Another chapter with Booth's POV written by the amazing 5546Laura. This scene is from Season 1, The Girl in the Fridge. Please review! Are you all liking these co-authored stories?

~AlphaGirl13


Booth's POV by 5546Laura

Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror, and I wonder about the way things are. I wonder if I would really do anything just to close a case...you know, to just to get a conviction. At times, it seems like I'm playing a game, no holds barred. I mean, I'm a very competitive guy, and I play to win at everything, no matter what, whether it's a basketball game or a criminal investigation. So what would I do to win in a court of law? Would I bend the rules? Would I falsify evidence? Would I lie under oath? Of course not! That's the kind of stuff that can get a guy sent to jail. But then I think...would I betray a friend? Would I take advantage of someone who trusts me? And, yeah...I'm ashamed to admit it, but sometimes the answer is yes. Maybe it's one of those 'all's fair in love and war' deals...or maybe it's just me being a good for nothing bastard. I don't know...I wanna close those cases. I wanna get Cullen to notice me, so I can get a promotion...but is it worth damaging my friendship with Bones?

Our case was really tough. It was hard enough proving that the sleazeballs took advantage of a helpless girl, chaining her up and then drugging her with painkillers until she died. The other problem was we were up against a guy that Bones knew...one of her old anthropology professors, and I guess, from what she said, he used to be her lover, too, for awhile. I'm not sure how I feel about that, because I think he took advantage of her when she was naive, and for some reason, that really makes me angry. I mean, who does that kind of shit? Take a vulnerable young girl as a lover just because you're her teacher and she trusts you? Yeah, Stires is a no good jerk. Anyway, I think the thing was, Bones was trying to prove to him that she was a better scientist than he was, because she's really competitive, too, and she never, ever wants to lose at anything.

I'll admit...Stires is a likeable guy, you know...the jury consultant says that people 'love' him because he speaks to the average person so that they feel like they understand where he's coming from. Bones, on the other hand, doesn't give a flying flip if people like her or not. She's gonna stick to the scientific facts, no matter what, and nothing's gonna change her mind, including bitchy jury consultants. That's what makes her Bones.

And that's good, except...what are simple scientific facts to her genius mind are like ancient Greek literature to the rest of the world. She was spouting off all those facts when she was testifying, and she knew what she was talking about, but nobody else did. It made that joker Stires look like he was a great guy, you know, because he cared about making the jury understand. He was all touchy-feely, nicey-nicey, and the jury was a lot more comfortable with him. As far as the jury was concerned, he was a regular guy, and Bones was a robot reading the encyclopedia.

Yeah, that's unfair, but it's true. The jury doesn't get to know someone over a period of time. They just go by the first impression, and their first impression of Bones was that she was a cold, unfeeling genius. She was our expert, and if the jury didn't care about what she was saying, we were sunk, and I wouldn't close this case.

So...I decided to put myself in a position to win. I told the prosecutor to ask Bones about her missing parents. I'm not really proud of what I did, but I also didn't want the Costellos to get away with murder. I'll admit...I was being a royal jerk. I wasn't sure how Bones would react, but I thought the risk was worth it. I was in competition mode, and I wasn't about to let those lousy animals beat me at my own game.

We reconvened in the courtroom, and the prosecutor asked Bones about the damage to the victim's legs, and she used these huge scientific words. I could tell just by looking at the jury that they just didn't care anymore. The prosecutor could feel it, too. He glanced at me, and I nodded yes...take the plunge….and so he did, asking Bones about whether or not wanting the truth about her parents' disappearance made her what she is...an extremely well respected forensic anthropologist. She balked...she doesn't like to talk about that part of her life, but the judge told her she had to answer.

She knew who'd told the prosecutor...it could only have been me. The look she gave me...those icy blue eyes boring right through to my soul...it was the original 'if looks could kill' look. I knew I was going to be in trouble with her, and I wondered if maybe I had gone too far. Would it be worth it if I closed the case and lost her friendship? She's part of the reason I close so many cases to begin with. I held my breath as she started to talk….

"I see a face on every skull. Maggie Schilling is real to me. We can't break her down into little pieces. It doesn't matter if you think I'm boring or obnoxious, because I don't matter. What I feel doesn't matter. Only Maggie matters…"

….and I realize the jury is so totally into what Bones is saying. They're listening, and they're feeling what she feels. That was when I knew we were going to win this case.

After court I sprinted out to see her. I couldn't wait to tell her the good news.

"Bones, the Costellos are trying to cop a plea to a charge that won't mean the death penalty!" But I'm not sure she heard me, or if she did, she was so mad at me she just didn't give a damn about the Costellos any more.

"You had no right! There are some things that are private!" She was livid...I'm glad she wasn't packing heat, or I'd be dead. So I tried to give her an excuse for my behavior...I tried to justify my invasion of her privacy.

"Yeah, maybe you're right, but you know what? This was my case, too, alright? So nothing personal."

I know it was personal to her, but I told myself that she'd get over it, that she wouldn't hold a grudge...she'd understand. It's all about winning the case, right? The means justifies the end... or at least I hope so, because I was notified almost immediately about another case, and I was definitely gonna need her help with it.

"Hey, Bones…" I began as I stuck my head into her office, hoping not to get it bitten off.

She glared at me, her somber expression warning me that I'd better watch my step. "What is it? I'm not feeling very forgiving…"

"Yeah, I know...but we have a case." I flashed a dimple at her for good measure...most women can't resist my charm smile.

She almost did, though. She had to think about it a few seconds before she decided to come with me to the crime scene.

It was a very quiet ride to the Washington Monument and up the construction elevator until we got to the section where the body was. God, the crime scene was awful...someone had burned a body up there. Bones was being clinical...explaining about gender and age and accelerants, but I wasn't really listening. My conscience was bothering me. Bones had helped me a lot with solving cases...probably more than she really had to. She's the reason I've been successful...and I betrayed her trust. Dammit! How come I can't let it go? We won, didn't we? It was worth it, right?

"Hand me my bag." She was pointing at my feet, and I finally figured out what she wanted.

"Yeah, sure. Listen, do you want my coat or something? It's really cold up here." Good one, genius boy...give her your coat...then what will you do?

"If I did, I'd ask for it." Brrr...it just got a lot colder up here. Time to make my apology. "Yeah, sorry...and, um...I'm sorry."

She checked me over like I'm some sort of specimen or something. I guess she was trying to decide if I was sincere. "You had something to accomplish. You found a logical way of getting what you needed. I probably would've done the same thing."

I heaved a huge sigh of relief as we smiled at each other. She had forgiven me, and we were going to be okay.

I decided then and there that no case would ever be more important than our friendship, and I would never, ever do anything to betray her trust again. She's too important to me...I need her friendship too much to ever risk losing it just to win case.


Brennan's POV by AlphaGirl13

I don't know a lot about interpersonal relationships. I don't know the all the rules or restrictions, but I thought I knew the basics. I thought a painful memory shared in confidence was to be kept between friends. I thought some things were crossing a metaphorical line. Now I have to reevaluate. Booth seems to take anything I know about people and just destroy my expectations. Whether he improves upon my low standards of people, or makes me once again question my trust, he always changes my perspective.

In that light I ask myself, do I really hate him as much as I let on? No. I don't. But I don't understand the rules that allowed him to betray my trust in the way he did. Where are the rules that specify when it's alright to share a damaging past or a painful secret? Where are the rules that tell me when I should forgive and when I need to preserve my own well being? I don't know, and I really hate not knowing.

When that prosecutor asked me about my parents, I felt betrayed. I never asked Booth not to say anything, so technically he had not betrayed my trust. And yet, I couldn't stop the thoughts of anger and mistrust that clouded my mind. I suppose implying silence and confidence was not enough; I had to specifically ask for it.

I looked at Booth, knowing he was the only way for the prosecutor to obtain such information. Too many emotions clouded my rational thought, though I assume that is what the jury consultant wanted: me seeming confused and raw to the jury. An average, vulnerable person. But that's not who I am. My emotions are well guarded and well hidden. At least I thought they were.

I didn't want to talk about it. My past should stay just that: my past. I struggle with the loss of my parents every day, and I don't need to do so in front of other people. They disappeared for whatever reason, and I am not going to see them again. I have accepted that. Pain is fleeting, irrational, and unhelpful. There is no benefit to holding onto pain; it only makes one angry. So I dealt with my pain. I wrapped myself up in my work and my studies. I didn't dwell on the past. At least, I tried not to.

"Dr. Brennan. Your parents disappeared when you were fifteen. And no one's ever found out what happened to them. Isn't that correct?"

But the prosecutor wouldn't leave the issue alone, and the judge had to step in and ask me to answer. I'd been quiet for too long. I made eye contact with Michael before I spoke. He had flinched. He was no longer telling the truth. All of the stories he was making up in his testimonies were stretches, implausible explanations of hard evidence. He was not the man I thought he was.

"That's correct."

"It must be very painful. Is it fair to say that you've been trying to solve the mystery of their loss your whole life?"

"Do I want answers? Yes. As to how that's affected my behavior, which I assume is what you're trolling for, I don't put much stock in psychology."

"Is that why you wrap yourself in techno speak? So you don't have to feel how these victims remind you of your own parents?"

"How I feel doesn't matter! My job doesn't depend on it!"

"But it's informed by it. Or are you as cold and unfeeling as you seem?"

There was that word again: cold. I can't count how many times I've been called that in my life. I try not to let on, but that description always stings just a little. I am guarded for a reason. While emotions are just chemical signals in the brain responding to stimuli, I know they exist. I don't deny my emotions; I just deal with them on my own, in my own way, in my own time. That does not mean I am cold. I am just careful. I know how to feel; I have known pain, fear, comfort, attraction, betrayal. And just like the physical scars on my body, just because you do not see them, does not mean they are not there.

"I see a face on every skull. I can look at their bones and tell you how they walked, where they hurt. Maggie Schilling is real to me. The pain she suffered was real. Her hip was being eaten away by infection from lying on her side. Sure, like Dr. Stires said, the disease could contribute to that if you take it out of context! But you can't break Maggie Schilling down into little pieces. She was a whole person who fought to free herself. Her wrists were broken from struggling against the handcuffs. The bones in her ankles were ground together because her feet were tied. And her side, her hip, and her shoulder were being eaten away by infection! And the more she struggled, the more pain she was in. So they gave her those drugs to keep her quiet. They gave her so much it killed her."

Facts. Science. Proof. Those things should have been enough. But it wasn't. So I turned to face the jury.

"These facts cannot be ignored or dismissed because you think I'm boring or obnoxious because I don't matter. What I feel doesn't matter. Only she matters. Only Maggie."

Memories flooded my mind. Memories of wanting to live. Memories of fighting until blood dripped from injured hands. Memories of refusing to give in. Just like Maggie. I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted everything to fade away and for silence to surround me. I felt closed in, trapped. Just like I had in that car trunk. I could so easily have ended up like Maggie. I could have died in that car and my foster parents would have just tossed my body away. Too many repressed memories have been dragged up during this case. Too many confusing emotions. Too much fear.

So I focused on the facts. The proof. I am not Maggie. I survived. I created a life for myself; I got away.

Only the victim. My emotions and personal experiences don't have any bearing on a case. I present hard facts, undeniable evidence. Of course my past influenced my future. That is the very definition of the a time line. However, I don't see how my parents' disappearance made me the scientist I am today. My studies, my intelligence, those are what contributed to my passion for science.

I don't understand why I'm less appealing to a jury. The only thing that should matter in a case are the facts. The science, the irrefutable evidence in the crime, should be enough to persuade them. Their decision is not supposed to be influenced by how I'm dressed or how physically attractive my opponent is. I could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that those people killed Maggie Schilling. And yet it took my past being exposed and my emotions bared for them to see for the jury to actually convict.

It was too much. Too much for me to be up there in front of dozens of people, watching me, judging me. I don't talk about my parents with Angela; why the hell would I talk about them to an entire room of people? The short answer is that I didn't. I avoided the issue; I didn't talk directly about them or my experience. As soon as we were dismissed, I walked quickly out of the courtroom.

Michael tried to stop me. I hesitated and turned, briefly contemplating responding to him. But he had also betrayed me. I had shared information with him, bounced ideas and theories off of him, and only later did he decide to tell me he was my opponent. No, actually, Booth had to tell me. Michael didn't even have the decency to tell me face to face.

So I turned silently from my old professor and walked away.

I don't understand the motives of people. Why withhold information? Was his aim to hurt me? Was he trying to get inside information on my findings or the case? Well, the bastard succeeded. He gained access to my private methods and processes.

"Bones."

There it was. That insufferable nickname. And yet, it no longer irritates me. It's almost...sweet.

His voice stopped me. And as I turned, I tried to find the words to express my emotions. He couldn't have possibly known about my personal experiences. He couldn't have known of the pain I'd seen, and yet I still found myself hurt and confused by his comments to the prosecutor. But Booth kept talking, not giving me a chance to speak.

"The Costellos are trying to cop a plea to a charge that won't mean the death penalty. You know they're going down."

I should have been happy that we were likely to win, but I wasn't. I was too focused on the questioning I had just fled from, and yet I wasn't focused at all. My thoughts were everywhere; the chemicals in my brain were causing torrents of emotions. Anger. Hate. Betrayal. Pain. Confusion.

Anger. I could focus on anger. I could understand anger.

"You had no right!" I spoke harshly, releasing the fury I had been withholding. "There are things that are private!"

But when I continued, I heard my voice break, betraying the concealed pain that I felt so keenly. I had told him those things in confidence. I had trusted him...

"Yeah. Maybe you're right. But you know what? This was my case too. Alright, so, nothing personal?"

That made me hesitate. His case too? Was he making a logical argument? I had almost grown accustomed to his emotional responses. And yet, there he was, giving me a rational reason for his break of confidence. He had needed to close his case. He needed a conviction, and I was metaphorically the weak link in the chain.

Without waiting for an answer, Booth walked away.

oo0oo

I sat at my desk, staring at a picture of my parents. The photo was more than 10 years old, but it was one of the few things things I had left of them. Most of their belongings and family heirlooms had been left in the house when I was put into the foster system. I have tried to track down some of it to no avail. Who ever moved into our old house probably trashed a lot of our things.

I sat silently, letting the memories play out. The picnic at the park was my favorite. It was my fifteenth birthday. I smiled slightly at the picture, silently reliving my best memories.

Angela walked in, and I slid the picture back into my drawer. She spoke quietly, making small talk and trying to get me to go out. But I didn't feel social. I just wanted to focus on facts and science. So I declined, truthfully saying I just wanted to work. Spending time alone in bone storage always helps me sort through emotions I don't understand.

But Booth quickly followed, interrupting my quiet thoughts.

He whistled to get my attention. "Hey Bones."

"What is it? I'm not feeling very forgiving."

"Yeah I know. But, uh...we have a case."

He smiled at me. That charm smile that he always uses to try to get me on his side. I hesitated. A case. He was extending a peace offering, an olive branch. Even I could understand the significance and anthropological importance of a gift. Booth must have felt that he offended me, and so felt the need to make up for it with something he thought I would like.

His case too. He had said it was his case too. He needed to convict those people, either for his professional career or his personal balance sheet. Perhaps it was both. I suppose there was some merit in the jury consultant's words. It's plausible that the vocabulary I was using was too advanced for the jury.

So I stood up. I grabbed my kit, and I went with him. I accepted the offer. I accepted his non-verbal apology. But I didn't respond. We stepped onto the construction elevator in silence. I thought about his words. It was my case too. So if he could give me a logical argument as to why he would betray my trust, did that excuse his actions? What were the rules pertaining to when disclosing private information was deemed ethical versus cruel? I closed my eyes and fought against my own thoughts. But I couldn't chase away the one statement that kept returning. You never would have done that.

I tried to tell myself that I would have. If the conviction had rested on Booth's past being revealed, I would have told the prosecutor. You would never have done that. But I actually wouldn't have betrayed his trust so blatantly. It was illogical. Why would I preserve his trust over convicting murderers? Because you have no friends. A snide voice in my head continued to berate me. As much as I hated it, I knew I would not have done to Booth what he did to me. I had been alone since I was fifteen, and I was an outsider before that. I only had Angela and Booth. I had to preserve those relationships, or I would be alone again. I would never intentionally reveal him the way he did to me. But, I could still see the logic in his reasoning. He deserved to be forgiven. So I would forgive him. I have forgiven him.

Booth touched my shoulder and I jolted from my thoughts. We stepped off the elevator onto the platform. And the first words I spoke to him were facts concerning the body. I listed off observations while he jotted them down on index cards. I bent over and reached to examine the eye sockets. But my bag was by Booth's feet, and in it, my gloves.

"Hand me my bag."

"Yeah, sure. Listen, do you want my coat or something? It's really cold up here."

A typical male show of attempted chivalry. I wasn't cold, and I didn't need his stereotypical efforts to appease me.

"If I did, I'd ask for it."

He looked surprised. Perhaps I spoke too harshly.

"Yeah, sorry...and, um...I'm sorry."

He stuttered an apology. A verbal one this time, lacking anthropological significance or typical male tendencies.

I looked him up and down. He deserved forgiveness. He did something I would never do, but he wasn't me, and he was logical in his execution and his reasoning.

"You had something to accomplish. You found a logical way of getting what you needed." I said quietly.

But then I paused. I was unsure what to say next. What were the rules to this? Should I tell him that I would never repeat his actions? Should I explain how I had too much to lose to betray a friend like he had revealed me?

"I probably would've done the same thing."

I didn't explain anything. I lied.


In case you didn't read any of the bolded words throughout this chapter, I'll say it again. Booth's POV was written by the amazing 5546Laura. Please review this story. And let me know if you are enjoying these collabs!

~AlphaGirls13