DisclaimerSee previous chapter. Still not claiming any ownership to BONES, but I will own-up to being Teasy McScrewWithYou when it comes to this plot!
A/N: Thank you so much to those who continue to read and review. I love working with Booth and Brennan, even if all I do is screw with them a little! I guess I really do live up to the Teasy McScrewWithYou title, don't I? Enjoy and please, as always, let me know how I did!
"Static"
Part II
"At different stages in our lives, the signs of love may vary: dependence, attraction, contentment, worry, loyalty, grief…but at heart the source is always the same. Human beings have the rare capacity to connect with each other, against all odds." – Michael Dorris
If things had been awkward before, by the time Brennan got off the phone and Booth tried to excuse himself, it had entered the realm of the absurd. Booth nearly tripped over his own feet (not to mention his tongue) as he attempted to leave Brennan's apartment.
For her part, Brennan was only able to offer one word replies to everything he said.
"You know? I think I'll head out, its…uh…kinda lo–late…" he scrubbed his fist over his jeans nervously, backing out of her kitchen area, watching her and stumbling into the kitchen door frame all at the same time. "Thanks for the hot kis–coffee! Hot coffee…and all…"
"Okay." She watched his foot kick a potted plant near her door, and he snatched it mid-teeter, righting it with a sheepish look.
"Sorry."
"It's fine."
Still facing her, he reached behind to grab the door handle, a lopsided grin on his face. "So, see you at the lab tomorrow?"
"Yes." She still hadn't moved from where she'd hung up the phone with Angela and informed him of her request of his presence at the lab the next day.
"Okay, good."
"Good."
"See you tomorrow then." The door had been inadvertently locked when he arrived, so his smooth exit was stalled by a fumble with the handle. After his comical jabbing at the deadbolt, he grinned back at her with the door now open. "Stupid lock," he gestured.
Brennan's smile looked more like she'd been caught by paparazzi outside a male strip club. "Yeah. Forgot I locked it." Lame, Brennan.
"Yeah." His laugh sounded like a dumbstruck teenager, "Well…g'night!"
Brennan gave him a short nod, before the door closed and she plodded numbly to her couch, tossed the phone into a cushion, sat and buried her face in her hands.
"Now I understand what Murphy's Law really meant," she mumbled into her hands.
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"I don't understand." Zack Addy stated, while moving an instrument over a bleached bone in his hand, magnifier glasses perched on his nose giving him the comical look of a goggle-eyed fish. "Why didn't she spend her time off actually working on rectifying the situation with her other marriage?"
Brennan stood closely by, taking measurements of the femur of the centuries-old corpse she and the new Doctor Addy were identifying.
"I supposed she wanted to spend time with Hodgins, and not on the uncomfortable business of trying to find the man she doesn't remember marrying while vacationing with the new man she currently wants to marry." She jotted numbers down on the worksheet before her.
"You would have taken time to find the guy, Dr. Brennan," he stated offhandedly.
She frowned, cutting a look at her young colleague.
"They were near the island where she apparently went though some marriage ritual; why not take advantage of the proximity to inquire at the local magistrate's offices?"
Brennan shrugged. "Maybe she had more important things on her mind."
"Like what?" Zack glance up, his eyes enlarged through the magnifying lenses blinked like a near-sighted fly.
Brennan looked up from her page and smirked at his image just as a voice cut into their conversation.
"…Like discovering as many new and possibly dangerous places to have sex as one can on a small island with no public indecency laws." Angela strolled up onto the platform, her arms laden with colorful bags.
Jack Hodgins followed, his fair skin tinged with red from the sun. Brennan noticed something different about the pair – a relaxed happiness she would often observe in couples – one of which she, more than a few times, found herself secretly jealous.
"Okay, darling," Jack said, a furtive glance toward his boss and a sheepish smile, "They don't need a picture drawn for them about our vacation."
"Angela is an artist, so she could actually draw us that pic—OW!" Zack glared at Hodgins after receiving a sound slap up-side his head.
Brennan smiled as her best friend enveloped her in a hug. "I'm glad you're back."
"I have to admit, even with the beautiful scenery, crystal clear water and incredible drinks with enough alcohol to make you forget your name – I missed you, sweetie." Angela pulled back to look at her friend. She gave Brennan an appraising once-over, "Well you look awful. I'd have figured the case work would be down to a minimum and maybe you'd actually take a break. Stupid me."
Brennan shot her a baleful look. "Thanks, Ange."
Angela waved her off, and grabbed her hand to lead her off the platform. "Oh, you know what I mean." She led the doctor from the work platform to her office, where Brennan shrugged out of her lab coat and fairly collapsed into her desk chair. Angela moved a sack she'd already dropped off occupying the adjacent chair and sat down, watching as Brennan massaged her temples wearily.
Hodgins and Zack could be heard in the lab, already arguing over some test results and the state of Hodgins' work area (a state, which he was adamantly contending was not the way he left it). Angela smiled briefly at the boys' antics, before turning back to the matter at hand: Brennan.
"So, where's Booth?"
The name brought Brennan's head up with a snap, and an expression that could only have been guilt mixed with a little fear flitted across her features. But, she schooled her countenance to one of blithe ignorance – though she knew it hadn't been fast enough to escape her friend's eye. Angela could be scary when it came to emotional insight.
"I don't know, his office maybe?" Brennan stated mildly.
She had not slept, and truthfully, dreaded the following morning. She hadn't worked with Booth on a case outside the lab in a while. Since her father's arrest, actually. And now that she thought about it, the night before was the first time in probably two weeks that she'd spent time alone with him.
Angela's voice was annoyingly calm. "Are you avoiding him for some reason, today?"
Damn it. The woman could be positively psychic at times – and Brennan didn't even believe in that stuff!
Brennan scoffed, "Don't be silly, Ange…you know I saw him last night. Why would I be avoiding him today?"
Angela lifted a brow at her. "I don't know, you tell me, babe. Did something happen last night?" To her credit, Angela kept the usual explicit leer out of her voice that usually accompanied questions about Booth and Brennan. Her face was passive, almost disconnected, as though she were studying a painting for inner meaning.
Brennan squirmed. Lewd, lascivious, flirtatiously-explicit Angela she could handle. Shrewd, calculating Angela worried her.
"No, nothing happened. We had coffee. We talked. He left." Brennan said. "That's it."
Angela studied her friend for another moment, before lifting a corner of her mouth in a smirk. "Okay, sweetie. If you say so."
Brennan huffed, but Angela continued on, "Well, I still need his Studlyness here. I have something for him."
Brennan decided to busy her hands, so she started arranging files on her desk. "I told him you wanted to see him, but I haven't seen him this morning."
"You haven't seen him much, period. I can't believe you'd stay holed-up in this lab instead of chasing down the bad guys at Booth's side for the last few weeks!" Angela crossed her arms and raised both brows this time.
Brennan looked at her in bald surprise.
"Yeah, I heard. Kinda gets around this place when the Jeffersonian's Dynamic Duo…just… aren't so dynamic right now." Angela cocked her head to one side, accusingly.
Brennan goggled for a moment, trying to form a response. How in the hell did her and Booth's relationship become fodder for the Jeffersonian's rumor mill – or more importantly, how long had it been this way?
"I– how… I've had things to take care of here in the lab. You know Zack may be leaving on assignment in Iraq soon. I had to see about replacements! I have to finish assignments that have been sitting on the shelf for so long the evidence is probably compromised!" Brennan hadn't realized her voice was rising with her frustration. She stood and paced around her desk, "You really don't realize, do you? How much I put on hold around here to help Booth?"
Angela stood as well, arms still crossed, "I know how much getting out into the field meant to you, once upon a time. You fought your bosses and Booth's to get your famous butt out there in the field… solving crimes… working with your partner." She stressed the last word, and Brennan winced.
She knew she'd been avoiding Booth since her father's arrest, but until now, she hadn't pondered the real reason. Stupid damn psychology, for all the good it does! I've nearly sacrificed the lab to chase after Booth for so long! Maybe I need to concentrate on things here… and not on him…
Angela softened. She came to sit next to her friend on the couch. "I've never known you to make excuses, Bren. What's the real reason you've been sticking close to home? Did Booth say something, do something…?"
Brennan sighed. Suddenly she felt terribly tired. "No. I don't— … no."
Angela frowned. Her normally articulate friend stammering troubled her. After a moment, she spoke solemnly, "Booth arrested Max Keenan. He put your father away."
"So what?" Brennan bristled. "He's a criminal."
"He's your dad."
"He's a murder. He puts people close to him in danger…"
"He's still your dad, sweetie."
Brennan sat back and gave her a scornful look. "You're as bad as Booth, all of you trying to psychoanalyze things into oblivion! What? Now I'm distancing myself from Booth because subconsciously I'm mad at him?"
She couldn't believe the absurdity of the accusation. But the niggling fear in the back of her stubborn mind was – Angela might be right. Was she really mad at Booth? Is that why she'd been feeling so uncomfortable around him lately? And last night, when he almost… when we almost…
Brennan shuddered. Angela put a hand on her shoulder bracingly. "Sweetie, no one is attacking you. But you have been acting weird around Booth since the 'almost' wedding. I know he's been by here with a couple of cases, and you've begged out of going in the field with him, just doing what you could from the lab."
Brennan looked at her suspiciously. Angela read the expression and shrugged with a smug smile. "Hey… I'm Angela. I know everything."
A smile broke out across Brennan's face and Angela conceited, "And…maybe Zack has been sending Hodgins some text messages updating us on the happenings around here. For Zack to pick up on something between you and Booth, that's pretty freakin' obvious, sweetie."
A chuckled bubbled up from Brennan, and felt good despite her earlier pique. Suddenly, she needed to talk… about what had happened, about everything it seemed.
"I don't know – I don't know what to think. Everything's gotten complicated, and then he comes over to my apartment and starts talking about life, and fate…"
Angela's ears fairly perked up, "Who's fate? Yours and his? Together?"
But Brennan continued to rattle on, as if the dam had burst, "…and he can give me this look, you know? And I think he's trying to read my mind…and honestly, I think the whole concept of preconceived destiny is fictitious at best…but you know Booth, he's just so—"
"… Just so… what?" Booth ambled through her office door, hands in his pockets. His tie – garish as usual – was loosened, and he too, had an air of restless fatigue about him. The curious grin on his face faded as Brennan physically jumped in surprise at his presence.
She stood, glanced quickly at him, and then averted her eyes. He continued to watch her. Angela looked between the two partners – two friends – who couldn't seem to make eye contact with each other.
The tension in the room was palpable now, and something in the way Booth looked at his now-uncomfortable partner, seemed to shift the puzzle pieces into place in Angela's mind.
She beamed at Booth. "Just so… predictable!"
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"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." --Henri Nouwen
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Booth sauntered into Brennan's office, as Brennan perched, a safe distance away, on her table and watched him.
"Why am I predictable?" he asked Angela.
Angela, instead, walked up and threw her arms around his neck. "Sweetie, you are always predictably gorgeous! I missed your FBI booty-liciousness!"
Booth blushed a little and chuckled. "Missed you too, Angela." He returned the hug. Angela pulled away, but not before pinching his cheek for old time's sake.
Then his eyes fell back on Brennan, who was smirking at her friend's antics. They locked eyes for a few moments, a replay of the night before obviously riding the current between the connection. Booth chanced a small smile, but Brennan looked away.
"So…" Angela cut the awkward silence, "Solved many cases since I've been gone?" The question was aimed at Booth, but she was watching Brennan's reaction with interest.
Booth looked at Brennan before answering awkwardly. "Yeah. A few, I guess. I mean… a couple… right, Bones?" He looked at her pleadingly, as if this were some façade he needed her help in conjuring.
Brennan fumbled her agreement. "Yeah. A couple, I'd say… one or two…"
He jumped in, "Yeah."
Angela was looking at them like she was watching a tennis match. She huffed a laugh, sarcastically, "Awkward: party of two!"
Brennan and Booth looked at her quizzically.
"Oh geeze, you two! If I didn't know any better," she turned to find one of the bags she'd left in Brennan's office, "I'd think you two had a case of 'morning after remorse'!"
She was rummaging in the bag and missed the blush that crept up Booth's neck – even Brennan had the grace to color a bit in the cheeks.
"Nothing happened between Booth and me, Angela." Brennan's voice was harder than intended, but even though nothing had happened, she wasn't used to feeling embarrassed. Booth's blush was making it worse…and she suddenly felt like her mom had caught her making out with a boy from school. "Besides, even if it had, you of all people know the benefits to recreational sex and the release of biological–"
"Whoa!" Booth had had enough, he stepped between the women. "Angela knows, we all know… don't really need to go down that road again…"
Angela gave him a sympathetic look as she pulled two items wrapped in tissue paper out of the bag. She knew Brennan hadn't kept her sex life with Sully a secret around Booth (or anyone, for that matter) and while she could applaud the attempt her friend made at "living life big", she knew any reminder of that time made Booth more than uncomfortable.
The big lug just can't admit it, Angela thought. "Okay, moving on from sexual frustration land," – she barely stopped with Booth's indignant "Hey!" – "I have something for the both of you."
She unwrapped the smaller of the two packages.
"Oh, Angela," Brennan breathed, "It's beautiful!"
Angela held the intricately woven necklace up for her friend. Tiny turquoise jewels were entwined around several kinds of shells, each with its own luminescence. Brennan held the necklace up reverently, turning the round stones and shells over in her fingers. After a moment of studying the style and type shells within the jewelry, she looked to her friend.
Brennan raised a brow in jest. "You had this specially made, didn't you?"
Angela grinned. "Of course. You don't think that combination of shells hangs in every store in the islands, do you?"
Booth had come to stand next to his partner, looking at the necklace, then at the two women in confusion. "Okay, am I missing something here? Some little Squinty inside joke that nobody without a 300 level I.Q. could get?"
Angela mock-glared as Brennan smiled and bestowed her teacher-ly look on Booth. As she began to explain the meanings of some of the shells, a little smile tugged at Booth's mouth – he'd missed this interaction with her so much…
"… Historians and archeologists have been studying the Polynesian culture for centuries to try to understand some of the customs surrounding their jewelry," Brennan explained. "Some believe that certain shells held significant meaning and were used in everything from marriage headdresses to warrior necklaces and bracelets. Young warriors would tell a story of their battles through the type and style of embellishments they wore."
Just then, Booth reached out and touched one of the darker shells on the necklace. His hand grazed Brennan's fingers, the shudder that rippled through her made her breath hitch mid-sentence. Booth too, seemed to feel it, but didn't remove his hand.
"So, what do these particular shells mean?" he questioned softly, his eyes drinking in the soft flush on her cheeks.
Brennan swallowed, "That… that shell is murex. It's supposed to mean intelligence and poise." Gingerly she fingered another shell, their hands nearly entwined now… "This is a piece of starfish, which stands for orderliness and persistence…"
"Sound like anyone you know, Booth?" Angela had been watching the exchange between the partners with rapt attention.
She could practically feel the energy between the two – her gift was having the desired effect. Now, if she could just give Booth his gift, then beat a retreat and leave Brennan to explain all its meanings… maybe the two of them would finally get out with whatever had been pushing them apart lately.
As if suddenly realizing he wasn't alone with Brennan, Booth looked to Angela and dropped his hand. Brennan's soft skin under his sent his senses into overdrive, and now they were screaming at the loss of contact.
"Nah, doesn't sound like anyone I know at all," he joked, sharing a smile with the woman next to him.
"You really shouldn't have, Angela. I know it had to be hard to commission this." Brennan admonished.
Angela guffawed. "Oh please, Hodgins was the one who found the jeweler."
Hodgins entered on cue, "Yep. And finding all those shells on a tiny island chain with hardly any phone lines wasn't easy. The guy had to satellite phone his distributor on another island and have them flown in." At Brennan's aghast look he added quickly, "But seriously, it wasn't that big of a deal! He needed to get another shipment for a wedding anyway!"
He looked at his girlfriend. "Did you give Booth his gift?"
"Just about to," Angela handed the wrapped object to Booth while Brennan fastened the necklace around her neck.
Booth, taking the object and shaking his head, grinned and scolded jovially, "You guys! I can't believe you got me… oh wow–" he stopped, mouth open in surprise.
Set in a perfect circle of onyx glass was a rusted spear-point. The circumference of the onyx was lined with bits of exotic shells set into the black glass. The spear looked to be over a hundred years old, but Booth couldn't be sure.
He could feel Brennan leaning in near his shoulder to get a better look. His surprise at the gift gave way to the suffusion of warmth the spread out from his stomach at the feel of her pressing close to him. He caught site of her auburn hair as she leaned in to inspect the item, the smell of her shampoo…
…someone was speaking to him. Booth snapped to attention again, hoping he hadn't been caught drooling…
"Huh? Oh, yeah... this is really great you two… you shouldn't have." He returned Hodgins' and Angela's beaming smiles.
"It's a spear-point from the early eighteenth century," Angela said.
"They said it had belonged to a fierce young warrior on the island, known for his skill and precision with the spear and arrow. Kinda like an ancient sniper, picking off foes from a distance…" Hodgins offered.
"And reminded us of you," Angela filled in, giving Hodgins a look.
Booth's face grew thoughtful. "Really guys, I don't know what to say."
Angela waved him off, but Hodgins couldn't help himself. "You know, I couldn't help but laugh at the irony of giving you yet another obvious phallic symbol to add to the multitude of virile masculine icons you surround yourself with."
Oblivious to the warning looks from his girlfriend and the slow tightening of Booth's jaw, he continued, "I mean, really, dude. You drive a behemoth of a car. You wear belt buckles that could be 'hey look here!' signs…your gun is… okay, I'm not even going to touch that obvious one…"
Booth's hands were going to his hips, his eyes narrowing…
"You're in a job of blatant authority over the little guy, and–" he came up short when Angela pinched him. Suddenly he realized he'd voiced a few too many of his man-theories on Booth when he saw the larger man advancing on him somewhat.
"Yep!" Hodgins squeaked hastily. "Gotcha. You're welcome for the gift. Leaving now!" And he turned on his heel and quickly exited the office.
Angela shook her head bemusedly, "I do love the man, but sometimes he just doesn't know to quit when he's ahead."
"Uh huh," Booth grunted. He'd turned back to Brennan, who had his spear-point cradled in her hands, studying the stones and shells. She had a curiously troubled look on her face, and Booth sidled up to her side. "What's up, Bones?" he asked.
Brennan furrowed her brow, glanced up at Angela with a look Booth couldn't identify, and then sat back against her desk. Angela, for her part, nodded some unspoken answer to her friend and began to back-track out of the office.
"There's more to that gift, Booth," she said, a subtle challenge in her voice, "But I think I'll let Bren explain it to you."
The grin that lit her face as she closed the office door behind her, leaving the two bewildered partners alone together, could have rivaled any Cheshire cat.
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Booth stood for a moment, staring quizzically at the closed door before turning back to his partner.
"Okay," he said, trying to lighten the mood that seemed to have become oppressive all of a sudden, "That was weird."
Brennan didn't respond. She was running her fingers almost reverently over the spearhead and the shells incasing it.
Booth tugged at his tie, a bit nervously. He hadn't known what to expect from Brennan the morning following their little 'talk' the night before. He wasn't sure if she would stubbornly act like nothing happened, try to rationalize and lead them into some agonizingly confusing monologue on working relationships – or shut him out completely.
If he was honest, he'd admit to not really knowing where he stood with Brennan lately. She seemed to be horribly uncomfortable in his presence, and practically conjured up every lame-ass reason in the world not to go out into the field with him.
Booth missed her. More than he realized, especially after being alone with her last night. He had her all to himself for the first time in what seemed like weeks, and it had devolved into a bungling display of emotions neither of them was willing to accept or deal with.
Well, he at least, knew he was willing to deal with them. That part was glaringly evident from the way his body acted of its own accord and nearly kissed her! And it wasn't as if he could get her out of his mind when he was away from her either – a night without sleep and some embarrassing bodily reactions to Brennan invading his dreams were evidence, at least in his mind, that his partner had long since ceased to be just a friend.
Looking at her avoiding his gaze, Booth sighed frustratedly. She's shutting me out, and that's worse than any mind-numbing talk she could ever rope me into. Why does it have to be like this?
Why do you always have to screw things up with the woman you lo—
He quashed that little voice quickly. He was an adult. He could deal with these emotions, handle them… tamp them down if necessary. But he couldn't jeopardize his relationship with Bones. Especially now, since it seemed to be hanging precariously of late.
Booth scrubbed the back of his neck and swallowed. "Um, Bones?"
As if coming out of a daze she looked up at him. "Hmm? Oh, sorry… I was just thinking."
"About what?"
She gestured to the onyx disc. "This is a very special gift, Booth. Hodgins was right, this iron spearhead probably dates back to the 18th century, maybe earlier. It's very rare to find one in this condition."
Booth's heart sagged. He'd been hoping for more than just a history lesson. "Oh."
Her head cocked to the side, "But, it's the shells and stones inlaid around it that make it so…" she paused, looking into his eyes, "… meaningful."
Booth felt a tiny pull at his heartstrings – hope. "Yeah?"
Brennan moved to the couch and invited him to sit next to her. He did so, grateful that she had initiated the close contact for once.
She pointed carefully, "These scallops around the top indicate faithfulness, truth and dependability. He was a warrior that could be trusted to always do the right thing when he was needed."
Booth felt something tug harder on his heart – the warmth he'd felt the night before as Brennan opened herself to him came back in a flash flood, and it was all he could do not to grin like an idiot.
"These are pieces of conch shells," she continued, her voice lowering to an almost reverent hush. "Signs of power and leadership. He was an honorable man that people looked up to. Someone … someone a person could look to when they were vulnerable."
She wasn't looking at the spearhead any longer, instead her eyes were locked with Booth's.
"And these are called flamingo tongue."
At that, Booth smirked. "Weird name for a shell."
She smiled and looked down at the piece. "I'm surprised they actually found some of these. I had thought they were rare."
She paused and Booth desperately hoped she wasn't reverting back to scientist Brennan. She had captivated him mind and soul with her explanation of the shells – but it wasn't the history that was reeling his heart in, it was the fact that she was talking about him. Like her necklace, he knew the shells in his gift would be meaningful to him personally; he just hadn't expected them to fit so perfectly…or to sound so wonderful coming from Brennan.
Brennan, too, was momentarily dumbstruck with the significance of what she was telling Booth. She felt no unease as she realized how those meanings fit her partner like the proverbial glove. She knew all this about Booth of course; the strength of his convictions, intuitiveness and bravery endeared him to her after they learned how to deal with each other's clashing stubbornness.
It was his unfaltering sense of duty that had made him bring her father in, even if he agreed with Max Keenan's motives. His innate sense of justice and reasoning were so ingrained in his being – how could she expect him to act any differently.
It was then that Brennan realized – Angela was right. Some part of her had been mad at him. Added to it was the impending loss of Zack Addy, one of her colleagues – friends – and she had lost quite a few people close to her this year. As always, when Temperance Brennan feared loss, she pushed away. Perhaps, along with her squelched anger at her father's capture, she'd feared loosing Booth as her partner too. After all, one phone call from his boss and he'd be reassigned…
God, I'm psycho-analyzing myself now!
"Hey."
Booth's soft voice so close to her face jogged her brain back to the present. "Oh, sorry." She smiled shyly and he grinned.
"So what does that flamingo's toe mean?" He asked.
"Tongue," she corrected easily, "It means strength and courage."
She watching him grin shyly, his cheeks coloring with a self-conscious blush. It was very attractive, and Brennan laughed a little.
"I think we can safely say that Angela and Hodgins picked out a very appropriate gift." She watched the blush grow and he laughed.
"Yeah well, I was just expecting a little bobble-head hula girl to put on my dashboard." He couldn't help it. After dozens of commendations for bravery, after memos, certificates and ceremonies for all his years of service and duty – only Brennan's quiet praise of his courage or strength could make him have an 'aw shucks' moment.
Brennan decided to voice the thoughts that had been plaguing her. "Angela thinks the reason I haven't been working in the field with you lately is because I was mad at you for bringing in my father."
She handed the spearhead back to Booth, keeping her eyes lowered and her expression neutral. She heard Booth exhale a breath.
"Are you?" He questioned, his voice was tinged with hope and a little fear. He'd been waiting for her to bring up the subject of their burgeoning distance, but he hadn't really been expecting this. You took her only living parent to jail, you ass, do you really think even Bones wouldn't feel something about that?!
Brennan thought carefully about her answer. "Honestly, I don't know." She looked up to his face, and suddenly Booth could see a wave of vulnerability wash over her. "You know I don't buy into all this psychology, but I think it's logical to believe that there may be some internal reasons I've been distancing myself from you."
Booth, carefully, placed his arm one the back of the couch to turn himself to face her fully. "Bones, it's only natural for you to be a little angry with me. I mean, he is your father."
Brennan looked down at her hands in her lap. "That's not the only thing," she murmured.
When Booth leaned down, dipping his head to catch her eye, she sighed heavily. "I think I was looking for an excuse to be angry with you. If I distanced myself from the attachment of having you as a partner, then it wouldn't be as big of an emotional blow if you got called to another assignment."
He searched her expression – it was painful for her to admit these insecurities, especially after what had happened to her that year. He ached to give her some comfort – of any kind.
Then it dawned on him. Zach's letter and possible assignment to Iraq – Brennan had become attached to this hodge-podge family of squints. And now she might be losing one of them.
She was afraid to lose any part of the only stable thing in her life, so instead of letting it hurt her, she was willing to bide her time in the lab with Zack – seemingly ignoring that situation until absolutely necessary. She wasn't choosing a replacement for him and returning to the field, because she didn't want to admit she might lose another part of her close-knit family for good.
And she was pushing him away, lest they lose each other too. The weight of it all came crashing in on Booth, and he had the undeniable urge to gather her in his arms and hold on forever.
He murmured, "You haven't chosen a replacement for Zack yet, because you don't want things to change."
"Change is overrated. Sometimes, I think being static is a good thing in life, even if Fate, as you say, has other plans." She looked small, tired.
"I'm not going anywhere, Bones." Gently, he crooked a finger under her chin to lift her eyes to his. It was so comfortably familiar – reminiscent of a similar confirmation of feelings in front of the diner, what seemed like a lifetime ago. "I've always been here, and as far as I'm concerned, I always will be."
The two stared into each other's eyes, reading the silent undercurrent of emotion within. Brennan broke the silence first, taking his hand in hers and holding it tightly.
"I know you are, Booth. If there is one thing I can always count on," she paused, and then smiled slyly, "… it's your stubbornness."
He chuckled, the sound rumbling from his chest and raising goose bumps on Brennan's skin. "Yeah, right. Look who's talking."
They both laughed. Brennan looked down at their entwined hands, and started a little when Booth's thumb traced a path across her cheek, catching the tear she didn't know had escaped. She berated herself mentally for being so weak, crying for no real reason. She'd been doing that a lot lately around him…
Booth's voice was tentative and soft as he asked, "Some changes can be a good thing, can't they?"
Brennan looked up to see his face full of shy hope… and something she hadn't been expecting. Love. It nearly made her throat close up with emotion, and she had to swallow the lump. Fear tickled her psyche…fear of the ramifications, fear of what he was asking of her.
Booth seemed to sense her trepidation and he squeezed her hand encouragingly. Silently he prayed she wouldn't run from him, that she'd realize he wasn't making some ultra-dramatic declaration, but that she'd see that he was simply offering himself to her again. That she might know him, and understand that the fact that their relationship was more than partners – more than friends – wasn't such a scary change after all.
She blinked the tears welling again, a little angry she was becoming so emotional (especially at work) – but she smiled. What was so wrong allowing someone to mean a great deal to you? And what was wrong with letting someone you trust know you.
This is Booth…you trust him with your life, why not with…other things…
"No," she answered finally. "There's nothing wrong with some changes in life, I guess. How else would humans adapt?"
Booth breathed a relieved laugh. He ran his hand over her cheek again, imprinting the feel of her skin to his memory. "I knew you'd find a logical explanation."
The partners found themselves laughing again, all the stress of the past couple of days easing with the sound. And without asking for the ill-named 'guy hug' – Booth pulled Brennan to him and wrapped his arms around her. One hand rubbing circles on her back in an infinitely intimate way, the other at her neck, he allowed himself to revel in her warmth and how right it felt as her body seemed to meld to his.
She, in turn, snaked her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck. There was something comforting and a little astonishing that she felt this at ease embracing Booth in her office. But she needed this contact – craved it.
And Booth knew that if this was all they were capable of dealing with – if all the emotions and unspoken feelings they had for each other only added up to this right now, he would be more than grateful for it. He was a patient man, after all.
-----------------------------
"Zack, sweetie…you really don't want to be knocking on her door right now." Angela stood between the young doctor and Brennan's office door, holding up a finger of warning.
Zack was perplexed. "But I need to confer with Dr. Brennan about some scarring I found on the scull of the victim we've been working on."
Angela crossed her arms. "It can wait."
"But–"
"Zack, I am the 'door guardian'. And I have spoken." Angela deadpanned, as Zack screwed up his face in consternation.
"You were just in there giving her and Booth their souvenirs from your trip, what does it mater if I go in to ask Dr. Brennan something now? Its not like Booth will mind…" Zach tried to explain but was cut off by Hodgins' hands on his shoulders.
Angela glared at the two, as Hodgins steered the younger man away from the treacherous situation.
"Dude," Hodgins muttered as he pushed Zack back toward the work platform, "You do not want to go there…"
READ AND REVIEW! Let me know if you and the flying monkeys that were set upon my mused enjoyed it! Huge thanks and hugs to super-betas htbthomas and Sean Montgomery!