Topic: Bones Role Play--let the fun begin!

Booth watched her walk away and shook his head. What was up with her? he wondered. For a moment he considered following her and asking, but decided it might not be prudent. Maybe if he let her cool off a bit she'd tell him later. Turning on his heel, he started for the doors. "C'mon, Hodgins! Let's get this show on the road!" he called.

"Coming, coming!" Hodgins called, skidding to a halt. He was dressed head to toe in a geeky blue jumpsuit. "Okay, all set."

Booth looked him up and down, eyebrows raised, but chose not to comment. He turned and led the way to the parking garage, resigned to spending his day carting this squint around. Good thing he had his gun.

Smiling, Hodgins decided to attempt to make some friendly conversation. His previous encounters with the agent had been awkward at best, and this was the perfect opportunity to mend bridges.

"So," he began nervously, tugging on the handle of the black SUV, "how are things? With, um . . . Parker and all?"

Booth got in and started up the car. "He's fine." Backing out of the parking spot, he glanced over at Hodgins. He realized the squint was trying to make conversation, so he decided he probably ought to help him out a bit. "How is the search for Angela's husband going?"

"Oh, well, good, I suppose--he's still stubborn and delusional and stranded on some godforsaken island in Fiji, but we're making progress. He's definitely a wack job. We're dealing with it the best we can," he responded, proud of his success in making pleasant conversation. "Are things, um, okay with you and the good doctor?"

Booth looked surprised. "Yeah, why? Did she say something?"

*Whoops,* Hodgins thought. *Maybe you shouldn't have gone there, you idiot.*

"No, nothing at all. Things just seemed tense between you two before we left, is all," he said.

Booth frowned and turned his attention to the road. "Yeah, well, she seemed a bit irritated with me for asking why I needed to come along on this little field trip. I mean, sheesh, I got better things to do with my time than cart a squint around taking samples of water...no offense," he muttered.

Hodgins thought it best not to anger Booth (he was, after all, in possession of a gun) and decided against protesting to the derogatory comment.

"None taken," he said. "Sometimes I worry about her, I guess. Angela says I'm overprotective."

A smile kicked up a corner of Booth's mouth. "If I had a nickel for every time Bones told me that...but hey, aren't we supposed to be protective of those we care about? I mean, aren't guys kinda hard-wired for that?" he asked.

"Yeah," Hodgins agreed, "but try telling them that. Those two are as stubborn as mules. We only want what's best for them. I'll never understand what goes on in the mind of a woman. What we see as protection, they see as compromising their idependence."

Booth chuckled. "You know, I think they secretly enjoy our protectiveness. In fact, I think they would be disappointed if we didn't get all 'alpha male' when they blunder along with little regard for their own well-being."

Hodgins considered this, a ghost of smile curling the corners of his lips. "A female attempting to disguise her love for a male's protective instincts--that, my man, is one the best conspiracy theories I've ever heard."

((Guys, that was great!! I love Booth and Hodgins interacting; and them going on about women and how they think - hilarious!!))

After closing her office door, Brennan walked to the couch and sat down with a weary sigh. She took a sip of her hot tea and swallowed the two pills she'd gotten from Angela before resting her head on the back of the couch. She supposed she'd been a little curt with Booth but really why was he going on and on about going along with Hodgins? He always went along whenever a crime scene was processed; he insisted on it, in fact. It was just like him to . . . 'Deep breaths, Temperance, deep breaths,' she reminded herself as she started to get all worked up again. It really wasn't his fault that her hormones were all out of wack or that for some reason anything he said got on her nerves. Hopefully, the pills would help calm her down and in the meantime, it might be best for all concern if she just stayed in her office and avoided any contact. With a yawn, she finished her tea and curled up on the couch. All of a sudden, she was so tired . . .

Booth rolled his eyes. Okay, then, time to change the subject. "So, where is the first body of water we need to visit?"

Noting Booth's sudden change in demeanor, Hodgins realized he had gone too far. So much for a mutual male camaraderie, he thought. Won't Angela be disappointed . . .

"Shouldn't be long now--just a few more miles on the next road over. Higby Hill, I think it's called. There's a secluded lake hidden in the trees. It's a perfect place for a murderous sociopath to stake his claim."

Booth parked as close to the trees as he could get. "Well, let's go get this over with," he told Hodgins, then got out and started for the trees.

"Alrighty, then," Hodgins agreed, flinging the door open and jogging to catch up with Booth.

He grabbed his bulky diving equipment from the trunk. Parting the thick masses of green branches, he took careful steps toward the boundaries of the lake. Balancing a bag in one hand without tripping was no easy feat.

"Okay, then," Hodgins said, plopping the bag at his feet and rubbing his hands together. He was clearly enthused by the prospect of jumping into a lake cluttered with bugs and bacteria. "Let me just get suited up here, and I'll be set."

((I'll do some research later and update once I know what I'm talkin' about! I'd do it now, but I'm a little tight for time . . . sorry!!! ))

((Okay . . . for the time being, studying for midterms is no longer my highest priority . . . woot, woot! Sorry for the longish delay.))

Hodgins crouched to his knees and unzipped his duffel bag. Quickly and efficiently, he separated the heavy suiting and tanks and such, organizing the pieces on the patches of withering grass and soil. Once satisfied, he slipped on his wetsuit and turned to Booth.

*Commence embarrassment,* he thought bitterly.

He could only imagine how ridiculous he seemed--it would be a tad difficult to take anyone dressed like him seriously.

"Well . . . may I?" he asked, itching to leap into the water.

Booth shrugged. "Whenever you're ready. The sooner you get to it, the sooner we can get done."

Happy that Booth refrained from commenting on his peculiar attire, Hodgins struggled to ease himself into the water. The equipment, he decided, must've weighed more than himself.

Swimming in the murky lake, he filled several tiny test tubes and secured them safely in a waterproof case.

*What fun!* he mentally exclaimed, certain that if he uttered his thought aloud, Booth would be even more disturbed by his geekiness.

Giving the area one last onceover, Hodgins noticed a scrap of navy fabric wedged between two rocks anchored at the bottom of the lake. He lowered himself to further examine his find. Gently, he tugged at the piece, releasing it from its makeshift prison. It was a New York Yankees baseball cap, sized for an adult.

Hodgins peeked his head above the water. "Hey, Booth? I think I've got something." He waved the cap in his hand as proof. "It's adult size, so it's probably not our victim's. Maybe some vistor tossed it into the lake. It could even belong to the murderer."

Booth frowned. "That's a bit of a leap, don't you think? I'm sure a lot of people come here. It could have been left by someone else. Is there any way to tell approximately how long it's been in the water?"

"I know that," said Hodgins, taking on a defensive tone. He didn't want to sound stupid. "I'm making an intuitive leap . . . isn't it you who's always advising us squints to make guesses, take chances? Like I said, it could belong to some visitor. It's just a hunch." Pausing, Hodgins further examined the hat in his hand. "I can probably make a rough estimate. There's no way to be exact, but I'll be able to determine whether or not it was tossed yesterday, or say, a month ago."

"Okay then, so whaddya say you bag it, tag it and get on with it. We still have, what, 29 more bodies of water?" Booth asked, trying to move things along. At this rate they'd be at this come Christmas.