Lancelot

I'm back, children! Or at least I think I am. (did anyone miss me? Maybe you shouldn't answer that!) This week's ep seemed to have inspired me after the long dry spell that was seasons 5, 6, and 7 (well, 7 was excellent, but the fanfic muse buried herself so far away that I thought she was gone altogether).

This little piece came about from a discussion with my husband after we watched it and a lot of conferring with my old partner in crime, Robert Modean.

Anyway, let me state for the record that I do not own these characters or the show—never have, never will.


"So, Sweets, where's Agent Sparling?" Angela asked after her third Cosmopolitan. The team had decided to postpone their usual celebration drink in the case of the mixed-up twins until the weekend in deference both to the new parents' schedules and Sweets being wounded. "She should have come. Did you ask her?"

Sweets' neck turned dull red and he hastily gulped at his own drink (club soda with a twist, doctor's orders), wishing it was something stronger, but he muttered something non-committal. The artist laughed knowingly, rolling her eyes at Brennan who arched an eyebrow at her best friend questioningly.

"When'd you say Daisy was due back?" Booth asked, taking pity on him. "And did you ever find her a gift?"

"Tomorrow, Booth," Brennan said before Sweets could answer. "And why would I get her a gift?"

"No, Bones—Sweets. He was going to buy Daisy a gift."

"Booth's right, Dr Brennan, I was going to buy her something—to surprise her when she got back," Sweets explained. "But yeah, she's due back tomorrow. When she heard about my getting shot, she was all for flying right back. But I convinced her to not cut her visit with her parents short."

Angela snortled into her drink.

"Especially with the concerns about flying these days," Brennan said understandingly. "The TSA is quite suspicious of people who change their flight plans on short notice or buy a ticket right before the flight."

"So what'd you get her, Sweets?" Angela asked, eyes gleaming.

"Oh—ah—just a little fantasy figurine. Knight and dragon, you know the sort of thing. She collects them."

"Don't ever move in with her, Sweets," Booth said. "God only knows what would happen if her fantasy statues started mating with your action figures!"

Sweets' flush deepened. "Many people have some sort of collection, you know. Ceramic shoes or stamps or, or…dolphin figurines!"

"Or glass dragons. It seems Daisy is quite the fan of that sort of thing," Cam observed. "Remember her reaction over that Prince Charmington doll last year?"

Brennan, Hodgins, and Angela rolled their eyes. "You are correct, Dr Sweets. It is not uncommon for people of a certain maturity level to collect such things. Why, even I had a collection of turtle figurines when I was a child," Brennan noted.

Hodgins suddenly started to laugh. "Daisy does have a thing for that. What is it she call you, Sweets?"

"Lance-alot," Angela singsonged and Hodgins muffled a guffaw. "Daisy's own perfect knight!"

Sweets squirmed on his chair and even Cam was fighting back laughter.

"Actually," Booth said quietly, "Sweets is no Lancelot."

The laughter died off slowly as they all turned to look at him. Booth leaned back in the chair, relaxed, idly turning his empty shot glass back and forth.

"You don't have to insult the boy, Seeley," Cam said sharply.

"Actually, I'm not, Camille. It's Daisy who's been damning him with faint praise. I thought even squinty types had to take English lit in school, but guess I'm wrong." He shrugged and signaled the server for another round.

"You can't leave us hanging like that, Booth," Angela protested.

"While I have always thought the nickname was somewhat overdone, my recollection from school of Lancelot du Lac was positive," Brennan added thoughtfully. "That he was 'the mightiest knight upon life,' I believe the term was, and that his fellow knights held him in high esteem."

"True," Booth admitted. "He was a mighty warrior, unsurpassed in skill at arms, even catching a glimpse of the Grail, too. But he was ultimately part of the reason Camelot fell. Galahad was the perfect knight—and you're not exactly Galahad either, kid," he added. "After all, you're getting some."

At that, the flush ran all the way up Sweet's face. "Thanks, Booth—I think."

Hodgins chuckled. Booth grinned as he continued, "Lancelot and Guinevere contributed to the fall of Camelot by having an affair. That was one of the reasons he couldn't do more than catch a peek at the Grail. You're not like that, Sweets. You have too much honor, too much integrity, to do that to anyone. I may not agree with your thinking all the time, but you do try to stay on the right path." He clinked his newly refilled glass against Sweets'. "One of the reasons I can let you have my back."

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"I was thinking, Booth," Brennan said solemnly as they walked back towards the SUV.

"Alert the media—Dr Temperance Brennan has been thinking," Booth joked, but at her look of scorn, quickly regained his composure. "Okay, Bones, what were you thinking about?"

"About the conversation about the Knights of the Round Table earlier this evening. While I am not sure which knight would truly be a representative of Sweets, I believe I have determined who yours would be, Booth."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really? Should I be worried?"

"I don't think so. After much deliberation, I have decided Gawain would be the only truly appropriate choice. He is strong and courteous, and takes his promises seriously. He has great loyalty to his family and his friends and is even willing to sacrifice himself for them." Booth blushed, visible even in the streetlights' glare. "And most importantly to me, of course—are you familiar with the tale of the Loathly Lady?"

"Sure. Gawain gets promised to a hideous woman who has the answer he—or Arthur, depending on the version—needs to the question: 'what do women really want?' All is saved by her help and they have a wedding. In private she tells him that she can beautiful half the time and hideous the rest. Would he prefer her to beautiful when it was just them or out in the eyes of the world? He can't decide and defers to her, which breaks the spell she's under and she's beautiful, faithful, and true all of the time."

"Because what women desire is sovereignty," she finished, smiling.

"But…you are beautiful, Bones—I've always thought so—and you're wildly independent; so how does this apply to you?"

"Because, like Gawain, you let yourself see there was more to me than my façade and then you let me be who I am," she said simply.

"Why, thank you, Bones. I'm flattered." He slung an arm over her shoulder as they walked. "So if I'm Gawain, then you must be…hmmm, not Guinevere, of course; not Isolde; definitely not Elaine. Ha—you're the Lady of the Lake!"

"But, Booth—"

"No, hear me out. She is a lady of grace, with esoteric knowledge available to her, she aids Arthur's knights in their noble quests, not to mention keeps them on track, and lastly, she gave Arthur his greatest weapon, Excalibur. You do that, Bones—you keep the investigation on track, you have the knowledge, and you give us the weapons that help us arrest the right person."

This time, she laughed softly. "I've never thought much of the Lady of the Lake." She squeezed his hand lightly. "Personally, I rather identified with Morgan la Fey!"

Booth looked askance at Brennan while her lips twisted into a mischievous smile. With a shake of his head and a throaty laugh he pulled her tighter against his side. "Only you, Bones, only you."


snortle—to laugh, choke, or chortle while taking a drink (yes, it's my word. Please send me a nickel every time you use it, thank you! ;) )