Chapter 22: In Which Scooby Doo Cues The Chase Music

As always, this grew over a couple days on my computer. HA! I knew I could provoke interest with what she said; I almost didn't tell you. But of course...I did...eventually. Have fun! Review.

Sweets noticed it first, being a trained psychologist and all. Brennan had been hovering away from the group, even within the van; Cam had rejoined the party and left Hodgins and Angela – by the looks of it that Sweets could see in his rearview mirror above the steering wheel – having an intensely personal conversation. Brennan had been muttering into her phone for almost two hours now, and had insisted, quite vocally, that they all stop for lunch and no one would care if they arrived a little late back in DC.

Her phone calls had been mostly to strangers, that's all he could tell over Daisy's chatter in her high voice and Cam leaning backward in Sweets' field of vision to talk animatedly with Booth. Brennan often prefaced her calls with a "My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan," and speaking in a clinically professional tone. Sweets blinked.

"I'm sorry Daisy what was that?"

"I said Lance," she frowned, "that you missed IHOP. We passed one two blocks ago."

"Oh," he said blankly, and he looked back right as Brennan covered the edge of her phone with a hand and nodded conspiratorially at Booth. He nodded back once, a little grin lighting his otherwise somber face; a face that hadn't been lost on anyone, except maybe oblivious Daisy.

"Is IHOP okay Agent Booth? Dr. Brennan?"

"Yeah, I gotta take a leak," groaned Booth, stretching and wincing simultaneously as he pulled at his stitches. "Ugh, I'm sore from being cramped in this car."

"You shouldn't arch like that Seeley," chided Cam, "we've been over this. You'll pull something."

"How's my face?" Brennan asked worriedly to Booth, turning it for inspection. In truth, the several days in the car had completely erased her black eye. There was mild yellow bruising under one eyebrow, but no one could tell. A thin scratch on her forehead in a crescent was all the damage left from Booth's accidental clubbing. Her fat lip had also faded away to a mere weal similar to a cold sore but her stitches from the ring to the face were still starkly black. Booth took the question seriously thought, his eyes dark as he roamed her face.

"Perfect," he sighed.

"Booth," she rolled her eyes and he caught himself in the reflection of Sweets' overly amused gaze.

"I mean," he cleared his throat, "your stitches look pretty good. The rest of your face is healing up pretty…pretty nice."

Cam scratched her jaw and declined to mention she had just felt her purse hum with the vibration of a new text. Much to her astonishment several minutes after Booth's breakdown and incidentally her own, she had received a text from Dr. Lidner asking for a lunch date. When he had heard she was on a road trip, it was all Cam could do from laughing aloud as he sent her outrageous text after outrageous text trying to make her do just that.

Sweets swung the van into a u-turn watching in amusement as Angela and Hodgins neglected to follow them for another half block until they too, turned around. He pulled into the parking space with adept ease.

"Okay, IHOP in the middle of West Virginia. This should be fascinating," he began, "A complete subculture of-"

"Ice cream!" squealed his fiancé. "Oh Lance, let's split a banana split. Get it? Split the split?"

"Help me out here Bones," moaned Booth and she quickly jumped from the vehicle to thread his arm through his as he leaned heavily on her.

"You okay there big guy?" panted Hodgins as he and Angela likewise sprang from their car. "Do you want me to get the wheelchair?"

"No…"moaned Booth, but his moan became a groan of pain and he stumbled. Six people stumbled forward to help him.

"You should really use the wheelchair Booth," said Cam seriously, "and that's my professional opinion."

"You're a coroner," he shot back.

"Who went through med school," she dimpled, knowing her smile would irk him more than her temper. He scowled furiously.

"I'm not an invalid," he whispered heatedly, realizing they were drawing stares from passersby as Hodgins kicked open the folding wheelchair from the trunk of the sedan he and Angela had been driving.

"Here man, no shame in getting a new set of wheels."

"Well when you put it that way," grumbled Booth, and Brennan bent at the knees as she helped him sit.

"I feel stupid," he muttered darkly.

"You look ridiculously handsome even stupid," said Angela winking charmingly at him. He had to smile.

"Well you look especially nice to day Angela," he smiled back. She rolled her eyes.

"Ugh this outfit that I threw on in a gas station bathroom this morning? No way." Her big teeth flashed, "but I appreciate the compliment." Brennan frowned.

"How come I don't get a compliment?" she scoffed.

"Or me?" mocked Hodgins, moving to push Booth up the ramp.

"I…I got it," Brennan said edgily.

"Sure thing Dr. B," Hodgins shrugged, letting her take the handles. "If you can."

"I'm very strong," she said, "from karate practice."

"Also flexible," grunted Booth as she propelled him forward.

"Booth," she hissed beneath her breath, but they were saved for no one had heard them over the triumphant return of a frolicking Daisy.

Despite Brennan's best efforts, and while she was tall, Booth was six foot two and much heavier. With a great yell, he rolled right past her.

"I'm going to roll in to traffic!" he growled, flipping her off as he pretended to coast, hands behind his head, legs crossed.

"Booth!" shrieked the Squints as one, but Booth held up a hand.

"Guys, chill out." He expertly squeaked to a stop with a three sixty using one hand to brake the wheel. Popping a wheelie, he vigorously pumped his strong arms and rolled right back to them, screeching to a stop.

"Where did you learn to do that?" asked Daisy, wide eyed with awe.

"Eh-" shrugged Booth, "Just an old army buddy of mine he-" he trailed off. Brennan nodded.

"I met him I think," and Booth nodded.

"Yeah, that's right. I remember."

"He got hurt," she finished for him.

"Yeah." There was an awkward silence.

"That still doesn't explain your mad skills in a wheelchair-" began Sweets eagerly and Booth's face lit up with his little boy's grin.

"Oh yeah, well an old army buddy of mine – he let our unit play with his wheelchair – taught us a couple of party tricks and whatnot. Come on guys, I am more than capable of wheeling myself in."

An hour later, after a giant stack of pancakes, all of them were sitting at the booth comfortably. Angela sat next to the window, Hodgins tucked tightly next to her, and Cam next to him. The engaged couple sat across from them and Brennan sat next to Booth in a borrowed chair form another table at the end of the booth.

Brennan's phone was on the table, strategically placed next to Angela's rental car keys; it buzzed once and Brennan grabbed it, along with the car keys, as if by accident. Everyone at the table stopped conversing and looked up in shock and Booth's face broke into a smile.

"This is army ranger sniper," he crowed in a radio announcer voice, "operation Scooby Doo is a go." Brennan sprang up and grabbing the handles of Booth's wheelchair spun him around laughingly and sprinted away, pushing him as fast as they could go, leaving a group of stunned people.

"GO GO GO!" cried Booth loudly and heroically.

Immediately, Sweets and Cam, being on the end, sprang up and Brennan looked back as Booth swung open the IHOP doors.

"The chase is on!" she cried to him and Booth began rapping out some chase music.

"Hurry Daphne!" he crowed and even though Brennan was breathless with laughter as she tried to simultaneously sprint and point at the sedan with the car keys trying to unlock it, she still exclaimed,

"I don't want to be Daphne! Velma is the smart one!"

"Velma's not hot," retorted Booth, yanking open the car door's passenger side and levering himself in as quickly as he was able. Brennan couldn't respond as she ran around to the driver's side as the rest of their group rushed out, Hodgins having to pay awkwardly at the podium while the others chased them, laughingly, before Sweets realized that Booth had the keys to the van in his pocket so they couldn't follow.

Brennan screeched the sedan from its parking place while gesturing for Booth to put on his seatbelt. The wheelchair rolled half-heartedly in the middle of the street and for a moment they were too breathless with laughter watching Angela dramatically chasing it in the rearview mirror to speak.

"Well who are you then Booth?" Brennan retorted, as she expertly wove through the West Virginia streets, having memorized their destination and receiving a text from an automated website telling her when the streets were clearest. "Are you Fred?"

"Fred?" scoffed Booth, "Fred? Do I look like a fashionista to you?"

"A what?"

"My point is that Fred cared more about his hair than Daphne! Plus, my hair isn't blonde. And I wasn't in a fraternity."

"I don't recall that any of them ever went to college-"

"That's not the point Bones! The point is that I'm not the type."

"You're saying you aren't blonde…"

"Exactly!"

"You have brown hair."

"I am aware of that."

"So you are Shaggy?"

"NO! Do I look like a dead head muncher to you?"

"I don't know what that means."

"I'm not Shaggy," frowned Booth. "How could you even think-"

"There's no more characters Booth!" exclaimed Brennan. "You have to be someone."

"I'm Scooby!" he exclaimed, insulted that she hadn't guessed that first. "Duh," he added peevishly. Brennan laughed.

"Booth…"

"Bones…" he teased back. She laughed again.

There was silence for a moment.

"There's a Tom Thumb," she mused and he nodded. She took that as his approval and pulled the car into a space.

"Do you think they're mad at us?" asked Booth. Brennan shrugged.

"Probably just confused." She glanced over at Booth who was opening the door. "What are you doing?"

"Getting out," he blinked, as if stating the obvious.

"Just because we played up your pain for the wheelchair so the escape would be possible does not mean you should walk more than you have to. You should save your strength Booth." He scowled.

"Wait here," she said quickly and jumped from the car and locked him in. Furiously he banged on the window until she guiltily cracked her door open to talk to him. He made a puppy face at her.

"What? You're not going to crack the window for your dog?" Laughing, she did as he asked.

"Have fun Scooby," she waggled her eyebrows at him and disappeared into the grocery store.

Brennan was a little nonplussed to realize that 10 minutes later her total was over $100. It only made sense really. The helpful baggage clerk loaded the gigantic cookie cake, bouquet of flowers, picnic blanket, 2 liters of diet soda, a Smart Water for her, a carton of plastic forks, some strawberries because they were her favorite, a bottle of $50 wine and other necessities for a road trip.

"Would you like help out today?" he practically panted. Brennan stared past him.

"No thank you," she said distantly, frowning at Booth through the glass automatic doors. She missed the flash of acute disappointment on the clerk's face.

"Jeez, Bones, I'm burning up in here!" moaned Booth through the cracked window as soon as she got back. In chagrin she realized it had gotten rather stuffy in the car.

"Easy Booth," she laughed, opening the door and starting the car. "I got you sheeted."

"It's I got you covered – SODA!" Gleefully, Booth grabbed the 2-liter Diet Coke from between her hands and glugged part of it down.

"Easy Booth," Brennan repeated, swatting at the bottom as she started the car and began the air conditioning. She checked her phone. It had been on silent; it read that there were 6 missed calls. She smiled smugly and turned back into traffic.

"What in the world did you get?" asked Booth, unearthing a plastic wine glass.

"Picnic," she replied nonchalantly.

"This wine," choked Booth, "it's…"

"My favorite," she finished for him.

"Bones this is…"

"Well," she shrugged. "You do it for me all the time." His voice and face softened in to a wistful smile.

"So you do notice."

"Of course," she replied, stung.

"Is it because you love me?" Brennan hesitated, never at peace with her feelings.

"Booth," she began awkwardly, but Booth saved her from a confession; he knew Brennan would never be able to spout off 'I love you' like a normal person.

"I love me too," he beamed at her, and she laughed, the tension fleeing in a rush.

"You're shameless."

"Proud of it too," mumbled Booth as he held the forks between his teeth while rifling in the bag.

"Cookie cake!" he exclaimed gleefully.

"You're ruining the surprise!" she scoffed, attempting to snatch the bag from him.

"Watch the road!" he screeched.

"I'm an excellent driver!" she shouted.

"That was our turn!" he retaliated.

"You were distracting me!"

"You suck!"

"You're such a child!"

"Well fine, no wine for you."

"Give me a strawberry." Her tone was surly. With a cheeky grin, he popped the lid of the container and one into his own mouth. She swiped at the plastic.

"Stop eating them all," she whined, "those are my favorite."

"You want one?"

"Yes," she said impatiently, holding out a hand.

"Both hands on the wheel!" he barked.

"Booth!"

"I'm serious! Or no strawberries." She glowered furiously behind her sunglasses. A strawberry suddenly appeared in her vision, bobbing and weaving as his fingers held it by the leaves. She viciously tried to bite it from his grasp and he snatched it gleefully away.

"No biting," he taunted.

"Booth!"

"Bones, I'm serious…no biting…" she blushed furiously.

"You're disgusting. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"The gutter? The gutter? Bones my mind has lived there since I hit puberty."

"Men," she muttered, and made a upset strangled sound as he popped the strawberry into his mouth.

"What was that?" he mumbled around it, the juice dripping down his chin.

"That was my strawberry!"

"Want another one?" She nodded obstinately. "You going to bite me?" She shook her head obediently. A strawberry crept into her vision. Meekly she opened her mouth and he let the tip descend between her lips, tickling her with it but not quite letting her bite it. Her mouth was watering with the smell of it; her face was flushed with embarrassment, her body with lust.

"Booth," she whispered, and he slipped half of the soft red flesh into her mouth where she bit the strawberry in half. Like him, some of the juice ran from the corner. Before she could reach up and wipe it away, he had swiped it gently from her cheek…with his tongue.

She jumped in surprise.

"I've been in a car with the Squints, and surrounded by them for near on ten days now. Don't tell me you've missed this."

"It's all so new…" she said faintly, but her mouth was watering for more.

"You mean so fast?" Like clockwork he read beneath her surface. Instead of answering she opened her mouth a little wider. He obligingly twisted off the green and fed her the rest.

"Perfect timing," she laughed, after swallowing the sweet fruit. And Booth sobered up. "Don't be sad," she added quietly. "That's what the cookie cake is for."

Booth looked straight ahead but for once Brennan knew what he was going to ask.

"How did you know exactly what to say to make me get up?" She shrugged self consciously.

"It's what you would have said to me." Booth closed his eyes briefly and then opened his car door; they had been stationary for two minutes.

"You're right Bones," he said cheerfully. "I met your mother…guess it's time to meet mine."

Together they wound along the little footpath of the cemetery; Booth limping but insisting that he carry the wine.

It matched what Brennan had whispered.

I'll take you to her.

And she had.

With strawberries to boot.