The Healing in the Hiatus

See, I'm not dead just a bloody idiot who promises to update and then doesn't. I'm terribly sorry about that by the way, but these past few weeks have been terribly busy on my account. I've been abroad and then working a lot. My job is at a hotel in the breakfast restaurant so I have to get up super early and when I get home in the late afternoon I'm usually very, very tired. But no more about my boring life, on with the story.

Well, one more thing - I really love and appreciate all your lovely reviews as well as alerts. You guys rock and as a special present for you awesome people I will update a second time this week, probably Saturday or Sunday. Furthermore I will attempt to post three weeks the following week to make up for my recent absence.

Chapter 9: The Apprehension in the Anthropologist

A woman sat erect in her chair, back stiff and face blank. The room provided no consolation, moreover the black walls and scarce furnishing only served to make it all the more impersonal. Silent tears slid down her pale cheeks and long strands of flaxen hair were plastered to her moist face. Next to her a brooding man was sitting. His shoulders were broad and next to the woman, who was crumbled in defeat, he appeared much larger than his actual size. His piercing eyes were transfixed sternly on the one-way window; he knew there were onlookers.

Brennan shuddered under the severity of his gaze but Booth was quick to place a hand soothingly on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

Opposite the couple Dr Lance Sweets rose from his chair, gathered his papers and left the room with a courteous bow and murmured his condolences once more to the grieving parents – Dr and Mrs. Doyle, Clementine's parents. Following Sweets' departure from the room the two partners soon entered, neither looking particularly forward to the interrogation ahead of them. Almost simultaneously they took their seats.

"Mr. and Mrs. Doyle we're terribly sorry for your loss," Booth offered solemnly. Meanwhile he had to fight back the urge to reach across the table to comfort the crying woman. Tears glistened on her face, congealed relics of pain and despair. This was the worst part of the job. However, despite the crumbled exterior, Mrs. Doyle's eyes held indescribable courage and persistence. Indeed here was a person who had seen and experienced various trials in life and yet still managed to remain strong and composed. Booth would be able to recognize such eyes anywhere – the person next to him was in possession of such a capability as well.

"My name is Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is my partner," Booth began his introductions but was soon cut off by Mrs. Doyle.

"Dr Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian Institution, I know. Our daughter was a big fan of yours, Dr Brennan. She owns- owned", she corrected herself "all of your books and recently she decided to become an anthropologist herself, you know." She managed to smile through her tears at the irony of the situation. Something inside Brennan altered, she felt obligated to offer some words of consolation or at least gratitude but no words would come. Instead her thoughts traveled back to the lab where the now -confirmed remains of Clementine lay spread out on the examination table.

"Dr Brennan is one of the best in the field," Booth explained carefully only to have Brennan interrupt him.

"The best in the field, actually." Naturally she was.

"Then maybe you'll be so kind to enlighten us why you let that bastard get to our daughter." The booming voice of Mr. Doyle came unexpected and the three other people in the room turned to the man. Anger caused him to push back from the table and rise abruptly.

"Mr. Doyle I understand your frustration but we are doing our very best," tried Booth.

"That's not good enough!" boomed the father. Anger and hurt had a lot of diverse and different faces; working with solving murders had taught both Booth and Brennan that and though Booth appeared to be more receptive of the reactions, Brennan, too, had paid close attention to how loved ones came to terms with their newfound grief. At first she had thought nothing of it, merely shrugged her interest in human behavior off as an anthropologist's mandatory curiosity but as time had passed she had had to admit that a small part of her longed to display more emotions. Sometimes she wished she could adequately convey her tumultuous mind. Personally she thought she'd progressed greatly.

Mrs. Doyle suddenly stood from her chair.

"Victor, sit!" she commanded her husband as if talking to a dog. Amazingly enough, the broad shouldered man instantly mellowed and embarrassed, retook his seat.

Booth moved to regain control of the interview. "I know this is difficult for you but I need to know if your daughter had any enemies. Anyone who would wish her any harm?"

"No, absolutely not." Mr. Doyle shook his head violently. Brennan internally categorized his action as outright denial. Through such interrogations she often noted people's reactions. When put together with their statements she had been able to create quantifiable categories of human behavior equivalent to anthropological terms.

"Clem was a good girl, Agent Booth. My daughter was a good girl!" The time had come for the father's grief to show its true face. His prior behavior, Brennan reasoned, indicated that Mr. Doyle considered himself an alpha male with plenty of macho tendencies. Anthropologically speaking it was common for males in leading positions to uphold a strong exterior during hardships.

"Has she recently fought with anyone? Behaved unusually?" Booth continued his questioning. Seeing another man cry always made him feel awkward and uncomfortable.

"Well," Mrs. Doyle commenced hesitantly. "She's been eating less, I suppose, and complained about headaches and such, but nothing unusual, really. Oh, she did mention a fight come to think of it."

Booth looked intently at the mother, silently urging her onwards.

"It was a silly girl fight, really. Her, Ally and Bree had a minor dispute. Something about a boy, I think."

During the talk Booth had rummaged through the case file in front of him, looking for a picture. Finally he found the desired photo and gingerly slid it in front of his partner. She gazed down and was welcomed by three bright smiles. Three girls stood closely huddled together with their arms around each other. Immediately she recognized one of them, a girl with raven black hair, to be Alyssa Moriarty. Next to her was Clementine. She was a bit shorter that Alyssa but her smile was just as bright and her features almost as beautiful. The third girl, who Brennan assumed was Bree, seemed a bit stout compared to her friends and yet she, too, was incredibly beautiful. Somehow her smile seemed more radiant and sincere compared to those of her friends'.

"Jason Albright, nice boy." Mrs. Doyle mused before continuing her story. "I think they all had a major crush on him. They wanted him to choose between the three of them."

The two partners shared a knowing look. Two of the contestants were dead already.

Brennan's eye fell on the smiling Bree again. Female feuds over beauty were not uncommon. Even in ancient Greece it happened occasionally; she thought back to the myth of Athena, Aphrodite and Hera's heated discussion about who was the most beautiful. In that case Prince Paris of Troy had been the one to make the final call. Maybe Jason was the chosen one this time.

Xxx

Highs and lows seemed to be far apart. Turned out the 17 year old Albright was as bright as a blackboard wiped clean. His immediate response when questioned about his relationship with Clementine had been – "Clem? Man, she's hawt! I so wanted to get to third base with her, know what I mean?"

With a frustrated sigh Booth banged his hands angrily against the steering wheel, causing the vehicle to swerve radically. Quickly he regained control of the car and steered it safely back into the proper lane. Fortunately no one had been around to witness his little mishap. Except….

"Woah! I'd really appreciate it if you didn't get us killed, Seeley. I have a date with Paul tonight."

"Don't call me Seeley, Camille."

"Don't call me Camille." She retorted smartly. Booth cast a sideway glance at the passenger seat of his SUV. Even though he knew who was seated there he half-expected Bones to sit there, sharing his frustration – understanding it.

Once again he had to remind himself that he'd been the one to set the rules – no field work if it could prove to be dangerous. Instead Cam had volunteered to tag along, longing to get out of the strenuous atmosphere that had settled over the Jeffersonian. Hodgins was back in but even with the bug guy back in business all workers at the institute were strongly affected by the arduous mood the case had caused.

When Booth didn't respond to her comment, Cam couldn't help but wonder.

"Hey big man?"

"How's that better than Seeley?"

"Just hear me out, okay? I know this case is frustrating, but you'll sort it out soon enough. You always do; you and Dr. Brennan."

When a small smiled played on the edge of his lips, Cam knew she'd hit home. Booth, on the other hand, had to shake his head in attempt to stave off the emotions that surfaced at the mere mention of his partner's name. Silence settled once more in the small space of the driving cabin. Cam's thoughts went back to the scared girl they'd talked to most recently, Bree. Her auburn hair had enveloped the girl's face gracefully but she had attempted to hide behind it. Facts spoke clearly – this was not a girl capable of murder; instead she feared for her own life. The only useful piece of information had been able to give was that on some days during lunch hour Clementine would disappear to the parking lot. Together Alyssa and Bree had agreed that she was seeing someone in secrecy.

This fact had only served to agitate Booth further. One more thing to look for, one more mystery to solve. Booth had to reprimand himself to avoid another near-car crash.

The road ahead seemed eternal as it wound in and out of small towns, a sign greeting them whenever they entered and another saying "See you soon!" on their way out. The drive back stretched forever on and Booth found himself growing restless. All he really wanted was to be back home, talking to Bones. Thinking of his partner instinctively caused him to turn his head, taking in the passenger seat.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed by Cam. Her involvement with the Booths had been a lengthy one and she wouldn't exchange it for anything in the world. Not many people managed to remain friends with ex-boyfriends but she was glad they'd managed. In the end, they'd been friends first, lovers second.

"No matter how many times you keep looking, I'm not going to turn into her."

"Huh?" Booth sputtered, coming out of his thoughts.

"Dr Brennan," Cam gave him the answer he already knew. Upon her first encounter with the brilliant forensic anthropologist Cam frankly could not have imagined an odder pair than the two of them. Where Booth was emotionally available; Dr Brennan was exceptionally literal and only accepted factual variables. Despite experiencing their work efficiency first hand Cam wouldn't have believed the two of them would manage to remain partners for long. Opposites attract was not something she believed in.

And yet, regardless of their extreme differences, they continued to work together and along the line seemed to form an odd bond that no one could fully understand no matter how they tried. And how she'd tried!

After a considerable amount of time had passed Cam finally found herself enlightened on the mystery. The physical attraction between the two had been obvious for some time but then she witnessed an intimate moment between them. Booth's eyes had held something she'd never seen there before. Love.

Not long after he admitted he had sincere feelings for his partners and Cam spurred him on. Both deserved happiness.

Then Maluku happened, then Afghanistan. Then Hannah.

But lately something had changed remarkably. Her musings, when alone in the lab, often turned to the two partners as she attempted to interpret various signals. However it proved terribly difficult without Angela.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Booth defended himself. "I'm happy to have my good friend Cam Saroyan with me." His voice seemed to have dropped an octave which caused Cam to laugh heartily.

"You can't possibly believe that yourself. Something's changed between you two. Come on, you can tell me," she urged him but Booth seemed to have frozen in his seat.

Finally, after a long silence, he spoke.

"I really can't, Cam, I'm sorry." Something about the heaviness in his voice made her put a hold to her inquiries. In due time she would know but for now that particular envelope was carefully sealed and marked confidential.

Xxxx

An array of different colors laid spread out on the kitchen counter, creating a lovely symmetric pattern of various vegetables. A set of expertly chopped carrots still remained on the cutting board, ready to go into the casserole. Her hands, so accustomed to meticulously examining small bone fragments, carefully aided her through the chopping process before she added all of the ingredients to the bowl. A content smile settled on her face as she closed the door to the oven conclusively. In spite of the stalemate case at hand she had commenced the preparation of this particular meal with renewed fervor. Impatiently she left the kitchen and began to get dressed.

Most of the day she had felt helpless, remaining at the lab while Booth left to interrogate the Albright boy and the victim's friend. However before he had left Brennan had invited him over for a meal that same night with renewed courage. Her main reason was, for the time being, only clear to her but she hoped to educate Booth on the subject later on. The day before Angela had questioned Brennan very directly about her and Booth's newfound intimacy.

"So how is it? What hides underneath that Cocky belt buckle?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Oh come on, Bren, it's not like you to be shy. The sex, how is it? After six years of foreplay I'd expect it to be nothing short of fireworks."

A puckish grin, very uncharacteristically for the composed anthropologist, spread on Brennan's face when she thought back to the conversation and Angela's choice of words. However when Brennan had presented her with the answer that they had only engaged in coitus twice her friend had not been too pleased and mumbled something about crappy FBI nobility and he already knocked you up, what else can happen? . And that's when it was decided the only solution to the issue was, quote, cleavage.

Starring intently at the full-body mirror that hung on her bedroom wall, Brennan timidly regarded her appearance. The black dress with blue sutures clung snugly to her fit body and insinuated her female proportions. She smiled contently. Though her pregnancy was still well concealed at this early stage her breasts felt fuller and slightly sore but tonight it would be beneficial to her mission. The peeptoe heels served to elongate her legs plentifully and with the embellishments across the toes even her feet looked festive. Furthermore she wore jewels aplenty; two rather provocative rings Angela had picked out for her, an oversized resin cuff and finally a set of black/blue bead earrings.

The overall impression satisfied her tremendously.

However Brennan felt herself grow slightly apprehensive as she approached the mirror hesitantly. Starring intensely back at here were two icy blue eyes framed by a set of dark, batty lashes. Eyes opaque to tenderness and dissoluble to tears, the distant words rang clear within her mind. Rapidly the shear blue orbs blinked back at her, gaze fixated.

Infuriated with her own insecurities, Brennan shook her head to stave off the imperviousness that slowly crept up on her. This time around things would be different; she was a strong substance now.

A loud banging on the front door echoed through the spacious apartment and startled Brennan out of her thoughts. Her eyes fell on the alarm clock on the bedside table. 6:07, she was supposed to have another seven minutes before Booth showed up. And he was usually always late. Bemusedly she stepped out of her bedroom and made it for the door where the banging intensified. On the way she paused at her stereo where she pressed play. Soft jazzy tunes filled the living room and accompanied by the smell of the cooking ratatouille, things seemed ready.

She inhaled deeply, nerves slowly forming a knot in her stomach which she tried to ignore as she opened the door.

"Clostridium botulinum!" exclaimed a voice that certainly did not belong to Booth. Brennan instantaneously stepped aside, allowing the man to rush into her apartment. When her startled mind finally caught up with reality she realized it was Dr Hodgins who was now pacing her hallway. Excitement was radiating off him much like a little boy on Christmas morning.

"Dr Hodings?" Brennan questioned curiously, though frustration at being interrupted in her preparations flowed through her veins.

"Clostridium botulinum, that's what killed Clementine! Am I the king of the lab or what?" Presently he was almost bouncing up and down.

"And you came over here to tell me?" Brennan said, not so discretely hinting his untimely arrival.

"I forgot my phone at home," Hodgins hurriedly explained before exclaiming yet again: "Clostridium botulinum!" in a boastful voice. Without looking back he made his way to the kitchen, ignoring the smell of dinner, and instead went directly for the fridge where he dug out one of the special beers Brennan always kept stocked there for whenever Booth came by.

With a sigh Brennan let the front door slam shut and followed suit.

"Clostridium botulinum?" she inquired and a voice mixed with curiosity and annoyance.

"Yeah," the entomologist/mineralogist/palynologist/chemist shrugged before taking a long swig of the pricy beer. With a contented sigh he commenced explaining his findings.

"Clostridium botulinum is a bacterium that produces neurotoxins that cause flaccid muscular paralysis."

"Botulism?"

Hodgins only nodded in reply, taking another swig of the beer. Brennan scoffed but he remained completely oblivious to her body language.

"It's one of the most dangerous poisons in the world, hardly detectable," he enlightened with a hint of pride. "I found traces of the bacterium on the gown."

"Thank you, Dr Hodgins." Brennan then said in conclusion and with immense finality. Finally awareness appeared in Hodgins' eyes as he took in the surroundings. The smell of a meal being prepared, Dr Brennan's formal attire and the jazz music that played in the background set his mind working.

"You've got a hot date." It wasn't really a question, more a statement and thus the opportune moment came when the door bell rang. Brennan let out a sigh, pressed her eyes tightly shut and then turned to open the door. Maybe there was still time to evade the situation, think of a solution. The ticking of her scientific mind could almost be heard as she apprehensively approached the front door for the second time within minutes.

This time it was the expected and invited guest who appeared on her door step wearing a casual shirt, black jeans and a wide grin. In his hand he held a single daffodil.

"Booth," Brennan breathed and he smiled broadly at the mention of his name. However his smile fell slightly when he noticed she hadn't opened the door fully. When he was just about to ask the door was ripped open by another man - none other than Jack Hodgins with an incredibly silly grin lightening up his entire face.

"What are you doing here?" Asked Hodgins, Brennan and Booth simultaneously, causing confusion. Inwardly Brennan sighed with relief when she noticed Hodgins' grin disappear. Booth's eyes quickly met hers and she just shrugged her shoulders in response.

For a moment the three stood there, awkwardly gawking at each other. Finally Jack was the first to move, turning abruptly on his heel and then he disappeared back into the apartment whilst mumbling inaudibly. Without speaking the two partners entered the apartment anew, closed the door and went into the kitchen. In the background Madeleine Peyroux's Dance me to the End of Love played and Booth unconsciously started bobbing his head along to the beat. Brennan reprimanded herself from commenting on his inaccuracy to the jazzy rhythm. Suddenly the loud banging of closet door being opened and then shut loudly filled the air, causing Brennan to frown.

Quickly she and Booth rushed to her bedroom where Hodgins' was set about searching through her roomy closet.

The loud chirping of a cell phone almost distracted her from the incomprehensive things taking place within her bedroom.

"Yes?" she answered absentmindedly, eyes following Hodings' movements about her room.

"Sweetie, is that you?" Angela piped up excitedly from the other end. "I just wanted to wish you good luck with tonight."

"Uhuh," replied Brennan.

"Bren, are you okay? What's going on? Please tell me you and Studly aren't going at it right now 'cause that would be gross. I mean I want details but not graphics, you know," Angela blabbed incoherently.

"I'm not following," Brennan stated in confusion. The entomologist was currently kneeling on the floor, looking under her bed.

"Thank god," Angela breathed before recomposing herself. "Then tell me what's going on."

"Your husband is currently looking for something in my bedroom though I don't know why."

For a long while the artist didn't speak a word. This left Brennan with some time to take in the scene in front of her. Booth, on the other hand, still couldn't wrap his mind around what was going on. His mouth was slightly agape as he watched his colleague search through his girlfriend's bedroom for no apparent reason.

"Put him on the phone!" Angela suddenly ordered in a stern voice and soon husband and wife were having a heated discussion. Meanwhile the two partners had retreated to the kitchen where dinner was finally ready.

The silence finally allowed Booth to fully appreciate Bones' appearance. She regarded him in trepidation but his beaming smile soon reassured her that her attire had the desired effect.

"Hey," Booth smiled. Brennan simply returned the gesture. Once more their moment was interrupted when Hodgins' waltzed into the kitchen, placed the phone back in Brennan's hand and then abruptly quit the apartment.

"Okay, problem averted, don't worry sweetie. Apparently my idiot husband believed you had male company but then you found out Booth was coming over and your date had to hide somewhere," Angela explained hurriedly. "But I convinced him you were just cooking for yourself, I told him single girls do it all the time."

"But I'm not single," Brennan argued.

"I know, but you want Jack to believe that don't you?"

"I-" she trailed off, her eyes meeting Booth's curious gaze.

"Yes, I find that to be accurate for the time being," she finally concluded. Without another word Brennan ended the call and smiled timidly at her partner. For a long moment they settled for silence, allowing the jazz song Don't Wait Too Long to fill the air and create a soothing atmosphere. Then, all apprehension and imperviousness pushed aside, Brennan stepped forward and pressed her lips passionately to his.

Maybe you and I got a lot to learn
Don't waste another day
Maybe you got to lose it all
Before you find your way

Take a chance, play your part
Make romance, it might break your heart
But if you think that time will change your ways
Don't wait too long
Don't wait
Hmm... Don't wait

Madeleine Peyroux, Don't Wait Too Long

And a shout out to my beta, Jen - you're amazing!

For those interested here's how I imagined Brennan's outfit to look like

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Please review and I swear I'll write faster.