Thank you thank you thank you for the wonderful feedback you guys are giving me, it's so very nice. I know I'd said this would be up by last Wednesday, but it got stubborn at the last minute and between work and all those other pesky responsibilities I try so hard to avoid… Well, there was nothing for it but time. Here at long last – the chapter you've been waiting for. I really hope I do our favorite FBI man justice.
Day Six: Booth
Booth didn't dream at home. Of course, that was probably because he usually passed out on the couch, in front of the TV watching SportsCenter or a movie or whatever else seemed remotely watchable after a long day on the job. And on the rare times when he wasn't on the couch, it was usually because he had someone over – and by the time he went to sleep on those nights, he was way too tired for dreaming.
Ever since they started this damned Outward Bound course, though, he'd been dreaming every goddamn night. Well – not the first night, but definitely ever since the med clinic. Every so often there'd be something sexy in there, or he'd be working a case with Bones or playing in the NFL. Mostly, though, he dreamed about the brothers he met that day – trying to save them, miserably failing, watching them die.
On this particular night, after Sweets's big confession and Booth's dramatic exit, he dreamed that he got a call from a coroner in Maine telling him that the boys were dead. And so he went to the Maine morgue – except the morgue was the Jeffersonian and Bones was the coroner and the dead boys were him and Jared. He left to track down the father, who was of course none other than his own father, and Booth fought with him, and Booth killed him.
And woke up to the sound of rain pouring down outside their tent and Sweets mumbling and Hodgins snoring. He was soaked in sweat, tangled in his blankets, and he didn't think it was anywhere close to five a.m.
He really hated Outward Bound.
He managed to drift off a couple of times over the course of the rest of the night, before Tripp was outside his tent with that goddamn cowbell again, and Booth stumbled out of the tent to find everyone else looking equally as exhausted and pissed off. They were all watching him, no doubt waiting to see what he would say and whether he was still mad – he was suddenly grateful for the friggin' vow of silence Tripp and Belle had thought up.
Weather-wise, it didn't look like it would be a great day. It wasn't pouring anymore, but there was a cold, steady drizzle falling, and an eerie gray fog had settled over everything. Bones was watching him even more than the others, and he realized that it was one of the first times he could remember ever being genuinely pissed off at her. There was the time at his birthday party, of course – and honestly, it was kind of the same feeling, because he wasn't just pissed. Truth be told, he was hurt – just like he'd been on his birthday. And the fact that his partner could hurt him this way – cut him deeper than just about anyone he knew… Well, that wasn't something he was ready to think about just now.
Everyone got dressed in silence – no run and dip that morning, thank God, and then one of the instructors took each member of the group one at a time and disappeared into the woods. Booth felt this tightness in his chest every time another one left, thinking about this time overseas when he'd watched people disappear in pretty much the same way, vanishing into the desert never to return.
Just like he always did when he had those kind of thoughts, he talked himself down as matter of factly as possible – the way he'd learned a lot of the other guys in his squad had to do, once they got back to the real world. He reminded himself that that was a different time, different circumstances, and there was nothing fishy about the situation and everyone around him was totally safe.
It didn't completely help, but it kept him from going berserk in front of everyone. And that was something.
Belle was the one who took him into the woods. They walked for about half an hour, and a couple of times he'd start to say something and she'd just put her finger to her lips, and he'd roll his eyes and shut up. Jesus. Damn hippies.
After about half an hour, Belle took a scarf out of her pack and tied it around his eyes. She smelled terrible, but he knew he did too and frankly she was still pretty hot. He imagined her stopping somewhere along the way, keeping the blindfold on and ravaging him before she left him alone for twenty-four hours to sleep off the best sex of his life.
His heart wasn't really in the fantasy, though, so he wasn't disappointed when it didn't happen. The air changed and he could smell the ocean, and then Belle stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"You can take off the blindfold now," she said – quiet, like she was at mass or something.
He did. It was lighter out, but not by much – gray sky over grayer water and a black tree line in the distance. Belle handed him a Ziploc baggie of nuts and twigs and crap, and showed him his boundaries.
"You can go as far as the tree line to the east and west, and those rocks to the north," she told him. "Stay out of the water."
He didn't argue, because it would be pointless and he didn't plan on obeying anyway.
"I'll be back to get you at five o'clock tomorrow morning," she said.
He nodded. "And what the hell am I supposed to do 'til then?" he asked, aware that he sounded more than a little sulky.
She grinned at him then – a sexy little hippie grin that caught his imagination in a way she hadn't so far.
"I'm sure you'll think of something," she said.
Right.
She left.
He'd been allowed to bring his sleeping bag, another layer of clothes, water, a notebook, a pen, and a small blue tarp. He set up a little lean-to for himself with the tarp, just in case it started really raining – which it looked like it might do any second. He thought about eating some of his nuts and berries, but figured he should wait 'til he was really hungry for that.
Though he hadn't been allowed to bring a watch, he could see that the sun was climbing steadily behind the clouds – a pale white light that didn't do much to brighten the gray day. He didn't like thinking of Bones out in the rain and the cold, even though he was sure she'd already made a great, eco-friendly shelter and was studying some old, bleached bones she found. He almost smiled at the thought, then reminded himself that he was still mad at her.
"Christ," he said out loud.
He thought of Belle and her cute little hippie grin, and looked around for a second before he went into his lean-to and jerked off. It had been a few days, so it only took a couple of minutes for him to finish himself off – he'd never really seen the point to making it last when it was all him, anyway. He was more than happy to go all night when he had company, but solo was solo. Just a release.
He fell asleep for a while after that. When he woke up he was starving, so he rationed out some of his crappy Outward Bound food and ate it while he watched the tide come in.
It wasn't that interesting, really.
He played Tic Tac Toe in the sand. And won. Found himself wondering again why Bones ransacked a church. What rock star she dated.
Why she didn't tell him Sweets lied.
He stood up, and stretched. Did some push ups and some sit ups and some wind sprints across the sand. Which made him smell even worse, but feel a little better.
He tried to list all fifty states, writing them out on the notebook Belle had given him – he could only get forty-nine, which bugged him. Then he listed all of the quarterbacks in the NFL, in order of his least favorite to favorite, debating for a good fifteen minutes about whether to give the top spot to Peyton Manning or Tom Brady – Manning had that shotgun of a throwing arm, but Brady was a thinking man's quarterback. He scratched out Manning's name and put Tom Brady at the top.
The sun still wasn't that high overhead, which meant it wasn't even noon yet.
Shit.
When the sun was exactly at mid-heaven, he went for a swim. The ground was rocky and he cut his big toe on a clam shell, but it wasn't a deep cut so he figured he probably wouldn't die from loss of blood. That got him thinking about how everyone else was doing, though, and whether Bones had listened to instructions or was just off gallivanting, paying no attention to what she was doing or where she was going. Probably she was off gallivanting – she never listened to instructions. Especially not his.
They all had whistles they'd been given, in case something happened and they needed an instructor. Of course, that only worked if you were conscious enough to blow the damned whistle – which made him think again of Bones, and how fast someone could bleed to death out here and no one would even know, 'til it was too late.
He swam in a straight line along the shore, back and forth, always keeping an eye on his stupid solo site. After forty laps, he went back to his lean-to, dried off, jerked off again, and fell asleep.
This time, he dreamed that Bones fell off the cliff when they were rock climbing, but she was all right because she'd landed in about a thousand dead bodies. He was freaked out because it meant a thousand murders to solve, but she just kept shaking her head, saying,
"Don't you see, Booth? All these bones? We'll be together forever with all these bones."
She kind of tugged on his arm, trying to pull him into the mess.
"Come on, Booth – you're dreaming," which didn't really make sense. He looked at her, and it felt damned realistic when she poked his arm again.
"Booth," she said again. "You're dreaming. Wake up."
He opened his eyes, and she was there.
She was crouched beside his lean-to looking at him curiously with those blue eyes of hers, and his first thought was, Damn, those eyes, before he remembered that he was still mad. He closed his eyes again, wondering if he was still dreaming.
"Booth – wake up," she said. Nope, not still dreaming.
He thought about ignoring her – freezing her out, to demonstrate just how pissed off he really was. But that wasn't the kind of guy he was, so he opened his eyes again, slowly getting his bearings. This time, he took a minute to actually think about the fact that Bones was here – at his campsite, when she was definitely supposed to be at her own campsite, thinking about her future or her past or whatever other BS Tripp had told them they should be thinking about. All of these thoughts went through his head in the space of about two seconds before vanishing completely, once he actually took in Bones' physical appearance. Because it wasn't good.
First off, she was half-naked – which wouldn't have been such a horrible thing, of course, but she was also shivering, water dripping from her hair and gathering in pools at her feet. Her lips were blue and her teeth were chattering and she was covered in goosebumps.
Finally fully awake, he scrambled out of his sleeping bag and grabbed a towel.
"Jesus, Bones – what the hell are you doing here? You're not supposed to leave your site."
He wrapped the towel around her shoulders, rubbing it up and down her arms quickly to try and get her blood moving again.
"I was swimming," she said, her teeth still chattering. "And I thought perhaps if I just swam the perimeter of the island, it might make me tired enough to sleep."
"You what?" He just about had a heart attack. "Jesus, Bones – do you know how dangerous the currents can be around a place like this? What if you got a cramp, or hit your head, or…"
He stopped, suddenly realizing that he could lecture her later – for now, he just shook his head and focused on getting her warmed up. For a genius, sometimes Bones did the dumbest damned things.
He stripped off his sweatshirt and pulled it over her head.
"Here – get in my sleeping bag, and I'll build us a fire," he directed her.
"They told us not to build fires on solo," she said immediately, but at least she got in the sleeping bag.
"Yeah, well they also told us not to go swimming, but you didn't seem to have a problem with that."
She didn't argue the point, but he noticed that she was kind of looking at him funny. She sat up in his sleeping bag, not shivering quite so much, and watched him while he gathered driftwood and dried pine needles, putting them in the center of a circle of rocks.
"I don't guess you have any matches on you?" he asked.
She raised her eyebrows at him. "No. But if you can generate enough heat through friction you may – "
He held up his hand, in no mood for the lesson. "I got it, Bones – relax. I was an Army Ranger, remember? I can start a fire."
He made a teepee out of the driest branches he'd found, setting the pine needles and his lists of states and quarterbacks around it. It took a little while, rubbing two sticks together until finally a tiny plume of smoke began to rise. Another minute or two, and there was a flame.
Bones shuffled over, still in the sleeping bag, and sat down in front of it.
"It worked," she said, like it was some huge surprise or something.
"Well – yeah, Bones, of course it worked. What kind of Ranger do you think I was, anyway?"
She didn't answer. It took another ten minutes or so before the fire really took off. They were silent the whole time, and he realized that it hadn't been his imagination earlier – she was definitely looking at him funny. Finally, after a good fifteen minutes of this, he was the one to break first.
"What the hell were you doing out there, anyway?" he asked, thinking of the way she'd avoided his eyes when he first asked the question. Sometimes, she was the worst liar on the planet.
She was quiet for a couple seconds, like she was trying to decide whether or not to tell him the truth. He didn't say a word, waiting for her to work it out on her own.
"I was bored. It's ridiculous forcing a group of highly motivated professionals to fritter their valuable time away with no hope of accomplishing anything of worth." She paused, and he knew she was still working up to something. "Besides, I couldn't stop thinking about the conversation around the fire last night," she finally admitted. "And how you wouldn't speak to me this morning. And I thought…" she sighed, her forehead wrinkling in frustration. "You've never not spoken to me before."
"Well, there was a vow of silence, Bones," he pointed out, moved despite his best efforts not to be.
She rolled her eyes. "That was just a convenient excuse. You had no interest in conversation with me – I saw the way you avoided me. Are you still angry with me?"
She had that sort of little kid thing going again – this almost naked way of looking at him, and he really didn't understand how she could do that. She was the most maddening person he'd ever met more often than not – she didn't have a clue how to talk to people, she always had to be right, didn't believe in God or love or any of the things he held sacred. But she looked at him with those big blue eyes, like she'd just stepped onto the planet or something, and he was pretty much done. Game over, before it even started.
But he wasn't gonna let her know that, damn it.
"Yeah, Bones – I am still angry at you," and he was surprised at how true the words felt.
"Because I didn't tell you that Sweets lied," she said.
"Yeah." He paused, uncomfortable with how much it actually bothered him. "I mean – what he did to you was a big deal, making you think I was dead like that. And then telling me how you could handle it because you were so…"
"Compartmentalized," she supplied helpfully.
"Right." He stood, pacing because now he was really starting to get pissed off again. "So there you are, thinking I don't even think enough of you to tell you I'm not really dead. And hear I am thinking you don't even really care that I'm dead at all," his voice was rising. He took a breath, trying to calm down before he continued.
"And it's all because friggin' Sweets wants to do an experiment."
She waited until he was finished before speaking. "This is precisely why I didn't tell you, though – the ferocity of your reaction far outweighed any benefit you knowing could possibly have had." She paused for a second. "Besides, I was afraid you and Sweets would have a physical altercation over it."
He grimaced. "Yeah, well I came pretty damned close last night."
"But now you're not going to?"
He took another breath, feeling his pulse start to slow, that weird vein in his head stop throbbing. He sat down beside her, and somewhere far off he noted that she looked good in his sweatshirt, and for some reason that sort of pleased him.
"No, Bones – what good would it do? Besides, he's twelve. Weighs maybe ninety pounds. Just let him think it's comin' for a while – that should be enough."
She smiled. "Implied intimidation rather than overt aggression."
He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. But the important thing here is that you've gotta tell me stuff. We're partners – I'm not a mind reader, and I'm not some stranger off the street. Somethin' happens, and I want to know about it."
"It's a two-road highway, you know," she said. Which baffled the hell out of him for about thirty seconds – honest to God, he felt like he needed a Bones to English dictionary sometimes.
"Two way street, Bones," he told her, once he'd figured it out.
She nodded impatiently, like that was exactly what she'd said. "Yes – two way street. If I tell you things, you need to do the same."
He nodded his agreement, though he was hoping she wasn't gonna push him on that one just yet. He stretched a little where he was sitting, trying to get his back to loosen up – he was falling apart ever since he got here, bad knee and bad back and bad dreams. Christ. Of course Bones didn't miss the move, though, or the wince that went along with it.
She stood up and stepped out of his sleeping bag, wrapping his towel around her long legs before she came and stood over him.
"You know, I could teach you some things that would loosen the muscles of your back. And help lubricate your knee joints to alleviate some of your discomfort there, as well."
He leaned back to look at her. It was still grayer than hell out, a steady drizzle falling over the beach and a cold fog hanging on the horizon, but it seemed a little more manageable since Bones had arrived. Not so manageable that he was going to hang out and do upside down dog or whatever the hell it was – but still, pretty manageable.
"My back's fine, Bones. And so's my knee. I'm fit as a fiddle."
"If you're fine, then it shouldn't intimidate you to try some of the simpler postures I practice everyday. There are millions of strong, virile, sexually potent men who do yoga – there's no reason it should threaten your masculinity."
"What?" he rolled his eyes, heaved a big sigh, and stood up. "Yoga does not threaten my masculinity, Bones. I just think it'd be a waste of time, all right? I don't care how sexually potent the guys you know are – I'm plenty potent myself, without dressing up in tights and getting in touch with my inner Buddha."
She actually laughed at that one, which made him smile in spite of himself. Instead of wasting more time arguing, he figured what the hell – it couldn't be later than early afternoon, which meant they still had a long day ahead of them. At least it would pass the time.
"All right fine, Bones – you wf do yoga? We'll do yoga." He stood up, shook himself out, and kind of threw his shoulders back before tipping an eyebrow at her. "So, where do you want me?"
She was laughing at him, and they hadn't even started yet. Not outright laughing, but she definitely had a little bit of a grin going.
"You're doing it wrong."
He rolled his eyes. "What? I'm just standing here – how can I already be doing it wrong?"
She came over to him then, but her towel started slipping off and before he knew it Bones's long, shapely, goose-pimpled legs were staring him in the face. And while he wouldn't have minded that kind of view for the day, the goose-pimples kind of detracted from the picture.
"Hang on – let me grab another pair of sweats for you – "
"Booth, I didn't come here to drip all over your sleeping bag and steal your clothing," she said.
He wasn't even paying attention, already diving into his lean-to for the rest of his clothes. Once he'd found them, he tossed the sweats to her – she caught them and, he was pleased to note, didn't say anything else before pulling them on and cinching them as tight as she could around her waist. Even so, they were way too big; she leaned down and rolled the cuffs up to her knees, her bare toes curled into the sand and the thing was, Booth had always been kind of an ankle guy. Yeah, he knew it was weird, and hanging with the guys he'd usually just go along with whatever jackass was talking about T&A, but ankles…
The thing about a woman's ankles was that they had this kind of delicate, completely feminine thing about them that always left him a little undone. Bones had good ankles – actually, strike that. Bones had great ankles. For a second, Booth found himself just kind of staring at them, and it wasn't like he was surprised that she had great ankles, because it was Bones and, well, Bones pretty much had great everything. He was just kind of surprised to be as… well, moved by Bones's ankles.
"Why are you looking at my feet?" Bones asked him, covering one foot up with the other one and looking a little nervous.
He shook his head, trying to get a grip. Jesus, he was losing his shit out here.
"I wasn't, Bones – "
"Yes, you were – it was very obvious. Is there something wrong with my feet?"
"No, Bones," he sighed in frustration. "Your feet are great, okay? Are we doing this yoga thing or not?"
She nodded. A second or two later, she seemed to accept that her feet were fine, and stood tall with said feet shoulder-width apart in the sand and her hands in front of her like she was praying. Booth just stood there and looked at her, until finally she raised one eyebrow at him.
"What?" he asked.
"You're supposed to do what I'm doing," she told him, like he was just somehow supposed to know that.
"Oh." He rolled his eyes again, but he didn't argue. Feet shoulder width apart, staring at Bones on the beach with his hands in the prayer position. Nothing wrong with this picture.
"We'll start with some basic exercises to stretch your spine," she told him. "First, take a deep breath through your nose – inhale until your stomach is distended, and let the oxygen suffuse your system."
He wasn't completely sure what suffuse meant, but he got the general picture.
"Close your eyes," she directed.
"How am I supposed to copy what you're doing if I can't see you?" he asked.
"I'll tell you when to open them again. Just relax. Close your eyes, and concentrate on your breathing. Tuck your chin slightly and elongate your spine, breathing through each movement."
All the deep breathing was making him dizzy, and he started to think about what everyone else was doing during their solo. Then he started to think about the Ziploc baggie half-full of nuts and berries that now him and Bones were supposed to survive on until the next morning. He realized he was hungry, which made him think about getting back home and ordering up the biggest, fattest burger this side of the Mississippi.
"Booth!"
He realized she'd been trying to get his attention for a while. Embarrassed, he opened his eyes to find her standing on her toes on one leg with her arms extended over her head, her palms still pressed together. His eyes widened as soon as he saw her. The other day when she'd been turning herself into a pretzel before their morning run, he'd been… impressed, let's say, with her flexibility. But this – Jesus. How could she be brilliant and gorgeous and still athletic and graceful and have great ankles?
"Please don't tell me you expect me to do that," he said.
She lowered her arms and set both feet on the ground, then came over to stand beside him, closing her hands over his.
"Just start by raising your arms over your head," she told him. And normally he would have made some wisecrack and given up, but she was standing beside him and she smelled like the ocean and his overripe sweatshirt but, somewhere underneath it all, she smelled like Bones.
She let go of his hands, but she didn't move farther away – just raised her arms and he mirrored the move, feeling a little dorky but undeniably curious about where this was gonna lead. Once his arms were overhead, she told him to breathe – he did, and he realized that for the first time in a long time, his back felt looser. She moved around behind him and he started to twist his head to watch, but she told him to close his eyes and for once he listened. A second later, he felt her hand – cool, but not freezing – resting on the back of his neck.
"Bones, what are you doing?" he asked, but his voice sounded strange to his ears, like he'd just been running a marathon or something.
"Just relax. Keep breathing."
He was starting to get tired of having his arms over his head, but he stuck with it regardless. And then suddenly there was this unexpected moment when everything went still – when all the thoughts in his head stopped racing, and he could hear the water lapping up against the shore, and Bones' slow, even breaths beside him. There was a soft, misting rain coming down and the air was cool and damp on his skin. He took another breath, totally focused on the feeling of her hand on his neck. She wasn't rubbing or massaging or anything – just resting it there, but he could feel each finger sort of branding him. After a second or two, he realized that he was getting kind of, well, turned on by the whole thing, so he quickly pushed that thought right out of his head and tried to concentrate on his breathing, like Bones told him to.
It was actually working, too, until all of a sudden her other hand made an appearance – on his stomach, just below his belly button, under his sweatshirt. And suddenly, he was definitely not concentrating on his breathing anymore.
"What the hell are you doin', Bones?" he asked, opening one eye to look at her.
"Just keep breathing," she told him. She exerted a tiny bit of pressure at his neck. "Now slowly bend forward – start by tipping your head, allowing the spine to fall in line until you're touching your toes."
Then she pressed her other hand into his stomach, and the pressure shot straight to his groin – he jumped about a foot backward, both eyes wide open.
"Bones! Hey – that's personal territory. Personal, personal territory!"
"What's the matter with you? You were doing very well – I was just going to guide you into a forward bend, it's very revitalizing. And excellent for high blood pressure."
Somehow, he seriously doubted that. She took another step toward him and he took three steps back, his arms raised like he was fending off an attacker.
"Y'know what, Bones? No more yoga. Okay? I've had enough – between the crappy food and sleeping with Hodgins and finding out Sweets experimented on us – " he took a breath, because she was looking at him like he'd gone nuts.
"Just – no more yoga, okay?"
She shrugged, and he didn't miss her damned eye roll. "Fine. I was just attempting to help you relax."
"Well – mission accomplished. I'm way more relaxed now."
They sat back down by the fire, neither of them saying a word. On top of everything else, his stomach was really growling now, and there was no way in hell the stash Tripp had given him would be enough to carry them both through 'til morning. Nevertheless, he went back to the lean-to and pulled out the half-full baggie, tossing it to Bones.
"Here – dinner's served. Save me a couple raisins though, would you?"
She looked at him with that wrinkle in her forehead. "You can't give me your food – there's almost nothing left. It's barely enough for one person."
"Well, I'm not gonna sit here and eat in front of you when you don't have anything. Besides, you're smaller – and a woman. You need it. I'll be fine."
She came over and sat down beside him, taking his hand and turning it over so that it was palm up. Taking care not to spill a crumb, she dumped the contents into his hand.
"I don't like pine nuts," she told him.
He grinned. "Okay." He picked out the pine nuts and ate them – there were six in all, gone in a flash. "I'm not big on those pretzel things."
She carefully chose the pretzels, munching on them thoughtfully while they looked at the rest of their supply.
"Split the raisins and leave the rest for later?" Booth asked.
She nodded. He picked out seven raisins, dropping four into her hand before he popped the remaining three into his mouth and gulped them down in a hurry. Then, he put the rest of the food back in the baggie and handed it to her.
"Well, that was fantastic," he said seriously. "I haven't had a meal like that in ages. You?"
"Delicious," she said, just as serious, but with a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Bones was sitting with her leg pressed against his, not quite leaning into him – comfortable, the way they were sometimes. It was nice at first, but then after a while the silence stopped feeling nice and started to feel kind of awkward. She looked at him expectantly.
"Now what do you want to do?" she asked.
Several ideas leaped to mind, and none of them were at all appropriate. He swallowed, consciously didn't look at her naked ankles, and thought about more acceptable ways to pass the time.
"We could play a game," he said. He just happened to say it at exactly the same time that Bones said,
"We could have sex."
His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, and he wasn't sure whether to laugh or argue or just agree and be done with it already.
"What, Bones?"
She looked at him – kind of shy, a little embarrassed, but obviously trying to be the bold, no-hang-ups forensic anthropologist who took guys home, had her way with them, and did it all in the name of scratching an itch. Or so he'd heard.
"We could have sex," she said, less sure of herself now. "We're both healthy, and attractive, and we have several hours before anyone will come for either of us. You said the other night you'd like to have sex with me."
He studied her for a long few seconds, really trying to figure her out. How could she be this brilliant and this ridiculously dumb, all at once? It never ceased to amaze him.
"Yeah, well – that was without a morning after or consequences or weird awkwardness after. Besides, I don't have any – you know, anything for protection. And I'm not having sex on this island, like this."
"Angela and Hodgins did, and Angela said it was very pleasant. And I'm not ovulating – "
He held up his hand before she could go any further. "Okay, first off, I'm not talking to you about that. That is exactly what Rebecca told me six weeks before we found out she was pregnant with Parker. So… I don't go by that anymore. And second – when the hell did Angela and Hodgins sleep together? I thought they broke up."
"Yesterday, during the afternoon break. Angela doesn't know what it means yet."
He rolled his eyes. "It means the ride home's gonna be hell, that's what it means."
Another silence, and he was really hoping she'd drop the whole subject. Predictably enough, she didn't.
"So, you would have sex with me if there were no consequences."
"Right," he nodded, mostly in the vain hope that maybe that would make her stop.
"But if there were consequences, you wouldn't want to have sex with me."
"Exactly," he nodded again. Too late, he realized how that sounded and saw the hurt look that crossed her face. "No! I mean – " he pulled up short, taking a big breath while he tried to figure out how to explain this to her when he didn't really get it himself.
"Look, Bones – you're really pretty. I mean, God, you have those eyes, and those legs, and you have great ankles," he stopped, because he was quickly losing his train of thought. "You're brilliant, and kind, and – well, you're also a big pain in the ass and you make me nuts, but – "
Yep, train of thought effectively derailed.
"You were explaining why you won't have sex with me," she supplied helpfully, before he could even ask.
Right. Schmuck. He willed himself not to look away, trying to make her understand.
"It just – it shouldn't be like this, you know?" he finally said. The look in her eyes said she definitely did not know.
"Our first time isn't gonna be in the middle of the woods when we both smell like road kill and the only reason we're doing it is because we're bored and can't think of anything better to do."
Crap. He definitely hadn't meant for it to come out like that. She kept those blue eyes on him, thinking about what he'd said. Finally, after what seemed like six eons, she spoke.
"You think there'll be a… first time?" she asked, and she didn't take her eyes off him for a second.
He swallowed. Hard. Damn, was it getting hot out? After a second or two, he shrugged, forcing himself to hold steady under the weight of her gaze.
"I don't know, Bones. But if there is – if we ever do, you know – "
"Have sex," she prompted.
He rolled his eyes. "Make love, Bones, okay? Make love," he said again, softer this time. He shrugged, feeling suddenly shy about the whole thing. "If we do reach that point, you deserve my A game. You're worth that, you know?"
She lowered her eyes for the first time, and he found it sort of sweet and heartbreaking all at once that she could proposition him without blinking an eye, but the minute he started talking about making love she was blushing like a schoolgirl. He bumped his shoulder against hers.
"Okay?"
A second of silence passed between them before she returned the bump. "Okay."
Before it could get awkward again, he hopped up from where he was sitting and sort of crouched down, gesturing toward his back.
"Here – hop on."
Her eyes widened in confusion. "What? Why? If this is some sort of pony play thing, I really don't -
"What? God, Bones, what did I just get done saying?" He sighed. "Hop on my back, because you don't have any shoes and we're goin' for a walk in the woods. I'm starved, and somewhere on this godforsaken island, there must be something to eat. And we're gonna find it."
They'd just found a tidepool and Bones was explaining how snails were a delicacy and Booth was totally gonna love them when they heard voices, followed by what sounded like a herd of elephants crashing through the underbrush. A second later, Angela appeared with her tie-dyed bandana all cockeyed and her shirt on backwards.
"I told you it was them, Jack," she called over her shoulder.
Bones was crouched in the tidepool with water up to her shins, staring intently into the clear water. Booth was sitting on the sidelines, torn between being skeptical about the whole snail thing and being undeniably charmed at the picture she made. At Angela's appearance, they both looked up in surprise.
"You're not supposed to leave your solo site," they said in unison.
Angela rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I got bored about half an hour after Tripp left me – started wandering around and just happened to stumble on Jack's site."
Jack made his appearance a moment later, and damn, the woods didn't do a lot for the guy. His eyes looked sort of wild, his hair was going in six different directions, and he had a beard that looked like it was probably home to a whole slew of bugs and birds and creatures of the night.
"Hey, guys," he said, obviously trying to be casual. "What's up?"
Booth looked him up and down, swallowing a grin. "Not much. We didn't mean to interrupt you – "
"You didn't interrupt anything," Jack said hurriedly. Bones looked at Angela curiously, and the artist rolled her eyes.
"We've already had sex three times since solo started. I cannot have sex again. Ever. Or at least until I have a long, long shower."
An uncomfortable silence fell, until Booth straightened with a big sigh. "Okay, see - that's what we call over-sharing, Ange. But thanks. You guys wanna help us find something to eat?"
The couple joined them eagerly, and before long they had a pile of mussels, snails, a few decent sized crabs, and a stack of seaweed that Bones insisted would taste great roasted on the fire. On the way back they added blackberries to the mix and Jack found some wild mint. Everyone was talking at once and actually having a pretty good time until they got back to the campsite and found Cam and Sweets sitting looking miserable beside the fire, waiting for Booth to return.
Sweets' eyes widened in disbelief when he saw the party that came out of the woods.
"You're not supposed to leave your solo site," he said automatically.
"Save it," Booth said shortly.
Before, when he'd been talking to Bones about the whole thing, he really thought he could be the bigger man here – okay, sure, throw his weight around a little to make sure Sweets didn't think what he did was all right. But otherwise, he figured he'd just let it blow over. No harm done.
But now, the reality of the whole thing kind of dawned on him: the way Sweets had totally discounted what it would do to Bones, and just let her think her partner was dead that whole time. Just so he could study her reactions, get some cheap thrill if she broke down or didn't or… Yeah, it turned out he was still pretty pissed.
The rest of the group stopped at the edge of the woods, but Booth kept right on coming. Sweets stood up to meet him, rising to his full height and looking Booth square in the face.
"Your anger is completely justified," Sweets told him.
"Thanks," Booth said, already trying to hold himself back from what he really wanted to do.
"I was completely in the wrong for what I did. There was no rational explanation for why I withheld that information from Dr. Brennan," Sweets continued.
Should he hit him in the nose, or the jaw? Or maybe just sock him in the stomach and leave it at that.
"You have every right to be furious with me, and I wouldn't blame either Dr. Brennan or yourself if you never trusted me again. I recognize the rift this has caused between Dr. Brennan and myself, and I only hope that as we go forward we can move beyond that."
He wouldn't get more than one blow, really – more than that wouldn't be fair, and he didn't actually want to injure the kid. Not seriously, anyway.
"But that's why I'd like it if you just… Well," Sweets stood up even straighter, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. "If you just, you know, hit me. Wherever you want – I won't – "
Before he could say anything else, Booth popped him once in the nose. Not hard enough to break anything, but definitely hard enough to feel it. Sweets went down before Booth could even feel the sting in his knuckles, holding onto his nose while a thin stream of blood ran down his face and between his fingers. Angela strolled over to the water, wet yet another of her bandanas with seawater, and strolled back to hand the cloth to Sweets. There was an impressive lack of drama surrounding the whole thing.
"Thanks," Sweets muttered, the word muffled behind his hand. He sat up in the sand, gingerly putting the handkerchief to his nose.
Booth rolled his shoulders, feeling immediately better. Yeah, violence was no way to solve things and he knew he really had to work on his temper and Sweets was just a kid but… damn, that felt good.
"So," he clapped his hands together. "Who's hungry?"
It wasn't what you'd call a good meal – but it was more food than he'd had in a while, and that was something. Booth had gotten used to eating some pretty disgusting stuff in the army, so snails and crabs and seaweed really wasn't that horrible. It was filling, and no one was talking about their feelings, and aside from the whole yoga thing with Bones, he hadn't had to do any kind of touchy-feely trust games all day.
And honestly? He kind of liked hanging out with these guys. He'd always known Cam was funnier than hell, but Jack was actually good for a laugh himself, and Angela was cool and of course Bones was, well, Bones. Even Sweets kind of grew on you after a while. The fire was going strong, the night was cool and clean and refreshing, he had a full belly and another couple of days before it was time to dive back into murder and mayhem in D.C. Life was pretty good.
Which was, of course, when Angela suggested they play Truth or Dare.
"Can't we go one night without having to ask all kinds of embarrassing personal questions that nobody really wants to answer?" Booth asked, stopping just short of whining.
"I like them," Bones announced unexpectedly. All eyes turned her way, and she raised her eyebrows like she didn't understand why they were surprised.
"What? I like knowing about everyone."
"All right then," Booth said quickly. "If you like the game so much, you can go first. Who's the rock star you dated?"
He actually wanted to know about the church thing way more, but he had a feeling this wasn't the right time for that. He looked at his partner expectantly. It seemed like she wasn't quite sure how to answer the question.
"Do you want his real name?" she asked.
"Yes!" Everyone shouted in unison.
She hesitated. "Paul Plissey," she finally said.
No one said a word, which made Booth feel a little better for not knowing who the hell she was talking about.
"Sweetie, we don't know who that is," Angela told her.
"He's a musician," Bones explained. "He goes by the stage name Ellis Paul."
Everyone shook their heads.
"Sorry, Bones. No one's ever heard of your rock star boyfriend."
"I never said he was my boyfriend. Or a rock star. I merely said I'd dated a well-known musician."
"Apparently not that well known," Sweets said. His nose had swollen fast and he had two black eyes, but he seemed to be in pretty good spirits.
"Didn't he do a song in that Jim Carrey movie several years ago?" Cam ventured.
Bones didn't know, of course. She was sitting beside Booth, curled up in his sleeping bag wearing his sweatshirt and his sweatpants, her pretty ankles now hidden in a pair of his huge wool socks. Booth just looked at her and shook his head, unable to squelch a grin. God, she was hopeless.
And he'd have it no other way.
"All right, so who's next? And no big heartfelt questions, huh? Can we keep it light 'til the hippies get hold of us again," Booth begged.
They agreed, and soon they were all laughing over questions about first kisses and worst sex and what kind of animal they'd be. (Booth: seven years old, Leslie Whitman; seventeen years old, Alice Martin; wolf – because he'd seen this special on the Discovery channel and he liked how they mated for life and traveled together and how pretty they were, though he just went with the whole 'lone wolf' explanation when he was telling the others. Bones's first kiss wasn't until she was sixteen, and it was some kid in a foster home named Will Bailey, and her worst sex was with the same damned kid a year later, which gave Booth a kind of uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach when he looked at her. And her favorite animal was something he couldn't pronounce, some bird that only lived in Bolivia and ate wild grubs and lived for a hundred years or something. Honestly, sometimes he couldn't figure her out for the life of him.)
"Okay, so I have a question," Angela said, once the laughing had subsided and things were getting kind of quiet.
Everyone had gotten their sleeping bags but Bones, whose solo site it turned out was the only one not within about fifty yards of everyone else's. Jack and Angela looked pretty damned cozy for two people who'd already gone at it three times that day and had sworn off sex for the next forty-eight hours. It was hard to tell whether Sweets was just tired or his eyes had actually swollen shut, but he didn't seem to be hurting too bad – though Booth did wish he had an aspirin or something to give the kid, because he had to have a hell of a headache. Cam was already lying down in her sleeping bag, yawning widely every so often like she was about to pass out any second.
Booth was definitely uneasy at the way Angela was looking at him, and he knew the question before she asked it.
"The other night, you wouldn't tell us about when you were arrested – " she began.
"Dare," he said quickly, because there was no way in hell he was going down that road.
Angela looked at him, narrowing her eyes like she was gonna push the issue. After a second, she shrugged. "Fine. I dare you to sleep with Brennan tonight."
That got Cam up. And everyone else, for that matter.
Jesus, these people were unbelievable. "God, Angela – you can't dare me to sleep with Bones. That's – she's – "
"Oh my god, will you relax? I said sleep, I didn't say bend her over the nearest bush and have your way with her. What's the big deal? She doesn't have her sleeping bag anyway – what were you gonna do, bury yourself in the sand to stay warm?"
He looked at Bones, who looked back at him. No one said anything. Finally, Bones shrugged, like it was nothing.
"Fine. We'll sleep together. We're both adults. I have no problem with it if you don't."
There didn't seem to be much else he could say. He took a breath, suddenly feeling very, very antsy, and finally nodded.
"Sure – fine. Bones and I will sleep together. Happy?"
Angela grinned. "Hell yeah, I'm happy." She gave a big, wide yawn and exaggerated a stretch. "Happy, and very, very sleepy. Ready for bed, Jack?"
Jack was grinning, too. God, they were assholes. "Sure thing. You guys sleep tight, okay?"
Cam grabbed her sleeping bag and headed for the edge of the site next, and Sweets waited a second longer – watching them both way too closely until Booth shot a glare at him, and he quickly excused himself.
And then there were two.
"So… I guess the whole 'Which side do you sleep on' thing isn't really gonna be an issue tonight, huh?" he asked, gesturing toward his standard-issue mummy bag. He'd been given an extra large, so it wasn't like it would be impossible.
Just really, really snug.
To his surprise, Bones actually blushed. Well, he couldn't tell for sure because she was lit by firelight, but she didn't quite look at him and it sure as hell looked like she blushed. He gestured vaguely toward the water.
"I'm just gonna… uh, brush my teeth." Sixteen times.
She nodded. "Yes – good idea. Dental hygiene is important."
He nodded seriously. "Yeah. You only get one set of teeth."
"Well – technically, humans get two sets of teeth," she corrected him.
Before she could give him a lecture on dental anthropology, he grabbed his toothbrush and his bottled water and went to try and get cleaned up.
"I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder.
He brushed and rinsed and brushed again, spitting his toothpaste into the ocean while he tried to figure out some way to smell better. Short of rubbing toothpaste under his arms, he had no brilliant ideas. His five o'clock shadow was now a five-day beard, and his hair was sort of matted and really dirty. And his less accessible parts? Between the sweat and the salt air and the no shower and… yeah. There was no way anyone should have access to those parts.
Not that any of that would be an issue, he told himself. Because this was Bones. And they'd just had the conversation – this was not how it would happen. If it ever happened. Which it might. But not tonight, he reminded himself firmly. They were just going to sleep – no big deal. He brushed his teeth one more time, then went back to find Bones sitting by the fire with just her feet in the sleeping bag.
"I wasn't sure if you wanted to get in first – there's not really that much space," she told him, like the thought hadn't occurred to him.
He took a deep breath. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Bones. You can take the sleeping bag and I can just sleep under the lean-to, I'll be fine. It isn't even that cold." Which was a lie, but what the hell.
She shook her head. "But then wouldn't you be backing up on a dare?"
"Out, Bones. Backing out," he corrected automatically. "And that's not that big a deal once you get past twelve years old or so. We don't have to do this."
She seemed to give that some thought, before she finally shook her head. "No. I'm not comfortable backing out. Besides, we're adults. You need to sleep somewhere. And I need to sleep somewhere."
And apparently those somewheres would be the same.
Booth nodded. "All right – so we're doing this. Like you said, no big deal. Just sleeping. Why don't I get in first, and then you can kind of shimmy in around me." He silently ordered himself not to think about those words, and concentrated on the task at hand.
It was kind of like any of the hundred lame Outward Bound initiatives they'd been doing for the past week: how many people can you stuff into a one-man sleeping bag? He imagined Tripp and Belle cheering them on, talking about trust and personal boundaries and whatever other horseshit they could think of. Except Tripp and Belle were nowhere to be found; it was dark, and quiet, and once she'd finally found the space, Bones was pressed against him and there was barely room for the clothes they were wearing.
He was on his side with his arms tight against his body, Bones hands crushed against his chest. She twisted a couple of times, thrashing so much that she actually kneed him in the balls and he felt like it was time for someone to take control of the situation.
"Ow! Jesus, Bones – I might want another kid one day, would you go easy?"
She stopped moving. "Sorry. It's very difficult to get comfortable, though."
"Well, yeah – that was kind of the point." Sort of. He paused, working up his courage. Since they'd gotten into the sleeping bag, they'd both practically been crawling out of their skin to keep from touching each other – which was clearly impossible given the lack of space. Bones had started wriggling again, but he touched her arm lightly and she stopped moving.
"Bones, this'll never work unless we both give a little on the personal bubble."
"I don't know – "
"Space, Bones. Our space." He stretched one arm out, grateful to take the room. Bones started to back away, though he didn't know where the hell she thought she was going. Before she could get too far, he took his other hand and gently guided her head to his shoulder.
"See, Bones – that's better, right?"
She nodded, her hair brushing lightly against his chin. After another second or two, he felt her start to relax against him. She rested her head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.
"Now, Bones," he said, lowering his voice to whisper in her ear – just because it seemed appropriate given the situation. "You're not gonna freak out on me in the morning, are you? Decide we can't be partners anymore or try to have me transferred to Timbuktu, just 'cause you can't bear to look at my handsome face?"
He couldn't see her roll her eyes, but he could definitely hear it in her voice. "I'll try to control myself."
"Good," he smiled, holding her a little tighter. "That's all I'm askin', Bones."
He didn't actually expect to sleep, but sometime later he woke up to find Bones mumbling something, her body warm and her hair damp beneath his chin. It was hotter than hell in the sleeping bag – he'd already gotten rid of his sweatshirt and apparently Bones had too, because she was wearing only his t-shirt. She was pressed against him, one very naked leg draped over his, and he tried everything he could think of to keep his body from reacting. Which was a lost cause, of course. Bones mumbled something that sounded like 'Strawberry Fields,' and he wasn't sure whether he should wake her or not. Probably not – how bad could a dream about strawberry fields be?
He ran a hand experimentally down her arm, feeling the muscle and that kind of delicate strength that he liked so much about her. It sure as hell wasn't helping the situation down south, but he couldn't help it – besides, it was just her arm. So, he lay there and after a while his body settled down, and he just watched her for what seemed like hours. The fire had long since died out, but his eyes were adjusted to the darkness enough that he could just make out the way her face relaxed in sleep, her incomprehensible mumbles, the flicker of a smile, the way she'd curl into him every once in a while. Eventually, the mumbles started to sound more desperate, and he felt her tense like wire in his arms.
"Bones," he whispered, shaking her gently.
She opened her eyes, disoriented for a second before she realized where she was.
"You were dreaming," he told her – in case she thought he'd just woken her up for the hell of it.
She nodded. "What time is it?" she asked.
It was dark out, no sign of a sunrise. That was the best he could do. "No idea. Night-time, still."
Another nod, as she relaxed in his arms once more. "I'm not really tired anymore," she told him after a while, though her voice still sounded sleepy and she didn't seem all that awake.
"Well, I am," he told her honestly. "Tell me a story."
She pushed away so she could actually look at him, trying to tell if he was serious.
"What kind of story?"
He pretended to think about it, though he knew exactly what he wanted to hear.
"Tell me why you wrecked that church," he said quietly. He didn't know why it should matter – honestly, what was the big deal? But for some reason he felt like knowing this story would make her suddenly make sense to him, in a way she never had before.
He waited until she finally nodded.
"You have to tell me about the first time you were arrested, though. I tell you stuff, you tell me stuff," she quoted back at him – he knew that one was gonna come back and bite him in the ass. Shit.
He swallowed hard, finally nodding after he took a second or two to think it over. It was dark, fog heavy in the air and no stars to be seen, the rest of the group retired to their respective corners. They were alone, and it felt like the heat between them was enough to keep him warm through whatever cold, dark things might come up for the rest of his life. If there was ever a time for honesty, this seemed like it.
"All right – but you first."
Another few seconds passed, and he thought she might have gone back to sleep – or at least be faking it. But eventually, she started in, her head nestled at his neck and her breath warm on his skin.
"When I was sixteen, I lived with a foster family – the Maples. The father was a deacon at the local church. The mother – Emma – played piano quite well, and used to knit these awful hats that she gave to everyone, but she never made us wear them."
There wasn't actually enough room to look at her, but maybe that was better. He rested a hand on the small of her back, moving his hand in slow, gentle circles while she talked, waiting for her to ask him to stop or say something about it.
"They had two of their own kids – twins, ten years old. Very well-behaved, but of course I thought they were monsters at the time. They'd adopted another foster child – he was fourteen. Mark."
She paused. He didn't say anything – too caught up in imagining a sixteen-year-old Bones, scared and abandoned, no anchor and no place to call home.
"They sound okay," he finally said, hoping it wouldn't pull her out of the memory.
She nodded. "They were, actually. I know you hear all these horror stories about children's services and foster homes, and I certainly had my fair share of them afterward, but… They were nice people."
She fell silent for so long that he finally cleared his throat, and she looked up like she was startled to find him there.
"So, what happened, Bones? How'd you go from a salt of the earth suburban family to dumping blood on the guy's altar?"
"They wanted to adopt me," she said simply, like that explained everything.
It took him a second or two to puzzle it out – once he had, he kind of wished he hadn't because it honestly broke his heart. He moved his hand to her hair, pulling back so that he could look at her. There were tears in her blue eyes, that determined look on her face that told him there was no way in hell she was gonna let them fall.
"But you were waiting for your folks to come back, so you didn't want to be adopted," he guessed. "So, you did the only thing you could think of so bad they wouldn't want you anymore."
Another nod, and he watched as a single tear slid down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, never taking his eyes from hers.
"I wrote my name in cow's blood on the altar: 'Temperance loves Satan.'"
Booth's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but grin.
"Why are you smiling?" she demanded. "I was trying to think of the thing that would upset them the most."
"I'm sorry, it's just… God, Bones, you've never been much for subtlety, have you. Temperance loves Satan?"
She smiled a little, but the smile was gone in a flash once she continued with the story. "The priest there had me arrested, though no charges were filed. They sent me away the next day. Emma cried the whole way to family services."
There was silence for a long time before she finally continued. It was only once she did that he realized she was crying; he started the circles on her back again, brushing his lips against her forehead.
"I went back to the church last year," she sniffed and rubbed her eyes, quickly getting hold of herself once more. "To try and pay for the damages I'd done, but it wasn't there anymore. They said it burned down about ten years ago, and no one could tell me what happened to the Maples."
Booth kept his arms around her, his lips on her forehead. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and it didn't begin to cover what he was feeling. And then something occurred to him, and he had to smile at the thought. He kissed her forehead again, just because she was letting him and her skin felt good, tasted good, on his lips.
"You know, I would've been nuts about you in those days."
She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean? You were an athlete – I'm sure you had any number of popular girls lined up waiting to date you. I was just… Me. Too skinny, I read all the time, had no idea what to wear or what to say, my family gone…"
"I liked the smart, quiet girls. I mean – I didn't usually date them, because, well, I had a reputation to live up to." She laughed, and he smiled at the sound. "But you… I would've been a goner. Those eyes? That sad story? I would've snuck you home like I did every other stray I came across. You would've thought I was the biggest loser on the planet, but I would've been nuts about you."
Kind of like now, he thought. But he didn't say it.
"I don't think you're a loser," she said softly, maneuvering so she could look him in the eye when she said it. Another tear slid down her cheek, that wrinkle in her forehead signaling just how much she meant it. He thought back to their conversation on his birthday, after the whole crappy thing with Jared.
"Thanks, Bones," he said. "I know you don't."
It got quiet. Gradually, the space between them got smaller and smaller and suddenly his lips were just seconds, just a breath away from hers. He swallowed. Closed his eyes. And took the leap.
Her lips were softer than he remembered from the Christmas kiss. It started slow – an experiment, almost like they could still take it back. They stopped, looked at each other; he waited for her to freak out. Apologize. Say she hadn't meant to and they needed to stop, for the sake of the partnership. The friendship. The queen.
She didn't say any of those things. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him again - her lips parted, her heart racing against his, and then she pulled away.
"We should go to sleep," she told him, but she was smiling and it seemed to him in that second that, for the first time in his life, he knew what she was thinking.
"Yeah," he nodded. Took a deep breath, trying to cool his blood and his jets and his shorts. Now wasn't the time. Not here, not like this.
But it would happen. And that would just have to be enough.
They fell asleep wrapped up in each other, frustrated and overheated and still, somehow, smiling. Booth had never been happier about a crappy, sexless night's sleep in his life.
TBC
Mother of Moses, that was a long one. I'll try to have the next chapter up before next Sunday, but only time will tell. I do love the feedback along the way, though, so keep it comin' and, as always, thanks for reading!