"God, that woman grates on my nerves," Alex Johnson griped angrily, carefully reapplying her lip-gloss in the restroom's expansive mirror. "She's such a superior bitch. Did you guys hear some of the stuff she was saying to that Guide? 'Are you qualified to administer psychometric tests?'" she mimicked in a haughty tone, rolling her kohl-rimmed eyes. "I mean, who the fuck does she think she is?" she demanded, shaking her head reproachfully. "And I couldn't believe that she just stood up and announced to everyone that her father was a murderer. Is she completely oblivious to the fact that she's sitting with a bunch of Feds?"
Teresa snorted, leaning her lofty frame against the row of weathered sinks. "I think she's completely oblivious in general. I mean, Booth's a pretty funny guy, right? But every time he cracks a joke, it goes completely over her head. He has to explain everything to her like she's a little kid or something. It's painful to watch."
"Well, all I can say is that he must have the patience of a Saint, because there's no way in hell that I could put up with her. I never thought I'd say this, but Bob actually looks appealing in comparison."
Sandra frowned, looking thoughtful. "I thought Dr Brennan's old man ducked the murder charges?"
"Yeah - on a technicality. She probably fixed the evidence or something." Alex sighed, daubing a liberal amount of concealer over an invisible imperfection. "I don't know how Booth can stand dragging her around with him like he does. It's obvious he does most of the legwork, and it pisses me off that she gets so much credit for it." She studied her reflection attentively, admiring her handiwork with an appreciative smile. "I mean, OK, so she does her freaky bone thing and identifies the victim, but Booth's the one who has to do all of the investigative work. He deserves so much better than that."
"Oh really? And what do you have in mind, Alex? Because I think I can make an educated guess," Sandra said, somewhat sarcastically.
"Yeah, I'm getting the distinct impression that you think Booth should be partnered with someone more like… oh, I don't know… you, for example?" Teresa teased, jostling her friend lightly with her elbow.
Alex started to laugh. "Well, OK, yeah, I'm not gonna deny it… I'd be happy to teach Booth a thing or two and… you know… show him what it's like to have a partner who pulls her weight."
Teresa shook her head amusedly. "Yeah, all the way into the bedroom," she deadpanned, her smile gradually fading into a look of regret. "I hate to say it, Al, but I'm pretty sure that you're chasing after a lost cause there. Don't get me wrong, I think Booth's selling himself short, too, but that doesn't change the fact that he is head over heels in love with the woman."
"You think?" Sandra asked, sending a thoughtful look in her fellow Agent's direction.
"Oh God, yeah!" Teresa exclaimed. "You guys should have stuck around earlier, because you missed one hell of a show. I mean, Otis was ranting in my ear for the most part, but from what I could hear, it was like some corny romance flick back there. You won't believe what Booth put for one of her good points…" she taunted, quirking an eyebrow in Alex's direction.
"What?" Alex demanded, not making any effort to conceal her curiosity.
"That she was 'beautiful,'" Teresa revealed, with an air of triumph.
"Oh my God, seriously?" Alex looked immensely troubled by this particular piece of information. "So you think they're screwing or something?" she demanded after a moment's respite, her eyes gleaming with an indecipherable emotion.
Teresa shrugged. "I… I don't know. I don't think so, judging by her reaction. She was doing the whole blushing bride routine." Seeing her friend's puzzled expression, she affected a look of coy surprise, placing a hand over her heart. "'What me? Really?'" she mimicked, her alto voice an octave higher than usual.
"So you think that she's into him, too?" Alex probed, quirking an eyebrow. "I would've thought that she'd go for someone a little more high-brow; you know, some bearded professor with ten doctorates or something."
Sandra shrugged, drying her hands on a nearby towel. "Apparently not."
"Oh come on, Alex, you need to wake up and smell the coffee," Teresa said exasperatedly, "Because I'm telling you now, the way they look at each other sometimes… well, it's like watching a warped version of 'Romeo and Juliet' or something."
"Yeah, warped being the operative word," Alex retorted, with a sarcastic snort. "I mean, she's elbow deep in rotting corpses most of the time. Not exactly a turn on, is it? Booth's got to be a little sick in the head if he wants to tap that. I get the creeps just thinking about where her hands might have been."
"Come on, Alex, you have to admit that she's stunning. I certainly wouldn't mind looking like her, that much is for sure," Sandra conceded, her lips curving into a rueful smile.
"Yeah, well, you would say that," Alex retorted, oblivious to how cruel her remark had sounded.
"Alex, don't be such a fucking bitch," Teresa admonished, shooting an apologetic look in Sandra's direction.
Alex obligingly cultivated a contrite expression. "Sorry, Sandy, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
"Yeah, I know, you're just bitter because you're not the Belle of the Ball anymore," Sandra teased, but there was a noticeable edge to her tone.
"What, you seriously think that robotic bitch is prettier than I am?" Alex demanded, looking genuinely wounded, and Teresa punched her lightly on the arm.
"What are you, like sixteen?" she chided, rolling her eyes indulgently.
"Way to avoid answering the question, Teresa," Alex retorted, looking petulant for a moment, but then she gradually broke into a grin. "It doesn't matter, anyway, because she's never going to be able to keep up with us on this course, right? She might like to think that she can hold her own, but we all know that she's had a free ride so far. I bet she doesn't even know the basics." She sighed, shaking her head. "God, I would give anything to see her dragged through the training program at Quantico, she wouldn't know what hit her. I mean, can you even imagine her holding a gun?"
"Oh my God, Alex, I never told you this, but the Bureau won't let her have one!" Teresa exclaimed, starting to laugh. "Booth denied her application himself, after she went native and decided to confront a suspect on her own - without a warrant. She shot him in the leg after he'd just poured a bucketful of gasoline all over the floor, without giving him a warning or anything. And she'd been drinking." She saw her friend's disbelieving expression, and nodded vehemently. "I'm serious, Alex. She was lucky that she didn't get blown to smithereens and take all of the evidence with her in the process. Thank God Booth showed up to save her sorry ass."
Alex's hand flew to her mouth, and she shook her head in palpable disgust, her lips curling into a contemptuous sneer. "And Cullen still let her go out into the field after that? I mean, can you even believe the double standards?" She banged her fist against the rim of the sink in frustration. "I sure as hell know that if one of us had made a monumental fuck-up like that, we'd be out of a job, no questions asked."
"I know!" Teresa exclaimed, evidently sharing her outrage. "We all lost a lot of respect for Cullen after he decided to keep her on board." She shook her head despairingly. "I mean, he must've been out of his mind. Booth has taken so many hits for that woman, I swear, he's more like her personal friggin' bodyguard than her partner."
"Oh come on, Teresa, she's saved his ass on more than one occasion, too," Sandra reminded her pointedly. "I'm sorry, but there's just no way they'd be topping the departmental statistics if they didn't make a good team. She's obviously doing something right," she concluded, with an expression that was bordering on defiance.
"Oh yeah? Then how come Sweets sent them here, then?" Alex countered in an argumentative tone, folding her arms and staring at Sandra intently.
The older woman showed no signs of backing down. "Because Cullen said that attendance was compulsory for all of Dr Sweets' patients, that's why. He obviously assumes that if they're still in therapy, then they must have a dysfunctional relationship, even though anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see that they're well-matched. But we wouldn't want Dr Brennan to get preferential treatment now, would we?" she concluded, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Jesus Sandy, get off your high horse, would you?" Alex said, looking slightly taken aback by her friend's censure. "I don't give a damn why they're here, I'm just glad that Booth's finally got an opportunity to realise that the good Doctor is a complete liability outside of the lab." She smiled maliciously. "And, look, I know we're gonna be doing some pretty physical stuff, but I'm sure as hell not going to let Bob drag me down. Booth's about to realise the difference between a wannabe and the real deal."
"If you say so," Sandra said indifferently, heaving a sigh. "Anyway, I'm friggin' starving. Can we please stop the bitching and go grab some lunch?"
The stout Agent promptly stalked out of the restroom, and Alex glanced at Teresa, her cobalt eyes sparkling with spite. "So Sandy wants to eat?" she muttered, with a callous snort. "Now there's a surprise."
Teresa shook her head in a mixture of reproach and amusement. "Come on, let's get out of here." She held the door open for Alex, allowing it to slam shut behind her, and their footsteps quickly faded into the ruckus beyond the restroom door.
The persecution was finally over, and Brennan fumbled ineffectually with the dilapidated lock on her cubicle door, her hands shaking violently. Stumbling towards the mirror, she gripped the sink until her knuckles turned white, inwardly willing the trembling to subside. Curiosity had initially kept her rooted in place; but she couldn't fathom why she had allowed the unwarranted attack on her character to continue. Alex and Teresa's unsubstantiated conjecture had astounded her, so why hadn't she voiced her objections? She wasn't sixteen years old anymore; she had the capacity to defend herself, and yet she had cowered in that cubicle as though assertiveness was a foreign concept to her. Why? Those women didn't even know her; their opinion shouldn't have any bearing on her existence, and yet hearing them heartlessly questioning her capabilities had shaken her to the core. Perhaps it was because her suspicions had been confirmed. Alex and Teresa clearly regarded her as a liability, a burden that Booth felt compelled to shoulder. At least Sandra had spoken in her favour, but her comments clearly had no influence on the female Agents' embittered perspectives.
Is that how her partner's other colleagues perceived her, too? As a worthless, incompetent fool? Brennan blanched at the prospect, her jaw setting in anger. She gazed at her reflection fixedly, until the emotion welling in her eyes was forced to subside, and silently vowed to prove them wrong, just like their host of censorious predecessors. Several of her foster parents had told her that she would never amount to anything, but her indubitable success had forced them to acknowledge their erroneous assumptions. Her high school Science teachers had always resented her ability to correct their mistakes, but when Mr Harris had flatly informed her that she 'didn't have a hope in hell' of winning a prestigious scholarship to Northwestern University, she'd taken great pleasure in waving the letter of acceptance in his face. She was a fighter, and two hateful women weren't going to change that fact.
Brennan took several calming breaths until her heart regained its natural rhythm and, satisfied that her nonchalant expression wasn't betraying her inner turmoil, she washed and dried her hands, hastily exiting the restroom. Her eyes immediately settled on Booth, who was stood outside of a small convenience outlet, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for her to join him. She couldn't even bring herself to entertain the notion that what Teresa had said was true - even if she desperately wanted to believe it. Surely, if Booth had romantic feelings towards her, he would have acted on them by now?
Her partner seemed to sense the intensity of her gaze and promptly turned around to appraise her as she walked determinedly towards him. She bit her lip when she considered that she had been missing for over fifteen minutes and, even from this distance, Brennan could see Booth rolling his eyes in exasperation. Still, as she bathed in the warmth of his gaze and saw the welcoming smile that was tugging at his lips, the tension that was coursing through her seemed to subside a little. When Booth was around, it was so much easier to forget that her classmates - who had told her repeatedly that she was a freak who would never belong to the society that she studied so avidly in her Anthropology classes - had been right.
"Bones, wake up," Booth whispered, gently shaking his partner's shoulder.
The Anthropologist had been quiet ever since they stopped for lunch and, despite his heartfelt cajoling, Bones had barely touched her plate of vegetarian pasta. Booth was inwardly afraid that their earlier conversation had affected her more than he'd anticipated, but when he expressed his concern, Bones had fobbed him off with an excuse about the travelling making her groggy. Booth had hoped that she would open up to him once they were back on the bus, but Jenny had neglected to foist any more activities onto the unreceptive Agents, and most of them had opted to take a siesta for the remainder of the journey. Bones, too, had closed her eyes and rested her head against the window, making it clear that she wasn't in the mood for conversation.
Booth had quickly observed the awkward position of his partner's neck and, after a considerable amount of persuasion, had eventually convinced her to lie across the length of their seats, using his coat as a makeshift pillow. Unfortunately, that meant Bones' head was resting inches away from his lap, and it had taken all of his self-restraint not to reach out and smooth back her glossy auburn hair. His partner's sleep was fitful, and Bones' features never quite seemed to relax into an expression of repose. Her brow was furrowed slightly, and she had immediately jerked awake when he wrapped his arm firmly around her waist, realising that she was liable to roll off the seat when their driver negotiated a particularly sharp corner. One sheepish smile and a stammered explanation later, Bones had promptly dozed back off again.
Now, two bleary azure eyes were blinking up at him confusedly, and he couldn't resist breaking into a tender smile when he saw that one of his buttons had left a large imprint on his partner's cheek.
"It looks like the road's going to get a little bumpy soon," he said, just as their driver pulled onto a dirt track that was stippled with uneven terrain. "I don't want that genius brain of yours getting rattled around."
Brennan rolled her eyes, easing herself into a sitting position and regarding the scenery thoughtfully. They were headed towards a patch of dense forest, and the bus darkened considerably as the towering trees formed an impenetrable canopy, blocking out the muted grey sky.
"We're in Virginia," Booth informed her. "In Shenandoah Valley, I think." He wasn't about to confess that he had been more interested in studying his partner's countenance than the road signs that they had been whizzing past.
"It looks beautiful," Brennan observed, watching in amusement as a startled deer skittered away from its vantage point and into the undergrowth.
"See, it's just like I said, Bones. A free holiday," Booth teased, offering her a warm grin, which she fleetingly returned.
He couldn't help but notice that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, though, and a frown gradually worked its way across his features. "Bones, what's wrong?" he asked softly, and she glanced at him sharply.
"I'm fine, Booth. I just haven't woken up properly, yet, that's all."
"Are you sure? Because if what I said earlier - "
"Booth… please… I'm fine," Brennan reiterated, regarding him with something akin to exasperation. He stared at her intently for a moment, and then nodded, heaving a heartfelt sigh.
"OK, if anyone's still sleeping, then you need to wake up!" Jenny suddenly hollered, clapping her hands loudly. The sharp, staccato sound reverberated around the bus, and five sets of eyes promptly flew open, instantly narrowing into venomous glares.
"We're almost at our drop-off point," Jenny informed them excitedly, "And I want you to know that we don't believe in breaking people in easily around here." She smiled ruefully when her words were greeted with a deafening groan. "Yeah, that's never been a popular policy," she conceded wryly. "Now, as soon as we arrive, I'm going to hand out some maps. They'll provide you with comprehensive directions to our camp, and they're pretty much idiot-proof, so I promise you won't get lost in the wilderness somewhere."
"Hey, what are you trying to say?" Booth said lightly, offering her a teasing grin. "We're not all idiots, you know?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Jenny hastened to reassure him, her cheeks colouring slightly under his amused appraisal. She cleared her throat. "It's a five mile hike, which means you should have just enough time to get to camp and pitch your tents before it gets dark."
"Yeah, if we don't die of hypothermia first," Alex whined angrily. "I don't know if you've noticed, but it's fucking freezing out there. Or does your sunny disposition warm you from the inside out?"
Jenny, after spending ten minutes sobbing to her mother over the phone at lunchtime, had been given some good advice. Namely, to develop a backbone. "The information pack clearly stipulated that you should dress in deference to the cold weather, Agent Johnson. It's not my problem if you didn't heed its advice," she noted, trying to keep her tone even as she looked pointedly at Alex's lightweight jacket.
An expression of unbridled outrage crossed Alex's features, and for one horrifying moment, she looked poised to strike, but Sandra tossed a thick fleece in her direction, circumventing the attack. "Just put that on Al, and shut up."
Jenny smiled gratefully. "Now, Deputy-Director Cullen has assured me that you're all physically capable of completing the hike, and to spur you on, we're going to create a bit of healthy competition. The partners that cross the finish line first will get a little something as a reward but - because I know most of you aren't going to make the effort to walk together - there is, I'm afraid… a little catch," Jenny warned them, fumbling around in her backpack and emerging with several pairs of handcuffs.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Sergio Lorenzo muttered darkly, folding his arms defiantly.
"I'm afraid not," Jenny countered, with an apologetic shrug. "And I'm going to be keeping the keys, so… maybe you should consider being a little nicer to me," she concluded, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.
Booth laughed at the horror-struck expressions on his colleagues' faces, but when he turned to gauge his partner's reaction to the task, he was surprised to see her scrutinising everyone with the kind of meticulous attention she usually only reserved for work. "What's the squinty look for, Bones? Don't tell me you're sizing up the competition?"
To his surprise, his partner nodded. "Yes, that's precisely what I'm doing, Booth. It's hard to determine the extent of someone's physical fitness when their physique is hidden beneath so many layers of clothing, but Sergio and Dean appear to be in good health and they have a distinct advantage in terms of stride, too. They're much taller than me," she clarified, looking pensive. "Teresa and Otis could make formidable opponents, as well, but depending on their starting pace and their ability to co-operate with each other, I think we have a reasonable chance of success."
"Jeez, Bones, competitive much?" Booth teased, looking faintly bewildered.
Brennan looked distinctly unimpressed. "Would you please put on your hiking boots, Booth? We can't waste any time if we want to get a head start."
His partner's tone was noticeably terse, and Booth glanced at her in concern. "Bones, are you sure you're OK? Because you're not usually this… gung-ho… about things."
Bones didn't reply - she simply glared at him, seizing his bulky backpack from the floor and effortlessly tossing it in his direction. Booth held up his hands in surrender, wincing when the pack landed heavily on his lap.
"OK, OK, I get it. You're fine," he muttered, fumbling through the contents of his rucksack until he found his hiking boots.
A few moments later, the bus ground to an abrupt halt, and all of the passengers pitched forwards, peering at their picturesque surroundings with avid interest. A crystal-clear lake was visible through the thick foliage, its surface rippling turbulently in deference to the wind. Now the engine was no longer running, they could hear the potent breeze whistling through the trees' mostly barren branches, causing them to sway slightly in submission. There was, however, plenty of Evergreen vegetation, and the rustling of leaves was omnipresent. Accustomed to the dull greys and synthetic neon of city life, they were all entranced by the kaleidoscope of autumnal colours surrounding them. Everyone, that is, except Brennan.
"Come on, Booth, let's go," she urged, rapidly donning her winter woollies and pushing him forwards.
"Bones, it's not like we're being called to a crime scene. Nobody's going to contaminate the campsite before you get there," he teased, but his remark failed to elicit a smile.
"I want to stretch my legs; they're starting to cramp," Brennan lied smoothly, immediately feeling guilty when a look of concern crossed her partner's features.
"You should have told me," he admonished, ushering her towards the front of the bus just as the driver cranked open the doors.
The rush of frigid air was a shock to the system, and they both sucked in a breath as they adjusted to the cold, generating a fine mist of condensation when they exhaled. Without the looming skyscrapers and tower blocks to shelter them from the brisk wind, the crisp temperature seemed to have plummeted even further, and Booth found himself wondering about the likelihood of a ground frost tonight. Still, at least it wasn't raining, and he knew they would warm up considerably once they started moving.
Once all of the passengers had congregated outside, Jenny turned to face them. "OK everyone, we're on a public trail here and you'll be pleased to know that there's a restroom up ahead." She gestured to a brick building that was barely visible through the undergrowth. "It's a little primitive, but it serves its purpose, and I would strongly advise that you make use of it before I cuff you together… otherwise things could get a little… awkward."
She grinned at the cringing Agents, who promptly scattered in the direction of the weather-beaten facility.
"Don't be long, Booth," Brennan instructed him imperiously, and Booth snorted disbelievingly in response.
"Did I complain when you kept me waiting earlier?" he countered, quirking an eyebrow pointedly.
"You said you would've starved to death if I'd taken much longer," she reminded him absently, and he was struck by the faraway look in her eyes.
Despite being wary of pushing the issue, Booth was determined to get to the root of his partner's melancholy disposition, but the question died on his lips when a piercing shriek sounded from within the confines of the restroom.
They ran towards the bleak brick building in alarm, parting down the middle when a red-faced Alex came hurtling towards them, muttering something about her encounter with a spider 'that must've been on fucking steroids.'
"That's a logical impossibility," Brennan called after her retreating form, and Booth was surprised to hear her emit a snort of genuine laughter. He broke into a wide grin, feeling immeasurably pleased when Brennan readily smiled back. Now, that's more like it, he inwardly thought, touching his partner lightly on the arm before he made his way towards the restroom.
Five minutes later, everyone had reassembled outside of the stationary bus, stooping slightly under the weight of their respective backpacks. Jenny began distributing the maps, smiling quizzically at Mark Simmons when he laid a hand on her forearm.
"You know I said we should grab a drink together when all of this is over?" Mark ventured, and Jenny nodded enthusiastically. "Well, I take it back," he concluded, snatching the map out of her hands.
Jenny laughed nervously, and Sandra couldn't contain her sardonic smile.
"I'm sure she's going to cry herself to sleep tonight, Mark," she muttered sarcastically, and her partner whirled around to face her.
"Was I talking to you?"
They glared at each other defiantly, until Jenny intervened, waving a pair of handcuffs in their general direction. "Come on guys, this isn't going to be a very pleasant experience for you if you're at loggerheads already. Just try and be nice to each other, OK?"
Sandra laughed, and then to everyone's amusement, suddenly burst into song. "I'd like to build the world a home and furnish it with love. Grow apple trees and honey bees, and snow white turtle doves," she crooned sweetly, affecting a saccharine expression that bore an uncanny resemblance to Jenny's. Her choice of lyrics made everyone laugh uproariously, and their guffaws intensified when Sandra patted their Guide's forearm and enthused, "Come on Jenny, join in!"
Jenny blushed, and Mark shook his head despairingly. "You're a fucking nutter," he informed his partner wryly, but he, too, was smiling.
Seeing them sharing a rare moment of rapport – even if it was at her own expense - made Jenny beam from ear to ear, and she deftly unfastened the handcuffs. "Come on guys, put your wrists in," she urged, and they begrudgingly obliged. "That's not too tight, is it?" she inquired, tugging lightly on the stainless steel, and Sandra shook her head, heaving a resentful sigh.
Five minutes later, the redhead had managed to cajole most of the remaining Agents into being trussed together, but Alex was purposefully hanging back, keen to avoid the inevitable humiliation.
"Jenny, it can't be too long since Mommy was reading you bedtime stories," she said to the petite Guide, her tone dripping with scorn. "You remember Aesop's fables, right? Well this is the equivalent of the hare and the tortoise being tied together, OK?" She gestured to Bob's sagging midriff and then to her own toned physique, ignoring her partner's murderous expression.
"But in the story itself, the tortoise won the race because the hare was too complacent about its capabilities," Jenny countered, trying not to smile.
Bob sniggered, as did everyone else in their direct vicinity.
"Yeah, well, whatever," Alex countered petulantly, folding her arms. "There is no way I'm being cuffed to that lump of lard. We'll be out here all night."
"Then you'd better quit whinging and get your ass in gear, Johnson, because you're holding everyone else up," Otis hollered, staring at her intently until she finally backed down, allowing Jenny to cuff her to Bob and redefining the notion of stink eye in the process.
"OK everyone, there are a couple of checkpoints along the track and some of my colleagues will be waiting there with refreshments if you need them," Jenny assured them, breaking into a wide smile. "So… off you go!"
Booth yelped when Brennan tugged mercilessly on their restraints, virtually dragging him towards the start of the trail. "Jeez, Bones, I'd like to get out of this with my arm intact, if you don't mind," he said wryly, trotting after her and making a valiant effort to match her hurried pace.
Brennan was a swift walker; her long legs could tackle any terrain with ease and she had been known to leave men who were several inches taller than her trailing in her wake. Even Booth struggled to keep pace with her sometimes, and had at one point christened her Speedy Gonzales, before realising that the reference was totally lost on her. Of course, it hadn't helped that she'd laughed at him profusely when he'd started yelling "¡Ándale! ¡Ándale! ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba!" at her, completely unaware of the fact that he was effectively encouraging her to hurry up and walk even faster. Booth thought she had cultivated her hasty pace to ensure that she was always the first to arrive at a crime scene, before anyone could compromise the integrity of her remains. Brennan simply liked to think that she was a woman of purpose; ambling was for those who lacked direction.
Right now, her purpose was clear. She wanted to win this race, and she wasn't about to let her cumbersome backpack, the freezing weather, or her partner's grumbling hinder her progress.
"Bones, am I missing something here? Are we being chased by the four horsemen of the Apocalypse or something?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Booth," she ground out, clearly short of breath. She turned around, noticing that Otis and Teresa were rapidly gaining ground, and forced her legs to work a little harder. She could feel the lactic acid building up in her muscles already, but she refused to slow down in deference to the steep incline and focussed on controlling her breathing instead.
"Bones, I really think you're taking this a little too seriously," Booth wheezed, sucking in a ragged breath. "When Jenny said that the winning team would get a reward, I don't think she meant a Ferrari or anything."
"Booth, talking wastes energy," Brennan informed him sharply, refusing to entertain his attempts at humour.
"Yeah, well if you hadn't skipped lunch, you'd probably have a hell of a lot more energy to begin with, and you might be less grouchy, too."
"I'm not grouchy, Booth, I'm just focussed on the task at hand. That was supposed to be one of my good points, remember?" Brennan countered, in a rare display of sarcasm.
"Fine," he spat out, and she regarded him petulantly.
"Fine."
They were silent for several minutes, the cacophony of their huffing and puffing sporadically punctuating the air, until the sounds were abruptly swallowed by the bitterly cold wind.
"Booth, the handcuffs are starting to chafe. Hold my hand," Brennan suddenly demanded, and Booth stared at her in shock.
"What?"
"Your arms are much longer than mine, and we're both prone to swinging them when we walk, which creates a disparate momentum. The friction is causing my wrists to chafe. If you hold my hand… like this," she bent her elbow, encouraging her partner to do the same, "Then it'll solve the problem."
Booth grinned, obligingly clasping his partner's hand securely in his own. Science often eluded him, but he was willing to concede that sometimes, it was a wonderful thing. "You know, we're doing a lot of hand-holding lately, Bones. Does that mean we're going steady?" he teased, and his partner regarded him with a look of puzzled exasperation.
"I don't know what that means."
"Never mind, Bones." Like he'd ever have the nerve to elaborate.
Finally, they reached the top of the hill, and Booth gasped when he got his first glimpse of the panoramic view surrounding them. "Wow," he whispered, forcing Brennan to a standstill when he stopped to study the mountain range rising majestically in the distance. A river was raging beneath them, and Booth watched the water cascading over the precipice of a nickpoint in the rock, forming a breathtakingly beautiful waterfall.
"Booth, come on," Brennan urged, demonstrating just how strong she really was by forcibly wrenching him away from his vantage point.
"Bones, would you just slow down for one minute and take a look around? It's amazing out here." When his partner continued to tug persistently at his hand, Booth decided that a display of his own strength was in order and yanked her towards him abruptly. "OK, what the hell is wrong with you, Bones?" he demanded, his anger more than apparent. "You're cooped up inside that lab all day, surrounded by high tech equipment, and you can't even take a minute to appreciate nature? Hell, it's not like we get to do something like this everyday. It's got to beat staring at rotting corpses, right?"
His partner's hand fell away from his own, hanging limply by her side, and she gazed despondently into the distance, refusing to meet his gaze.
It didn't take long for Booth to swallow his anger, and he regarded Bones' defeated posture with concern. "Temperance, what's wrong?" he asked softly, making the most of their enforced proximity by forcing her to face him.
She was silent for several moments, and Booth sighed aggrievedly, perturbed that his partner was still intent on evading the question.
"They think I'm incompetent."
The words were almost inaudible, obscured by the wind, but Booth heard them regardless. He brought his free hand upwards, cupping his partner's chin and tilting her bowed head towards him. "Who?" he demanded, his eyes glinting with anger.
Brennan sucked in a shuddering breath. "I heard them… in the restroom earlier… they said that I was a liability… that I belonged inside the lab. They said that Cullen makes allowances for me… that if I'd been a real Agent, I would've been fired after our first case…" Brennan's eyes welled with tears, but she fought them back resiliently. "They said that you… that you deserve better… that having me tagging along all the time must be an inconvenience for you. They think that you're more like my personal bodyguard than my partner," she concluded angrily, her voice wavering with barely repressed emotion.
Booth's blood was boiling, but he willed his tone to remain light. "And you wanted to prove them wrong?" he ventured quietly, and Brennan nodded resignedly, ducking her head.
"Bones, look at me," Booth pleaded, seeking out her gaze, and his anger only intensified when he saw the poorly-disguised pain lurking in his partner's shimmering azure eyes. "I wouldn't trade you for anyone," he reassured her, tenderly grazing the length of her cheek with his thumb. "We work as a team, you know that as well as I do, and there's no 'tagging along' involved, OK? Hell, I'm the one who struggles to keep up with you most of the time."
Brennan attempted a smile, her expression brightening slightly. "So you don't think that… that I'm a burden?" she ventured, biting her lip, and Booth shook his head vehemently.
"God, no, Bones. You are most definitely an asset." He offered his partner a teasing grin, "I mean, OK, sometimes you're more of the 'ass' than the 'et,' -" he laughed when Bones punched him lightly on the arm, "But you proved your worth from the outset; don't doubt that for a second. Cullen doesn't need to make allowances for you, Bones - he knows he's fucking lucky to have you, and Alex and her cronies… they're just jealous, that's all." And I'm going to tear them apart when I get my hands on them, he inwardly added.
Brennan smiled, and then impulsively wrapped her free arm around her partner's waist in a fleeting hug, which was made even more awkward by the presence of his backpack. "Thank you, Booth," she whispered, turning around to admire the stunning landscape alongside her partner. Their shoulders brushed lightly, and she drew in a cleansing breath, finally taking the time to enjoy the moment and acknowledging that there was no one else who she would rather spend it with.
"You know, if Teresa and Otis stopped for refreshments, we could probably catch them up if we jogged for while," Booth suggested conversationally, and Brennan met his mischievous gaze with a hopeful smile.
"Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly, her brow furrowing with concern. "Because it would put a lot of strain on your back, Booth."
"Well… you can fix it, right?" he countered, grinning slyly. "Come on Bones, I know you're still itching to show them what you're made of. We left Alex in our dust a while back, but we've still got time to kick Teresa's sorry ass. I mean, no offence to Otis or anything." He turned towards her. "Here, grab my water bottle and take a swig, and then we'll get going."
Brennan obliged, downing a conservative amount of the liquid before handing the bottle to Booth, who tried desperately hard not to show how affected he was at the prospect of putting his mouth where his partner's had just been.
"Ready?" he asked, and she nodded, taking his hand with a smile that was almost as dazzling as the scenery surrounding them.
They broke into a brisk jog, hurtling down the hill until their legs threatened to give way beneath them, and hearing his partner's peals of uninhibited laughter, Booth broke into a colossal grin. It was the happiest he had been in a while; the trials and tribulations of everyday life faded into obscurity in the face of this exhilarating sense of freedom and, with Bones' delicate hand clasped firmly in his own and her beaming smile warming him from the inside out, it was all-too-easy to imagine that they were just an ordinary couple taking a winter walk… well, with the exception of the handcuffs.
They passed the first refreshment point without stopping and, after hiking for another mile, Booth glanced at the map and deduced that they were only about 1,700 yards away from camp. Unfortunately, they still hadn't encountered Otis and Teresa.
Two hundred metres later, Brennan nudged him in the ribs, pointing up ahead to the second refreshment point, where Otis was chatting animatedly with a grinning Guide, who was bundled up excessively to ward off the cold. Teresa was hanging back as far as her restraints would allow her to, looking desperately bored.
Booth ground to a halt, motioning for Brennan to be quiet, and then handed her the dwindling bottle of water. "How're you bearing up, GI Jane?" he teased, inwardly awed by his partner's stamina. Bones' lean physique was a testimony to her physical fitness, and Booth knew she looked after herself with karate classes and occasional trips to the gym, but he had never expected his partner to demonstrate this level of tenacity. Her pack was as heavy as his, and she hadn't whinged once, although he'd noticed her making subtle adjustments on a more frequent basis as the hike wore on.
"I'm fine," Brennan assured him softly, placing the water bottle back in the side panel of his rucksack. "It's actually quite invigorating, although – " Brennan trailed off abruptly as the sound of footfalls became audible behind them, and they both tried to whirl around simultaneously, the handcuffs pulling painfully at their limbs in the process. Sergio and Dean were only about a hundred metres behind them, and rapidly gaining ground.
"Shit," Booth said, and they promptly broke into a jog, managing to evade Teresa's detection for another fifty yards until she began urgently tugging on Otis' arm. "What do you say, Bones? Shall we go for a sprint finish?"
Brennan nodded determinedly, and they drastically increased their pace, running flat out until they were on the verge of overtaking the shocked Agents, who had been ambling ahead at a brisk, but comfortable pace.
"Come on Teresa, is that all you've got?" Booth hollered in the brunette's direction, seeing her visibly struggling with the weight of her pack as they hurtled past her. Otis shook his head despairingly, forced to break into a run when Teresa raced after Brennan like a bat out of hell.
"We're nearly there, Bones," Booth panted out through laboured breaths, aware that the other Agents were rapidly closing in on them. Otis had been the star of his high school track team, and Teresa was making a valiant effort to match his talent, her long legs eating up the space between them.
"Come on, Bones, we can do this," Booth muttered, using the last of his energy reserves to surge forward and propel his flagging partner alongside him.
"Booth…" Brennan gasped, holding on to her partner's hand for dear life, even though her burning, leaden legs felt like they were going to fold beneath her as they were forced to attain an unnatural velocity. It was sheer will alone that kept her from falling flat on her face, and she and Booth charged into the clearing where their camp was based seconds before Otis and Teresa, collapsing on top of each other in an undignified heap.
Booth grunted when his partner's weight impacted solidly with his heaving chest, but Brennan was so exhausted that she couldn't muster the energy required to roll away. Thankfully, Booth's backpack cushioned the blow, and they stared at each other for a moment, their faces inches apart as they fought to regain their breath. Booth placed an impulsive, victorious kiss on his partner's forehead, and then they started to wheeze with laughter, the vibrations rippling through their melded physiques and making them acutely aware of each other's proximity.
Otis' rich, booming guffaws echoed throughout the clearing, and he dragged a brooding Teresa towards the felled duo, offering his free hand to Brennan and hauling her effortlessly to her feet. Feeling the ensuing tug on his wrist, Booth was forced to quickly follow suit.
"That was one hell of a performance you put in back there, Dr Brennan," Otis enthused, clapping her lightly on the shoulder, and he couldn't help but observe how the Anthropologist's beaming smile completely transformed her countenance.
"Thank you," Brennan said with graceful aplomb, and Booth shot his fellow Agent a broad grin.
"You didn't do too badly yourself, my friend."
"Yeah, there's life in the old dog yet," Otis conceded with an easy grin. "It's just a pity that some of us are such sore losers," he muttered, tugging on his restraints in a bid to draw Teresa out of her funk. He rolled his eyes when she still refused to offer her congratulations, and turned to the former Ranger with a knowing smirk. "That's quite some partner you've got there, Agent Booth," he said pointedly, and Booth met his gaze warmly.
"Yeah," Booth readily agreed, offering Brennan a soft smile before levelling a cold stare in Teresa's direction. "She's the best."