Déjà Vu Chapter 4

Déjà Vu Chapter 4

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing! Makes me want to write more. Who wants more? ;)

The fire was everywhere, the heat searing and blistering her skin. Her kitchen was annihilated, shards of her destroyed fridge scattered everywhere, the heavy stainless steel door nothing more than twisted wreckage. As she staggered through the smoke, her vision blurry from the tears it caused, she desperately sought him, her voice hoarse from her frantic screams.

Then her foot caught, and she stumbled, her hand landing on a scorching hot piece of metal. She cried out in pain and cradled her hand to her chest, then remembered the oddly soft obstruction that caused her to stumble. It was a body. His body.

Sobbing, she crawled over and took stock of his injuries through the haze that now covered the room. She realised then everything was oddly silent, though there may have been a distant roar somewhere. She hugged him, cradling his prone body to her chest as his life blood pumped out all around him from the deadly shrapnel wounds. She was red too, though not from his blood. Everything was beginning to become blurry…

She felt his hand reach up and tenderly touch her face, his brown eyes sad. His lips were moving, but she could not read what they said. With her head tilted downwards, she saw the piece of metal embedded in her own chest, her blood running in a slow, weeping river down her chest. Ah. That was why she was dizzy. She was dying.

A flaming object crashed down nearby, but she ignored it, her eyes staring into those of the man on the floor. She would rather be nowhere else at the moment. She didn't feel panicked anymore, and felt a gentle smile tug at her lips as she curled around his dying body, resting her forehead against his. His eyes were the last thing she remembered seeing.

"Booth!" Temperance shouted as she started awake. Before her sat the reassembled skull, tissue markers placed over its surface, and a very startled looking Zach, who held a cup of coffee.

"G-good morning Dr. Brennan," Zach said, offering her the coffee nervously. Still disoriented from the nightmare, Temperance stared at him in incomprehension for several seconds. "Coffee?" he added, once more pushing the cup in her direction. Mechanically she reached out at took it, her mind absorbed in trying to process the conflicting feelings of terror and peace that still lingered.

She swallowed, suddenly reminded of her parched mouth, and raised the coffee to take a sip.

"Thank you, Zach," she muttered. He perked up at her thanks and gave a friendly nod.

"Not a problem, Dr. Brennan. Did you want me to get that over to Angela's lab?" Temperance nodded, suddenly distracted by the buzzing in her pocket. Her phone. She plucked it out, not even needing to look at the caller ID. She knew who it was.

"Booth?" she said. His breathing was harsh and heavy on the other end.

"I had a dream," he said, his voice low and gravely. An unexpected shiver crawled up her spine at the sound of his voice, both pleasant and electric at the same time.

"Me too," she said, her voice suddenly a breathless whisper.

"Bones?" he said. She felt a lump in her throat and took a sudden savage pull on her coffee, ignoring the burning of her tongue and throat.

"Yeah?" she said.

"I really, really hate your fridge." The absurdity of the statement made her erupt with a bark of laughter, soon drowned by uncontrollable giggles that left her gasping for air as she clung to the table, her legs too wobbly to hold her. When she had gotten herself under control – or at least a semblance of it, she smiled.

"I think I do, too. Think I should replace it?" she asked. The smile on his face was almost audible.

"Definitely. Want to go shopping for it after the case?" Booth asked.

"Sure. Did you call as soon as you woke?" Temperance asked, meandering about the platform absently as she played with an errant strand of her hair.

"Not quite. Splashed some water on my face after I checked I didn't have holes in my chest," he joked. "Well…not any new ones, anyway."

"I wondered. You sound sleepy," Temperance said. She began to make her way to the office, oblivious to the stares of her co-workers who stood less than ten feet away.

"Yeah, well," Booth said, "You know what it's like. You at the lab?" he asked.

"Yeah," Temperance said as she sank into her chair with a soft sigh.

"Cool. I'll grab breakfast and bring it over."

"You know what I want?" Temperance asked, making him chuckle.

"Of course. I always know what you want." The roughness in his voice gave her another pleasant shiver as she indulged in a momentary fantasy.

"Okay," she mumbled, feeling breathless. "See you in a bit. And bring coffee."

"Coffee, or good coffee?" Booth teased.

"If you bring good coffee, I'll show you how good it is," she returned, smothering a grin at the momentary shocked silence from the other end.

"Right," Booth said, his voice tight. "See you soon." The line went dead and Temperance allowed herself to giggle. She jumped in surprise when a voice spoke up from the door.

"Oh. My. God." Angela said, her face lit up with a megawatt smile. "Who are you and what have you done with Temperance Brennan?" Temperance groaned, knowing full well where this was going.

"What is it, Ange?" she said. Angela settled into the chair before her desk purposefully.

"Since I know that Agent Hot Stuff is on his way as we speak, we can get straight to the juicy details. What's going on, Bren?" Temperance shook her head, fixing her friend with an annoyed look.

"Nothing's going on, Ange," she insisted.

"Right. And I'm the queen of France," Angela deadpanned. Temperance rolled her eyes.

"Really! Nothing is going on." Temperance made sure to emphasise each word separately to get her point across.

"Uh-huh. So you didn't take a day off to get blitzed with Agent Double-Oh Naughty?" Angela asked. Temperance dithered, fully aware she was awful at lying. "Ah-hah!" Angela crowed, "that proves it! c'mon Sweetie, dish the goss!" Temperance blinked.

"Dish the what?" she asked.

"The gossip, girl. Dish the gossip. Right now, before he gets here." Temperance dropped her face into her hands and groaned. Her mind absently wondered if Angela was somehow related to a rotweiler, as both refused to let go once they had their teeth into something. Not that there was anything for her teeth to get into, her mind pointed out smoothly.

"Ange! Please! There is nothing going on!" she cried in frustration. Angela looked disapproving and wagged a finger at her as she stood up.

"Fine, be that way. I'll get to the bottom of this, mark my words! It's better to tell me now, less painful that way!" She leaned closer over the desk. "Think of it like ripping off a band-aid."

"Ange, please," Temperance pleaded. Angela held up her hands in surrender.

"Alrighty, if you insist. You're the queen of denial."

"Thank you," Temperance sighed, absently waving to her friend as she left the office.

Angela stalked over to Hodgins and Zach with a determined stride.

"Something's going on, here," she said. "Bren's awful at lying. There's something she's not telling me."

"She did seem awfully friendly with Agent Booth despite their previous mutual dislike of each other," Zach reasoned. "There was an above average amount of physical contact at the scene, and Dr. Brennan has not changed her clothes in two days."

"Ew," Angela said, wrinkling her nose. "Maybe I should go back and make her take a shower."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Zach said, pointing to the rapidly disappearing form of Booth, who strode toward Brennan's office quickly.

"And he brings her breakfast?" Angela hissed. "Oh she's so gonna pay," she muttered. Hodgins looked delighted by the turn of events.

"Ah, I love a good conspiracy," he mused, stroking his beard.

Inside her office, Booth looked at Brennan with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

"You didn't even go home to shower? Jeez, Bones, that's gnarly." He offered her a small paper back and coffee before easing himself into the couch. Temperance grunted, perching herself on the front of the desk as she rooted through the bag for her breakfast. Booth chuckled. "Nice, Bones. Way to go all cave-girl."

She glanced up at him mid-bite, a curious expression on her face around the bagel, and he laughed, having to place his coffee on the small coffee table to avoid spilling it. Temperance scowled and swallowed her mouthful before speaking.

"It's not funny, Booth. I was up all night piecing together Cleo's skull. I got done around three this morning. What did you do last night?" she accused, taking another bite from the bagel. Booth looked indignant.

"For your information, I went over the case files again." Temperance rolled her eyes.

"Wow, really helpful," she mocked. "It's not as if we already know what to do. Oh wait, we do."

"Sarcasm isn't helping, Bones," Booth said.

"Hmph. I'm going home for a shower. I'll be back afterward."

"I'll drive you home," Booth offered. Temperance shook her head as she polished off her bagel and coffee.

"That's not necessary Booth," she said after a moment. "I have my car here."

"Shut up and let me drive you home," he muttered, steering her out the office with his hand.

"I'm not some submissive house-wife you can order around, Booth!" Temperance growled, swatting him on the shoulder as she shrugged her coat on.

"Tell me about it," he muttered under his breath. Temperance caught it and punched him solidly on the shoulder. "Ow! Jesus, Bones!"

"Serves you right," she sniped. The pair made their way to the front door, stopping briefly at Angela's office. "Angela, I'm going home for a shower. Did you get cl- the skull?" Temperance said, correcting herself at the last second. Booth glared meaningfully, to which she gave an apologetic shrug. Angela, perceptive as ever, caught the slip and the resulting exchange.

"Yeah, I got it. I should have it for you by this afternoon, Sweetie," she said.

"Thanks, Ange. See you later," Temperance said.

"Bye Sweetie, Agent Booth."

"Angela," Booth said with a nod. The pair left, Angela's dark eyes following them speculatively.

"She's onto us," Booth said as they reached his SUV. Temperance sighed as she leaned back in her seat.

"Yeah. She thinks we're involved," she muttered. Booth laughed softly as he started the engine, his dark eyes dancing merrily.

"Only as much as partners are involved," he said. Temperance managed a rather lame smile and nodded.

"I'm exhausted," she muttered. "Shower and bed for me." Booth nodded and continued to drive in silence, occasionally glancing at his partner as she dropped into a fitful sleep. A smile quirked on his lips as she murmured indistinctly.

"Sleep well, Bones," he whispered. When they arrived at her apartment, he eased himself quietly out the door and around before carefully picking her up and out of the car. She stirred slightly when he closed the car door, but only snuggled into the crook of his neck with a soft sigh. Booth grinned to himself as he entered the apartment building and rode the elevator to her floor, enjoying the feel of her soft skin and warm breath against his sensitive skin.

The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise and he nearly dropped her when she started to nuzzle him affectionately, her chest vibrating with a nearly inaudible sound of approval. "Jesus, Bones," he whispered as he fumbled with her apartment keys, "are you trying to kill me?" Finally getting the door open, he kicked the door closed and trotted quickly over to her couch, setting her down and untangling her fingers from where they had decided to thread themselves in his hair.

"Wakey-wakey, sleepy-head," he carolled with a smile. She peered blearily at him through her lashes, the clear blue of her eyes making him pause for a moment. A languid smile crossed her lips and she reached up to caress his face.

"Mmm…Booth," she murmured. Booth felt his face flush and he cleared his throat. The sound seemed to snap Temperance out of her half-awake state and she snatched her hand back as if burned. "Booth, what-?"

"You fell asleep in the car," Booth interrupted quickly. "I brought you up here." Temperance looked around, recognising her apartment, and sat up.

"Oh," she murmured, "thanks, Booth."

"Think nothing of it," he replied, grinning disarmingly. Temperance managed a weak smile as she stood and moved down the hallway.

"I'm going to have a shower," she said, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle a sudden yawn. Booth nodded behind her back, then realised she wouldn't see the motion.

"Yeah, okay. I've got some case files to go over in the car, anyway." Temperance paused and glanced back at him curiously.

"You want to stay?" she asked. He gave her an amused look.

"I drove you here, Bones. Your car's at the lab, remember? When Angela's completed the facial reconstruction we'll have to go in." Temperance nodded and returned to padding down the hall.

"Makes sense," her voice drifted back, accompanied by the clink of a beaded curtain.

"I'll be right back, have to get the stuff from the car, okay?" Booth called. He heard an indistinct sound of acknowledgement from down the hall and grinned. Turning, he was about to walk out when his eyes fell on the large stainless steel fridge. He shivered, vividly recalling the dream. "I hate that fridge," he muttered, scowling at it venomously.

Annoyed now, he stomped out to the stairs and took them all the way to the ground floor and went to the car, still tramping around as if he was mad at the world. When he reached the black SUV, he paused, wondering just what exactly he was mad about. Shrugging, he grabbed the files out of the small lockbox he also kept a spare gun in and went back inside, this time taking the elevator back up to his partner's floor.

When he finally sat back down on Temperance's couch, he felt disgruntled at the very real memory of the terrifying exploding fridge. He snorted, amused at the private moniker he had attached to the appliance, then sobered as he remembered the dream. Watching as his partner crawled over to his body, tears falling down her face to mingle with the large bloodstain that marred her white blouse.

He swallowed thickly as he recalled how she had calmed upon reaching him, curling up against his side, oblivious to his apologies and pleas for her to run.

"I love you, Booth," she had whispered as he felt the last of his strength leave him, sending him drifting into tranquil darkness. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he realised that his dream-self had not said the same thing, and wondered why not. He felt weak, cowardly, and clenched his fists as a wave of self-loathing suffused his body.

The sound of the shower switching off distracted him enough that he was able to relax, and abruptly he felt the urge to talk to her. Standing, he walked down the corridor until he stood outside the bathroom.

"Hey, Bones?" he called. He felt her surprise on the other side of the door and grinned.

"Um…yeah?" she replied.

"We never talked about the dream," he said. The tension in her voice was audible when she replied.

"So? It's just a dream, Booth, it doesn't mean anything." Booth shook his head and settled himself down against the wall, the bathroom door beside him.

"So what was your dream about, Bones?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter, Booth!" she said, sounding angry. Faint sounds of rubbing reached his ears, and goosebumps prickled on his flesh as he realised she was naked. Swallowing, he bulled forward, needing to talk about it.

"It does, Bones. Or have you forgotten our déjà vu?" he said. He waited a beat before continuing. "I dreamt your apartment was on fire, Bones. That I was dying. That you were injured and bleeding to death. That I died," he added, struggling to raise his voice so she could hear. Abruptly the bathroom door yanked open, and she stood, clad only in a towel that she held to her chest, her hair wet and dripping with tears glittering in her clear blue eyes.

"Stop it!" she shouted. "You're not dead, Booth. You're here!" Caught between the desire to stare at her nearly naked body and continue talking, he did both, leaping to his feet with a startled oath.

"Holy shit, Bones! Put some damn clothes on!" He waited a moment, not hearing her move. "You had the same dream, Temperance," he said softly. He heard her sharp intake of breath at his use of her first name, but carried on. "That's not normal. We both had the same, damn dream. Your apartment was in flames. We were both dying. I died. Did you?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered. He felt her lean her head against his back, subconsciously seeking comfort. Booth turned and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight as a wave of grief washed over him.

"I'm sorry," he said. He felt her shake her head against his neck.

"Don't," she muttered, "it's just a dream. It doesn't mean anything," she repeated.

"Then why are you crying, Bones?" he asked gently. Her body shuddered and her fingers fisted in his shirt as he began to rub soothing circles with his hand on her bare skin.

"It's just a dream," she muttered, her voice thick with tears. He nodded.

"I know, Bones. I know. It's okay, now. We're safe." He continued to murmur soothing words, only half listening to the things coming out of his own mouth as he drew comfort from her very presence, the very fact she was alive and well. He registered she had spoken something from the feel of her mouth moving against his chest. "I'm sorry, Bones. What'd you say?" he said.

"You left," she repeated, shaking slightly. Booth felt a wash of shame flood him again and squeezed her close.

"I know. I'm sorry." Against his chest, Temperance heard and felt his words and smiled. Then she realised that she was crying on her partner's chest and pulled back, embarrassed. She moved back, the towel, gripped firmly in Booth's large hands, did not. They blinked at each other, before his eyes widened and dropped down.

"Booth!" she slapped him as hard as she could and darted back into the bathroom. He stood there, dazed, holding his face.

"Ouch," he muttered, refusing to think of the tantalising image of his naked partner that marched brazenly through his imagination.

"Booth! Towel!" Temperance barked from around the door. Suddenly embarrassed, he closed his eyes and shoved the towel in the direction of the door.

"Sorry!" he called. He felt the towel snatched out of his hand and heard the bathroom door open again. Silence. "Bones?" he asked and risked a glance around his hand. Temperance's fist coming the other way met his eyes. Ohshit, he thought, then saw stars.

Remember! Feedback: it's the coin of the realm!