I'm not particularly fond of this chapter, but it needed to be written before I can move on to the next one. I've discovered I don't really like writing filler chapters, so hopefully there won't be too many in this fic. Now that I've ranted, I bring you another chapter.

This chapter has spoilers for 2x13 the Girl in the Gator. Some slight Sully bashing (my favorite sport!) that is basically Brennan's first impressions of him during the case.


Chapter 5—Bad

I could tell Booth was getting frustrated while he was trying to get details from the agent on the phone. Hell, I was getting frustrated by the music because I couldn't hear what Booth was saying and he was standing right next to me. I just wanted to know where our case was sending us, but that damn ice cream truck wouldn't turn down the music.

I never expected him to lose it, though. Up to that point in our partnership, I'd never seen him lose it over something as stupid as irritating music. Serial killers and murdered children, yes, but never anything as asinine as music.

But when he pulled out his gun, I didn't even have time to react before he took three shots at the clown head. Not that I would have known what to do even if I did have time. I stared at the head of the clown, completely stunned by his actions, while he finished his phone call, completely unaware of what he had just done.

"That was NOT good," I remember telling him, watching him as realization dawned over his features. He hadn't even thought about the consequences when he shot the clown, and now I have to suffer for it.

While he got to stay in DC to see a shrink, I had to fly alone down to Florida to meet a random agent who I was being forced to work with. It took Booth and me a long time to work well together, and after working comfortably alongside him for almost two years, I don't really want to work with anyone else. He finally respects the science of what we do, and he gets along well (for the most part) with Angela, Hodgins, and Zach.

Now they expect me to break in a new agent who doesn't care about his work for the FBI, who'd rather go look at a boat than find potential witnesses. I can't believe Booth did this to me! This Sully couldn't care less about finding who killed this girl. He's more interested in boats and Philly cheese-steak sandwiches.

I talked to Booth last night and he told me that Sully lost his partner last year, but I don't think that gives him a reason to disregard the importance of his work in pursuit of more leisurely activities. He can look at a boat on his own time, not while we're on a case and supposed to be finding witnesses. It's just unprofessional and irresponsible.

Booth better get cleared and back to work soon, because I can't make any promises that I won't drop kick Sully's ass, especially if he keeps disregarding the case and keeping me from proceeding with my work on the case.

I never thought I'd miss working with Booth as much as I do right now. I've grown so accustomed to his methods and mannerisms, and we work well together because of the understanding and friendship we've established over the years. I guess I'm just so used to him always being there that it seems weird when he's not. When did I ever become so dependent on someone's mere presence?

I feel like someone who has just had a leg amputated. For days, weeks even, it can seem as if the leg is still there, and you move assuming you'll be able to put your foot down. But without the leg, there's nothing to stop you from falling. With Booth, he was always there to balance my scientific rational. We balance each other, watch out for each other, and support each other. Without Booth, I feel like I'm missing something.

For the first time since my parents left, I've grown attached to someone, and it scares me. I know he promised never to leave me, but by shooting the clown and having to be evaluated by a shrink, in essence he left me. I mean, I know it's only for a few days, but what if the shrink decides he's not fit to return to the field? As much as I love it, I don't think I could keep working in the field without him.

My phone rings on the nightstand, startling me from my thoughts. I smile when I see the caller ID, and answer it, "Hey Booth."