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Spoilers: Two Bodies In The Lab, Season One.

"Agent Scully had a gun," Brennan said to Booth.

Booth put down his fork, and patted his mouth with his napkin. "Yes, she did," he said, agreeably. He took a sip of milk.

Brennan had to admit to herself that Booth was very good about not protesting at non sequitors, or even at having his lunch interrupted. She sat down next to him at the counter of Wong Fu's. Sid nodded to her, and brought her a cup of coffee.

"Well?" she asked, when Booth picked up his fork again.

"Well, what?" Booth asked. "Scully was, as you said, an agent. A federal agent."

"You said that we were Mulder and Scully," Brennan said. "So, I did research. But I don't see the real connection, because you aren't much like Mulder. You're much more empirical and objective."

"Scully's a doctor," Booth said elliptically. "A medical doctor, though."

"And she had a gun, " Brennan said. "To shoot bad guys."

"She shot Mulder in one episode," Sid said, setting down a chicken salad sandwich in front of Brennan.

"That's right, " Booth said, pleased. "Another reason why you don't need a gun."

"I haven't shot you!" Brennan said.

"Yet," Booth said. "Yet." He finished his plate of eggplant lasagna and pushed it away. "Did you just say I was objective? Thanks, Bones." He beamed at her.

"I didn't intend---"

Sid interrupted. "You did, Dr. Brennan. I heard you."

"I meant, more than Mulder," Brennan said. "This chicken salad is excellent, Sid."

Booth's cell phone rang. He picked it up, "Booth," he said. "Hey, Angela. Yeah, she's right here. We'll be there."

Brennan began tidily wrapping up her sandwich, but Sid supplied her with a styrofoam clam shell. "Let's go," she said.

"That's why you're so skinny," Sid said disapprovingly. "You don't enjoy your food."

"I enjoy my food!" Brennan objected.

Booth and Sid both stared at her.

"I just enjoy it more quickly at times," she said.

"Whatever, Mr. Spock," Booth said, throwing bills on the counter. "Seeya, Sid."

"Make her sit down and eat," Sid said.

"Hodgins explained what the planet Vulcan meant," Brennan said in the doorway. "Not funny."

"I bet he thought it was, " Booth said.

Brennan stuck her lip out. Hodgins had thought it was funny.

::

Brennan ejected the DVD from her laptop. Agent Dana Scully never lost her gun, unlike Agent Mulder. Moreover, she never used it in a cowboy-like fashion. She picked up her cell phone and called Booth.

"Booth," he said. "What is it, Bones? I thought the case was done."

"Mulder had an extra gun in an ankle holster. When we were in Washington State, you loaned me your extra gun. If you loaned me a gun for self-defense, it shows that there's no reason to deny my request for a carry permit!"

There was a soft rustle, and Booth sighed. "Bones, can we talk about this later?"

"You're not alone? I thought you weren't seeing Tessa."

"No, and that is correct. And Scully qualified on the FBI gun range."

"Scully is a fictional character, you know," Brennan said.

"So why do you keep bringing her up?" Booth asked, and hung up.

::

"He had someone with him, Ange," Brennan told Angela the next day.

Angela looked suitably interested. "Not Tessa? Fast work. But then, he's yumminess."

"How come you don't go after him? I mean, considering how much you two flirt," Brennan asked.

"Honey, I'd never poach on your territory. And we banter. We're not flirting."

"Booth isn't my territory," Brennan said. "And explain the difference in bantering and flirting? Because it seems exactly the same thing."

"Flirting is banter with intent," Angela said.

"So, why don't you have intent?" Brennan asked, curious.

Angela leaned her chin on the heel of her hand. "Hm. Actually, I don't think that Booth would shit where he ate."

"Which, if I interpret you correctly, means that he wouldn't want to have a personal relationship with me, " Brennan said triumphantly.

Angela wrinkled her nose. "He already has a personal relationship with you, honey. You may not think he's your territory, but he definitely thinks you're part of his."

Brennan smiled. "I'm his partner. Traditionally, police officers consider that a very close and loyal relationship."

"Exactly," Angela said.

"What you said makes no sense," Brennan said.

Angela patted her on the arm.

::

When she went to see Booth in the hospital, Brennan was unprepared for the rush of oddly maternal feelings she had. Of course, Booth played up to them by giving her a sad-eyed look and pathetic tone of voice; he would have probably had a less strong-minded woman feeding him the pudding. Still, it was unsettling to see Booth sidelined, with face still dirty from smoke and hair sticking straight up.

She was even more unsettled by the flood of emotion that she felt, every time she thought about Booth for showing up and shooting Kenton. It was natural to be grateful, she told herself firmly. Natural that she should have clung to him like he was a life preserver, too, despite the fact that he nearly passed out after he pulled her off the hook. In fact, an ambulance was summoned, and they both went in it.

Booth was re-admitted, of course. This time, at least, when she came to visit him, someone had washed his face and doped him up a bit more. He kept giving her reassuring smiles, but she felt guilty about leaving him to go on a date.

Which was easily solved.

"Grapes of Wrath?" she asked.

"Yep. Henry Fonda."

"I know Henry Fonda," Brennan said, leaning on the mattress and looking at him.

"Arm, Bones," Booth winced.

"I'll move the chair to your other side," she declared.

Booth watched her walk around the bed with the chair, a frown creasing his forehead. "Dinner," he said.

"You ate your dinner," she said.

"Your dinner," he said. "You need to eat. Call Sid, ask him to bring you something."

"Sid? Why would he do that?"

"Because we're customers," Booth said, as if she was incapable of reason. He started patting his sheets. "Where's my cell?"

"I think they took it away from you," Brennan said.

"Admit it," he said, giving her a little-boy-look again. "You're hungry. I'm hungry. And Henry Fonda? He's hungry."

Brennan took her cell phone from her purse. "I don't think we can do anything about Henry Fonda, but give me Sid's number."

He told her, and added, "Actually, he's going to bring me something. Just tell him you're here."

"I'll bring you something to eat, Dr. Brennan, if you're going to sit there and eat it," Sid said. "No jumping up to carve up bodies."

"I don't carve--- " she protested, but Sid had hung up.

"Here's something you'd like," Booth said, waggling the remote control. "History Channel. Mummies."

She took the remote from him and pointed it. "Discovery Channel. FBI Files."

"Hey, Cullen's in one of those," Booth said happily.

About forty minutes later, Sid loomed in the doorway, holding two paper sacks. "Oh, yeah, you've got the good drugs."

Booth gave Sid a wide smile. "Hey, Sid!"

"Apple pie for him," Sid told Brennan, unloading the sacks on the bed table. "Soup for you. Booth told me that you'd been through the wringer."

"But I wasn't blown up," she said.

"Yeah, but I think you'd better stop trying to be Mulder and Scully." Sid nodded to Booth, and went back out.

"What does that mean?" Brennan asked, opening the plastic carton of pie, and punching the fork out of its plastic cover.

"They were in the hospital a lot. " He glowered at her. "And even if you'd had a gun, Kenton would have got the drop on you. What are you going to do with that fork?"

"Feed you your pie."

"No," Booth said. "I can feed myself!"

"Yes," she said, and stuck a forkful in his mouth when he opened it to object. His cross expression turned to one of bliss, and she had to laugh.

End

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