Precision and Distance by carmen_sandiego

Summary: This is for the onebedficathon.
 

Spoilers: None specific. This is set generally in the context of Season Two

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I gain no money from writing this, only pleasure.

Notes: Thanks to girlnorth for organizing the ficathon, lostakasha, kelbelle, and snowdrifted for beta-reading, encouragement, and helpful comments. Livejournal Fiction Link: http://carmens-quill.livejournal.com/  

“I’m not saying I wanted the job in Australia or anything, just that I could have easily gone down for a week to help orient the dig site...” 
 
“You really have got to let this go, Bones.” Booth read the number off the key card, glancing at the hotel room doors as they passed them in the corridor. She kept talking. 
 
“I’m aware that Dr. Patel is perfectly qualified. All I did was offer to assist in the preliminary investigation...” 
 
“...And she rejected your offer, yeah. I think you might have mentioned that once already.” He stopped abruptly, nearly missing the room that belonged to their key.  
 
Brennan stalled to a halt next to him, adjusting the shoulder strap on her bag. “It’s just disappointing, that’s all.” 
 
“Sure, I get that. And I can’t help noticing it’s just a little bit warmer there than it is here, right?” He smirked at her as he slid the key into the lock, and pushed the door open. December in the northeast. 
 
“The thought had crossed my mind.” She put one hand on her hip, following him inside.  
 
“Besides, I thought you ended up spending Christmas with your brother.” He tossed the key on the table and dropped his bag on the floor.  
 
“I did. It was nice. I mean, except for the fact that he won’t tell me anything about where my father is or admit to anything to do with...” Brennan paused, noticing Booth’s expression. “What? What’s wrong?” She slipped her bag off of her shoulder and looked around the room. 
 
He let out a sigh, snatching up the key again. “There’s only one bed. This is a single room, I asked for a double.” 
 
She made note of this. “It’s a big bed, at least...” 
 
He was already shaking his head. “No, it’s not what I asked for. Here, why don’t you keep this room. I’ll be right back, see if I can straighten this out and get a second one or something...” 
 
“Sure.” She nodded, watched him gather his things and move briskly for the door.  
 
It occurred to her briefly that he was acting a little more tense than usual – even for the night before a court appearance. It made her frown a little, wondering if she should say something to him about it. She considered it might be because there was Witness Protection involved in the case this time. She knew Booth always worried about the details. He would always relax a bit more once the charges were laid and the case was closed.  
 
The room was quiet after he left. Her hands finally started to warm up from the heat inside, and she slipped off her gloves.  
 
 
* * * * *  
 
“Sorry, Bones, you’re stuck with me.”  
 
As soon as he said that he realized he wondered if he should have tried to sound more defeated, or less. What exactly was the protocol in this situation? He was sure he wasn’t the first federal agent to have to share a room with his partner…his attractive female partner… 
 
Brennan looked up from the wardrobe, already unpacking. “No more rooms?” 
 
“Nope. I guess it’s too close to New Year’s to change anything at the last minute. They must not have realized we weren’t...you know. Together.” 
 
She shrugged. “It’s only one night. Two at the most if things really get drawn out.”  
 
“Well yeah, but...” 
 
“Anyway, we shared a room in Vegas. We can manage.” She brushed a bit of lint off of the blazer she was putting on a hanger. 
 
“Well yeah, but that was different...” Booth let out a breath.  
 
He tried to think of a way to explain that sharing a bed – even a king-sized bed, at that – on one of the coldest nights of the year, was much, much different from a hot Vegas hotel room with her on the double bed and him on the pull-out sofa. He couldn’t think of a way to explain this without getting a little more detailed about their relationship than he cared to at that particular moment. He cleared his throat and finally removed his coat.  
 
“It’s not so different. Anyway, it’ll be easier to review the case details. I still need to go over a couple of things.” 
 
He sniffed, recognizing her perfectionist streak. “You always say that and you never do.”  
 
She gave him a glance which, from anyone else, would have been the start of an eye-rolling gesture, but from her was enough to convey plenty. “You have your way of doing things, I have mine,” she said. “And if you want forensic testimony to support this protected witness of yours, then...” Her voice trailed off. 
 
Booth approached and lifted a hanger from the wardrobe. She was right, as usual. And he would be glad to have her support. WP cases were always a little bit touchier than others. “I know, Bones. And you’re good at what you do, that’s all I’m saying.” He slipped his coat on the hanger and set it next to the others with her clothes.  
 
Facing him, she straightened. She smiled a little. “Thank you.” 
 
“You’re welcome.” He could tell her cheeks were still pink from the cold. He waited a moment before looking away again.  
 
 
* * * * *  
 
“I thought you liked steak.” 
 
“Well yeah, but that was before I saw your roast chicken.” 
 
Brennan rolled her eyes. “You just had roast turkey a few days ago, now you want my chicken?” She didn’t understand his sudden interest in her food, but she had to admit that it was pretty good, even for hotel room service.  
 
“What, you didn’t have turkey on Christmas?” 
 
She wasn’t sure how that was relevant. “No. Russ made lamb.”  
 
“Oh.” Booth went back to cutting his steak.  
 
Brennan reached over and took a couple of his potato wedges, narrowly missing being swatted. Before he could admonish her again, she shifted her plate towards his. “Here, I was getting full anyway.” She stood, carrying her glass of wine as she sat in one of the armchairs next to her files.  
 
Glancing towards the curtains, she could tell the snow was falling heavily. When they’d pulled up to the hotel an hour ago it had already started, but now the wind was picking up. She let out a sigh. 
 
“You’re not going to complain about the weather again, are you?” 
 
“What? No.” She turned back to look at Booth. 
 
“Just checking.” 
 
She paused, sipped from her glass of wine. “It is warmer in Australia right now, though.” 
 
Booth groaned in exasperation. “Okay, we have this conversation one more time, and then that’s it.” He shifted the plate of chicken closer towards him, picked up the abandoned drumstick. 
 
Brennan took another sip of wine and considered whether to rise to the bait. She wouldn’t deny it was still on her mind. “I just don’t see why Dr. Patel would refuse my offer so blatantly,” she said, raising the glass to her lips again. “I would think another scientist would be relieved to have additional support on such a significant archeological site, the find at Darwin is quite rare--” 
 
He tossed the now-bare chicken leg back on the plate. “Because, Bones, you’re not just any other scientist.” 
 
She frowned, not catching his meaning. “I know there are other forensic anthropologists she could invite instead of me...” 
 
“No, there aren’t. You said that yourself, remember? It’s a short list of people they could have called. And you were right at the top.” 
 
“You remember that?” 
 
“Bones, that’s not the sort of thing you’re inclined to let me forget.” 
 
She arched an eyebrow at him and decided not to respond to that comment. 
 
Booth continued. “All I’m saying is, this Dr. Patel probably doesn’t want one of the top scientists in her field looking over her shoulder while she gets her team ready.” 
 
She considered this. “So, essentially, you think I should feel complimented by her refusal, not rebuffed.” 
 
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, popped the last potato wedge into his mouth.  
 
“Hm.” She thought about this some more, sipped again from her wine. Before she could carry the conversation further, Booth’s cell phone rang.  
 
“Agent Booth. Yes, Director Stevens, hello...”  
 
As Booth continued the conversation Brennan could tell he was becoming agitated. She didn’t interject.  
 
“Is he all right, was anyone hurt?” He’d stood up now, begun to pace slightly. “Well that’s not...Yes sir, I understand that it’s...” He exhaled a sigh, visibly frustrated. “I worked the original case two years ago, maybe if I talked to...” Booth’s glance flickered to Brennan briefly, and then he turned, stepping towards the far corner of the room as he spoke.  
 
Brennan contemplated the remnants of their dinner. Guessing that the meal was quite finished, she methodically gathered the dishes and cutlery onto the tray that had been left. She opened the door and set the tray outside in the hall to be collected.  
 
She returned and shut the door behind her in time to see Booth ending the call, and tossing his phone onto the bed in frustration.  
 
“I take it that wasn’t good news.” 
 
He swept a hand across his face, half-pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. You could say that.” 
 
“The case?” 
 
“Not so much of a case right now. The key witness for the prosecution, my key witness, was threatened tonight.”  
 
That explained quite a bit. “And...he’s not going to testify,” she guessed. 
 
“That pretty much sums it up.”  
 
“What now?” 
 
He exhaled again, hands on hips. He reached for his phone, digging under the pillow to find it and then made for the closet to grab his coat. “I’m going to make a few calls. I didn’t come all the way up here to let the bad guys win.” 
 
“The case can’t be cancelled...” It was half a question, half confusion.  
 
“We’ll see, Bones. We’ll see.” And with that, he was gone.  
 
Brennan looked back at the closed door for a moment, then over at her small stack of files. She sat down at the desk and opened up her laptop.  
 
 
* * * * *  
 
A couple of hours later Booth returned still feeling slightly defeated. He’d driven to the courthouse and then called person after person involved with the case, all to no avail. There were no other witnesses to call to testify, there were no solid leads on whether the threat to their current witness would escalate – and besides, the man had already refused to make a statement to the court.  
 
They were running low on options. The rest of the trial was still on schedule – for now, he’d managed to discern – but it had certainly been weakened.  
 
The one slight ray of hope had come from his final phone call to his supervising agent, who’d cryptically told him to talk again to his “lady forensics partner.” Booth returned to their room in a quizzical state of mind.  
 
He could hear her voice even before he opened the door. He found her at her desk, fingers tapping at the keyboard, cell phone balanced between her cheek and shoulder.  
 
“You should still be able to access the original samples taken when the body was found, talk to Dr. Saroyan...” Brennan was saying. She looked up and saw Booth enter, nodding a quick hello. “No, the summary pages aren’t enough. Hodgins needs to double-check the insect activity and confirm the length of time the body was submerged. Yes, that’s right...” She said a few other things and then paused, waiting as Booth sat down nearby.  
 
He was quite sure his quizzical expression was obvious, as she covered the mouthpiece with her hand and explained. He tried the direct route.  
 
“So, my boss seems to think that you know something I don’t, about why we don’t need to throw out the case even without the star witness.” 
 
She seemed to brush right past his question and on to the answer. “I’ve got Zack on the phone and the others are still at the lab. They’re gathering up the original evidence that remains at the Jeffersonian from the crime scene of two years ago.” 
 
He sat up a little straighter. “You’re reopening the investigation?” 
 
“Technically, it’s not a full investigation, more like a verification of known facts--”  
 
“—Okay, whatever, so...you mean that...” His voice trailed off. He wasn’t sure what he thought she meant.  
 
“What were the key points that the protected witness was going to report on for the trial?” 
 
Booth thought about this. “Well, lots of things...Mostly, he was the one who witnessed the murder in the first place, he was going to say where the crime took place and where the body was dumped, how many men…” 
 
“Okay.” Brennan nodded. She held the phone out to him. “Tell Zack. Don’t provide him with any assumptions, just tell him the facts you need.” 
 
He took the phone, still pausing before bringing it to his ear. “Really? You can do that?” 
 
Zack’s voice was barely audible from the mouthpiece. “We’re very good at our jobs, Agent Booth. Also, our equipment is state of the art. And we’re willing to work late to assist you.” This last piece of information was delivered with a shift in tone.  
 
Booth resisted rolling his eyes at Brennan’s star pupil in front of the good doctor herself. It took willpower.  
 
“Yeah, Zack, I gotcha, just hang on one sec...” He lifted the phone away from his mouth. “So, you this will still work after all?” He addressed this to the woman sitting across from him. 
 
“Of course it will work. Facts are facts.”  
 
She was emphasizing the rationality, he knew, although this time he suspected that she knew this was exactly what he needed to hear. She stood, rubbing a kink in her neck.  
 
“Talk to Zack. I’m going to get us coffee.”  
 
It was a reminder of the hours they would still need to spend. He glanced at his watch and then immediately wished they hadn’t. And then, he wished he hadn’t.  
 
“Hey, skip the stuff in the lobby, there’s a local place just—” 
 
“—Just around the corner.” Brennan nodded. “I know, I saw it when we came in.” She reached for her coat. “Back in a few minutes.” 
 
He nodded back, watched her leave. Finally he became aware of Zack’s voice clamouring from the other end of the line, and he put the phone to his ear.  
 
“Yeah, Zack, fire away. I’m not going anywhere.” 
 
 
* * * * *  
 
They worked until it was well past one in the morning. By the time they did make it to bed they were both so tired that Brennan briefly wondered to herself if it really mattered what the sleeping arrangements were. Their sleep would be deep and too short.  
 
Some time during the middle of the night she woke. She lifted her head slightly, noticing from the clock and the darkness outside that it was only four in the morning, not quite early enough to get up.  
 
She rested her head on her pillow again, exhaling a long breath and telling herself to try to fall asleep again. It was then that she became fully aware of everything else around her, and felt a gentle weight against her. She shifted just slightly, turning enough to look over her shoulder, and registered that what she felt was Booth’s hand resting against her back. His knees were bent at the same angle as hers, almost touching hers, but not quite. He was still fast asleep. 
 
In the darkness she blinked, wondering what to make of this. She wondered if he’d known he’d shifted so close to her...And whether or not it was appropriate. Still, she didn’t feel that it was – and she didn’t mind. She wasn’t uncomfortable at all.  
 
When she rested her head again, sleep came easily.  
 
 
* * * * *  
 
In the morning, Booth woke before she did. He sat up feeling refreshed, though his troubling thoughts from the night before still lingered. A knot began to curl in his stomach, half-formed out of doubts and frustration.  
 
He turned and looked at his partner, still asleep, facing him. He found himself admiring the path of the sunbeam that glinted through the window and lighted against her skin. Before he realized what he was doing he reached out and gently pushed away a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her face. Gently, the tip of his thumb brushed her cheek. 
 
She let out a quiet murmur, as if close to waking. Gingerly he retreated, closing himself in the bathroom and running the shower before she had the chance to notice anything out of the ordinary.  
 
 
* * * * *  
 
“You’re at your computer again? Already?”  
 
Brennan turned from her seat at the desk to notice Booth emerge from the bathroom, now fully clothed and sporting slightly damp hair. “Zack called a few minutes ago. He’s sending me copies of all the preliminary reports, the federal courthouse will have copies by the time we get there.” 
 
“Zack is up at this hour?” He looked at his watch. 
 
“Sure. It’s already seven o’clock. When I talked to him last night he was very intent on getting us the right documents in time. He said he sent a late-night priority delivery with some hard copies and he’s following up with electronic files right now.” 
 
Booth nodded. “Okay then. Remind me to thank him for me when we get back, then...” He slipped his tie around his neck. 
 
She smiled back at him, then glanced back at her laptop screen. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” A ping sounded from her computer. “See? I’m getting them now.” 
 
“Won’t the hard copies be enough?” He came to stand next to her, still fidgeting with the tie. 
 
“This is just for backup.” She tapped at a few keys, authorizing the transmission receipt.  
 
There was a knock at the door, and she glanced up. “That’s probably our breakfast.” 
 
“You ordered breakfast?” He asked, and then put out a hand to her shoulder, stopping her from answering the door herself.  
 
Her brow furrowed in hesitation. “Of course I ordered breakfast. Can I please open the door for the room service or would you prefer to go hungry?” She folded her arms.  
 
“Ah, ah…” he said, finding his jacket and pulling out his wallet. “A lady doesn’t answer the door when she’s not dressed.” 
 
Brennan looked down at herself. She was still wearing the same tank top and pyjama pants she’d put on for bed the night before. Booth hadn’t had a problem with her wearing them in front of him.  
 
She heard him opening the door and telling the young man to keep the change. Soon he was wheeling in a small cart with a few covered plates. He started removing the lids.  
 
“What’s this...granola?” He glanced at the bowl of muesli and fruit, wrinkled his nose. 
 
She rolled her eyes at him. “That’s mine. This is yours.” She unceremoniously pulled the lid off of the other tray, revealing a plate of eggs and a side of pancakes. 
 
“Oh,” he said.  
 
“You’re welcome.” She felt a small amount of satisfaction. 
 
Brennan returned to her armchair from the night before, holding her bowl in one hand. Booth joined her, perching his plate on the small table between them and claiming the other chair. They chewed in silence for a moment. She was beginning to go back over the court details in her head when he spoke again.  
 
“How’d you know what breakfast I like?”  
 
She shrugged, spooning a bite of strawberries and yogurt into her mouth. “You always order pancakes and eggs. Scrambled, not fried.”  
 
He nodded, but somehow he still seemed confused. She wondered if he thought it should have been a more difficult answer – if he wanted things to be more complicated. It seemed to her there were fewer complications between them, the longer they worked together.  
 
This made her pause, briefly, recognizing as much to herself. She set down her dish, watched him carefully pour syrup on his pancakes.  
 
“I’ll get dressed. We should leave in a few minutes.” 
 
He murmured his agreement, and settled in his seat as he brought his knife and fork to the pancakes.  
 
She closed the bathroom door behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror for a moment, before running the shower.  
 
 
* * * * *  
 
Later on, he would look back on the trial and wonder at how concerned he’d been in the days leading up to it. He would also start wondering – if briefly – how much they even still needed eye-witness testimony anymore, if a person’s bones really could tell so much information.  
 
Booth sat behind the prosecution lawyers, itching to be on the other side of the small barrier that separated him and the rest of the civilians from the judge and jury. A few witnesses did still appear, each filling in their fragmented tale of events that would hopefully add up to the whole.  
 
It had been years now since Booth had first been assigned this case, and many months before that since the victim had been killed. The defense lawyers had proven themselves to be expert administrators, negotiating delays wherever possible. The suspect himself was extremely secure financially with deep business connections across the New England area – respectable enough on the surface. It was the promise of eyewitness testimony that had finally cemented the trial date.  
 
“Dr. Brennan, you have been called to testify with forensic evidence on behalf of the prosecution,” the defense attorney was saying.  
 
“That’s correct.”  
 
Brennan had already given her statements and was now sitting for cross-examination. To her credit, she wasn’t sweating at all, and looked perfectly comfortable to sit on the stand all afternoon if necessary. 
 
“Don’t you find it more than a little strange that you have been called upon to support the testimony of a witness who, in the end, withdrew from his appearance in this court?” 
 
Booth twitched in his seat. He silently dared the defense attorney to cross paths with him outside the courthouse. 
 
Brennan shook her head. “Not at all. I am frequently called upon to provide forensic testimony in support of criminal investigations, it is one of the hallmarks of my position with the Jeffersonian Institution in Washington, D.C.,” she responded easily, and Booth smiled at the way she lifted her chin just slightly as she dropped the name of her workplace. It was a completely unnecessary tactic, and also completely effective in front of juries, if subtle.  
 
“Furthermore,” she went on, before the next question was fired. “I think you should consult your clients about why the witness list for this trial is shorter than expected. My understanding is that some principal witnesses have been coerced into not appearing here today.” 
 
There was a flurry of activity and exclamation as the defense team rallied and called for an objection to Brennan’s statement. The judge pounded her gavel and asked for order before finally leveling a warning at Dr. Brennan. Booth looked on, impressed and verging on sudden giddiness. He straightened in his seat, pressing a hand over his mouth to restrain his reaction. He couldn’t believe she’d been so bold as to drop a comment like that – and yet at the same time he wasn’t surprised at all.  
 
He watched as she calmly held her posture in her seat, and could have sworn a smirk had flashed briefly across her features – but in an instant it was gone, and her cool, even gaze returned. The damage had been done.  
 
The defense’s questions continued with a renewed stiffness and a certain icy tone of voice. “Dr. Brennan, you alleged in your testimony earlier today that the victim was killed with three gunshots fired from point-blank range inside the basement of an iron foundry, then concealed in tarpaulins and dumped into the Allegheny river.” 
 
“That is correct.” 
 
“I find it difficult to believe that even such scientists as those employed by the Jeffersonian can determine the exact dock from which this victim was dumped.”  
 
“Then allow me to clarify. If you will recall, the evidence which my associates and I have provided for Exhibit E shows particulate matter consistent with a unique composite of sewage matter...” She carried on, gesturing to the boards that stood to her left. She was immovable.  
 
Booth looked on and could only smile as he listened.  
 
 
* * * * *  
 
Booth helped Brennan into the car - despite her protests – and closed the passenger side door behind her to let her sit in the warming car a few scant seconds sooner than himself. After he slid behind the wheel he reached for his buckle, glancing over at her and noticing her expression.  
 
“You look pleased.” 
 
She blinked, her expression faltering just a little as she looked over at him. “Why wouldn’t I be pleased? You won your case.” 
 
A half-chuckle escaped him. “It wasn’t my case, exactly...” 
 
“Of course it was your case, Booth, it was important to you. You wanted it to go the way it did.” 
 
He appreciated the compliment, to be sure, but brushed it off as if the whole thing had been a small piece of red tape.  
 
“Ah, sure I did. I think we should discuss this more over dinner.” He ran through his mental catalogue of the local places he knew. There were several, but the one he knew best was a little Italian place a few streets over from the main drag.  
 
“I’m kind of in the mood for pasta, I think.”  
 
“You read my mind.”  
 
 
* * * * *  
 
Their plates stood empty next to their places, and they considered the option of ordering dessert. It seemed indulgent, Brennan couldn’t help but think, but then they did have something to celebrate. An extra few dollars on the expense account couldn’t hurt so much.  
 
“Gelato for me,” Booth was saying to the waiter. “Bones?” 
 
She flickered her gaze across the small dessert menu. “I’ll have the pecan pie.” She handed the menu back to the young man. “Not very Italian, I suppose,” she shrugged to Booth.  
 
“Nah. Pecan pie goes with everything.” 
 
Brennan sniffed in amusement. “Good to know.” She picked up her half-empty glass of wine, swirled it in relaxed contentment as she leaned back in her seat. They’d covered all the fine details of the case and had by now moved onto more personal ground. “Did you have a nice holiday?”  
 
“Sure. It was the usual good stuff, I guess. Spent Christmas Day with Parker and took him skating. I got him this new really cool Nintendo set, too, you should have seen his face...” 
 
“Did you see Rebecca?” 
 
He chewed, nodded. “A little. She’s with that new guy, still, looks like that’ll probably last.” 
 
“New guy? What was his name, Andrew?” 
 
“It’s Drew.” His shoulders hunched a little. 
 
“Okay, Drew.”  
 
“Rebecca said they’re engaged, now.” 
 
Brennan lifted her eyebrows. “Really?” Now she was starting to understand some of the tension he’d had when they arrived yesterday.  
 
“Geez, Bones, don’t sound so surprised.” 
 
“I’m not...I didn’t mean to sound surprised.” She set down her glass. “That’s nice for Rebecca.” 
 
“I thought you didn’t believe in marriage.” Booth paused as the waiter arrived with their desserts.  
 
Brennan sat up in her seat, replaced the serviette in her lap and picked up her fork as the waiter retreated, her pie now in front of her. “I don’t. But other people do, and if it’s what they want, then...it’s good news.” 
 
“Yeah. I guess it’s what she wants, then.” He took a bite of gelato.  
 
“Are you happy for her?” 
 
He blinked, leaned back in his chair and considered his answer. “Yes. She deserves to be happy. I couldn’t give her that, so...”  
 
Brennan watched him. “What about Parker?” 
 
Booth looked back at her then, uncertain. “What you mean, what about Parker?” 
 
“Does he like Drew?” 
 
“Sure. Yeah. I mean, he talked about him. Said he goes to hockey practice with him every week.” 
 
Brennan nodded. He seemed to relax a bit more now. “Good,” she said, at a loss for what else to say. She admitted to herself that her knowledge base in children’s matters – or family matters, even – only extended so far. “I hope they’re happy together.” 
 
Booth nodded back. “Yeah.” He took another bite of his dessert, still thinking, apparently. Finally he nodded again, this time with more confidence. “Yeah, me too.” 
 
“We can talk about something else, Booth, if you prefer.” She knew subtlety was not her strongest quality.  
 
Booth smiled a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling in tiny fans that told her his smile was genuine. “That’s okay, Bones, we can talk about whatever you want.”  
 
She was pleased at this, and launched into a discussion of the new technique Hodgins had perfected for analyzing the bones of corpses submerged over an extended period of time, and why the resulting publication was going to make a big difference to the Jeffersonian. She plunged her fork into her slice of pie. 
 
 
* * * * *  
 
A few hours had passed at the restaurant by the time they eventually drove back to the hotel. They’d both had a bit of wine, though Booth insisted his driving skills were still top notch. Brennan calculated their relatively short driving distance in her head and decided she was still in safe hands. 
 
The car was warm, and she let her hands sit bare in her lap during the ride. She turned to look out the window, lifting a finger to scratch against the frost patterns forming on the glass.  
 
“They’re little geometric patterns, you know,” she said absentmindedly. “Like fractals, almost...” 
 
“Yeah?” Booth murmured a response, next to her. He flicked on the turn signal, made a left at the traffic lights. 
 
“Mm hmm. I always thought they were fascinating.”  
 
“I always thought they were pretty.” 
 
Brennan kept tracing their shapes for a few moments, before letting her hands drift back to her lap. She watched the cold sidewalks pass them by. “There’s not much snow in Darwin,” she said eventually. 
 
She could hear Booth shifting next to her, heard him clear his throat. They’d arrived back at the hotel. He turned the car into the parking lot, pulling to a halt when he found an empty space near their entrance. 
 
“No Bones, there isn’t.” 
 
She waited for him to come around and open her door. She smiled, felt warmth in her cheeks and wondered if it was just the wine. 
 
 
* * * * *  
 
Booth walked companionably at Brennan’s side as they made their way back down the familiar hotel corridor, pleased at the sensation of her arm curled around his. It was possible they’d both had more than a little bit of wine.  
 
She was talking again, using words that resonated haphazardly in his own conscious mind. Whatever it was she was telling him, he had no doubt it was extremely interesting and professionally satisfying – no doubt personally as well, for her. He could pick out a few things, though.  
 
“I wish they’d asked me about the gunshot wounds in cross-examination,” she was saying. “That particular caliber weapon is extremely rare in professional hits, which is one of the reasons the original investigators took so long to tie the murder to the Vespirinis...” 
 
“Hey, I was one of the original investigators, remember?” He was vaguely miffed. 
 
“I know. I’m just saying, I can understand why it took so long for you to figure out the right suspect.” She didn’t miss a beat. It was her own way of paying him a compliment, he supposed, and he couldn’t fault her for that.  
 
They arrived at the room, and she continued as if she’d only been on momentary pause during his comment.  
 
“Also, the angle of the bullets’ entrance and exit wounds prove that the shooter is left-handed, and most likely with an injury to his second and third phalanges that affects his ability to steady the trigger.” 
 
“Yeah, but the defense didn’t ask you about that either, did he?” Booth slid the key into the lock, waiting as she entered the room before him.  
 
“No.” Brennan dropped her bag on the floor, as Booth let the door close behind them. She ignored his implied barb. “In fact, you should keep that in mind if they try to lodge an appeal, I bet if you investigate the iron foundry personnel records you’ll find—” 
 
Booth took that moment to interrupt her, not bothering to shed his coat or waiting for her to do the same. He tossed the room key to one side, pressing his hands against her waist and pushing her against the wall next to the door. His lips were on hers before she could say another word.  
 
He’d always wondered what it would feel like, kissing Brennan just to get her to shut up for a few seconds. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected it would feel like exactly, but once he got there he didn’t find himself all that willing to leave. His lips caught hers over and over, punctuating his spontaneity and testing her interest.  
 
To his pleasure and surprise, he found that he was kissing a woman who seemed very interested in kissing him back. She pressed her mouth over his, opening her lips and tasting his with her tongue, running it over his in a way that made him want to pin her against that wall with every piece of his body. Her hands lifted, running over his chest. A few of her fingers rose as far as his collar, finding the now-loosened knot of his tie, and pulling.  
 
Eventually, they broke apart, breath returning to them in a rush. He blinked, looking back at her. She spoke first.  
 
“What was that for?”  
 
“Oh, well...” He was still trying to choose which of her features to focus his gaze on. “It seemed like the thing to do.” 
 
Her eyebrows lifted briefly, as she shifted her position slightly, caught between him and the wall. Her fingers still gripped at his tie.  
 
“You should check the iron foundry personnel records for a man between five foot nine and six foot three, with injuries to his forearms, wrists, and hands,” she said, still catching her breath.  
 
He straightened a little, completely disarmed. “Excuse me?” His own pulse was still trying to find a steady rhythm again.  
 
She swallowed, then gave a barely perceptible shrug. “In case I forget to mention it later.” 
 
“Later.”  
 
“Yes.” 
 
“So...You predict there will be a ‘later,’ later?” He slid one of his hands from her waist, farther around her back. She slipped easily into his arms. 
 
“There’s only one bed, Booth.”  
 
“Believe me, I’ve noticed. And I’m extremely grateful.” 
 
This time, she kissed him.  
 
 
* * * * *  
 

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