~o~ Chapter Nine - The Silent Wings I'll Fly Away On ~o~

The pitch and roll of the deck beneath Seeley Booth's feet combines with the beat of the sun on his neck to lull him into a kind of waking trance. He leans on the warm, wooden guard rail and hangs his head over, watching glittering breakers wash out from the side of the boat. It's been less than an hour since they landed and they are on the short hop from the main island to the smaller resort that will be their home for the next five nights. He's exhausted from lack of sleep – although he did his best to catch up on the flight over – but he's more than buoyed by the fact that they're finally here; they've gotten away together. He almost can't believe it.

Bones has been gone for a little over five minutes. She left on a mission to search the small boat and find the young man she'd spotted handing out brochures. Poor kid is probably getting a grilling on exactly what they can expect from their vacation at that very moment.

Booth doesn't know what to expect, exactly, but he knows what he wants. As long as it's just him and Bones, alone in their own little hut for the rest of the week, anything else is a bonus. He turns his face to the sky, eyes closed behind his shades, and lets the sun kiss his skin, his mouth turned up in a half-smile.

A moment later and he knows Bones is behind him, even before she slides quick hands around his waist and presses her chin to his shoulder.

"I have the brochure," she tells him. "I'm glad we chose this type of vacation."

"We chose?" he laughs, turning in her arms until she effectively has him pinned against the railing. "This was my award-winning idea, if you remember?"

She chuckles. "Then you chose well. The resort is very exclusive – I don't think I paid enough attention when we were booking. We were very lucky to get such a late deal."

"Distracted were ya? Huh?" he teases, tugging her close and settling his hands at her hips. He remembers all too clearly snapping her laptop shut the moment the trip was paid for and finding very enjoyable ways to celebrate.

"A little," she agrees, with a cute grin.

"Good thing we didn't end up in some roach motel, then," he quips. Then he kisses her, smelling suntan lotion and tasting salt on her lips.

She catches his bottom lip between her teeth as he pulls away and he groans. "Do that again."

She does and watches him with heavy eyes when she pulls away. "A whole week, Booth."

"A whole week," he agrees. Then he holds her close and she tucks her head beneath his chin. She's a little shorter than he's used to in her strappy flip-flops. Her hair is warm from the sun. He grins. "Just us."

~o~

Brennan has been studying her brochure ever since she broke from Booth's embrace on the deck. Each couple gets their own luxury dwelling, known as a Hale - from, she presumes, the Hawaiian word for house. They are constructed of wood much like a log cabin, though the comparison isn't exact, as the pictures are of airy rooms with expensive linens, and wide windows, open to the ocean-view.

Now, Booth stands beside her on deck as the boat bobs into dock and raises his hand to point. "Look, wonder which hut is ours?"

Brennan has tried to argue against his terminology ever since they booked the trip and, now armed with the aforementioned brochure definition, she is even more passionate that he get it right, which – predictably – brings a softly bemused smile to his face. He remains unmoved, declaring that if it looks like a hut and it smells like a hut, then it's a hut. It is unclear to her how he'd smell them from this distance, or where he'd have garnered knowledge of the unique smell 'hut' to compare them to, but - as with many of his quirkier turns of phrase - she lets it slide.

Instead, she follows his gaze. There's a string of the squat little buildings along the gently-sloping, white-sand beach, and she too is trying to guess which they have been allocated as they wait for the boat to be moored.

She flips the last glossy page of the brochure and finds that the back pages are given over to the various excursions guests are able to purchase. Her eyes linger on a brightly colored banner advertising shark trips and she swallows tightly, flipping the book shut.

"Anything exciting?" Booth asks, nudging her arm with his. His skin is warm.

"We're here," she says in answer, leading the way to the disembarking point.

After a precarious walk up the short plank to the dock they join the others making their way to the reception area. They wait their turn in line and Booth entertains her by whispering funny observations about their fellow guests in her ear.

At the desk they are greeted by a cheerful woman with glossy red curls and incredibly pale skin that looks like it would be susceptible to burning by the sun.

"I'm Sierra," she chirps. "I'm your manager and will be here if you need anything throughout your stay."

"You are not a native of this area," Brennan informs her.

"Bones!" Booth hisses, as the woman says, "That's correct. My father owns the resort."

Brennan nods. "We have booked a room. The name is Brennan."

Sierra consults her computer. "Oh yes," she says. "I have some good news and some bad news." She chuckles. "Which would you like first?"

Brennan asks, "Why would I have a preference?" at the same time as Booth says, "The bad."

She glances behind her but defers to him when he shrugs. "The bad," she agrees, with a certain resignation.

"Well, the bad news is that the original Hale you were allocated is no longer available."

"Why not?" Brennan asks, even as she raises a triumphant eyebrow at Booth and his 'hut'.

"The full story involves a jet ski and the demolition of one of the supporting walls," Sierra tells them, in a hushed voice.

"Wow," Booth responds.

"But do not fear," the manager pushes on, brightly. "As a result of a last minute cancellation we have upgraded you to the ultimate luxury of our Honeymoon Hale at no extra charge."

Brennan feels an immediate surge of a familiar, unwanted fear. They are only a few weeks into what she has accepted and embraced as the most important relationship she's ever had. She knows they are strong and has no doubt that she made the right decision in being with Booth – the only decision she was capable of making after those terrible weeks where she felt like she was losing him. He is the only thing that has felt completely right in a long time. She knows all this, and most of the time she finds herself more at ease with this change between them than she ever thought possible. However, there are occasions such as this one, where she feels all those old doubts and long-ingrained fears keenly. Coming away with him is a big deal – as much as she has been looking forward to it. She wonders if spending the week in a dwelling meant for the newly-married may be a little too much. She is reminded sharply of Angela's postulation that there are several defined stages to a relationship, and wracks her impressive brain trying to remember which stage going on vacation together signifies. She must remember to ask her friend when they return home.

Brennan is still formulating a response to the woman's words when, to her surprise, Booth starts spluttering an objection of his own, saying things like, 'But we're not married' and 'It wouldn't be right.'

She takes an odd kind of comfort in his unease. Not in a mean-spirited way, but because it shows her that she is not carrying the burden alone. She is sure that his protests are motivated, not by his own discomfort, but by his fear that she might be overwhelmed, that she might pull away from this – from them – if it all becomes too much, too fast.

In the past, she acknowledges, he would have been right to worry – and she can hardly blame him after everything they have gone through to arrive at this point. She examines the facts. She still feels the fear. The difference is she recognizes it for what it is – and more importantly what it isn't (like the end of the world). In this way she is able to calm herself. It's almost like paying a kind of attention to them – arguing her case and presenting the evidence that supports, if not Booth's idea of a forever love, then hers of the day-by-day.

She is learning to move past her fears, though not before carefully labeling and cataloguing them; filing them in order of importance. She finds this easiest when they are a fear shared, such as now, and Booth's completely over-the-top reaction to the suggestion that they accept the offer of the best dwelling available even makes her chuckle.

"What? Why are you laughing?" he asks, a frown on his handsome face.

"Booth," she soothes, pressing a hand to his arm. "It's okay."

"Bones," he replies, pulling her to the side a step. "Everyone is gonna assume we just got married if we stay in that hut. Everywhere we go they'll be pushing extra drinks at us and asking about the ceremony."

Brennan shrugs. "What's wrong with extra drinks?"

He stares at her for a long moment. "You don't mind if people think we just got married?"

"If you would prefer we can inform anyone who gets the wrong idea that we have merely received an upgrade due to a motorized water sports activity gone awry," she says, with a smirk. "But it might be kind of fun."

With that she turns back to the desk to complete checking in, and misses the impressive jaw drop taking place behind her.

~o~

Booth is blown away; their hut really is sweet. It's bigger than all the others on the beach and best of all it's at the far end, with a big old gap between them and next door. He tips the guy that helped carry their bags and shuts the door behind him as Bones makes quick work of checking out all the rooms that run off the main space, which is even more light and airy than Bones' beloved brochure led them to believe.

The floors are polished dark-wood and there are strips of some kind of long, gauzy material at the windows which stir in the sultry breeze moving through the place. Running from room-to-room, his partner is like a kid in a candy store and he smiles warmly as she skips back through the last doorway.

"The bedroom has a terrace that overlooks the ocean," she tells him, eyes alight.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." She takes his hand and tugs. "I would like to have sex out there."

His stomach flips, in equal parts surprise and arousal. He pulls her to a stop. "What, now?"

"We haven't yet had the opportunity to do so outdoors."

Gimme a chance, Bones, he thinks. But what he says is, "We just got here!"

Her smile falls a little as she switches to 'thoughtful'. "Would it help if I rephrased?" she asks, stroking her thumb against the inside of his wrist, something which always drives him wild, for no reason he can fathom, besides it being her doing it. "I've found you most receptive if I ask that you make love to-"

"Bones! It's not – look, just for the record, I'm always receptive," he near growls, tugging her against him, gratified when she smiles breathlessly. "You just took me by surprise, we haven't even unpacked – no, don't do that," he laughs, as she pouts.

She tips her head to the side and pushes a finger into the muscles of his stomach, which he tenses reflexively. She slides it upwards slowly and before she even reaches his chest he's moved lightning fast, scooping her over his shoulder and carrying her through the door.

"You asked for it," he warns, dumping her unceremoniously on the soft outdoor couch and pinning her there with the weight of his body.

Her eyes dance with delight and desire and he tugs at her shirt as they kiss desperately, finally rolling from the couch to the warm decking of the terrace.

Bones chuckles as she settles above him, peeling off her own shirt as he watches her, lit from behind by the sun, her eyes as blue as the sky above.

"I love-" he starts, but stutters to a stop as she goes still. "I love this," he finishes quickly. "Being alone with you."

She smiles, leaning down to kiss him quickly. "Me too."

"Are you sure we can't be seen?" he squeaks, as she tugs his t-shirt over his head.

"Very sure," she breathes, reaching behind her for the clasp of her bra, her breasts straining at the simple white cotton. "We are entirely secluded."

He smiles a feral smile as she shimmies out of it and tosses it aside, cupping her as she leans over him to lick at his jaw until he turns his head and sucks her into a kiss.

"You taste like salt," he breathes, after a moment, and she smiles.

"So do you, it's the sea-spray, from the boat. And out here, can you smell it?"

He nods, entranced by the dark of her lashes as she shuts her eyes and inhales. He slides a hand up to cup her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair and the soft swell of her breast presses against his arm. She is so fucking beautiful, he thinks, how did I get to be this lucky sonofabitch?

"Can you feel it?" she murmurs.

"It?" he chuckles, totally gone on the feel and smell of her, pressing his lips to her throat.

"In the air?" she persists. "It's the high proportion of negative ions by the ocean - they cause it to… oh… it's - it's invigorating-"

He's still laughing, breathlessly. "That's it," he teases, "talk squint to me, baby, you know it gets me hot." He's only half-joking. All those years of wondering what she kept hidden under that lab coat had a certain effect on him.

She smiles wryly down at him and reaches for his hands, threading her fingers through his and leaning her weight into his palms. "Are you hot blooded, Agent Booth?"

He spins her beneath him and presses his mouth to her throat. "Check it and see," he murmurs, "got a fever of a hundred and three…"

She laughs, low in her throat. "And you're aroused by my scientific jibber-jabber?" she guesses, sliding a hand into his pants to test her hypothesis.

"I'm aroused by you." He drags a hand beneath her pretty, summer skirt and groans. "And you are so turned on right now, aren't you?"

She sighs, opening herself to him, and he forgets about any kind of talking for a long time.

~o~

Monday morning dawns in altogether too brightly and loudly a fashion for Angela Pearly-Gates Montenegro-Hodgins. But the thrill of mentally-verbalizing her new name makes up for it as she climbs the steps of the Jeffersonian, dark glasses shielding her eyes from the early morning sunshine warming her hair, and the lack of sleep and over-consumption of alcohol battering her head.

She and Jack (her husband) have decided to arrive separately this morning, to prolong the time they get to keep this to themselves. Brennan might be lousy at keeping secrets, but Angela is determined to out-perform her genius friend. The thrill of sharing something so huge with her man is just too delicious. Plus she feels the need for Brennan to be the first to know. It was her friend's revelations about finally, finally getting with Booth that had prompted the late night cab ride to Jack's place, that led to the talking into the small hours, that led to the moonlight flit to Vegas, that lead to 'Do you?' and 'I do'. A pair of them. They came in a pair. She grins as she winds through the stone corridors of the older part of the building.

Of course, now she is late and is scrambling for a suitable excuse for Cam when she bumps into Lance Sweets just outside the Medico-Legal lab.

"Angela," he says, with that toothy smile of his.

"Sweets," she replies, with a toothy smile of her own. "Here to see Daisy?"

"Uh… yes."

Angela's eyes narrow. "Or… not?"

The boy looks sheepish. "I was… wondering if you had talked to Dr Brennan, before she and Booth um… left." He looks left and right as if there might be spies around every corner.

Angela's eyebrow raises without conscious effort. She's just too full of good feelings to hide this one. "I know you know," she sings. "I know too!"

Sweets grins, but tempers his smile and clears his throat. "To be clear – you know…"

"That Booth and Brennan are an item. Together." She twists the first two fingers of her right hand together. "GF and BF."

"Oh, thank god," Sweets breathes, hustling her into a side alcove. "I've been dying to talk to someone about it!"

Angela wonders, for a brief moment, whether they are going to clasp hands and bounce on the spot in glee, and whether she might quite like to.

"They told you?" Sweets whispers.

"Brennan did."

"Wow. This is huge."

"To be fair I cornered her. But she was so happy."

Sweets grins so hard she imagines she hears his teeth cracking. "Isn't it totally awesome?"

Angela chuckles. "It really is." She watches the therapist as he near twitches with excitement. "Permission to – what is it you geeks do? Oh… squee," she adds, and is suddenly engulfed in a hug. "Easy, tiger," she squeaks, "you're a married man." And I'm a married woman, she adds silently, squeezing the life out of him in sheer delight at all the good in her world.

TBC…