Voices Carry

[j_hodgins]

continued from here

No use in running
It's always the same
You can count on the panic
It's the faces that change...

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[j_hodgins]

The impossibility of attraction had never interrupted Jack’s romantic pursuits. He’d wound his way around inconvenient husbands, boyfriends and girlfriends before and never met a dangerous liaison that didn’t intrigue him.

It was never about conquest. It was always about making the world as it should be. As in “you’d be happier with me,” or “we’d have so much fun together,” or “it could be different. Better.” It wasn’t so much his belief in himself that informed such a confident worldview - it was his belief in chemistry. Complimentary attributes. Like components. Similar features.

But this?

Seeley's intensity, the sheer will of him trapped Jack in an improbable grip of need, and not just the need to really kiss him, full and deep and slow and breathlessly, or to really touch him, every inch, every patch of flesh ... but a need to know him. See him. Understand the genesis of his fear, learn what makes him laugh, what impulse drives him to love...

Jack shook his thoughts off and hoped it didn't manifest physically as anything more than a shrug.

"Kids, probably. Got a nasty uncle or three that might want to frolic in the fall dunes with a willing accomplice or a congressional page. God only knows, man.

"And my guess is that she turns a blind eye."

[former_ranger]

"So she saw something that she shouldn't. Something that wasn't planned, but something that happened in the passion of the moment."

Booth picked up his new glass of beer and sucked a mouthful down. His mind at a party in the fall, cold breeze and laughter. A fire on the beach and music playing in the distance. Couples snuggling around the warmth and a few sneaking off into the dark to find their own way to keep warm.

Maybe a group out by the edge of the ocean, shooting up fireworks in the dark. A couple of house servants watching, keeping the coolers filled with beer, sausages on the grill, chips and dip on the picnic tables.

His skin would be cold here. Where the wind off the water had drawn out all the moisture. His mouth would be hot. His eyes would be closed and his body would fold under Booth's as if he was giving himself away. His hands would be tight as they gripped Seeley's biceps and it would be the first time ... for both of them. Like nothing before.

It would be pain and trust and it would last forever. It would take away the fear. It would strip the terror away from Booth's soul and it would save him.

"We need to find out what she saw. And who saw her."

[j_hodgins]

Booth was smiling, sitting back, shoulders wide against the pitted chair.

Jack wondered what he saw. If he could see.

And it struck him, in the radiance of that smile, that there was nothing.

Booth had Rebecca. Cam. And any idiot with eyes in his head could see that he was over the moon for Brennan. He'd thought circles around it for hours, studied slides to avoid it, made himself tense and irritable when it crossed his mind -- but there, in the light of that brilliant smile, in the depths of those impossibly beautiful eyes and the curve of that sensuous mouth, Jack could see it.

The truth.

That Booth was there, with him, not to share a meal and bond or any of that homoerotic buddy shit he'd convinced himself might be true as he lunged for Booth in that hallway, but to work.

To do what he'd asked. To help solve the mystery of Lucille's death.

It boiled the heavy dinner in his gut and he could feel his temper slipping. He resisted the urge to pull hard at the rubber band on his wrist and called for the check.

"We will," he said, trying to sound friendly, matter-of-fact. "But what we need to do tonight is get the hell out of here and open up the house so I can hit the fucking sheets."

[former_ranger]

"Sure. Thought you wanted to talk about business."

Booth grabbed the check from the waitress' hand before she could hand it to Jack. He stood and went to the register, paying without thinking about what he was doing. He was out in the dark and waiting by the SUV before Jack had left the restaurant and he had to keep his mind on the case. On the discrepancies. On the mystery.

The air was chill and Seeley could see his breath as it blew out of his mouth. White clouds that disappated before they could move a foot from his face.

[j_hodgins]

He took a moment to swallow back the irritation, to manage the prickles of hurt shooting through his shoulders, down his arms. Just sat at the table, alone, and ran it down one more time.

Booth was frantic, out of his mind. Bound and gagged and flayed open by the fear.

Jack just happened to be there.

It could have been anyone else. Might have been his ex, or his present, or Agent Cutie or the waitress.

And the looks, the glances, the vibe he caught that made him believe was a projection of his own loneliness and despair, and he had no right to project it on Seeley -- or to blame him when the new day dawned and the entire incident was passed off as just that -- the incident.

He was goddamned if he'd turn it into the elephant in the room.

Stamnding, Jack breathed deep, hard. Months of feeling the heat between them, of sensing that there might, that there could, that if the light was right and the moon was at the right spot in the sky there could ... dissolved in JD-soaked panic that had nothing to do with...

He couldn't even think the word.

Jack trotted out into the chilly parking lot and to the driver's side next to where Booth waited. As he neared him, he realized that he wanted -- needed -- Booth's friendship. His companionship. And that he'd be fucking honored to have it.

He smiled, meaning it. Resolved.

"I know my way around. In the dark this place is a bitch to navigate. Why don't you let me drive to the compound?"

[former_ranger]

It would have been easy to say yes. It would have been simple to toss Jack the keys and move over to the passenger door. It probably would have made more sense to give in to the smile and the nod and the outstretched hand and get to his bed quicker. Get a door and a hallway away from this man. Get another night's sleep separating them.

Easy.

And so very not Seeley Booth.

"I'll drive."

Seeley kept the keys in his hand and unlocked the car. He turned back and smiled at Jack's expression. He reached up and rubbed his thumb over Hodgin's bottom lip, his own teeth biting into the soft blush of his own mouth.

"I like it too much when you tell me where to go."

[j_hodgins]

Tasering would have come as less of a shock.

Booth's thumb was hot and hard, pressing into his teeth. Posessive.

Something in the far reaches of Jack's consciousness snapped, jolting him into the new and startling reality, tipping him upside down in his skin.

Without thinking, Jack slapped Booth's hand away and rolled his eyes. Turning, he dug his heels into the asphalt and strode to the passenger side of the SUV, ignoring whatever better nature had helped him keep his mouth shut for the entire day.

"That's just fucking great. Fanfuckingtastic. Bad enough to be falling for a goddamn fed." he muttered. "Take a left out of the lot," he instructed, beting himself in to the passenger side and slamming the door just a little too hard. "Then take your second right."

[former_ranger]

Seeley got into the SUV. He turned the key and started the engine. He rolled down his window and followed Jack's directions. The cold air did nothing to cool him off. The town passed by in a blur and they were out in the true dark before Booth was ready for it.

The car crept along a two lane path, bushes on either side and the sound of the surf hitting rocks under the soft purr of the engine. Seeley's eyes had adjusted to the dim light and he glanced over, his eyes caressing the outline of the man that sat in the seat beside him. As far away as he possibly could get. A continent. A world. A lifetime.

"Who was the first man you ever kissed?"

[j_hodgins]

"Billy. Billy Quintilani."

Jack kept his eyes on the road, didn't look at Seeley. He had know way to know that his question was uncovering a puzzle piece to Lucille's life, had no way to understand that he'd intuitively found the first wedge driven between them, so many years before. And that the memory hurt, still. Especially.

"We were classmates at CalTech. Sophmore botany. He kissed me in a hangar in Pasadena where we were working on a float for the Tournament of Roses. Tall. Italian. Cute. We dated for that winter."

The words spilled out before he could hold them back, soft and hot in the chill of the cab, leaving wide clouds of breath on the windshield.

"Lucille didn't approve. She thought I should have stayed on the right side of the fence, she said. It hurt her. Take your next left."

Jack turned his face to Booth and returned the question with scientific dispassion, struggling to control the flood of memory and the flood of anguished feeling actually having the conversation had sparked.

"What about you?"

[former_ranger]

The SUV crawled along the dirt path and Seeley wished that he still smoked. His fingers curled as if he was still holding a cigarette, they brushed his lips as if he was holding the filter up to his mouth. He inhaled and exhaled as if he was still grabbing for that nicotine rush.

He glanced out the open window and marveled at the stars that shown above them. A carpet of light.

"In the army. Scott. We'd just taken out a key. After all day on a dune in the sun and the fucker didn't present until the last light of day and I shot him down before he even saw the sunset."

A curve in the road and Booth followed it, turning the wheel in his hand and staring at the twin paths as if they held the secret of life. Fifteen miles an hour. Slower.

"A hug. It was nothing. Everyone hugged, but then he kissed me. Right fucking there in the last light of day. He fucking kissed me and I kissed him back and I wanted more. I realized I'd always wanted more."

A dark shape rose in front of us. Not rock, not sand, not surf. It was manmade and huge, imposing and dark and empty.

Seeley parked. He turned off the engine and turned to Jack in the dark of the car, the interior lights fading and dying as he stared into a blue that burned.

"Why did Lucille disapprove?"

[j_hodgins]

Jack’s camped in the Mojave and knows that relatively luxurious experience bears no resemblance to where Booth has been. But he knows how easily skin blisters and peels there, how it dries to the texture of the sand and eventually splits and weeps; blood at first, then something akin to tears.

He hates the shimmering endlessness of the desert and its blank deception. The thought of Booth finding comfort in that unthinkable desolation made Jack smile at the same time that it embroidered a cluster of sharp knots in his heart.

Silly, but Jack wished he’d been the first. Been there.

The sting of that wildly uncharacteristic wish twisted his mouth and he shook his head to clear it. Squinting through the fogged-up windshield at the silhouette of the main house, Jack waited while his sight adjusted to the familiar shapes and cut of board and stone against the night sky.

“You can go to a fancy Caribbean resort with the object of your affection and screw yourself senseless and nobody will take a second glance. If you live in the culture and you’re caught doing the same thing you’ll wind up dead. And not simple execution-style death either,” he sighed. “Hunt you down like a dog in the street death. Lynching. And not twenty years ago, or fifty. Today.

“Lucille was very, very Creole, very Catholic. Even as worldly as she was she believed that men having sex with men was perversion. A sin against God and an indelible stain on the soul. She didn’t want my life to be tainted by it. She blamed my upbringing, said I had no self-control. Sometimes what we want is wrong and we should be strong enough to walk away from it.”

He could still see her handwriting, stark and clear on the ivory page. You suffer from the weakness of privilege, and it will ruin you. It will soften your mind and blacken your heart and you will have nobody to blame but yourself.

“For me to admit attraction to a guy, much less act on it, hurt her. I hurt her. She worried for my soul.” He peered past the massive structure, toward the maze. “It didn’t stop me. I just got better at keeping secrets.”

Conspiracies.

Realizing he was clutching the door handle in a death grip, Jack lifted the latch and pushed the door open, eyes focused on the landscape beyond.

“So now you know the story of how Jack came to live in his queer closet,” he chuckled bitterly. “Welcome to the summer house.”

[former_ranger]

"Sounds like Lucille and I have more in common than I thought."

Seeley slid out of the driver's seat, pocketed the keys and stared up into the black outline of the house that towered over them. He could hear surf pounding in the background, the call of crickets just emerging from their winter hibernation or whatever the fuck bugs did when it was below freezing.

Booth opened another car door and pulled out his bag and jacket. When the door shut, it was quiet. Silent. And Seeley walked around the SUV to join Jack and wait for the other man to move.

"Does anyone sleep here? Any of the help?"

[j_hodgins]

"I told you, man. Lucille would have dug you. You'd make her laugh," he said, smiling. Jack knew it was true: after a maddening game of good cop/bad cop she would have deemed him worthy of her company and let him in. "You help. That's how she measured people."

After hoisting his brimming-full messenger bag over his shoulder and grabbing his duffel, Jack closed the truck door and stared up at the silhouette of the massive house against the dim night.

There were no signs of life, not even the illusion of occupancy had been left, but houses on the Cape were like that. It was an old community, old and wealthy, and lights were unnecessary when the property was exquisitely and thoroughly alarmed.

"Not this time of year. We've got someone who does a grounds check once a day until the house opens on the weekend after April 15." He thought a moment. "But most of the staff's local now, not like it was in the old days. So we can dig them up fairly easily."

Jack dug a folded slip of paper out of his jacket pocket and gestured toward the front entrance.

"We can worry about that tomorrow," he said.

[former_ranger]

"Now I help."

Seeley followed Jack through the dark. His shoulders rolled under his shirt and he felt the vibration of his cell phone through the thin cotton of a front jean pocket.

He pulled it out, checked the number and flipped it open.

"Hey Bones."

Booth glanced over and caught the bright moonlight as it crossed over Jack's face. The pale white made the blue appear silver. It made shadows of Jack's cheeks and temples and Seeley knew the dark at the hollow of his throat would be moist and warm and taste like clouds.

"Yeah." Booth talked into the phone, but kept his eyes on Jack.

"I'm on vacation. Relaxing. No work, I promise. Somewhere out on the coast, just checking in now. Might do some fishing in the surf tomorrow, who knows?"

Seeley's smile widened and he nodded as if Temperance was there, in front of him.

"Good night to you, Bones. Talk to you later."

Booth snapped his phone shut.

"Going to open the door, Hodgins? Let me in?"