A/N: Sorry to those of you who have figured out my posting schedule. I'm a few hours late on my personal deadline. I don't have a good excuse. I was bowling.
These one-shots are somewhat of an exercise for me in staying consistent with our beloved show. If you find something that you think doesn't run true to the show, please let me know. If something I write contradicts the show (which I discovered my November chapter initially did), I want to fix it. My husband says I'm crazy. Maybe so. Let me know.
October 2004
The week had barely begun and Booth's opinion of it was dismal. It was only midday Tuesday and already Booth was annoyed by everything. Deputy Director Cullen had dropped another colder-by-the-minute file on his desk first thing Monday morning and although Booth already had a new lead, the new agent assigned to assist him was incompetent. Tracking down original witnesses and the new suspect was not going as smoothly as he would have liked. Yet again, Dr. Brennan wasn't returning his messages though that wasn't unexpected after all the other unreturned calls and to top it all off, he still hadn't found a new apartment.
His eviction date loomed. Booth was not one to be intimidated but Booth found himself anxious. Yelling at the FBI forensics team for sloppy evidence handling on the cold case hadn't taken the edge off so he took off for an early lunch.
Buying the local chronicle out of the paper box in front of Wong Foo's, Booth entered and sat at the bar.
"Hey, you see your boy yet?" the owner greeted his regular as he sat at the bar.
"Not yet. But Rebecca has promised I can see him with his nanny at the park next week. Give him his birthday present then," he said, a sad smile on his face. It wasn't nearly enough but the agent was taking what he could get.
Sid nodded in sympathy and disappeared to the kitchen.
Nervously rubbing his new gambling sobriety chip, Booth opened the paper to the apartment listings. Reading down the page, he mumbled as he perused the ads, "too expensive… too expensive… bad neighborhood… too expensive… too far…" and quickly eliminated most of the listings as he went.
Booth's frustration was not new to the week. It had built over the last three weeks as his apartment search became more desperate. Without any vacation time left after his week with Parker, every evening had been filled with fruitless apartment hunting. So far, only a handful had fit his meager criteria to be within his budget, be in a neighborhood safe for a cop, and be within an hour's commute of work and Parker – not that being close to the latter would have mattered lately, so far Rebecca had been resolute in her threat to keep the boy from his father.
Of the few that had met his criteria, none would accept him as a tenant without a letter of recommendation from his previous landlord, something Mrs. Cho refused to provide.
Sid set down a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes in front of an exhausted federal agent. Not the usual fare in the Asian restaurant, the owner reasoned, "You look like you need some good comfort food."
"You never fail me, Sid. I don't know how you do it." He picked up his fork and began his meal while poring over the apartment ads in front of him, his last hope. He had four days to find a place and move in or he would be homeless.
Homeless.
That was a terrifying thought. Great, give Rebecca one more reason to keep Parker from me. He didn't even have his own vehicle to live out of and somehow he didn't think the FBI would be thrilled if he lived out of their SUV.
Aha! He circled the very last apartment listed, triumphant at his find, and punched the listing's listed number into his cell and heard it ring.
Again and again, it rang, Booth's shoulders slumping a little more each time. He had just accepted the inevitable answering machine when a woman finally answered on the thirteenth ring. He jolted upright again with a little hope since he had reached an actual person.
He gabbed eagerly into the phone, "Hi, yeah. Sorry to bother you." He was as bad as a telemarketer now, interrupting her dinner. "I'm calling about the apartment you listed in… seriously?" The crestfallen look on his face caught Sid's attention across the bar. "No, an apartment opening in six weeks won't help me. Thanks." He slapped his phone shut and tossed it next to his plate as Sid approached.
"Bad news?" The owner assumed the stereotypical barman stance, wiping glasses clean while facing the customer.
"Yeah." Hope was gone from his demeanor, his eyes glued to his plate. "My last option for my apartment was leased out this morning and I'm getting evicted in four days." He couldn't believe his crappy timing. Leaning forward on one elbow, the defeated agent took another bite and sent up a silent prayer to Saint Jude the patron saint of hopeless causes.
"I have a place for you." Sid stated matter-of-factly.
Disbelieving eyes raised to question the other man as he froze mid-chew. Had he prayed out loud accidentally?
Sid continued, "My mom just moved to a home. Her house is empty now. You can rent it, get my mom some money to help pay for the nursing care and I don't have to sell it right away."
Booth leaned back on his stool, hands on the bar, still skeptical, "Seriously, a house? I can't afford that!"
"How do you know? We haven't talked price yet. I bet I can make it work for you."
"Wow Sid. I don't know what to say." Saint Jude, you are GOOD!
"It's about 15 miles from here. I have a few stipulations though." Sid leaned both forearms on the bar as he ticked off his fingers as he listed, "One, Pay on time. Two, no pets. Three, no parties. And four take care of the house and yard. Take care of it right until I'm ready to sell it, and I'll take care of you."
Nothing outrageous or unreasonable asked, it sounded too good to be true. "Why are you doing this for me?"
"I have a knack for knowing who to trust."
Too good or not, he had a place to live! "You just saved my ass. Drinks tonight, on me." He stuck his hand to shake his new best friend's hand over the bar top.
Still holding Booth's hand, Sid reminded his new tenant, "I own a bar."
"Oh, right." Smirking at his own folly, Booth could finally breathe easily again. Everything else seemed manageable again. The case would get solved, he'd get the new agent reassigned, the suspect would be caught, Rebecca would eventually cave and let Parker stay with him again and he would find some way to get Temperance Brennan to call him back. The saints were listening, miracles could happen.
"How in the world did you write a book in thirty days?" Angela eyed her friend wearily as she laid her side satchel over the arm of the couch.
"Twenty-two days, actually. It just flowed out of me once I had characters and a crime in mind." Brennan pulled two wine glasses from a side cupboard and headed for the kitchen. "White or red?"
Her friend followed to lean in the doorway. "Red, please. So if you're done with it, why exactly did you want me to come over to read your book? I'm not exactly the smartest person you know." While she was happy to hang out, it was a Friday night and she would much rather be out at a club or bar than reading, even if there was free wine involved.
"Not the whole book, just the chapters with the main characters' relationship. I want an outside perspective on the way they work together." Brennan rummaged through her drawers searching for the corkscrew. Successfully finding it, she uncorked the bottle and poured out two generous glasses.
"Since when do you ask for other opinions? Though I'm flattered you asked me." Brennan handed Angela a glass and together they walked back to the living room, Brennan's workspace and Angela's voluntary detention for the night.
Brennan sighed as she sat at the dining table in front of her computer. Looking at the table, she spoke candidly, "I find I am not good at relationships. While I've had short term flings over the years and I'm dating Peter now, it's mostly about sex and I thought perhaps you would be better at telling me whether this fictional relationship is realistic or not."
Angela smiled wide at the complement. They were rare coming from the scientist, but she never said something she didn't mean.
"Also," Brennan tipped her head thoughtfully, "it has been pointed out to me that my intelligence makes others feel stupid and while I can't help being smarter than everyone else, I want this book to be understandable to the general public. You're my only friend who is intellectually equal to the general public so I'd like your opinion on its understandability." Remembering her blow-out fight with Agent Booth at the Hoover building after the Gemma case, she buried her head in her laptop.
"Gee, thanks." Angela's grin dropped to a smirk as she rolled her eyes, knowing full well her sarcasm would be lost on Brennan. After just a few short months, she knew her friend well enough to know she didn't mean to be insulting, she just called the facts as she saw them. "So where do I start reading?"
"I'd like to focus on the chapters with scenes where the characters meet first. Then, as time permits, I want your opinion on the scenes with the characters' personal relationship."
"The sex scenes?" Angela waggled her eyebrows.
"They won't have sex in the book."
"Hm, that will speed up the reading at least."
"Even skipping the strictly criminal and science parts, I don't know if we'll have time to make it through everything in one night. I flagged the specific scenes I want to focus on. I believe you'll start with chapter three."
Angela began reading but didn't make it more than a few sips. "Sweetie, what in the world is a patella? Page 27."
"It's your kneecap. I can't do anything about basic anatomy terms."
"Do you think they would consider adding a labeled skeleton picture as a reference?" The artist snickered at her own joke.
"I highly doubt it. This is a novel for adults, not… oh. You were joking." Brennan caught Angela's eye and continued reading herself.
The pattern continued for some time; Angela asking questions, noting which page and Brennan answering the questions while editing where necessary simultaneously on her computer.
"Whoa, Brennan." Angela shifted her body sideways on the couch so she could balance the manuscript on the back of the couch, thus facing the author.
"What's that?" Brennan's head inclined towards her friend though her eyes never left her screen. However, Angela's eyes never left the manuscript so she didn't realize her friend was only half paying attention.
"Page 29.
'Agent Andy Lister entered my office. He sat across from my desk, waiting for me to break my concentration. Little did he know, I had already noticed the breadth of his shoulders and strong jaw line. I looked up to the warm brown eyes and asked him…'"
Brennan looked up from her computer and raised her eyebrows impatiently, "I know what it says Ange; I wrote it. Why the 'whoa' reaction though?"
"The description of this guy! Are his looks based on your old professor flame?"
"Michael?" She thought for a moment, conjuring up an image in her mind of the real man. "No. He does have similar hair and brown eyes, but Michael's physique is not nearly as defined or virile as Andy's."
"One more question." She caught Brennan's eyes, pausing a moment before hesitantly asking, "Are you sure you want them talking about sex during their first conversation?"
"Why not? I've always found it best to be up front with a man about desires and expectations." Her head went down to her screen assuming Angela was making an observation, rather than bringing up a point of discussion."
Clearly, Brennan was not going to change it so Angela let it drop doubtingly with a murmured, "It's your story."
A few minutes passed while she finished reading Lister's introduction to the story and a very sexy lean in between the two characters. "Wow. That was hot! I think I'm going to need some chocolate to go with this wine." Then after a moment's reflection, Angela questioned, "What does Peter think about this?
"Think about what?" Brennan's head popped up once again, face completely innocent.
"About Agent Andy, about the book?"
Brennan's debated momentarily how to respond deciding to be honest. "He hasn't read it." She stood to refill her wine glasses in the kitchen.
"Really? Why not?" Angela had a tendency to overshare with the men she dated and could hardly understand keeping something as important as a book from one's sex-mate.
"Peter respects that I want to keep my work and my personal life separate." Brennan hollered from the kitchen as she poured another glass.
"So you have seen each other in the last month. On top of writing and lectures and the Jeffersonian?"
Brennan returned to the living room and paused in the doorway staring into space. "I haven't had any speaking engagements in the last month so I've had time to see each other. Always after intense writing sessions. I find that the creativity coming out in long writing stints tends to increase my libido."
"He can't complain about that." The artist turned to sit forward on the couch again.
"No." Her attention came back to reality at Angela's movement and she sat at the table once more. "If you're done with that chapter, I think chapter seven is the next one not revolving around the murder investigation." Brennan's fingers typed furiously
Angela stretched her legs and yawned wide, noticing her friend's activity. "I haven't had any notes for you. What exactly are you working on?"
"As I was re-reading my description of the victim's leg remodeling, I had only noted the plateau fracture to the tibia, and while not incorrect on its own, most people who have this type of break would also break their fibula as well. I have decided that inserting this detail will better demonstrate the severity of the previous injury thus giving the reader a better idea of the pain tolerance of the victim. Two broken bones is more interesting than one."
"How did I miss a broken leg?"
"Chapter fourteen. You aren't there yet."
She rolled her eyes and continued on her page, "Yeah, yeah, I'm an average reader who… whoa baby!" Angela interjected upon herself, spinning sideways on the couch to face Brennan yet still keeping her eyes on the paper before her. "I like this sexual tension you have going on with these two. He's always so in her personal space. Yowza!"
The author ignored the outburst and continued on her edits until Angela whined, "Seriously? You don't have them kiss here? They're practically ready to rip each other's clothes off and go at it!" She looked back to her friend, disappointed.
"They don't kiss until near the end," Brennan stated nonchalantly.
"Why not?" Angela whined. "I'm barely into this and I can tell they are meant for each other."
"Fictional characters can hardly have real relationships, Angela."
"Still, I want to see how these two…" she flipped to the last few pages of the manuscript, scanning until she spied Lister and Kathy's names together. "Wow. That is some kiss, based on that description. If I ever get kissed like that, I am going to marry that man. And I don't even believe in monogamy! No wonder you won't let Peter read this! It's your fantasy in print!"
Ignoring the fantasy remark, Brennan commented defensively, "It has nothing to do with the characters or kissing. I just like to keep my work and personal lives separate from each other. People at work don't need to know me outside of work and people in my personal life usually don't even want to know what I do at work."
"How does our friendship work then? It's okay to let your worlds overlap, you know. Let people in." Angela was prodding more than Brennan liked.
"I… Do you need more wine? I need more wine." With that, she stood to grab a second bottle from the kitchen, purposefully ignoring her friend's assertion and the question she had no answer to.