You Can't UnRing the Bell

3. Let's Not Get Carried Away

He still believed in fate. In the sarcastic poking of an unapologetic destiny constantly there to remind him that there would never be any escaping her. He was literally trapped. They had learned with consternation that the former jock and his botoxed cheerleader were on their floor, and had maintained their cheerful faces for an interminable elevator ride. Well, interminable to him, at least. When he peered at his partner, confusion systematically took over. She was still clinging to him, and he had no idea of what it could mean. He, who could usually read into the smallest gesture, was paralyzed at her insanely unusual behavior.

He knew she was not trying anything in particular. Manipulation had never been her forte. More than that, he knew she was not the shrewd type; that was one of the reasons why he loved her. So what could it possibly mean? Not for an instant did he consider she could be doing this for their audience's sake. Her fingers were too tightly entwined with his own, her body too heavily resting against him. This was intimate. This was theirs.

When they finally reached their room, he instantly broke contact with her. She made a perplexed face before realizing that, after all, they had been doing nothing but faking for the past several hours. Disappointment washed over her. But she soon surrendered.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said, looking down.

"Sure. I'll just..." He pointed at the television.

He watched the bathroom door shut behind her and cursed himself. We'll be okay? Yeah, right.

Ten minutes later, she stepped out of the shower still wondering what she had done wrong. Everything? Most likely. She had thought the episode in the car had eased things a bit; that he would make more efforts to put up with her. As though he is not making enough efforts already... She suddenly understood how he had felt when she had mercilessly rejected him. He must have felt like he was alone in the world. He must have felt like she was feeling just now. She would have to snap out of it sooner or later. Later.

She examined herself in the mirror -body and soul- nakedly exposed to her own dispassionate inspection. She could not understand how or why he had showed such remarkable patience with her over the years. She had made no efforts. None. He had always been the one showing her the way. I tried... But it's so hard. How could he even fall in love with me?

As she pondered over this unexplainable fact, she grabbed a cotton robe hanging close by. When she put it on, one of the sleeves hit the wedding ring she had forgotten on the sink. It instantly fell down the drain.

She sighed. Dammit!

"Booth!" she called out.

She heard him approach, but her eyes remained fixed on the sink. Mesmerized by the possible significance of what had just happened. Stop it, Temperance. There is no significance to it. It is purely coincidental. She heard him stop right behind the door.

"You okay Bones? Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, can you come in, please?"

He entered, swallowing hard as he saw she was wearing a simple cotton robe... and that she was still wet. He could not prevent his eyes from wandering way below the acceptable limit.

"What's wrong?" he swallowed again, trying to catch his breath through the thick, hot, damped air.

"The ring fell down the drain," she stated matter-of-factly.

He had no idea why, but he felt pissed.

"Bones! Don't you know you're not supposed to just take your wedding ring off and put it on the sink?!"