The Night Before The Morning After…
Alex had shed a copious amount of tears in the restroom, and after being the obligatory shoulder to cry on, Teresa had been reluctant to relinquish her position in the tent she was sharing with her friend. However, Alex had reassured her that the most effective means of cheering her up would be to knock Brennan and Booth off the top of the leader board, and Teresa had obligingly sauntered over to Otis's tent in a bid to secure their three points. Dean was left with no choice but to vacate his lot, and he had trudged towards Sergio's sleeping quarters with an air of resignation, knowing that a night of strained silence - punctuated by the pounding bass of his partner's I-pod – awaited him.
It was a testimony to Alex's competitive streak that she had actually allowed a wary Bob to traverse the threshold of her tent, pointedly spraying her expensive perfume in his wake. She had positioned herself as far away from her partner's immense form as the confines of the tent would allow her to, and had actually managed to drift into a restless sleep… until she had been assailed by a blast of cold air, and the sounds of Bob relieving himself in the vicinity of their tent became disturbingly apparent. Alex had flicked on the torch so her partner was able to see the full extent of her disgust when he returned, but she had been rendered momentarily speechless by the repugnant sight of Bob fumbling to tuck himself back into his misshapen grey boxer shorts. The stomach-churning encounter had left her feeling nauseous and after regaining her composure, she hadn't wasted any time in expressing her distaste – at quite an impressive volume.
Bob had made a valiant effort to defend his honour by pointing out that he'd been chivalrous enough not to pee in a bottle within the confines of the tent itself. That assertion had been enough to send Alex over the edge, and Bob's forcible eviction had sent echoes of hysterical laughter reverberating around the clearing. Teresa had tried desperately hard not to join her partner in his guffaws of amusement, but Otis' mirth was contagious and she'd eventually succumbed to the inevitable.
Still, knowing that Alex would be in a foul mood if she didn't have the opportunity to air her grievances in front of a sympathetic audience, Teresa had eventually made to leave, but Otis had been surprisingly effective at cajoling her to stay. The short-haired brunette had to concede that her partner was a relatively unobtrusive bunkmate. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the chipmunk that had decided to use the roof of their tent as a playground.
Dean, meanwhile, had rapidly discovered that his partner's stoic reticence was prone to finding an outlet in his sleep. Sergio had attempted to instigate several inchoate conversations with him while in the throes of slumber, and Dean had been forced to stay awake in a bid to dodge his flailing limbs. Eventually, the need for self-preservation won out, and he'd gathered up his meagre belongings and requisitioned one of the empty tents.
The FBI prided itself on presenting well-groomed employees, but last night's histrionics had clearly taken their toll. The Agents sitting around the campfire were picking at their breakfasts in subdued silence, and their dishevelled demeanours were a far cry from the impeccable facade they usually projected. Formal dress pants and skirts had been traded for worn and wrinkled sweats; tailored shirts and blouses had been replaced with cumbersome fleeces and pullovers, and their previously coiffed hair was matted and unkempt. Sandra and Mark were the only partners who appeared none the worse for wear. Everyone else looked like they'd been on an unremitting stakeout.
Sandra levelled a smile in Brennan and Booth's direction as they joined the lethargic group around the campfire. "Morning," she said brightly, watching them sink onto a log besides each other with barely an inch of space between them.
"Morning," Booth replied politely, but a little coolly, surprised to see his partner smiling warmly at the older woman as she offered her own greeting.
"You two look remarkably well-rested," Sandra noted jovially, and she was visibly taken aback when Booth glanced at her sharply.
"Just what exactly are you insinuating, Sandy?" he asked, purposefully keeping his tone light, rather than accusatory.
"Booth!" Brennan hissed, jabbing him in the ribs before sending an apologetic smile in Sandra's direction. "I'm sorry, he's not really a morning person," she explained sheepishly, and Sandra nodded, shrugging slightly.
"Don't worry about it. I don't think anyone's fighting fit this morning."
"Bones, have you been reading those self-help books again?" Booth demanded under his breath, "Because I'm not sure if I like your new strategy for dealing with our resident coven. What are you trying to do now? Kill them with kindness?"
Brennan shook her head, realising his misunderstanding. "No, Booth. Sandra isn't like the others," she murmured. "She didn't participate when they were disparaging me yesterday, she spoke in my favour."
"Oh." Rapidly re-evaluating his assessment of the stout, but agreeable looking woman, Booth nudged her gently with his elbow. "You're looking pretty bright-eyed and bushy-tailed yourself," he observed, glancing in Mark's direction. "I take it Simmons decided to stay in his own sleeping quarters last night?"
Mark laughed, shaking his head. "No, we bonded over some custard creams and I gave her my last Rolo, so we're best-friends-forever now," he joked, slapping his partner companionably on the thigh. "The way to this woman's heart is most definitely though her stomach."
Sandra rolled her eyes, but given that Mark's tone was affectionate, rather than disdainful, she let the jibe slide. "Yeah, we've progressed to a dealer-junkie kind of relationship now," she deadpanned, and Booth snorted in amusement.
"So you've acknowledged that your partnership is one of mutual dependency?" Brennan ventured, her expression curious.
Sandra started to laugh. "Well, I wouldn't go that far."
"Yeah, I don't think that's really what she meant, Bones," Booth informed his partner wryly.
"God, Dr Brennan, please don't start with the psychobabble. We get enough of that from Sweets," Mark interposed, and Brennan regarded him confusedly.
"I don't place any credence in Psychology. I was merely pertaining to the logistics of supply and demand."
Mark looked utterly bewildered. "OK, then," he muttered, and Booth eyed him coldly.
"What's the matter, Simmons? Are we functioning on a plane that's a little too high for you?"
"You mean a higher plane, Booth?" Brennan corrected him, and Booth rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, Bones."
"What's with the whole 'Bones' thing, anyway?" Mark asked, and Booth sighed.
"It's pretty self-explanatory, Simmons."
"It's a sobriquet," Brennan informed him, and Booth turned to regard her in puzzlement.
"OK, you've got to stop with the big words, Bones. What the hell does that mean?" he demanded.
"A sobriquet is an affectionate nickname, Booth. I used to think you called me 'Bones' purely to antagonise me, but given that our relationship has progressed a great deal since then, I now presume that it's more akin to a… term of endearment," she concluded, looking faintly embarrassed.
Booth's lips quirked into a soft smile. "It is, Bones," he assured her, quickly realising that Sandra was watching their exchange with avid interest. "So, Bob made it safely through the night, then?" he remarked conversationally, quickly changing the subject.
Sandra snorted. "Barely. Don't tell me you slept through that ruckus?" When she saw Booth's baffled expression, Sandra shook her head in disbelief. "Well, you must have been well and truly out of it, then, because Alex was shrieking at the top of her God-given lungs."
Brennan leaned forwards, her face a picture of interest. "Why, what happened?"
Sandra started to laugh. "Bob got up to take a leak and let's just say his aim was a little too close for comfort. Alex accused him of pissing all over the side of the tent…"
"But I think she was more concerned about the eyeful she got when he crawled back into it again," Mark concluded, and they all started to laugh.
The young Agent was struck by the change in the Anthropologist's demeanour. His initial impression had been that she looked a little severe, but when she smiled, she was unequivocally stunning. He leant forwards, his expression attentive. "So, Dr Brennan, are you seeing anyone?"
"Oh God, you really don't have any shame, do you?" Sandra lamented, rolling her eyes and fighting to conceal her smile as she watched Booth edge possessively towards his partner.
Brennan glanced around the group, her expression flummoxed. "I imagine I'm seeing precisely the same people that you are, Agent Simmons."
Mark frowned, struggling to comprehend her supposedly abstruse statement. "What, so you're like… a lesbian or something?"
Brennan shook her head confusedly. "What? No. I have a friend who recently re-discovered her latent lesbian tendencies, but my proclivities have always been of a heterosexual nature."
"Bones, he's hitting on you," Booth hissed exasperatedly. "He wants to know if you're dating anyone."
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that your question was somewhat incongruous given the social context. No, I'm not seeing anyone, figuratively speaking." She glanced furtively at her partner who, for some inexplicable reason, looked angry.
"Really?" Mark inquired, his interest evidently piqued. "Maybe you and I could get a drink when this thing is over, then?"
Brennan looked faintly amused. "I thought that privilege had already been extended to Jenny? Or are you planning to proposition every female you happen to encounter along the way?"
Sandra started to laugh. "I think the good Doctor is trying to tell you that she's not interested in becoming another notch on your bedpost, Mark."
"Yep," Booth emphatically agreed.
"Oh well… your loss," Mark stated with forced geniality, and Brennan eyed him intently.
"I very much doubt it."
"Yeah, it's not like we're ever going to be on the same wavelength anyway, right?" Mark remarked offhandedly and Sandra, seeing the hurt that briefly registered on Brennan's features, glanced at her partner sharply.
"Idiots and geniuses don't tend to mix well," she informed him matter-of-factly, and he clutched his chest as though he had been mortally wounded.
"Fine, if that's how you feel, maybe I should go and sit with people who appreciate my wit and charm."
"Bye, then," Sandra retorted, laughing good-naturedly as she waved at her partner with exaggerated emphasis.
Mark stuck out his tongue, and then moved away from them to sit alongside Dean.
"Excuse me for a moment," Brennan murmured, sensing an opportune moment to take a trip to the restroom. She clambered to her feet, briefly setting her hand on her partner's shoulder, and Booth watched her progress for a moment before turning his attention to Sandra.
"I think I owe you an apology," he murmured, and she glanced at him quizzically.
"What, for this morning? Don't worry about it, Booth. God knows I'm like a bear with a sore head sometimes."
Booth snorted, but then shook his head sombrely. "No, I mean it, Sandy. I have my reservations about the company you keep, but I shouldn't tar you with the same brush," he informed her earnestly.
"Alex and Teresa… they're not so bad, once you get to know them," Sandra reasoned, shaking her head ruefully. "I mean, sure, they can be a handful sometimes, especially when they're bouncing off each other, but I try to stay on their good side for the sake of an easy life, you know? I don't want to give them a cause to sink their claws into me."
"But you stood up for my partner in the restroom yesterday," Booth noted, eyeing her intently. "That means a lot to me."
Sandra's expression was one of genuine consternation. "Oh my God, Booth. She was in there?" she gasped, shaking her head despairingly when Booth ducked his head in acknowledgement. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea." Sandra's eyes filled with sorrow as she mentally replayed the scathing conversation she had been party to. "Is she OK?" she demanded, and Booth hesitated, before nodding.
"I knew something was bothering her as soon as we sat down for lunch, but it took me hours to drag it out of her," he admitted, his eyes shining in the glare of the emerging sun. "She's made of tough stuff, Sandy, but she isn't made of stone. And if they drag her down like that again, I swear…" he trailed off, and Sandra laid a hand on his forearm.
"Look, if it's any consolation, I think Alex and Teresa really listened to what she said last night, and if that didn't change their perspective… well, then they're obviously not worth the effort, Booth." She nudged him companionably. "Besides, from what I've heard, that partner of yours is more than capable of handling herself."
Booth nodded, his eyes brimming with pride. "Yeah, she is. I just wish… that it didn't have to be so hard for her all the time, you know? She deserves better than that."
Sandra studied him attentively. "You really think the world of her, don't you?"
Booth snorted derisively, his expression suddenly guarded. "I've heard Alex and Teresa's little theory about that, too."
"Well, screw them, Booth, because whatever the hell it is that you two have, we all envy it. I'd give anything to click with Mark the way you click with her."
Booth started to laugh, imagining Sandra and Mark curled up within the confines of a double sleeping bag. "You seem to be getting along a hell of a lot better than you were yesterday," he noted, and Sandra shrugged nonchalantly.
"Yeah, but it doesn't come naturally. Now, when he opens his mouth, I just think 'shut up,' instead of actually saying it. You think that's progress?"
Booth shrugged, his laughter intensifying. "Well, it's a start."
Meandering her way back towards the clearing, Brennan observed her partner from a distance, quickly discerning his easy camaraderie with the other members of the group. Booth was an intensely private person, but he still had little difficultly integrating with a crowd. Sandra's hand was resting on his forearm and she was laughing profusely at something he'd said, and Otis Lewis was calling to him from the other side of the campfire in a good-natured tone. She wondered whether her presence was forcing Booth to the fringes of the group when he could feasibly be at its centre; whether her inability to understand the Agents' often colloquial vernacular was impeding his interaction with the others. It hadn't taken long for Mark to abandon his attempts at conversation with them, and even though Sandra had been kind enough to imply that it was because her intelligence quotient was markedly higher than the young Agent's, it still reinforced the notion that she was a separate entity, someone who didn't 'mix well' with the others.
Booth sent her a warm smile when she sank back down besides him, and she was acutely aware of the way his muscular thigh brushed lightly against her own. The knot in her stomach eased slightly as she acknowledged his welcoming demeanour, but she was somewhat surprised when Sandra turned to appraise her with an equally convivial expression.
"That speech you gave last night was amazing, Dr Brennan," the older woman informed her, feeling her heartstrings tug slightly when she realised the Anthropologist was cautiously searching her face for any signs of sarcasm. "I think what you do is fascinating. In fact, I'd love to read some of your books to get a better insight into how everything works at that lab of yours."
Brennan offered Sandra a tentative smile. "Thank you. While my novels are categorised as fiction - and I was persuaded by my editor to include some sensationalist elements - I do try to accurately portray the processes involved in crime-solving."
Sandra watched as Brennan's eyes roved fleetingly towards her partner, and she tapped the Anthropologist lightly on the knee to recapture her attention.
"He thinks a lot of you, you know?" she whispered, and Brennan gazed at her quizzically.
"How can you possibly know what Booth's thinking at any given time?" she whispered back. "Are you claiming to be clairvoyant?"
Sandra snorted, thankfully able to ascertain that Brennan wasn't being derogatory, she was just genuinely confused. "Nah, it doesn't take a mind reader to figure that one out, Dr Brennan. I just meant that he cares about you a lot, that's all."
"Oh." Brennan's cheeks turned slightly pink. "Booth is a very good partner," she announced, a little more loudly than she'd intended, and Booth started to laugh, looping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.
"Aw, thanks, Bones. Right back at ya."
Trying to avoid the group's wrath for as long as possible, the Guides neglected to tell the Agents the nature of their upcoming task. Still, their attempts to forestall the groans of dissent were rapidly vanquished when they revealed that they would be hiking for a couple of miles to get to their destination. The Agents were like the walking dead, trudging along in abject silence, and Brennan and Booth shot amused glances at each other as they moved ahead of the pack.
Alex increased her pace to intercept Simon, breaking her vow of silence in a bid to persuade the Guide to add at least one point to their tally, reasoning that she had made a valiant effort to tolerate Bob's presence before he ultimately pushed her to breaking point. She flirted to the best of her ability, but when Simon categorically refused to enhance her score, sardonically informing her that she was 'a real fucking martyr,' she fell back into step with Teresa, her face a picture of petulance.
"Booth, you're favouring your left leg in a manner that would suggest your sciatic nerve is suffering undue pressure. Is you back bothering you?" Brennan demanded, and Booth turned to regard her in amusement.
"Are you staring at my ass, Bones?"
"What? No! The sciatic nerve is the longest and widest singular nerve in the body," Brennan informed him, somewhat defensively. "The posterior region is just one of the many areas it serves. It runs from the lumbar plexus and sacral plexus to - "
"I get the picture, Bones," Booth interjected, smiling wryly, "And I'm aching in places that God never intended a man to ache, but I'm trying to walk it off, OK?"
"I told you we shouldn't have jogged down that hill yesterday."
"Well, if I remember rightly, you were pretty pleased with the outcome, Bones," Booth reminded her pointedly, his lips curving into a smile. "Besides, I'd probably be faring a lot better if you hadn't fallen on top of me!"
"You were propelling me along at a momentum that vastly exceeded my capabilities. It was inevitable that my equilibrium would be effected!"
"It was fun though, right?" Booth ventured, extending a hand to his partner to help her climb over a patch of uneven terrain. She pointedly ignored it, and he affected an expression of umbrage. "Oh come on, Bones, you just admitted that your balance is skewed."
"I did not! There were mitigating factors, if you bothered to listen." Her lips began to quirk at the corners. "But yes, I had a great deal of fun."
Their eyes locked, and they traded warm smiles, shifting their attention to Simon when he moved to the front of the group.
"OK, listen up, everyone!" The authoritative Guide hollered, placing his palms upwards in a stalling motion. Everyone ground to an abrupt halt, practically tripping over each other in the process. "We're going to take you off in pairs to tackle an assault course in a moment – "
"Oh, well, that's just great!" Alex exclaimed angrily. "Look, this isn't an exercise in team-building, it's an exercise in fucking humiliation, OK? I mean, you may as well just fail us now, because how the hell am I supposed to excel at anything when I'm working with someone who's about to collect their retirement fund?"
"Thank you for that self-pitying little outburst, Agent Johnson, it was very helpful," Simon informed her scathingly, "However, if you'd bothered to let me finish, I would've told you that this exercise isn't about fitness or stamina, it's about effective communication and resolving the issues that many of you seem to have when it comes to trusting your partners. Only one of you will be completing the assault course – but, as always, there's a kicker…" He paused to allow the suspense to accumulate. "The person in question will be blindfolded at the time, and your partner will be acting as your eyes," he concluded with aplomb.
"Surely that's a contravention of health and safety guidelines or something? I mean, what exactly does this assault course comprise of?" Otis demanded, and Simon regarded them all with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.
"Well, it would kind of defeat the object if I told you, right?" he replied blithely. "Don't worry, all of us are trained in administering first aid, and we've got an emergency recovery unit on speed dial, OK?"
"Yeah, because that makes us feel so much better," Sandra countered, rolling her eyes.
"Remember what I said, people? We try to foster a positive mental attitude around here. Don't knock it until you've tried it." Simon took a deep breath, surveying the group thoughtfully. "We've already determined which one of you will be kept in the dark, so to speak, and before you start picking apart our motives, you should know that our decisions were based purely upon who we think is the least trusting of the pair in question. So…" he announced, clapping his hands, "Who wants to go first?"
There was a resounding silence.
"Come on guys, either you choose, or I will."
Seeing that no one was willing to step up to the plate, Booth gently nudged his partner's shoulder. "What do you say, Bones? Shall we give it a shot?" He studied Brennan's expression worriedly; she looked a lot more perturbed by the task than he'd anticipated, but she nodded in agreement nevertheless.
They stepped forwards simultaneously, and Simon regarded them with a pathetically grateful expression.
"Great, thanks guys," he said sincerely, before turning to address the rest of the group. "OK, now, each team is going to start with ten points, but you stand to lose them pretty quickly if you don't follow the ground rules that I'm about to layout, so please listen carefully." He checked to ensure he had the Agents' undivided attention.
"The aim is to verbally guide your partner around the course. You're not allowed to touch or lead them in any way, unless they're in immediate danger. You'll lose points if you fail to tackle any of the obstacles, or if your partner stumbles or falls as a result of inadequate instructions. Now, I don't usually have to say this, but I think it would be prudent for me to mention that if, at any point, it looks like you're intentionally misleading your partner in the hope of causing them some form of embarrassment or injury, you will be disqualified and sent back to camp with a grand total of nil points. Capisce?"
"Booth, why is he speaking Italian?" Brennan whispered, and Booth started to laugh.
"It's just another movie reference, Bones, don't worry about it."
"Are you two ready?" Simon asked, and they nodded obligingly. "OK, Dr Brennan, if you'd like to step forwards then, please."
Brennan cast an apprehensive glance at her partner and her eyes widened slightly when Simon pulled an opaque black blindfold out of his knapsack. "Are you sure you've undertaken the requisite safety measures?" she asked the Guide, her tone inexplicably anxious. "And why do you assume that I'm less trusting than Booth? He's a private and solitary person, too."
"Bones, it's OK," Booth assured her, his hand automatically resting against the small of her back. "You know I'm not going to let anything happen to you, right?"
Brennan hesitated, her eyes flickering over the planes of her partner's concerned features as she slowly dipped her head in acquiescence.
Seeing that Simon was poised to place the blindfold over his partner's head, Booth placed a hand on his arm. "I'll do it," he said, taking the scrap of material from him. "Can you fix your ponytail a little lower, Bones?" he asked, his brow furrowing when he observed the faint tremors running through his partner's graceful fingers as she did so. "OK, close your eyes," he murmured, gently placing the fabric over Bones' eyes and knotting the fastenings securely behind her head. "Is that OK? It's not too tight?"
Brennan shook her head, swallowing prominently as she absorbed the disconcerting sensation of being plunged into unrelenting darkness. She felt her partner's hands rubbing her shoulders reassuringly, but she couldn't help but jump slightly when Simon's booming voice drowned out the murmurs of the crowd.
"The rest of you are going to have to stay here, I'm afraid. You can't watch until you've completed your own rotations, for obvious reasons, but once you're through to the other side, as long as you keep the heckling to a minimum, you're more than welcome to have a good laugh at everyone else's expense," he said wryly. "Now, this task will be timed, but I want everyone to take as long as they need. The partners with the fastest completion time will get a bonus point at the end, but it's what you do on the course itself that really counts. Obviously, the more points you retain, the greater your chance of winning." He clapped his hands again, and this time Brennan visibly flinched.
"I know you must be going through sensory overload, Bones, but I'm not going anywhere, OK? I'm right here," Booth murmured, his hands still firmly affixed to his partner's shoulders. She leant into his touch, barely perceptibly, and he tightened his grip a little.
"OK, you two, follow me," Simon urged. "Agent Booth, feel free to lead Dr Brennan until we get to the clearing where the course has been set up."
"Good luck, man," Otis called, and Booth sent a long-suffering grin in his direction.
"Yeah, thanks, Lewis." He laid his hand against the small of his partner's back, ushering her forwards. "Come on, Bones, it's mostly even ground up ahead. Just grab my arm if you feel unsteady, and I'll watch out for any potholes, OK?"
Brennan didn't reply, she merely nodded, her physique rigid with tension as she moved haltingly forwards. They shuffled along at a dilatory pace, and Booth was quick to notice that his partner's breathing was inexplicably shallow. Seeing Simon veering towards a sharp bend, he wrapped his arm securely around Bones' waist, tucking her against his side. "What's wrong?" he whispered, and though he wouldn't have thought it possible, Brennan stiffened still further.
"I'm sure everyone has an aversion to feeling helpless, Booth," she responded tersely.
"But you trust me, right? To take care of you?" Booth ventured, his tone laced with uncertainty.
Brennan heaved a ragged sigh, before briefly settling her head against her partner's shoulder. "Of course, I do. It doesn't mean to say I have to like it though," she informed him, her lips twisting into a grim smile.
"Oh."
Brennan felt the ripple of disappointment course through her partner's solid frame and quickly realised her mistake. "Booth, there is no way anybody could have coerced me into putting this on if you weren't here," she assured him, "But there were times in the past… before I knew you… when I… I…" she drew out a frustrated breath, shaking her head. "I just don't like having my control taken away from me, that's all."
Booth froze, forcing Brennan to a standstill. "Bones, there's something you're not telling me here, isn't there? I mean… did… did someone hurt you? Because we don't have to do this, you know? Not if it's going to make you feel uncomfortable." He reached for the blindfold, intending to remove it - needing to see her eyes, but as soon as Brennan felt his hand settle against her forehead, she reached out to grasp it tightly.
"It's OK," she assured him, oblivious to the myriad of conflicting emotions that were plaguing his troubled features. "I just – "
"Come on, guys, we're on a tight schedule here," Simon interjected impatiently, emerging from the dense foliage and beckoning Booth to hurry up. Booth hesitated, and Brennan aimed herself in the direction of the Guide's voice, knowing that her partner would follow her if she began to walk towards him.
Shortly thereafter, Booth's hand settled in the crook of her elbow, and Brennan forced herself to focus on her partner's comforting proximity as she was guided - without incident - towards the beginning of the assault course.
"OK, Agent Booth, you can let go of her now," Simon informed him, and Booth glanced around the assault course with a sense of trepidation. Some of the obstacles wouldn't have looked out of place at an army base, and he forced himself to swallow his apprehension in favour of mapping out the most practicable route around the apparatus. At least Jenny and Ross were poised to offer their assistance if required, and he nodded when they sent an encouraging wave in his direction.
"Right, let's get this show on the road," Simon announced cheerfully. "Dr Brennan, I'm going to spin you around a little now, so brace yourself, OK?" he added in a placating tone, and Booth had to bite back his protests when the Guide gripped his partner's shoulders and rotated Brennan 360 degrees several times over.
"Jenny you can start the stopwatch…. now!" Simon hollered, promptly releasing Brennan from his grasp. Booth instinctively reached out to steady her when she lurched to the side, and Simon started to laugh uproariously.
"One point down already, Agent Booth," the Guide informed him ruefully.
"What?" Booth demanded, his tone outraged, "But – "
"No touching, Agent Booth, unless they're in immediate danger, remember? A little dizziness doesn't count, I'm afraid."
"Yeah, but – "
"Booth! You're wasting time," Brennan snapped, extending an arm with the intention of nudging him pointedly, and then clearly thinking better of it. "Just tell me what I've got to do."
"OK, well you're facing the wrong way for a start, Bones. You're going to have to pivot 180 degrees first."
Brennan obliged, and Booth eyed the initial obstacle warily. "Now, sidestep about a foot to your right and then take eight paces forwards," he instructed, pleased with his estimation when Brennan's strides brought her parallel with the netting that was raised a foot or so above the leafy ground.
"That's the ticket, Bones," he praised, pleased to see his partner visibly relaxing as she applied all of her focus to the task at hand. "Now, directly in front of you, there's a piece of netting that's not far from the floor, so you're going to have to lie flat on your stomach, keep your head down and use your elbows to propel yourself forwards, OK?"
"Like this?" Brennan asked, wincing as she pressed her lithe form flush against the freezing cold ground, feeling the lingering frost seeping through her insulated sweatpants as she shuffled forwards.
"Yep, you're doing great." Booth grinned as he watched his partner effortlessly following his directions, shimmying under the net like a true pro. "You've only got another couple of feet to go, Bones. Just make sure you don't get tangled up at the end there."
Brennan groped above her head until she felt nothing but thin air, and then hauled herself to her feet again.
"You OK?" Booth asked, his tone brimming with a mixture of affection and concern, and Brennan levelled a reassuring smile in his general direction.
"I'm fine, Booth. What's next?"
"OK, there's a big cargo net that's got to be at least 25 feet high - you know, the ones that are arranged in a triangular shape, where you go up one side and down the other?"
Brennan nodded, indicating that she understood.
"If you sidestep about five paces to the right and then walk forwards about ten, you should be able to reach out and touch it."
Brennan complied, keeping her arms outstretched.
Booth started to laugh. "You look like an extra from Night of the Living Dead, Bones."
"I don't think that really holds any relevance right now, Booth."
Duly chastised, Booth attempted to regain his composure. "You're almost there Bones, just another couple of inches. Don't walk face first into it, whatever you do."
Brennan finally grasped the abrasive rope in her right hand, and then promptly fumbled for a higher handhold.
"The rungs are about half a foot apart, spaced evenly," Booth informed her, his tone becoming markedly more serious as he watched his partner extend her lower leg until she found a foothold. "Just please… be careful, Bones, OK? It's pretty high."
Jenny and Ross were on hand acting as pseudo spotters, but Booth stood at the base of the net regardless, ready to spring into action if Brennan required assistance. He leant his weight against the imposing structure in an attempt to stop the net from swaying too violently in the breeze, and his eyes avidly followed his partner's… progress.
"You're going to hit the wood at the top in a second, Bones, and then you're going to have to straddle it and swing yourself over to the other side."
Brennan nodded, her stomach churning as she subliminally acknowledged how far away she was from the solid ground. Depending on her trajectory, if she fell, her injuries would be severe - if not life threatening. The breeze was rushing through her ears and billowing against her cheeks, causing the net to rustle disconcertingly beneath her hands, but she clung fast, and fought to control her erratic breathing. Her heart skipped a beat when she reached for the next rung, only to find her hand flailing against icy air. She brought it downwards until it connected somewhat jarringly with the beam of wood looming above her and then she bit her lip, suddenly tentative. "Booth…" she called uncertainly, and he turned to regard the Guides imploringly.
"It's not breaking the rules if I get up there with her, right? Not if I don't touch her?"
Jenny shook her head. "No, Agent Booth, that's fine."
"Just hang on for a second, Bones, I'm coming up." Booth wasted little time in negotiating the cargo net and within a matter of seconds, he was parallel with his partner. Seeing her barely-concealed distress, he leant forwards, his lips resting inches away from her ear. "Hey, it's OK. I'm right here Bones," he murmured, utilising every ounce of his willpower not to reach out and wrap an arm around her waist. "You're doing great," he assured her, and her lips curved into a barely perceptible smile.
"How wide is the beam, Booth?"
"It's a little under a foot. If you climb up a couple more rungs, you'll be able to get a better grip on it."
Brennan obliged, wrapping her arms securely around the weathered wood and leaning the top half of her torso firmly against it.
"That's it, Bones. Now, leave your right leg anchored in the rung, and then swing your left leg up and over. Ross and Jenny are down there, but I'm not going to let you fall, I promise."
Brennan nodded, suddenly feeling foolish. "I'm finding this task somewhat demeaning," she murmured despairingly, and Booth was relieved that she couldn't see the grin that suddenly graced his features.
"Well… I'm kind of enjoying bossing you around for a change," he joked, and Brennan's taut features gradually relaxed into a smile.
"Don't get used to it, Booth," she asserted, manoeuvring herself over the A-frame with effortless grace, almost as if to prove a point.
Booth grinned. "That's my girl," he murmured, watching Brennan making quick work of her dismount.
"You're almost at the bottom Bones, so slow down or else you're going to jar yourself when your leg hits the floor," he warned.
For once in her life, Brennan heeded his advice, and Booth smiled as he hastily navigated the wood beam himself, inwardly acknowledging that it was one lucky, lucky tree to have had his partner sitting astride it.
"OK, onwards and upwards, Bones. Sidestep six paces to the left, then move forward twel – STOP," he yelled, as Brennan teetered on the precipice of a man-made trench that was filled with water.
Brennan abruptly ground to a halt, instinctively shifting backwards, and Booth heaved a sigh of relief.
"OK, Bones, in front of you there's a dugout that's around fifteen feet long, and five feet wide," Booth informed her. "It looks like it's pretty deep, too, so we're gonna try and make sure you don't fall in the water, OK? I don't want you getting hypothermia."
"That would be preferable, Booth."
"Hey, don't get snarky with me, Bone Lady, or else you're gonna wind up taking a swim," Booth teased, and Brennan started to laugh.
"You're actually very good at this, Booth," she remarked, her tone taking on that rare quality of admiration.
"So that means next time we're driving to a crime scene, you won't feel the need to question my route, right?"
"That's hardly a comparable situation, Booth!" Brennan objected, and Booth snorted derisively.
"Face it, Bones, you just admitted that I have a good sense of direction."
"No, Booth, I said that you were good at providing directions - which isn't hard, given the fact that you can see the obstacles right in front of you."
"Well, why did you compliment me in the first place, then, if it's so damn easy?"
"I didn't say it was easy."
"You said it 'wasn't hard!'"
"But that doesn't automatically imply that it's easy; not if there's a spectrum of difficulty and it's a subjective concept anyway."
"Guys, you've been on the course for exactly fifteen minutes now," Ross shouted over to them, and Booth started to laugh.
"I think that was a not-so-subtle hint, Bones. He obviously thinks you're being unreasonable," Booth teased, poking his partner lightly in the ribs. Brennan clearly wasn't anticipating the assault, and jumped slightly, losing her footing on the peaty ground surrounding the trench until Booth reached out to steady her.
"That's another penalty point, guys," Ross informed them, and Brennan heaved an aggrieved sigh.
"Now look what you've done! You need to stop touching me, Booth."
"And you need to stop distracting me," Booth retorted, forcing his grin to subside. "OK, we've got some stepping stones to start off with, and they're not going to be easy to get across because there's no rhyme or reason to their pattern."
"Great," Brennan muttered, folding her arms.
"Hey, I'm not the one who chose to put you in a blindfold, remember?" Booth reminded her wryly. "Now, take one step to your right… good. Now, stay exactly where you are, and extend your left leg about a foot ahead of you."
"I won't be staying exactly where I am if I do that, Booth, will I?"
"Just stop being pedantic, and do it, Bones."
Brennan obliged, her left foot landing squarely on the first stepping-stone.
"It's only small, so make sure you keep your feet together when you transfer your weight."
Brennan heeded his advice, and quickly regained her balance.
"OK, now you need to turn about 45 degrees to your right and take the biggest stride you can, Bones, because it's a big gap."
This time, Brennan teetered precariously on the outer rim of the next stepping-stone, but under Booth's exemplary tutelage, she managed to stay on dry land and make her way safely towards the slab of concrete that marked the halfway point.
"OK, Bones, there's a rope directly in front of you… you got it? Yeah, that's it," Booth informed her, his brow furrowing as he examined the logistics of the next obstacle. "There's another slab of concrete about seven feet in front of you, and I know I'm not the resident physicist around here, but I reckon you're going to have to get quite a lot of momentum behind your swing to make it across."
"OK," Brennan said, squaring her shoulders and sucking in a resilient breath.
"And Bones, when I say jump, you – "
"Say how high?"
Booth started to laugh. "No, babe, you just… jump, OK? Don't question my judgement."
"Babe?" Brennan echoed, her tone a mixture of surprise and reproach.
"It was just a slip of the tongue, OK, Bones?" Booth was glad his partner was unable to discern the extent of his embarrassment.
"A slip of the tongue - or a Freudian slip?" Brennan teased, and Booth shook his head despairingly.
"Now you're just talking in riddles."
Brennan sighed, stretching the rope until it was positioned tautly between her legs at a forty-five degree angle. She edged backwards to gain as much leverage as possible and then bent her knees, swinging forwards as forcefully as she could. Her breath caught in her throat as she hurtled into the unknown, relying on her partner to illuminate her surroundings, and when Booth told her to jump, she promptly released the rope, hitting the ground with an impact that jarred her joints.
"Are you OK?" Booth demanded, rushing towards her.
She started to laugh, feeling strangely exhilarated. "I'm fine."
Booth breathed another audible sigh of relief. "We're nearly there, now, Bones, and the worst of it's over. There's a balancing beam about eight paces to the left of you. It's about eighteen feet long, and mounted on a bunch of barrels that have been roped together, so when you get to the middle, it's going to tilt, OK?"
"How wide is it?"
"It's pretty narrow, but you're feet are small so you should be able to walk across it without much difficulty, as long as you stay in a straight line. Are you ready?" he asked softly, and Brennan nodded with renewed enthusiasm.
"You're starting on an incline of about 35 degrees, and then it gets gradually steeper. Just take your time, Bones."
Brennan pursed her lips, concentrating solely on retaining her equilibrium as she edged her way along the beam. Booth's sporadic words of encouragement bolstered her confidence, and soon she was at the top of the incline. Beads of sweat were dripping down her back, and she hastily unzipped her coat, tossing it aside.
"It's going to tip over when you take another step forwards, Bones, so just brace yourself and ride it out, OK?" Booth instructed her, and she nodded, keeping her legs akimbo and bending her knees as she slowly inched forwards.
Booth watched with pride as his partner weathered the sudden change in incline with aplomb, but then his gaze centred on the gleaming patch of frost that had yet to thaw in the tepid morning sunshine, and he realised with a sense of horror that he was too late to warn his partner about the impending hazard. He darted forwards just as Bones' legs slipped from beneath her on the downhill route, catching her awkwardly in his arms as she came careering off the side of the beam. Her gasp of surprise entwined with his grunt of exertion, and he hastily adjusted his grip before lifting her to safety, cradling her tightly against his chest.
"It's OK, I've got you," he murmured, and Brennan dropped her head to his shoulder, feeling how fast his heart was pounding before he set her gently on the ground. Booth's unexpected proximity overwhelmed her remaining senses and suddenly she was acutely aware of his warm breath, his intoxicating cologne, and the unyielding sturdiness of his physique, which was still pressed protectively against her. She clung to him for a little longer than necessary under the guise of regaining her balance, and then Ross' concerned voice cut through the haze of sensation.
"Dr Brennan, are you OK?"
"No, she's not OK, she could have broken her goddamn neck!" Booth interjected, his ire easily penetrating the boundaries of Brennan's blindfold. "What I want to know is why the hell you didn't check the equipment for ice before you let us loose on it? I mean, you knew what the weather conditions were like last night! What kind of negligent morons are you?"
"I'm… I'm really sorry Agent Booth, but we did check. We poured boiling water over everything an hour or so before we started."
"Booth, it's fine," Brennan assured him. "It was near freezing point this morning, the air was still saturated and the water vapour probably crystallised to form a new patch of frost."
"Does that mean I should stop yelling at him?" Booth asked, and Brennan nodded, her lips quirking slightly.
"Yes. Booth, I'm fine, really. Can we just finish the course now?"
Booth sent an intimidating glare in Ross' direction. "I take it you aren't going to be deducting any points for that little episode? Or does Bones have to split her skull open before I'm allowed to touch her?"
Ross shook his head vehemently. "No, of course not, Agent Booth." He sent a tentative smile in Booth's direction. "That was a nice save, by the way."
"Yeah, well you'd better hope I don't have to do it again, kid, all right?"
"Booth! Leave the boy alone," Brennan commanded, and Booth looked suitably castigated.
"OK, Bones," he relented, heaving a laboured sigh. "Let's get this over with."
Ten minutes later, Booth was deftly untying his partner's blindfold and helping her to don her discarded jacket. Brennan sucked in a cleansing breath as the fabric fell away from her face and she finally emerged from the void of darkness. She angled her head towards the muted sun and scrunched her eyes up against its comparative glare, a contented smile gracing her features.
"Squint," Booth teased, and Brennan regarded him with an uncomprehending expression until he mimicked her stance, narrowing his eyes exaggeratedly.
"Very funny, Booth," she muttered sarcastically.
Booth shrugged sheepishly. "It's just nice to see those baby blues again, that's all."
Brennan regarded him absorbedly for a moment, and then smiled softly. "It's nice to see you again, too, Booth."
"So…" Booth ventured, clearing his throat, "Do you want to watch the others braving the seven layers of hell, or should we check out the waterfall that Jenny mentioned?"
Brennan looked thoughtful for a moment. "Having been deprived of my sight for so long, I'd like to focus it on something aesthetically pleasing."
"Well, look no further, Bones," Booth joked, presenting himself for her appraisal.
Brennan laughed, shaking her head in amusement. "You may be a fine specimen of a man, Booth, but I don't think you can compete with Mother Nature."
Booth smiled happily to himself at his partner's backhanded compliment and walked alongside her in companionable silence until they reached the vantage point Jenny had described.
"Wow," he murmured, the sound lost amidst the deafening roar of the waterfall that was cascading over the serrated precipice beneath them.
"She was right, it's beautiful," Brennan enthused, leaning over the railing to enhance her view. "Look at the rainbows, Booth."
"Hey, be careful." Booth looped his arm around his partner's waist as Brennan continued to stand on her tiptoes to survey the captivating landscape. She glanced at him sharply for a moment, but then accepted the gesture without comment, leaning towards him slightly.
"I'm just trying to keep you safe, Bones, that's all," he murmured, his lips lightly brushing her hair.
"I don't need a babysitter, Booth."
"But I did a pretty good job of looking out for you today, right?"
"You did," she conceded, turning to appraise him with luminescent eyes. "Thank you."
Booth studied her attentively, before ducking his head. "You don't ever have to thank me, Bones."
"Because it's all part of the job description, right?" she asked quietly, her eyes trained intently on his features.
"No," he said, his lips twitching as he leaned a little closer, "Because I have a vested interest in your well-being."
Brennan was silent for a moment, and turned to gaze contemplatively into the distance. "Do you remember Jose Vargas, Booth?"
Booth glanced at her sharply, but then nodded his assent. "Of course I do, Bones. I remember what you did for his family, too," he noted warmly. "That went above and beyond the call of duty."
"But you were mad at me, remember, because I refused to coerce his wife into revealing his whereabouts? Because I refused to threaten her with deportation and tell her that we were going to take her baby away from her if she didn't co-operate?"
Booth flinched slightly. "I was frustrated with the circumstances, Bones, because we'd hit a brick wall, but I wasn't mad at you. How could I be?" He offered her a tender smile. "It was the one of the first times I saw you using your heart instead of your head. Hell, I would've been proud if you hadn't been jeopardising my investigation."
Brennan's lips curved into a rueful half smile, but her eyes were swirling with underlying torment.
"Temperance, what are you trying to tell me?" Booth murmured, tugging lightly on his partner's arm until she gradually turned to face him.
Brennan sucked in a deep breath. "The reason why I had so much… empathy for Jose and his family was because I'd had some… personal experience… with El-Salvadorian Death Squads." She studied her partner's features covertly, and saw his jaw clench spasmodically. She cleared her throat, forcing her tone to remain calm, even as her partner's eyes darkened with outrage.
"That was also the reason why I behaved… somewhat recklessly… when I encountered the leader of the Mara Muerte gang. I abhor men who use intimidation and violence to bolster their position in society, Booth; men who'll do anything to ensure that their totalitarian regime isn't overthrown."
Her voice was brimming with passion, and Booth reached out to gently clasp her forearm, trying to rein in his anger. "What happened, Bones?"
Brennan began to play with the buttons on her coat, her fingers trembling barely perceptibly. "I was in El-Salvador identifying the remains of a young girl who had been shot and thrown into the bottom of a well. It became apparent that she was a victim of a gang war and my findings would have implicated several prominent members of the opposition. They wanted to ensure that my evidence never came to light."
"But let me guess, you wouldn't give up, right?" Booth asked, his hoarse tone laced with fear and something that sounded almost akin to pride.
Brennan nodded. "I was abducted by three members of a Death Squad. They put a black bag over my head and frogmarched me through the jungle to a holding cell. I couldn't see anything, Booth, I could barely breathe."
"So the blindfold…"
"Yes." She nodded, her expression becoming marred by self-deprecation. "It's stupid, right?"
"No," Booth stated firmly. "It's not stupid, Bones. You… you should have told me."
"I'm telling you now," Brennan reminded him, a little defensively.
"I know. Hey, I know." His grip on her forearm tightened as he gave the appendage a reassuring squeeze. "Bones… what did they… I mean… they must've hurt you, right?"
"It was three days," Brennan whispered, turning to face her partner with eyes that were shimmering with tears and taunted by memories past, "But it felt like an eternity. I thought I was going to die."
"Oh God, Bones." Booth's voice was hoarse as he hastily gathered his partner into his arms. He couldn't bring himself to ask for the specifics of what Brennan had endured, not when he knew it would make her pain more tangible; not when he knew he might not be able to handle her revelations. "Never again," he vowed instead, his voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion. "Never again."
Brennan sank into her partner's embrace, burying her head in the crook of his shoulder and looping her arms tightly around his waist. Booth was always so warm, and as his hand slipped below the hem of her coat to trace reassuring circles against the small of her back, she realised that his touch had the extraordinary ability to be both invigorating and soothing. She felt like she fit here, somehow, like she had found her sanctuary, wrapped in a balmy blanket of safety, and security… and something that made her heart beat at a rhythm that wasn't remotely congruent with the gentle rocking motion her partner had instigated.
"It felt good to kick his ass, though," she murmured after several minutes of comfortable silence, and she felt her partner's physique begin to shake with laughter beneath her.
"The leader of Mara Muerte, you mean? Ramon Ortez?" he asked, and she nodded, her hair brushing against his cheek in the process.
"Yeah, Bones. It did," Booth agreed, his tone emphatic.
Brennan leaned back slightly to study her partner's features, her own expression laced with confusion. "But you didn't… what did you do, Booth?" she demanded, her lips quirking as she observed her partner's rueful countenance.
"Like I said, Bones, I have a vested interest in your well-being. I always have," Booth murmured, placing his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss, "And I always will."
Brennan's cheeks turned pink, and a dazzling smile graced her features as she imitated her partner's phrase from earlier on that morning. "Right back at ya, Booth."
"No," Booth said, shaking his head violently as he broke into peals of laughter, "You don't get to use jargon like that, Bones."
Brennan regarded him with eyes that were shining with amusement. "What? Why not?"
"Because… it's just not right."
"OK, well, then, I vehemently concur with your sentiment. Is that better?"
They both dissolved into laughter, their eyes remaining interlocked in mutual affection until Brennan edged forwards, resting her head against her partner's shoulder again. Booth readily tightened his grip around her, brushing his lips lightly against her temple in the process, and even though her body suddenly felt suffused with heat, Brennan shivered fiercely in response.
"Booth…" she murmured, her voice catching slightly as she felt his calloused thumb tenderly caressing the nape of her neck.
"It's OK," he whispered, and she nodded slightly, a soft smile ingrained on her features… because it was more - so much more - than OK.