just the agent.

Oooooooooooooooo

Brennan had found it odd to consider Booth a suspect in Pete Carlson's murder. She had witnessed Booth beat the volunteer fireman during a hockey game and the consequence was Booth's broken hand. She had known Booth for five years and worked with him for four and she knew that he was not capable of murdering anyone.

He was a skilled sniper, a Federal Agent and in the past, he had only killed when ordered to do so by someone over his head or when the situation warranted it. Booth didn't kill with an easy heart or an easy mind. He felt each death and payed for it for weeks afterward with restless sleep and long periods of silence.

And yet the clues pointed towards Booth being the killer which she found fascinating. She noted that to those she worked with, but they seemed to take that information as her believing that Booth had killed Pete Carlson and that is not what she meant. Clearly, her co-workers took things too literally which was very annoying.

Much to her disgust, Booth's supervisor had pulled him from the case and had substituted another agent to work with her. Her displeasure clear for everyone to see, she had refused to work without her partner. Aware that she needed Brennan's cooperation, Perotta had invited Booth to work on the case with them as an adviser which satisfied Brennan and Booth.

The case moved rather quickly and once the killer was caught, their partnership resumed without Agent Perotta. Both Booth and Brennan spent a few hours ice skating that night to make sure that Booth didn't fall asleep. The concussion he had sustained while trying to get a sample of blood from a rather large State Trooper wasn't considered dangerous, but it was serious. His concussion had worried his physician and he had ordered Booth to find a way to stay awake for several hours. Booth thought skating would help and he had invited his partner to join him. Skating had been new to Brennan, but she did well enough and Booth only picked her up from the ice a few times.

The hours flew by and later when Booth was in his apartment, he thanked Brennan for staying up with him and skating with him. "Thanks Bones . . . thanks for helping me prove that I wasn't the killer . . . did you ever think I was . . . the killer I mean?"

"Of course not." Brennan crossed her arms against her breasts. "The idea was preposterous. I found it fascinating that the clues pointed towards you, but I knew that eventually a better suspect would appear . . . I know you Booth. You're not a murderer. You couldn't take someone's life just because they cheat at playing a game. There would be no honor in that."

"Thanks. I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Booth didn't often get compliments from his partner and he appreciated them when they were uttered. "Pete Carlson was a real bastard, but he didn't deserve to die for it. Hell, if we killed all the bastards in the world, we'd run out of room to bury them." Pointing over his shoulder towards his bedroom, Booth cleared his throat. "I think it's okay to go to sleep . . . It's late, if you want to stay you can have my bedroom and I'll sleep on my recliner. It's pretty comfortable."

"No, I'm fine." Brennan shifted the strap on her purse and smiled at her partner. "I'll probably be late to work tomorrow." Glancing at the clock on the wall, she chuckled. "I mean today. I advise you to stay home and rest today . . . I'm glad that the case is over and we can work together again."

He was tired, but Booth didn't want Brennan to leave until she was ready to. "Yeah, you and me make a great team . . . we always will."

"Although no one knows what the future will bring . . . I hope you're right." Brennan turned to walk down the hallway towards the front door. Pausing, she turned back and looked at Booth. "I enjoyed skating with you this evening. I hope we can do it again." Giving him a small nod of the head, Brennan left the apartment leaving her partner behind.

Staring at the closed door, Booth waited to hear the faint ping in the hallway announcing the arrival of the elevator. Satisfied, he moved into his bedroom, removed his shoes and flopped down on his bed. Sleep claimed him quickly and soon the only noise to be heard in the apartment was the faint ticking from the clock in the living room and a hum from the refrigerator in the kitchen.

Ooooooooooooooooo

Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.