The High Road is Hard to Find

Remember we used to dance
and everyone wanted to be
you and me?
I want to be too.

Stay or Leave, Dave Matthews Band

The night of Angela's housewarming party, Brennan was the first to arrive. She showed up an hour early with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bottle of sparkling cider in the other, because best friend code dictated such things and Angela had taught her well.

For a while she enjoyed the company of her closest friend. But then groups of people she didn't know – despite Angela's insistence to the contrary – began arriving in waves and she quickly lost the will and energy for polite mingling. When the rest of the team arrived within twenty minutes of one another – Booth included – she had been more relieved than she would have liked to admit… until now. As she watched the party unfolding from her advantageous corner and tried – futilely – to block out Daisy's chatter, she almost wished she could turn time back an hour. At least then she had been able to move about the apartment freely without Daisy constantly two steps behind her. The intern had managed to step on her heel four times within the last fifteen minutes.

Booth had once told her that a conversation with Daisy was a worse 'Hell on Earth' than grocery shopping on a Saturday. Despite his serious face she had taken the statement as a joke, but she knew better now. It was simple enough to direct Daisy elsewhere when they were at the lab, but in a social setting she wasn't sure she was entitled to order her around in the same way.

"Dr. Hodgins did an amazing job renovating the bathroom, don't you think, Dr. Brennan? You totally can't tell that someone was murdered in there. Well, given your superior intelligence you could still find evidence if you wanted to, of course, but I mean an average person like-

"Daisy," Angela sidled up to them and gave the younger woman a smooth smile that only she and Brennan wouldn't recognize as condescending, "Sweets is trying to set up the karaoke machine and there are literally sparks flying everywhere. Do you think you could maybe give him a hand?"

Daisy became immediately serious at the thought of this task she already possessively saw as hers. "Of course. I will not let you down. I used to do karaoke all the time when I was in high school. I totally have this under control."

She power-walked off to find Sweets, and Angela watched Brennan take a large swallow of her wine.

"You okay sweetie?"

Angela's voice was sympathetic, but Brennan's dazed expression made it difficult to keep a straight face. Cam had actually been the first to notice the anthropologist's obvious misery, but she had been decidedly unwilling to risk getting sucked into the never ending conversation herself by attempting a rescue. A quick round of Rock, Paper, Scissors had guaranteed Cam's safety and sent Angela into the lion's den.

"That was not at all pleasant."

"The night is young; maybe she'll get really drunk and surprise us all by being quiet," Angela laughed. "Speaking of; it is super weird being a part of the sober crowd. I mean, check out Erin over there; she's half a slippery dick away from mounting Ryan. I used to be that girl."

"That man has half a penis?" Brennan asked confusedly.

"It's a drink, Bren. I'll make you one if you want."

Angela's eyes glinted with mischief and Brennan glared suspiciously. "I am not letting you get me anywhere near as drunk as your friend."

"Can't blame me for trying."

A particularly raucous bout of laughter erupted from across the room, and the girls' eyes were drawn to the circle of men that included Booth and Hodgins. Hodgins' hands waved animatedly as he began a new story, and Booth took a casual pull of his beer before meeting Brennan's eye. He gave a small smile while raising his bottle toward her, and Brennan flushed lightly at the acknowledgement. Thank God he was too far away to see it. She waved back and continued to watch him long after he returned his attention to the latest display of alpha-male posturing.

"You're doing it again, you know," Angela said matter-of-factly.

"Doing what?" Brennan snapped.

She couldn't quite figure out if she was more annoyed that Angela had caught her staring, or that Angela had felt the need to interrupt with commentary.

"The goofy lopsided grin you do when our G-man charm smiles you."

"I'm fairly certain the term 'charm smile' cannot be used as a verb."

"Trust me sweetie; it definitely can."

Brennan knew that the last thing Angela needed when she got into these moods was encouragement, so she pointedly ignored the comment and changed the subject to something she deemed safe.

"It seems your prediction regarding Erin was correct." She casually pointed to the woman in question who was currently making a spectacle of herself.

Angela changed the subject back without missing a beat.

"Hannah's off on assignment you know." Brennan shot her a look of stark disapproval and she raised both hands in defense. "I'm not saying you should seduce him or anything – even though that would be so hot, but whatever – I just mean… when the cat's away, the mice will play, right? Go play. Have fun. Remind each other why you like each other and get rid of all this awkwardness."

"We aren't awkward." Brennan immediately defended.

It would have been one thing for her to say it or for Booth to say it, but even now, no one else got to criticize their relationship. To attack a part of them was to attack all of them, and she wouldn't have it.

Angela was unfazed. "Yeah? Well prove it to me."

He hadn't wanted to come tonight; to be quite honest, any party thrown by Angela made him nervous. But Angela was pretty good at getting what she wanted and she had milked the pregnancy card for all it was worth in order to get him to promise to show up. Also, she hadn't hesitated to mention his noticeable absence from the last party she had organized.

Game, set, match.

But not long after he arrived, Booth had begun to enjoy himself. He had begun to feel like himself. And the past few months had been such a roller coaster, he was happy to ride this high out while it lasted.

Hodgins made an obscene joke that Booth was pretty sure he wouldn't have dared to do had his wife been within hearing distance, but whatever. He'd give the bug man credit; it had been pretty damn clever. And then his eyes scanned the room and connected with his partner and Angela in the far corner. Bones had that thinking face of hers on; it was a pretty solid indication that she had either just observed some social practice she didn't understand, or she had recently had one explained to her by Angela and was still processing the elucidation. He gave them a half wave and then he quickly turned his attention back to Hodgins' new story, because for a while he had managed to ignore the little things about his partner that had always made him smile, but lately he was finding he kept falling back into that old pattern of watching her and analysing her behaviour. And tonight was going far too well for him to ruin it by forgetting that there was a really good reason why he didn't, couldn't do that anymore.

The night progressed and he drifted around the room; he talked to Cam and Wendell and Bones and even Daisy – briefly – as well as friends of Hodgins and Angela that he had never met before. He socialized. There had been a time not so long ago he had been pretty good at it, and he remembered that he liked talking to people. Most of the time. As long as they didn't suck. And then before he really knew what was happening, Angela began wrangling players for a drinking relay that involved shotgunning beer. When she couldn't even drink. What an instigator.

"We're a long way from college, Ange," Booth laughed. "No way."

"I'm in," Hodgins grinned.

"Why not?" Wendell shrugged gamely.

"Yay!" Angela cheered. "Oh come on Booth, don't try and tell me you think you're above this."

Booth shot Cam his most venturous smile. "What do you think? A round for old times' sake?"

"Oh no," Cam gave a definitive shake of her head. "You can represent the old crew all on your own, Seeley. I'm going to sit back here and watch the fireworks."

Somehow, when the two teams of five settled into position across from one another, Booth found himself in the anchor spot at the end of the table facing his partner. His partner, who was clenching her beer can readily in her hand with her eyes alight.

"I woulda never thought you even knew how to shotgun a beer, Bones," he winked. "You've been holding out on me."

"Angela tells me I'm very talented at this."

"You're going down, partner."

Her eyes danced, and later when he was alone he would think about how long it had been since he had made her smile that smile, but for right now, his eyes were dancing too and he was enjoying this rare sense of normalcy far too much to do anything but blindly accept it.

Following an appropriate amount of trash talk, Angela procured an assortment of keys and bottle openers to puncture the aluminum cans. She laid them out in the middle of the table and raised her flute.

"To friends, happiness, and no more icky dead bodies in this house."

Hodgins and Wendell clinked their cans together and then quickly set about completing the time honoured tradition of piercing the flimsy metal and popping the tops. It was immediately clear that Wendell, still relatively immersed in a student culture, had more regular practice on his side than Hodgins, but as the race progressed, neither team managed to stay ahead for very long. In the end, it came down to Booth and Brennan. As it so often did.

Booth was just shy of finished when he glanced at Brennan and took in the competitive concentration on her face. And when the impulse to mess with her struck him – in a way it hadn't for a very long time – he acted on it without thinking. He reached across the table and poked her stomach, and she immediately choked in shock. As she coughed, the remainder of her beer leaked onto the floor and Booth cockily crushed his empty can.

"That's a wrap, Bones."

The room erupted into a cacophony of cheers and protests and laughter, and Brennan's face contorted in moral indignation. "That's not fair!"

"That was low, Booth." Wendell agreed.

"Oh come on, I was already winning, Bones. Don't be such a sore loser."

"But you cheated!"

"Show me in the rulebook where it says I can't poke you," Booth goaded.

"But- you can't- it's not…" She spluttered helplessly and then whipped her head around to face Angela. "Is there really a rulebook?"

Angela took pity on her. "No, sweetie. There's no rulebook."

"Booth!"

"It's not my fault you weren't creative enough to think of it first, Bones. I guess I'm just smarter than you."

"You are not!"

At twenty past two in the morning Brennan and Booth were the last to leave; Booth, because he felt he owed it to the happy couple to help clean up a bit, and Brennan because she took her role as best friend very seriously.

Neither partner was prepared for the change that came when Angela closed the front door behind them. It was as sudden as flipping a light switch.

How was it possible to go from feeling so good, so right, to feeling the weight of every awkward moment between them since their return? Even Booth didn't have an answer. They floundered as they left the building, each struggling to recapture that ease that had floated away without warning, and they settled into silence as they stepped out onto the sidewalk and accepted that it had slipped beyond their reach.

Two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year. Running over the same old ground…

The thought hit Booth suddenly and he laughed bitterly to himself, drawing a confused furrow of Brennan's brow.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing," he shook his head. "Pink Floyd."

"Wish You Were Here?" she enquired with a dry smile.

He couldn't hide his surprise. "You know Pink Floyd, but you don't know Led Zeppelin?"

"Everyone knows Pink Floyd," she protested defensively. "And I know Led Zeppelin now."

"How'd you know that's what I was thinking?"

She shrugged. "I was thinking about it too, coincidentally. It accurately depicts our situation; the same old ground, the same old fears… neither of us are really here, are we, Booth? Metaphorically speaking, I mean. We're very far away from each other."

The depth of her analysis stunned him and he was again faced with how much she'd changed. It was another one of those things about her he had been trying very hard not to think about, but she was acknowledging her emotions in a way she certainly hadn't been able to do this time a year and a half ago.

"I told her," he admitted after a beat.

Brennan made no attempt to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about.

"I know," she said softly. "But Angela reassures me that you couldn't have told her everything, because she's still willing to be my friend. Angela seems to think that if you had been entirely truthful, Hannah would have kicked my ass. Although I do find that particular conclusion of hers to be ridiculous, because I highly doubt Hannah would be capable of kicking my ass before I kicked hers."

Booth gave a rueful laugh and shook his head, but he refrained from comment.

The silence between them was amicable for a moment, and it was so reminiscent of what they used to have that she loathed having to break it. But she needed to say it; for some reason it was very important to her that he know she wasn't regressing. It was very important to her he know that regardless of what they were now, once upon a time he had changed her and she knew that letting him in had been worth it.

"I'm not sorry I told you. Even though at the time, I think it would have been less painful if you had just punched me."

Booth winced. "I know the feeling."

It saddened Brennan that they could only grasp vestiges of their former selves when they were around other people. He could touch her in a room full of friends and strangers, but they couldn't really even talk anymore. Not the way they used to.

"Is it as hard for you right now as it is for me?"

"Yeah, Bones. I'd say it's probably pretty damn close between the two of us."

"Somehow, I find that comforting."

"Misery loves company, Bones; it's the way of the world."

"I'm not happy to see you unhappy, I'm just-… it's reassuring to know that you don't have all the answers. Whether it's irrational or not, it makes me feel less alone."

The new quiet that then descended could have been comfortable or not; for once they didn't know. They were each too lost in their own thoughts to maintain more than a vague sense of the other's continued presence. When the first cab pulled up to the corner, it startled both of them.

"Go ahead, Booth. I'm sure the next one will be by shortly."

Booth shook his head. "If you think I'm leaving you out here by yourself, you're crazy. Take it."

"Booth-

"Just get in, Bones," he laughed lightly. Neither of them commented on how far short it fell from the unchecked, boisterous laughter that had echoed between them just a few short hours ago.

"If you're sure…"

"Yeah," he waved her off, "go on."

She started to get in the cab and then she closed the door suddenly and turned toward him once more.

"You still like me."

"What? Of course I like you, Bones."

"I wasn't sure before; I couldn't tell. But at the party, you were having fun. With me. You still want to be my friend."

It broke his heart a little to realize things had got so bad between them that she had reached a point where she hadn't known that, but he pushed it way deep – the way he had to push almost everything involving her so that he could function – and he answered her casually.

"Yeah, we had fun. We've always known how to have fun together, Bones, we just forget sometimes is all."

"I figured something out, Booth."

Her voice was soft but full of confidence. Maybe a hint of determination. He wasn't entirely sure. He was never entirely sure when it came to her anymore.

"What's that, Bones?"

"I figured out what helped us complement each other so well. I figured out why we were always so good together."

And there she went; surprising him again. Had she really changed that much as of late, or had he just forgotten what it was like to have her unpredictably expel epiphanies that sent his head spinning?

"Why?" he asked in an equally soft tone of voice.

"In the past, whenever I became afraid, you were always the one to reassure me. And when you were upset, I became fairly adept at making you feel better in turn."

He nodded. "I'm with you so far."

"We came back to D.C. and initially we seemed fine. I thought that I was finished being scared, but then we were different, and it confused me, and it made me uneasy, and before our second case was even over, we were both afraid again. And that's when things fell apart, Booth."

Her eyes were sparkling from a revelation he still didn't quite understand, and he waited quietly for her to continue.

"We can't both be scared. One of us has to stop being afraid. And, I wanted to tell you, Booth, I'm not afraid anymore." She gave him a slow, hesitant smile, but it was genuine and it gave her that familiar glow that used to dazzle him. "I'm going to fix us this time. It's my turn."

He sighed, "Bones-

"I was afraid of getting hurt, and I was afraid of hurting you, but, both of those things happened, and I'm still standing. I'm still standing. It's my turn, Booth. We're going to rebuild the centre."

She had the peaceful look to her face that he recognized from when she used to give him exhausted smiles after finally, finally solving a puzzle that had been besting her for far too long, and he knew she believed her words. To her, it wasn't a prediction; it was an inevitability.

"I'm not confused anymore. And you still are, but that's okay. I'm going to help you like you always helped me, and your world's going to turn right side up again. I remember who you are, Booth. And having one person remember is enough." For the first time she hesitated uncertainly. "At least, it always has been for me. You showed me that."

She climbed into the cab, and he could taste change in the air the way he always did when she started getting in cabs and leaving him behind. He wanted to believe the way she apparently did; he wanted that sense of peace. For the first time, Booth found himself envious of Brennan's faith. It went beyond surreal, but, he could take a page from her book if she was taking a page from his; he could have faith in her faith. Because anything Brennan was willing to blindly believe in had to be worth it.

She turned in her seat to give him a small smile and a wave through the rear window as the vehicle pulled away from the curb, and as the cab became a dot in the distance, Seeley Booth prayed for the day when watching Temperance Brennan drive off in a cab wouldn't send his heart leaping into his throat. He was beginning to feel like one of Pavlov's dogs.