Déjà Vu Chapter 5
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!
Seeley Booth was a lot of things. Being prepared for his partner to clock him one in the face was not one of them. He awoke to something freezing cold being placed on his face. After the obligatory obscenity due to both surprise and the throbbing pain in his face, he settled down to eyeing his contrite looking partner warily. Currently the image of her naked was the farthest thing from his mind.
At least she's dressed, he thought, taking in her t-shirt and sweatpants at a glance.
"I'm sorry," Temperance said. Booth blinked.
That was not the reaction I expected, he thought. Out loud he said, "It's okay. I shouldn't have ogled you." Her mouth twitched. "What? What'd you expect me to say?" he asked.
"I don't know," Temperance said, looking torn between amusement and embarrassment. "That's not the point. I might have overreacted," she admitted. Booth stared, and then dropped the bag of ice from his face.
"Might have?" he quoted. "I said I was sorry! You should know that when confronted with a beautiful naked woman a man automatically looks! Even if he doesn't want to!" Temperance looked even more embarrassed at his outburst before she got angry.
"You were staring!" she insisted. His retort slipped out before he thought about it.
"So? No, wait…" he back-pedalled, looking nervous. "That didn't come out right." Temperance snorted and forced his hand back up to his face, pressing the ice pack onto the rapidly darkening bruise.
"That's going to bruise," she said. Booth heard the apology in her voice and sighed.
"It's fine," he muttered and lay back in an attempt to relax. "You really do hit like a man, Bones. Jesus!" he whined.
"Stop being a baby, Booth," Temperance said. "I'm going to have a nap. Angela should be done in about three hours." Wordlessly Booth waived her off and listened to her bare feet pad down the hall before he stood up and found a mirror. Gingerly he prodded the tender area and winced at the thought of just how bad it would look in a few hours. After a few minutes reflection, coupled with a rather lurid grin, he decided that it had been worth it. Temperance Brennan naked was not something he would ever forget.
"Down boy," he chuckled and returned to the files he had left on Temperance's coffee table to catch up on much needed paperwork. "Ah the bane of a federal agent," he mused to himself, absently holding the ice against his face as he began to work.
The sound of a key in the lock three hours later made him pull out his gun and stealthily creep toward the front door. He watched as an athletically built man cautiously entered the apartment and turned to close the door. Booth sprang.
"FBI, freeze," he ordered, the telltale sound of a firearm being cocked echoing through the room. The man froze, a horrified look on his face. "Who are you?" Booth demanded.
"His name is Peter, and he's my ex-boyfriend," Temperance's voice interrupted. "Why are you here, Peter?" she asked. The man in question briefly glanced back at the barrel of Booth's gun fearfully, and Booth felt a surge of satisfaction. "Booth, drop the gun," Temperance said.
"Sure, anything you say, partner," he said with a cocky smirk. Peter eyed the FBI agent warily before speaking up.
"Uh, w-while you were away, I um…I …" he trailed off at the disgusted look on the anthropologists face. "What?" he asked. Temperance glowered harder, her lip curling up into a snarl.
"I know why you're here. You came back for a booty-call!" she said.
"What?" Booth said as he began glaring himself. Peter backed up nervously.
"Hey, c'mon. This is obviously just a negative reaction to-" Temperance interrupted his psychobabble by punching him in the face just as Booth stepped behind him to open the door. Peter stumbled back out into the hallway cradling his face and making agonised sounds.
"I think you broke his nose, Bones," Booth said.
"Good," she replied, slamming the door before Peter could muster up what remained of his tattered dignity. "I'll send a courier with your TV!" she shouted through the door. "Asshole!" Booth chuckled at her anger, backtracking quickly when he saw the angry gleam in her eyes.
"Easy, Bones, easy. You've already clocked me today, remember?" She gave him a fierce grin and he savoured the odd feeling that lurched in his gut at the sight. Their gazes locked, her bright blue eyes boring into his own for what felt like an eternity before she looked away. Booth sagged slightly, feeling as if she had just peered into his soul then jumped when her phone trilled from its hiding place in her purse.
Temperance reached the small bag in two strides, snatching the phone out and flipping it open in a single motion.
"Yes?" she snapped, only belatedly remembering her manners.
"Okay, what did I interrupt?" Angela's voice asked. Temperance closed her eyes and counted to ten.
"Run in with an old boyfriend," she answered shortly.
"Ooh, juicy!" Angela responded. Temperance sighed and massaged her temples.
"Ange," she prompted.
"Sorry, Sweetie. I've finished, you want to come back?"
"Alright, I'm on my way," Temperance said, "be there in thirty minutes." She hung up before her friend could respond and strode back to her bedroom.
"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" Booth called from the living room. In the middle of removing her t-shirt, Temperance paused.
"Really?" she said
"Uh, yeah, Bones. She's supposed to be your friend? You didn't even say goodbye!" he responded. Temperance grimaced and extricated herself from the rest of her sleepwear.
"Damn," she muttered, rooting through her walk-in closet for the appropriate clothing. "You think I should apologise?" she called. Booth's voice sounded like it came from just outside her room.
"I think so. Think of it as personal growth," he said. Temperance pictured the cheeky grin on his face and felt her lips perk into a smile.
"Growth, huh?" she said, plucking a tasteful white blouse and pants combo from the racks and slipping them on. She wiggled slightly to get into the jeans, but the way they hugged her curves in the mirror made up for the extra effort it took to pull them on. Nodding in satisfaction, she grabbed a necklace from the stand Angela had made her for her birthday and slipped on a pair of earrings before walking into the hallway.
"I was wondering…" Booth trailed off as Temperance stepped out, her sculpted legs and perfectly proportioned bottom hugged by a pair of jeans that looked as if they had been painted on. Holy cow.
"Wondering what, Booth?" Temperance asked. His mouth worked for a moment before he spoke.
"Wondering how long it would take you to get dressed," he said. Temperance shrugged.
"Well I'm dressed now, so we can go." Booth nodded
"Right, let's go, Bones."
"Don't call me Bones," Temperance insisted. Booth smiled, placing his hand at the small of her back and gently propelling her toward the front door.
"You can say that 'till the cows come home, Bones," he said, "I'm still gonna do it." Temperance rolled her eyes and snagged her purse, keys and coat from the stand as she walked past.
"What a pain," she muttered.
"You love it," Booth teased. Temperance couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face.
I really do, she thought, revelling in the sense of total companionship that she felt. The pair continued down to the SUV, exchanging little grins every now and then at their private joke, and she wondered why she had never felt such a sense of fulfilment with anyone else.
She supposed it was both the experience they were sharing and the sense that both completely understood the other, dispensing with the need to present their best face toward the other as normal people would.
He knows my flaws, Temperance thought. He knows me. It made her feel warm inside.
"Hey, Booth," she said. He glanced at her, a roguish smile decorating his lips.
"Yeah, Bones?" he replied.
"How well do you know me?" she asked, leaning her head against the headrest of her seat. Booth darted a considering look at her for a moment, still concentrating on driving. She watched him wet his lips.
"I'll answer with this question: how well do you know me?" he said. Temperance huffed in vexation.
"That's not an answer!" she insisted. He chuckled.
"Just answer, Bones," he said. Grumbling softly, Temperance crossed her arms.
"Pretty well. Now answer my question!" she said. Booth shook his head, a mock disappointed expression on his face.
"Only pretty well, Bones?" he said. She growled.
"Booth!" she exclaimed. He gave her a pointed look and she sighed. "Okay, well. I think I know you well."
"How well?" he returned immediately. Temperance frowned, confused as to why he was asking.
"I'm confused," she said honestly, prompting another smile from Booth.
"With all that's happened in the last, what, day? How well do you think you know me?" he asked. Temperance paused, her logical mind turning the statement over on itself several times.
"I believe I know you very well," she said at length, "but without testing that knowledge, I cannot say for certain." Booth nodded.
"Right. Same here. I believe I know you very well, but I can't really say. We've not exactly had much time to get to know one another." Temperance tried looking for a deeper meaning behind his words.
"So you're suggesting we get to know one another more?" she said.
"Pretty much. Plus I'm getting really tired of the déjà vu thing. We've got to find something to do that doesn't set it off all the time. I get it every time I walk into the Jeffersonian, the diner, Wong Fu's, your apartment, my apartment. It's ridiculous!" Temperance nodded in agreement, recalling the hundreds of uncomfortable sensations she had been feeling recently.
"Okay, so what do we do?" she asked.
"I dunno," he admitted, "try different things, I guess."
"What about trying things we would not normally do?" Temperance suggested.
"Like what?" Booth asked.
"I don't really like going to bars," she said. Booth chuckled.
"You're suggesting we get wasted again," he said.
"No I'm not," Temperance insisted, "I don't do well in social situations, it puts me out of my element."
"Of the lab," Booth said.
"No, of a peaceful, structured environment conductive to work and study," she corrected. He grinned.
"Right, like a lab," he said, drawing out the syllable mockingly. Temperance sighed.
"Yes, like a lab," she muttered, feeling petulant.
"Aww, don't sulk, Bones! I have to win some sometimes," Booth said. "Anyway, it sounds like it might work. We'll just have to behave sensibly," he said. With that agreed, they finished the journey in satisfied silence, both mulling over exactly how well they really knew the other.
Angela watched Temperance and Booth arrive, both discussing something animatedly. Despite the obvious disagreement between them, Booth's hand was solidly entrenched in its place at the base of Brennan's spine, the duo's bodies walking close together.
There is no way that this is normal, she decided to herself. Something was up, something big. Then she saw Booth's black eye and the occasional guilty looks that crossed Temperance's face when she thought he wasn't looking. Angela stifled a laugh, wondering just what happened to make Brennan react with violence. Had the sexy FBI agent gotten a little too frisky? She would find out. Soon.
"Sweeties!" she called, waving her hand and directing them to her office. "How are you? Ooh, that looks nasty, Agent Booth. Run into a difficult suspect?" she asked. The pair exchanged an awkward glance.
"Er, what have you got for us, Angela?" Temperance said. Angela gave her friend a pointedly suspicious look at the blatant dodge, then gestured to the small dais in the middle of the room
"Does Agent Booth know how this works?" she said. Temperance glanced at Booth, who gave a minute nod. Had she not been looking for it, Angela would have completely missed it. she filed it away for later reference.
"Uh, yeah. Bones gave me some info," Booth said. Angela gave a mental wince at the awful lie and wondered how Booth knew about the system. He hadn't been shown it before and the others would have mentioned had they told him about it. Temperance's look had been questioning, not reminding. Angela supposed that he could have learned about it through the FBI, since it was a fully registered system, but she highly doubted it. You had to know what you were looking for to get that information.
"Right. I designed the system, and it'll allow us to get nearly 100 accurate approximations of victim's faces. Much better than photofit," she muttered disparagingly to herself. Booth smothered a grin at the artistic superiority the normally bubbly woman was oozing.
"Great, I'm sure it'll be a great help, Angela," he said. She nodded.
"Well, Bren applied tissue markers to the skull she repaired," she said.
"Her skull was badly damaged but racial indicators, cheekbone dimensions, nasal arch, and occipital measurements suggest African-American," Temperance said. Booth rubbed his head tiredly. He was beginning to get used to the feeling now.
"And we have our victim," Angela said as the machine lit up to display a slowly rotating bust.
"Substitute using mixed race values, Ange," Temperance instructed. The buzz at the back of her skull made her swallow a grimace when her friend spoke up.
"Lenny Kravitz or Vanessa Williams?" she asked.
"Uh…" Temperance stalled, looking slightly nauseous.
"You okay, Sweetie?" Angela asked. Temperance waved her concern away.
"Bad food," she explained. "Can you try?" she asked, gesturing to the display. "We should give it a name," she added to Booth.
"How about the Angelator?" he suggested, an amused smile decorating his face.
"Hey, I like that," Angela said as she typed. "There, how's that?" The face displayed morphed slightly, displaying a young half-black woman.
"Reduce tissue depth over the cheekbones to the jaw-line, please," Temperance said. The picture changed again.
"Cleo Louise Eller," Booth said grimly.
"The girl who had the affair with the senator," Zach said.
"Jesus! When did you get here?" Booth exclaimed. Zach looked unnerved and slightly annoyed at the reaction.
"I've been here the whole time," he said flatly. Booth glanced at Temperance who nodded.
"Great. Warn a guy next time, okay?" he said.
"Sure," Zach muttered. Beside him, Hodgins looked fit to bust a gut laughing. "It's not funny," Zach whispered loudly with a frown.
"Yeah, it is," Hodgins said.
"Why is it funny? Agent Booth simply did not see me, and therefore was surprised I was in attendance."
"Dude, you define the term 'wallflower.'"
"There are many types of wallflower. Which one in particular?" Zach asked. Hodgins swallowed his laugh at the various annoyed looks being sent in their direction.
"Never mind, Zach," he muttered. Booth cleared his throat, glad the interruption was over.
Time to get the squints revved, he thought.
"Her name is Cleo Louise Eller, the only daughter to Ted and Sharon Eller. Last seen approximately nine p.m., April 6th, 2003 leaving the cardio-deluxe gym on Kay Street. She didn't even make it to her car. I was secondary in that investigation. I know her family, her parents. They're good people. She didn't deserve to die."
"No one does," Temperance pointed out.
"Some people do," Booth argued. "Scumbags like the guy who pulped her face to hide her identity." Temperance lowered her eyes, silently agreeing. "Now I have to find out who killed her without getting kicked off the case for accusing a state senator of murder."
"We'll help," Temperance assured with a smile.
"Thanks, Bones." Angela, Jack and Zach exchanged glances.
"Okay, what the hell is going on?" Angela demanded as she stood up and crossed her arms.
"Nothing, Ange," Temperance insisted.
"Actually there appears to be some form of bonding occurring between yourself and Agent Booth," Zach interjected. Temperance sighed and rubbed at her face tiredly.
"Yeah, you guys were screaming at each other last year and now you're best buds? C'mon, we're not stupid," Hodgins stated. Booth shared a frustrated look with Temperance and sighed.
"Give us a minute," he said after gesturing to talk outside. They nodded and Temperance followed him into the hallway. "Bones, they're not going to leave this alone," Booth warned softly. She rubbed her arms uncomfortably and nodded.
"I know. I just don't like the idea of telling them when we have no idea what's going on. They're my colleagues, people I respect," Temperance said.
"We have to tell them, Bones," Booth murmured. She sighed.
"Let's just get our story straight first. At least then it won't be so confusing."
"Bones, it is confusing. It's déjà vu. All day," he pointed out. Temperance groaned. "Let's try telling the truth, okay? C'mon, we know it won't be too bad, right? What's the worst that could happen?"
"We could be sectioned and committed to mental institutions," she said. He hesitated.
"Okay that'd be pretty bad," he admitted, "but that's a long shot, Bones. You know it." she nodded dubiously.
"I guess," she muttered reluctantly. They began walking back to Angela's office. "It's just not logical," she complained, her tone bitter.
"Tell me about it. At least we have each other, right, Bones?" Booth consoled. Temperance gave him a small smile in response.
"So, got your cover stories straight?" Hodgins asked archly. Booth frowned.
"Shut up, Hodgins. All of you come with us," he commanded. Temperance glanced at him curiously and he indicated the rest area on the suspended platform. Her expression cleared and she nodded in agreement. Dutifully and with only a few complaints, the group moved to the comfortable seating, finally ending up facing Booth and Brennan, who remained standing.
"Where do we start?" Temperance muttered, suddenly feeling awkward.
"The beginning helps," Angela joked, though she looked nervous. Temperance essayed a nervous smile.
"Right," she said. "Uh, it started when I got to the airport," she began.
"When I picked up the phone at the office," Booth supplied at her glance. "I'd had a headache all morning. Partly from dealing with…loyal people," he said after a pause and a glance in Zach's direction. "But also just a random headache. I needed Bones' assistance on this case, so I called in a hold for questioning."
"Just after that, I was brought in by Homeland Security," Temperance took over, nodding in Angela's direction. "Ever since my arrival I'd felt like something was building, though I had no idea what. When the agent arrived, it started."
"What started?" Angela butted in.
"Déja vu," Temperance and Booth said at the same time.
"When she was taken in, they gave me the heads up," Booth continued. "They told me she looked like death warmed over."
"I felt it," Temperance groused. "I've never felt so nauseous. The feeling of déjà vu was so strong the room was practically spinning."
"My headache was practically trying to fry my brain," Booth said, "so I hot-footed it to the airport and barged into the interview room."
"Then it stopped," Temperance said, looking at Booth.
"What stopped?" Jack piped up.
"My headache and her déjà vu," Booth explained. "As soon as we saw each other it went away."
"Then it got weird," Temperance muttered, looking faintly amused. Zach, Hodgins and Angela exchanged dubious glances. 'Then?' Angela mouthed incredulously.
"Really weird," Booth agreed. "It's like we'd known each other for years. Had spent every day with each other."
"We knew that the last time we had seen each other we were practically at each others throats, but we were just…" Temperance sought vainly for the word.
"Comfortable," Booth supplied.
"Right, comfortable with each other. We even agreed it was completely implausible," Temperance said. Booth bobbed his head in agreement.
"Totally crazy," he said.
"And then we went to the crime scene," Temperance said.
"And it got weirder," Booth said.
"You've got to be kidding me," Angela muttered.
"How do you think we feel?" Temperance said, her expression exasperated.
"So yeah, we got to the crime scene. And guess what," Booth said.
"Déja vu," Temperance supplied. He snapped his fingers.
"Right," he said, "good ole déjà vu. Again." Zach's eyes widened in realisation.
"That's how you knew about her tennis injury," he said. Temperance looked pleased at his deduction. Hodgins and Angela turned to their colleague.
"What's this?" Hodgins asked.
"When Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth arrived at the scene I noticed an unusual amount of physical contact between them considering their previous history. As they last were seen arguing heatedly, their new attitudes toward each other was curious, so I observed as best I could from the shore. Then, after they dredged the body from the water, Dr. Brennan only gave the body a cursory glance before making a series of observations. At the time, I believed that it was her expertise allowing her to identify everything so quickly, but-"
"Who Zach, slow down, buddy," Hodgins interjected. Booth gave him a grateful look.
"We already knew who she was when we found her," Booth said.
"We seem to have some limited form of prescience that manifests when certain objects or places are before us," Temperance added. "When we found Cleo Eller's body, we just seemed to know. I remembered identifying the various features on Cleo's skeleton and simply spoke what I already knew." She looked at Zach. "I assume you verified my observations at the lab?" Zach nodded.
"Everything you said was spot on, Dr. Brennan. I apologise, I shouldn't have doubted you. Your current dementia is troubling however." Temperance swallowed and essayed a sickly looking smile. Her glance at Booth practically screamed I told you so.
"It's not dementia, Zach," Angela muttered sourly. "Not unless it's catching. How far does it go?" she asked the pair. They exchanged a glance.
"My apartment, her apartment, here, work, Wong Fu's, a diner I like to go to sometimes, the park where I play with my son," Booth trailed off. "Pretty much everywhere. The only time we've been free of it has been when we got smashed the night before last."
"Hah! I knew it!" Angela crowed in delight. Temperance rolled her eyes.
"So not the time, Ange," she said. The artist grinned, embarrassed, and quietened down.
"Right, sorry. You said it's like you've known each other for years, have you tested it?" Angela asked. The pair nodded.
"Yeah, I listed off a bunch of things only she should know. We were pretty shaken up after that," Booth said. Angela sat back, looking stunned.
"I bet," she muttered.
"So you're saying you have limited prescience, seem to know each other like you've known each other for years and get déjà vu pointing you in the right direction?" Hodgins asked.
"Pretty much sums it up, yeah," Booth said with a nod. Jack laughed.
"Cool."
"That means you know who killed Cleo Eller, or have a strong suspicion," Zach said. Everyone paused, waiting on their response. Temperance exchanged a glance with Booth and shook her head minutely.
"We can't tell you," she said. "It might make you miss something you would otherwise find if you are making assumptions. Currently we've decided to follow the evidence. If it takes us to who we suspect-" she trailed off.
"Then we have our proof," Booth added.
"That doesn't prove anything," Zach said. "You could change your minds and claim you already knew," he pointed out. Temperance nodded.
"He's right," she said. "We need some way to tell them without doing so."
"What about a sealed envelope?" Angela suggested, "one we open only after the case is solved?" Hodgins grinned.
"I have one better. A sealed envelope in a time-locked Perspex case constantly monitored by a live video feed. That way it'll be sealed, unlockable until we solve the case!"
"One problem, genius," Booth said, "we don't know how long the case is going to take. Putting a time delay on it could make you rush, which could lead to mistakes, which could lead to the killer getting away with it." everyone nodded.
"What about Dr. Goodman?" Zach suggested. "We could tell him we're conducting an experiment and have him create the code to the box. That way none of us would be able to get it until after the case is solved and it would give a modicum of credence to your claims." Everyone exchanged glances.
"That's not bad. Way to go, Addy," Booth said. Zach gave a tight, pleased grin in response. "So, who builds the box?" Booth asked. Zach and Hodgins leapt up and dashed off without a word. "Okay, answers that question," he muttered to himself. That left Angela, who stared at the pair piercingly. "Oh dear," Booth said.
"Yeah," Temperance echoed. The artist stood.
"Spill," she commanded. They glanced at each other, clearly confused.
"What?" Booth tried.
"Oh, please. You're practically humping each other with your eyes," Angela said bluntly.
"Angela!" Temperance exclaimed, looking shocked. Booth frantically tried to control his blush as images of a naked Temperance Brennan danced across his mind's eye once more.
"Uh-huh. Well lover-boy over there certainly seems to have something on his mind," Angela said.
Crap, Booth thought as Temperance stared at him in surprise. Wordlessly, he pointed to his bruise. She flushed an attractive shade of pink in response.
"Just drop it, Ange. It was just an embarrassing incident, nothing more. We didn't have sex or anything so sordid."
"Having sex with me would be sordid?" Booth asked before he could stop himself. He groaned at Angela's expression and flinched at the look of unbridled fury on his partner's face. "It just slipped out," he explained. Temperance stalked toward him and began poking him furiously in the chest.
"Keep your alpha male ego to yourself! You're not helping!" she growled. He gave her a rakish smile to try and calm her down, but it only served to make her glare harder.
"Okay! Okay!" he yelped when she raised her finger to poke him again. "Just stop poking me!" Temperance whirled on Angela.
"And you! Drop it! It's not like I've got enough stress with this ridiculous déjà vu going on!" Angela had the common sense to spot an explosive Brennan a mile away and gave her friend a gentle smile.
"Okay, Sweetie. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," she said. Booth stared at her, gob-smacked that she suddenly backed down, until she shot him a cheeky wink.
"You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered. Temperance had breezed past him by this point, and was well on her way back to her office.
"Aww, poor Booth," Angela drawled. "You know her so well, yet fail to learn a thing," she teased, gently patting him on the cheek in a patronising manner. He sighed and dropped his head.
"I have a headache," he muttered.
