Hello, All! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews so far! You guys are the greatest. :D I hope you all enjoy the Tenth chapter!

NOTE: Thank you, LadyLuck523 for correcting me on the color of Cuddy's eyes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bones or House, nor am I an anthropologist or a doctor.

Chapter Ten: Aliens and Lovebirds

Alien probing. That's what surgery always reminded him of. No matter how many times that Greg House observed a surgery, he was always put in mind of little green men poking and prodding people with sticks. Or in this case, an Aussie in pale green scrubs.

House rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. Hopefully this would reveal something. If not…

The door behind him slid open with a slight whoosh. Heels clicked and clacked loudly, the sharp sound echoing off the enclosed walls. House didn't move. He knew exactly who it was. Only one person wore that particular brand of perfume. House barely restrained himself from inhaling deeply. The heels stopped next to him, causing the small booth to fall silent. Heat from her body warmed his left arm.

"How's it going, House?" Cuddy's voice was quiet.

House shrugged. "Well, we dug around the fat and found several TV remotes, a half eaten bag of potato chips and a cat." He said sarcastically. "But he's stable."

Cuddy snorted. "Well, I came to ask if you've seen the anthropologist and her partner yet. They're supposed to be back by now."

House raised an eyebrow, taking his first glance at his boss. She was looking up at him and their eyes met, blue mixing with blue-grey, ice with cloudy warmth. House quickly tore his eyes away and focused again on Chase, memories of images and sensations flying up his spinal cord. "Why would you come all the way down here just to ask me a question?" He let a slow grin slide across his face. "Did you miss me?"

Cuddy's breath left her in a whoosh. "No, House, believe me, I've had a wonderfully House-free day." She let degrading sarcasm lace her tones. "Other than those ridiculous puffed up administrators I've been meeting with all day… on top of that, I need to find Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth a holding room for their criminals." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, exhaustion setting in. "This is a hospital, not a police station." She muttered.

For a moment, the beeping of David's heart monitor was the only sound in the room. Then House sighed. "We're not in the differential room." He said, almost grudgingly, his voice so low Cuddy thought for a moment she had misheard.

She felt a slow smile spread over her face. "House… Did you just offer me your differential room?" House glanced down at the top of her head before looking down at his cane handle. He ran his thumb over the metal.

"I was just stating a fact." He grumbled. "Whether you use that fact to your advantage or not is entirely…" His words were suddenly cut off by Cuddy's hand on his arm. He stared down at it like he'd never seen a hand before.

"Thank you, House." Cuddy's voice was relieved, sincere. She squeezed his arm once, before turning and leaving the booth, her heels clacking on the floor again. House turned and watched her go, watched her dark hair swing before his eyes traveled a little further down her body…

"House?"

The beeping on the heart monitor increased, slowly at first, then faster.

"House!" House was suddenly yanked out of his reverie and stared back down into surgery. David's body was completely motionless on the table, his skin peeled back revealing what should be covered organs. Nurses were running every which way, placing silver instruments in Chase's bloody gloves. The overwhelming beep of the monitor told House that his patient had flatlined. House gripped his cane, watching his surgeon work. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck.

"Come on." He muttered, his eyes never leaving the table. "I'm not done with you yet."

There was an extended moment of disillusioned panic as Chase and his team worked to bring David back from the beyond. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the monitor sounded a very faint beep… beep… beep…

Chase looked up at him, relief clear in his eyes. House sighed. Well, damn. What the hell was wrong with his patient?

**********

Cuddy shut the door to House's differential room, holding House's white board. Brennan and Booth had arrived with a man who looked like he needed a hospital himself and proceeded right into the differential room, thanking her profusely. Cuddy slipped into House's office, leaning the white board against his desk. She placed the marker on the tray and turned to leave, accidentally bumping the desk as she did.

"Oops…" She bent low and picked up the picture frame from where it lay. She flipped it over, and felt her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. Her own face stared back at her, leaning over Wilson and House's shoulders, beaming. She dropped the picture back onto House's desk like it was on fire. She moved quickly towards the door, only pausing to glance back once. Then she hurried down the hall towards her own office, where the world made sense.

*****************

Click! The door shut behind Lisa Cuddy. Booth turned back to the table where Charlie Flugg was slumped, glaring at the table top like it had done something personal to him. Brennan slipped in behind him. "I called the local police, and they said they'd have a holding cell waiting for us when we were done."

Booth nodded and peered at Charlie. "Charlie Flugg." He began, leaning on the back of a chair. "You know why you're here, Chuck?"

Charlie glared at Booth. "Shaddup."

Booth felt his temper rise. "Charles." He began again. "I'm an FBI agent. You will answer my questions. Any idea why you're here?"

Charlie shook his head sullenly.

"Then why'd you run?"

Charlie pressed his lips together.

Booth growled. "Charlie. Why. Did. You. Run?"

Brennan made her way over to the interrogation, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Charlie's eyes slid over to her, traveling appreciatively up and down her form. "Hey." He said with a grin. "Who might you be?"

Brennan looked surprised. "Oh, my name is…"

Booth cut in. "This is Dr. Temperance Brennan, and I'm speaking to you right now, so stop checking out my partner and answer my question! Why did you run?"

Charlie ignored Booth. "So, I've got my own place down in the Bahamas… why don't you and I, we go get a drink later and discuss your visit?"

Brennan arched an eyebrow. "I have no plans to visit you, and I seriously doubt that you, with where you currently reside, have enough money to own a residence in the Bahamas."

Charlie frowned. "I wouldn't be livin' there if that damn Marylin hadn't run off with all my money."

Booth placed his hand protectively on Brennan's shoulder. "And where is Marylin now?" He asked, glaring at Charlie. He didn't like this guy. At all. Drunk, lazy, bastard, hitting on his Bones… Booth shook those thoughts from his head. She wasn't necessarily his Bones. However much he might wish otherwise.

Charlie leaned back, tilting his chair on two legs. "How the hell should I know where that bitch has gone? I'm just glad she is."

Brennan folded her hands in front of her, enjoying the warmth and weight of Booth's hand on her shoulder. "Are you aware she's dead?"

Charlie stared at her. "Marylin's… dead? Like… dead, dead?"

Booth slid a picture of Marylin's body across the table, leaning over Brennan to do so, his tie slipping down from his sport coat and falling onto her lap. Brennan looked down at it… red today. It matched his Where's Waldo socks, she noticed.

Charlie swore loudly. "Damn! She owes me money!"

Booth removed his hand from Brennan's shoulder reluctantly and sat down in the chair next to her. "Well, now we're getting somewhere. Why don't you start from the beginning?"

Charlie ran his hand through his hair. "I dated Marylin for six months… thought she was pretty great. I mean…" He let his chair drop back onto the floor with a thud and winked at Brennan. "All that hiking made her phenomenal in bed."

Booth grabbed Charlie's chin and forced his head away from his partner. "Keep going, buddy."

Charlie wrenched out of Booth's grasp. "Well, all is well and good, until suddenly she shows up on my doorstep and asks for three thousand dollars. I mean, look at me. I don't have that kinda dough. But I give it to her. Why? Cause I'm a nice guy. Not her, though. I never heard from her again."

Brennan's phone buzzed and she slid out from the table, slipping out of the room.

When she was gone, Booth leaned forward on the table. "So then, Chaz, I just got one more question for you." He looked into Charlie's eyes. "Why'd you kill her?"

Charlie jumped to his feet. "Hey, man, I didn't kill her!"

Booth leaned back in his chair, still outwardly calm. "Here's what I think happened. You and Marylin had a fight about the money; you lost your temper…"

"No!"

"…and killed her…"

"No!"

"… and then buried her in the woods!" Booth slammed his hand on the table, standing up to be face-to-face with Charlie.

"No!" Charlie shook his head, panic clear in his gaze. "I don't know who told you that, but I didn't kill Marylin. I couldn't kill anyone!"

Brennan re-entered the room, tucking her phone back into her pocket. "Mr. Flugg, where were you four days ago?"

Charlie's eyes flew to her. "Why does it matter?"

Brennan glanced at Booth. "That's the day Marylin was killed. Cam got the results on the flesh I sent her."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "How did… You sent Cam a box of human flesh? In the mail? What'd you use, FedEx?"

Brennan nodded seriously. "Yes." She turned back to Charlie. "So you're location?"

Charlie frowned. "I was bowling. With some guys from the trailer park. Go ahead, check if you don't believe me. Tons of people saw me."

Booth stood up. "You know what? I think we will. Thanks, Chaz. We'll be right back." He spun Brennan around and steered her out of the room. They walked into the hallway, locking the door to the room behind them. Booth met Brennan's eyes. "I think he's telling the truth."

Brennan arched an eyebrow. "Your gut, again?"

"You know what, Bones, you have your bones, and I have my gut. And it's telling me that Chuck in there is telling the truth about not killing Marylin."

"What about the money?"

Booth sighed. "I don't know what to make of that one. From what I've heard about Marylin, she doesn't seem the type to steal three thousand dollars from her boyfriend."

Brennan placed her hand on her partner's shoulder. "Don't worry, Booth. We'll figure this out." She smiled at him. "We always do."

Booth placed his hand over hers. Damn, but he wished that he'd never drawn that line in their relationship. What wouldn't he give to lean over and take her head in his hand…

"Hey, lovebirds! There's a minimum of eight inches between all men and women rule in this hospital!" House's cane slammed into the wall between the partners, jerking both out of their thoughtful reveries.

Brennan flushed, but whether it was with anger, or embarrassment, it was difficult to tell. "Please, Dr. House, mind your own business."

House tilted his cane over his shoulder and grinned at her. "Sure thing, Dr. Brennan. Just remember the rule. After all…" He tapped the glass window of his office. "I'll be watching." He spun on his heel and walked away, whistling cheerily.

Brennan glared after him. "That man, Booth. He's so rude!"

Booth nodded, not looking at his irate partner. "Come on, Bones, don't let him get under your skin." He placed his hand on Brennan's lower back, sending thrills up both their spines. "We've got a case to solve."

Ick, I'm not sure how I feel about this ending... please please review!

xoxo

Allie