As I told a friend tonight, I've decided that the actual definition of writing is 'dragging the words out of your skull'. VERY painful. Between the holidays, and some health dramas with my family, I've had neither the time or the creative impulse to write. Once again I am in the position of apologizing for the delay in posting this chapter. But I can promise you this: I WILL finish this story. It will absolutely not be left undone. To me that is unforgivable. So, if you can find it in your hearts to wait for me, there will most definitely be rewards. I hope you all had good holidays, and got to spend fun time with your families. Thanks so much for reading, and for persevering.
THE BET
No new crime happening was a good thing. Meandering aimlessly over to the mass spectrometer, Angela fiddled with the controls and swiped imaginary dust off of the casing. She knew it was good. But the problem with having nothing to do was that she had nothing to do. Casting her gaze about for Jack, she wished for the hundredth time that she could lose herself in a good landscape. But her painting had deserted her lately. Even now, the brilliant white stretch of canvas on her easel snidely taunted her every time she went in her office. She gave a brief thought to torching it and all her other supplies but refrained from following through. She just needed to stop obsessing over it – her inspiration would come back. It had to come back. If it didn't...well, she could always burn it all next week. Craning her neck, she spotted Zach on the platform and set off briskly in that direction. If Zach was there, Jack would undoubtedly be close by. And chances were that they'd be arguing, which could be a lot of fun. The two of them were extremely amusing when they bickered. They were like the full-nerd version of Booth and Brennan sometimes. Without the romance, of course. Snickering at the bizarre mental picture, she caught sight of Jack's curly head bent over the desk and mounted the stairs. "Hey, Jack."
"Angela." Glancing down at his papers one last time, Jack looked over, his eyes lighting up as she approached. "What're you up to?"
"Nothing. Zippo. A big, fat, useless and most likely non-golden goose egg. You?"
"Not much." He swiveled on his stool to face her. "Nothing special, anyway. God, what I wouldn't give for some soil samples or diatoms to analyze. Where're Brennan and Booth with the goods?"
"Done. They have enough evidence to make an arrest, but the suspect went underground. They have surveillance teams watching his home and work in case he shows up for any reason. The evidence part is finito. And they haven't gotten any new cases yet."
Hodgins heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Something'll come up – something always does. Hell, we work in Washington D.C. Even as we speak, a Republican is probably shooting a Democrat. It won't be long. Meanwhile, are we set for Filomena?"
"I've been trying to pin Bren down for another date, but no luck so far." She pouted and folded her arms. "I'll ask her again tomorrow." Catching sight of the papers and scientific-looking supplies, she frowned and moved closer, peering doubtfully down at his work. "Wait - I thought you said you had nothing to do. What is all this stuff?"
He looked dismayed for a quick moment. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm just making a Punnett Square."
"Hmm. And what exactly is a Punnett Square – or do I even want to know?"
He rolled the stool closer, sliding his hands slowly up her legs to rest on her hips. "I'm trying to determine the probability of offspring having a particular genotype."
"Oh yeah?" Throwing him a lopsided grin, she leaned down and briefly pressed her lips against his. "I have absolutely no clue what that means, Jack."
His grin only widened, gaining a particularly crafty air. "It has to do with maternal and paternal alleles. Basically...plant parents."
"Plant parents? Okay, now I'm even more confused." She glanced to her right. "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"
"Of course." Pausing in the middle of preparing a slide, Zach looked at her with mild surprise. "You don't?"
She rolled her eyes lovingly and pursed her lips. "Um...no, Zach. I don't have a clue."
"It's really quite simple. Dominant alleles mask recessive alleles, thus affecting the appearance of the offspring -"
"So, you were saying before that you're happy with the way things are going, then?" Jack interposed, shooting a glare at Zach as he hastily changed the subject. "Between Booth and Dr. B, I mean."
She dropped her hands to his shoulders. "I'm telling you, Jack, she is completely different now. Well - not completely. She's even more focused than she was before. I mean, you've seen how she's been lately."
Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he grinned. "Have I. I can barely keep up with her these days – she's working harder than she ever did before. "
"I don't understand why you aren't able to handle the workload." Zach piped up helpfully. "I don't have a problem keeping up with Dr. Brennan's requests."
"That's because you're a cybernetic being and are incapable of working human hours every day or participating in a normal conversation."
Zach stared at him and blinked, unoffended.
"Jack! Stop it! Be nice." Frowning, Angela crossed her arms and lifted a brow at him. "Yes, she is working very hard – when she's here. But she doesn't work for as many hours as she used to – and it's all for a good reason. She's leaving at a more normal time these days, either to meet Booth or because he's hot on her tail, chasing her out of here."
"Not all the time, though. She still stays late, babe."
"Yeah, but only when she has to. Big difference. And when she does, you-know-who almost always comes wandering in at some point with takeout and parks on her couch so they can leave together. It's positively domestic, Jack."
"Domestic? Really?" He raised his eyebrows as he looked up at her. "It doesn't sound very domestic to me."
"Not domestic in the traditional sense, genius. For Brennan to put up with him hanging out almost every time she works late? That he even knows which nights are her late nights? Big changes, Jack. Big."
"Ah. I don't know. You heard that fight they had yesterday."
An amused smile stretched across her face. "Well, yeah. Everybodyheard that fight yesterday. As a matter of fact, it's entirely possible that the state of Maryland heard that fight yesterday."
"So, you really think everything's fine after that?"
Her hand flapped in instant dismissal. "Oh please. That was just another one of their squabbles."
"Yeah, but it was pretty fierce, you have to admit."
"Nope, doesn't mean anything. Fights are their specialty, Jack. Sixty seconds after they stopped shouting, she was laughing at Booth's impression of the new intern in Carolyn's office. They need those fights. They need that honesty. It might kill other couples but it works for them. They both always keep everything so internalized. If they didn't go head to head, they would just gnaw on their emotions until it destroyed what they have. No, the way they've been acting lately is just about right."
"I guess whatever was bothering her before they went away is okay now, huh?"
"Umm," she replied noncommittally, turning to the computer to pull up the newest imaging program. That was the just about in their just about right. Things were back on a mostly even keel between her favorite crime-fighting duo – but nothing had actually been resolved. Although Brennan had trusted Booth enough to tell him about her past, she'd closed up tight as a bank vault afterward As far as she knew – and since Angela hadn't dared to ask Booth, that wasn't very far – she hadn't broached the subject since. And as for Booth himself...well, he appeared to be walking a razor-thin line, and seemed willing to stay there for now. She sighed as she entered her password. That meant that he probably wasn't pushing Brennan. She couldn't really blame him. He didn't have much of a choice right now. Hell, she wasn't about to bring up the subject, either. She didn't always know when to push her friend and when to wait, but she could hardly miss the No Trespassing signs all around Brennan. Booth clearly hadn't missed them. If anything, he had become more adept than her at knowing when Brennan needed advice and when she needed space. She was much too raw right now to be guided or advised or shepherded. No. Best to let things settle down a bit and then see what happened. They both needed a little time. A self-deprecating grin flirted at the corner of her mouth. She needed a little time as well – time off for good behavior. Or...nosy behavior. Or was it less nosy behavior? Shrugging, she updated the system and logged off.
"Bones!"
They all turned as a unit to see Booth jogging toward the platform. The minute he realized she wasn't among them a familiar annoyed frown appeared on his handsome face.
"She didn't answer her phone. Where is she?"
Hodgins stepped forward, eyes dancing mischievously. "I don't know, man. Around here somewhere. What's going on? Maybe I can help."
In a fraction of a second the frown morphed into a scowl. "Yeah – if I need someone to wrestle a microbe to the ground and subdue it I'll let you know. I need Bones. Where was she last?"
"Her office."
The minute the words left Jack's mouth Booth was wheeling on his heel and striding toward the offices, nearly-visible energy crackling all around him.
Hodgins swung around, smiling in satisfaction. "That was fun."
"You know, one of these days you're going to tease him too much and he's going to hurt you. And it'll be all your fault. Don't you know not to bait him when he's like that?"
"Well, he does it to us all the time – he needs a little payback now and then. You know, it just occurred to me – did you notice he never comes in here like that looking for one of us? It's always Dr. B."
"Well really, Jack. Who else would it ever be? Like a bull to the red, baby." She grinned and reached out, swinging his hand back and forth when he laced his fingers with hers. "Now, where do you want to go for dinner tonight?"
"How about the Bombay Club? Their Ajwaini Trout is out of this world." Raising her hand, he dropped a kiss on her knuckles. "We'll get a table on the patio; watch the people in Lafayette Park..."
"Ooh, that sounds good. Make it a table for three."
His easy, relaxed smile morphed into one of bemusement. "Three? "
"Yep. Zach's coming with us." Readily anticipating his impending protest, she pressed her lips to his briefly. "He doesn't get out enough. I want to break him free of the guest house - and that home lab you built - for the evening."
"What's with the sudden concern for Zach?"
"He's family." Her dark eyes twinkled warmly at him. "You have to take care of family."
"Okay, Bones, let's go, we gotta go now." Hurrying into her office, Booth pulled Brennan up from her chair and away from her desk, completely disrupting her activities. "Chop chop..."
"Booth! What are you doing?" She twisted away from him and moved to sit down again. But his hands gripped her shoulders and he spun her back before she finished her sentence.
"We got a tip on Lederson's whereabouts, we gotta get there now or we'll miss him. This is our chance, Bones, we're gonna catch this bastard." Grabbing her jacket in one hand and her upper arm in the other, he began herding her toward the door.
"Stop it, Booth!" She swatted at him, but it was like slapping at a redwood. "I have work open on my computer, I need to save it and shut down –"
"Zach!" Waving impatiently, Booth beckoned the young man over, glaring until he began moving more quickly. "Go save Bones' work and turn off her computer. We've got some bad guys to catch."
Well used to Booth's ways, Zach nodded obediently and began to move away but was brought up short by his boss' slender hand on his arm. "Yes, Dr. Brennan?"
"Please email the report on my findings regarding the Tsimshian skeleton to Dr. Elias in the Arctic Studies Center, and ensure that a hard copy is sent –"
"– in duplicate." Finishing her sentence, Zach fluttered along behind her like a kite as Booth drew her swiftly toward the exit. "I'll make sure that the report is on his desk within the hour. Will there be anything else, Dr. Brennan?"
Digging in her heels, she firmly elbowed Booth and finally won a moments' respite. "I need you to secure the bones and return them to Arctic Studies by the end of the day. This skeleton is a very important find so make sure you take them there yourself. I don't want the interns losing another sternum in transit." Satisfied that she'd given him enough instruction, she at last yielded to Booth's relentless tugging and followed him out of the lab at a brisk clip as they began an intense discussion on the case.
From their vantage point on the platform, Hodgins snorted with amusement and turned to Angela. "You're right. They're behaving completely normally."
"They are, definitely." But she wondered how long that could last. Certainly not much longer. Brennan was trying, and she was certainly much better than in the beginning, but she had a ton of old, stinky luggage to deal with. Sooner or later – most likely sooner – they would have to face it, and what they had between them. The love and the fear and the need. All of it. Hopefully they would come out in one piece – and as one unit - in the end.
"According to the surveillance team Lederson pulled up at about three-fifteen or so and parked in the back. He entered through the front door carrying a really heavy duffel bag. Once he went in he didn't come back out, and he pulled all the blinds."
"Was he driving the black Nissan?" Eyes bright, Brennan gripped the door as the Tahoe yawed wildly around a particularly tight corner. "Was he alone?"
"He appeared to be alone. But he's probably got a gun on him, and he's almost definitely expecting a fight." His intense eyes lasered to her as he spared her a glance. "This one's gonna be rough, Bones. I want you to stay in the truck."
"What?" When he didn't answer, she felt her frustration begin to rise. "I don't understand. I always come in with you. This is what we do."
"I know, but if he's as dangerous as I think he is, then it's gonna be ugly. I don't want you anywhere near this guy."
Her ire began to stir, crackling in the air between them. "Why did you even come and get me if you didn't want me to help?"
"Well, we're partners. But I don't want you to get hurt."
"I'm not some shrinking flower, Booth. I know how to take care of myself."
"Violet, Bones. Shrinking violet, okay, and I know you can handle yourself in a fight. But this could be bad and I don't want to take any chances."
"You haven't done this since the day we found Donovan Decker. Why now? This is nothing like that. It's one person, alone - "
"– and he's probably armed to the teeth. I don't want you to get hurt. I couldn't stand –" he broke off, wishing he could bite his tongue in half. The sudden rigidity of her body told him that she hadn't missed his slip.
"What?" Incredulous, she stared at him, waiting for him to repeat himself. When he didn't speak and deliberately avoided looking at her she knew she'd heard right. "Are you trying to protect me because of our relationship outside of work?" For another long moment he focused intently on the road, navigating a particularly snarled intersection. Finally he glanced over, dark eyes cutting quickly to her and away, and she knew. It was as good as a confession. "You don't have that right. I'm not helpless and you're not my guardian," she spat out, the nervous energy that flared in her finding an outlet in quick, hot anger. "The fact that we're having sex doesn't give you the right to shield me from danger."
He had to find a way out of this, and quickly. They needed to concentrate on the case, and her anger was sparking his own. "We're partners, Bones. We protect each other."
"Really? So we're partners, and that's why you brought me – and it's also why you're trying to keep me from acting like your partner. How am I supposed to protect you if you shut me away in the truck? Partnership goes both ways, Booth. You agreed to that. You agreed."
A misty red haze obscured his vision and he rounded on her furiously. "Well, what does give me the right?" How about the fact that I –" Aghast, he again bit off what he'd almost said. The siren blared rudely in the sudden silence between them, seeming to echo and mock the warning going off, too late, in his head. There was no point in cursing or yelling or further argument. There was no time. He gripped the wheel all the tighter and shot onto the Beltway, not bothering to look at her. He knew what he'd see.
"I'm going in with you."
He ignored her thick, clipped tones and fixed his eyes on the road. "Fine."
BBBBB
Booth watched the streetlights flick past the windows as he drove slowly through the night. Turning stiffly, he hazarded a quick, concerned look at his partner. She seemed to be all right physically, at least. She'd said she was fine, but sometimes it was hard to be sure. She always said she was fine. "You sure you're okay, Bones?"
Her dark head remained motionless, her attention seemingly riveted on the passing traffic. "I'm fine, Booth."
Biting off a sigh, he tried again. "Masters said he'd finish up what paperwork was left so we could take a couple of sick days. I can't say I mind – it'll be nice to take a few days off, get flat and just sleep." The faint purple shadow of a bruise on her temple drew his attention and he scrutinized her for another moment. "Maybe you should go to the doctor, get checked, you know? Just to make sure you're okay."
As he spoke she finally turned to him, her eyes black with worry and exhaustion. "I said I'm fine." Long, sooty lashes framed accusing eyes. "I'm not the one who was hit by a car."
Shit. He should've known. He'd been afraid she was still angry about their earlier argument. He took a brief moment to be grateful that he hadn't said the words. It would have been the worst possible timing, and she was still clearly not ready for them. Somewhere down the road that might cause him a world of trouble. But the scene at Lederson's house had been even hairier than he'd feared, and it had completely dominated all of their attention and energy. It was bad enough that Lederson had been loaded for bear and was far from prepared to surrender. But what had been worse was that the three other ex-cons that had been holed up in the house overnight – surprise, surprise – were also not happy to see the FBI. Fidgeting again, since his injuries were keeping him from sitting for long with any real comfort, he hastened to reassure her. "C'mon, Bones, I told you. It was just a glancing blow. I'll be a little sore for a couple of days, that's all."
"You were hit by a car."
"Yeah, but just a little bit. I'm good, I promise. Hey, even the medics said there were no serious injuries, and they gave me a full checkup on scene. Just bumps and bruises, and a little road rash." Hoping to diffuse the tension between them he grinned comfortingly over at her. Without answering she frowned and turned back to the black window, as she had so often in the past when her thoughts were weighing heavily upon her. Mood plummeting, his smile morphed into a worried, wearied grimace. Unable to help himself, he tried again. "By the way, that was pretty crazy, the way you went all karate postal on that third guy."
"The FBI surveillance on the house was completely ineffectual. There should only have been one man, not four men with weapons." She jerked to face him, a rush of heat shooting from her eyes for the first time since they'd wrapped up the collar. "And as that 'third guy' was about to fracture your skull with a tire iron, you should be glad I did it."
"Oh, believe me, I'm glad...you saved my bacon. Thanks, Bones." He waited for her to ask the inevitable Bones question. Hoped for it. But after a brief look at the cuts and bruises on him she wordlessly faced away from him again.
Several minutes later he pulled up in front of her building, bringing the truck to as gentle a halt as possible. "Okay Bones, this is your stop. You should go up and get some rest. Maybe take a long, hot bath first."
She flipped a quiet stare back to him, and he wondered at the considering light in her eyes as she studied him. Hand braced on the door handle, bags in hand, she finally spoke.
"You should come upstairs with me."
"Thanks Bones, but I just want to go home and pass out for a while. This has been one hell of a day." She was acting weird, and he didn't want to make things even more uncomfortable by asking to stay. But she clearly had other plans. He'd barely finished his sentence before she spoke again.
"Your muscles have stiffened considerably, you yawned repeatedly during the drive here, and you started to fall asleep at the last traffic light."
"What?" How could she possibly know about that, when she'd done everything but look at him the whole time? "I did not, Bones. I'm doing great. You don't need to worry about me." His cheerful grin was interrupted by yet another huge yawn, and he ended up looking at her sheepishly. "Really, I'm okay to drive."
"No." Her answer was immediate and brooked no argument. "You're tired and need rest. The most logical course of action is for you to stay and sleep here tonight."
"Bones..." Even as he opened his mouth to argue, he saw her brow wrinkle stubbornly and realized she was prepared to quarrel endlessly over this. The hell with it. He was just too tired to fight. But he could at least make it easier on her. "All right. If you're sure you don't mind, I'll just crash on the couch and drive home in the morning."
Momentarily satisfied with his compliance, she grabbed his rucksack out of the back seat and dragged it into the front. "Go ahead and park. I'll wait for you."
BBBBB
"Is that better?"
Booth carefully flexed his arm, breathing a tentative sigh of relief when his gauze-wrapped elbow only sent out a mild distress signal. "Tons better. Thanks, Bones. It's not rubbing wrong at all now."
"It's no wonder it was bothering you – the paramedic wrapped your wound in entirely the wrong way. Bandaging a joint is an extremely complex undertaking." She thrust a blue-capped bottle imperiously toward him. "You should take some painkillers. They'll help you sleep."
"Thanks, Bones," he said again, palming the pills she offered and tossing them back with a gulp of water. "But I really don't think anything could keep me awake tonight." He followed her out into to living room, awkwardly digging through his bag for his extra pair of sweats until she pushed his hand aside and fished them out herself. After a short, hot shower, he limped back in again, avoiding her gaze as he made his stiff-legged way across the room. "Shower's all yours, Bones. I'm gonna hit the sack."
"I still think you should take my bed, Booth. You're extremely sore, and your frame is much too large for you to stretch out satisfactorily. You need plenty of room in order to get comfortable. The couch may only make things worse."
"I don't care where I land as long as I can land and it's not on the floor." Booth heaved the duffel onto the floor next to the couch, carefully concealing just how badly the motion hurt. "The couch'll do me just fine, Bones." It really would, too. Even now he could feel the waves of fatigue rippling over him. He didn't dare tell her just how bad a hit the suspect's car had given him. He'd flown through the air so far that he'd had almost enough time to recite the alphabet. Landing on the grass of the side yard was the only thing that had kept his injuries from being life-threatening. Between the car, and the fact that the suspect's house had been full of very feisty accomplices, he could barely move. If she knew how much discomfort he was in he was sure he'd find himself an unwilling passenger on a fast trip to the hospital. He didn't want to go to the hospital. He didn't want to go anywhere now. He just wanted to get down.
She appeared doubtful, hesitating and scanning him carefully. "If you're sure...I could easily take the couch and be quite content."
"No. I swear, this is fine. You still have that big blue quilt?" The cushions welcomed him with open arms as he achingly lowered himself down and closed his eyes, not even waiting for her to return with the bedding. He must have dropped off instantly, because he woke to the feel of her hands gently maneuvering his head onto the pillow. "Mmm, thanks."
"You can stop thanking me now, Booth. "
"Unh-uh. Can't. Feels good." The soft cotton of the quilt whispered over him, and he dimly registered the unexpected sensation of her cool fingers dusting across his forehead. He wished it was her mouth. "Lips," he mumbled, afraid she wouldn't understand. Apparently she hadn't understood, or perhaps she hadn't heard, because she began to move away from him. Her voice sounded again, but he was fading, and although he tried to listen it all washed away as he floated off into oblivion.
"Goodnight, Booth." Swaying slightly, her body now sagging with exhaustion, she slowly made her way down the hall to the bathroom. Her customary neatness for once deserted her. Pants and shirt carelessly hit the floor and she climbed into the shower, standing for several long moments under the punishingly hot spray with one weary arm propped against the tiles. Only when the water had cooled significantly did she stir herself and step out onto the rug. Damp hair swept carelessly back behind her ears, she listlessly toweled herself dry and drew an old t-shirt over her head. To be certain Booth didn't need anything, she paused in the hallway to listen, but the apartment was silent and at long last she crawled under the covers, body twitching fitfully under mocha-colored sheets in the darkness.
Time passed. The apartment was dark and silent, the sounds of traffic on the street being filtered into nothing more than a dull rumble. No phones rang, no voices spoke. In the bedroom, she shifted restlessly and stared at the ceiling. The patterns changed; the lights and shadows constantly morphing into new and different abstract pictures. But none of them was capable of bringing forth sleep. Hands fisting, she curled on her side and dragged the sheet over her head. But a few stuffy moments later she shoved them away from her face and pulled in a big lungful of the slightly chilly air in the room. She watched the digital clock, her eyes witnessing the slow change in time. Two o'clock. Three o'clock. Somewhere in the distance a siren blared as it traversed the city. In an instant she was on her feet, slowly pacing back and forth in front of the door as if it was the gate to a nocturnal cage, and the walls barred witnesses to her passage. The cold air in the room was ignored as she circled past the too-large bed and shuttered window. Suddenly her head cocked and she waited, straining to hear something unheard. A shift in the air or perhaps a faint whisper of sound. The bedroom door brushed silently open, bumping gently against the doorstop and momentarily masking the faint sound of her halting footsteps padding down the hall.
Drifting, Booth dreamed, his mind replaying the events of the day. But in his dream when he asked her to kiss him she did, her cool lips pressing soothingly against his brow. He reveled in the sensation, knowing somehow that it wasn't real but pretending it was anyway. Her caressing mouth trembled against his jaw and something in the vulnerability of it began to rouse him. He fought the waking, wanting to continue his fantasy encounter with her. But little by little he regained awareness until he was fully awake and cognizant of his surroundings.
He could still feel her lips.
He realized that she was actually leaning over him, a slender, invisible wraith. In the blackness of the room he could only feel her, but she was everywhere. Around him, next to him. Over him. Surprised, he opened his mouth to speak but her fingertips instantly halted his words. In the deft and delicate touch of her hands was a lifetime of careful examination, now brought to bear upon him. The pads and palms that every day detected the slightest raised edges on ten-thousand year-old bones now detected him. Each increase in heat was measured, each bump and cut and bruise stroked and kissed and soothed. It was almost as if she was striving to heal him with the sheer force of her will. She was mapping his injuries in the darkness, mapping him, and he was devastated by the intimacy in her actions. Her breathing was uneven, almost ragged, but her exploration remained gentle, every contact between them erasing a throbbing ache or a stinging pain. He felt her lips again, this time against the worst of his cuts, and was almost undone by the intense sensation. It was as if he had dropped into a trance and was incapable of motion or speech, unable to do anything but feel. Feel all the things she was unable to say. Feel everything that was in her for him.
After several long moments he thought he might be able to move. He strained to touch her, finally managing to wrap his trembling arms around her and draw her to him. She sighed and settled easily against his length, melting onto him like a balm as her head nudged into the crook of his neck. With her warmth against him the aching in his body receded even further and he willingly surrendered his hold on consciousness. In the last instant before sleep overtook him the warm perfume of her body insinuated itself in his mind, twining around him just as she was twined around him. She was forever entwined around him, and he could only be glad.
His head lolled against hers, lax and limp, but his arms remained tightly laced around her waist, keeping her close even as they slept.
I really hope you enjoyed this chapter - Brennan's progress might be slow, but Booth seems to have an endless well of patience and hope when it comes to her. If you liked this and want to let me know, I'd be thrilled to hear from you. Thank you so much for your support!