I wrote this while feeling vaguely like the walking dead, but hopefully it won't show!
Please let me know your thoughts - as always, your reviews inspire me to keep writing quickly.
I hope you all enjoy what's left of your weekend :-)
"Is Agent Johnson really as adept as she claims to be when it comes to handling firearms, Booth?" Brennan asked as they headed towards the shooting range. Despite Booth's protracted gait, they were still walking several yards ahead of the other weary Agents.
Booth hesitated. "Well, I know Cullen wouldn't have authorised her transfer after the whole Buffalo fiasco if she didn't have something to offer," he informed her frankly. "She graduated from the Academy with flying colours, but her career's been taking a nose-dive ever since." He snorted wryly. "Which is pretty damn poetic, I guess."
Brennan nodded, looking pensive. "And what about Agent Norris? Is he likely to be a laudable opponent?"
"Yeah, Bob's pretty good, Bones," Booth readily admitted. "He's got twenty years on me when it comes to target practice and I know his aim is still rock-steady. Not as steady as mine though," he informed her, his eyes darkening slightly.
"It never pays to be complacent, Booth."
"I wasn't being complacent," he countered abruptly. Seeing his partner's vaguely wounded expression, he hastily abandoned his brooding demeanour. "What's with all the questions anyway?" he ventured, regarding Brennan with amusement. "Don't tell me you're regretting calling Alex out?"
Brennan frowned, eying him in confusion. "Calling her out where, Booth?"
"It's a figurative…" He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Never mind, Bones. I just meant… you know… that you must be nervous after throwing down the gauntlet in front of all those people?"
"Which is also a figurative expression," Brennan reminded her partner wryly, "It derives from the French term 'gantelet," she added, completely oblivious to his indifferent expression, "In medieval lore, a knight would issue a challenge by throwing down his glove - or gant - and - "
"Bones, spare me the spiel, OK?" Booth interjected, regarding her beseechingly.
"Fine," Brennan countered, pursing her lips cantankerously, "If you want to continue using expressions without knowing their origin, I'm happy to let you wallow in ignorance."
"I've been managing just fine for the past thirty-six years, Bones."
"I very much doubt that you had a fully-developed vocabulary from birth, Booth," Brennan countered, her expression decidedly smug.
"Now you're just being persnickety."
"Persnickety?" Brennan snorted contemptuously. "Is that even a word?"
"Yes, Miss Merriam-Webster, it is, so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it, OK?"
"I have no desire to pollute my body with toxins, Booth," Brennan stated imperiously, "And I sincerely hope that you've stopped smoking those cigars, too."
"Bones, it's not like I make a habit of it," Booth protested in an exasperated tone. "It was a one-off indulgence. You can't blame me for wanting a taste of life's simple pleasures after... well, you know."
"If the taste is anywhere near as nauseating as the smell, I imagine it can't have been very pleasurable."
Booth watched with concern as his partner's eyes became progressively more remote, and immediately regretted mentioning his close call. He nudged her lightly with his elbow. "You're just pissed off because I know a word that you don't," he teased, relieved to see Brennan quickly snap out of her reverie.
"One word doesn't equate to a superior vocabulary, Booth. I imagine I know hundreds of words that you've never even heard of."
"Yeah, but when someone tells me to 'put that in my pipe and smoke it,' at least I don't take them seriously." Booth started to laugh uproariously, and Brennan huffed, folding her arms.
"You're being mean to me, Booth."
"Poor baby," he teased sarcastically, looping an arm around his partner's shoulders when she attempted to saunter away from him. "Aw, come on, Bones, don't be like that. You know I love you really," he declared, his eyes dancing with amusement.
"Is that another 'figurative expression,' or am I supposed to take you seriously this time?" Brennan countered, quirking an eyebrow. Seeing the look of unbridled panic on her partner's features, she started to laugh, forcibly pushing him away. "On second thoughts, don't answer that."
Booth gritted his teeth, his cheeks reddening slightly. "You didn't even answer my question," he reminded her pointedly.
Brennan looked puzzled for a moment, and then realisation gradually dawned. "No, I don't regret challenging Agent Johnson," she declared with conviction, "I just wanted to know whether her self-confidence was warranted, that's all. She could have simply been posturing in front of your colleagues to save face."
"Well, it looks like she's going to wind up with pie on her face instead," Booth informed his partner, chuckling amusedly at his own joke.
"Does everything have to be about pie with you?" Brennan countered in an exasperated tone, "Or am I correct in assuming that you just made a metaphorical assertion pertaining to the likelihood of Agent Johnson's demise?"
Booth ruffled his partner's hair affectionately, grinning when she slapped his hand away. "You've got it in one, Bones," he teased, and then promptly added with a snort of laughter, "For once."
Brennan's lips quirked in amusement. "You're really not as funny as you like to think you are, Booth. Although I suppose, for someone of limited academic standing, you can be quite quick-witted on occasion."
"And for a certified genius, you can be pretty slow on the uptake," Booth retorted, his eyes crinkling with amusement, "But don't worry, Alex can't hold a candle to you," he concluded playfully.
"OK, stop!" Brennan groaned, rolling her eyes, but then her visage visibly brightened. "I know where that phrase derives from, too," she informed her partner triumphantly. "In the Elizabethan era, street lighting was a rare commodity, so underprivileged young boys were hired to escort – " Brennan punched her partner lightly in the stomach when he began humming loudly to drown out her explanation, breaking into an indulgent smile even as she shook her head despairingly. "You're being very immature, Booth."
"Yeah, well don't mock my language skills, OK? I may not be penta-lingual like Andy Lister, but I can hold my own with the best of them."
"Penta-lingual?" Brennan echoed, her expression derisive.
"See, that's exactly what I mean, Bones," Booth informed her in frustration, gently resting his hands on his partner's shoulders and mimicking a throttling motion.
"Get off of me, Booth," Brennan protested half-heartedly, her breath hitching slightly when she felt her partner's thumb tenderly grazing the nape of her neck and his fingers come to rest languidly against her throat, "And for your information, Andy Lister speaks six languages - not five - so if you apply your theory, I believe the correct term would be sex-lingual."
"Sex-lingual, huh?" Booth said softly, and Brennan felt his warm breath rustling through her hair. She shivered slightly, halting in her tracks, and then briefly closed her eyes when the sudden cessation of movement caused her unsuspecting partner to crash into her. She reached out to remove the hands that were still lightly encircling her shoulders, turning to regard Booth with sparkling eyes.
"Yes," she affirmed quietly, "Although someone who speaks several different languages is actually referred to as a 'polyglot.'"
"Really?" Booth edged a little closer, leaving their faces mere inches apart.
"Really."
"You know, I think I learn a lot more quickly when you're the teacher, Bones," Booth murmured, his eyes roving over the minutiae of his partner's features and then settling on her soft lips.
Brennan suddenly found it hard to swallow. "I think we've established that it's a mutually beneficial arrangement, Booth. I learn a lot from you, too."
She watched her partner's mouth quirk at the corners and allowed herself to become engulfed in the intensity of his gaze until the footfalls of the others became excruciatingly audible. Then, acutely aware of their intimate proximity, Brennan quickly turned her attention back to the rock-strewn trail, her breath snagging slightly when Booth's hand settled against her lower back under the guise of urging her forwards. Usually, that hand was static, pressing unassumingly against the ridge of her spine. Now, she could feel Booth's thumb tracing a tender pattern through the thick fabric of her sweatshirt and, as innocuous as that gesture was, her stomach still began to flutter pleasurably in response.
After spending several minutes outlining the rules of the task and giving them the requisite lecture on safety, Simon had distributed ten pairs of protective goggles and acoustic earmuffs and handed each set of partners a Ruger MK III semi-automatic pistol. Five concentric paper targets had been fixed approximately 50 yards away from the firing point, uniformly spaced but with a considerable gap between them. They were reinforced by a towering backstop of sandbags designed to absorb the wayward bullets. Every member of the group would be given the opportunity to fire a 10-round magazine at their respective targets, and the partners with the highest combined score would be declared the winners.
The opportunity for fighting talk was severely hindered by the ear defenders that everyone was compelled to wear, but Alex was more than adept at conveying her hostility through body language alone, and purposefully jarred Brennan's shoulder as she sauntered past her, glancing backwards with a self-satisfied smirk. Brennan moved to intercept the aggressive blonde, but Booth placed a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly and pointing to the target ahead of them. His message was clear. There was more than one way to prove her supremacy.
Alex deliberately opted to select the target directly adjacent to Brennan's, and she spent a moment gauging the weight of the gun, squinting through the iron sight and running through the motions of levelling her aim. The partners were permitted to choose who went first, and Alex waved an arm to garner Brennan's attention, pointing back and forth between them. Brennan nodded almost imperceptibly, taking the proffered gun from her partner and glancing at him sharply when he lightly brushed her hand with his own. Booth gave her two thumbs up and an encouraging grin, and Brennan's lips quirked faintly in response. Then the flicker of warmth in her eyes promptly extinguished, and she focused on the target with such concentrated intensity that Booth was surprised it didn't fall to the ground and surrender of its own accord.
Alex was performing an exaggerated mime for Brennan's benefit, indicating that she had to remove the safety before the gun would fire, and it took all of Brennan's willpower not to point her pistol in the patronising Agent's direction and demonstrate the extent of her expertise. Instead, she glanced in Simon's direction, waiting for his call to arms. The Guide sent a sweeping glance along the range, ensuring everyone was set to start the task, and then he lowered his raised arm, giving them a cut nod in the process.
Brennan used two hands to grip the gun and refused to be deterred by the fact that Alex was only using one. She took a deep breath, adjusting her stance to find her optimum centre of gravity, and after meticulously calculating her aim, pulled the trigger. Her first shot landed two bands to the right of the bullseye, squarely perforating the target. Her victorious smile faded slightly when she glanced to her left, only to realise that Alex's discharge had hit the inner rim of the same circle, bringing it a fraction closer to the critical target. Still, the blonde Agent looked completely taken aback by Brennan's precision and her mouth was slightly agape when she sent a contemptuous glance in her direction.
Brennan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, and was poised to raise the gun again when she felt a hand gently enveloping her wrist. She glared unrepentantly at Booth for disrupting her focus, and then realised he was gesturing wildly to the other Agents' targets, an expansive grin illuminating his features. Glancing along the row at Sandra, Otis and Sergio's endeavours, it quickly became apparent that she and Alex were the only two participants to come anywhere close to hitting the bullseye itself. Brennan was surprised to see that Sergio had barely managed to graze the paper. Seeing the pride shining in her partner's eyes, Brennan took a fleeting moment to enjoy the accomplishment, and held the gun up for Booth's appraisal, giving him a pointed look that clearly said "can I have one of my own now?" Booth shook his head vehemently, his eyes crinkling with laughter. Then he moved his index finger in a swivelling motion, indicating that she should return her attention to the task at hand.
Alex fired her remaining nine rounds in quick, but lethal succession. All of them connected solidly with the target, creating a cluster of holes that edged progressively closer to the coveted, but microscopic bullseye. Brennan's technique was more measured, and she took a moment to gauge the wind speed, steadying her hands and centring her aim where necessary. By the time she finished emptying the magazine, her target could have been a carbon copy of the blonde Agent's. Both of them had veered slightly to the right of the bullseye, and both of them had grazed its periphery on two occasions. Brennan had landed three shots in the middle of the innermost ring, but Alex had managed to surpass her with four. The Agent's bullets had punctured the paper marginally closer to the interior edge, but they were still within the confines of the circle itself, so the nominal difference would have no bearing on their individual scores.
The remainder of Brennan's shots spanned the second and third bands, but one of Alex's errant bullets had strayed to the forth, leaving them incapable of deducing who had the overall advantage. They stared at each other coldly for a moment, and then Simon waved a flag to indicate the end of the first heat. The Agents lowered their weapons accordingly, and the hotchpotch of perforations littering their targets left no doubt that Brennan and Alex were the most talented members of the group.
"That was amazing."
Booth's warm, fresh breath swept across her cheek as he gently removed her earmuffs, and the appreciative timbre of his tone resonated deep within the pit of Brennan's stomach.
"Not amazing enough," she said ruefully, heaving a disappointed sigh upon realising that she hadn't accomplished her initial aim of annihilating her adversary.
"Are you kidding? Alex wasn't lying, Bones, she's an amazing mark, but you just met her shot for shot. Look at her face. She's livid," Booth informed her gleefully, and Brennan allowed a fleeting smile to grace her features as she observed Alex's incensed expression.
However, her anxiety rapidly returned when she saw Simon striding across the clearing to appraise their respective targets. He removed them from their fixtures, beckoning Ross and Jenny to join him, and the Guides mulled over the decimated paper for what seemed like an eternity. Then Simon marched towards the centre of the clearing, holding up both of the women's targets for everyone's evaluation. "It's too close to call," he announced definitively, and Brennan's tense shoulders slumped in palpable relief.
"Wow, Dr Brennan, you're quite some novice," Otis hollered from the other side of the firing range, and the group broke into a spontaneous round of applause.
"Yeah, you just redefined the notion of beginner's luck, Bones," Booth added sarcastically, breaking into laughter along with everyone else as he gazed disdainfully in Alex's direction.
"I want a rematch," Alex suddenly declared, and Simon shook his head despairingly.
"For God's sake, Johnson, let it go. Dr Brennan is clearly more than capable of holding her own. Don't set yourself up for another fall," he warned her, and she regarded him defiantly.
"No, in any other sport, we'd go to a tiebreak, so why the hell should this be any different?" Alex demanded, motioning for Bob to hand her the new cartridge. "We should get one more shot apiece, and then you can decide whether the round of applause is warranted, OK? She didn't win," she reminded them angrily, expertly reloading the gun.
"But Booth is an exemplary marksman, so in all probability, we will win," Brennan reminded her matter-of-factly, and Alex turned to regard her with a sneer.
"Don't try and talk your way out of it, Dr Brennan. You're just too chickenshit to take me on."
Brennan started to laugh in disbelief. "I believe that's precisely what I just did, Agent Johnson, and quite effectively, too."
"So you think you're a better shot than me?" Alex demanded, her tone laced with outrage.
Brennan hesitated. "No, I think it would be fairer to say that we're evenly matched," she replied magnanimously.
"So why don't you put your money where your mouth is?"
Brennan glanced at her partner, her expression laced with confusion. "I didn't bring any money with me," she informed him anxiously, and Booth offered her a tender smile.
"It's just another way of throwing down the gauntlet, Bones," he informed her, narrowing his eyes in Alex's direction, "And you should just walk away, because she's really not worth it."
The rest of the group, however, clearly begged to differ, and under Teresa's direction, they began to chant "face-off, face-off, face-off" with growing fervour, clapping their hands enthusiastically.
It was the first time Simon had seen the apathetic Agents display any lingering signs of animation all day and, realising that he would be pitted against the baying masses if he took the moral high ground, he glanced heavenward and heaved an aggrieved sigh. "It's up to you, Dr Brennan," he proclaimed in a tone that was laced with lassitude, shrugging apologetically when Booth sent a disapproving glare in his direction.
"Do you think I can beat her, Booth?" Brennan ventured quietly, her confidence visibly faltering as she inwardly acknowledged that Alex had both the skill and the determination to defeat her if she decided to take up the challenge.
Booth studied her keenly for a moment, and then placed the fresh cartridge in her clammy hands, curling his fingers around them and squeezing lightly. "I think you can kill her," he murmured, his tone brimming with conviction.
Brennan searched her partner's face for any sign of doubt, but only found unbridled faith. She held his intense gaze for a moment, and an intangible energy seemed to bounce between them, imbuing her with a renewed sense of resolve. "OK," she murmured, for his ears only, before slowly turning to face the expectant crowd. "OK, I'll do it," she announced, to a cacophony of cheers and whistles.
"All right, Agent Johnson, it looks like you've got your showdown," Simon announced, regarding the beaming blonde wryly, "But you should be aware that this little confrontation is not going to have any bearing on the overall scores. You and Dr Brennan received the same number of points, and that's the way it's going to stay, so if you're that concerned about winning the task, maybe you should start giving your partner a little pep talk instead."
Alex rolled her eyes. "Just get me a fresh target, Simon, would you?"
Ross was already in the process of mounting five pristine paper targets in front of the sandbags, so Simon turned his attention to the rest of the group, shaking his head in amusement when he realised the Agents were already making bets amongst themselves.
"OK everyone, pipe down and give the ladies some space," Simon hollered, gesturing for them to assemble behind the firing point and don their protective gear. When everyone was suitably attired, he turned towards Alex and Brennan with a sardonic smile. "So, am I going to have to flip a coin, or can you decide who's going to go first without instigating World War III in the process?"
Alex stepped forwards before Brennan even had time to respond. "I'll go first," she declared, and Simon glanced at Brennan in amusement.
"Is that OK?"
Brennan shrugged, nodding, and moved to stand alongside Booth, who promptly snaked an arm around her waist as she took a moment to reload and momentarily immobilise her pistol. She handed Booth the gun while she reached for her own set of earmuffs, and he winced when he realised the weapon was slick with nervous sweat, something that was undoubtedly going to affect his partner's grip. Still, Brennan's composure was firmly intact, and her face barely registered a response when Alex fired her weapon and missed the bullseye by a fraction of an inch. It was closer than either of them had come in the initial round, and Brennan knew she was going to have to hit the centre of the target if she wanted to stand a chance. Alex clearly realised that she had put her at a distinct disadvantage, and returned to Teresa's side to gloat accordingly. Brennan tried not to notice the commiserating looks that were already being sent in her direction.
Booth tugged on his partner's sleeve, pulling her aside for a moment and gesturing for her to remove her earmuffs. "You know, if you pull this off, Bones, I might let you fill out another request to be able to carry a concealed weapon."
"I thought that was my constitutional right, anyway?"
"Yeah, but this time I might actually grant it."
Brennan's eyes visibly narrowed. "You're trying to bribe me, Booth, which would suggest that you think I have a very limited chance of success and I require an added incentive to achieve my goal."
"No," he shook his head vehemently. "I know you can hit that target, OK, Bones? And I know you're gonna show all those idiots who bet against you just how stupid they really are."
"They're placing bets?" Brennan asked anxiously, looking faintly mortified.
"Yeah, and if I wasn't a recovering addict, I'd put all my money on you."
Brennan's cheeks coloured slightly, and the beginnings of a smile began to tug at her pursed lips. "Are you going to be mad at me if I miss, Booth?"
He shook his head again. "No, because that's not going to happen." Seeing his partner's poise begin to slip slightly, he handed her the gun, offering her a reassuring smile as he echoed the sentiment he had once spoken to Cam. "I'm with you, Bones – all the way, and nothing's ever going to change that. But you can do this. I know you can."
Brennan nodded, closing her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, they were filled with resolution. She strode towards the firing point, her eyes fixed attentively on the target, and she took several cleansing breaths, glancing towards the wind flag that was billowing lightly in the breeze. She cocked the gun, removing the safety, and levelled it steadily towards the target, using the iron sight to enhance her aim. Her heart was pounding frantically as she assumed her firing stance, and the sound reverberated in her ears; disconcertingly loud because of their protective covering. She adjusted the gun by a fraction of an inch, and the surge of adrenaline as she readied herself to pull the trigger was almost paralysing.
Brennan realised this was the first time she had ever mulled over the importance of a single shot. She had killed two people, but she had always been in situations where she had been forced to act – not react. When she and Booth were in immediate danger, her response was instinctual – she couldn't afford to hesitate when their lives were on the line, and contemplating the ramifications of her actions never occurred to her until the threat was immobilised. But Booth had to lie in wait for his deserving prey to become vulnerable, and it suddenly occurred to her how courageous - how focussed – her partner must have been, to pull the trigger after he'd had an indefinite period of time to analyse the repercussions of his actions. No wonder he struggled to reconcile his guilt. Her thoughts were suddenly consumed with Booth's words of encouragement; he believed in her, and Brennan wanted to ensure that his faith was warranted. Although the situation was hardly comparable, she wanted to show her brave and noble partner that she could be strong in the face of adversity, too.
She pulled the trigger, and though she knew it was a logical impossibility, time momentarily seemed to stand still. She closed her eyes, loath to acknowledge her bullet's final destination, and then the disembodied sound of cheering and catcalls penetrated the density of her earmuffs. She felt the gun being eased carefully out of her grasp, and her eyes flew open when two strong, but gentle arms encircled the top of her legs and lifted her effortlessly into the air, spinning her around in dizzying circles until she was smiling uninhibitedly. She tossed aside her earmuffs and was promptly assailed by a round of resounding applause, which caused her smile to swiftly evolve into a full-blown grin. Much to the group's collective amusement, Brennan began to pound lightly against her partner's chest in a bid to worm her way out of his oppressive embrace, but Booth continued to whirl her around in maddening circles until she finally gave in and burst into laughter.
"Booth, put me down," she protested feebly, lacing her arms around her partner's neck in an attempt to regain her equilibrium. Booth beamed up at her with a cheek-splitting grin, his features glowing with such palpable adoration that even Brennan couldn't misinterpret what he was trying to convey. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before; a look that could make her cheeks flush with pleasure and her heart race against her ribcage. Her stomach started churning with a heady mixture of apprehension and excitement, and their dense layers of clothing couldn't detract from the exhilarating sensation of being bolstered in her partner's embrace. At that moment, Brennan wanted nothing more than to bow her head and kiss Booth with a longing that was almost overwhelming in its intensity, but she knew their prolonged clinch was already eliciting a raised eyebrow or two.
"You're going to hurt your back," she murmured directly into his ear, grazing her fingertips across the nape of his neck as he gently set her down, allowing her to appraise the perforated target for the first time since she had fired her fateful shot.
Brennan's bullet had penetrated the upper right hand corner of the bullseye with awe-inspiring accuracy, and the neat hole was resting proudly within the confines of the tiny circle. Alex's effort was only a half-inch to the right of hers, but this time, there was no doubt about who had left the winning mark.
Calls of congratulations reverberated around the firing range, and Simon sent a crisp salute in Brennan's direction, winking to convey his pleasure at the unexpected outcome.
Brennan smiled at him gratefully, and then tore her eyes away from Booth in order to locate a glowering Alex, hoping to finally see some measure of respect on the Agent's disdainful features. Instead, Alex sauntered towards her, her perpetual sneer still firmly in place.
"You know, Dr Brennan, I would just love to know what Seeley said to you before you fired that round off. Did he promise to fuck you long and hard if you made the grade?" Alex taunted, snorting derisively. "Because God knows, I could move mountains if he was offering himself up as a reward, too."
"Alex…" Teresa called warningly, shaking her head almost imperceptibly as a sudden silence settled over the group.
"You do know that it's only a matter of time before he realises that he's wasted on a frigid bitch like you and gets himself a better model, right?" Alex demanded quietly, her eyes gleaming with malice when she noticed Brennan flinch almost imperceptibly in response to her jibe.
"That's where you're wrong, Johnson, because women don't come any better than Bones," Booth retorted, and the low cadence of his tone did little to detract from its foreboding quality. "Now, you'd better show a little grace and give my partner the respect she deserves, or I swear I'll - "
"Booth," Brennan interjected, placing a placating hand on her partner's forearm. She stalked towards Alex until they were toe-to-toe, eyeing the smaller woman intently. "I think we've all established who the bitch is around here, Agent Johnson, and it certainly isn't me," she stated in a strong, but measured tone, leaning forwards until their heated breath was on the verge of mingling. "I kicked your ass," she enunciated imperiously, "Now deal with it."
Alex's small palms were deceptively powerful, and Brennan sucked in a breath when they collided solidly with her chest. The same blow had felled an unsuspecting Bob earlier on that morning, but Brennan's slender frame was coiled with tension, and it only took her a matter of moments to regain her balance. She captured the fist that was hurtling towards her jaw, twisting the Agent's arm until Alex emitted an agonised grunt. Then she flipped her effortlessly onto her back, leaving the blonde gasping futilely for breath as the jarring impact rendered her winded.
"All right, break it up!" Simon yelled, rushing forwards when he saw Brennan lifting up her hiking boot with the intention of compressing Alex's windpipe.
"Come on, Bones, she's not worth it," Booth assured his partner, grasping her shoulders and pulling her away from her quarry while Simon hefted a shame-faced Alex to her feet, regarding her with far more concern than she deserved.
"Apologise," he demanded, regarding the blonde intently, but Alex shook her head violently, evading his gaze. Simon's eyes visibly narrowed. "Johnson, you're gonna shake Dr Brennan's hand and say you're sorry, or else I'm going to send you packing and I won't have any qualms about telling your boss why."
Alex emitted a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob, and she regarded Simon's obdurate features until her shoulders slumped in defeat.
"God, I feel like I'm in kindergarten again," she murmured feebly, before hesitantly turning her attention to Brennan. "You're right," she announced with surprising sincerity, "I underestimated your capabilities and you kicked my ass – fair and square. I'm just being a sore loser. I'm sorry," she choked out, extending a trembling hand.
Brennan regarded the appendage warily, as though she thoroughly expected the hateful Agent to break her wrist if she reached out to shake it, but Booth nudged her shoulder and she hesitantly accepted the gesture. When Alex offered her a tremulous smile and didn't display any murderous intentions, Brennan's features began to soften slightly.
"It's OK," she assured her after a moment's hesitation, and Simon broke into a wide grin, despite the distrustful nature of Brennan's tone.
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Alex's shoulders and giving her a crushing squeeze. "There's hope for you yet, Johnson," he deadpanned, and Alex regarded him incredulously.
"You're squishing me," she retorted flatly, and Simon promptly removed his arm, looking faintly embarrassed. "I didn't say that I minded," she added in a far more flirtatious tone, and even though the Guide rolled his eyes in exasperation, he was quick to return her hesitant smile.
Booth sent a curious look in Simon's direction, quirking his eyebrows in an unspoken question, and he watched in a mixture of disbelief and amusement as the Guide's cheeks coloured slightly in response.
Simon cleared his throat, quickly regaining his composure. "This is turning into a circus," he muttered, emitting one of his notorious whistles to regain the rowdy group's attention. "Right everyone, we're going to start the second heat in a couple of minutes, so I'd like you all to calm down and re-assemble in front of your respective targets, please."
The Agents obligingly began to scatter across the span of the firing range, and Simon turned to regard Brennan with a warm smile. "I think we can safely assume that Agent Johnson won't be questioning your capabilities again," he informed her, shooting a wry smile in Alex's direction before patting Brennan lightly on the shoulder. "You were great up there, Dr Brennan. Well done."
"Thank you," Brennan said courteously, before poking her partner lightly in the ribs. "Think you can beat that?" she demanded, her soft smile belying her challenging tone.
"Well, you're a pretty hard act to follow, Bones," Booth conceded warmly, resting his right hand against the small of his partner's back as they strode towards their target. "I guess it depends on what you're planning to bribe me with," he teased, feeling a little reckless.
"Well, as soon as we get a moment to ourselves, maybe I'll show you," Brennan countered in her best attempt at a seductive tone, gazing at her partner with iridescent eyes. The hand that was softly caressing her lower back promptly stilled against her spine, and suddenly Booth's arm was around her shoulders and he was pulling her towards him in a half embrace.
"You know you're going to have to make good on that promise, right?" he murmured into her hair, and Brennan shivered slightly, gently pushing him away.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Booth," she warned him, but she couldn't prevent her eyes from crinkling in amusement as he approached the firing point and donned his protective gear, sending a disarming grin in her direction.
"Watch and learn, baby," he proclaimed, picking up the gun and tensing in anticipation as he waited for Simon's approval.
Brennan's gasp caught in her throat as Booth levelled his weapon and proceeded to obliterate the target's inner circle. The cluster of bullets was so finely placed that they quickly created a single, gaping hole in the heart of the frail paper. The feral glint in her partner's eyes as he repeatedly drilled round after round into the bullseye - hitting it squarely once, twice… five times - made Brennan's stomach clench reflexively, especially considering the fact that Booth barely even paused for breath while accomplishing the impossible feat.
Booth turned towards her when his magazine was spent, but the jubilant expression she had anticipated was conspicuously absent. Instead, her partner's features were hollow and entirely devoid of pride, and she knew it was because his exceptional talent had been honed at the expense of others. She approached him gingerly, removing the pistol from his unfailingly steady hands, but not before she noticed that his knuckles were blanched white.
"Are you OK?" Brennan asked, in what she hoped was a comforting tone. She sought out her partner's gaze, offering him a soft smile, and felt a twinge of relief when Booth's grim expression brightened slightly and his lifeless eyes slowly began to regain their sparkle.
In the face of Bones' unequivocal understanding, the knot in Booth's stomach rapidly dissipated and, finding no traces of censure or fear in Brennan's fathomless azure eyes, he nodded wearily. "Yeah Bones, I'm OK," he reassured her, a grin slowly beginning to spread across his features as he regarded his partner with renewed confidence, "And something tells me that I'm gonna be feeling a whole lot better soon..."