I know it's been a bit, but I'm working on other stuff for you guys to enjoy. I've got a 4th of July fic on the way. I don't know when the other one I'm working on will be done. Don't forget, I'm objectivemiss on Twitter!
Happy summer everyone! Enjoy!
B&B
Day 127
B&B
"Angie!" Brennan pulled her best friend into her arms.
"I'm sorry we're like a week late, but Jack here decided to change our travel plans."
"How so?" she pulled back a bit.
"Well according to him, it's much easier to get here from Australia. So we flew to Sydney and spent some time, and then we flew up to Darwin in the north. Charming really."
"From there," Hodgins burst in, "we sailed north. It was only about eighteen hours and the weather was good so-"
Brennan enveloped the scientist in a hug mid-sentence.
"I missed you too Dr. B," he smiled genuinely.
"Sweetie you're so…" Angela circled the anthropologist, "fit."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You're all tan and muscular, not to mention totally hot."
"Why thank you."
She had really had forgotten what it was like to have people around like Angela and Hodgins. They were not only extremely competent, but also enjoyable to work with and fraternize with outside of the lab. Judging by outward signs of happiness, married life seemed to have treated them in a loving manner. But Brennan couldn't help but a feel a bit of jealously; Angela had found a companion that made her extremely happy. And while she did not plan to marry, the prospect of companionship and its ensuing happiness was enviable.
"Do you guys know how rad the diving is here?" Hodgins asked excitedly. "Due to low human population and virtually no commercial fishing, the reef system is awesome. Mandarin fish and the Ambon scorpion fish, not to mention the spinner dolphins, orcas-"
"Thanks honey, but I've heard this whole thing three times over."
"You know," he smiled innocently, "according to my iPad, the currents today are extremely mild."
"Go on big boy, enjoy the water."
Hodgins planted a kiss on Angela's cheek bounding off.
"Now sweetie, we need to talk," she guided the Brennan by the shoulders towards the nearby beach.
"About what?"
"Don't play dumb."
"I would never consider feigning stupidity."
"About Booth silly."
"What about him?"
Angela stopped, looking the anthropologist in the eye, "Are you for real?"
"I'm quite sure of my own existence. As Descartes said, through one's thought one can be sure of one's existence, but not the nature of one's existence due to the inability to live outside our own experiences," Brennan sat down on the warmed sand.
"You could not have possibly rationalized your feelings that quickly," Angela dropped down beside her.
"Isn't the water beautiful?" she looked out on upon the cerulean blue water, the darker outlines of coral reefs visible.
"Sweetie, I know you like to avoid the issue, but completely trying to change the subject...that's a new low," Angela played with a shell.
"I don't know what that means."
"You're clamming up!" the artist put two shells together, making them pivot at the back joint in a biting motion, laughing at the humor.
"Those aren't clam shells, they are oysters."
"You get my point."
"No, no I don't," Brennan said with frustration. Angela always tried to make her speak of awkward things and quite frankly, it was uncomfortable.
"Do I have to spell it out for you?"
"I'm quite capable of understanding your vernacular without you annunciating every letter."
Angela shook her head. "Look, you told me that you think you might love Booth-"
"That is an inaccurate statement."
"Seriously? I think we both know what you are feeling," she put a hand on Brennan. "You can't just bottle up your feelings like this. It's bad. It's like shaking up a Coke bottle. There's pressure. And that pressure isn't good. You know what happens when you open up a shaken Coke bottle, right?"
"The carbon dioxide rushes out of the liquid it was forced into."
"Exactly. But if you let the pressure out slowly…" Angela made a twisting motion. "You don't have such explosive results."
"Are you saying that Booth and I will explode?" Brennan furrowed her brow.
"Metaphorically. Get out of the literal zone."
"You don't understand," the anthropologist's eyes began to tear. "I can't do this…"
"Why not?"
"It's to protect him," she scooped up some sand in her hand, watching as it as the small granules slipped through her fingers. "I don't have the ability to give him the meaningful, love-laden relationship that he both wants and deserves."
"Sweetie," Angela looked at her. "Yes you can. You have an open heart."
"Humans have a closed circulatory system. Invertebrates have open circulatory systems-"
"Don't do that! Don't hide behind facts like that!"
Brennan shook her head, looking down at the sand, her lips a tight line, quivering with emotion. She tucked her long hair behind her ears to keep it out of her downward facing features.
Feelings were always messy to deal with. They were easier just to shove them away for a rainy day. But what Angela was doing, was forcing her to face these feelings head on.
"I-I can't do it."
"Yes you can."
"Then what I am supposed to do then?"
"Tell him."
"How? You said that telling him over email wasn't personal enough."
Angela smiled, "Next time he calls, you tell him."
Brennan nodded.
"Dr. B?" Daisy ran over to the pair. "Oh and Ms. Montenegro!"
"Actually, it's Mrs. Hodgins."
"Oh wow," Daisy flubbed. "But anyway, we're about to eat lunch and was wondering if you two wanted to join us. I would never dream of letting Dr. B here miss an opportunity for good conversation."
"We'll be along shortly," Brennan said.
Daisy still stood behind the pair, a massive smile on her face.
"That means that you can leave."
"Oh I'm so sorry! I'll be along now and I'll see you there in a few minutes or whenever you want to okay? Bye!"
Angela laughed at the antics of the young anthropologist. "How do you survive with her?"
"She's actually not bad at all," Brennan stated. "She is growing into a fine anthropologist."
"You mean she isn't running you up a wall?"
She recognized the saying, "Not at all."
"I'm starving," Angela got to her feet. "Which way is the food?"
Brennan pointed a grouping of huts.
"Aren't you coming?"
"I'll be along in a while."
This wasn't going to be easy. Angela wanted her to verbalize her feelings to Booth. To Booth. She didn't want to. What if something she said upset him during his deployment? Or worse, what if he had already moved on? The last thing she wanted to do was cause him pain. No, she couldn't tell him; it would be selfish to do so. Telling him would simply make herself feel better; but there was no way to accurate way to predict how he would react to her statement.
But she was a scientist; she knew how to ask questions and find cause and effect relationships.
First, she had to ask a question. Would Booth be upset if she were to tell him that she could possibly have romantic feelings for him?
Secondly, she had to do background research; this would be easy with her history with Booth. In all the time that they had been partners, he valued honesty, although he approved of the telling of "white lies." And recently, with his own confession of love, he was waiting for her to reciprocate.
Thirdly, she had to construct a hypothesis. From her reminiscing, she could assume that he actually might be happy if she told him how she felt. Thus, if I tell Booth that I may have feelings for him beyond friendship, then he will react in a positive manner.
Of course, the next step was to test the hypothesis with an experiment.
If I tell Booth how I feel, it will be out of a scientific curiosity.
Satisfied with her rationalization, Brennan got up from the sand and walked off towards the eating area. Briefly, she hoped that Angela was getting along well with the members of her team. But remembering that Angela once described herself as a social butterfly, she must be able to get along decently well in unfamiliar social situations.
"Sweetie!' Angela waved her over, motioning to an open spot on the bench next to her.
Assuming that she meant the spot for her, Brennan sat down at the crowded table that she had eaten at the past 127 days.
"Ian here was telling me how much progress you guys have been making."
Mikel smiled warmly, "A lot of that is due to your friend Temperance here."
Brennan blushed; she was never particularly graceful at accepting praise. "Why thank you Mikel, but it really has been a full team effort."
"Bren, have you heard anything from Cam lately?" Angela stuffed her mouth with the local cuisine.
"She informed me that Clark was doing a magnificent job running the lab. Why, have you?"
"I talked with Cam last month," the artist smiled broadly. "She had a very funny story to tell about you and a frat party."
The forensic anthropologist blushed furiously, "That is a private story."
"I think I'd like to hear this," Merrill said, just sitting down.
"Well," Angela began. "It all started during her sophomore year…"
"I'm not going to hear this," Brennan jumped from the table.
"What? I haven't even gotten to the good part with the lampshade!" Angela shook her head with a laugh. "Anthropologists…"
Just 238 more days to wait out the embarrassment…
B&B
"So I say to the guy," Dr. Major Marcus Moore shoved a burger into his already full mouth, "that this is no laughing matter."
"Look sir, aren't you supposed to be eating in the officer's mess?" Booth interrupted the trauma surgeon's story.
"I hate the place; too stuffy and clean. But anyways, so I walk down the hall, and there the kid is!"
"Sir, I think it's illegal to love your job that much," Booth laughed along.
"Only in Europe," Moore winked.
"Sir-"
"How many times have I told you not to call me that," the Major waved his fork at the Sergeant Major.
"I'm just following proper procedure; I still salute you, don't I?"
"The Army could make a private and I wouldn't care. I'm here to treat the wounded, that's all. But no, I'm a doctor, so they have to make me all special."
Booth shook his head with amusement. Working with the Jeffersonian, he met plenty of doctors. And if there was anything that he learned, they could be wild characters. Bones was hyper rational, Hodgins was a nerd, Cam was more or less normal…but Moore, he was just such an odd customer. He loved to be a surgeon and was excellent, but he hoped to God that he never had to find out firsthand how good he was. All the guys in the worst shape were sent to him. Guys with their faces ripped off, missing limbs, impaled…the list of gruesome things the Major had seen went on and on.
"This seat taken?" Herring sloppily dropped his tray to the table, the questionable food on it flying every which way. "Oops, sorry about that sir," he handed Moore a napkin to wipe himself off.
"Not a problem Sarge," the Major took the napkin gratefully. "I swear, the biggest thing preventive medicine has to deal with around here is food related sickness."
"Sergeant Major Booth," a voice behind the Major said. "May I borrow you for a moment or two?"
The trio jumped to their feet to salute. The voice was Brigadier General Kirk Richards; one of the base's most senior officers.
"At ease," the Brigadier General moved to whisper in Booth's ear. "We've got a situation outside of base. We could use your expertise. I have a squad and a rifle for you ready to go. You'll need a spotter."
"Herring," Booth turned. "You any good at spotting?"
"I do fine boss. Just fine."
"Alright then, if you would come with me and the General," he said, then looking at Moore. "Sorry sir, we can finish our lunch some other time."
"You betcha' buddy."
The General led the two outside, "This is Second Lieutenant Randal Hahn. He'll take you two from here. God speed."
"Afternoon," Hahn motioned for Booth and Herring to follow. "At 1125 hours this morning, a base patrol noted five individuals to the ridgeline to the north. Since then, we have fired warning shots and have attempted to make remote contact. Preliminary reports show these individuals armed."
A few men came over, helping Booth and Herring into body armor. They handed Booth a sniper rifle, and gave Herring a laser range finder, as well as binoculars.
"With all active sniper units deployed, we need you two to set up along our ridgeline and provide cover as well as intel. Bravo Squad of the 2nd Battalion is going to move to contact."
"Yes sir," Booth saluted.
"Good luck."
In Booth's hands, was the new army M110 Semi-Automatic Sniper System (SASS); a big step up from the old M24 he had used back in his ranger days. He dropped to the most stable sniper position, the prone position, splaying his legs out for stability. He pulled down the stabilizers, ready to fire.
Herring crouched beside him, deploying the laser range finder. "Alright, contacts north, approximately 981 meters. We've got crosswind to the east."
"Got it," Booth made the appropriate adjustments. The targets were just inside the M110's effective 1000 meter range.
The Master Sergeant trained the binoculars in on the targets. "Bravo squad is moving in from the west, I've got three contacts. Two definitely armed."
"Roger."
"Bravo squad is engaging, watch the contact with the RPG."
Booth squeezed the trigger.
"You're off to the right by ten meters."
He squeezed the trigger again as the RPG man loaded a grenade.
The target fell soundlessly.
"Nice shot boss; looks like Bravo squad has it all cleaned up."
Booth had taken another life. Sniping was clean and distant; noting like shooting a murder with a pistol close enough to see the whites of his eyes. But it was a life, never less. He hadn't come out here to kill; he had agreed to train Rangers. To save lives. Bones wasn't going to be happy when he heard he saw action. Although she understood that he would rather not kill, what would upset her is the danger he was in. No matter how much he would tell her that he wasn't even in danger, that he was over 100 football fields away, he knew that she would get the look in her eye. The look of fear.
"Nice goin' boss," Herring slapped him on the back. "You gonna move or what?"
"Yeah…" he scooped up the rifle, putting the safety on.
"They're probably goin' to make us get debriefed and everythin'. Damn, that's why I went into trainin'. You know what I'm sayin'?" Herring started back to the center of base with Booth in tow.
"Herring, don't you think it was strange that there were contacts that close to base?"
"It's a warzone. That kind of shit happens."
"That doesn't mean I have to like it."
"I see, you hate pullin' the trigger."
"I'm not wimp. I just didn't come out here to kill terrorists."
"I know what this is about," Herring stopped the Sergeant Major. "This is really 'bout your girl, isn't it?"
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"She's one of those worryin' types, ain't she?"
"I'm not going to discuss this with you," Booth said through gritted teeth.
"Fine by me boss."
Second Lieutenant Randal Hahn was waiting for the pair. "Excellent work. I see now why we have guys like you training Rangers. We'll debrief you two at 0800 hours tomorrow. Take a rest. Finish your lunch." Hahn and crew took the equipment from them, taking it back to the armory.
Booth walked off alone. The stress and the hot desert sun had zapped him of energy. Despite the early hour, all he wanted to do was sleep. He kicked up the dust as he went, making a beeline for the barracks. The shortest distance between two points was a line, but Bones always insisted that it was a wormhole formed by bending space. What a load of crap he thought that was.
He unlaced his boots and crashed to his bed, not even bothering to take of his sand-covered and sweet soaked clothing. Booth pulled the light blanket over him, his polka dotted and rainbow striped socks poking out. His unit liked to give him a hard time about his flashy socks, but he didn't care. Just like in the FBI how he rebelled with a garish tie and cocky belt buckle, the only way to stick it to the man in the Army was the socks.
He wondered what Bones was doing now. Was she sleeping? Working? Or had Angela and Hodgins finally arrived? She seemed enthused when she told him that they were coming to visit. Honestly, anything that made her happy made him happy. Except maybe, boring lectures from old crusty professors. He hated that crap. Oh, and foreign films too. Who wanted to go to a movie when you can't even understand what the people on screen were saying?" It was pointless as far as he was concerned.
Pushing all thoughts from his mind, Booth forced his eyes shut and awaited sweet sleep.
B&B
I'd just like to thank everyone for the support. Your reviews really keep me going. While I'm too proud to beg (I hope…), reviews do bring a smile to my face and encourage me to write faster!