She's a Knockout

[whedonist]

Chapter 3 – She’s a Knockout

The heavy Latin hip-hop of Ozomatli sounds through my flat, providing the energy I need to finish off breakfast. I dance around my kitchen and pull pastries from the bag of the bakery down the street. I smirk as I hear the shower shut off and shake my head at how I ended up this morning, again. I took Tempe out to blow off some steam, let her cut lose, ‘cause we all know she doesn’t do it enough on her own. We fell into my apartment only a few hours ago, but damn if I didn’t wake up feeling like a million bucks with her arms and a leg wrapped around me as she snored softly.

I plop the last of the cream cheese and chocolate filled croissants on a plate as my stomach rumbles. Between the late hour and the alcohol, I’m starved. I also need a shower, preferably a long one. The shower’s still secondary to making sure Tempe is taken care of this morning. My hips sway to the rhythm, sipping my coffee and waiting on my guest to come from my bedroom.

A few minutes of me leaning against the kitchen counter and I hear her call out, “Ang?”

“Yeah,” I answer and move towards the sound of her voice.

“Would it be okay if I borrow some clothes?” she asks.

I round the corner to my room and stop cold. Temperance stands there wrapped in a small towel that barely goes to the top of her thighs. Still damp from her shower, her wet hair frames her face and tiny drops of water dangle from the tips. Licking my lips, I watch a singular bead of water as it trails down her neck, to the hollow of her throat, pooling there before spilling over to disappear between the cleft of her breasts.

“Ang?” Tempe questions again, I shake my head, ridding myself of the very inappropriate thoughts.

“If,” I mumble, “sure, take what you want.”

She nods and moves towards my closet, but stops and looks me over. “Ang, everything okay?”

I finally snap out of it and wave a hand at her. “Yeah, sweetie,” I reassure, “Great. I’m gonna go out and finish breakfast.” Offering nothing more, I turn and make a hasty retreat back to the safety of my kitchen. Leaning against the counter, I fold my arms across my chest and try to stop the thoughts from racing.

I mean she’s attractive, yes, I’ve accepted my physical attraction to her before, but…

I’m with Hodgins and its Tempe and I think maybe I’m just losing my mind.

Has to be it. Between Booth’s faked death and Zack’s stupidity, I’m just clinging. It’s why I’ve been sticking so close to Tempe lately. I love Booth and Zack and I’m freaking out. She’s closer to both of them than I am so…

I run a hand roughly through my hair and shake off the anomaly that happened in my bedroom. I can chalk that up to cracked psychological walls and be done with it. Smiling, Temperance joins me a few minutes later, looking no less than beautiful in a pair of my yoga pants and a tank top.

See and there we are again, with the word beautiful. She is. We’ve been through this.

I sigh and grouse my way over to the coffee pot to pour another cup.

“Ang?” Tempe’s voice sounds behind me.

I finish fixing her cup before turning to her, handing it over and answering, “Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?” I look her over; brow furrowed, lips tight, studying me.

The right side of my mouth quirks into a lopsided smirk. For as much as she is clueless to non-verbal communication, her empathy does make up for it on occasion. At least for when it counts.

“I…” I falter, out of all the people I could talk to about wanting to lick the water off of them and have them not freak out; she’d be the one, but…

It’s not the right time; at least that’s what I feel. Instead, I plaster on a smile and say, “Nothing. I’m just thinking that it’s Sunday and with Sunday comes no work. What were you planning on doing the rest of the day?”

I know what she was planning. It’s what she does most Sunday’s. Not this week.

“Well, I have some bodies to identify back at the lab. I was going to do that, maybe call in for some take out.” She sips the coffee I fixed for her. “Then I need to plan my trip.”

“I think you should stay away from the lab.” I walk over to her and rest my hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I can bet the last time you enjoyed some time off was the last time I dragged you out of the lab. How about we do something?”

She looks at me, head half cocked to the side and then I see it, the little half smile that brightens her face more than any other. “I think that you’re right. I could probably do with some quality time spent with my best friend.”

I offer a full grin and say, “We should go to the park or go shopping or something. Do you have anything in particular you want to do?”

She shakes her head.

“Alright, then leave the planning up to me. I’m going to go hop in the shower and be right back.” I grab my cup and set it in the sink. “Eat some breakfast and we’ll swing by your place if you want so you can pick up your own clothes.”

She looks down at her outfit and looks up at me, blinking. “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?” she asks this with one part offense and one part hurt.

“No, no,” I rush to reassure her. “You look beautiful, I just...” I stop as her mouth quirks again at my distress. My eyes narrow as her mouth splits into a wide grin.

We really need to teach her how to joke better. Instead of calling her on it, I try for something a little different. “The outfit’s hideous. You’d look better naked.”

I smile a sweet smile at her as her mouth drops a little in surprise. I offer a small pat on the shoulder, not waiting for her to catch up on the joke. She’ll figure it out eventually. Instead, I saunter off and get ready for the day, trying to figure out exactly what we’re going to do or more importantly what I’m going to do.

---

Sitting on the park bench, the late afternoon sun provides the little bit of extra warmth needed to be comfortable. The rest of the heat is given to me by Temperance pressing against my side as we people watch and sip our drinks. It’s not cold, but the wind makes it a tad chilly. The late spring weather in D.C.’s great, but it’s also later in the day.

I do love spring, everything is green and crisp. All knew and refreshed. There’s that whole rebirth – nature thing that just makes the winter so worth it.

I snuggle in a bit more as the wind picks up and my foot hits one of the shopping bags from earlier today. We ended up doing a little window-shopping, then actual shopping at a few boutiques around Dupont Circle and ended up at the park after a light lunch.

Not even a remotely horrible way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Being out with Tempe today was nice. Despite my libido and lingering glances, I’ve been able to keep myself in check. I just don’t understand it.

I need to keep Tempe in the ‘friend’s only’ column of my life. She’s my best friend and I don’t want anything screwing that up. And I recognize that the attraction was always there, but something, and I can guess what the something’s are, Booth and Zack, I just think she needs taking care of more than anyone realizes.

Maybe it’s me, as Sweets would probably point out, projecting.
Now that’s not a bad idea, talk to Sweets. I’ll call him tomorrow and see if we can meet up for lunch.

“Hey, Ang,” Temperance’s voice brings me out of my own thoughts and I look over at her, smiling. “Do you think Zack would have done what he did if he had more attachments?”

I cock my head to the side, trying to figure out what exactly she’s asking.

She must see my confusion as she clarifies, “I mean take Booth for instance. We all know that he wouldn’t do anything like that, but we know he’s taken a life. With him there’s this clear distinction of why he would, but he wouldn’t do what Zack did because that would take him away from Parker. Do you think if Zack had something like that,” she pauses, forming the rest of her thought, before quietly finishing, “like someone he loved?”

Reaching for her hand, I offer a soft smile. I don’t want to get into what I’ve been running through my own mind, but I want to offer her something. “I think that Zack was duped. I also know that he does have someone he loves like that.”

Her questioning look causes me to squeeze her hand. “You, Tempe. He loves you. Not like ‘in love’ with you, but I know there’s very little that he wouldn’t do for you.”

“But does love like that exist?” Her mouth pinches and she asks, “Have you ever loved like that?”

I shrug. “Love’s subjective. I know who I love and I know why I love them. But like everything the type of love we feel, to me at least, changes.”

“So then love’s fluid.” Her brow furrows at the thought or thoughts.

Biting my lower lip, I try to figure out how to answer the questions that she’s asked and not asked.

“See, I’ve been thinking,” she says before I have a chance to answer her questions, “What determines love? Biologically, I know it’s a chemical reaction to an individual’s pheromones in response to someone they find appealing. But between you, Booth and everyone, it seems that it’s more than that.” She shakes her head and laughs a short self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t think I’m capable of that. Just like Zack. I don’t think he is either.”

My eyebrow rises at her statement. I shake my head and say, “Temperance, you’re full of it.”

Her head rears back and she purses her lips at me. Unthinking, I reach out and smooth away the furrow that creases her brow. “You are more capable and do it better than most. You just do it a little differently than conventional methods deem acceptable.”

I smile at her again, trying to take the sting from my words. Small warning bells sound in my head at the idea of asking the question on the tip of my tongue, but I ignore them and do it anyhow. “Do you love me?”

She huffs and pulls away from me, folding her arms across her chest. I’m not sure if she’s upset or thinking about how to respond to the question. As I open my mouth to speak, she says, “You’re kind, talented, smart, not as smart as me, but you have a higher than average intelligence, you make me laugh, much to my annoyance you also seem to know the right thing to say when I’m feeling bad.” Her arms relax and fall to her lap. “You’re also beautiful and I find that if I remove the way I’ve defined my sexual identity, that I can be sexually attracted to you.”

Uh…

My mouth drops open a little at her candor. Why I’m shocked that she’s as unflinching honest in her answer as she is, I file away to question later.

I close my mouth, she smiles at me, a small half smile that quirks the side of her mouth. “So I guess that if we were to use conventional definition, then yes, I can say that I love you.” Her eyes drop to her lap and she says a little quieter, “I just can’t seem to understand why that should mean anything.”

I’m about to respond when my pocket vibrates and starts to ring. Privately thankful for the interruption, I fish the phone from out of my jeans pocket and answer, “Hello?”

“Hey, Ang,” Jack’s voice comes through, “Are we still on for tonight?”

“Oh, uh…” I look at Tempe out of the corner of my eye. I completely forgot that I had a date with Hodgins tonight.

Crap.

“Yeah, I’m with Tempe at Dupont Circle. I can be at your place within the hour. Is that okay?” I ask and bite my lower lip. I don’t really want to leave the conversation like this, but I promised Jack I’d come over tonight.

“Yeah, sure,” he falters a bit and then asks, “Do you think Doctor Brennan would want to come over for dinner?”

I shake my head and answer, “No, I’ll see you in a bit though, ‘kay?”

“Alright. Love you, baby,” he says before disconnecting.

I lock the keypad and shove the phone back in my pocket. Temperance is already standing and gathering her purchases from this afternoon. I stand myself and stop her from loading her arms down. “Tempe…”

“You have plans,” she states matter of factly.

I look away torn. “Yeah, but…”

“Go, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” She smiles at me and it causes me to feel like a heel.

“Fine. Just don’t think we’re done with this conversation.” I give her a stern look and she finally relents, nodding her head. I lean in while grabbing my one bag from the park bench and kiss her cheek. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

With that I head off and flag down a cab to head over to Jack’s; still reeling from my friend’s words.

---

Pinching more of the pad-tai noodles between the chopsticks Jack’s brandishing, he cups some of the dangling ones with his palm and offers them to me. I lean in and wrap my lips around the offering. We’re sitting in front of his living room fireplace eating dinner. The talk tonight has been light and for that I’m grateful.

I moan as the flavors burst on my tongue and he grins. “So,” he drawls, smirking at me, “How was Doctor Brennan?”

I swallow before answering with a smile, “She was good.” I’m not sure what else to say or more over what can I say. On the drive over, my thoughts drifted back to Zack and the little bit of digging I was able to do on Saturday. I’ve come up with this crazy theory, but…

I guess if there’s anyone that I know and trust to talk to about crazy theories, it’s the man I’m with.

“But…?” he pushes.

I sigh and lean back on my arms. “It’s just…I think with everything, it’s worn her down a little.”

He nods and puts the chopsticks down. I reach out and run a hand over his stubbled cheek. “If I were to propose a theory to you,” I start out softly, “Would reserve judgment until after I’m finished?”

He smirks and leans into my touch. “Depends. What kind of theory?”

Giving in to his playful side, I purr, “A crazy, conspiracy type of theory.”

Moaning in approval as my hands run through his hair, he says, “Sure.”

Alright. Here it goes.

My hand drops to my side and I sit up and fold my legs underneath me. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Zack and everything. The other day I was down in the vault and there’re these things from the deposit boxes that had all of these numbers on them.” I run a hand through my hair and try to put a voice to my ideas. “Then, I found this piece of paper Zack had written up. It matched some of the numbers on the things in the vault.”

My mouth pinches and I lean forward, picking at the carpet at my feet. “And see, I tried to ask him about it and he got all defense.”

“Very un-Zack like,” Jack voices my thought on the matter exactly.

I nod and continue, “So I was thinking that he gave this bogus reason or whatever on helping out Gormogon, but what if that’s not it. What if it’s something else and he’s scared.” I look up at Jack and qualify, “When I called him on it, Jack, he was scared. Like really scared.”

His lips pinch as he reaches for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Why else would he?”

I shake my head unable to answer. “I don’t know. I just…I know it’s not what he said to us. He’s lying for some reason.”

He grins at me and his bright blue eyes twinkle in the fire light. Standing, he looks down at me and offers me a hand up. I accept and he pulls me to my feet.

“Well, Detective Montenegro,” he smirks at me and I stick my tongue out at him. “Let’s investigate, shall we.”

Without question, I follow him back to the kitchen as he grabs a set of keys off the peg board by the backdoor and heads outside. We go up the side steps of Jack’s garage to Zack’s apartment.

Well, this is interesting…

“I would normally feel bad about this,” he says opening the front door. Reaching inside he flips on the lights to the living room and ushers me inside. He stops me as we get to the center of Zack’s apartment. Reaching for my hands he holds them and says, “But if you think we can help Zack, I’ll help you look.”

“And this isn’t because I’m incredibly sexy?” I joke.

“Well, that helps,” he says wiggling his eyebrows at me. “But,” he exclaims holding his index finger in the air as he makes his point, “We both love Zack and I trust you. If you think something’s up, then we should see if something really is.”

I lean in, unable to resist kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you, “I whisper in his ear.

I pull back to see a full, bright smile gracing his features.

“Where should we start?” he asks, looking around a little unsure of himself.

“I don’t know,” I answer, moving around Zack’s inner sanctum. The place is so him. Everything in a place, where everything has its place. The sign of a neat and ordered mind. Looking around at the few things he has out, I’m further convinced that his story is bullshit.

A set of photographs catches my eye. They rest on the mantle above the fireplace. It's a set of three, one of his family at home sits center. The other two are of us. There’s a group shot of all of us at the Jeffersonian, in our smocks posing for a picture that Zack had a lab tech take. He said it was for his family back home. In it we’re all smiling; it was right after his return from Iraq. I don’t think I’ve ever seen everyone that happy all together after that. The other photo is of him and Tempe together. It’s one of the photos that I took while they were working, both are standing over a set of remains, smiles grace both of their faces and you know they are both doing what they love.

I smile and trace a finger down the glass of the photo frame. I look up and notice hanging above the mantle the picture I made him for Christmas the year we all were quarantined. He had it matted and framed.

I spin from the fire place and swipe at the tear that escaped.

“Hey, Ang,” Jack’s voice saves me from breaking down into tears, “Come here, I think I found something.”

I rush towards the back part of the apartment, following my lover’s voice. I find him in the spare bedroom, Zack’s office. Bookshelves line the place and the furniture is grossly mismatched, but it feels so much like the man I’ve come to view as a little brother, that the tears want to start up again.

I push them down and he’s sitting in one of the two office chairs with a file of letters and what look like eight-by-ten high quality glossies. Jack hands me a letter and I read it over, my mouth dropping open a little bit.

I set the letter down and shuffle through the stack that he found. The photos that are there have shots of us. There’s one of Tempe, me and Booth walking to the diner. Another of Cam, Jack and Booth coming out of the Jeffersonian. Various shots over time. I notice that the dating on the photos span nearly a year and half. The last photo on the bottom of the stack is a picture of Zack’s mom and dad.

There’s this war raging inside, part of me sick at the thought of the implications over what we just found. The other part of me feels validated, happy that I have some tangible proof I wasn’t chasing windmills and trying to rationalize the situation.

I look at Jack and offer a grim tight lipped smile. We take the stack, the folder all of this came out of and make our way out of the apartment. “Where did you find this?” I ask finally.

Locking up, Jack looks down at me from the top of the steps and smiles, “Behind his comic book collection.”

I laugh, only semi-bitterly and say, “Figures.”

Chapter 4 - Lost Child