THE FIRE IN THE SNOW

I.

The crime scene was secluded and almost beautiful... as beautiful as a crime scene could ever be, Booth thought. He was standing on a hill, the vast green in front of him forming soft curves, interrupted by brownish spots of farmland. Behind him, where the coroner's car with the exhumed skeleton had just driven away, stood a weathered cottage, seemingly abandoned, and right behind it, the woodland began.

Less than two hours away from the city, the world seemed to stand still. The FBI agent inhaled deeply, the air clean and cold on his tongue, and upon exhaling, little white puffs could be seen. The temperature had fallen rapidly since they had arrived at the scene earlier this morning, and it smelled like snow.

Around him, the squints were packing their, well, squinty equipment back into their squinty equipment boxes. His partner of more than three years was there, Temperance Brennan, as well as Jack Hodgins, designated dirt and dust expert, and Cam Saroyan. Friend, former lover, flesh lady.

This scene hadn't really required her expertise, but a recent murder in DC had kept them busy the past weeks, had eventually led them to a suspect, a confession and this old and long-forgotten act of violence as well. The victim, the peace-less bones they had just discovered, had been a young mother; abducted, abused and murdered... just like the other woman who had died less than a month ago, their victim back in DC.

Cam had found an excuse to come with them today, and even Brennan, despite her outstanding capability to compartmentalize, had realized that this one was about closure – for the victims as much as for the team.

And now they were done. There would be burials, there would be a trial, there would be a verdict. They would move on. And it was about time to move away from the pain. The pain of the case... the pain of Zack gone, of a wedding that had not happened, of a death that hadn't been. So much had happened in the past year, and it was hard to live with the burden.

Turning around, Booth shook off the strange feeling of melancholy and rubbed his frozen hands, as he watched his team. He had spent a long time gaining their trust – and then regaining it after his fake death. By now, things felt almost normal again, but, every now and then, he could still sense some cracks in their relationship. Not with all of them, but, sadly, with the one that mattered the most. Letting go of a soft sigh, Booth regarded his partner carefully. She looked tired and even paler than usual.

Barely recovered from his "death", she had had to face the betrayal of her favorite apprentice, and Booth knew that it had hit her deeply, both of it. Only a few months ago, he could have comforted her with words and hugs, but, these days, their friendship was dangerously out of balance. She didn't exactly avoid him, but she kept him at distance, and everything felt fragile somehow.

A sudden ice-cold wind gust hit him, and Booth shivered, clearing his throat.

"Are we done? Because it seems as if a snowstorm is heading our way, and I don't wanna be stuck here when it happens."

"Almost."

"Great. Come on, let me help you, Bones."

He approached his partner, but she refused his offer to heave the big evidence box into the trunk of his black SUV.

"I can manage."

"Fine, okay," he hissed, suddenly annoyed. "Cam?"

"Sure, thanks."

"Whoa, look at that."

Hodgins pointed heavenwards. Where the ice-cold blue sky had been only minutes ago, big angry clouds were accumulating. Fast.

"Okay, let's go."

The four of them hurried to get into the car, and Booth cast a last glance at the scenery. In the fierce light of the approaching storm, it didn't look quite so peaceful anymore. Ignoring the seat belt, he turned the key in the ignition, awaiting the reassuring growl of the machine. Nothing. He did it again. The result remained the same.

"Shit," he uttered between pressed teeth, and Brennan next to him turned her head.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. It doesn't start."

"Bad timing, man," came Hodgins' voice from the backseat, and Booth turned around.

"Really? Thanks, I hadn't noticed."

The moment Booth left the car with a silent curse, the first snowflakes hit their windshield. They were white and fluffy, and Cam who sat behind Brennan stated dryly,

"Freezing is among the most pleasant causes of death."

"I agree, it should be like falling asleep," Brennan concurred, and Hodgins unbuckled himself to get out of the car.

"One advice between friends: Don't tell Booth."

The snowfall increased, and what had started as featherlight white flakes turned into a mass of gray fairly quickly, blocking their view.

"I'm kind of glad that we're not on the road," Cam said after a while of silence.

"The alternative doesn't seem to be very pleasant, either," Brennan stated, and then the hood in front of them fell shut, revealing two shivering and snow-covered men. Booth opened the car door.

"Change of plan, we're staying."

-BONES-

Ten minutes later they had transferred everything that made sense into the old cottage, and one phone call – at least the net was still working – had confirmed their suspicion. Nobody would come to rescue them, not tonight, not during this storm. The daylight was vanishing quickly, and the falling darkness was accompanied by a howling wind. At least, they would be dry. Still, the cottage was old, smelling like mold and dust, and cold crept in through holes in the rough planks.

"We have Booth's gym bag, a spare suit, a sleeping bag, two blankets, flashlights, some water bottles, muesli bars and some leftover sandwiches from lunch," Hodgins counted.

"So, we will survive," Brennan stated, but Booth wiggled his head.

"First of all, Hodgins and I have to change. Then we have to check that old fireplace or it'll be a very cold night."

"Or we could form a circle to share our body heat. This is like Survivor, man."

"Really? You think this is cool Dr. Hodgins?"

"There will be no sharing of body heat whatsoever, forget it. Seeley, you can make a fire, can't you?"

"I'm a Ranger, Camille."

"Implying?"

"I can make a fire, Bones, okay? Why don't you two girls clean a little bit while Mr. Survivor and I check the other rooms for something wooden we can chop and burn?"

"This is a very chauvinistic approach. I refuse to be reduced to my gender, Booth, I can search wood as well," Brennan complained.

"Fire, Dr. B. This is a guy thing," Hodgins added, and Booth rolled his eyes.

"Just, for once, don't scrutinize everything, Bones. Can't you just clean a little bit and prepare dinner?"

"Dinner consists of muesli bars and frozen sandwiches," she snapped, and suddenly the air between Booth and Brennan seemed to freeze. The temperature which had been frosty to begin with dropped a few more degrees, and Cam hurried to interrupt.

"Technically, I am your boss. So, you, Dr. Hodgins, go with Booth; Dr. Brennan, you stay with me."

Everything on Brennan's face betrayed her disapproval, but she bit her lip stubbornly and didn't say anything anymore. Booth grabbed gym bag and suit, leaving the room with Hodgins in his wake. Cam found it wise to busy herself as well and went in search for... well, whatever there was to make the night more bearable.

Brennan was angry. At Booth, at the snow, at this cottage. She knew that most of her anger was directed quite irrationally, but she could neither redirect nor explain it. Ever since Booth had been dead and then not, he could infuriate her more easily than before. On the surface, everything was right again, their partnership intact, but between the moment where the surgeon had approached her in the ER, informing her about her partner's death, and the events in the graveyard, there was a blur of chaos and hurt. Traces of the darkness that had consumed her during those dreadful days were still there, lingering underneath her calm appearance, and, every once in a while, something inside of her exploded in blinding madness.

Taking a deep breath, she looked out of the window, but there was nothing to see. However, some in- and exhales later, she felt calmer, and with the calmness, Brennan realized how bloody cold it was. Her fingers were nearly numb and had turned to an unhealthy shade of pale. Rubbing her hands, she turned around, and, with a smirk on her face, Cam had manifested in the door frame.

"I've found this." A broom.

"And even better: this." A bottle full of golden something.

"Alcohol?"

"Hell yeah. Want some?"

"Getting intoxicated might not be wise under the circumstances. An inebriated body is quite defenseless against low temperatures."

"I have the utmost faith that the boys will manage to make a fire. Or we try the body heat circle after all, with some of this in our systems it might not be so bad anymore."

Opening the bottle, Cam took a healthy gulp and coughed.

"Yes, it should work."

Outstretching her hand, Brennan accepted the bottle, and then the alcohol, some kind of cheap Whiskey, she realized, burned down her throat. Her stomach revolted, but only briefly, and soon a pleasant kind of warmth spread out in her insides, and she smiled.

"Alcohol seems to be one way to make the night more bearable."

"I hear you. Come on, let's make this place cozy."

When Hodgins and Booth came back five minutes later, the area in front of the old fireplace was fairly dust-free and some blankets were spread out on the floor. On a makeshift table Cam had arranged their leftover food, and Hodgins whistled, as he noticed the open bottle.

"You found booze."

"You found... some chairs? And why are you wearing Booth's hockey gear?"

The curly-haired man almost blushed.

"It was this or my wet clothes since Booth refused to give me the suit."

"No way I'm sitting here in my hockey stuff," Booth jumped in, carrying some pieces of wood that looked as if they'd been a shelf in their former life.

"Alcohol?" He wrinkled his nose. "Is that such a good idea?"

"Yes," Cam and Brennan stated in unison, both of them drinking straight from the bottle once again.

"One of us should stay sober, though, and since you are the Ranger," Hodgins implied, snatching the bottle from Cam.

"Alright, I get it," Booth sighed, crouching down in front of the fireplace.

Outside, the snow was battling with the wind, inside the bottle was circling, and a few minutes later, the scent of flames filled the air, accompanied by dancing light and a hunch of warmth.

"We need more wood to make it through the night. Come on, Hodgins, let's hack that old table as well."

The other man groaned, ogling the bottle longingly.

"Maybe Dr. B wants to?"

Brennan shook her head.

"If I recall correctly, fire is a guy thing."

"Crap."

Hodgins got up with a sigh, leaving the two women alone in front of the flickering fire. Brennan took a muesli bar, chewing slowly, and Cam toyed with one of the sandwiches. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"Dr. Brennan? May I ask you a question?"

"You already have."

Cam felt those irritating deep blue eyes on her, and if it hadn't been for the alcohol already circulating through her system, she might have rethought her next words. So she didn't.

"Why are you so angry at Booth?"

"I am not... angry at him."

"I mean in general. Ever since he came back."

Brennan's gaze dropped, and for a moment, she lost herself in the dancing firelight. Then she reached for their bottle anew.

"He hasn't told me."

"I get that, he should have. But he apologized."

"He left without telling," Brennan whispered, and, suddenly, everything made sense.

Unbeknownst to them, Booth had approached the room, but upon hearing their words, he stilled without entering, sucking in a breath.

Moving on the thin ice of tentative friendship, Cam reached out her hand to touch Brennan's arm.

"He didn't know. You were on his list. He didn't even put my name on it, but he wanted for you to know. He would never abandon you."

"From where I was standing, he did," came the soft reply, and Cam felt a sudden hunch of tender warmth for her stubborn coworker.

"He is alive, Dr. Brennan. Did you even put your arms around him ever since? Have you felt his heartbeat? When he was dead, what did you want?"

"I... I just wanted him back."

"To yell at him? To argue with him?"

"No... I... I don't know."

"You've gotten a second chance. Do you realize that?"

Suddenly, Brennan found it very hard to speak, and she swallowed against the lump in her throat.

"I don't know what to do about it. I... I just don't know."

"Human beings are not meant to live alone."

"Are you speaking about romantic entanglements, Dr. Saroyan?"

"We have the ability to touch each other. It's both a gift and a burden. Can't you just accept the gift part of it every once in a while?"

Brennan frowned.

"That is too figurative."

Cam took the bottle with a sigh.

"Let me put it this way. You've mourned his loss without ever having had him."

"Had him?"

"Well, in the entangling kind of way, romantic or not."

"The way you've had him?"

There was sudden sharpness in Brennan's voice that took Cam by surprise.

"We've never touched each other, Dr. Brennan." Cam's eyes were big and candid. "Not like you two do. I've never been what you are for him."

"And what am I?"

The storm had left them unguarded and vulnerable, and both women regarded each other with new honesty. Finally, Cam broke the gaze, pushing the bottle back into Brennan's hand.

"I'm sorry, but that one you have to figure out by yourself."

"I don't believe in the things he believes in."

"But you believe in him. Just like he believes in you. The people who infuriate you the most are the only ones who can make you truly happy. Because they matter. Just... just consider this, will you?"

"I... I will. What about you?"

Cam laughed out.

"I've never been that mad at Booth. Do you know that he stopped gambling the day he met you?"

Brennan's head flung around.

"He told me about his gambling problem and that he was dealing with it."

"Well, he wasn't dealing with it before you and your funny ponytail came into his life."

One more swig.

"You think the ponytail was funny?"

Harrumphing loudly, Booth chose that moment to enter the room, his arms full of chopped wood, and the women froze.

"Booth..."

"What did you hear, Seeley?"

"Something about a funny ponytail," he lied, rearranging the wood in the cracking fire. His face was glowing, but he managed to hide it. Hodgins entered the room shortly after, oblivious to the shared and overheard secrets.

"I'd say we bet the old furniture. I'm fairly hungry now."

Cam patted the blanket next to her.

"Take a seat, dinner is ready."

To be continued...