Moments—Chapter 7
Disclaimer: Don't own them…blah, blah, blah…don't sue…blah, blah, blah.
Author's notes: I apologize for the delay in updating but between being sick, a little under the weather and overworked, I just couldn't seem to find the time (or inclination) to write. I did find the time to build another fortress though—no more cereal boxes! I've built the new fortress out of poster boards covered with pictures of David Boreananz. That's right—you're all so busy drooling over David's beautiful face that you've forgotten about the fruit slushies.
And Queen Isabella—in your last review you questioned why Booth should apologize so profusely for his indiscretion with Cam. The answer—because I said so. (big grin) Ah, I love fan fiction.
As always I truly appreciate all of you who continue to read this story and especially those of you who continue to take the time to leave your lovely, lovely reviews. It's always great to read your wonderful comments.
So please, read, enjoy and let me know what you think. A review a day is my only form of pay—and that lame line is why I don't write poetry.
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She felt warm and comfortable as she snuggled closer to the hard mass that was radiating heat. While firm, the mass also had a supple quality to it like a… Like a body!
Brennan's eyes flew open as her gaze landed on Booth's hand covering hers, which just happened to be lying on his well defined pectoral muscles. She quickly realized that she had been the one to move to his side of the bed. Slowly moving her hand away from Booth's, she took the opportunity to study his physique. His body, littered with light scars, revealed parts of Booth that he had not shared with her.
Her index finger gingerly traced a long scar that started below his left pectoral and extended to his ribcage. It was one of the many scars he had received when her refrigerator had exploded that night—the night she almost lost him. Tears pricked her eyes as she breathed in his scent and continued to trace another scar on his torso. She had memorized every injury he had sustained because he had been protecting her.
After the incident with Kenton, Brennan realized how much Booth actually meant to her. His presence in her life had become more and more significant over the past year. He was her best friend. Angela knew her, loved her and went out of her way to drag Brennan out for fun but it was Booth who really understood her. He seemed to read her mind sometimes. He knew how she felt occasionally even before she did. He was her confidante, her rock, her sounding board—he was the first person she thought of every morning and the last lingering thought before she drifted to sleep each night.
She placed her palm flat against his abdomen and watched the rise and fall of his chest. Her gaze traveled from his chest up to his face, now covered with morning stubble. She could certainly understand any woman's attraction to the agent—even her boss'.
Sighing softly, she studied his features and noticed that he was smiling in his sleep. Her lips quirked slightly at the sight. Only Booth would have a charm smile while he sleeps.
Brennan decided to enjoy the moment as she pushed aside her illogical feelings of hurt. She knew her feelings about Booth and Cam's fling were irrational and she didn't completely understand why she felt the way she did.
Why did it have to be Cam? Why did he have to sleep with someone Brennan had deemed untrustworthy? Cam was proficient and well versed in her job as a pathologist but…there was just something about the woman that Brennan didn't like.
Cam had commandeered the lab and the squints. She assigned nicknames to the team which Brennan found to be belittling as opposed to endearing or cute. She threatened Brennan and the others when they questioned or opposed her orders or her methods. The doctor reminded Brennan of the popular girls in school who felt that they could bully other people and never suffer consequences for their actions.
Her train of thought was detoured as Booth shifted slightly, rolling toward her and pulling her closer to him in the process. Brennan drew in a sharp breath and tensed. She waited and listened to his soft breathing in conjunction with the soft pattering of rain against the window of the motel. As she slowly breathed out, Brennan had a sudden realization—Booth wasn't snoring. He was smiling, breathing softly but he wasn't snoring—he was awake.
"Booth," she whispered. "I know you're awake—let go of me."
His eyes remained closed as he smile grew wider. "You're the one who snuggled up to me Bones. You let go."
Brennan placed her hand flat against his chest and slid her left leg up the length of his legs. Her actions caught Booth by surprise and he opened one eye to study her face. Clear blue eyes with a hint of mischief in them greeted him.
"Bones?"
Any further questions or comments on his part were silenced as Brennan used her legs and the palm of her hand to push Booth off the bed. His body hit the floor with a resounding thud, leaving the agent lying on his back in stunned silence.
She moved swiftly from the bed to the closet to retrieve her clothes. Booth groaned as he slowly sat up and watched her.
"Ouch Bones." He rubbed the small of his back with his right hand and winced.
"I told you to let go," she replied as walked past him, entered the bathroom and slammed the door.
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Sipping the hot brew that passed as coffee from the all night diner, Brennan rang the bell inside the motel office again. After a restless night with little sleep, she found her patience running low. She slapped the small bell sitting on the counter with the palm of her hand once again.
"Good Lord, why are ringing that bell this early in the morning?" the elderly motel manager asked as he grudgingly trekked into the lobby area.
"It's not that early—it's only nine in the morning. I need to use your phone to call DC before we call for a tow truck."
"Well now, DC…that's going to be long distance I believe young lady…"
He smiled and placed the phone on the counter as Brennan removed several dollars from her wallet. "Would you like to purchase an umbrella for your travels today?"
She glanced down at her slightly damp, completely disheveled attire and rolled her eyes. "I don't think it's going to make much difference," she stated as she dialed the number to Angela's office.
"Angela Montenegro, artist extraordinaire," her friend answered in a chipper tone that Brennan found extremely annoying at the moment.
"Ange, it's me."
"Sweetie! Oh my god, I was getting worried! It's nine o'clock in the morning and your not here…wait, why aren't you here? Did you have another date with Sean "He's too sexy for his shirt" Weatherman?"
"How can you be so happy first thing in the morning Ange?" She watched as Booth walked toward the office, still rubbing his back. "To answer your question, no I didn't have another date with Sean. Booth and I were stranded in Dover due to last night's rainstorm. I just need for you to tell Cam that I'm going to be late this morning."
"Hmm, how is Agent Manwhore this morning?"
"Angela!"
"Joke sweetie, it was a joke. But while we're on that topic, is there anything you want to talk about?"
"No," she replied as she watched Booth enter the office.
"You know Bones, you didn't have to kick me out of bed. There was just no need to be that rough—completely unnecessary." He took the small styrofoam cup from her hand and took a sip of its contents before he finally noticed her horrified expression.
"Um, sweetie, we so are having a little girl talk when you get back," Angela said.
"Ange," Brennan began.
"Nope, don't even try to get out of it. You slept with Booth—I get details. It's a pretty cut and dry rule here Bren."
"There is no such rule Angela!"
"Well there is now. See you soon." She ended the call before Brennan could argue with her any further.
He watched as Brennan slammed the receiver onto the cradle. "She thinks we slept together thanks to you!"
Booth smiled as he lowered the small cup from his lips. "Well technically we did sleep together Bones."
"Oh now you want to be literal," she huffed. "Just call for the tow truck so we can get out of this hellhole."
He grinned at her as she moved toward the door. "I thought you didn't believe in Hell."
"I don't but having read some of the mythological tales…"
"They're not mythological," he countered.
"Having read those tales," she continued as she placed her hand on the door, "the series of events of the last twenty-four hours certainly falls within the parameters of Hell that Christianity warns of."
Booth and the motel manager watched as she stormed outside and wrapped her jacket tight around her torso.
"You know son, it's always been my experience that the tough ones are the best ones—they keep you on your toes." The manager handed Booth the phone and winked at him. "Might wanna call for that tow truck now. I'd hate to see your girl get really riled up."
"Technically she's not my, uh, girl," Booth said as he searched for the number of a local tow truck service.
"Uh-huh, right. That'd be like me sayin' this place is just as swanky as The Hilton."
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Two excruciatingly long hours later, the SUV was ready for the trip back to DC. Booth had even paid for a new spare tire out of his own pocket since he was fairly certain that the agency wouldn't cover most of the expenses of the unexpected trip. He planned to fill out the necessary requisition forms for any future trips that took him and Bones any further than twenty miles outside of the city.
He had switched the heat on high and the hot air blowing on his face and warming his chilled body felt wonderful. Casting a quick glance at Brennan in the passenger seat, he smiled. The warmth inside the SUV had managed to lull his partner into a deep slumber.
She had curled her body so that she was facing the passenger's window and had placed her bag against the door to use as a pillow. Her restlessness and yelling in her sleep last night indicated to Booth that she was most likely having nightmares—probably starring Howard Epps.
His hands gripped the wheel at the thought of the psycho serial killer. Epps had managed to break Brennan's confidence in herself, to create self-doubt about the type of person she was. Although he had told her that she would be okay, Booth knew that 'okay' was still a long way off. He knew firsthand that telling someone that they had done the right thing, they had saved a life, wouldn't make up for the life that was taken by their own hand.
He remembered the first person he had killed as a sniper. The date; the time; the direction that the wind was blowing; the clothes that his target was wearing—he had never forgotten those details, including the sick feeling in his gut after he had pulled the trigger.
And now Brennan would have a similar memory for the rest of her life. He felt the familiar sick feeling churn through his stomach as he looked over at her again. As hard as he tried to protect her from being hurt, he had failed but he would give anything for another chance.
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Brennan stirred as Booth pulled into the parking structure of the Jeffersonian and sat up in her seat.
"So here's the game plan Bones. We go home, shower, change clothes and I'll pick you up at your place in an hour. Then we'll go have a little chat with Katie's boyfriend, Lucas…"
"Pick me up here. I have a change of clothes inside plus I need for Angela to reprint some of the photos from the crime scene that were damaged by the rain." She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door.
"Oh, okay," he replied as he studied her face. "Um, Temperance…"
His serious tone and the use of her first name caused Brennan to pause and look at him. "Yes?"
"Is there, um, anything you'd like to talk about?" he asked gently.
You're a murderer. I know.
Brennan's gaze dropped as she shook her head. "No," she mumbled as she closed the door and walked to toward the entrance to the lab.
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Patience was not a virtue—at least not in Angela's book. Generally she felt that if she had to wait on something or someone, then odds were that she was in for a major disappointment. But news that Bren had slept with Booth—so worth waiting for.
Her mouth fell open as a disheveled, dirty Brennan walked into the lab.
"Oh my god, sweetie, what the hell happened to you?" A cursory glance told her that Brennan was not injured but her wardrobe had suffered terribly.
"Mud hole," she responded calmly as she removed Katie Stonestreet's file from her bag. "I need you to reprint the crime scene photos that were destroyed by the rain. I'll have to print out her file again in my office."
Brennan handed the photos to Angela and then proceeded to walk toward her office to find some dry clothes before heading to the decontamination shower.
"Oh don't think you're getting away that easily," Angela muttered as she followed her friend.
She found Brennan sitting on the couch in her office removing her mud clad boots. "I hope I have some extra shoes around here," she mumbled to herself.
"If you don't I'm sure I do. These heels can be a real killer," she stated as she sat down beside Brennan.
"I need those photos reprinted Ange."
"Yeah, and I need details about last night and you pushing Booth out of bed—sounds kinky. Please don't disappoint…"
Brennan rolled her eyes as she leaned back into the soft plush cushions of the couch. "We got a flat, Booth didn't have a spare, we walked to a cheesy motel, there was only one room with one bed…and nothing happened."
"Okay, fine you slept in the same bed with the hunky calendar boy for the FBI and nothing happened…by the way, you're the only woman on Earth who would have the self control to not jump his bones…so what about Sean?"
"Angela, just stop. Okay? Enough. I'm not discussing Booth or Sean with you. Just reprint those photos for me please." She laid her head back and closed her eyes, hoping that Angela would take the hint and leave. She should have known better.
"Fine, Bren, we don't have to discuss Booth or Sean. But we sure as hell are going to discuss why you've alternated between avoiding me and being pissy with me."
"I haven't been avoiding you," Brennan said with a sigh.
"Yeah, you have and it started after the whole thing with Judge Ramos…" She watched as Brennan lifted her head and eyed her warily. "That's what this is about isn't it? You're upset that Cam twisted the facts of the case and that we all went along with it, aren't you?"
"I just don't understand how the people I've worked with for so long—my friends—could ignore the truth and distort the facts, scientific facts…"
"Simple, sweetie. Justice. It was for justice for that poor girl. We discussed it and agreed that Cam's plan to bluff Judge Ramos with the evidence 'twisted' to implicate her son was a good plan. We just wanted the judge to give up her diplomatic immunity Bren. We wanted her to pay for what she'd done…"
"And what if Booth had decided to go along with Cam's plan and the bluff didn't work? We would have sent an innocent man to prison for murder Angela. Our evidence, our truth, was distorted just enough that a jury would have convicted him."
The two women stared at each other for a moment. Angela finally broke eye contact as she reached out and took her friend's hand. "Bren, I love you. I love that you seek the truth in all of these cases and I respect that—I really do. But I don't think Cam's strategy was completely out of line for that case and the circumstances."
Brennan glanced down at their hands clasped together and sighed. "So, what? Agree to disagree?"
" 'Fraid so, sweetie," Angela answered with a smile as she squeezed her friend's hand. "Are we okay now?"
"Yeah, we're good."
"Oh, no we're not 'good' sweetie. We'll be 'good' after our makeup shopping spree." She laughed at the confused look on Brennan's face. "It's like makeup sex but you find a really great sale on some cute shoes instead."
"You just made that up, didn't you?"
"That's what you get for being pissy with me sweetie."
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Author's notes: I don't know when I'll be able to update either of my fics again—hopefully before Christmas. If not, then maybe by the New Year. Hope you enjoyed this extremely delayed chapter—be sure to press the little button and let me know.