The Golden Age by bertie456 posted 29/12/2007

Posted 29/12/2007 12:18:07 AM AUTHOR: bertie456

So I thought I'd post another old(ish) story here. If you've read it before on FFN, then don't give away who the killer/victims are, but if you've not read it, hope you enjoy!

It's 13 chapters long and I'll try to post one a day. The song in the first line is "Addicted to Love" by Robert Palmer. (Not that it's important to the story - it's just a great song.)

Prologue

"You're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love..."

Forgetting the rest of the words, he hummed some semblance of the tune to himself as he strolled confidently down the brightly lit, clinically decorated corridors of the Jeffersonian. Passing a well-polished window, he glanced briefly to the side and smirked approvingly on seeing that he still looked remarkably good after a long day at work. A cocky smile spread across his face as he thought about what, or rather who, he would be doing that night and he unconsciously repeated the song under his breath, "Might as well face it, you're addicted to love."

Rounding the corner, his smile grew wider as he saw his partner for the evening sitting at her desk with her back to him. Sipping his coffee, he paused to observe her as she stood and leaned forward to retrieve a file from the opposite side of the desk, still unaware of his presence. He watched appreciatively as her skirt rode higher when she bent over further, exposing the backs of her creamy thighs and allowing him a glimpse of the black lacy panties hidden under her demure clothing.

He grinned darkly to himself, feeling a rush of arousal at knowing that she was wearing them for him. No matter how many women he'd been with, he still got a kick out of them dressing up to please him. His grin turned predatory as he looked back over at the woman before him, wondering if he could get her to repeat that position tonight in the privacy of their room, only this time without the panties.

His fantasising was interrupted by the shrill ring of the cell phone in his pocket. Without taking his eyes off the woman at the desk in front of him, he held it to his ear, answering automatically, "Matt Richards."

His heart sank as the unmistakable voice of his wife greeted him sweetly through the phone, "Hey honey, it's me."

Rolling his eyes, he answered without enthusiasm, "Hey Cath. What's up?"

"I was just wondering what time you'd be home," his wife asked timidly. "It's just, I was thinking maybe we could have dinner tonight. You know, since we've not really spent much time together recently."

Matt sighed inwardly. He was fully aware they hadn't spent much time together recently. He had however spent a lot of quality time with Janine from the cafeteria and Anna from the gift shop, and was currently hoping to spend that evening with Sally from Reception. He glanced over at his intended conquest and saw she was now facing him, her brown eyes wide and inquiring.

Flashing her a broad smile, he promptly turned away, speaking quietly so as not to arouse suspicion from either his wife or his mistress, "Listen, sweetheart, that sounds so great, but something's come up at work."

"Again? That's what you said on Tuesday." The annoyance in her voice was evident and Matt cursed himself for not keeping better track of his excuses.

"I know, baby, I know," he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone of voice. "But the damn FBI have been doing security checks all day. All the guards have to be interviewed and they want me to hang round in case there are any problems with anyone."

He held his breath, hoping she would buy it, and breathed a sigh of relief when she replied, somewhat reluctantly, "Well, I suppose you have to do your job."

"I knew you'd understand," he said, trying to keep the elation out of his voice. "Goodnight sweetheart. Don't wait up."

Hanging up before she could protest, Matt turned back to Sally, throwing his empty coffee cup in the trash with a casual shrug, "Damn FBI. They've been pestering me about these security checks all day."

Twirling a strand of hair around her fingers, she smiled seductively at him, "Guess that's what happens when you're chief of security for the whole Jeffersonian."

Matt chuckled slightly at her comment. Every woman he'd been with in the three months he'd been working at the Jeffersonian had made a similar remark about his job. Maybe it was the title, maybe it was the uniform, but whatever it was, it worked like a charm. Just the words "Chief of Security" made them putty in his hands and he was finally starting to get some of the action normally reserved for FBI agents or firemen. The fact he had a wife was only a minor complication.

But his wife wasn't on his mind now. Sally was. All 5 foot 9 of her. Wandered over to her, he slipped his arm easily round her waist and pulled her close, smiling as she blushed at his forward approach. Running his hand up her side, he flicked the top button of her shirt open, revealing a little more cleavage than was previously on view. Laughing, she moved to redo it, but he gently grasped her wrist, holding it away.

"Leave it," he whispered, his tone firm yet playful. "I promise, no-one's going to object." She let her hand drop back to her side and he stroked her cheek softly, "Good girl." Leaning in, he captured her lips with his and could almost feel her melting into his arms. Her hands moved up to his dark blond hair, but he stepped away swiftly before the embrace went any further.

She looked at him with puzzlement and he responded with a slight shake of the head, "Not here. I'll meet you at Motel 6 at 9 tonight and we can be together properly."

Enraptured, Sally nodded, "I'll see you there?"

Answering her with a final kiss on the lips, Matt Richards broke away quickly and headed out of the Jeffersonian without looking back. He knew that Sally would be watching him leave and he congratulated himself smugly as he mentally added her to his list of conquests, somewhat prematurely.

Thinking back to the last three months in his new job, he was suddenly very glad that he'd applied for the position at the Jeffersonian. In all honesty, he was surprised he'd got it, since he'd assumed it would go to someone who was older than his thirty-six years, but looking at the women who worked here, he was incredibly thankful that he had.

His point was further illustrated as another attractive woman walked quickly past him, her light brown hair bouncing on her shoulders as she headed back into the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal lab. Always the (apparent) gentleman, he gave her a polite nod as he greeted her, "Evening, Dr Brennan."

Unsurprisingly, she didn't acknowledge him, and Matt doubted if she'd even heard him as she dashed back inside, clearly preoccupied with something more important than him. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but watch as she went, impressed that even the science-types at the Jeffersonian were nice to look at.

However, he was fully aware that looking was as far as he could go in some cases, including that of Dr Brennan. Normally he didn't have a problem with women who already had a boyfriend or husband, since he was fairly certain that he would win if it came to a fight. His machismo had its limits though, and taking on a sniper-trained FBI agent, who was reputedly screwing the good Dr Brennan, was definitely further than he was willing to go, no matter how hot the girl was. But that didn't stop him looking.

Eyes fixed on her retreating form, he continued to wander crookedly down the corridor, but was brought back to reality with a jolt as he collided hard with the cart of the elderly janitor who was coming the other way. Straightening his jacket, he muttered an insincere apology before hurrying away again, cursing under his breath as he went and rubbing his bruised hip.

Reaching the parking lot, he took the stairs two at a time, not meeting anybody on his way up. It was now 7.30pm and all the museum visitors had left hours ago, along with most of the employees. Upon reaching level five, he did encounter the parking lot attendant, known to all as "Ticketin' Joe" for his favorite pastime of issuing fines to anyone who parked incorrectly or in a space that was not allocated to them. It was also well-known that visiting FBI agents incurred the majority of these fines, a fact which seemed to increase "Ticketin' Joe's" popularity amongst the Jeffersonian employees.

After a brief conversation with the attendant, who proudly announced that he had issued twenty-three tickets today, Matt made his way over to his SUV, making a mental note to get a parking space nearer the entrance. As he got nearer, he started to feel his head spin slightly. He tried to quicken his pace, wanting to sit down, but his legs felt oddly heavy, as though they had been encased in cement.

Leaning against a nearby car, he took several deep breaths, trying to fight the invisible waves that washed over him and caused his body to sway dizzily. It did him no good. He fell heavily to his knees, his vision swimming before his eyes, and called out desperately, "Help me! Somebody..."

His voice was weak and his intended shout came out more as a feeble croak. Helplessly, he looked around, hoping that someone would come by and find him, but the rapid movement of his head did more harm than good as his sight deteriorated further.

The sharp tap of footsteps suddenly penetrated the thick fog in his brain, and it was all Matt Richards could do to raise his head to the approaching stranger. His brows wrinkled in surprised recollection of the person standing before him but as he opened his mouth to speak, his body finally gave out and he slumped forward on the hard concrete, surrendering to unconsciousness.

Posted 29/12/2007 11:51:06 PM
by Susan1234

Oh, how I love this story--but then, you already knew that!

Posted 30/12/2007 00:31:00 AM
by jerseybones

yeah you're posting it here too. love mythology and i love bones so can you imagine how excited i am by having a mythology based bones story?!?!?!

Posted 30/12/2007 00:47:47 AM
by DBAngelfan

nice start

Posted 30/12/2007 04:28:23 AM
by bertie456

Thanks for the feedback! And jb, since I'm keen/sad enough to study mythology and the like full-time, I can understand the excitedness

(Btw, how many people agree with the first line of this chapter?)

Museum

Seeley Booth was hot, and he knew it.

It was barely 9.30 in the morning, but the oppressive humidity of July in DC had already set in, and despite the shortness of the walk from his car to the doors of the Jeffersonian, Booth could feel himself starting to sweat. Deciding against taking the unbelievably stuffy elevator down to ground level, he walked quickly down the stairs, sincerely hoping that the case he was about to embark on involved little or no physical legwork.

As he pushed open the doors to the Jeffersonian, he breathed a contented sigh as he was blasted with the full force of the air conditioning system, which someone had apparently set to "Arctic" in response to the heatwave. Rearranging his hair in one of the well-polished windows, he made his way towards the Medico-Legal lab, wondering why a bunch of squints merited a cooler working environment than the FBI. He shuddered to himself as he remembered the interesting collection of body odors he had smelt as he headed out of the Bureau earlier that morning, having been told, as usual, that there was a body at the Jeffersonian, and that the FBI should be involved.

Bracing himself for the sight of another decomposed corpse, Booth swung open the doors to the well-ventilated lab, calling, more out of habit than anything else, "What've you got for me, Bones?"

She didn't answer him. In fact, no-one answered him. Booth looked round, bewildered, as he saw that the Jeffersonian, usually filled with lab-coated squints and complex scientific discussion, was completely deserted.

"Bones?" he tried, uncertainly, "Camille? Angela?" As a last resort, he even ventured, "Hodgins?" but still no reply came.

Feeling slightly unnerved by the emptiness of the lab, Booth began to back out in the most masculine way possible, but stopped as a young man wearing a blue lab coat ran hurriedly into the lab, scooped up an armful of evidence bags and started to run out again, seemingly without noticing the agent's presence.

After two years of working with the Jeffersonian, Booth could now spot a squint at twenty paces, and seeing the lab coat and the telltale disregard for other people, he moved to intercept the newcomer, asking bluntly, "Where is everybody?"

The younger man jumped at the sound of his voice and looked at Booth as though he had just materialised from thin air. "Who... What...?" he stammered, taken aback by the stranger's presence in the empty room.

Rolling his eyes, Booth repeated slowly, "Everybody. As in, the entire lab?"

Recognition finally dawned on the scientist, who said with a triumphant smile, "Agent Booth!"

Nice work, Sherlock, Booth thought sarcastically, but managed to keep his annoyance under wraps, instead replying calmly, "Yep, that'd be me. Care to tell me why I just walked into a ghost-lab?"

"The body, Agent Booth," the man replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The temporary director ordered all hands on deck this morning. Since a Jeffersonian employee was found dead in the Jeffersonian Ancient World Exhibition, it follows that the murder should be investigated by the team at, well, the Jeffersonian." He realised his present company and added hastily, "And the FBI."

"Employee?" Booth repeated, anxiety evident as he asked, "Who was killed?"

"Matt Richards," the squint stated bluntly, before clarifying, "Head of Security." Seeing Booth's obvious relief, he added, "Don't worry, Sir; Dr Brennan's fine."

Booth stared at him, eyebrows raised, "Excuse me?"

The young man's eyes widened and he instinctively began to back off as he murmured, "I just meant that, what with her being your partner, and you two in a relationship and all, that it'd be natural for you to be concerned about her..."

"Relationship?" Booth inquired, his voice a mixture of disbelief and anger. "You think me and Bones are in a relationship?"

"No?" he whimpered fearfully as Booth took a step closer.

Taking another step, Booth spoke clearly, "Listen, kid; I know how office gossip works, particularly around you squints, whose sex lives are essentially non-existent, but the only relationship Dr Brennan and I are involved in is a working one, and if I hear you or anyone else saying otherwise..." He didn't articulate the threat, but placed his hand on his hip, revealing his gun sitting in its holster.

Message received, the young squint nodded nervously before dashing back out of the door as fast as his legs could carry him. Casting his eyes heavenward, Booth sighed loudly, trying to assure himself that his vehement denial had been to protect Brennan's reputation in the lab, and not in any way to mask his own, more amenable, feelings about a possible adjustment to their partnership. Groaning in annoyance as the familiar internal debate resurfaced, Booth headed off towards the Ancient World Exhibition, muttering under his breath, "Goddamn squints."

------

Stepping into the hall which housed the exhibition was unsettlingly like setting foot inside a "Where's Waldo?" cartoon. The entire room was filled with people in blue lab-coats and white latex gloves, all peering closely at whatever evidence was nearest to them. Feeling lost and slightly disturbed, Booth scanned the room for Brennan without success. Eventually, he decided to go with what he knew and headed straight for the body in the middle of the room, guessing his partner would be somewhere nearby.
As he got closer, he realised just how macabre the scene was. The body of Matt Richards was sitting upright in a throne-like chair, arms resting on the sides and head facing forward as though he was alive. The large metal thunderbolt that had been driven through his heart, however, confirmed that he wasn't. Walking carefully round the pool of blood on the floor, Booth realised just how rare it was that they found a victim that still had blood and found himself missing the simplicity of a skeleton.

His morbid thoughts were interrupted by a cheerful, if slightly teasing, greeting from Camille Saroyan, "Nice of you to finally show up, Seeley." He turned to see her standing protectively by the corpse, hands on her hips and a half-smile on her face as she asked, "What took you so long?"

"Hey, I got a message saying there was a body at the Jeffersonian," Booth said defensively, "How was I supposed to know it was actually at the Jeffersonian?" Cam raised an eyebrow and he held his hands up in protest, "Just saying..."

Smirking, she gestured to the body, her tone becoming more business-like. "Victim's name was Matthew Richards, Head of Security at the Jeffersonian. Appears to have been killed by a bronze thunderbolt through the heart, but I can confirm that when the body is moved to the lab. Lack of defensive wounds suggests he was unconscious or incapacitated when he was killed, but that too requires confirmation."

Booth waited in expectant silence and she suddenly remembered about the other members of the team, "Um, Angela is taking photos of the scene, but she thinks there's something familiar about the body placement, so you may want to look into past cases. Hodgins has so far found a feather, a hair and what looks like gold flakes on the body, but again-"

"You'll know more at the lab," Booth finished with a sigh. Changing tack, he asked hopefully, "Anything you can tell me about this guy? I know how much you love finding out people's life stories." The pathologist rolled her eyes and Booth flashed her his most persuasive grin as he pressed further, "Any wives, girlfriends, vengeful exes in the picture?"

"Try all of the above," she replied simply. He pulled out his notebook as she elaborated, "He had a wife, Catherine, and a new girlfriend on the side practically every month."

"Do you know the names of any of the girlfriends?"

Dr Saroyan shook her head. "I know they all worked in the Jeffersonian somewhere, but he was close to so many women that it was difficult to keep track of who he was sleeping with." A small smile played on her lips as she said, "He was a notorious flirt."

Shifting uncomfortably, Booth spoke seriously, "Listen, Camille, I'm sorry but I've got to ask; were you and he..."

Putting him out of his misery, she shook her head firmly, "I was not having sex with him, Seeley. He flirted with me from time to time, but I don't think there's a woman in this building that couldn't say the same. He even came on to Dr Brennan once..." Booth's expression darkened and Cam added by way of reassurance, "I don't think she noticed."

"Speaking of Bones..." he began, as subtly as possible.

Cam rolled her eyes. "She's over there, Seeley."

Following her gesture, Booth was surprised to see Brennan standing away from the bustling throng of people, engrossed in one of the museum exhibits. Frowning in confusion, he made his way swiftly through the crowd and walked up close behind her, hands in his pockets and shoes clicking loudly on the marble floor. Standing at her shoulder, he gave a low whistle and said casually, "Nice ass."

Brennan spun round to look at him, surprised by his comment, but Booth merely pointed innocently to the donkey depicted on the Greek vase in front of her and repeated, "Really, great ass."

Not wishing to acknowledge his innuendo, she asked irritably, "What do you want, Booth?"

"Well, I wouldn't say no to a pool table in your office, but, failing that, I mostly want to work this case," he answered, ignoring her annoyance. "However, you seem to be actively not working this case. What's going on, Bones?"

She put her hands on her hips and nodded her head towards the busy crime scene, "Do you see any bones in there?"

"No?" Booth replied nervously, suddenly sympathising with the squint he had interrogated earlier.

"Exactly!" Brennan declared triumphantly. "My knowledge, and therefore my presence, is entirely superfluous here. I've got remains to identify, papers to read, research to do, but since Dr Goodman's replacement is forcing everyone to work on the case, I have to stay here, where I am essentially useless to the investigation."

"I was wondering why Cam was so happy this morning," he said with a grin, before clarifying, "She doesn't have to fight you for the body."

Temperance shot him a glare but Booth was unable to hold back a smile as she glowered at him. Wrapping an arm round her shoulders, he began to guide her back to the scene, speaking cheerfully, "I'm sure I can find a use for you, Bones. There's interviews to be done, surveillance footage to be checked, and there's the all important donut-run. What do you say?"

Relenting slightly, she gave him a small smile, "Fine, I'll help with interrogations and looking at surveillance footage..."

"That's my girl," Booth said with a cocky wink.

"But you can get your own donuts," she finished firmly.

He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by an urgent shout from Angela, "Guys, take a look at this."

Exchanging concerned glances, Brennan and Booth hurried back to the center of the room to find Cam, Angela and Hodgins huddled round a small piece of paper which Angela held gingerly in a gloved hand. Wordlessly, she handed it to the anthropologist, and bewilderment spread across Brennan and Booth's faces as they read the contents of the note:

What comes up must go back down;

Adulterers deserve no crown.

Children learn by what they're taught;

How they're shown, not how they ought.

The impure will be purged and then

The Golden Age will come again.

Cronos.

There was silence among the group as they exchanged confused glances, unsure of what to make of the note.

Brennan was the first to speak, asking Angela, "Where did you find this?"

"In his pocket," the artist replied quietly.

Silence descended again temporarily as they all appeared to be lost in thought.

It was broken for a second time as Booth clapped his hands together in a motivational fashion, speaking decisively, "Okay, so, crappy rhyme scheme aside, what does this mean?" He received no answer. "Come on, squints! Any ideas?" Turning to his partner, he asked, almost as a last hope, "Bones?"

She looked up from the note and met his eyes, shaking her head, "I don't know what this means."

Posted 31/12/2007 00:38:11 AM
by jerseybones

"Seeley Booth was hot, and he knew it."
Bertie, you certainly know how to detail every single solitary element that makes booth so friggin sexy don't you: His protectiveness, his masculinity, testosterone, sensitivity, body, sweetness, smile...

what was i saying?

oh yeah, great job.

Posted 31/12/2007 00:59:41 AM
by DBAngelfan

*raises hand* I agree with that line!

If Cronos with a C is the same as Kronos with a K, it means "Time"...

lol at the "ass" part

Posted 31/12/2007 04:35:12 AM
by bertie456

Thanks jb and dbaf (what do I call you for short?) for the feedback! And Cronos is the same as Kronos, but it doesn't mean time; Chronos (with an 'h') is the father of time. I know, Greek words are stupidly similar sometimes... Hopefull all will be explained below...

Zeus

Brennan and Booth collapsed onto the couch with a sigh, both of them sweaty and exhausted.

Angela, Hodgins and Cam looked at them in silence from across the coffee table with expressions of mild disdain on their faces. Angela was the first to speak, a mock innocence in her voice, "So, how was the FBI air conditioning today?"

The pair on the couch glared back, their flushed faces and dishevelled appearance answering for them.

Hodgins grinned at the two of them, stretching happily in his chair and saying, teasingly, "Well, I was kinda cold today. What with the dehumidifiers and the fans and the large, cool rooms, I almost wished I could spend my whole day trapped in a tiny, stuffy, poorly ventilated interrogation room..."

If looks could kill, Brennan's stare would have sent Hodgins to an early grave. Booth, however, was leaning towards the more old-fashioned approach and rested his hand on his gun as he spoke sarcastically to the entomologist, "Oh please, keep talking. At least that way, my day won't be a total loss."

Sensing the need to distract Booth from shooting her employees, Cam interrupted the staring match between the two men, her tone cheerful yet business-like, "So, I'm guessing you didn't get anything out of the interviews today?"

Still glowering at Hodgins, Booth replied in annoyance, "Nothing except a severe case of déjà vu." He motioned to the stack of files on the table with a sigh, "Mr Richards had a wife, a mistress and two ex-girlfriends, all of whom said exactly the same thing in the interviews."

"They all thought that he was the perfect man, until we told them about the other women," Brennan elaborated. "Then they either cried or yelled for a while."

She looked over at Booth who added with a wince, "Mostly yelled. Anyway," he continued, "None of them have great alibis - home alone, in the car, that kind of thing - and given that Matt Richards was essentially a cheating bastard, all of them have a pretty plausible motive." He looked up at Cam, "So this is where I need you to do the squint thing. You know, narrow it down a little."

He smiled at her hopefully and, returning the smile, Cam flipped open a file, reading aloud, "Mr Richards' C.O.D. was cardiac arrest due to the wound to the heart. I found trace of a benzodiazepine in his blood stream; it was too degraded to pinpoint which one but it's safe to assume that he was heavily sedated when he was killed."

Booth nodded, "So this gonzodiazepine-"

"Benzodiazepine," Brennan, Hodgins and Cam all corrected.

Oblivious to their disdain, Booth continued undeterred, "This stuff is controlled, right? Prescrïption only?"

"Yes, but there are lots of different types on the market. Without knowing the exact drug, it's kind of hard to narrow it down," she offered apologetically.

Booth sighed. "So we got nothing."

"Not exactly," Angela chipped in, a note of hopefulness in her voice. Still slumped on the couch, Booth and Brennan both turned their heads to look at the artist, and she carried on, "The security cameras were disabled in the main exhibition hall last night, so you should probably look at people who work here." There was a slightly awkward silence and she clarified, "But not us, obviously."

Shaking his head, Booth said despondently, "Three of the four women we interviewed work in the Jeffersonian, and his wife could easily have had access to the building. Sorry, but that's not narrowing it down any." He scanned the group of scientists sitting in front of him. "Anything else? What about the note you found?"

Angela, Hodgins and Cam all shifted uncomfortably, none of them especially eager to speak up. Frowning in confusion at their avoidance, Booth sat up, his interest now piqued. "What did you find?" he asked suspiciously.

Sighing loudly, Angela met his eyes and said simply, "The dead guy is Zeus."

Both Brennan and Booth stared mutely at her and Angela wrinkled her nose in annoyance. "Stop giving me the "you're crazy" stare. You asked what we found, and I'm telling you."

Brennan leaned forward, saying patiently, "Ange, you do realise that Zeus is the mythical patriarch of an ancient and no longer practised religion?"

Her friend rolled her eyes, "I didn't mean that he is actually Zeus - just that the killer wanted to make him Zeus, metaphorically speaking."

"What's your evidence?" Temperance inquired.

Pulling her sketch book out of her bag, Angela leaned forward with a smile. "Exhibit A." Opening the book, she showed the partners two sketches, one of Matt Richards' corpse, positioned in the chair, and one of what looked like an seated man holding a thunderbolt.

Pointing to the latter, she explained, "This is a rough sketch of the statue of Zeus at Olympia, which was one of the Seven Wonders of the World until it was destroyed. Now, no-one knows exactly what it looked like, but this is the generally accepted depiction. The positioning of the body is almost identical to the statue, except that the thunderbolt has been driven through his heart instead of being held in his hand."

"And there's no beard," Booth added helpfully.

Brennan shook her head. "That's not conclusive proof, Angela. For all we know, Matt Richards could have just been sitting down when he was killed."

"Which is why we have Exhibits B and C," she replied with a confident smile and gave Hodgins a prompting nudge.

Clearing his throat, the entomologist opened the file that had been resting on his knees. "Exhibit B. I found hairs from a Bos taurus, feathers from a Cygnus olor and flakes of what appear to be flattened gold."

"Once more with English?" Booth asked tiredly.

"Bull hair, swan feathers and gold leaf," Brennan translated casually, her attention still fixed on Hodgins as she inquired further, "What does that have to do with Zeus? As far as I remember, he was king of the Greek gods and he controlled the weather, not animals or metals."

"Didn't he had sleep with someone while he was in the form of a bull?" Booth questioned uncertainly and all four heads swivelled round to face him in surprise.

"Yeah, Europa," Angela answered, slightly stunned by his unexpected answer. "He also had sex as a swan and as a shower of gold." Temperance raised her eyebrows and the artist smiled patiently. "Try not to think of the mechanics of it, sweetie."

Ignoring her latter statement, Booth nodded in recollection, "Yeah, I remember now. So what, our killer is planting evidence of these affairs on his body?"

"Looks like it," Cam added, still staring at the agent in surprise. There was a moment's silence before she said, confused, "I never would've had you down as a Classical scholar, Seeley."

He shrugged, apparently ignorant of their shock at his sudden knowledge. "I read the myths when I was a kid." Becoming aware of their intense gazes, he asked, uncomfortably, "Didn't everyone?"

"No, dude," Hodgins replied with a smirk. "Angela only knows the stories because she's seen pictures of them."

Feeling mildly embarrassed, Booth held his hands up defensively, "Hey, they were good stories. Anyway, is it so strange that I know something?"

Resisting the urge to answer in the affirmative, Brennan quickly turned the topic of conversation back to the case at hand. "What's Exhibit C, Angela?"

"That would be this." She dropped the evidence bag containing the note on the table.

Booth rolled his eyes. "Ah, the gloat note. Always my favorite part of any crime scene."

Ignoring her partner, Brennan asked curiously, "Did you work out what it means?"

"Yes and no." Pointing to the typed name at the bottom, Angela elaborated, "Cronos was the father of some of the Greek gods and ruled for what is usually referred to as "The Golden Age" but he was later overthrown by his son, Zeus. These last two lines seem to mean that our killer identifies himself with Cronos and so killed his "impure" son, Zeus, since he had many affairs."

"Like Matt Richards," Cam clarified.

Brennan nodded. "It's logical, trying to reclaim a better time by removing any impurities associated with the current situation." The rest of them looked at her with mild revulsion and she protested, "I said it's logical, not that it should be condoned."

Changing the subject, she peered closely at the note, "So these first two lines refer to Zeus himself. "What goes up" meaning his position as ruler of the Heavens and "adulterers deserve no crown" linking to his role as king of the gods."

Angela nodded, "That's what we thought."

"Well, what about the middle lines?" Booth asked, not fully satisfied. "I mean, I'm with you for the whole Cronos' revenge, Matt Richards is Zeus thing, but what does this mean? "Children learn by what they're taught, How they're shown not how they ought." How does that fit into all this?"

"We were hoping you'd have some ideas," Cam admitted.

"Actually, we were hoping Dr Brennan'd have some ideas," Hodgins corrected, his tone slightly mocking. "But since you've turned into Myth-boy, I guess this is your thing."

Booth raised his eyebrows and asked incredulously, "Myth-boy?"

"Hey, you've mocked us for years for knowing things," he answered with a grin. "Payback's a bitch."

"Okay, first off, I mock you because you're weird, not because of what you know," Booth countered, feeling slightly unnerved at being picked on by a squint. "And second, you call me that again and I will shoot you."

Knowing he was beaten, Hodgins wisely kept his mouth shut as Booth re-read the note carefully before shaking his head, "Nope, I got no idea."

There was an audible sigh of disappointment around the table and Cam got to her feet, yawning tiredly. "Sleep on it. There's no sense in spending all night staring at old evidence." No-one else made a move to leave. "Go home, people! I know that's a foreign concept for some of you, but get out of here. There's nothing we can do tonight; we may as well look again tomorrow with fresh eyes."

Angela looked over at Hodgins with a suggestive smile. "She's got a point. I can think of ways I would much rather be spending the evening..."

Not needing to be told twice, Hodgins got to his feet with a grin, nodding gratefully to Cam as he said "Goodnight, Dr Saroyan."

Sliding his arm around Angela's waist, they began to walk towards the door as she called back, "Go home, Bren! Find a fun way to spend the evening." She glanced over at Booth as she added, "Preferably involving another person and dessert toppings."

"Goodnight, Ange," Temperance said, firmly, ignoring her friend's helpful suggestion.

When the pair had left, whispering furtively to each other, Cam made her own move for the door, saying with a smile, "Make sure she goes home, Seeley."

As the door closed behind her, Booth got to his feet with a tired groan, before facing his partner with his hands on his hips, "You heard the lady, Bones."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan asked, "Why does she care whether I go home or not?"

"She's probably just thinking of the amount of overtime she's going to have to pay you if you stay here all night," he responded with a grin. "Now, are you going to go home of your own accord or am I going to have to throw you in the trunk of my car and drive you there myself?"

She folded her arms across her chest as she raised her eyebrows challengingly. "I'd like to see you try."

He sighed with mock regret. "And any other day, I would take pleasure in forcibly abducting you from work, but I think we've spent enough time getting hot and sweaty with each other today." He shot her a playful smile and said innocently, "Unless you disagree?"

Getting to her feet, Temperance reluctantly gave in. "I'll go home." Picking up her entirely unnecessary coat from her chair, she headed to the door, giving Booth a teasing smile as she said in passing, "Wouldn't want you to strain yourself if things got too rough."

She walked out without looking back, a smirk playing on the corners of her lips. Booth could only watch her go, thinking that he definitely needed a cold shower and no longer just because of the heatwave.

Feedback welcome!

Posted 01/01/2008 00:50:43 AM
by DBAngelfan

Oh ok. Thanks for clarifying. More soon!

Posted 01/01/2008 06:02:39 AM
by bertie456

Thanks, DBAF!

Ares and Aphrodite

"Ahh..."

Brennan and Booth both let out an involuntary moan of pleasure as the blast of cold air from the SUV's air conditioning hit them. A second later, they both realised the usual context for those types of moans and an awkward silence swiftly descended over the moving vehicle.

Opting to avoid the ever-present subject of the heatwave, Brennan asked in her most professional manner, "So what do we know about these bodies?"

Keeping one eye on the road and one hand on the wheel, Booth rummaged in his pocket for his notepad, containing the information about the bodies that had been found early than morning in one of the least pleasant parts of town. Seeing that his distracted search was not yielding any results, Brennan reached over and slid her hand into his interior jacket pocket, only to be met by a surprised protest. "Bones!"

Rolling her eyes, she felt her nimble fingers close around the pad as she replied, "Concentrate on the road and stop being such a baby."

Booth tried to push her away with his elbows while keeping his hands on the wheel as he took a sharp corner, saying irritably, "I don't appreciate being frisked while I'm driving, Bones."

"Just trying to help," she said defensively as she sat back in her seat, triumphantly clutching the elusive book. "You looked like you were struggling..."

"Struggling?" Booth asked incredulously. "I was not struggling. Just because you are incredibly impatient does not mean that I was struggling. I was merely taking my time."

"Of course," she replied with more than a hint of sarcasm. Flipping open the notepad, she scanned the most recent pages, frowning. "How do you read this?"

He sighed in annoyance. "Great, first you steal my pad, then you insult my handwriting."

Brennan peered closer at the page in front of her, asking with genuine confusion, "Is this even in English?"

"What? Yes, it's English," he replied irritably, snatching the book from her hands. "What, you think I write all my notes in Chinese or something?"

"No, I can read Chinese," she answered seriously.

Suppressing a growl of frustration, Booth read aloud quickly, "Two bodies were found this morning by the local PD in a building used mainly by addicts and prostitutes. They think that one of them's a prostitute and the other's a client, but the cops said that the scene was "weird," and so called us in."

"Weird in a very subjective definition," Brennan stated knowledgeably. "What many people consider to be weird may be something we see every day."

Not wanting to be defined as someone whose job consisted of "weird," Booth turned the focus back to the more normal aspects of the case. "We don't know who called it in, other than it was a man, but we'll get the audio tapes and see if that gives us any clues."

"Do you think it could be the killer?" she asked intrigued, but the agent gave a non-committal shrug.

"Could be, but chances are it's just some client who didn't wanted to share his business with law enforcement. We'll look into it." Temperance settled back in her seat as Booth continued. "When the cops got there, they said they found a note which looked to be from the killer, so they called it into the FBI. They then joined the two large dots and called me. I called you and, like magic, here we are."

Brennan looked at her watch with a puzzled frown. "It's only 7:30am. What time did this happen?"

"I got the call at about 6:30 this morning, but I wasn't exactly asleep so it didn't take long to get ready."

"You don't start work till 9; why weren't you sleeping?" she inquired, before realising what her partner may have been doing instead of sleeping. "Oh."

Booth grinned. "It wasn't that, Bones. My AC's on the fritz at the moment and it's stuck at the temperaure of summer in Texas, when I was kind of looking for winter in Alaska. Obviously it's not as bad as the first circle of Hell that is the Hoover building, but it's not great for sleeping in."

Brennan gave him a sympathetic smile but kept her mouth closed until they reached their destination, deciding that it was best not to mention that her apartment was the temperature of spring in Vancouver and that she'd had a great night's sleep.

Arriving at the building, it was immediately obvious why people wouldn't want to admit they came here. Many of the windows were boarded up and those that weren't had panels of broken glass from where rocks had been thrown through. The lighting in the hallways was flickery at best and the stairwells smelt strongly of urine and cigarette smoke. After making their way through the corridors avoiding the stray needles on the ground, Brennan and Booth finally reached the crime scene where some miserable-looking cops stood guard.

Ducking under the tape, they saw the rest of the squints were already there, standing mutely around the bodies, seemingly unsure of what to make of them.

As much as Temperance hated to admit it, the descrïption provided by the cop appeared to be accurate; the scene was "weird." The bodies lay on the bed, still entwined as though mid-coitus, with the woman, who Brennan assumed was the prostitute, on the bottom, and her client on top. Both were completely naked, with bleeding wounds on their heads from where the killer had presumably done his work. However, the strangest and most noticeable aspect of the macabre presentation was the large net that had been draped over the dead couple, with a note visibly attached.

The stunned silence was broken by a low whistle from Booth. "So much for safe sex."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan turned to the team standing by the wall. "What have you found?"

Angela shook her head, speaking quietly, "We've taken pictures but we were waiting for you before we moved the bodies."

"Why?" she asked, more bluntly than she intended. "These aren't skeletons; there's no real reason for me to be here at all."

Choosing her words carefully, the artist gave her a small smile. "Actually, sweetie, we were thinking Booth might know what this is meant to represent. We looked at the note, but..."

She trailed off as the anthropologist walked over to the bodies and peered at the note, reading aloud;

Sin pervades both love and war

They have been cleansed; they live no more.

The key to life is moderation,

Excess leads to ruination.

The impure will be purged and then

The Golden Age will come again.

Cronos.

She glanced up at Booth, expectantly. "Any ideas?"

Seeing his silent shrug as he looked closely at the bodies, Cam cut in with what little explanation she could offer. "The woman's ID puts her as Jessica Lynn and the cops says she's a local prostitute. The man's wearing dog-tags with the name Chris Johnson on them, but we don't know if that's him or if he got them from somewhere else." She paused as she saw Booth's eyes light up in realisation. With a slight smirk, she asked curiously, "What's the myth this time, Seeley?"

Ignoring the teasing tone in her voice, Booth pointed to the pair on the bed, saying confidently, "He's supposed to be Ares and the woman's Aphrodite."

"The god of war and the goddess of love?" Brennan inquired, more to question Booth's opinions than the Greek gods' job titles.

"Soldier and a hooker," Hodgins said with a grin. "Makes sense in that twisted serial killer sort of way. But what's with the net?"

Everyone's eyes immediately swivelled to Booth, including those of the two cops by the door who were now quite interested in the proceedings. Sighing, he began to speak with the air of a reluctant story teller. "Aphrodite, the goddess of love, was married to Hephaestus, who was the god in charge of metalwork and forging things. Now, Hephaestus was ugly and crippled and kind of impotent, whereas his wife really, really wasn't." Seeing Hodgins raise his eyebrows, he clarified, "She was like an Ancient Greek Playboy bunny."

Getting a nod of comprehension from the entomologist, Booth continued, "Anyway, she wasn't getting any from her husband, so she started having an affair with Ares, the god of war. He also happened to be her brother, but that really wasn't a big issue for them. The affair went on for a while, until news of it got back to her husband."

"Uh-oh," Angela commented with a grin, finding herself enjoying the story.

Booth went on, "Hephaestus didn't really want to take on the god of war because, you know, cripple; so he waited until the two lovers were in bed together and threw some sort of magical net over them, trapping them there so that the other gods could see what had been going on."

He gestured conclusively to the bodies in front of them. "Like I said, Ares and Aphrodite."

Brennan nodded slowly. "So the first two lines of the note refer to this. "Cronos" is getting rid of "love and war" because they had an affair with each other."

Grim realisation dawned on Booth. "That's what the middle two lines of the last note meant. "Children learn by what they're taught, How they're shown not how they ought." Zeus was the father of Ares and Aphrodite..."

"And so the children learnt about adultery from the father," Cam finished, before the implication of Booth's words hit her too. "Oh my god..."

"He'd planned this already," Brennan stated, horrified. "He'd left a clue in the last note; he knew he was going to kill again."

All eyes travelled back to the note still perched on top of the bodies.

"Does that mean that there's another clue in that one?" Angela asked softly, not really wanting to know the answer.

Slipping on some gloves, Temperance retrieved the note and scanned it again. "The last couplet appears to be a refrain - it's exactly the same as the one on Matt Richards' body. The first two lines of each note correspond to the body or bodies that they are found with, in this case the "love and war" reference and previously the mention of "adulterers deserve no crown.""

She took a deep breath as she reached an unwelcome conclusion. "If what Booth says is correct, and the middle lines of the first apply to this murder, then it's logical to assume that the killer will follow the same pattern."

"There's going to be another murder," Booth simplified, angrily, "And the bastard's giving us a sneak preview."

Posted 01/01/2008 08:41:25 PM
by miller0259

this story is pretty sweet!! I'm excited b/c I love bones and greek mythology!!! Good deal! Can't wait for more!

Posted 02/01/2008 06:07:03 AM
by ToZiKa

I don't know much about mythology but I love Bones and the story is good....so I'm reading it.

It is good to read a story in which Booth is actually for once the one who knows more than the others....I would have thought Bones would know at least some of this stories....

Looking forward to the next installment.

Posted 02/01/2008 06:22:56 AM
by CheeseBK

oh, I remember I read this at ff - one of my favourites... I love it

Posted 02/01/2008 07:53:47 AM
by bertie456

Thanks for the feedback guys! And Toz, I'm never really sure how many of the myths are common knowledge, so maybe Brennan would know more than I'm giving her credit for. Oh well, I like knowledgeable Booth sometimes...

Analysis

"Tell me again why you get the good air conditioning."

Cam, Hodgins, Angela and Brennan all looked up, a mixture of amusement and pity on their faces when they saw Booth enter the lab, clearly having suffered during his morning spent at the Hoover building.

"The government don't want the heat interfering with our work," Brennan answered matter-of-factly.

"Your work?" the agent repeated incredulously. "Correct me if I'm wrong but your work involves dead people, holograms and bugs. It does not involve possible murder suspects who get irritable and violent when it's too hot."

"Trouble in custody today?" Cam asked unconcernedly while she continued to study her autopsy notes.

Sighing, Booth nodded. "You could say that. My whole morning was spent helping to subdue suspects who decided to attack agents during interrogation, and let me tell you, trying to pin down some sweaty bank robber who bites when angry? Not the best way to keep cool."

"Sounds like an R rated prison movie," Hodgins said, with a grin that quickly vanished as Booth fixed him with a cold stare.

Seeing Booth's face, Angela couldn't help but add teasingly, "You know, you could probably make a fortune off those FBI surveillance tapes."

Cam and Brennan tried to hide their smirks as Booth looked round, feeling victimised. "Where the hell's karma when you need it?"

Doing her best to stay professional, despite the not entirely unappealing image that Hodgins had conjured up, Cam cleared her throat. "I'm assuming you want to know about the case?"

Thankful for the respite, Booth nodded encouragingly. "That'd be a start."

Glancing down at her notes, the pathologist relayed the information, "Cause of death for both victims was subdural hematoma. We found a bloody baseball bat under the bed, and the DNA samples on that matched the two victims. The only fingerprints on the bat were those of Jessica Lynn, and unless she bludgeoned herself to death in flagrante, it's a fairly safe bet that the killer wore gloves."

"There were no relevant particulates on the bat handle," Hodgins chimed in. "I'm still working on the net, but so far I've found traces of Ictaluridae, Hypophthalmichthys molitrix and Perca flavescens."

"Meaning?" Booth prompted tiredly.

"Catfish, carp and perch," Brennan supplied and he rolled his eyes at Hodgins.

"You could've just said it was a fishing net."

The entomologist grinned. "Where would be the fun in that? Anyway, I'm still trying to narrow down the location where the net was used. I've found some interesting samples of Sagittaria latifolia and Typha latifolia, but I haven't yet established the ratio of-"

"Well, go establish," Booth interrupted, unwilling to listen any more long and complex plant names. Happy to get away from the armed and testy agent, Hodgins headed back towards his desk while Booth turned to Dr Saroyan. "Have you confirmed the ID on the victims yet?"

Angela answered for her, "The woman is definitely Jessica Lynn, but we knew that at the scene. I checked the military personnel records and Chris Johnson's picture matches our guy. His unit just returned from a tour of Iraq - they flew into Dulles Airport yesterday afternoon."

Booth nodded in apparent comprehension. "He must've been looking for a way to wind down." Seeing their surprised looks, he said defensively, "I served, okay? I know what guys like to do when they get back from active duty."

"Did you ever..." Brennan questioned curiously.

"What? No!" Booth replied, insulted. "You think I was talking about myself?" Not wanting to hear her answer, he continued, "Look, all I know is that some of my buddies would head straight to places like that as soon as they flew in. It's pretty common behavior; if our killer had known there was a flight coming in, it would've been pretty easy for him to find a soldier with a hooker last night."

"You think it wasn't a personal attack?" Cam inquired, surprised.

He shook his head. "These killings seem more about making some sort of statement, rather than taking out specific individuals. The adulterer, the prostitute, the soldier - it's like these victims have just played a part in his grand design."

"So, what, he's choosing people at random who fulfill his criteria?" Angela asked, concerned. "There aren't any entomologist-dating forensic artists in Greek mythology are there?"

Smirking, Booth reassured her, "I think you're safe on that count." Glancing round the group, he asked, "You got anything else?"

Cam shook her head. "Angela's working on the CCTV tapes from the surrounding buildings to see if she can find a guy with a net, but there wasn't much footage available."

"People really don't want to be seen around there," the artist added helpfully before her boss continued.

"Hodgins is busy working on that net and I still need to go over the bodies for traces of anything other than sexual activity." Giving him a playful smile, she asked, "So what did the great detective powers of the FBI come up with?"

"Not much," Booth admitted. "Before I was asked to help with the interrogation room fights, I called the four women suspected in the Matt Richards killing, and they all had solid alibis for last night. We're back to square one on the identity of the murderer and I've got no other suspects at the moment."

"We'll see what we can do about that," she replied with a smile. "Dr Brennan's working on deciphering the notes, but I'm sure you'll be much more help than a computer."

Ignoring her mocking tone, Booth turned and grinned at his partner, who did not seem overly enthused about her task. Frowning in confusion, he walked over to her as Angela and Cam swiftly departed to their respective posts, leaving the two of them alone on the raised platform.

"What's up, Bones?" Booth inquired with a friendly smile. "Am I that horrible to work with?"

The anthropologist smirked slightly, but her eyes still seemed downcast. Beginning to get worried, Booth asked gently, "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

Not expecting such a concerned reaction, Temperance looked up at him, shaking her head, "I'm fine, Booth. It's just..." Annoyance crept into her voice as she explained, "I read bones. That's what I do, that's what I'm good at, but so far I don't have any bones to look at. Instead, I'm stuck tagging along to interrogations and researching things I know nothing about. How am I of any use to this case?"

Her anger at the current situation was evident, but underneath her obvious frustration, Booth could see that she was genuinely upset at feeling so left out. Giving her an easy smile, he spoke sincerely, "Bones, you are anything but useless. I've helped you with your stuff in the past, with picking up burnt body bits and finding chunks of bone and other disgusting things; it's just what partners do, and right now, I could really use your help with this note. I know it's not your thing, but my mythology knowledge is kind of rusty, and I could do with some internet assisted reminders." He flashed her his most persuasive smile. "Come on, you know how much you love correcting me..."

Despite herself, Brennan felt the corners of her lips tug upwards in a small smile. Rolling her eyes at him, she said, with feigned reluctance, "Fine. I'll help."

Knowing that she was glad to be needed, Booth placed his hand between her shoulder blades and guided her towards her office as she added, "But I'm still not going for donuts."

He opened his mouth in mock-protest, but before he could speak, an sudden silence fell over the lab.

Unsure why it had gone so quiet, or indeed, what noise was there before, Booth turned to Brennan, only to see she was looking up at the ceiling. Following her gaze, he saw that the large fans on the ceiling had stopped turning and quickly realised that the background noise had been from the constant rumble of the air conditioning units.

"Tell me that's not what I think it is," he said hopefully, praying that she would comply with his request.

Temperance just looked up at him and Booth's heart sank at her words. "The air conditioning's stopped working."

Apparently unphased, she headed for her office and her computer, while Booth just stood in the large, mostly metallic lab, wondering how long it would be until it reached the temperature of a sauna and feeling even more depressed when he reached an estimate. Sighing despondently, he followed his partner to her office, mentally telling karma that it could've at least waited until he was out of the lab before breaking the AC.

Sorry that one was kinda short, but next one is way more fun. It is involves B&B and ice cubes...

Posted 02/01/2008 11:19:38 AM
by ToZiKa

bertie you can't just say something about B/B and icecubes and then go away...
that's just the wrong thing to do, you know?
you should have stayed quite...now I'm wondering what will happen till you post again...

but I loved this chapter althought it was kinda short
and I like a knowledgeable Booth too!

don't think that many of this myths would be common knowledge and it is could to know that not even Bones knows everything...

Posted 02/01/2008 11:28:01 AM
by bertie456

Sorry, Toz! It's up on ffn if you can't wait, but I'll post it up here soon.

And please let me know if the myths/explanations don't make sense - I'll gladly clear anything up if you need me to! I don't know how many are common knowledge, but I remember most of them from when I was a kid, so I'm hoping Booth's knowledge is vaguely plausible... *hopeful smile* But I am doing a degree in what is basically mythology at the moment, so sorry if it gets too detailed!

Posted 02/01/2008 12:14:59 AM
by Bella Loony

Bertie,

Well slap my ass and call me surprised!! I just found this little gem and it's AMAZING!! I am loving the interaction of the team, it's brilliant, plus the way the story intertwines so nicely!! Very well done sweetie, I can't wait to read more!!

Bella

Posted 02/01/2008 05:30:56 PM
by ToZiKa

hmmm I actually tried reading it at ff.net but I can't at the moment because all I got to see is that htey have some kind of problems and that I should send them a mail....
so I will just have to wait till tomorrow
it can't be that long....

the explanations of the myths made sense although I neer heard any of this myths...I kinda knew the people involved but nothing about what happend to them...so I even get a free lesson in mythology...

oh and by the way I don't think that it is going to be too detailed!

Posted 03/01/2008 03:18:40 AM
by bertie456

Thanks again for the feedback!

Ecstasy

It was times like these that Seeley Booth wished he was a woman.

He and Brennan had been sequestered in her office for hours, trying to solve the clues given by their friendly neighborhood serial killer, while the temperature in the Jeffersonian rose and rose. Cam had poked her head round the door briefly to assure them that the air conditioning was being fixed, but, to Booth's annoyance, she had also asked them to stay in the building instead of going to the FBI headquarters in case their help was needed with any new discoveries.

However, new discoveries had been few and far between, and Booth was now starting to take back everything he had said about the Hoover building's weak but functioning ventilation system. Sitting on Brennan's couch, he wondered if it was physically possible for a human to melt. His hair on the back of his neck was damp with sweat, and his white shirt clung to his back. Wishing he'd worn his wifebeater, Booth pushed the sleeves back up over his elbows and unfastened the third button on the front of his shirt, having discarded his tie long ago.

If he'd been alone, he might have considered removing his shirt entirely, but he was fairly certain that Brennan wouldn't tolerate any kind of nudity in her office. Social conventions hadn't stopped him from removing his shoes and socks though, and his bare feet currently rested on her coffee table while he stared at the information she'd printed off the computer and debated whether he would lose all masculine credibility if he rolled up his pant legs to let some air get to his calves.

Glancing over at his partner, he saw to his frustration that she didn't seem to be sharing his discomfort. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, leaving her neck bared to any cool air that could be found. She had removed her over-shirt early on, and now sat in a strapped top that left her shoulders, arms and chest uncovered. Her heavy brown boots lay under the desk and she tucked her bare legs underneath herself as she sat on her chair.

But what Booth was most envious of was her skirt. Not that he had any particular desire to start dressing in women's clothing, but seeing how her light, knee-length skirt floated as she moved, letting the air circulate around her legs, he suddenly found himself feeling jealous that women got to wear cool, floaty skirts to work, while he was stuck in his constricting and very warm dress pants.

Unable to concentrate on his work, Booth got to his feet with a groan, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as he moved. Too exhausted to form full sentences, he looked at his partner and pointed towards the door, stating his intention simply, "Ice." Brennan didn't look up from her computer screen, instead just giving him a nod as he went.

Returning a few minutes later, clutching a cupful of ice that was already starting to melt in his grasp, Booth was gratified to see that her cool exterior was beginning to slip. Brennan's cheeks were flushed and there was a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, which she wiped away with the back of her hand, swinging her legs under the chair in irritation.

Booth collapsed back onto the couch, stretching his legs out on the table as he held an ice cube to his head with a groan of satisfaction. His partner shot him a disapproving look and he just smiled in reply, "Oh, come on, don't tell me you haven't been thinking about doing this."

Temperance rolled her eyes. "That won't do you any good in the long run. Your body will think you're cold and will try to warm itself up. You'll end up hotter than when you started."

He closed his eyes with a sigh as he moved the ice down his face. "Yeah, but it feels so good..."

Shaking her head, she turned back to the computer. "It won't help. I told you, the thermo-regulatory center in the brain-"

"Yeah, I know, Bones, I heard you the first time," he interrupted, still keeping the ice on his temple. "But you can't seriously tell me you wouldn't like some kind of release right now."

A small smile flitted across her lips. "I'm sure the sense of satisfaction is very appealing," she replied, doing her best to maintain a clinical tone, "But the detrimental effects outway the temporary pleasure."

"Then you haven't been doing it right," Booth said with a cocky grin.

Brennan raised her eyebrows and responded in kind, "Trust me, no matter how good it is, it'll all be over in seconds."

Not about to back down, he answered with a shrug, "Guess I'll just have to keep doing it then." To illustrate his point, he picked up another ice cube and held it to his head with an exaggerated sigh. "Yep, just as good."

"And how do you plan on getting any work done?" she inquired, with her best attempt at a severe tone.

The agent smirked as he turned his head to face her. "There's really nothing for me to do." Seeing her about to object, he sat up, speaking sincerely, "Bones, please, just chill, okay? In every sense of the word. We've been over this note a hundred times, and right now, I'm too hot to think. Let's just cool off for a minute and then I promise we can get back to work."

Temperance remained unconvinced and Booth pulled himself off the couch, walking over to her with the cup of ice. Eyeing it warily, she threatened, "If you even think about pouring that on me..."

He chuckled under his breath and held his hands up innocently. "Wouldn't dream of it. Just relax, Bones."

Picking up a large ice cube, he tried to move behind her, but she spun her chir round to face him, looking at him suspiciously. "You are not touching me with that ice."

"Just try it, okay? I'll stop whenever you want, but please, just give it a go. You'll enjoy it, trust me." He gave her his best puppy-dog look and reluctantly she swivelled her chair back round.

"Alright, but if you-" Her words were cut off by a sharp gasp as Booth held the ice cube to the back of her neck. Before she could get over the shock of the cold, he began to move the ice down her spine, following its trail with his warm hand so as to take away some of the coldness.

Thin trails of water snaked their way down her back, soaking into her top as the ice continued on its course along her shoulder blades, with Booth's hand seconds behind. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, as Booth moved the ice in smooth circles on her back, his hand tracing its sparkling path with almost massaging movements. The combination of the two stimulae caused Temperance to bite back a contented moan, unwilling to show him just what effect his ministrations were having on her.

Smiling slightly at her obvious enjoyment, Booth slowly dragged the freezing ice along her pale and exposed collarbone, causing her to lean back into the chair to allow him better access. Not wishing to move up to her face or down to her chest for fear of accusations of inappropriate behavior, he continued to move the ice back and forth between her shoulders, watching it melt between his numb fingers as he did so.

As the ice-cold water trickled down her chest, Temperance could barely focus on anything except the pure ecstasy of the respite from the heat. One part of her mind nagged at her that this was not the kind of behavior usually associated with partners, but that thought was quickly quashed by the part of her mind that logically pointed out that it was better to have someone else cool you down, so that your body didn't produce any excess heat from unnecessary muscle movement.

Not being told to stop, Booth slid the ice again across her throat and couldn't stop himself from grinning at the tiny moan that escaped her lips. Taking it as a challenge to make her moan again, and louder, he gradually began to move it round the to back of her neck, letting it rest softly on her pulse points as he did so and eliciting a slight tremble from his seated partner.

The intimacy of the moment was suddenly interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, and a old man's voice calling, "Excuse me, Dr Brennan, but we've just got the ventilation fixed."

Both Booth and Brennan jumped at the unexpected sound. Temperance's eyes flew open in shock as she turned to look at the janitor at the door. However, his unannounced arrival had a different effect on Booth, who immediately dropped the ice cube in surprise.

It was the janitor's turn to look startled as Brennan let out an involuntary yelp when the ice landed in her cleavage, before sliding further down to her stomach. Standing up and shaking her top out, she glared at Booth in annoyance as the ice smashed on the floor.

Unsure of what to say in this situation, the janitor completed his message as a question, "It'll be back on in a few minutes?"

Nodding at him through gritted teeth, Brennan managed a tight smile, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "Thank you."

After the old man's hasty departure, she wheeled on Booth angrily. Before she could yell, he backed away, holding his hands up in defense. "Sorry, Bones, it slipped out of my hand."

"Slipped?" she repeatedly threateningly, picking up the cup of ice as she advanced towards him. "Slipped?!"

Booth's eyes widened and he backed off even further, not looking away from the cup."Well, it's not like I was aiming for there... I was surprised, and it fell, and I'm sorry, and I really don't need to have a cup of ice thrown over me," he said quickly, his tone rapidly changing from one of apology to one of self-preservation.

A small smile played on her lips as she backed him into a corner, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You were the one who wanted to cool off..."

Before Booth could point out that an ice bath was not what he had in mind, there was another knock on the door and Brennan reluctantly set down the cup as Angela and Hodgins entered with triumphant grins on their faces.

Finding himself happy to see the squints for possibly the first time in his life, Booth asked with genuine interest, while distancing himself from his ice-wielding partner, "Have you found something?"

Buoyed by the agent's uncharacteristic enthusiasm, Hodgins nodded happily, launching into an explanation, "Looking at the samples of Sagittaria latifolia, combined with the abundant presence of Icta-"

"We know where the killer went fishing," Angela interrupted. Hodgins glowered at her, hands on his hips in annoyance at his thunder being stolen, but the artist just flashed him a cheerful smile. "Don't pout, sweetie."

"Well, where was it?" Brennan prompted, buoyed by the prospect of a lead in the case.

"Little Hunting Creek in Fairfax County, Virginia," Hodgins said quickly, before Angela could cut in again. "It's a popular fishing area around a Potomac tributary."

"That's great," Booth said, pulling his shoes and socks back on in his eagerness to get out of the lab. "Me and Bones'll go check that out right now."

He started to shepherd his partner towards the door, but stopped as Angela just tapped the watch on her wrist pointedly. Glancing down at his own watch, he realised that it was now nearly 7pm, and way past the peak fishing time. "Or we could wait till morning," he finished smoothly, stepping away from Brennan who merely rolled her eyes at him.

"Good plan," Angela said, a smile on her face but a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Draping her arm round Hodgins' shoulders, she added before she left, "See you in the morning."

"Here's hoping it doesn't start with a fresh body," Hodgins called back with a grin as he and Angela made their way out together, leaving Brennan and Booth standing in her office, both sincerely hoping that Hodgins' passing comment would come true.

Posted 03/01/2008 09:21:15 AM
by ToZiKa

Why did this janitor have to come in at this time?
He could have waited another few minutes or so...

I really liked the ice-scenes...
I hope they continue that experience sometime soon.

Posted 03/01/2008 02:07:42 PM
by jerseybones

the heat is on quite literally in bertie's fic and a broken a/c is not the only cause. great job again. need more, tons more.

Posted 03/01/2008 03:13:53 PM
by bertie456

Thanks Toz and jersey! I'll copy the next when I have time tomorrow, but Toz, there will be more ice involved, and jb, there will also be more heat involved. That, and a hot shirtless Booth.

Posted 03/01/2008 05:53:39 PM
by ToZiKa

that's good to hear, bertie!

I like a hot shirtless Booth...I think it's actually my favorite kind of Booth. :cyclops:

Posted 03/01/2008 07:13:31 PM
by jerseybones

bertie i love your direction, right to the gutter but along a well-written path of course. i'd love to praise your writing style more but the visuals and the smut are kinda taking over.

Posted 03/01/2008 11:03:50 PM
by fanofbones

Museum....

Booth was hot and he knew it...
Glad we got that straight....upfront....lol
This is great....and loved the ass line...cute..
And could you bitch-slap Cam for me....ha

fab