Seeley Booth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paladinsuitsyou) wrote2007-04-13 11:03 pm
paladinsuitsyou) wrote2007-04-13 11:03 pm
OOM: Breaking up with Cam
Booth always knows where he stands with Camille Saroyan.
It's one of the things about her that he treasures. She's an attractive woman, he's an attractive man. They like and respect each other, and they have amazing sex.
She's direct, emotionally open in a way he's not used to. It's another thing he values about her. She's also funny as hell, and that matters in their lines of work. After a rough day or week, relaxing with Cam over a glass of wine or a beer makes him forget whatever it was that irked him. Cam makes him forget the dark and think about what makes life worthwhile.
The only other person who makes him feel anything like that is Parker. Even Bones, as much as he likes her, doesn't make him forget the dark.
Bones makes it more bearable, but that's something he doesn't much care to think about. It smacks too much of making someone he sort of regards as a younger, awkward sibling (despite their closeness in age, her attractiveness) into a woman, his equal. It's best not to think of it. It blurs lines. And he's done enough of that already, with Cam. There's no need for more.
God, she looks so tiny on that hospital bed. She's so strong, has such a big personality, that he forgets how small she really is.
He's twitching with impatience as the nurse administers the antidote.
"Why's it taking so long?"
The nurse looks up, frowning at his impatience. "It's not. She's responding."
Camille's eyelids flutter, then her eyes lock onto him, and she smiles, a bit dazedly, but it's a sweet smile.
"Camille?" he asks tentatively, as if she might not be, as if someone else might have taken over her body while she was unconscious.
"Seeley," she replies, still out of it, but clearly glad to see him there.
He laughs hoarsely. "Don't call me Seeley."
"Don't call me Camille." Her reply lacks the usual tart flirtatiousness she says that with, but Booth knows that just her saying it is a good sign that she's still herself, after all.
"How ya' feelin' babe?"
She makes a wry face. "Like I got poisoned," she says, pausing for breath. "By a disembodied head full of plaster dust."
At first Booth's just worried by the way she's breathing - her voice is all choked up, and the words of that long sentence are hard to get out.
By the end, though, he's latched onto something else. "Plaster dust?" he says, frowning. "Plaster dust."
The pieces are falling into place. But that doesn't mean he can't do what he came here to do.
"Cam, I -"
She's still giving him that fond look, but something's entered her eyes now. Does she know what's coming next? Does she realize what a mistake this all is? How messed up it is, how she almost died because of their relationship?
"We can't do this anymore. Us. Outside of work."
And there it is, the hurt surprise that's quickly followed by understanding. "Because of this." Her tone indicates the hospital bed, the poison, the threat against Parker.
Booth presses his mouth into a thin, hard line. "Yeah."
Cam frowns, thoughtful. "There's no way I can talk you out of this?"
Booth closes his eyes, looking pained. "No."
She musters up her best smile, which is still sort of pathetic, but it's the best she can manage. "Okay then. You go chase down that clue you've been gnawing on since I said plaster dust. Figured out where he is?"
Booth blinks. He hadn't noticed her noticing that. "Uh, yeah, I think," he says, startled out of his monosyllabic stress mode.
Her smile strengthens a little, at that. "Then you'd better go get the fucking bastard."
It's one of the things about her that he treasures. She's an attractive woman, he's an attractive man. They like and respect each other, and they have amazing sex.
She's direct, emotionally open in a way he's not used to. It's another thing he values about her. She's also funny as hell, and that matters in their lines of work. After a rough day or week, relaxing with Cam over a glass of wine or a beer makes him forget whatever it was that irked him. Cam makes him forget the dark and think about what makes life worthwhile.
The only other person who makes him feel anything like that is Parker. Even Bones, as much as he likes her, doesn't make him forget the dark.
Bones makes it more bearable, but that's something he doesn't much care to think about. It smacks too much of making someone he sort of regards as a younger, awkward sibling (despite their closeness in age, her attractiveness) into a woman, his equal. It's best not to think of it. It blurs lines. And he's done enough of that already, with Cam. There's no need for more.
God, she looks so tiny on that hospital bed. She's so strong, has such a big personality, that he forgets how small she really is.
He's twitching with impatience as the nurse administers the antidote.
"Why's it taking so long?"
The nurse looks up, frowning at his impatience. "It's not. She's responding."
Camille's eyelids flutter, then her eyes lock onto him, and she smiles, a bit dazedly, but it's a sweet smile.
"Camille?" he asks tentatively, as if she might not be, as if someone else might have taken over her body while she was unconscious.
"Seeley," she replies, still out of it, but clearly glad to see him there.
He laughs hoarsely. "Don't call me Seeley."
"Don't call me Camille." Her reply lacks the usual tart flirtatiousness she says that with, but Booth knows that just her saying it is a good sign that she's still herself, after all.
"How ya' feelin' babe?"
She makes a wry face. "Like I got poisoned," she says, pausing for breath. "By a disembodied head full of plaster dust."
At first Booth's just worried by the way she's breathing - her voice is all choked up, and the words of that long sentence are hard to get out.
By the end, though, he's latched onto something else. "Plaster dust?" he says, frowning. "Plaster dust."
The pieces are falling into place. But that doesn't mean he can't do what he came here to do.
"Cam, I -"
She's still giving him that fond look, but something's entered her eyes now. Does she know what's coming next? Does she realize what a mistake this all is? How messed up it is, how she almost died because of their relationship?
"We can't do this anymore. Us. Outside of work."
And there it is, the hurt surprise that's quickly followed by understanding. "Because of this." Her tone indicates the hospital bed, the poison, the threat against Parker.
Booth presses his mouth into a thin, hard line. "Yeah."
Cam frowns, thoughtful. "There's no way I can talk you out of this?"
Booth closes his eyes, looking pained. "No."
She musters up her best smile, which is still sort of pathetic, but it's the best she can manage. "Okay then. You go chase down that clue you've been gnawing on since I said plaster dust. Figured out where he is?"
Booth blinks. He hadn't noticed her noticing that. "Uh, yeah, I think," he says, startled out of his monosyllabic stress mode.
Her smile strengthens a little, at that. "Then you'd better go get the fucking bastard."