Because no author can possibly resist the pull of an undercover story.

I was totally at it's mercy. Another multi-chapter, though probably not as long as Unintended (which I haven't forgotten, I promise!)

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Deep Cover – by GoldenNinde

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CHAPTER 1: Of dreams and waking up

"Bones…" his voice was rich and husky, a low, low growl. They were surrounded and in a crowded place. People on the bar counter, on the dance floor, couples walking by, sitting at tables… but it felt like they were alone. Hidden from prying eyes in their own, private, naughty little bubble where they weren't who they said they were, and only they knew who they'd once been.

Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan, FBI Special Agent and Forensic Anthropologist.

No longer.

She was wearing a black, low-cut dress with a short, swishing skirt that shimmered in the disco lights. There was danger around, but she didn't care. She clung to him, closer than Brennan would ever have dared.

He was in jeans and a dark blue shirt, open in a V. His arm slung possessively around her, the way he always wanted to but never did.

"Look at me, honey." She turned her head and the elegantly styled locks framed her face, expression of guilty beauty.

Booth would never have spoken to Brennan like that, either.

They both stood leaning against the wall, illuminated in alternating sharp bursts of light: yellow, green, pink, red, and blinding white. The club was alive with activity, sex, money, laughter, music, drinks…

"Bones, we have to catch the killer."

That was what he said, but it sounded like. "I want to have sex with you right here, right now."

"Yes."

But in this universe catching the killer wasn't an immediate priority. His hand on her thigh, now that was important. The way the roughness felt against the satin skin was causing her to breathe heavily and him to crave more. Always more.

She whispered in his ear: "Look around, maybe we see him." Accidentally licked his earlobe, and that made him go all stiff and his pupils to dilate the size of dinner plates. She liked that, and giggled.

"Want me to do that again?" it wasn't Brennan speaking, of course, it was her voice but another person. He shivered.

"If you don't, I'll make you."

She licked and then bit softly, until he sagged against the wall in an effort to hold himself up. This, to the woman who wasn't Brennan, was just sinfully delightful. She turned, keeping his arm around her shoulders, until she was facing him. They were locked in a very close embrace, bodies aligned, like lovers.

Which they were, in this world.

"Want me to do that again?" Brennan said. But not really Temperance Brennan. Someone else.

"Hell yeah."

She kissed him, pressing her body against his in a sinuous move, like an S, first hips then waist then breasts, then leaning away.

"Come get me."

She whispered with a final flick of her tongue. And walked away into the dance flood, knowing it would take him a few seconds to be able to walk. Knowing she was walking into danger and that, without his protective strength, she was vulnerable.

But she didn't feel vulnerable, she felt powerful, and confident in her high heels, and surrounded in a cloud of heat that smelled of Booth.

Not-Brennan laughed, feeling the thrill of knowing, with absolute certainty, that he was hers, and that she belonged to him too, and that the fire burning in her depths would blaze to starlight soon enough.

That was when the killer found her, and she felt the knife against her throat.

*

With a start, Dr Temperance Brennan woke in her office couch, covered in various sheets of paper. Some were from her latest novel, others from news articles and internet research.

The common word in all of those was 'undercover'.

She was a thorough researcher, and that was what she'd been doing when she fell asleep. A good, solid scientist who liked to base her reasoning on facts, but facts became ephemeral whenever Booth was involved. She began the day feeling certain of something and within minutes of being with him, that fact could disappear into oblivion.

Like 'going undercover'. That wasn't a fact, it was… an empty concept, it was something you did which put your life in danger, but you did it by lying and cheating and acting, and it was noble and brave and you caught evil. How could your life depended on your ability to be someone else?

They'd done it before, twice, but that didn't mean she knew how. And the first time had been for a day, in Vegas, surrounded by security. The second hadn't even been a risk, it had been to gain information from the circus performers.

This was a very different kind of job, she knew. This was for two weeks, minimum contact with the FBI, and deep cover.

"Being undercover is disguising one's own identity or using an assumed identity for the purposes of gaining the trust of an individual or organization to learn secret information or to gain the trust of targeted individuals in order to gain information or evidence. Traditionally it is a technique employed by law enforcement agencies around the world and a person who works in such a role is commonly referred to as an undercover agent."

She read the words "disguising one's own identity" and didn't fully understand how one did that. She still remembered what it had felt like to be Roxy. To pretend Booth was hers and to act like she owned it all, from the man next to her to the high heels she despised. To walk letting her hips sway, to smile like she knew everybody's secrets, to talk with a drawl that made men stare. It had been thrilling. Electrifying.

Like her dream.

But if asked to do that for two weeks, she would have said no. She couldn't do it, she couldn't be someone else for so long. It was more than simply disguising yourself. It was changing yourself, and…

"I hate psychology." She murmured under her breath.

Booth hadn't wanted her to do it this time, there had been a very loud and clear argument about that. She went above his rank, in the end, understanding his superior's reasoning, the lack of resources in this instance, and the need to act quickly. The danger of a loose killer. His protectiveness of her wasn't as important as potential lives to save, so it hurt her to hurt him, but she called the Deputy Director and they talked about protocol and risks and being a civilian working for the FBI for over two hours.

She decided she could do it as she shakily hung up the telephone. The danger was clear, but she understood her choice.

And yet, in her dream she'd completely forgotten or ignored it. Danger? What did the danger matter, if Booth talked to her like that? Who cared about some murderer when she could kiss in front of everyone? All that had mattered had been pressing herself against Booth in that dark lit place ready to do whatever dark deed she could make him beg for… and that wasn't right.

In the end, she'd paid the price, even in her dream. The killer found her.

"I really, really hate psychology." She said again, aloud, knowing no one could hear but not caring very much. Finally she stood up, discarding the latest article she'd been reading, crumpling it and throwing it into the bin.

The phone rang, and she hurried to get it.

"Hello?"

"Dr Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institution?"

"Who is this?"

"My name is Gabrielle Anor, I work for the FBI. Is this Dr Brennan?"

"Yes, can I help you? Usually Agent Booth…"

"I need you and Agent Booth to come to my department tomorrow after work. I am going to prep you for your Deep Cover assignment in terms of props, dress, etcetera."

"Oh. We're supposed to meet Dr Sweets there before…"

"Yes, for the psychological evaluation. Think of me as the physical one."

"All right, I suppose Agent Booth knows how to get to your department?"

"Of course Seeley knows."

Suddenly she didn't like miss Anor's tone.

"I already called him, so you don't need to tell him when you see him."

Brennan didn't say thank you.

"What do you mean when I see him? We haven't got a case, I'll meet him tomorrow…"

"He told me he's on his way here."

And Gabrielle Anor hung up.

The mutual dislike had been unsaid but clearly present during the conversation. They hadn't even met, how could the women despise her already?

Brennan walked to sit on her desk, remembered the taste he'd had when she'd kissed him inside this very office a year ago, and sighed as she let herself fall on the chair. She was doubting her ability to do this task successfully. She put her head in her hands, trying to dispel the headache beginning to form.

It was unlike her to doubt, an alien feeling which unsettled her, and it was especially frustrating because he…

"Bones!"

With a jerk her head snapped up.

"Hey Booth."

He looked concerned. He was wearing his usual suit, and a light blue tie she liked. The door to her office had been open, and now he leaned against the frame, and she felt inexplicably guilty for having been caught with her head in her hands.

"I've got the specifics of the case for you. Who we're going to be… where we're going, that sort of thing."

"I didn't volunteer blindly, Booth."

"What are the suspect's names?"

Silence. No, she didn't know. She knew their jobs, why she was needed to assist with the cover, but not their names. He was pleased that for once she didn't have an answer.

"Are you… worried?"

"No." She said immediately. His rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"Nervous?"

"Why should I be nervous?"

He gave a short laugh that was devoid of humour. She knew what came next.

He walked inside finally, purposefully striding until he towered over her even from the other side of the desk. She didn't like feeling smaller than him, so she stood up, ready to face his accusations.

She thought he was still angry that she'd put herself in danger to save other people, he thought loving her made feeling angry harder, but that maybe if he pretended he didn't, he'd be able to shout a little and talk some sense into her stubborn head.

"Why should you be nervous? I wonder why, Bones. Really, there seems to be no reason at all. I mean, you're only going to be living with me in a hotel for two weeks pretending to be my… someone I pay." His clear disgust at this only served to rile him up more. "All so that we can advance the investigation on five murders which aren't serial, but connected to an organisation suspected of contraband. Is it contraband of weapons? Of drugs? I wish. Contraband of people, Bones. Women."

She held his gaze with force.

"So why be worried, you ask? You might be in danger, you might be doing this for the first time in your life but hey, who's nervous? Not Temperance Brennan, that's for sure."

He wasn't really angry at her, he was furious at her decision not to include him in her suffering. This time, apparently, he didn't get to see what was wrong, didn't get to try and help. It was 'fix it alone Brennan', independent and selfless. Another moment of her life he didn't get to touch.

"Booth, I didn't make this decision lightly. I know the risks, I spoke to Deputy Director Edwards. I am aware of my inexperience."

"Then why did you say yes?"

"Because I can do it. I can help, and I'm the only one. Agent Perotta is heading another team, and Agent Jureau is in Barcelona. This cover requires a young woman to be your partner." she never had problems enunciating any word. But this one she couldn't. "And I am the only one who can do it."

He didn't like the way she said 'partner' like it could mean 'lover'. It felt frightening.

"Then admit you're nervous. Let me help you with this."

She held on to her feelings, however. Maybe that should have told him just how afraid she was. Maybe that was the warning sign he desperately sought.

"No."

He knew she wasn't just denying him the fact that she was nervous. She was denying his help. That was what made him say what he said next.

"So having to touch me and kiss me won't affect you, right? Nothing about me will ever affect you, will it?"

She stared at him, eyes wide and blue and he thought she was surprised at his words, but really she was surprised that he couldn't see how wrong he was. That he had no idea.

He wished she'd understood that he wanted an answer to his question.

"Everyone knows Dr Brennan can be one hundred percent rational. No emotions, no strings, just acting. Miss Compartmentalise, aren't you? And you're so good at that, why worry at all, I wonder?"

"Are you finished?" she asked coldly, hating the way her eyes glistened.

They stared each other down for an entire minute, an unspoken argument being solved without words.

In the end, he exhaled a breath and the anger left with it.

"Bones, it's just difficult for me sometimes, to understand the way you feel." He said through gritted teeth.

"It's not for you to understand." She spoke sharply. But the edges didn't quite cut, and he knew she'd eventually forgive him.

"I'm sorry. But it's normal to be upset. You've never done this before…"

"I'm not feeling very forgiving, Booth."

"Bones, it's normal. Just admit you don't want to talk about it, and let's move on. But… maybe later? Maybe you change your mind and you want me to help you?"

"All I need is reassurance." She whispered quietly. "That you'll be there. That's all I need, and I already know that. So why should I need to hear it again? But I do. I need you to never leave me. Never."

"Never. I'll always be there to protect-"

"Not protect. I will have to protect myself, we won't always be together physically. I mean… just… be. Be there."
"Always." He said solemnly, in a hoarse, deep tone.

"Okay then." She nodded to herself not looking at him, looking down instead. Her tone was matter of fact. "Are you satisfied now? I'm… I will be all right. I'm ready to do this."

She looked up, and he saw her eyes were shining. He walked swiftly around the desk and crushed her to his chest, feeling horrible for shouting at her, but melting with the relief that she'd finally opened up.

"Bones…"
"Not now." Her voice was a breathless whisper, but he knew she needed quiet.

They were silent for a few moments, holding each other more tightly than usual. When was the last time he'd hugged her? It felt a long time ago. Was that why he couldn't bear to let her go now?

Finally, the tension in the air slowly faded away. Only to be replaced with another, more familiar tension.

"Do you want to know our names?" he said drawing away, a small grin in place.

"That sentence sounded strange." She said, and her voice was cool but she was smiling a little too.

"You're going to be Laura."

"Laura?"

"Yeah, I didn't get to pick."

She mused on this choice of words.

"So… what would my name be if you could have?"

He grinned. "That's not for you to know."

"Come on, Booth."

"Nope. And I'm Robert, not Booth anymore." He said in an exaggerated, deeper voice. She laughed, and he knew he could breathe again because she'd forgiven him.

"Robert and Laura. What's your last name?"

"Peterson."

"What about mine?"

"Thompson. But here's the thing, you won't introduce yourself as Laura, because that's your real name."

She didn't understand.

"Why not?"

"Most prostitutes use fake names. Only one rich client is about the highest status there is, understand?"

"Yes, I know this."

"Well, apparently it means nothing crass. A stylish name, Edwards said. I'll shoot you, I said." She laughed again. He fell in love with the rarity of the sound. "But the result was that you get to pick your fake name."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It doesn't have to be on any license, so you can invent it."

"A stylish name for a well-paid prostitute?"

"Afraid so." They exchanged looks of chagrin.

"I'll think about it."

He began to leave, but stopped at the door. She hated the metaphor he presented right now: always hovering at the door but never coming inside or going outside. Or doing both, which meant nothing.

"Bones, do you forgive that little outburst back there?"

She smiled. "It's normal. You were nervous, too."

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So think of this as a bit of a prologue. Of sorts. Something about it is missing… I dunno, I'm not totally satisfied with it. WARNING: I might come back and rewrite. But I hope you still like!

The cool stuff is coming next chap!

As always, thoughts are MUCH appreciated! Criticism is also welcome. (If it's good, and along the lines of: "Oh you are the best author in the world and the Bones fanfiction is lucky to have you!")
Ehem. Along those lines ;)

Not that I can't take criticism!

You know what? Bring it on!