Despite the less than ideal circumstances, everyone scrambled to board the mini-bus when the driver finally made an appearance, eager for a reprieve from the biting wind. It was, as Booth had predicted, cramped. The trunk was already filled to its maximum capacity with the equipment their Guide had brought along, so the limited floor space and small number of spare seats were destined to become cluttered with everyone's baggage.
Most of the male Agents chose to situate themselves towards the front of the vehicle. Bob Norris, the eldest member of the group, was at the forefront of the bus – next to the driver – and had the most legroom at his disposal. He was flanked by Otis Lewis, the handsome African-American Agent who had greeted Brennan warmly and made her feel considerably more at ease. Otis opted for the window seat in a row of three conjoined spaces, and Dean Stubbs - the dreary Agent who effortlessly blended into the background - sank into the aisle seat, propping his backpack between them.
Agent Mark Simmons, the young, obnoxious rookie who was clearly more interested in ascertaining what was beneath Brennan's winter coat than making her feel welcome, was forced to move onto the next row. He took the double seat, using his rucksack to bolster his back, and promptly stretched his legs across the adjoining space.
Next to board the bus was Jenny, their overly exuberant guide, and Mark promptly levelled an obsequious smile in her direction. Relieved to stumble across someone who wasn't regarding her with disdain, Jenny immediately took the single seat parallel to Mark's own, striking up an inane conversation about the calamitous weather.
"We're calling dibs on the table," Alex announced loudly, making a beeline for the compact plastic table that was situated between two sets of double seats. The seats in question were facing each other, deviating from the standard design, and Brennan was disappointed that she and Booth hadn't had the opportunity to claim them. Alex opted to face the rear of the vehicle, and the two remaining female Agents settled into the seats directly opposite her.
The reticent Sergio Lorenzo appropriated the remaining standalone seat, removing his Ipod and a worn book from his rucksack; making it clear that he wasn't prepared to rely on anyone else for entertainment.
"It looks like we're stuck with the back seat then, Bones," Booth observed in a jokingly suggestive manner, ushering his partner ahead of him towards the rear of the vehicle. Brennan placed her backpack carefully on the floor, wondering why he was smiling to himself.
"I promise I'm going to be a lot more sympathetic next time you complain about the FBI's frugality," she said dryly.
"Come on, three seats between the two of us isn't that bad. You can even put your feet up if you want." Booth patted the seat between them, and Brennan shook her head, rolling her eyes.
"I'm fine, thank you, Booth." It took her a moment to realise that they were the only partners who had opted to sit together, and she immediately wondered whether her earlier misgivings had left Booth feeling obliged to keep her company. "You know, you don't have to baby-sit me," she informed him quietly, "You're welcome to sit with your friends."
"I already am," Booth said definitively, and Brennan's cheeks warmed slightly in response.
"I just thought… you know… that you probably don't get much time to fraternise with the other Agents because you're always… with me."
"Well, there's no where else I'd rather be, Bones," Booth assured her jovially, winking in a bid to detract from the sentimentality of his statement.
Brennan stared at him for a moment, her pink-tinged cheeks growing even hotter, and then cleared her throat. "Do you think it's going to be a long journey?" she asked after a moment's silence, and Booth nodded regretfully.
"Yeah. It wouldn't surprise me if we're on the road for a few hours."
Teresa White, the attractive, androgynous Agent who seemed to be close friends with Alex Johnson, sighed aggrievedly. "Well, we'd better fucking not be, or else I'm going to wind up with DVT. This is worse than being stuck in economy class," she protested loudly, looking pointedly in the direction of their Guide, whose infectious smile didn't falter.
Jenny stood up, holding out a mitten-clad hand for silence. "OK everyone, just pipe down for a moment. We'll be setting off in a second and yes, I'm not going to lie to you, we're going to be cooped up in here for a while, but Jeff – " she gestured to the driver – "is going to be stopping for regular breaks and we're going to ensure that you're all fed and watered. As you know, the Bureau are coughing up for your meals, so we'll stop for an hour or so at midday and you can re-fuel properly then."
"Where? At McDonalds? I guess it'll be value meals all around, then. Did Cullen give you some coupons?" Agent Lewis asked and everyone, with the exception of Brennan, started to laugh.
Jenny was beginning to look a little flustered, but the radiant smile remained firmly affixed to her face. "Oh, no, it's nothing like that. We'll just stop at a rest area or something. I mean, they have restaurants, right?"
"Well yeah, if you come from a trailer park, I guess they'd qualify as restaurants," Sandra Rivers deadpanned. The plump, middle-aged woman's comment earned another round of laughter.
"And you'd know, right, Sandy?" Mark Simmons hollered sarcastically. "'Cos with the way my donuts keep disappearing, I wouldn't have thought haute cuisine was your kind of thing."
"Says the guy who lives on chips and cheeseburgers," Sandra retorted, her cheeks reddening.
"Hey, babe, I can't help it if my metabolism is better than yours. Maybe next time a perp does a runner, you can pursue him for a change. You never know, you might drop a few pounds." Mark offered his partner a beguiling grin, but it didn't take the sting out of his words.
"You know what, honey, I'd be happy to take a more active role in our partnership, because if I remember rightly, the last perp you tried to chase down hightailed it over a chain link fence and you ripped your pants apart trying to follow him." Sandra returned Mark's fading grin with a decidedly smug smirk, knowing she'd won that argument.
Brennan watched the heated exchange with her mouth hanging open, her wide eyes flitting back and forth between the contemptuous duo in obvious fascination. Booth was already grinning despairingly at his colleagues' antics, but when he saw his partner's expression of utter consternation, he had to laugh.
"See what I mean?" he whispered, tapping her gently on the thigh. "We've got front row seats at the circus, Bones."
"OK, everyone, can we save the name-calling for the playground, please?" Jenny implored, her anxious expression an obvious testimony to the daunting task ahead of her.
"And that's coming from someone who looks like she's fresh out of junior high?" Teresa said in a stage whisper that was excruciatingly audible.
To Jenny's credit, she didn't flinch. The petite redhead simply waited until there was some sense of decorum before continuing. "OK, guys, as you know, the next five days are all about providing you with the tools needed to strengthen your respective partnerships, because I'm a firm believer that everyone has the capacity to work well together if they're willing to make allowances for each other's differences. Most of you are in therapy with Dr Sweets because you've struggled to gel in some way – "
"Excuse me," Brennan interjected, standing up to obtain Jenny's attention, "That's not true. Booth and I were forced into therapy because he arrested my father on suspicion of murder and his superiors envisaged that it might cause a ruction between us, but it hasn't," she stated categorically. "Booth and I are still very good friends."
"Sit down, Bones," Booth hissed, acutely aware of the censorious glances being sent in his partner's direction.
Jenny looked faintly bewildered. "Oh… well… that's great Dr Brennan," she stuttered, frowning when everyone started to titter amongst themselves. "Anyway… as I was saying, the next few days are all about learning how to deal with conflict, and a big part of that is getting to know each other better, understanding what makes your partner tick, how their mind works, and how you fit into their world view. We've got lots of activities planned, and all of them involve working with your partner towards a common goal, and in the process, hopefully you'll come to acknowledge their good points, and learn how to deal with their less favourable qualities, too. By the end of the course, we should be looking at five very effective teams."
"Yeah, right," Teresa murmured, and Sandra nodded her head vehemently in agreement.
"They think they can train me to deal with Mark's 'less favourable qualities' in five days? Hell, it's gonna take me a fucking lifetime," she joked.
"More like a millennium's worth of reincarnation," Alex amended, turning around to glance hostilely in Bob's direction. "I mean, at least Mark's OK to look at. You should try being stuck in a SUV with bruiser Bob over there. The smell alone is enough to knock you out, but if I hear one more lecture about how they used to do things back in the good old days, I swear I'm gonna fucking scream."
Booth sent a plaintive glance in his partner's direction. "Maybe the backseat wasn't such a good idea after all," he whispered, gesturing discreetly in the direction of Sandra, Teresa and Alex, "Because I'm not sure if I can stand listening to them bitching all the way to fucking Timbuktu."
"Timbuktu is in Africa, Booth. Given that we're on a minibus, and not a plane, I think it's highly unlikely that we're headed there."
Booth shook his head in exasperation, though he couldn't help but laugh. "It's just an expression, Bones. It's like saying that we're headed for a far away place, that's all."
"Oh." Brennan looked pensive for a moment, and then regarded him with an aggrieved expression. "I still can't comprehend why we're here, Booth. We're already an exceptionally effective team."
"We're already an exceptionally effective team," Alex mimicked with uncanny accuracy, underestimating Booth's exceptional hearing.
"Yes, we are," he said loudly, glancing pointedly at Alex through the gap in the seats until she and her friends abruptly stopped laughing. "Have you checked the departmental statistics lately, Johnson? Because if I remember rightly, our names were at the top of the list and yours was lagging somewhere near the bottom."
Alex looked suitably chastised. "Come on, Booth, I've only been here for a couple of months. Aren't you going to give me a chance to prove myself?" She sent a flirtatious smile in his direction, hoping to appease the angry glint in his eyes, but he promptly turned away from her.
"So, Bones, any ideas on how to pass the time?" he asked, noticing that their driver was now heading Westbound on the I-66.
"Actually, Agent Booth, I've already got that covered," Jenny announced, making her way down the aisle and handing out worksheets and pens. "I've got some tasks here that should keep you amused for a while, but I'm warning you in advance that you're going to have to switch seats and sit with your partners at some point."
"I'm sorry. Are you qualified to be administering psychometric tests?" Brennan demanded, glancing at the worksheets derisively.
"Bones…" Booth said warningly, seeing Jenny's alarmed expression.
"Um… I'm not… I mean, they're just some exercises designed to foster better communication between you and Agent Booth, that's all," Jenny reassured her haltingly.
"And what if I resent the assumption that there's something wrong with how we communicate in the first place?" Brennan countered, somewhat belligerently.
"With all due respect, Dr Brennan, I'm sure Dr Sweets wouldn't have sent you here if he thought you and Agent Booth were functioning at your optimum potential." Jenny's tone was pacifying, but it didn't have the desired effect.
Brennan's azure eyes narrowed perceptibly. "Excuse me?"
Booth decided that now would probably be a good time to intervene and placed a hand on his partner's forearm. "Come on, Bones, cut the kid a break and save the interrogation for Sweets. She's only trying to do her job."
"Fine," Brennan huffed, folding her arms and turning to gaze out of the window at the nondescript scenery.
Jenny shot a beaming smile in Booth's direction, before gently patting a brooding Brennan on the shoulder. "Dr Brennan… I think you should know that what you're doing right now… well, it's not an example of effective communication," she informed her, making her way up the aisle before Brennan had the chance to respond.
Once she had distributed all of the paperwork, Jenny situated herself at the front of the bus, rubbing her hands together gleefully. "OK, everyone, we're going to tackle exercise number one first."
"Where's the logic in that?" Sandra muttered, earning a round of laughter from Teresa and Alex.
Brennan, however, was well aware that Booth was laughing at Jenny's earlier remark regarding her petulance, rather than at Sandra's sardonic sense of humour. "Stop laughing at me Booth," she growled, frowning when her partner's sniggering promptly increased in intensity. Booth showed no signs of obliging, so she kicked his foot with the heel of her boot, not realising that he'd already removed his shoes and placed them under the seat. A look of horror registered on Brennan's features when her partner let out a restrained yelp of pain, flinching away from her as though he'd been burned.
"Oh my God, Booth… your feet… I'm so sorry," she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth in genuine consternation. Booth brought his knees to his chest, cradling his right foot in his hands, and Brennan guiltily observed his pursued lips and ashen features. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, her voice audibly cracking, and Booth regarded her sharply.
"OK Bones, don't make a scene," he muttered darkly, glancing around to see whether they'd garnered any unwanted attention. "I'll be fine," he added, his tone losing its brusque quality in the face of Brennan's genuine remorse.
They were silent for a moment, and Booth stretched his legs across the middle of their conjoined seats, removing his warm coat and tossing it over his beleaguered feet. The cold always made them ache, so they were more sensitive to pain in general, but Bones couldn't have known that. He glanced at her surreptitiously, nudging her thigh with his toes, and when she finally met his gaze, her desolate expression made his chest tighten in empathy.
"Hey," he murmured, nudging her again and offering her a soft smile. "Don't worry about it - really. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, Bones. I'm fine," he reassured her, forcing his tone to remain light.
Brennan didn't offer a reply, but Booth was taken aback when her hand snuck beneath the fabric of his coat, resting awkwardly against his ankle before she gently started rubbing his injured foot. He wiggled his toes to prove that she hadn't crippled him on a permanent basis, and his eyes crinkled at the corners when Bones emitted a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter.
Their eyes locked, and they shared a warm smile until Brennan gently patted his foot and turned her attention to the worksheets. "Write your partner's name in the middle of the space below and then fold this piece of paper in half – vertically, not horizontally," she read aloud.
They both obliged, rolling their eyes at the perceived inanity of the task.
"In the left hand section, list up to fifteen words/phrases that you would use to describe your partner's positive attributes. In the right hand section, list up to fifteen words/phrases to describe their less desirable traits. Then, think about how these qualities enhance / undermine your partnership. Remember – honesty is the best policy."
Brennan looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugged resignedly. "I guess it could be interesting," she conceded.
Apparently, her opinion deviated from the general consensus.
"You're kidding me, right?" Teresa demanded, her tone dripping with scorn. "You expect me to fill half a sheet of paper with Lewis' good points? I could fit them on a friggin' postage stamp!" she exclaimed, her voice easily travelling the short distance to where her partner was sitting.
Otis shook his head, heaving a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose I should list that razor sharp wit of yours as a positive trait," he hollered sarcastically, and Booth grinned in approval at his classy comeback.
Brennan tapped her partner lightly on the shoulder. "What caused their combative relationship?" she whispered, and Booth held a finger up, hastily scrawling something on a spare sheet of paper before handing it to her discreetly.
'Their politics clash. Typical Republican vs Democrat. Otis thinks Teresa's a Neo Nazi, she thinks he's a bleeding heart. She believes in the death penalty; Otis is all about rehabilitation. He looks at a perp and sees a victim of society, Teresa just sees a scumbag, irrespective of the circumstances. They're supposed to be finding a middle ground; instead it's like a war zone. Otis is a good guy, though.'
Brennan nodded, neatly folding the piece of paper and handing it back to her partner. "That was an excellent summary. Thank you," she said, and Booth regarded her with an odd expression, before shaking his head amusedly.
"You're welcome, Bones. Now, come on, let's get this over with," he said, tapping her worksheet pointedly.
Brennan retrieved her backpack from underneath their seat, pulling out two cumbersome journals. "Would you like to borrow one of my books to lean on?" she asked, and Booth's eyes widened to comical proportions.
"Jeez, Bones, that's not a book, it's a freakin' Encyclopaedia," he observed wryly, nevertheless taking one of the proffered books and propping it against his knee. "No wonder your pack weighs a ton."
Brennan didn't respond, she was already engrossed in her task, and seeing the contemplative look on her face, Booth hastily turned his attention to thinking about his partner's positive traits. 'Gifted' was the first thing that sprang to mind, and he jotted it down accordingly. Brennan was formidable in her working environment, and it didn't take him long to come up with the words 'focussed,' 'incisive,' and 'judicious,' too. His partner was uber rational and unwilling to entertain conjecture, which often irked him, but in terms of their professional relationship, it meant that her evidence was always compelling. After a moment's deliberation, he wrote down 'meticulous' and 'irrefutable logic.' Bones was never going to be able to blend in with a crowd, but Booth knew her social skills had drastically improved since the beginning of their partnership. Tapping his pen against his lips pensively, he begrudgingly acknowledged that she was 'a quick study.'
He smiled as he inwardly considered Brennan's tenuous grasp of tact, and wrote down 'genuine – what you see is what you get,' quickly followed by, 'honest/trustworthy.' There was no denying that Bones had been through a lot in her lifetime; anyone else would have given up along time ago, but every time she was dealt a blow, she invariably bounced back. 'Resilient,' and 'strong-minded,' were the adjectives that came to mind. He realised, then, that a lot of the terms he'd used to describe his partner were work-oriented. Over the years, he'd had an unprecedented insight into the woman behind the mask of consummate professionalism and, strangely enough, the first word that sprang to mind was 'entertaining.' Her squint-speak occasionally sent him into a trance, but when you stripped away the jargon, his partner's quirks and burgeoning sense of humour were pretty comical. Booth had decided quite some time ago that Bones didn't smile nearly often enough, and there was no denying that he loved the sound of her laughter. He sent a surreptitious glance in his partner's direction, and was surprised to find her studying him intently.
"What are you thinking about, Bones?" he ventured, offering her a teasing grin. "All good things, I hope?"
"Well, isn't that the point of the exercise, Booth? I'm still in the process of summarising your desirable traits."
"As if fifteen words could even begin to do me justice," he kidded, and she rolled her eyes indulgently.
"Well, modesty certainly won't be amongst them, that's for sure."
Booth edged closer towards her, peeking sneakily at her worksheet. "Then why have you put that I'm 'humble,' then? Isn't that the same thing?"
"Booth!" Brennan protested, hugging her worksheet against her chest. "Stop cheating!"
"It's OK, Bones, I've got plenty of nice things to say about you, too," he reassured her with a quirked eyebrow and a disarming grin.
Brennan blushed, and looked away, and Booth smiled softly to himself, scoring the word 'beautiful,' onto his paper without even engaging his brain. He rounded off with 'independent,' and 'special,' but inwardly acknowledged that he could spend the entire duration of the journey thinking of superlatives to describe his partner, and it still wouldn't be long enough.
He chanced another fleeting glance in Bones' direction, and was dismayed to see her scribbling furiously in the right hand column of her page. Charming, he thought wryly, especially considering that she'd been markedly more sporadic about jotting down his positive qualities. Well, two could play that game.
'Argumentative,' 'stubborn,' 'patronising,' 'cocky,' 'unreasonable,' 'contradictory,' 'reckless with regard to her own safety,' 'sees things in black and white,' 'tactless,' 'socially naïve,' he wrote in quick succession, and then promptly reached a stumbling block. He wracked his brain for more options, but none seemed to be forthcoming.
He hated the fact that his partner was emotionally fragile, and cynical, and slow to trust. He didn't like the way she detached herself from a situation when she couldn't deal with its implications, either, or how much of a struggle it was for him to overcome her inherently introverted nature. But none of those things were Bones' fault, really; they were all part of an inbuilt defence mechanism that - if Booth was honest with himself - made her all the more intriguing. His partner was a tough nut to crack, but when she opened up to him or let her guard down; when she sought out his embrace or regarded him with eyes that were sparkling with warmth, Booth felt like he'd won the goddamn lottery. And he wasn't going to hold her accountable for doubting people's motives; hell, he'd probably do the same thing if he'd endured the blows that Bones had weathered with remarkable resoluteness. Heaving a sigh, Booth set his pen down. He was done, despite being five words short of his target.
Shortly thereafter, Jenny stood up again, clapping her hands together like a demented seal in a bid to gain their attention.
"Has everyone finished writing?" she asked, and a chorus of snide remarks ensued. "Great!" she exclaimed with contrived enthusiasm, aiming yet another glowing smile in their general direction. "OK, so here's what I want you to do now. We're going to reach our first rest stop in about forty-five minutes… "
"Thank fuck," Sergio mumbled, the first words he had uttered since boarding the bus.
" …Which gives us just enough time to finish up this task and make some headway with exercise number two," Jenny concluded. "Now, I know most of you aren't going to be very happy about this, but I'm going to ask you to temporarily relinquish your current places to sit besides your partners."
There was a collective groan that showed no signs of dwindling, so Jenny was forced to raise her voice several decibels. "Come on, guys, let's get moving," she urged, heaving an aggrieved sigh when Otis and Dean were the only two Agents to stand up.
The redhead's composure was quickly crumbling, and she started wringing her hands anxiously.
"Look, I don't want to play the bad guy here, but you should know that I've been instructed to compile a detailed report on your behaviour during this course, so if you don't do as I ask and persist in being un-cooperative, I'm afraid that Deputy-Director Cullen is going to hear about it," Jenny informed them, doing her best to sound assertive.
"Ah, so she's issuing us with ultimatums now," Bob observed, eliciting a grin from Jeff, the driver who he'd quickly befriended. "So much for team spirit, sweetheart. I thought you were supposed to be leading by example?"
"OK, that's enough!" Booth suddenly roared, realising that Jenny was on the verge of tears. "We're supposed to be professionals, not fucking kindergartners, so show a little respect and do as the lady says. Now."
Sergio gave him a curt nod, placing his Ipod in his pocket before moving to the front of the bus to sit with Dean Stubbs, and chaos ensued as everyone quickly followed suit, attempting to squeeze past each other en route to their respective partners.
"It's like musical chairs, but with expletives for the soundtrack," Booth noted, and Brennan started to laugh, somewhat taken aback by the array of colourful curses that were flying around the encumbered bus.
"That was a very nice thing, what you just did for Jenny," she observed, gently touching his forearm to convey her approval, and he shrugged nonchalantly.
"I just don't want these morons giving the FBI a bad name, that's all. And besides, Jenny's just a kid trying to make the world a better place. She doesn't deserve all this crap."
"I wholeheartedly concur," Brennan stated, briefly dragging her eyes away from the melee unfolding in front of them to meet his intense gaze.
"Good," Booth said, tapping his partner gently on the thigh, "So no more comments about her not being qualified to do things, OK? She knows she's out of her depth already."
"But I didn't mean to upset her," Brennan objected, looking genuinely concerned.
"I know, Bones." Booth reached out to touch her knee, and they shared a brief smile before he turned his attention to Otis, who was making his way towards the back of the bus to sit besides Teresa. "Hey man," he said, and Agent Lewis shot a warm grin in their direction.
"Hey yourself. How're you two bearing up back here?"
"We're fine, thank you," Brennan said politely, smiling genially at the friendly Agent.
"Glad to hear it, Dr Brennan," Otis replied with a wink, sinking down besides Teresa, who promptly elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow, what the fuck was that for?" he yelled, and Booth sought out his partner's gaze, rolling his eyes skyward.
Brennan laughed, feeling much more at ease now that Alex Johnson had reluctantly moved to the front of the bus to sit with Bob, mumbling something about how she 'didn't want his fat ass to get wedged between the seats.'
Once everyone was situated in their new positions, Jenny mustered the courage to address them all again. "OK, thanks for your support, everyone," she said, but this time her smile was focused solely on Booth and lacked its customary mega-wattage. "Now, I'm going to ask you to trade worksheets with your partners and discuss them between yourselves… in a reasonable manner," she hastened to add.
"Wait a minute, you never told us that our partners would get to see what we'd written," Dean objected, casting a panicked looked in Sergio's direction.
Booth cast his eyes worriedly over his worksheet, immediately honing in on one word in particular. 'Beautiful.' Shit, he thought, reaching for his pen, but Brennan snatched the paper out of his hands before he had the opportunity to substitute his distinctly personal observation for something more partner-like.
He opened his mouth to object, but Brennan thrust her own worksheet into his hands, and intrigue momentarily overrode his instinct for self-preservation. He scanned the paper eagerly, breaking into a slow smile.
'Sensitive, caring, insightful, amusing, loyal, noble, strong, diligent, intelligent, determined, dependable, reassuring, humble, a good father, charming.'
"Bones, I'm touched… I truly am," Booth murmured, only half-jokingly; placing his hand over his heart and feeling it skip a beat when he saw his partner's shocked expression.
"You think I'm beautiful, Booth?" Brennan whispered, and he swallowed prominently, desperately searching for a get out clause.
"Well, you think I'm charming," he countered lightly, and she slowly shook her head.
"But that's not the same. I wasn't making a comment about your personal appearance, I was merely trying to convey that you have a certain kind of… charisma."
"Oh," Booth said, in a spectacular display of eloquence. "Well… I just… um… I mean… yeah, I think you're beautiful, Bones. I have eyes… you know… that function," he stammered, nervously seeking out her gaze. "There were fourteen other words listed in that column," he reminded her, with something akin to desperation.
Brennan blushed, studying her hands. "Yes, I know, Booth. And I was very pleased with your assessment of my character," she added, almost shyly. "But why did you list 'gifted' and 'special' separately – aren't they synonymous?"
"Well… not really." Booth cleared his throat, playing with the buttons on his coat. "I meant that you were gifted in respect of your work and special… you know… as a person in general, regardless of the context."
Brennan's pink-tinged cheeks turned even redder, and she stared at her partner with her mouth slightly agape. "I… that's very nice, Booth. Thank you," she whispered, and Booth nodded, pulling the collar of his sweatshirt away from his neck because it was starting to feel too constrictive.
"You haven't read the second column yet," he reminded his partner amusedly, desperately trying to assuage the sudden awkwardness between them.
Booth lowered his gaze to gauge his partner's assessment of his less favourable traits, and after several moments, started to laugh out loud. "Argumentative, obstinate, condescending, arrogant, unreasonable, over-protective alpha male, prone to conjecture and making unsubstantiated hypotheses, underestimates my proficiency when it comes to handling firearms, won't let me drive," he read, highly amused that the initial part of Brennan's list was virtually a carbon copy of his own.
"Now that's just weird," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "We're supposed to be like chalk and cheese, Bones, but this makes us sound like two peas in a pod."
Brennan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand your analogies Booth. Why are you comparing us to food?"
Booth placed his worksheet on the seat between them, indicating for Brennan to do the same. "See?" he said, gesturing to their correlating answers. "For all our differences, we actually have a lot in common, too, Bones."
"But they're all negative traits," Brennan objected, torn between amusement and intrigue.
"Come on, you're the scientist, Bones. Don't two negatives make a positive?" he ventured, his eyes twinkling as he watched a sense of realisation dawn on his partner's attractive face.
"But… you can't apply a mathematical theory to interpersonal relations," Brennan said softly, although her tone lacked any real conviction.
"But don't you see, this is why we butt heads all the time, Bones," Booth reasoned persuasively, "Because we're both stubborn, and argumentative, and we won't give up until we've forced the other person to listen to our perspective."
"And because our initial standpoints are diametrically opposed, when we come to a consensus, we know we've found the right answer," Brennan concluded, and Booth grinned widely.
"Exactly," he said, starting to laugh. "Sweets would be so proud of us right now, Bones."
Brennan groaned, rolling her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile. "You know, that exercise wasn't as redundant as I'd anticipated," she admitted, obviously heedless to the fracas unfolding around her as the other partners traded insults and voiced their objections to the cruel jibes that littered their worksheets.
"Look at this one," Booth said, holding out another sheet of paper that was covered in speech bubbles, each of them containing a question. "This exercise is designed to help you get to know your partner on a more personal level, perhaps even with the possibility of finding some common ground," he read aloud, adopting a teacher's condescending tone. "Take turns picking a question to ask your partner, and be sure to really listen to their answers."He grinned in amusement. "I guess Sergio's Ipod isn't going to get much playback during this one, then."
Brennan snorted. "They think that discussing our favourite colours is going to enhance our working relationship?" she whispered derisively, her eyes rapidly scanning the options available. "OK, Booth…" she ventured after a moment's rumination, "What's your favourite movie, and why?"
"I guess…" Booth looked lost in thought for a moment, and Brennan was captivated by the emotions playing across his handsome features. "I guess I would have to say, 'Saving Private Ryan.'"
"I've never heard of it," Brennan admitted regretfully. She was struck by the way Booth's eyes suddenly seemed a little watery, and reached out to lightly brush his forearm. "What's it about?" she ventured softly.
"Well… it's directed by Stephen Spielberg… you know who Stephen Spielberg is, right, Bones?"
Brennan nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. I loved E.T. when I was a kid!" she exclaimed, and Booth's eyes widened to comical proportions, a large grin spreading across his features.
"Seriously, Bones? Because I would've thought that you were a little too rational for the whole 'alien from outer space' thing."
"Booth, I was approximately seven years old when the film was released," she reminded him, her tone laced with amused exasperation. "I was very advanced for my age, but I still had some sense of imagination. I… I cried when E.T. said goodbye to Elliott," she whispered conspiratorially, and Booth's grin grew impossibly wider.
"I wish I could've seen what you were like as a kid, Bones," he confessed, his eyes sparkling with affection.
"Well… I still have a handful of pictures that survived my time in the system," Brennan said quietly, her expression suddenly vulnerable. "Maybe I could… maybe I could show them to you sometime?" she concluded, almost shyly.
Booth smiled at her warmly when she furtively sought out his gaze. "Yeah. I'd like that, Bones."
"So… anyway… you were going to tell me about 'Saving Private Ryan,'" Brennan reminded him, and instantly regretted it when Booth's iridescent eyes promptly darkened.
"Yeah," he said, swallowing audibly. "It's… it's set during the Second World War and it centres around the story of six Rangers who are given the mission of finding a guy who's missing in action – Private Ryan," he clarified, and Brennan nodded attentively.
"Private Ryan has three other brothers who were all conscripted at the same time, but one of the Generals realises that all of them - bar Ryan himself - have been killed by enemy fire. He knows it's going to destroy their mother, so he wants Ryan brought back home ASAP to cushion the blow. Ryan ultimately survives, even though he refuses to leave his post, but…" Booth's voice cracked slightly, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down far more prominently in his throat, "most of the others don't make it. It's pretty brutal in places, you know? They really nailed the reality of what it's like to be in a combat zone," he admitted, his eyes shifting restlessly in conjunction with the memories that still haunted him. "I guess… I guess I can just relate to a lot of the stuff that they're going through," he concluded, bowing his head slightly.
"I'm sorry, Booth," Brennan murmured, reaching out to touch his forearm. "I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories for you."
"I know. It's OK," he reassured her, brushing her hand lightly and then promptly pulling back when he realised Jenny was staring at them contemplatively. "So I guess it's my turn now," he noted, hastily changing the subject. He studied his worksheet for a moment, and then offered Brennan a warm smile. "OK, Dr Brennan… what's your all-time favourite song - and why?" he probed, his tone mimicking that of an overly enthusiastic quizmaster.
Brennan tilted her head to the side thoughtfully, and then slowly began to break into a warm smile. "You should know," she said, regarding him intently.
"'Keep on Tryin'?" Booth hazarded a guess, and Brennan shook her head to refute his assumption. "OK then… something by Cat Power?"
"Third time lucky, Booth," Brennan said, quirking an eyebrow.
"You know I don't listen to that hip hop crap, Bones, and I can't think of anything else you would like… unless…" Something finally clicked, and Booth started to smile, too. "Hot Blooded?" he ventured hopefully, and Brennan ducked her head, nodding.
"Yes."
"But I thought that was just a guilty pleasure, Bones?" he teased, almost flirtatiously. Seeing his partner's genuine embarrassment, he decided to take pity on her, and whispered conspiratorially after a brief respite, "You know what? It's mine, too."
"Really?" Brennan asked, looking inordinately pleased.
"Absolutely," Booth assured her. "I really enjoyed that night, Bones… well, at least until your fridge made a valiant attempt to murder me," he deadpanned, offering his partner a wry grin. He studied her for a moment, inwardly debating with himself, and then decided to take a chance. "In fact, it was almost as much fun as seeing you belt out 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' that night at the Checker Box."
Brennan blanched, her eyes inadvertently settling on her partner's chest before she rapidly looked away.
"You know, I never got chance to tell you this Bones, but you really did sing it better than Cyndi Lauper. You were amazing up there; I couldn't take my eyes off you - none of us could," he enthused, silently willing her to meet his gaze.
"I know, Booth," she said quietly, her tone noticeably terse, "And that's why nobody noticed Pam Nunan's arrival. That's why nobody realised that she had a gun before it…" she inhaled sharply, "Before it was too late." She shook her head despairingly. "I hate that song," she concluded fiercely, her eyes welling with tears, "And I never should have let you convince me to get up there in the first place. It was stupid, exhibitionist behaviour, and it almost… it almost got you killed."
"And I would have died a happy man, Bones, because seeing you like that - despite everything that happened afterwards – it was one of the best moments of my life, OK? And one day, I'm going to drag you out to a karaoke bar, and I'm going to make you do it all over again - whether you like it or not - because I really want to finish hearing you sing that damn song, all right?"
His partner was completely silent, starting persistently out of the window, and Booth made a show of stretching as he moved closer towards her. Alex's seat had been vacated, so everyone was facing away from them, and he figured it was worth the risk to reach out and wipe away the tear that was streaking down his partner's cheek. She flinched slightly, and Booth's chest constricted when he detected her barely audible sniffle.
"What do you say we skip the rest of this exercise, Bones?" he whispered, and she nodded vehemently, unable to voice a response.
Booth sighed, shifting slightly to give his partner some space, and was shocked when Bones reached out to grasp his forearm in a vice-like grip, preventing him from moving more than a couple of feet away. Glancing around furtively at the other passengers, he gently prised Bones' fingers away from his arm, opting to clasp her hand instead. Ensuring there was a suitable gap between them, he threw his coat over their linked appendages so his feeble attempt at comfort wouldn't elicit any raised eyebrows, and then he tenderly squeezed Bones' clammy hand, tracing the bumps of her knuckles with his thumb. Several moments later, Brennan threaded her fingers through his own, lightly squeezing back.