Note: Two more parts to go by my commercial count. I'm really appreciating the continued support in your comments. The fact that you're all keeping it up is helping me stick to my "next new episode" deadline. So. Thanks!
Also, shout out to AmandaFriend who kindly pointed out that Zack definitely wasn't boiling the bones in acid. Clearly. Brennan would have taken that bat to him if he so much as breathed on the Bones after eating something as acidic as salad dressing. Ange was being dramatic. BUT I really do appreciate the fact checking. I'm a writing who really hates to, well, get stuff wrong. So, if in any of my stories, you come across something that doesn't gel with you, definitely point it out. Thanks AF!
[5] The Murder Man
Well. I'd tell Booth I was right but it looks like Caroline the Lawyer spent the commercial break already warming up. He spent it A) driving over from the crime scene, then having to B) find a parking space in D.C. and then immediately C) getting chewed out upon returning to the bullpen. So it's understandable that he looks really unhappy. Though, that could also have to do with the fact that D) Caroline is attached to him like a Remora, and a really mean and feisty Remora or that E) she says he has to fire Brennan.
Right. I'm thinking the answer's E. Mostly.
Caroline calls him unrighteously cute and he assumes that's a compliment but he still not entirely sure and she's already moved on, alluding that Brennan's made him stray from good FBI procedure. And it doesn't even help that he's wearing the black socks, tie, and belt because he's not quite that guy yet, the one who usually doesn't. Brennan made him a rebel before he looked the part.
"It's not like that," says he.
"Of course it is!" says she. "Watching you together is like being at prom. But this is not high school, Booth!"
He nods, like, "Ooooooh right!" Which is hilarious. But I think he must be thinking, "What. The. Fudgsicle." Really. What the hell kind of prom did Caroline go to? One where each guy brought two dates, both of whom mostly just stayed silent when they weren't showing flip books or fighting just to get a civil introduction? Maybe. It could explain a lot.
"The beautiful scientist is fired! She just doesn't know it yet." Yeah. So Booth knows this thing about Brennan and it's kind of a big thing, it'll kind of change her life a little. But he doesn't know how to tell her and he doesn't think she's ready. So he'll sit on it for a while.
"Get her drunk first," suggests Caroline. So I guess she's still on the prom thing. And that'll last a few more years until she gets it of her system by way of mistletoe.
At the lab the squints are squinting at a skull. Zack whips out a telescoping pointer like he's the teacher all of a sudden. "I've been developing a chart of equivalencies," says Professor Addy. And he's bright and upbeat, there's this funky little rhythm to the way he's talking, like he's going to break into a mnemonic jiggle about deadly force. Sing it kids: "All-i-gator-bites have been mea-sured at two-thousand pounds-of-force …."
According to Zack's research (and Ms. Frizzle would be really proud here) whatever killed Gemma bit with a force somewhere between the capabilities of a human and a chimpanzee. Brennan's finally all upset that they boiled the bones in the giant vat of acid. There are two problems I see here: 1) Her concern is over evidence in the flesh instead of all the blatant not-wearing-of-goggles that was going on and 2) the giant vat of acid has once again become a huge distraction. I mean she completely neglects the fact that Gemma was killed by some mysterious thing that's between a human and a chimpanzee. Gemma was killed by the missing link! Big Foot murdered Gemma!
Zack does Constipated Skeptical Face about evidence in the flesh. He hates paradigm shifts, our Zack does.
"We must adapt!" Brennan declares.
"Could I help?" I ask from the door. I can already see how that would have gone for them. This scene calls for a real magician.
I suggest that Gemma's head got slammed. You know, rather than bitten by Big Foot.
A door doesn't fit, Brennan points out because doors crush whole skulls and not just selected skull parts. "What if there were some kind of protuberance?" I suggest. A bolt maybe.
Zack says, "What? Like a sliding door."
"I don't know," I tell him. "I'm an artist." Conveniently, that excuse covers all sins. Like now. It explains why I can casually toss around words like 'protuberance' in conversation and still be baffled by the idea of a sliding door. It's because I'm an artist. Obviously.
Brennan suggests a car trunk and Zack does the math. It's like he has super powers. Seriously, Zack should have a math-doing theme song of his own. Really, it would increase the awesome about ten-fold. Plus, the theme song could be cleverly dropped into a minor key when Zack goes all serial killer.
Just for fun I give Zack a little math problem: "Can. God. Create a bigger rock. Than He can roll?" And Zack's utterly gob-smacked because that's definitely not a math problem and obviously he never took the time to read any amateur philosophy scribbled inside a college bathroom stall or he'd already be familiar with the question.
The next scene starts with a pool table and uh oh! You just know there's going to be trouble! which starts with T which rhymes with P which stands for pool. Except Brennan and Booth are perched on bar stools distinctly past the pool table. He made it past them without playing to sit with her. That's something. So maybe it'll just mean 'trouble.' No exclamation point.
"Drink up," says Booth. There's a bottle of tequila sitting between them. See above, re:trouble.
Booth exhales hard, either because he's a big wuss and is really suffering without some salt and lime training wheels or because Brennan's talking about the case and he's thinking about how he has to fire her. I'm not sure on this one. It could go either way.
Booth bans talking about the case. And, wow, they've made it, like, half way through that bottle already. Which is why Booth's kind of reeling on his stool a little when he draws her attention to his tie. On the surface it's not that different. It's a muted red with some intermittent splotches. But underneath there's this saucy little pin-up girl dangling a sweater. Oh yeah, she's got moxie.
"I am declaring my individuality," he says. "I am going rogue." That clarification was kind of him since she was probably wondering why he was conspiratorially showing her the underside of his tie. And the tie makes the most sense really because apparently, Cocky belt buckles are kind of rare and Booth probably hasn't had time yet to find someone who carries those stripy, girly socks in his size.
"You have gone rogue," Brennan says, leaning in to supervise the pouring of the next shot.
Booth's impressed that she can hold her liquor. They salute the Bhang, the delightful fermented cannabis beverage, Brennan drank as a grad student. Booth's laughing, totally picturing her as a young, fermented cannabis lush. He doesn't know that Bhang's all about spiritual ecstasy.
"You're fired," he says adoringly, leaning on the bar. There are stars in his eyes.
She thinks it's because of the Bhang, like she's getting fired for an attempt at ecstasy. But it was only in pursuit of scholarly research! She never quite got there, it always broke first, always went smash. But she tried it enough times to build up a tolerance. Tried the same thing, again and again, hoping for a different outcome. "Why am I fired?" she asks like 'fired' is a state of being and one she struggles with almost as much as ecstasy.
Booth reminds her about that transient Judge-punching phase she went through. Which, though hot, definitely makes her fired.
So they drink again. Medicating instead of celebrating this time.
It's tequila, not Bhang, but for the moment it'll stand in just fine, give them permission to make an attempt at ecstasy. She recognizes the familiar build of it, the long, deliciously tortured climb toward bliss. She's been here before. Tried it again and again. And that's the definition of insanity but she's feeling a little insane to tonight so:
Brennan beckons him closer, making him come with just a finger. (Yeah. I'd say you have a dirty mind but it's just that kind of scene. So you get a pass. I'll take one too.) Brennan whispers, "If we don't work together anymore, we can have sex." Wow. Right to the point. She does not get a pass.
"I'll call a cab," Booth says in this almost choked voice. There's suddenly less oxygen between them. He's utterly thunderstruck, halfway to ecstasy already.
Yeah, Booth, say hello to the rest of us.
Outside it's confession time. Booth has the floor but Brennan steals it. She thinks he's concerned about being a descendent of that other Booth.
And we're like, yes, Sweetie, most people make impassioned confessions about their heritage before embarking on drunken hook ups.
But Booth's actually pretty concerned about it. Booth's the kind of guy who's guilty about a lot of things. And that's part of his whole addiction. When the stakes are high, you're not thinking about being related to a guy who shot someone and how that's part of you or about being the guy who shot a lot of someones and how that's most of you. But to get to that bar stool with her he walked right past a pool table without playing. It was a kind of triumph, really, but now that old guilt is kicking in.
So he says, "I have a gambling problem but I'm dealing with it." He says it with this kind of awful hopefulness. He knows it might be the deal breaker. He's not dealing with it but he wants to. Finally. This is his most important day. His first day clean (though definitely not sober). This is what she does to him:
Hi, my name is Seeley and I'm an addict.
Hi, Seeley!
Brennan doesn't really get it yet. What she does to him. She's caught up in the build of it all. So she's half wondering and half flirting when she asks, "Why did you feel like you had to tell me that?"
"I don't know. I just feel like … this is going somewhere." And we already know a lot about Booth and his feelings.
And their voices are doing that sinking thing to balance the build. It's that thing that pulls another person toward you and it's why he feels like this is going somewhere.
He says, "I just feel like … I'm going to kiss you."
So he does. She kisses him back. And we've wondered what this would look like for so long long that we're not at all surprised that it's one of those kisses. One that's not quite like any before it. One that just builds and builds and it's so good, so complete that you finally stop caring if it goes somewhere.
"You kissed," Sweets interrupts with hands that say, "Whoa!" It's like a prelude to a smash.
"Yes," Booth says, trying to break it to him easy and trying to overcome his annoyance that Sweets used a word as simple as 'kiss' for that thing that happened between them.
"There was tongue contact," Brennan says. Which is her way of saying, it was so much more than a kiss.
If there was a wall handy, Sweets would run into it. As things stand, is eyes just roll up in his head and he sits. "My book is crap!" (Well, honey, Gordon Wyatt already told you that.)
"Well that's why we wanted to come here today," Brennan says. We didn't want to get any on us.
"How long did this affair last?" Sweets asks, still woozy.
Booth and Brennan look at each other and, guys, there's this gleam in their eyes. We'd believe anything about them right now. We'd believe there was an affair, that it was still going on, that they're secretly married and looking at real estate in the Yukon Territory. And Sweets is right there with us. In fact, he's wondering about the best time of year to visit Canada.
"Should we tell him?"
"Yes!" Wait, was that Sweets or did my voice just go a little masculine?
So it's back to the kissing, back to the place we paused on the way to ecstasy. They're smiling while they hold each other, they can't help it. It's all building, again and again.
Then the cab honks. Like a bell in a college. It doesn't belong there. It tells us something important's happened but it's time to go home.
Brennan walks away from him. They're still both smiling adorably when he says, "Wow" and she says, "We are not spending the night together."
"Of course we are! Why?"
"Tequila!" She says. Bhang! She's only ever had a scholarly interest in ecstasy. It builds and builds and then goes smash. Every time. And maybe she's not really on board for insanity.
He tries to joke with her at the cab window. He wants to know if she thinks he'll regret her in the morning.
"That would never happen," she says and waves good-bye. And she's right. Was right. In the past. Back then before it meant that much to them. She was right.
So. He's in trouble. Which starts with T and rhymes with P which stands for ….
But she goes home and so does he.
He doesn't know what else to do. They were half way to ecstasy and now he's half way to heart break. It's neither one nor the other.
But it will be.
Before the end. It will be.