A/N: Thanks yet again for all the wonderful words from everyone, I'm so pleased that people seem to be enjoying this as much as I love writing it. I got lots of feedback saying that bigger is better (insert inappropriate sexual innuendo here), so this is definitely a long one – but not intentionally, it just seemed that dear old Jack had lots to say. Hope you enjoy it!
Oh – and please note that in my world, Roxy never happened. Maybe someday I'll understand where the writers are going with the whole Ang/Roxy thing and maybe I'll love them for it, but right now I just don't see it. So… she's gone. Poof. No more Roxy in this Bones-verse.
Day Four: Hodgins
Booth snored like a drunken logger. And he talked in his sleep, too – Jack went to private boys' schools for a lot of years growing up, so he was used to roommates from hell. But Booth? Booth was a nightmare – mostly because it seemed like, at least tonight, he was having one nonstop from the time his head hit the pillow. At first, Jack felt bad for the guy – he'd had his share of crappy dreams after the whole buried alive thing, so he knew how much it sucked. But around three a.m., when Booth was still tossing and turning and snoring and talking… It was a little tough to find the compassion, that's all he was saying.
Sweets also talked in his sleep, but he'd have whole goddamn conversations in the middle of the night. The first night, Jack thought they were having this deep discussion about life and bugs and some Jungian thing the psychologist kept mentioning, until all of a sudden Sweets switched gears and started talking about his mother's strawberry shortcake. So, between Booth and Sweets and their non-stop pillow talk, Jack was pretty much convinced he was in hell. He looked out the tent flap only to find that it was still dark out, with no sign of daylight on the horizon. He thought of the night before, and the big question around the campfire:
Who would you sleep with?
Jesus.
Angela, and Angela, and Angela again.
But of course he couldn't say that, because she was giving him that 'Please don't make this harder than it has to be,' look, and so he kind of gave her the eyes and said,
"I think you guys all know who I'd sleep with – I don't exactly make a secret of it."
And Angela looked at him, and then stared at the ground with that guilty look she had, like she'd crucified his puppy instead of just broken his heart. He cleared his throat, looked across the campfire, and said,
"Sweets – I can't keep it inside anymore, man." To which the whole group busted up, relieved that he wasn't going where they'd thought he was going. "Those bee-stung lips, those spaniel eyes, those twelve-year-old girl hips… Come 'ere, buddy, let's make this thing happen."
He stood as though making a move for the psychologist, who blushed and laughed and generally was a good sport about the whole thing. Angela looked at him then – those gorgeous eyes of hers sweet and low on his, smiling that sad smile that she'd had ever since the split.
'You, you, you,' he'd wanted to say. 'Anytime, anyplace – with consequences or without, No morning after or a million of 'em.'
But that would've been pathetic, and he was done with that. So, instead he'd walked her to her tent without kissing her goodnight, forced a smile, and left her.
Oh yeah, he was in hell.
After another fifteen minutes of lying there waiting for sleep that clearly wasn't coming, he finally gave up. He crept out of the tent with his sleeping bag around his shoulders and went to the fire pit, which was now just a pile of blackened coals and gray ash. Starting the fire kept him occupied for a good half-hour, while he listened to the crickets – at first he'd thought they might be Gryllus firums, but the song told him immediately that he was off base; this was clearly Acheta domesticus – besides which, the sand field cricket rarely strayed farther north than Delaware, so he was obviously losing it. Nope, nothing but a common house cricket, scratching its little legs together with wild abandon. He listened more closely. Huh – okay, maybe Gryllus pennsylvanicus made more sense.
It was beginning to bug him (pun definitely intended), so he decided he'd just put it out of his head and focus on something else.
Belle and Tripp slept in a smaller tent off to the side of their site, while the girls' tent was right beside the guys. The fire was going well now, so he set his sleeping bag down beside it and lay down. He kind of liked the idea of Brennan, Cam, and Angela all curled up together just a few feet away. And okay, yeah, logically he knew that they weren't sleeping in oversized t-shirts or Victoria's Secret panties or anything, but somehow that didn't stop his head from going there.
It was a cold night, so they'd have to huddle together in the tent – for warmth, right? That only made sense, especially since Dr. B only had that football jersey… Jack closed his eyes, enjoying the rush of blood flowing below the belt now. The scene played out in his head, full Technicolor and digital surround sound.
Angela would say something about how much she missed him – the companionship, sure, but she also had needs. Needs that sometimes only another woman could understand. And Cam would nod understandingly, the shine of the moonlight accentuating the contrast between her dark skin and that pink teddy riding up her thighs.
Jack licked his lips, looking around quickly to make sure he was still alone as his hand wandered past the elastic band of his sweatpants.
We all need that special touch sometimes, Cam would say soothingly. She'd reach out to stroke Ange's hair, but then Brennan would say,
"Is there any coffee?"
Jack opened his eyes, pulled his hands out of his pants, and sat bolt upright – to find Dr. Brennan staring down at him. She definitely wasn't wearing a football jersey, either – well, she might've been, but if she was it was buried under about a dozen other layers. Her hair was standing on end, and one side of her face had ridges on it from sleeping on… corduroy, maybe? Whatever it was, it wasn't her best look.
"Dr. Brennan!" he tried to curl himself up a little more in his sleeping bag, waiting for his hard-on to dissipate.
"What are you doing up so early?"
She sat down on a nearby rock, a wrinkle in her forehead.
"I'm usually a very sound sleeper, particularly when I'm out in the wilderness like this. But for some reason tonight I didn't that tired."
He nodded, trying to figure out if she knew what she'd walked in on. Or out on. Which of course she couldn't, because… well, sleeping bag. And it was dark. And she was brilliant, sure, but she sure as hell was no mind reader. So, he was safe. God, he hoped he was safe.
"Yeah, same here." She looked confused. "About the sleeping, I mean." He decided not to mention the part about his tent mates from hell – let Dr. B find out for herself, if she ever decided to go down that road.
They fell silent. According to his watch, it was four-thirty in the morning. The crickets had long since retired, but every so often he could hear an owl calling off in the distance, hollow and kind of surreal. Dr. Brennan wasn't talking, but she didn't seem to be listening, either – she looked lost in thought, that wrinkle in her forehead still prominent.
Jack didn't push her – partly because he didn't want to intrude, partly because he wasn't so great at heart-to-hearts… Especially not with his boss. He made coffee and handed it to her without a word; she looked up, like she was surprised he was still there.
"Thank you," she said, and she kind of reminded him of the way a kid is when they're just learning manners; very deliberate, like there was a voice in her head saying, Don't forget the please and thank you. Which made him like her even more than he already did, for some reason – and that was saying something.
"The others are still asleep," she said, and he wasn't clear on whether she was asking or telling, so he just nodded. "It's very pretty here," she added, looking around like she hadn't noticed it before.
Jack nodded again. "Yeah – I like all the evergreens, that smell in the air."
He thought about explaining that there were only evergreens because of all the granite – which kept the topsoil loose and made it difficult to retain nutrients, closing the door to all but the heartiest vegetation. Spruce, fir, a few white birches… Not much else would grow in this kind of soil.
But she probably already knew all that stuff, so he kept quiet.
By the time Belle and Tripp finally got up to ring the cowbell, Brennan had drifted back to sleep by the fire and Jack was wishing he'd been able to catch at least a few more Zs himself – or at least finish what he'd started before Brennan interrupted. Once everyone was up and around, though, he comforted himself with the knowledge that at least he wasn't the only one off his game.
The whole morning felt a little weird, to be honest. Jack was tired and short-tempered, and he really didn't feel like being there anymore – not with the packed schedule and the crappy food and the loaded glances between him and Angela. The day before had been hard, a ton of people with crappy lives that he couldn't help, and after that kind of overload all he really wanted was to lose himself in the lab for a day or two, let the work do its magic. But obviously, that wasn't an option.
Booth didn't come out of his tent until everyone else – including Cam and Angela – were up, and when he did he had circles under his eyes and his usual lighthearted banter seemed forced. He went and sat down by Brennan at the fire, and Jack felt bad for the guy when she didn't even look up, apparently too busy studying a bunch of plants she'd gathered from the area. Booth wasn't the only one having trouble with the ladies, though – Angela had barely looked at Jack since she'd stumbled out of her tent, which didn't make a hell of a lot of sense since last night they'd been laughing and joking and generally having a good time.
But that was Angela, so what the hell.
By the time the run and dip came around, Jack was grateful just to have something to do to get himself out of his head. He found himself competing with Booth at the end of the line again, but this time Booth had this weird wired vibe coming off him, so Jack slowed down a little and let him push past without a word. He followed close behind, landing in the water a second or two after Booth; they both swam back to the ladder and climbed up without a word, not waiting for anyone else to finish.
At the morning meeting, Dr. Brennan was still cataloging her plants. Jack caught Booth looking at her a couple of times, but the agent didn't sit beside her and he didn't go over again. Angela was sketching again, but it wasn't her "I'm in love with the world" sketching, it was her pissed off, "Leave me alone or suffer the consequences" sketching, a wrinkle of concentration in her forehead and her shoulders hunched over the sketch pad to keep the world out.
Tripp took the stage in short order, announcing that they'd hit the halfway point – like that was some big accomplishment or something.
"So far, you guys have done great – we've been really impressed with how well you work together, the care and compassion you bring to your jobs and to one another."
Jack almost snorted out loud at that one, but he managed to contain himself while Tripp continued.
"Day four is almost legendary for pushing the envelope emotionally – you might start to feel some tension where you haven't before."
Jack looked around the circle, noting the distance between people, the hunched shoulders, the loaded glances. No shit, Sherlock, he thought.
And then Sweets started in, and the day just got worse from there.
"You guys have been in close proximity and high stress scenarios for several days now – you can think of this as a very apt metaphor for the work situations you face on a daily basis. As you begin to experience the very natural feelings of resentment or anger, sadness or loss, I want you to try to go inward and name those feelings – don't run from them, embrace them. Express your pain, don't repress it."
Everyone groaned at that, and Sweets looked genuinely pissed off – he switched gears in about an eighth of a second, obviously choosing to embrace his "Express, not repress" mantra.
"Fine – you know what, you're right. Stuff it down, by all means. You're right and I am completely wrong. Sure, I have a PhD and have spent literally hundreds of hours studying the emotions of people in high pressure positions like yours. But clearly, you guys have it all covered."
Tripp raised an eyebrow, and Sweets finally – mercifully – shut the hell up.
"Sorry, Tripp," Sweets said, "Please continue."
"Lance actually does have a point, though," Tripp started up again. Jack zoned out at that point, thinking of the types of marine life native to the shallows of the island, wishing that he had specimen jars with him to catalog his findings.
Any other day, Jack would have been over the moon to pick Angela's name out of Tripp's freakishly oversized Outward Bound hat. Today, though… He'd seen that look in Angela's eyes before, and he'd learned a long time ago what the look meant: Stay as far away as possible, until the storm had passed and the seas were clear again. Somehow, sitting on the other end of a two-man kayak didn't seem like a safe enough distance.
That wasn't the only bombshell of the day, however. Once partners had been divvied up – Booth and Cam together, and Sweets and Brennan – Belle and Tripp told everyone that they were giving up their roles as navigators. They handed over the compass and navigational charts, gave the group their destination, and announced that it was up to the six of them to reach an island about ten miles north/northeast of their current location.
All hell broke loose. Booth was convinced he should take the lead; Jack would have argued the point more, but one look at Angela convinced him that there was no way they should be leading the pack. Brennan tried to steamroll the FBI man, but he basically ignored her – and everyone else.
"Army sniper. Decorated officer. What part of this do you people not get?"
"Yes, but when we were in London you couldn't even navigate the roundabouts without becoming severely agitated," Brennan insisted. He glared at her.
"Well, that's because everything in London is a roundabout, and I was in a stupid clown car with the steering wheel on the wrong side – " He pulled himself up short. "Look, I'm taking the lead – end of discussion. Besides, Cam here's got tons of field tracking experience – "
Based on the look of confusion on Dr. Saroyan's face, Jack guessed offhand that that was a lie.
"So," Booth continued. "We'll lead. It only makes sense – you guys just follow close behind, don't get too distracted by the bugs or the plankton or whatever, and we'll be there by noon."
It was like he was baiting Dr. B – he even looked over at her, like he was waiting for her to fight him. But she didn't. Instead, she turned to Sweets and told him she was taking the stern and got in before he could say a word. Angela told Jack to take the back, which he'd expected – she hated navigating anything, said it was too much responsibility. When they used to go on trips together, she'd always sit in the passenger seat watching the world go by in that way she had, never missing a single detail, never the least bit concerned about whether he was going too fast or had taken a wrong turn.
About an hour into the trek, with the sun full on them and the world gliding by, it seemed like Angela was relaxing more. Much as Jack hated to admit it, it did seem like Cam and Booth made a good team – Cam had the chart and compass while Booth handled the steering, shouting directions back to the rest of the group every so often. Booth seemed pretty intense about the whole thing, but Jack figured that was just the whole military thing coming out. Really, the only ones who didn't seem to be getting into the groove were Sweets and Brennan. At one point, Jack and Angela were close enough to overhear their conversation – not that it was that tough, because Dr. B was definitely not whispering.
"I told you, I prefer not to discuss that – here or anywhere. Sometimes, I think you intentionally choose subjects that you know will annoy me, just to see my reaction – as though you're experimenting with me again. If Booth found out…"
The wind swept the rest of the conversation away, but Jack quirked an eyebrow at Angela.
"What do you think that was about?"
She shook her head, but it was obvious she was intrigued. "Who knows."
He paused, not wanting to give up now that he'd finally gotten her talking. "So… Did she tell you about the whole rock star thing? She was going to right – after you jumped in the water that day?"
Angela looked over her shoulder with a little grin. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Not really. He honestly didn't care – so Dr. B dated a rock star. He had his own list of secret honeys he'd take to the grave; he wasn't all that concerned about Dr. Brennan's. He shrugged.
"She didn't tell you, did she?"
Angela gave him that look she always used to give him when he wouldn't play along – a quick eye roll, a hint of a smile on the left side.
"I told her not to. Booth cares way too much – he should hear it first."
Jack smiled at this – it was the kind of thing that made him like her so damned much. A more comfortable silence followed, before he interrupted with another question.
"She sure is in a lousy mood today. Any idea what that's about?"
One sure way to get Angela talking? Ask her about somebody else. Sure enough, she turned to Jack and rolled her eyes, for the first time that day showing some genuine interest.
"Please – like you don't know."
His eyes widened. "Apparently, you overestimate my deductive powers when it comes to the fairer sex."
She smiled sweetly – he felt dizzy for a second, then forced himself to get a grip.
"I think you're pretty perceptive, more often than not. And I think you know it, so stop fishing for compliments."
He shrugged, not sure how to respond. "Well, maybe I'm just off my game on this one. Why don't you spell it out for me."
She lowered her voice. Jack kept one eye on Booth up front, but pretty much everything else was focused on the kayak, the steady rhythm of the paddles in the clear water, and Angela's voice telling him the way it was.
"So – last night, we're all around the fire and Bren – whether it's the full moon or that time of the month or just a helluva good day with her favorite FBI guy – lets her guard down. Snuggles up. Falls asleep in Booth's arms, with the whole world watching…"
"She's freaked out," Jack summarized.
Angela nodded wisely. "Oh yeah, Jack – freaked with a capital FREAK. The whole wedding hug thing? That's nothing, compared to this. She got all quiet in the tent last night, wouldn't talk to me at all… Did she say anything to you when she got up?"
Jack replayed the scene in his mind, then shook his head after a second or two. "Not really – thanked me for the coffee, said it was really pretty out. But that was it."
Angela nodded again, like this somehow confirmed what she'd just said. "Oh yeah," she said, almost under her breath. "She's freaking out."
It wasn't that Jack wanted them to be lost at sea or anything, but somehow it would've been nice if Booth had at least a little trouble getting them where they were going. Instead, they hit their target island at just after one, just when Jack's stomach had really started rumbling. They set up camp in a clearing not far from the beach, and ate more nuts and berries and these ridiculously dense homemade power bar things that Jack was sure would keep him regular on into his nineties. Then, they circled up yet again while Tripp and Belle told them their latest plan for torturing the group.
"We're definitely psyched that you guys were able to get here without any help from us," Belle explained, in her chirpy Disney princess way. "But it just seems like there wasn't that much teamwork involved."
"What are you talkin' about?" Booth piped up. "There was tons of teamwork. Cam and me led, everybody else followed, and presto – here we are. Sounds like pretty good teamwork to me."
Jack noticed that Cam wasn't sitting next to him anymore, which made him feel a little better – apparently the teamwork hadn't been that perfect.
"It's true that you achieved the physical goal, but sometimes the way you reach a goal is just as important as the achievement itself," Tripp said. Jack rolled his eyes, but kept quiet. Booth didn't.
"That doesn't even make sense. If you have something that you need to do, you figure out how to make it happen and then you do it. If you sit around and talk about it – who wants what, who feels what, whatever – then all you end up with is a whole lot of talk and nothing gets done."
"But in the long run when you're working with a team," Sweets said, and for a second Jack actually thought Brennan might hit him. "Continually discounting the individual goals of each member begins to erode the working relationship between the group. This morning when you decided that you would take the lead to get us here, you completely disregarded the role anyone else might have played in facilitating the achievement of that goal."
Booth just looked at him. "Huh? Why can't you just speak English for once? We're all here – everybody's in one piece, and we got here on time. What the hell's the problem?"
"He's saying that if you had involved the group more in the decision making process," Dr. Brennan said, but Jack noticed that she didn't quite meet Booth's eye when she spoke. "People might feel less hostile about your leadership style."
"Hey – nobody's hostile about my leadership style, Bones. I've got a great leadership style."
Angela sighed, and Jack was right there with her. Before anybody came to blows, Tripp stepped in once more.
"I think this would be a great time for a teambuilding exercise that will hopefully give you guys a little more trust in how you work together."
Belle got up and retrieved a pack that she unceremoniously dumped in the middle of them. About two dozen sashes of different colors and lengths lay on the ground between them – Angela looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he grinned.
"Wow, looks like Valentine's Day last year."
She actually blushed, which was weirdly satisfying. Tripp picked up a bunch of the sashes, and told everyone to stand up.
"All right – your goal is to retrieve five golden eggs we'll place around the campsite." He went to Booth, and Jack definitely saw the instructor smile when he said the next words.
"Seeley, you're goin' in blind. You'll have use of your arms and legs, but you have to listen to the others if you want to be successful."
Booth put up a pretty good fight, but in the end Belle and Tripp had the final say. Before long, all six of them were trussed like Christmas geese, and Jack wasn't real excited with the afternoon ahead of them.
Everyone but Angela and Sweets were blindfolded, but they both had their hands and feet tied. They were each set up on opposite sides of the campsite. The rest of the group was blindfolded with their hands bound, which meant Angela and Sweets had to verbally direct them to each of the eggs and then it was up to the remaining four – Cam, Booth, Brennan, and Jack – to figure out how to pick each egg up and return it to a basket at the center of the campsite. The teams were Booth, Jack, and Angela against Brennan, Sweets, and Cam, and the only question on Jack's mind was who was gonna have a meltdown first.
"This is like some bizarre form of torture," Jack complained. "Don't they have something about this in the Geneva Convention? Water boarding's fine, but no tying people up to hunt for fake gold eggs?"
With the sash around his eyes and his hands tied behind his back – a little too tight for comfort, too – Jack tried to focus on his surroundings. You know, kind of get in touch with his inner Jedi. Belle put her Disney princess hands on his arms and pushed him to the center of the site, where he bumped into Booth and nearly tripped on Brennan.
"Ow! Watch it," Booth warned, and it was clear from his tone of voice that he wasn't enjoying this.
A minute or two later, he heard Tripp say, "All right – eggs have been placed. Go to it."
"Booth – you there?" he ventured into the darkness. Booth answered from about six inches from him, which made him realize how completely disoriented he was.
"Yeah, I'm right here," Booth said. "Ange? You ready for this?" He raised his voice, and Angela answered immediately.
"I'm about six feet – or maybe eight feet, away from you guys. Okay, now I want you to turn to the left – sorry, sorry: my left, your right. Turn to the right, and take four steps."
Easy as pie. Except that Booth kept bumping into him, and then once they finally reached an egg Ange directed them to go too far and Jack stepped on it. He was slightly comforted to know that the other team was faring no better – apparently, Brennan wasn't listening to Sweets at all, while Cam was trying to do all the work herself to make up for her teammate's absence. At the end of an hour of wandering around blindfolded with the sun beating down on them, they ended up with a tie – two eggs in each basket, and six very pissed-off looking teammates rubbing rope burns from wrists and ankles, while Jack wondered what the hell he'd done to deserve this kind of punishment.
Even Tripp and Belle looked a little unnerved at the monumental lack of cooperation. For the hundredth time since the whole Outward Bound nightmare began, it was time to circle up again. Belle cleared her throat, looking at each of them like she'd just realized they were lepers or something.
"Well… That was an interesting exercise to watch, from our perspective. It seems like there are some trust issues that you guys really need to work on, before you can reach your full potential."
No one said a word. After a minute or two of just staring at the ground – more granite, Jack noted, impenetrable and almost impossible for growth – Tripp finally stood.
"All right, guys – you've already put in a hell of a day, so how about taking some time out for a siesta. We've got a night hike coming up this evening, so just chill for a while."
Jack saw Sweets exchange a look with Belle and Tripp that seemed significant, and just barely heard him whisper, "Are we doing the Crack?"
They both gave him a look that clearly said shut the hell up, which he did, but Jack didn't like the grin on Sweets' face.
"Take a walk, get some sleep, get some space," Tripp continued. "Whatever you need to do. We'll meet back here at dinner, in three hours."
Which Jack spent sleeping, thank you very much. It was hotter than hell, and his beard itched, and despite scrubbing down in the ocean a couple times a day, he was beyond ripe at this point. He stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt, slathered on the sunscreen, and slept on top of his sleeping bag out on the beach, where he could catch at least a hint of a sea breeze every now and again. He didn't dream, he didn't snore, he didn't move. He just slept, and was grateful, at least, for that.
Everyone was quiet at dinner, but at least it seemed like the tension had eased off a little. Then once dinner was done, they sat in another goddamn circle around another goddamn campfire, while a full white moon rose over the water. Tripp pulled out another goddamn question, and this time Jack was grateful – at least it'd give everyone something to talk about.
"Okay, guys," Tripp said, obviously trying to lighten things up. "The question for day four: Have you ever been arrested, and if so, what for?"
Everyone laughed a little – not a lot, but it was something. They started with Sweets, who Jack just assumed had never been on the wrong side of the law. Apparently, though, he was wrong.
"Well, uh – it was college, first of all, so things were a little different then."
"You mean way back in 2004?" Jack asked, which got a laugh.
Sweets smiled. "Very funny. No, I mean I was a little different then. But uh… Indecent exposure. Streaking, actually."
The laughter went up a notch at that, and Jack felt himself starting to relax. Tied up in the hot sun with Booth as a partner and only Angela to guide him to safety? Not a great way to spend the afternoon. But hanging around the campfire answering stupid questions was probably something he could handle, more or less.
Booth and Dr. Brennan were on opposite sides of the campfire, which for some reason really bugged him. And Angela was off in space again, sitting between Booth and Tripp… Jack took another breath, silently ordering himself to get his head back in the conversation.
Cam was next, but she just shook her head. "No way – I told you, I was a good girl."
"Not that good," Booth quipped, but he shut up when Cam gave him a look.
"Sorry to disappoint you guys – no arrests for this girl."
"There's no way the bass player for Phallic Friction didn't at least bust up a motel room somewhere along the line," Sweets insisted.
She shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint my fans, guys. Who's next?"
Booth was next in line, but he shook his head. "Same here," he said quickly, and if that was Booth's best poker face, Jack definitely wanted in on that game. "Clean as the driven snow. Ange?"
Angela just stared at him. "Hang on there, buddy – I'm gonna have to go with dare on that one."
Booth looked at her blankly, but Jack knew exactly where she was headed. He grinned.
"What? What do you mean, dare?"
"I mean – you're totally lying. So if you're not gonna tell us the truth, you have to take a dare."
"I'm telling the truth, all right? Never arrested. Mostly," he added under his breath, just loud enough for the rest of the group to hear.
"That's what I thought," Angela said dryly. "See – don't try to put anything over on me, Seeley Booth. So, do we get the story or are you taking the dare?"
He looked up at the instructors helplessly. "Nobody said anything about truth or dare – can she do that?"
Tripp shrugged. "Don't ask us – everyone else seems okay with it, it's up to the group."
Since no one else was leaping to his rescue, Booth finally shrugged. "Fine – dare."
Angela grinned at him. "Oh, I am so getting that story out of you before the week's out." She looked around the fire, building the suspense – something Jack knew firsthand she was uniquely gifted at. Finally, she rolled her eyes and Jack couldn't help but feel a little disappointed – she was letting him off easy.
"Fine – Go sit by Brennan."
Booth looked doubtful. "Is that it?"
"Just go over there, all right?"
He did, so Jack had to move over to make room – and then had to move over some more, because Booth was sitting a good two feet away from his partner. Angela sighed.
"A little closer, please?"
Booth scooted closer, then looked at Angela grudgingly. "Okay?"
Angela looked undecided, but it seemed like Brennan was about to head for the hills so, thankfully, she nodded.
"Okay. For now."
Which made it Brennan's turn. She paused for a few seconds, definitely looking more uncomfortable than Jack had seen her in a good long time.
"I was only arrested once, when I was sixteen. So ultimately it was expunged from my record."
Booth looked at her in surprise. "Wow – what'd you do, Bones? Break into the chem lab for some late-night squint science?"
She hesitated, but only for a second. "I was arrested for vandalism, after I dumped cow's blood on the altar at St. Vincent's Cathedral – near where I grew up. And I broke some things." She paused. "And I also stole one of the saints and put him in a neighbor's trash bin."
Booth's eyes went wider than flying saucers and his eyebrows almost shot off the top of his head.
"You what?"
She turned to look at him defiantly. "There were extenuating circumstances which I don't care to discuss. But I don't believe in God, and I didn't then – so whatever significance you bring to the story, did not hold true for me."
"Bones, you threw blood on an altar. In a church. Geez. How can you not see that's a bad thing?"
Sweets interrupted. "We're not actually here to pass judgment, Agent Booth – we're just trying to open up a little. No one should be persecuted for being honest."
"Well, no – sure. Not like they should be persecuted for dumping blood on an altar and stealing a saint," Booth said, looking significantly at Brennan, who just gave a little eye roll of her own and kept quiet.
When it was Jack's turn, he thought about making something up before he gave up on the idea as too much effort. What the hell.
"I Ferris Bueller'd my dad's car when I was seventeen," he said.
Brennan looked at Booth for an explanation.
"He took it for a joyride," Booth told her. "Then wrecked it?" the agent looked to Jack for confirmation.
Jack nodded. "Oh yeah – totaled it. Only unlike Bueller, I was in it when it wrecked. Head-on collision, cherry red '66 Cobra versus tractor trailer."
Angela stared at him. "Oh my god – were you all right?"
He thought for a second, remembering the speed and the rain and the road. And the pain – he remembered that pretty well, too.
"Broken ribs, internal bleeding, busted my head up pretty good – I was unconscious for a couple days."
"And your father still had you arrested?" Sweets asked, in that shrink tone Jack was coming to know a little too well.
"People call my old man a lot of things, but they don't call him soft. Yeah, he had me arrested as soon as I came to – I was convicted of grand theft auto, it's on my record and everything – no expunging that baby. I did a lotta community service that year, I'll tell you that much."
Nobody said anything for a few seconds after that, and Jack was starting to feel uncomfortable. He looked up at the sky, noting that the moon was high overhead now.
"So… Aren't we supposed to be hiking or something? Or do we have to wait until everyone's completely exhausted for that?"
Tripp and Belle exchanged a look, and Jack got that uneasy feeling again. There wasn't any reason to, of course – he'd been doing night hikes since he was a kid, in remote places all over the world. Just listen to the bugs, focus on the trail, and he'd be fine.
The hike took about an hour, traveling straight up to the top of the island. It was a warm night, damp sea air on the back of his neck and the night sounds all around them – owls, bats, crickets, mice and other unidentified rodents scurrying across the path every so often. Once they'd almost reached the top, the path was blocked by two giant granite boulders placed shoulder to shoulder, a small space of light in between.
Jack's blood pressure ramped up about sixteen notches when he saw the sliver of light, remembering Sweets's question earlier: "Are we going up to the Crack?" Jack swallowed, his mouth suddenly very, very dry.
Shit.
Belle stopped them about a foot from the boulders, her voice hushed.
"So, this is the Crack," she said, confirming Jack's suspicions. "We come out here on the full moon, and as corny as it sounds, it's kind of our version of a rebirth – you start from this kind of narrow perspective, and really try to think about what you'd like to leave behind. Move up through the Crack, and when you emerge you're confronted with an entirely new, wide open world of possibilities."
Jack waited for someone to laugh, for Booth to make a joke or Brennan to point out that it was impossible for people to be born twice… But no one said anything. His heart was hammering in his ears, and he had a nest of hornets – Vespa mandarinia, the world's largest hornet, the one with the giant stinger and the six separate toxins all designed to drop a man where he stood – roiling in his gut. Suddenly, breathing seemed a hell of a lot more complicated than it had just a few minutes before.
He felt Angela's eyes on him, but he just shook his head – willing her to stay quiet. Or no – maybe say something, tell them all, so he wouldn't have to.
Tripp spoke up. "Are any of you claustrophobic?"
And Jack should have raised his hand, should have screamed "YES!" But he didn't. Angela was watching him, waiting, but he knew she wouldn't say anything because she wanted him to be a grown up and speak for himself.
Zack would have outed him in a heartbeat, he suddenly realized. Zack would have said,
"Hodgins is claustrophobic – he got rid of his shower and installed a giant bathtub after he was trapped in the car with Dr. Brennan. And he won't ride in elevators anymore, or get his jacket out of the closet without the light on and the door open as wide as possible."
And it would be out, everyone would know and he wouldn't have to do this. He would yell at Zack, and Zack would say,
"But it's true," in his most logical robotronic Zack voice, and god, how he missed that voice.
They approached the mouth of the Crack – Tripp in front, Belle at the back, Sweets second in line followed by Cam, Brennan, Angela, Jack, and Booth. He'd tried to outmaneuver so he wouldn't be next to Booth, didn't want to hear that voice mocking him if he fell apart, but in the end that was the way it worked out.
They moved forward.
Angela paused just before the entrance, and he heard her whisper something that he couldn't hear and knew he wasn't meant to, and he stood back and let her have her space. And then she was in and it was his turn, so he closed his eyes and tried to think of what he wanted to leave behind but really, mostly all he wanted to leave behind was this – this stupid crack in the rock and the terror it was inspiring.
There was no room to maneuver once he was in. He had to go in sideways, his shoulders pressed back and his chest crushed tight and his arms stretched out on either side to make himself thinner. There was granite in his nose, scraping up against his cheekbones, pressing into his sternum and his groin and his knees. Up ahead, Tripp had some problems getting through – not because he was freaked out, just because he was a goddamn giant, but eventually they heard him call from what sounded like somewhere up above.
"Made it!"
Sweets' voice came next, then Brennan's, but now he'd reached a tight spot and there was no light and Jack's pant leg snagged on a rock. He told himself to breathe, just breathe, it was only a few feet more and he'd be out, but there were the hornets in his gut again and he was shaking, his palms sweating against the rock, no light and no space and no air.
"Jack," he heard Angela say, from somewhere a thousand miles off. "I can see light up ahead – we're almost there."
Booth was just behind him, shimmying sideways, and Jack waited to be the butt of the joke, and hated himself and hated Booth and hated Zack for not being here to suffer through the whole thing with him. But the joke didn't come – he felt a hand at his leg, and suddenly his pant leg wasn't snagged anymore and Booth was talking low in his ear.
"You're okay, man. One step at a time, you're almost out of it."
He felt Angela take his hand, and he crept another foot – the space so small now that he was pressed sideways with his chest constricted and his head swimming.
And another foot. He could hear the others up ahead, and he thought again of Zack – Zack would like this, he decided. He wouldn't understand the point of most of it, but it'd do him good. As he reached the opening, he realized that he was crying; he reached up and wiped his tears away roughly before anyone could see, and when he finally came through his hand was still in Angela's and the world was wide open.
The moon fell on a deep black sea far below, his friends seated together at the top of it all, waiting for him. He sat on the cool granite, and Angela kept her hand in his and rested her head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, and the hornets in his stomach disappeared. His heart slowed. Opened them again, and his friends were still there, and Angela's hand was still in his, and the world was still wide open around him. Booth came over and Jack watched him sit down beside Brennan without a word, and maybe it was just the moon or the darkness, but it seemed to him that she moved in a little closer once the FBI man was beside her. Jack smiled to himself.
They made it through the Crack.
TBC
Phew – That was a very difficult day. Let me know if it fell flat or felt OOC or just seemed to go on and on, I really do just love the feedback! Thanks for reading!