AN: If anyone's still reading this (I truly wouldn't blame you if you'd given up on me), here's the next chapter. Remember when Brennan mentioned that her friend, Prof Woods, had invited them over to his place for dinner? Actually, you probably don't - it was so bloody long ago. Anyway, he did. Here's what happens.

The Officer in the Oubliette

Chapter Eleven: Within Touching Distance

Car headlights shone brightly before passing her by and leaving her once again in the shadow of late evening. She'd opted to take the train over to her friend's apartment inside of calling for a cab, and now, having just left the cover of Belsize Park Tube Station, she realised the error of her ways. The rainclouds, which had blanketed the sky as she walked from her apartment to catch the train, were now emptying their seemingly endless contents onto the people of London.

Brennan picked up the pace, not wanting to show up soaked-through. But as she turned the corner onto David's street, she knew she wasn't going to be able to avoid it. A couple of minutes later, she rang the doorbell of the smart grey-brick building and wiped the wet hair out of her eyes and tried to dry her face with the sleeve of her coat.

"Temperance...come in, come in!" David Woods beckoned as he opened the door and took in the sight of his dripping-wet friend. Brennan stepped inside and eased off her coat, careful to avoid spraying water all over the elegantly decorated hallway.

David took her coat and disappeared into a room to her left, returning a couple of seconds later with a white towel. "For you. Did you take the tube over here?"

"Yes. It wouldn't have been so bad, but I forgot that you live a couple of blocks away from the station." Brennan explained as she patted her face dry of water, and with it went the light cover of make-up she'd applied earlier. She handed the towel back to her friend and smiled an apology for the tan and grey smudges which ruined the whiteness.

"And what are we going to do about your hair? I don't possess a hairdryer...another towel it is." He hurried away again. Brennan looked down and stared at her shoes and then at her jeans, which were plastered to her skin from the knees down. She slipped off her flats and placed them to the side of the front door, out of the way. She then reached down and prised the damp denim away from her rapidly cooling skin.

"Here you are." David said as he returned with another towel. "And I think we're going to need to stick those jeans in the tumble...or the 'dryer', as you Yanks refer to it."

"I think that might be best. But..."

"Come with me." He led Brennan into the room to her left and hurried over to the tumble dryer. Like the hallway, the small, well-appointed utility room was spotlessly clean. "I'll leave you to it – to turn it on, just turn the knob to the right and press the yellow button. There are more clean towels in the cupboard behind you."

"Thank you." She was already thinking about how good it would feel to get out of her wet jeans.

"I'll go fix you a huge glass of wine and be back in a jiffy".

Brennan heard the door close behind her and she wriggled free of her jeans. She placed them in the dryer and followed David's instructions. Then she set about doing something with her hair.

She didn't hear the doorbell when it rang - the noise from the dryer muffling the sound. But she heard his voice. She heard his voice, and the sound of it hit her square in the stomach.

"Welcome...do come in."

"Thanks. Wow, you have a nice place here."

"We like it. Here, let me take your coat. Now, before we go any further, is it "Seeley", or "Booth"?"

"I prefer Booth."

"Excellent. Booth it is."

Brennan pressed her ear to the door and listened. The two men made more small talk...something about the weather...something about her...then she heard footsteps and she knew they had gone upstairs. She walked back over to the dryer and opened the door. Her jeans were nowhere close to being dry and so she closed the door again, and barefoot, she began to pace the tiled floor, stopping now and again to look at the black and white photographs which adorned one of the walls. They were mostly of landscapes, some of which were familiar to her. She wondered if David had taken them.

A few minutes later, she heard a knock at the door. "Temperance, I have your wine."

"Come in." She said, smoothing her black shirt down so that it settled just below the tops of her thighs.

"You 'do' dishevelled better than anyone I know." David smiled as he looked her up and down. Then he handed her, as promised, a very large glass of red wine. "I also brought you a robe and some socks, in case you were cold."

"I'm fine, thank you. The under-floor heating helps."

"So, your man has arrived."

"Booth is not 'my man', David." She felt an unexpected smile tug at the corners of her mouth, which she quickly shielded from view with her wine glass.

"Of course he isn't. But I have to wonder why the mere mention of his name has put that simply adorable smile on your face? What? You thought I didn't see?"

"I..."

"You know what? Hold that thought. I've just remembered that I've forgotten to turn up the oven. We'll be eating dinner at midnight at this rate."

As he closed the door behind him, Brennan took a greedy mouthful of the excellent wine and willed the blush that she knew was tracking a path from her throat to her cheeks to go away. But just then, unbidden, the memory of what it had been like to kiss Booth had her reeling, and the blush turned into a slow, unrelenting burn.

The memory of the sensation of his tongue pressing teasingly against her own caused her to tighten her grip on the slender glass stem, and even though she took another drink, her mouth remained dry. The tender way that he had responded to her urgent first kisses had surprised her. When all she wanted was to finally give in, he had held back. And then, when they climbed out of the taxi, and she had a second to think about what she had done, she had then been the one who tried to slow the pace. But the way he reached for her, and held the back of her head as he kissed her hard, recklessly even, made her stop thinking entirely.

Brennan shivered as she stood there half-undressed, the monotonous thumping of the dryer sounding somewhere to her right. She closed her eyes, this time willing the memories to take shape.

She recalled the feeling of his warm breath against the back of her head as she opened the door to her apartment building. Once inside, he slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her tight to him. With her back resting against his chest, she reached around blindly, needing to touch him also. She felt the material of his shirt in her hand and tugged. He then took one of his hands from around her waist and grasped her hand in his own. Drawing her fingers to his lips, she held her breath as he kissed the tips of two of her fingers and then closed his mouth around them.

She had wanted time to think as they stepped onto the elevator. But once the doors closed behind them, he spun her round and then walked her back slowly until she had felt the hard wall behind her. He stared into her eyes, and she wished she was better at this. "Bones" was all he said as he looked at her in a way that made her want to hide. Maybe he was silently asking her if this was really where she wanted to be. Or maybe he was looking for a sign that she wasn't, in the end, going to end up hurting him. She didn't know what answer she had given; all she knew was that they didn't stop.

Brennan opened her eyes because it was too much. What she felt was too much. The way he had touched her, tasted her and knew her was too much. She took another sip of wine and stared at the door. The urge to run had never felt so powerful.