Bull over a Barrel

Chapter 1

"You want me to do what?"

"Agent Booth, you want to re-evaluate that tone?"

"I'm sorry Sir, it's just, you want me to do what?"

"Agent Booth, are you hearing impaired and up until now I've been unaware of this?"

"No Sir, I'm not hearing impaired"-

"Are you refusing this assignment Agent Booth?"

"No Sir, I'm not, but, UC in Wyoming? You've got to be kidding me; there are more people in the Hoover building than the entire state of Wyoming Sir. There's got to be a reason why the Cheyenne field office can't handle this, or someone closer, like from the Billings office, Montana is a hell of a lot closer than Maryland, Sir."

"Agent Booth, did I neglect to mention that you will not be alone in this UC mission?"

"Uh…yes…umm …what Sir?"

"Agent Booth, you are in no position to 'negotiate' which cases you work and which you don't. I've emailed the case file to you and you are to be ready to head to the wild wild West at 0900 hours tomorrow, is that understood?"

"Yes Sir"

"Any other questions Agent Booth?"

"One Sir, who am I to be working with on this assignment? Well Mr. Scallion, I suggest you check your email. Good luck son."

Smiling for the first time since the phone rang Booth said, "thank you Sir"

Booth rolled over and looked at the clock. 6 AM, perfect, he had time to work out, shower, get dressed and go find out what the hell was going on, all before 8AM and the fan blades really got going for the day.

Climbing out of bed, he threw on a pair of sweats; a well worn FBI (female body inspector) T-shirt Hodgins had given him as a joke for his last birthday, his sneakers and a ball cap. This one said, Security on the front in bold yellow script. On the back, it said, "property of The Jerry Springer Show". Also a gag gift from the squints, grabbing a small can of V8, he walked out of his apartment, down the stairs to the still slumbering streets below. Pausing to stretch for a few minutes, he started off at a slow jog. This was his favorite time to run, the streets were empty, the air was cool but not cold, and if he took his time and his favorite route, he'd get to see the sunrise as it came up and over the capital building. Being an ex Army Ranger however, he varied his route almost daily as to not become repetitious.

Swearing softly, he remembered again too late that he was going to strap on the leg weights before starting his jog. It had been nearly a year since his tumor surgery and although he was slowly gaining back the weight that he'd lost, he wanted to start working on more muscle mass. He'd been looking pretty sickly about 6 months after the surgery, everyone had commented on it. He didn't want to tell them all that he'd stopped taking care of himself physically for the first time in years. He was allowing the stress from his job to overcome his natural inclinations. It wasn't that the job itself was stressful, because it was. It was more one of the components of his job that was stressful.

Checking his watch, he'd been running for about 20 minutes now, his partner should be just about ready to start her workout routine as well. Partnered now for about 6 years, they'd really built a rapport that was closer than most marriages. Of course, most marriages also included an element that they had yet to test. Booth reached up and pinched his own ear. It was starting to lose any effect it had once had on his libido. If he didn't make a move and soon, not only was he afraid he'd forget how to use it, but he was worried that he'd miss the opportunity to use it with the one person he desperately wanted to. Slowing, he rounded the one constant part of his run, no matter the route; he always ended up in the same place at almost the same time every morning. Sniper training be dammed, there was no way he was going to miss this. He'd happened upon it on accident one morning about 8 months ago when he'd started running in the mornings before his normal workout. Jogging in place, he waited for the moment, he'd had it timed almost perfectly most mornings, and sure enough, today was no exception.

The auburn hair was pulled back under a baseball cap, tight blue jogging pants, a white tank top and blue zip up hoody, unzipped and white sneakers, all of which were being worn by her. Dr. Temperance Brennan. His 'work' partner, his best friend, and unbeknownst to her but knownst to everyone else on the planet it seemed, the woman he loved. He ducked behind the large elm tree and kept her in sight. She bent completely in half and touched the ground between her feet flat with her palms, yep, there it was, the requisite tightening of his groin, then she bent over one leg, then the other, pulled each up behind her one at a time and then took off at a slow trot. Once she was around the corner, he started to follow her, always staying at least 200 yards behind her, until she crossed over the bridge, and that's where he headed back to his place, and she continued on for another 5 miles.

Bending down to stretch her leg muscles, she glanced between her legs, and yes, there he was again. Every morning now, she secretly smiled, if he knew that she knew that he jogged behind her for a mile or two every morning, he would die a little inside. Priding himself on his stealth, she didn't want to be the one to burst his bubble, but she'd known about him since the first day. Shaking her head at her partner, she started off, unlike him though, she ran with headphones on. Usually she had a lecture from some doctor or another; sometimes she varied it though and listened to an audio book from a doctor or another expert in some kind of 'ology'. Today though, she'd really gone off her norm and was listening to a Canadian rock band Angela had recommended to her. She had really liked the band from the beginning, and had downloaded all of their CD's to her iPod. She liked the way their songs were first legible, too many rock bands anymore all just screamed, and she liked how their songs were all about living life to the fullest.

She'd never been an optimist or pessimist really. Things either were or they weren't. There wasn't a cosmic oneness that explained anything; science was the explanation for everything. However, for all her rationality, her beliefs and her beloved science, there was one thing that she had no explanation for. No matter the sociological experiments she did, the rationalizing of it, nothing gave her the answer that she wanted. She wanted to know WHY she felt like she did when she was around him. Oh, she knew all the normal stuff, her physical reaction was biological, he was an alpha male, she was an alpha female, biologically they were the ones most likely to repopulate the society, they were the ones that society looked to for leaders and answers, etc, etc. However what she didn't know was why when he touched her back helping her through a door, into a car, whatever, she felt safe. Why when he didn't know that she knew he was looking at her did she feel like blushing and giggling? Why did her breasts tighten and her center turn to molten lava when she caught his scent in passing. There were physical and biological urges and all that mumbo jumbo as he would say, and then there was a horny teenager trapped in a mature woman's body, so why couldn't she explain that phenomenon?

Booth continued on his way back to his apartment, the free weights and then the shower were all completed in record time. He took his time drying off, for some reason he didn't like towels except for his hair, so he drip dried while he ate his breakfast, drank the first cup of coffee of the day and then because he never wanted to leave a dirty kitchen just in case he never came home, he tidied up. Deciding on the blue pin stripe, blue vest and grey tie, he got dressed and headed to her house to pick her up. It was just easier, they often spent most of their day together if they had an active case, if they didn't, they still went to lunch and since he felt silly showing up to crime scenes or interrogations in her silver sports car, he drove them everywhere.

She'd run longer than she'd intended and consequently was later than normal getting ready, she'd really gotten into her playlist while running, and before she knew it, 5 miles had turned to 8 and she looked at the sky and the sun was well on its way up the skyline when she'd looked at her watch. Cursing out loud, she turned and ran back to her apartment, running up the stairs instead of waiting on the elevator; she had just jumped into the shower when he knocked.

He knocked on the door and waited for a few seconds before knocking again. She never didn't answer by the second knock, instantly on the alert; he looked closely at the door, no signs of tampering, so he pulled out his key and unlocked the door. Entering, his back to the wall, gun out, finger outside the trigger guard, he silently appraised the empty room and then heard the hiss of the shower. Smiling at himself and wondering when he became so paranoid, he walked down the hall to her room, the door was open slightly and he knocked lightly to let her know he was there. The shower spray and the music pounding from the speakers made his knock virtually useless. He walked in further and the shower stopped, jumping back behind her door to the hall, he knocked louder, "Bones-don't freak out, I'm inside and I'm making coffee."

Smelling his cologne before she saw him as she stepped out of the shower she responded to his atypical greeting, "Why would I freak out because you are making coffee Booth? I assume you know how, you are a fully functioning adult correct?" she wrapped a jumbo towel around herself, and padded into her room. Smiling at him, standing in the doorway with his hand over his eyes, "Well, I didn't want you to pull out the 'cannon' and start shooting."

"No danger of that here Booth, go ahead and make the coffee, I'll be out in a second, I'm sorry I'm late, my run got away from me."

Thinking of the 'fully functioning' line and seriously doubting it after his draught he told her it was fine, they wouldn't be too late to the mandatory morning briefing.