Please note: Rating for this chapter is definitely a capital M.
First off – sincere apologies for the whole week it's taken to get to the next installment. Sadly, priority has to go to the writing that pays the bills, and there was a big deadline this week. Next week looks easier, and I should have part six up in the next few days at the latest. Thanks for the incredibly kind comments everyone is leaving, I'm really pleased folks seem to be enjoying the story. And now, without further ado…
Day Five: Angela
When she was nine, Angela went to summer camp for the first time. She'd been on overnights plenty of times before – traveling with her father, on weekend getaways with the artist colony where she lived when she was younger, on overnights with friends… Angela was no homebody, even then, so a week away from her family was hardly a big deal.
Predictably enough, she loved summer camp – the canoeing and the swimming and all the new faces, all the colors and textures, sounds and smells… There was something going on all the time, always something to watch or someone to sketch, something new and exciting around every corner. Oh yeah, she was totally into summer camp.
For about six hours.
The love affair ended when Angela decided she'd rather go for a walk in the woods alone than go swimming with the other campers. She was told in no uncertain terms that hiking alone wasn't an option – and neither was swimming alone, eating alone, or even just plain sitting alone. On the mile-long roster of fun-filled activities offered at Camp Okeegobee, solitude definitely was not on the list.
She ran away the next day.
When they brought her back, she ran away again. The next day, her father came and got her. He'd been a little confused at first – after all, she'd been running off to some mysterious destination or other from the time she was old enough to crawl out of his arms. Angie just wasn't the kind of kid who got homesick, so what exactly was the deal?
It was the year she got her first period and her breasts started growing – she cut her hair short in May, announced to her father that she was absolutely not wearing a bra and preferred to be addressed as Angelo from then on. They sat together in her father's VW bus, Angela sitting curled up in the passenger's seat while her father drove them home.
"I didn't miss you, Dad," she'd told him when he asked, rolling her eyes like he'd suggested something completely absurd. "I missed my time. My space." She looked at him seriously, already a girl who knew her heart very, very well. "I need a lot of space, Dad."
She may have gotten taller and left her training bra in the dust, but the whole space thing never changed all that much. Which was why that three-hour break Tripp and Belle had given them the day before was such a big deal for her. All it took was three hours on her own, and Angela had been able to take off into the woods with her sketch pad and no one in sight, and just do her thing. Get re-centered, remind herself who she was – because sometimes, surrounded by dead bodies and scientists and crime fighting, it got a little tough to remember.
She was Angela Montenegro, damn it.
She didn't get freaked out jumping into cold water; she didn't get pissy about being on an island or pooping in the woods or getting up at the crack of dawn. Okay, strike that last one – she really did hate getting up early. Nevertheless, she could do this. But – and this was the most important part – she was gonna do it her way. No more crappy games yelling directions at Booth and Jack while they tried to prove their manhood by finding Easter eggs blindfolded on a deserted island. That was most definitely not her way.
And so, when Angela woke up on day five (at the crack of dawn), she was happy to find that she was not actually feeling completely homicidal. Okay, not ready to exactly embrace the whole running-through-the-woods-and-jumping-into-freezing-water thing, but… well, she wasn't homicidal. Which she took as a definite step in the right direction.
Brennan was already up, her sleeping bag rolled up neatly in the corner and her gear organized beside it. Cam was sitting up in her own sleeping bag, glaring at her reflection in a tiny compact while she tried to rake a brush through her thick dark hair.
Tried being the key word here.
Angela winced just looking at her. "Wow," she said.
Cam turned and, before she remembered that she was supposed to be the boss and keep morale up, yada yada yada, she glared at Angela. Now she definitely looked homicidal.
"I think I'm gonna have to shave my head," she said, with just enough humor in her voice to set Angela at ease.
"Well, before you try that, hang on." Angela scooted out of her sleeping bag and over to her duffel, rooting through for a minute or two before she finally emerged, triumphant. She held three tie-dyed bandanas over her head like white flags, and grinned. She'd led a tie-dying workshop for a bunch of ten-year-olds at the local rec center a few weeks before, which meant she had a lot more of these things than she ever anticipated needing.
"A hippie's best friend," she said with a smile.
Cam looked skeptical, but she didn't put up a fight when Angela came over and deftly ran a brush through the tangled strands, pulling it into a ponytail and then topping it with one of the bandanas.
"There. Just consider this the latest in summer fashion – at least, in the Maine woods."
Cam actually smiled at this – and not one of those scary morale-boosting smiles she'd been giving since she got out here, the ones that made her eyes get really big and her eyebrows slide halfway up her forehead.
"Thanks, Angela. You're a godsend."
Angela shrugged, wrangling her own hair into the same 'do. "I know, I know. So, are you ready for another day of this?"
There was a moment of silence before Cam took a deep breath, got that scary-ass smile working again, and stood up.
"Oh yeah. Can't wait."
Like the first morning, the boys were already awake when Cam and Angela came out of the tent in matching bandanas. Brennan and Belle were with them – Belle was doing cute little yoga moves with Sweets and Tripp while Brennan argued about something with Jack and Booth, her voice rising just a little as testament to her annoyance.
"I already told you, I didn't believe in God – so there really wasn't anything so terrible about what I did," she insisted.
Jack just laughed, but Booth looked fit to be tied. "But it's disrespectful of other people, Bones. Forget the God thing, it's still upsetting when someone comes and dumps pig's blood all over a guy's church. I just want to know why you did it."
Angela and Cam joined them, and there was this split second where she caught Jack's eye and he smiled – not like a we're-together-now smile, and not a pining-after-her smile, just a… Smile. A good, solid Jack smile. She returned the favor, taking a second to assess the situation. Five days in the woods and pretty much everyone's personal hygiene had taken a nosedive, but Jack definitely took the cake. Another week and he'd be rockin' the full-on Grizzly Adams look, but even now he had a pretty respectable beard going.
With some serious restraint, Angela let the smile go and moved on to the rest of the group. Booth looked… well, he still looked pretty damned tasty, despite the patchy stubble and a less-than-sexy funk that, at this point, everyone was equally guilty of. Between the salt water, sun, sweat, and that crappy biodegradable soap they used, it was getting downright homey around the campfires at night.
Brennan's ponytail was cock-eyed and her hair was sort of matted, so Angela grabbed her before the games could begin, pushed her onto the nearest rock, and attacked her hair.
"Ow – Angela, what are you doing?"
"I'm fixing you, sweetie. I know you're a world renowned forensic anthropologist and a feminist and a strong, independent woman – "
"And a bestselling author," Brennan added, which made Angela smile a little.
"And a bestselling author," Angela repeated. "But your hair looks like homeless hair. And nobody wants that."
She adjusted the ponytail and topped it with the third bandana from her supply, then pulled her friend to her feet and turned her around so they were eye to eye.
"The men don't seem that worried about their hair," Brennan said. "Anthropologically speaking – "
Angela sighed. "Sweetie, I managed to get out of bed this morning without hating the planet and everyone on it, for the first time since we got here. Let's not push it."
"I should stop talking," Brennan interpreted.
"Only anthropologically," Angela said quickly. "If you want to talk about you vandalizing churches or wanting to sleep with my ex-fiance or dating rock stars, by all means, talk away."
Talking was pretty much out at that point, however, because it was time for the far from eagerly awaited run and dip. True to her resolution the day before, this time Angela did her own thing when it was time to head out, refusing to be a sheep any longer. Or a lemming, she guessed, was more apt since they always ended up jumping off a cliff at the end of the trail. She grabbed her sketchpad and her towel, laced up her sneakers, and ran for all she was worth. There was even a few seconds there where she was actually in the lead, before Sweets came out of nowhere and left everyone else in the dust.
This time, there was no pier to jump off – just a sort of rocky overhang that Tripp swore was safe as could be. As she stripped down, Angela thought again of her resolutions alone the day before. She thought of the things she'd left behind at the Crack – the fear, the guilt, the sadness. When it was time to jump this time, she didn't think, didn't take Jack's hand or wait to be talked into it or worry about what would happen when she landed. She dropped her bra and panties with the rest of her clothes, shot past everyone else, and dove.
The tips of her fingers hit first, and she tried to focus on the feeling of the cold as it swallowed her, stem to stern. When she came up, she realized that pretty much everyone was staring at her, of course. Sweets, Tripp, and Belle were already in the water, while Jack, Booth, Cam, and Brennan looked on from the rocks. Jack was grinning, that sort of proud grin he sometimes got, like he thought she was the coolest person he'd ever met. It struck her that it had been a while since she'd seen that grin, and she hadn't realized how much she missed it.
"Nice dive, Ange," he shouted from above.
She smiled. "Thanks," she shouted back. She was shivering, but still a little high from the leap and the cold and the whole naked thing. She swam back to the rocks in long, sure strokes, and was relieved to find Jack waiting at the water's edge with a towel.
"Is it cold?" he asked, and she didn't put her hands over her breasts or look away from him, just stood waist deep in the freezing water with her back to the rest of the group.
She shrugged. "It's not bad," though of course he could see that her nipples were tight as pebbles, and she had goosebumps up and down her arms. "Can I have my towel?"
He nodded, and then he gave her this sex smile he used to give her when they were making love – like he could see right through her, and it wasn't quite a grin and it might have been a smirk, except for the way his eyes met hers.
"Yep," he said, and handed her the towel. He didn't try to pretend he wasn't looking at her – she'd always loved how sort of certain he was with her. You would think a guy like Jack – a guy who made his living with bugs and slime – would be a disaster around women, but… well, he definitely wasn't a disaster.
"You going in?" she asked him, and he laughed a little, nodding ruefully.
"Hell, yeah. I need something to cool me down after that," and he stripped off his shirt and sweats and ran off to join the others.
Angela climbed back up the hill, got dressed, and sat sketching until it was time to go. The sky had taken on this kind of pale golden glow, streaks of tangerine and deep pink on the horizon, and she was caught for a second by the way Brennan was watching something Angela couldn't see, off in the distance. Her friend's hair was down around her shoulders, dripping wet, and her neck was arched in this perfect line. Angela closed her eyes, trying to memorize the posture so she could capture it later. She set pencil to paper, and was just starting to make some progress when it was time to go. Regretfully, she packed up pad and pencils, and followed the others back to camp.
That day, Angela picked Booth's name out of the hat. Cam and Sweets ended up together, which left Jack and Brennan. Ange thought of the day before – Booth leading the charge, barking orders and generally getting her completely discombobulated while she tried to direct them in that stupid blindfolded game.
She took a deep breath. Well, maybe yesterday Booth was the commando from hell, but she wasn't about to spend another day like that.
Damn it.
They circled up, and Booth immediately tried to take over again.
"Since it worked out so well with me in charge yesterday," he announced, "We should probably stick with that. Don't fix it if it ain't broke, right?"
Brennan shook her head. "That isn't fair – you and Cam both had your chance yesterday. Logically speaking, Hodgins and I are the only team who haven't had an opportunity to lead the group."
"Yeah, but Bones – did you see how fast we got where we were goin' yesterday? Cam and me had it wired… I'm telling you, we should just stick with the teams we had."
Angela glared at him, and he seemed to realize that he'd stepped in it.
"I mean – not that I'm not glad to be partnered up with you, Ange. I just mean, you know, you and Hodgins seemed…"
She raised her eyebrows at him, and he trailed off.
"Okay, fine – Bones and Hodgins are in charge," he finally said grudgingly.
Thank God. Jack and Brennan took the lead, with Brennan in the bow and Jack at the stern, both of them totally absorbed with charts and compasses and all that other stuff Angela didn't give a rat's ass about. Booth took the stern for the two of them, and Angela got in, faced forward, and took a deep breath. The sun was up over the water now, the ocean a deep, deep blue, no breeze and no boats and the only sound the banter between friends and the cry of the gulls in the distance.
And Booth, telling her how it was gonna be.
"So, Ange, I think we should keep as close to Bones and Hodgins as we can – you know, in case they run into any trouble."
She didn't turn around immediately, because she didn't want to beat him. She liked Booth – a lot, actually. Beating him wasn't the way to go, no matter how satisfying it might be at the time. Clearly, he just needed a little guidance.
"Listen, Sweetie," she said, purposely choosing the term she usually saved for Brennan. "This whole soldier of fortune, conquering hero thing you had goin' yesterday?"
His eyebrows went up a little, but he didn't say anything.
"Yeah. We're not doing that today. Today, we're doing our own little experiment."
He definitely looked uneasy at that. "What kind of experiment?"
She looked him square in the eye, aware that everyone else had started paddling and it was clearly killing Booth to be left behind. He had his paddle poised over the water and those sexy brown eyes on the horizon, watching everyone else move out.
"Today, Seeley Booth, I am in charge. You're officially at the mercy of an artist, Sweetie. So deal with it."
He looked around like he was trying to find someone to save him, but everyone else was long gone. Angela returned her gaze to the front, unable to hide a smile when she heard Booth mutter,
"I hate Outward Bound," under his breath.
Booth actually did surprisingly well taking time to smell the roses, once he knew he had no choice. He certainly did a hell of a lot better than Brennan ever would have, Angela reflected. Once he realized there was no way Angela was gonna be rushed through the day, it was like he just kind of let it all go. They kept close enough to everyone else to avoid getting lost or yelled at by the instructors, but their pace was slow and she was surprised by how quiet he was for a lot of the trek.
She turned around at one point, after he'd been silent for a particularly long time, and smiled when she realized that he was watching Jack and Brennan up ahead.
"So, we have something in common," she said.
He looked at her curiously. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
"We both want to sleep with Brennan."
He dropped his paddle in the water at that one, and it took a good five minutes of maneuvering before they finally got it back.
"We what?" he asked, once he had the paddle back in hand and they were pointed in the right direction once more. "Geez, Angela – why the hell would you say something like that?"
She glanced back at him, rolling her eyes. "Hey – you're the one who said it. The other night, around the campfire?"
She waited until the light bulb finally went on – maybe three seconds passed, before it finally clicked.
"Oh – right. But that was just fooling around – I mean hell, Jack said he wanted to sleep with Sweets."
She didn't argue the point, pausing to let things get comfortable again before she said anything else. When she did, she purposely kept her face forward, didn't change the rhythm of her paddle in the water.
"Yeah, but you must've thought about it once or twice. I mean, you guys work together a lot. Life or death situations. You can't tell me in all these years, it's never even crossed your mind."
He didn't say anything, but they had a good hour or more left of paddling, so Angela figured she'd just wait him out. It didn't take long.
"What about you?" he asked, and she couldn't keep from smiling at the curiosity in his voice. "Were you – y'know, serious about what you said? About wanting to sleep with Bones?"
"Of course," she said immediately. "Well, I mean not really now, because we've been friends so long that I don't really think about her that way. But – I mean, just look at her. The line of her neck, those cheekbones, the way she kind of chews on her bottom lip when she's nervous…"
"And that line she gets in her forehead, when she's thinking about something," Booth added.
Angela smiled to herself. Bingo.
"She's got those eyes, too – y'know?" he asked, and Angela just gave him a quiet "Mm hmm" to encourage him along.
"I mean – I've dated lots of good looking women. Trust me – really good looking women. A lot of them," he said emphatically, like she'd argued the point or something. "But I've never seen eyes like hers – not just the color, but there's that like… I don't know. Not intelligence, but…" he fell silent, trying to sort it out. Angela was quiet, waiting for him to continue. "She just has this thing, where she's almost like a little girl, you know? I mean – not in a creepy way, but in this vulnerable, kind of sweet way." He paused.
Angela turned around subtly and noted that he was staring off in Brennan's direction again. He shrugged, bringing himself back to earth. "I don't know, it's hard to explain – she just has pretty eyes."
She had to face forward again so he didn't see the grin that was practically splitting her face in two. She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop smiling. God, the two of them just freakin' killed her.
Once they were beached and had a chance to scarf down some really bad camp food, Tripp announced that they had a little over an hour to kill before the next big adventure. Before he could send them out into the woods tied together with only a stick of chewing gum to guide them to safety or something, Angela stood.
"So, we meet back here in an hour?" she asked, and there was only a second's hesitation before Tripp seemed to sense that she really, really wanted this hour.
"One hour – we've got a climbing instructor meeting us here at eleven."
Fine by her. She grabbed her bag, bid everyone a fond farewell, and headed for the hills. And it wasn't because she didn't love each and every one of them better than the sunshine itself, it was just…
Space.
She followed the shoreline until she found a little clearing on the rocks, out of sight of everyone else but not so far that she couldn't hear them calling for her when it was time to go back.
It was noon now, so that meant a full July sun overhead, hot on the granite rocks and reflected back in flecks of white gold off the water. Angela considered getting out her supplies, but it turned out she didn't really feel like sketching. She lay back on the smooth granite, savoring the warmth and texture through her t-shirt. Closed her eyes, and listened to the water lapping softly at the rocks, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees, the distant laughter of her friends. She thought of Jack for a second: that sexy smile he'd given her that morning; the feel of his hand in hers the night before; the way he always seemed to know when to back off a little, when she'd never actually dated anyone before who got that.
And then, somewhere not too far off, she heard a branch break. Then nothing, but she knew someone was there – and in all honestly, she knew it was him.
She sat up, and sure enough there he stood.
"Sorry, I – uh, was just looking for some space," he said, and she gave a little twist of a smile at his choice of words.
"Well, you found some."
He stood still, obviously not clear on whether she was kicking him out or not. She rolled her eyes.
"So are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna sit down?"
He looked surprised, but he nodded after a second. "No – I mean, yeah. Sure, if you don't mind."
She scooted over so he could sit beside her, and for a minute or two neither of them said anything. Jack scrounged around in his day pack until he seemed to find what he was looking for, and pulled out a small block of something wrapped in cellophane. She raised her eyebrows at the sight – the only remotely edible thing they'd had since the trip started.
"Is that a brownie?"
He grinned, just barely looking at her out of the corner of his eyes as he unwrapped his treasure. "Yes, it is."
"How'd you get an extra brownie?"
Still the grin, but now there was a little bit of a twinkle in his eye to go along with it. "I stole it," he said casually.
Her own smile widened, until she knew she was grinning like an idiot. "So, were you planning on sharing that brownie?"
He popped a piece in his mouth with a smirk, looking her full on this time.
"What'll it get me?"
She rolled her eyes, staunchly refusing to play that game. Reaching for her own bag, she focused on getting out her supplies and ignoring Jack Hodgins.
"Fine," he said grudgingly, but the word was seriously lacking in weight. He tore the rest of the brownie in half and gave her the bigger piece.
She pushed her pack away again, and accepted the offering. "Thanks," she said softly.
They ate in companionable silence, his shoulder against hers and a cooling breeze coming up off the water.
"So, you and Booth seem to be getting along pretty well," he said a little too casually, and she rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, Jack, we're great. He's really sexy, too. And single. Did you know he's in the FBI? I am totally marrying that guy."
Jack rolled his eyes right back at her, breaking into another grin. "Shut up," he said, without malice. "I just said you seem to be getting along."
"Well, so are you and Brennan."
"Who's also sexy and single," he noted. "Hey – maybe we could have a double wedding!" He paused, and she could tell he was debating whether or not to say something. After a second or two, his courage won out. "Oh wait – I forgot. You don't do weddings."
He was looking at her sideways, a little half-smile on his face, waiting to see if she would laugh or get pissed off. She punched him in the shoulder.
"Oh, you are so paying for that. Seriously, seriously paying," she said, but she was laughing when she said it.
"We'll see," he said, and that was when things changed.
Because all of a sudden he was right there, and he had the crazy beard and the Wildman hair and he smelled really, really bad, but she knew that smile and she knew exactly how his lips would taste, where his hands would fall when they kissed, what it would feel like to have his body pressed against her, where he was hard and where he was soft and where she could run her tongue to make him moan before they'd even started.
They sat there, looking at each other, and she knew that the first move would have to be hers and she would have to mean it and… To hell with it.
She leaned in and ran her fingers over his face – through his beard, along his jawline, letting her thumb trace the line of his upper lip while he just watched her, never took his eyes from hers. Everything went completely silent, and she didn't realize she was holding her breath until his lips were almost on hers and she breathed in, long and deep, and made the final move.
They kissed and his beard was rough on her face and his hands were in her hair, pulling her closer, and he kind of gasped when she pushed his t-shirt up, felt the muscles of his belly tighten. He pulled her shirt over her head and then they had kind of a battle with her sports bra (the single most unsexy undergarment in history, she thought dryly) before they finally managed to toss that aside, and suddenly his lips were following the line of her collarbone, his teeth teased her nipples, one after the other, and then moved down the flat plane of her stomach.
She pulled him up before he could go lower, suddenly breathless, something that had just been the tiniest smolder a minute before building to an all-out blaze at one hell of a pace. He took his shirt off and actually laughed a little when Angela began working on his zipper before he'd even had a chance to kiss her again. The laugh died in his throat, turning into a tortured moan when his fly was undone and she reached past his jockey shorts to find him hard and ready in her hands.
"Jesus, Angela," he whispered, his mouth at her neck when she peeled off his shorts and held his shaft in her hand. He was sitting awkwardly on the rock until she pushed him back so that he lay flat, naked and waiting. She leaned down, kissed his hip and then made her way along the hipbone with his hand in her hair, wetting her lips before she took his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip while she cupped his balls in one hand, teasing them with a fingertip.
She could feel him twitch in her mouth, and he quickly grabbed her by the shoulders to pull her back to eye level with him.
"Jesus," he repeated, now that they were eye to eye again.
He was naked; she was not. The sun beat down and the rock was hard beneath them, and Jack reached down to unbutton her shorts, smiling a little when he realized she wore no underwear. She pushed her hips off the rock so he could take off her shorts, and then they were both naked and he was looking at her, those blue eyes not missing a thing, until she couldn't stand the weight of those eyes. She kissed him, hard this time, reaching down to stroke him again before she turned over and lay on her belly. She raised herself so that she was on all fours, and looked back at him to make sure he got it.
He did.
He moved behind her, rose up so that he was kneeling as he ran a hand over her ass, laying kisses all along her spine. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound when he reached between her legs where Angela knew he would find her more than slick, more than ready. He pushed first one finger inside her, then two, ran his thumb over her clit until she bucked back against his hand and then he was behind her, positioned there, and then one perfect thrust and he was inside, his hands on her hips and Angela's eyes closed, every part of her focused on this instant, this feeling, the pain of the granite under her knees and her elbows, his body pressed tight to her before he began to move. He pulled out almost completely, and then slammed back in again, so deep he took her breath away, and there was the sound of their bodies moving together and the sound of his breath and then –
A sob. No other way to describe it, really. A cry, ripped deeper than he could even reach, and Jack stopped moving immediately and Angela only realized at that moment that she was the one who made that sound. She was crying, her elbows and knees bleeding, her nose running, exposed to the world with her ass in the air and nowhere to run. Jack pulled out without a word, and she had never, ever been so empty.
He rubbed her back, guiding her back to the hard ground before he grabbed his t-shirt and gently pulled it over her head. Then, he lay down beside her with his forehead on hers and ran a hand along her face, her arm, her back.
"Ange," he said softly. "I'm sorry, baby."
She shook her head, completely horrified to find that that made her cry even harder. She didn't even know what she was crying about, for God's sake – but she was crying harder. Finally, she shook her head and pulled him into another kiss, aware that her face was wet from tears and her hair was tangled and she hadn't had a shower in days. She pulled him closer, kept kissing him, and lay her leg over his so that his cock was pressed against her but he still wasn't moving.
"I want this," she said softly, looking at him steadily now.
He met her gaze. "Ange, maybe we should – "
But she didn't want to think about should right then. She cut him off with another kiss, guiding him up until he was poised above her, blocking the sun and the ocean and the world around. He held himself that way for a second, studying her, until his arms were shaking from the effort of not moving, and she put her hands on his hips to pull him down, pushed herself up to meet him, and he was finally inside her again. Her eyes sunk closed as the rhythm picked up and she felt the release building, moving in time with him.
He leaned down, his mouth at her ear, his hand tangled between them until his thumb brushed her clit in a perfect counter-stroke.
"That's it, baby," he whispered, and how many times had she heard those words, loved that throaty whisper? "Come for me, Angela."
She felt the wave then, the lights flicker and the world go dim while she clenched around him, holding on tight, trying to stay quiet and keep the tears at bay. She opened her eyes and he was still watching her, until she saw that he was close and his eyes finally closed. She watched as he bit his lower lip, felt the pressure building inside again at his own loss of control, and she began to move harder, meeting his quickened pace.
"God, Jack," she whispered, moaned, fought not to cry out. He came then, his lips crushed to hers and their bodies pressed tight, not a hair's breadth of space to be found between them.
They'd barely finished before she heard Tripp calling for them. Somewhere along the line it had gotten cooler out, the sun disappearing behind the clouds as the breeze picked up. Angela reluctantly handed him back his t-shirt, and they dressed in silence. Before they left, though, Jack stopped her with his hand on her arm, looking at her with those dead serious blue eyes again.
"Are you okay?" he asked, and she liked the fact that he didn't look away when he said it.
She nodded, hoping to God she wasn't about to start crying again. "Yeah. I mean – this… This doesn't mean everything's all fixed, Jack."
He nodded. "I know. I know it doesn't."
"I still…" she shrugged, at a loss. "I don't know. I don't know what this means, or what I want, or…"
He nodded again, still serious, still watching her. For the first time, he looked down for a second, with a little shrug.
"It's okay, Ange. I mean – really. We'll figure it out. You don't need to have the answers right now."
She nodded, but they held hands on the walk back, and she liked that. And that was something, right?
It all started after Zack left. Which was admittedly weird, because it wasn't like he was their kid or something. But in a bizarro kind of way, he sort of… well, he was what made them a family. When Angela first started going over to Jack's place, Zack would just randomly show up – no warning call, and of course no clue that he might be interrupting something. And so Jack had a talk with him, and Angela was sure it had been completely lacking in tact or subtlety because for two weeks after that, Zack didn't come around at all. So, Angela convinced Jack to go have another talk with him.
After that, even though he just lived over the garage, Zack always called before he came over.
"Are you guys having sex tonight?" he'd ask, in that bizarre point-blank way he had.
If they weren't otherwise occupied, Zack would show up with pizza or beer or, on one very weird night, a carafe of zinfandel and the Buffy the Vampire Slayer board game.
At eleven-thirty exactly, he'd get up, rinse out his dishes, and make the long walk home alone.
Angela grew up around artists and musicians and an endless supply of extended family, blood ties real or imagined. But the three of them felt… solid. At the end of a long day of horror and death and all that went along with it, she liked knowing that she could go home to their house and laugh and cook and hang out, safe and loved and part of something that mattered.
Until, of course, she found out that Zack had been sucked in by some lunatic serial killer who somehow got him to do his bidding. After Zack went to the institution, Angela would sneak up to his apartment over the garage sometimes before Jack got home, and she knew it was stupid but she'd just kind of sit there, on Zack's couch in the middle of Zack's things, and sometimes she'd cry and sometimes she'd just… remember. Or try to imagine what the hell he'd been thinking getting involved with Gormogon.
Jack didn't like it when she did that. He was sweet at first, but he didn't want to talk about Zack and he didn't want to remember the good times, and he didn't want to talk about what he was feeling or even how it had affected them. He wanted to find Grayson and get married – that seemed to be his solution for everything. He didn't sleep, and it seemed like the Gravedigger dreams were getting worse, but even then he still wouldn't talk to her.
The fact of the matter was, Grayson was a convenient excuse, but they'd been falling apart ever since Zack left. And Angela didn't know how a great fuck on a deserted Maine island was gonna change that.
But it was a start.
The climbing instructor was named Jeremy. He was tall and dark and impossibly good looking, and he really brought out the best in Belle and Tripp, who kind of relaxed and joked around while they led them on an endless hike to the middle of the island. Where, it turns out, they were planning on dropping everyone into a bottomless granite quarry, because… well, because it was Outward Bound. And this was apparently what these people did for fun.
They stood looking over the edge, into the abyss, and Angela saw Sweets kind of nudge Tripp.
"Hey, what happened to the ropes course?" he asked.
Tripp smiled, but not without compassion. "You've done the ropes course like a dozen times, Lance. Time to stretch some muscles."
He walked away, and Angela couldn't help but smile when Sweets said quietly,
"But I really like the ropes course."
Sex on the beach in the middle of the day was all well and good, but it didn't take long for Angela to realize that the aftermath was gonna be an issue. Because, she realized after a minute or two standing on the cliff, that she smelled like sex. And not just regular sex, either – she smelled like no-holds-barred, doggie style, five day funk sex. She had rock burn on her knees and she really wished she was wearing underwear, and there was no question in her mind that everyone knew exactly what she and Jack had been up to on their break.
Still, she tried to focus on what was going on around them, because… well, dropping into a granite quarry technically seemed to require a little focus.
She wasn't afraid of heights – never had been. Sweets, on the other hand, was sweating way too much and had gone about three shades whiter than usual, which was really saying something. Brennan looked a little nervous herself, but everyone else seemed… well, focused.
Angela looked up once to find Jack staring at her, and he didn't look away when their eyes met. Instead, he gave her a little smile, and she felt strangely better. Better than she had in a long time, actually. She returned the smile, the whole focus thing suddenly easier than it had been before. Tripp started to harness her up and, god, she really didn't want him near her when she smelled like this – she looked at Jack, and he was there before she could say a word.
"Hey, man – you mind if I do this?" Jack asked Tripp politely. Tripp looked uncertain, but Jack just smiled. "I spent a summer climbing in Nepal a year ago, and I've been spelunking pretty much all over the planet. You can double-check, but I've got this."
Angela gave Tripp an "It's okay" nod, and the instructor backed off. Since Jack already knew why she reeked and was pretty much responsible for it in the first place, she relaxed while he wrapped her in ropes and checked her helmet and double-checked knots and lines and links.
The women went down first, while the guys stayed up top on belay, an instructor spotting each of them just in case. She looked to her left, and smiled at the sight of Booth fussing with Brennan's helmet.
"I think it's too tight," he said, looking her dead in the eye. "Hey," he whistled through his teeth for an instructor. "Can we get a bigger helmet – Bones's eyes are about to pop out of her head here."
Brennan batted his hands away, but Angela saw the way she looked over the edge – it wasn't a good look.
"I'm fine, Booth," she said irritably. "It's supposed to be tight to protect my skull." She looked at Angela. "Is your helmet tight?"
Angela smiled, making an effort not to laugh because it did, actually, look like Brennan's eyes were going to pop out of her head. "Not that tight, Sweetie."
"There, you see?" Booth asked triumphantly, dumping a bag of helmets onto the ground and sorting through until he found a better size.
He unfastened the one Brennan was wearing, and Angela was impressed that she didn't push him away this time and insist on doing it herself. She just stood there with her arms limp at her sides, still looking over the edge uneasily every few seconds.
Once the helmet had been exchanged, Angela watched as Booth stepped a little closer. Completely undeterred by the knowledge that she was eavesdropping, Angela strained to hear him.
"You don't have to do this, you know," he whispered.
"I think I do, Booth," Brennan answered immediately. "It seems as though most of these exercises are compulsory."
He blinked a little at that. "Well, yeah – but if you didn't want to… I mean, really didn't want to, we could get you out of it."
Brennan looked at him, and he looked at her, and then damn Jack poked Angela in the ribs with a quirked eyebrow and she had to leave the Brennan/Booth channel and return to her own, regularly scheduled programming.
"Hey," Jack said, with a trace of laughter in his voice like he got sometimes. "Can we focus here?"
She rolled her eyes, because there was no way she'd be swapping out helmets and debating about whether she had to do this.
"I'm focused," she said dryly.
She looked to her right, and Cam was already poised and ready to go. Sweets tried to give the woman some sort of pep talk, but she just gave him that 'Oh please' look she was so good at, and he shut up.
And it was time for the leap.
"Now, you need to communicate with your partner," Tripp shouted over the rising wind. The sun had disappeared behind some menacing looking clouds some time ago, and it was getting damned chilly up on the ledge.
"Use the cues we gave you," the instructor continued. "Remember the line tugs and the language to make sure you keep your partner safe at all times."
Angela stood with her feet on the edge and her back to the chasm, Jack holding her line just a few feet in front of her. She looked to one side and Cam grinned at her – for real this time; looked to the other and Brennan gave her this wide-eyed smile, and the three women leaned backward, beginning the slow descent into space.
Once the act of actually letting go happened, the rest of the climb was pretty uneventful. Only Sweets had a really hard time with it, but he didn't complain or freak out, he just got quiet. The kid had guts, Angela would give him that much.
And then it was almost dark, everyone was back up on the cliff, and it was time to head back to camp for the night. On the hike back, Angela was so exhausted she could barely put one foot in front of the other, forget trying to pretend she wasn't with Jack – at least for the moment. They walked back with his arm around her shoulders, then sat together at the campfire with him behind her, rubbing the knots out of her aching back while they were tortured with the obligatory Q and A.
Before they got started, though, Tripp had an announcement.
"So, gang, our time is running out here fast. Tomorrow's a pretty big day, and it starts early. I'll be waking everyone at five a.m." Everyone groaned in unison, and he smiled. "I know, I know. But, you get the day off. Sort of. Tomorrow's solo – which means we begin the day with a vow of silence. No one speaks, and Belle and Jeremy and I will take you each to your solo sites, where you'll stay for twenty-four hours."
They'd already been briefed on the solo, of course – twenty-four hours of solitude, with no reading, no music, no TV, very little food. Twenty-four years to think, sleep, sketch… God, she was looking forward to it. Angela looked around the circle, and figured pretty much everyone was ready for a day of rest, though Booth and Brennan both looked kind of antsy about the idea. Of course. Sit and do nothing for a whole day? Nothing to distract them from those big, scary thoughts in their pretty heads? She smiled to herself. Yeah, it would definitely be an interesting day for them.
She'd been hoping that the early morning would mean skipping the night's question, but no such luck. And it wasn't an easy one, like she'd been hoping for. Sweets cleared his throat, looking around the circle before he read the slip of paper aloud.
"Okay – huh. This should be interesting. What is your biggest work-related regret?"
He looked to his left, where Cam was sitting. She took a breath.
"Why do I always have to go first?"
Sweets shrugged. "Just the roll of the dice, I guess."
Cam rolled her eyes. Angela noticed that the new instructor, Jeremy, was getting pretty cozy with their boss – he sat beside her, taking every opportunity to bump her shoulder or touch her arm. Interesting.
"Okay, fine," Cam finally conceded. "Biggest work-related regret." She paused, took a breath. "I guess that would be… Zack. Not watching him more closely, not checking in with him once he got back from Iraq. I knew things weren't right with him, the second he got back to the lab – "
Jack interrupted. "Yeah, but we all knew that. Hell, I lived with the guy. He was my best friend. If anyone should've seen it, it should've been me. We can't take responsibility for anyone but ourselves – you did the best you could."
"But what Dr. Saroyan is feeling," Sweets said, and for once no one seemed to be rolling their eyes at him. "is completely natural – to some extent, I'm sure everyone feels partially responsible for Zack's actions, regardless of how irrational those feelings might be."
There was silence for a long few seconds. Jack had tensed as soon as Zack's name was mentioned; Angela leaned into his arms, resting her back against his chest, hoping he wouldn't shut down. But he wrapped his arms around her instead, burying his face in her hair.
"You smell like sex," he whispered in her ear. She smiled faintly.
"Yeah," she whispered back. "Wonder whose fault that is."
He hugged her closer, and they waited for the next response to the question.
Brennan was beside Booth again – not quite as cuddly as a couple of nights before, but she did have her head on his shoulder and her eyes closed. Booth had that 'Do we really have to do this tonight?' look on his face, and Angela knew exactly how he felt. No one volunteered to go next, until Sweets cleared his throat again.
"I – uh, I have one, actually, that I've wanted to… uh, get off my chest for some time now. Last year, when Agent Booth was shot, he entrusted me with the task of telling his loved ones that he hadn't actually been killed – this his alleged death was just a ruse to – "
"Yeah," Booth said, his eyes boring into the psychologist and his voice tight. Angela noticed that Brennan's eyes were open now, her head no longer on Booth's shoulder.
"I'm pretty sure everyone remembers, Sweets. What's your point?"
Angela could almost see Sweets swallow past his fear – she found herself sitting up straighter, not at all sure what would happen next.
"Right – of course," Sweets said. "Well, I – I didn't tell Dr. Brennan. And she very astutely observed that my reason for not telling her may not have been as honorable as I'd led everyone to believe."
"Sweets," Angela was surprised to hear Brennan's voice. "Just forget it – it's not important." Definite warning in the tone, too. Angela's tension ramped up a notch.
Booth was sitting up straight now, and it seemed like everyone in the circle was holding their breath.
"Wait," Booth said, like he was trying to work through one of those crazy when-will-the-trains-collide math problems Angela used to hate as a kid. "You told me you decided Bones could handle me dying better than anyone else – you knew she'd be okay, and you needed to tell as few people as possible, so you made a judgment call."
Sweets swallowed again, but he was incredibly calm when he looked across the circle at Booth once more.
"I know. I lied." He looked down at his hands, and Angela wasn't sure if he was going to start crying, but she was almost positive that was the only thing that would save him from Booth at this point.
"I – uh, I don't really know how to explain it. But the dynamic between you two is so fascinating, and I thought if I could observe Dr. Brennan under – "
"So you didn't tell her – " Booth interrupted. "You let her think I was dead, for some stupid shrink experiment?"
Sweets started to answer, but Booth cut him off with a look that Angela had never seen from him before, directed at Brennan.
"And you knew about this?"
Brennan nodded. "I did. But I knew it would only make you angry if Sweets told you."
Booth stood abruptly. Angela had never gotten the whole anger-coming-off-someone-in-waves phrase until that moment, but boy did she understand it now.
"Y'know what, forget it," Booth said, already starting to walk away. "I'm going to bed. I'll see everybody at five."
Brennan started to get up, but Angela shook her head. "I wouldn't do that, Sweetie. Give him some time to cool off."
The anthropologist sat back down, and after that no one really had much interest in talking about their regrets. Angela sank back into Jack's chest and closed her eyes, feeling immediately better when his arms curled protectively around her. She was more than ready for the day to be done.
TBC
So… Next on the week's roster is Solo. Will Booth punch out Sweets? Will Angela get a shower? Will Bones finally figure out who lights her fire? Find out all this and more, in the continuing saga of The War in the Woods. Oh, and of course… Don't forget to click the button below – your comments are the veggie-fuel that keeps this writer going! Thanks for reading, folks!