A/N: Next Thursday, in lieu of a new chapter, I'll post a one shot. Thanks to everybody who reviewed last chapter and to Eternal Destiny 304 for her endless patience and encouragement.
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Brennan smirked at him from across the table, obviously savoring her victory as much as the pizza that she was now inhaling. Annoyed as he was at being so completely bested, Booth couldn't help but grin at how cute she looked with cheese dangling from her lips. He reached over and used his index finger to swipe tomato sauce from the corner of her mouth.
"I would have liked to keep playing," she complained, using a napkin to wipe away the remainder of the mess.
Booth fended off her attempt to steal the olives from his last slice. "Two hours was all the time my wallet could handle."
"We could have returned to the hotel for my wallet," Brennan insisted, sitting back and taking a long sip of her iced tea. "It was only a few blocks away."
He swatted her hand away again. "Order another slice if you're still hungry. There were other people waiting to play, Bones."
She frowned. "They would not have been as good at the game as I was."
"Doesn't mean they shouldn't get their chance anyway," Booth said over a large mouthful.
Brennan glanced at her watch. "They've had an hour to play while we've been eating. Can we go back when you're finished?"
"Geez, Bones." He raised an eyebrow and downed the remnants of his water. "Addicted much? Sounds like you might need a twelve step meeting."
She stole a runaway olive from his plate and popped it into her mouth. "I'm not addicted. Addiction would involve requiring the game in order to function, playing it repeatedly until my work and personal life suffer. I simply want to test out my theory on a different method of passing level—"
"The first sign's denying it." Booth pushed back from the table. "You need a distraction."
He loved the way her eyes took on a mischievous glow as she went from irritated to interested in a split second.
"Are you proposing any specific kind of distraction?"
"I might have a few ideas."
They traded a long look, the kind they'd been sharing over diner meals for way too many years without doing anything about it.
She leaned in and lowered her voice playfully. "You occasionally have excellent ideas."
"First of all, my ideas are always excellent, Bones." Booth stood up. "And second—this is one of my best ones yet." He nodded in the direction of the door with more than a little urgency. "You wanna leave?"
Brennan's gaze was suddenly far away. "Wait, Booth."
That was totally not the answer he was expecting. "Wait?"
She got up and headed towards the back of the restaurant, where she'd obviously spotted something of interest. Booth followed her, protesting.
"I thought I was going to be the one distracting you." He suddenly worried that she'd spotted an arcade game hiding in the corner or something. "Okay, you seriously need to get yourself a sponsor for this addiction—" He trailed off as she shoved open a door that had been closed previously. "Bones, you don't even know if we're allowed in here!"
"I knew I heard music," Brennan said smugly. "The soundproofing on this room was done poorly."
A white-haired granny-type looked over. She had an electric guitar slung around her neck and was slightly flushed. Over by a six-piece wireless drum set, an older man, presumably her husband, seemed slightly embarrassed.
"Have you ever played?" the granny asked, beaming as she took off the guitar and motioned to her relieved husband to go ahead and leave.
"I don't play a musical instrument," Brennan replied, obviously misunderstanding the question. "That is an unusual drum set."
She'd followed the music, but obviously didn't know what she was looking at.
Booth started to grin. He took the guitar from the woman and settled it around his neck.
"I didn't know you played guitar," Brennan said in surprise, watching as he approached the T.V. that currently was displaying a very familiar logo backlit by orange and yellow flames.
"Oh, yeah, Bones." He selected Career mode. "This instrument, I definitely know how to play." He chose 'expert,' the guitar as his instrument, then scrolled to Jimmy Eats World's The Middle. The song was mediocre, but he'd played the game enough times with Parker that it was an old standby he knew he could make impressive. So, he'd look and feel a little like a dork, but what the hell. Anything to get Brennan smiling.
"Okay, Bones. Ready?"
"For what?"
"I'm gonna make this baby sing," he crowed, as the screen cued up and the cheering of the crowd started. He could feel Brennan's eyes on his as he followed the chords onscreen.
Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Yellow. Blue. Yellow. Blue. Green.
Booth swiveled the guitar as the lyrics started and flashed a grin at Brennan before turning back to the music onscreen without missing a note.
Hey. Don't write yourself off yet. It's only in your head you feel left out …
He made an idiot of himself, really bobbing and swaying to the music, egged on by Brennan's huge smile. Booth played the guitar for all it was worth all the way into the freestyle at the end where he pulled a Jimi Hendrix and mimed destroying his instrument as Brennan broke into applause.
"I am very impressed, Booth. Your hand-eye coordination weaponry skills translate into a surprisingly good grasp of this game."
"Yeah?" He grinned wider yet, aware it was a high compliment even if it was typically backhanded. "Wanna try? We can have a contest."
She hesitated. "You will win."
"C'mon, Bones," he wheedled, unslinging the guitar and holding it out to her. "Give it a whirl."
A little reluctantly, she stepped up to the screen.
"I'll pick a fun song for you," he promised, setting her up at an easy level before selecting her song. "Everybody knows this song. You'll be fine. All you do is follow the notes on screen and do what they tell you. If the button stays down a long time, it means you hold it." He instructed her on the finer points of slides and skips before stepping back. "Okay. Here we go. Ready?"
"I'm not—"
One. Two.
Red. Blue. Red.
"I don't know what to do!" Brennan exclaimed, as she missed the next note, then the next.
Booth stepped up behind her and guided her fingers, knowing she'd catch up in a minute. "Keep it goin', attagirl …"
As she seemed to get the idea, he backed off and started singing.
Big wheels keep on turning
Carry me home to see my kin
Singing songs about the Southland
I miss Alabama once again
And I think it's a sin, yes
He didn't know the next piece, so he played it up like a clown, bobbing and weaving as Brennan started to smile and got into it. She was messing up completely, but she was having fun. The chorus started and Booth yelled it twice as loud, to make up for the lost verse.
Sweet home, Alabama!
Where the skies are so blue.
Sweet Home, Alabama!
Lord, I'm coming home to you.
He cheered as she dug her fingers in and gave it her best. "All right, Bones! Yeah!"
Brennan laughed and played and laughed some more, and he had more fun watching her than he had showing her up with his own blistering solo. When the long song finally wrapped up and he started to set up another song for her, she backed away.
"I'm terrible at this! It requires a great deal of practice." She waved him away as he tried to get her to take the guitar back. "You play. I prefer singing."
"That can be arranged …" Booth nudged her aside and plugged in the mic. "Hold this."
He scrolled around until he found what he wanted. "Okay. I play. You sing."
"What am I singing?" she asked warily, eyes darting to the screen which he was deliberately blocking.
"You'll know in just a minute." Booth adjusted the guitar, hiding a smile. "Here we go …"
He hadn't played this one much with Parker—it made him think too much of Brennan, and that hadn't been a good thing when he was trying to all but forget she existed—so he didn't tear his eyes away ftom the screen to gauge Brennan's reaction as the iconic intro began and he scrambled to keep up with it. But even without looking, Booth knew she was smiling. The whole room got warmer as he finished his solo and she started to sing.
Well I'm hot-blooded, check it and see.
I got a fever of 103.
Booth couldn't help it. He had to look at her, and he missed a couple chords but it was worth it to see her dancing with the mic.
C'mon, baby, do you do more than dance?
I'm hot-blooded, hot-blooded.
He loved her voice, even when she was putting on strange rock-star affectations. Missing more chords, he hammed it up, waving the guitar around while whaling away at it. His mistakes didn't throw her off much and she kept going, putting a little growl into the lyrics.
You don't have to read my mind.
To know what I have in mind.
The look she gave him was less seductive and more outright as soon as this finishes, we're doing a lot more than dancing …
Booth flushed slightly and struggled to catch up as the music got away from him again. Beside him, Brennan belted,
Honey, you oughta know.
Now you move so fine,
let me lay it on the line.
I wanna know, what you're doing after the show.
He made the mistake of glancing at her again and got the same look, with double the heat.
Now it's up to you … we can make a secret rendezvous.
Just me and you …I'll show you lovin' like you never knew.
This time, Brennan's coy grin was X-rated. Booth swallowed his tongue and reprised the original intro, singing along with the familiar chorus before howling "I'm hot!" in sync with his partner. Then it was his turn for a long solo, which she bumped and ground her way through in truly unfairly distracting fashion. If this was actually the contest he'd wanted it to be, he was losing for the third time this evening, and winning had never seemed less appealing.
Now it's up to you … we can make a secret rendezvous.
Before we do …we'll have to get away from you-know-who …
They danced around each other with such cheesy grins on their faces that Booth was half-sorry weren't videotaped. Sure, he never wanted the picture of him doing this to leave the room. Then again, he'd love a permanent portrait of Brennan doubled over, her long hair in her face, screaming into the mic before bouncing back upright with her cheeks red and her eyes gleaming.
The song ended with them in close harmony, both breathing quickly for more reasons than the musical exertion. She put the mic down and he pulled her into his chest, his mouth swooping down to catch her lips heatedly. Never one to hold back, Brennan wrapped her arms around him and kissed back almost painfully hard.
"I can see why rock stars get high onstage from doing this," Booth muttered when they finally broke apart.
"This was very distracting," Brennan said by way of reply, grabbing his hand and almost dragging him towards the exit. "This door unfortunately does not have a lock on it. Hurry."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Convincing Brennan to take Monday off work turned out to be a lot easier than expected, now that Booth had sexual leverage to bargain with. Without any need to rush back to D.C., they spent the remainder of the day—minus a couple room service deliveries when Booth threatened sustenance or strike— getting intimately acquainted with each other's bodies, or, in Booth's case, with Brennan's lower half, starting about at her abdomen. They finally gave in to the need for a few hours of sleep about 4:00 a.m.
When Booth woke at 6:30, for no reason he could put his finger on—he was worn out enough to sleep for at least 6 more hours—he discovered Brennan wasn't in bed beside him.
He sat up and scanned the dark room for her silhouette. "Bones?" Not finding it, he got out of bed and checked the bathroom. When she wasn't there, and her clothes weren't anywhere to be found, alarm set in thick and fast as he scrolled through a mental checklist of possibilities before he panicked. She could've gone in search of early morning munchies, maybe, since she hadn't eaten much to replace the calories burned off during their lovemaking. He knew she occasionally suffered from nightmares. Maybe she'd had one and needed to get a breath of fresh air. It took him a minute to come up with another, less pleasant, prospect. Their emotional closeness over the last couple days had finally gotten to her and she'd flipped out and … and what? He was the only one with a car. She wouldn't have caught a plane home. No way. Right? Or she could have felt sick and gone to the hospital … without telling him? She wouldn't do that … right?
Booth yanked on his pants and trawled through the various takeout boxes before locating his cellphone. He speed dialed her number while pacing the room, searching for his shoes and stubbing his toes on multiple hard objects in the process. He cursed and dialed her number a second and third time when she failed to answer the first. He was about to hang up and call the concierge to see if she'd stopped off there, when her voice filled his ear.
"Brennan."
She sounded all right. In one piece, at least. Booth exhaled a furious breath. "Bones, where the hell are you?"
"In the SUV. Why are you awake?"
"Why am I—" Booth broke off the sarcastic report and ended the call. He unlocked the door, stepping into the cool morning air, and crossed the parking lot at almost a jog, getting angrier by the minute. By the time he reached the car, he was seething.
Through the window, he could see Brennan sitting in the passenger seat. He hammered on the window none-too-gently. She pushed open the door and regarded him silently, oblivious to how close she'd come to giving him heart failure.
"Bones, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
"I didn't expect you to wake for another few hours." It wasn't an apology, but it was a typically Brennan way of excusing her insensitive actions through logic.
"You scared the crap out of me!" Booth exploded.
"There was no need to worry."
"No need to—" he sputtered. "Bones, it's 6:30 a.m. We went to sleep two hours ago, both so worn out we were almost seeing cross-eyed. What was I supposed to think when I woke up and found you vanished?"
Brennan seemed to consider this, but said nothing in reply. Her hair, still thoroughly disheveled from their lovemaking, lay in soft tangles around her shoulders. He was torn between the desire to shake her or kiss her. Too late, Booth noticed the tension written all over her face.
"What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly terrified that he'd been right and she was sick. Maybe she'd gotten the phone call while he was asleep.
Rather than drop a bombshell of a diagnosis on him, Brennan gestured at the dashboard, which was covered in small white pieces of paper. "There's a piece missing."
Bewildered, Booth looked from the dash to her and back again. "What?"
She sifted through the papers and held one up for him to see. "A piece. It's missing."
Calling on every available saint to give him patience, Booth leaned inside and squinted at the fragment she was showing him. It was a piece of paper, torn from the hotel's complimentary stationery pad, on which a puzzle piece had been carefully drawn.
"Okay, Bones." He took a breath and strove for calm. "A piece of what is missing? How long have you been at this?"
"I woke about 5:00 a.m." Brennan had that vague, disconnected look she got when she was trying to put a wall between herself and an emotional situation. "Throughout the day, I had been thinking about the puzzle you brought over to my place."
"Throughout the day," Booth repeated dumbly. "You mean throughout yesterday. While you were kicking my butt at air hockey and Pac-Man and playing guitar with me. You were thinking about …" he gestured weakly, trying not to acknowledge the disappointment growing rapidly in him, "this. Whatever 'this' is."
"I am an excellent multitasker. Mulling over this task did not detract from my enjoyment of our activities." She didn't look at him, hunched as she was over a selection of homemade puzzle pieces.
He tried one more time. "Bones." He extracted a paper from her hand and turned her firmly to face him. "Explain what all this. In English."
"Why would I use another lang—" Brennan seemed to finally catch on. "I realized upon waking that my concern had been correct. This is a piece missing in the puzzle we were putting together in D.C."
Her answer raised an entire slew of new, far more bewildering questions. Booth leaned against the side of the SUV and closed his eyes, rubbing his face to try and alleviate a rapidly growing headache.
"You've been thinking this whole weekend about the puzzle we left in D.C. You think there's a piece missing. So you've recreated the entire thing here. From memory."
"Not the entire thing. I've created a schematic based on a selection of pieces which allowed me to create a mental composite in my mind of the image we were creating."
Booth opened his eyes and found her back at the puzzle again, moving pieces around. He could have questioned her memory, but that would have been a definite dead end. He knew better than to question her mental capacity, however absurdly over the top it might seem.
"Why?" he finally asked, latching onto the one question that might have a concrete, comprehensible answer. "Why are you sitting out here at 6:30 a.m. moving around puzzle pieces? Even if there is a piece really missing—why?" Frustration colored his words and he didn't try to hide it. Sometimes she was harder to read than Chinese. "Why, Bones? Just, why?"
"Puzzles are … peaceful for me," she said quietly, taking him offguard with her soft, almost shy tone. "In my work, as in my life, there are frequently pieces missing that can never be retrieved either physically or metaphorically. I do puzzles as a hobby because all the pieces are guaranteed to be in the box. I need one area of my life where I know the location of all the pieces."
Her voice cracked unexpectedly and she looked up at him, her eyes suddenly damp. The look on her face put him in mind of many years ago, back at the pig farmer's place. She had that same shocked, lost expression, like her world had just been shaken to its very foundations. "I need to find the piece, Booth. The picture is unfinished." Her voice had an edge of despair to it. "I need to finish it."
Okay. Brennan might not be fond of psychology, but this was so not about a puzzle. Booth leaned inside the car and pulled her into his arms awkwardly.
"We need to find it," she repeated, her fingers digging into the back of his shirt fiercely. "I need to find the piece, Booth. I need the puzzle to be complete."
"Okay." He held her close. "Okay, Bones. We'll find the piece. Shhhh. We'll find the piece."
"I want to go back to D.C." She lifted her head and stared at him. "I realize we agreed to take the day off tomorrow. Would you mind?"
He swallowed a sigh. Cutting their weekend short in order to go chase down a missing puzzle piece was so not what he had envisioned. "When do you wanna leave?"
"Immediately."
This time he didn't stifle the sigh as they walked back to their hotel room. In the doorway, Brennan paused to look at him.
"Thank you, Booth."
He waved at her to step inside and start gathering up her stuff. "Yeah."
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