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Chapter Text

It was hot, far too hot and his jacket, vest and long pants only made the situation worse; Harrison Black was not a happy camper. He didn't even know why he'd been shipped off to Washington so precipitously. D.C that is, not that guy or the state. The District Capital of America, filled with politicians and annoying Americans who had no respect for a good cup of English tea. Nowhere in this godforsaken place sold bloody Earl Grey; he'd had to make do with a cup of Darjeeling mix that had tasted like dish soap, which, naturally, only made him crankier.

Harry's long legs crossed the street and past a café that was filled to the brim with the white collar and middle class types, office workers with not enough time, too much money and that irritating habit of feeling entitled to more than they were. His green eyes skated along the window in irritation before landing on a tall, lanky youth with dark hair and eyes who he recognised instantly. The suit and tie were new, but it was the same old Lance Sweets who he'd met during the other man's brief stint as a transfer student in Oxford.

Bored, Harry made a split second decision and pushed open the door, smirking as he came to a rest just in front of his old friend. Sweets looked up obviously expecting someone else and did a double take as he spotted the tall man who occupied his field of vision waiting for acknowledgment. He gaped in shock, taking in the professional tweed suit, tie and vest combination that only a Professor in Oxford could pull of successfully. The fact that this was Harrison Black-Potter only made for a more enjoyable experience; Sweets jumped up and embraced the uptight Englishman enthusiastically, pounding his back as he grinned happily.

"Black!" He grinned broadly. "The hell are you doing here in D.C?"

Harry raised a brow in sardonic amusement. "I'm here on business obviously." He replied in a smooth baritone that had to specifically designed for reciting Shakespeare. Intentionally forgetting to mention that he didn't know what kind of business he was on. MI5 was like that at times. "How long have you been working for the FBI?"

Sweets laughed delightedly. "Can't get anything by you, can I?"

Harry waited, knowing that the question was rhetorical and that his overly excitable friend would get to the point eventually. He wasn't disappointed.

"I've been working with them for three years now; I was hired the moment I finished my second doctorate." Sweets explained, rolling his eyes at Harry's reticence. Harrison Black had been incredibly well known at Oxford for his Holmesian manner and his preternatural ability to know if a person was lying to him, even if he didn't know why. "I'm actually here waiting for two people who I'm studying, they have a very interesting work place manner and it's incredible to watch them work with one another."

"Psychology." Harry noted, feeling movement behind him and he tensed ever so slightly in response. "You always did have all the characteristics of being a professional and caring psychologist, even if it is a soft science."

"Finally! Someone who agrees with me!" A feminine voice exclaimed over the top of Sweets' stuttered reply. Harry looked up at the woman who stood beside him, her red-brown hair tumbled attractively over thin shoulders and her blue-grey eyes were sharp and piecing.

"Attractive and intelligent. A dangerous combination." Harry said as he ran his eyes over the woman's body, reading her body language. "A woman with all the markers of working in a hazardous environment, you show no signs or psychological distress and you carry yourself as if you know how to take care of yourself, and yet, despite all this, your partner is incredibly protective of you."

The woman blinked in surprise and made to comment before the man behind her shoved his way forwards, his dark eyes narrowed in suspicion and his right hand twitched to the gun holstered on his hip. Very protective.

"Booth!" The woman complained while her partner ignored her.

Harry turned to Sweets and smirked, "you're right, they are interesting." He stood, suddenly showing his full height and towering over 'Booth' by three inches, his verdant eyes mocking the other man as he leant backwards to maintain eye contact. "You remind me of a wolf I once saw, standing guard over his pregnant mate; strange correlation isn't it, particularly when you both deny any romantic attachment and yet quite obviously have little in the way of permanent relationship entanglement."

Harry flash a shark toothed smile at Booth who bristled at the implication. 'Bones' from what he could hear from Booth's inaudible mutters, was more intrigued at the commentary than offended. A true scientist who was willing if not truly able to consider all the variables in any given situation. He turned to Sweets and smirked darkly.

"Catch you later Sweeties, try not to blow your house again." Harry chuckled.

Sweets stood and scowled. "It was once!" He protested. "Besides, I wouldn't have known how to make C4 if you hadn't shown me..." He trailed off as he caught sight of Booth's incredulous expression, allowing Harry to slink from the café unserved.

"You blew up a house Sweets?!" Booth was scolding. "With C4?!"

"There were existential..."

The door swung shut and Harry escaped back out into the stifling heat, pleased with his work although he wasn't too happy with the way that Booth had regarded his friend. The older male didn't respect Sweets, probably because of his line of work, which he undoubtably considered not masculine enough and useless. While 'Bones', if that was even her real name, simply didn't like anything that didn't involve cold hard fact. Harry knew that Sweets would find the card he had slipped in Sweets' pocket when he had hugged the man and he was sure that his old friend would would call him when he needed to, Sweets was predictable like that.

* * *

Harry didn't have to wait long for his phone call, and he tugged his Motorola razor from his pocket with a self satisfied smirk even as he pulled his black Aston Martin onto the curb, ignoring the admiring looks he was drawing from the drug addicts and homeless people who populated the area. Green eyes glinted as he took in the 'unknown' caller I.D on his mobile and he flicked the phone open with a snap of his wrist.

"Black."

"It's Sweets. I need help and I know that you're probably on vacation but well..." The psychologist trailed off pathetically, his voice unsure.

"Go on." Harry directed, this wasn't what he had been expecting at all, and frankly it sounded interesting.

"Look, I need you to do me a real big favour. Can you come into the FBI office and talk with Booth's suspect? The guys a suspected serial killer but he won't answer because his lawyer won't allow him to and we need to find his next victim!"

"Of course, give me directions and I'll be there as soon as I can." Harry pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote the directions on the back of his hand, frowning lightly. Serial killers, he hated those, they became predictable after a while, although the cases were usually fun while they lasted.

Grinning, Harry threw the car around and sped away, leaving the 'bad side' of town behind him as he drove to FBI headquarters. It took him less than thirty minutes to arrive and his green eyes took in the wood panelled walls and neutral colours distastefully, offices were all the same. Bland and boring, Harry honestly hated being bored.

Sweets met him on the fifth floor and was nervously bouncing on his toes as he quickly embraced the lanky Brit. Leading the way, Sweets explained the case so far, clearly distressed from the sight of so many victims in one place and Harry, had he not already seen warfare might have been disturbed by the descriptions of each crime scene. The women hadn't died well nor easily from the sounds of things, Harry hardened his heart and smiled tightly at Agent Booth who glared at him in reply.

"That the suspect?" Harry asked as he visually dissected the man behind the one way glass. He wore faded jeans, Biker boots and a ripped muscle shirt, his pale skin was decorate by violent tattoos and scarring; from the pattern of the scarring the man had been violently abused as a child. Booth stood next to Bones, they were both staring at the suspect in anger but only Booth turned around to meet his eyes.

"That's him. Mr. Anderson and his lawyer, Mr. Frederic's." Booth agreed carefully, handing the Englishman an earpiece where he'd update Harry on the places of suspect. "Look, I wouldn't have agreed to this but Sweets recommended you and so you get one chance, okay? Screw this up and a girl could die."

"Wouldn't be the first blood on my hands." Harry muttered without thinking and looked up at Booth, slipping the earpiece in his ear. "Where do you think he's stashed the girl?"

"An abandoned warehouse out in Arlington, a church in Glover Park and a house in Riverwood." Booth sighed. "He puts plastic bags on their heads and with that bank robbery occurring down on fifth we don't have the man power to search them all at once."

Harry's jaw rippled with fury and he nodded. "I'll get you your answer, don't worry." He affirmed, eyes briefly alighting on Bones who was practically pressed against the glass, desperate to save the woman in danger. "You'll save her, both of you." He assured the two partners.

He spun around and strode from the room, his shoulders tight with inner tension, he had the life of an innocent depending on. Booth watched him go, eyes dark with suspicion and fury, his arse would be handed to him if he got this wrong, Sweets too. Harry entered the interrogation room his face perfectly blank as his eyes landed on the suspect and lawyer who watched him curiously.

"You better have this right, Sweets." Booth said calmly returning his gaze to the Englishman who would either make and break the case.

Harry swung himself into the seat, his tweed jacket drawing the brief expression of contempt from the suspect while the lawyer was clearly confused. He pulled out a pile of papers from the inside pocket of his jacket, none of which related to the case and were completely blank but served a purpose.

"Where did he get those?" Booth's voice drifted over the earpiece, clearly confused.

"Mr. Anderson?" Harry drawled in his best American accent, his smooth voice resounding in the small black room. "A pleasure to see you, my name is Mr. Black and I will be interrogating you today."

Mr. Frederic stiffened and his eyes hardened. "Mr. Anderson has been instructed to say nothing to the FBI their interactions with my client so far have been nothing short of abuse."

"Oh, I'm not with the FBI and your client doesn't need to speak, I'll just talk at him. It's no problem." Harry replied lazily, leaning back in his chair. "See the thing is, we all know Mr. Anderson is the serial killer, but the FBI got it wrong, but hey, they're the FBI, they always get things wrong, don't they?"

He smirked at the suspect who flashed a micro expression of amusement and triumph at him and Harry leant forwards, ignoring Agent Booth's derogatory comments that bounced in his ear. "You didn't kill those women because you wanted to; it's all about revenge isn't it? Mummy beat you good when you were a kid, didn't she? Did she hate you? Or just love the bottle more than her worthless kid?"

"He can't say stuff like that to suspects!" Booths angry shout echoed tinnily in Harry's ear along with Sweets' soothing comments that the Brit knew what he was doing.

Harry ignored everything happening in the observation room, more interested in what was happening in front of him. Mr. Anderson's eyebrows had tilted obliquely and a brief expression of rage and sadness had crossed his face momentarily before his became composed once more. His fingers tapped on the table in front of him and his shoulders rolled slightly as he leant backwards. "So what if she did." Anderson spat finally, clearly unable to remain silent any longer.

"It's where you got all those scars right?" Harry jibed cruelly. "You lied your arse off for years, didn't you? Couldn't stomach that a woman could cause you so much pain, so much hurt."

"Shut up! You know nothing!" Anderson shouted, launching himself forwards, his chest hitting the table edge. Anger tainted his expression once more, but this time contempt and scorn followed swiftly after.

"This guys good! He's really getting to him!" Booths voice drifted over the earpiece jubilantly.

"Quiet!" Frederic cautioned, pressing a hand to the suspects shoulder, restraining him. "Don't answer anymore."

Harry smirked. "That why you kill all those girls, Andy?" He mocked, shortening the mans last name, implying a connection and Anderson snarled at him wordlessly. "They made it easy, didn't they? But you never got your Mummy, did you?" Harry scorned and Anderson tried to leap up once more, rage suffusing his face.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" The man chanted angrily, straining against his lawyers restraining hands.

"Kyle! He's trying to make you angry, he wants a confession. Don't give him one!" Frederic cautioned, glaring at Harry caustically, frustration crossing his face.

Harry held up his hands and subsided, relaxing back into his chair once more. "The FBI thinks you've snatched another girl, Andy." Harry commented.

"Finally!" Booth exclaimed triumphantly. "No way this guy won't get the answer."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Anderson shrugged a single shoulder uneasily, watching the inexplicable man carefully.

"Of course not." Harry agreed complacently. "See the FBI thinks that the girls hidden Arlington." Harry paused, watching an expression of scorn cross the mans face swiftly. "But we know that not right, don't we Andy."

Anderson froze quickly before relaxing once again, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. "Doesn't matter to me." He lied, his throat moving convulsively.

"Sure it doesn't, Andy," Harry replied smirking. "See I've got a friend that says Riverwood would be the best place to hide a girl, in your house." Anderson's mouth twitched as if in pleasure before he schooled his expression once more. "But I say Glover Park, because it's a church, and you want your dear old Mummy to see what you've done, don't you Andy. Want her to see what she went and did wrong, didn't you?"

Anderson's face whitened in fear and anger flashed across his face before he looked towards the ceiling not replying.

"That's it!" Harry shouted suddenly, cutting across the silence and startling Frederic's from the volume. "The girls in the church basement at Glover Park!"

"You sure there, Black?" Booth asked tensely.

"Yes, go, go now!" Harry shouted while Booth started shouting orders and footsteps echoed outside. Harry turned to grin at the suspect. "Game over Andy, you lose."

"What?" Frederic gaped. "But how can you be sure, he didn't say anything?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked scornfully. "He just told me."

Harry swept from the room triumphantly and bumped into Sweets outside and smirked at him. "So, what do you think?"

"How did you know Anderson was abused?" Sweets asked cautiously.

Harry shrugged. "Because I have a similar pattern of scarring on my own back and shoulders. It comes from a belt or cane."

Sweets sighed heavily and clapped Harry on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Harry frowned. "Why, you didn't do it." He shook his head in amusement. "So, where to now?"

"Booth and Brennan often go to this really good Chinese restaurant?" Sweets offered casually. "I can introduce you to Angela, Hodgins and Cam while we wait for Booth and Brennan."

Harry shrugged. "Why not?" He smirked.

Sweets rolled his eyes and guided his friend from the office, ignoring the curious eyes that followed them as he pulled out his cell phone and dialled up Cam. Harry led Sweets to his car and swung into the drivers seat, listening half-heartedly to the younger mans brief conversation with his colleague.

"We all good?" Harry asked as he pulled out from the parking lot.

"Yep, we're on." Sweets grinned and began to direct the other man towards the restaurant. "So, how do you like America?"
O
Harry snorted in amusement and flicked on the indicator. "It's large."

"It is at that." Sweets nodded in agreement.

* * *

The Chinese place was decent, Harry decided as he sat beside Sweets in the booth and listened to his friend explain some new experiment that had shown the problems in diagnosing some mental disease and wasn't viable in Sweets' opinion. Harry smirked and leant backwards, Sweets hadn't changed at all in the time he'd known him. He was still cheerful and full of optimism, expecting the best out of everyone and that everything could be solved with the proper application of kindness and compassion. It was admirable.

Sweets looked up as the front door opened again and the Jeffersonian team entered establishment, spotting Sweets and his guest immediately. Angela bounced over, smiling broadly as she raked Harry's casual attire hungrily. It had taken Sweets nearly an hour to convince Harry to change his clothing but when he had capitulated, Sweets had understood straight away, why his friend had previously declined. Harry's forearms were covered in pale scars while the corded muscles running beneath the skin were an uninhibited view. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him.

Which, for the perky forensic artist, was a bonus in her book. Her dark pencil skirt flattered her curves while her red silk shirt clung to her body in all the right places. Thick brown hair tumbled down her narrow shoulders and dark slanted eyes smiled above a bow-like mouth that curved in appreciation of Sweets' table mate. Cam watched her colleague in amusement her white shirt complimenting her darker skin tone while her dark slacks hugged her figure perfectly.

Both women drew the appreciative gazes of most of the men in the room while Hodgins, a man with blue eyes and tightly curled blonde hair wore jeans and a green button down shirt under a black leather jacket. Angela and Cam swung into the booth cheerfully greeting Sweets and being introduced to Harrison Black by Sweets while Hosgins shook his head in sudden realisation. He paused briefly before seating himself and smiling enigmatically at the Englishman.

"So, you're that Harrison Black." Hodgins noted, his tone one of irreverent awe.

Harry blinked and flicked his eyes over the other mans features and pinched the bridge of his nose in understanding. "You're Jack Hosgins. Right, the..."

"Disappointment." Jack agreed.

Harry sighed and wondered at his luck of finding a paranoid Squib son of the most important American wizarding family in the US. Clearly the old Potter luck was running strong.

"Wait, you know each other?" Angela asked, stunned.

Jack cocked his head at Harry who shook his head slightly in return. "No. We know of each other." Jack explained quickly, smiling at his ex. "But not each other personally."

Harry smirked and raised an eyebrow. "You sound disappointed Doctor Hodgins."

"Ew. No." Hodgins rolled his eyes. "Apparently those rumours aren't exaggerated."

At Angela's enquiring expression, Harry expounded: "I don't discriminate when it comes to sex; or gender rather."

Angela widened her eyes in understanding and exchanged a glance with Cam who had her brows raised in surprise. "Isn't that interesting?"

"Clearly Harry is more evolved than the average human being." Brennan's voice drifted over the group and she slid into the seat next to Jack. "Eventually when humans get over their fear of difference all humans will undoubtably become more free in their sexual preferences."

Harry smirked and tilted his glass at Brennan and ignored Booth's dark glare as the man sat beside him. "How perceptive of you Doctor. Brennan, wasn't it?" He inquired.

"Temperance Brennan." She agreed, tilting her russet head sideways to inspect the Brit carefully. "You have an interesting bone structure."

Harry's smirk widened slightly and his eyes gleamed. "Do you always use your intelligence to intimidate people who you are attracted to?"

Brennan blinked. "You can read micro expressions, that's how you made the suspect confess." She said, avoiding the conversation topic and Angela and Cam hid their smiles behind their glasses and Sweets watched Booth's growing ire.

"I didn't make anyone confess." Harry replied and licked his lips obviously, drawing Brennan's gaze and her face flushed lightly. "How does it make you feel that I know everything you are thinking?" He asked smirking.

"That's impossible." Brennan replied and Hodgins bit back a laugh at her offended expression. Black was highly amusing.

"Not as much as you would like." Harry said and then abruptly switched topics. "So, Booth, why did you retire from the Army rangers?"

Booth froze. "Huh?"

"The army, in your own words, why did you quit?" Harry asked, leaning backwards and watching the other man carefully, he loved riling people up, particularly people like this uptight and all American man. It was almost too easy.

Booth drew himself up, falling into a very classical military pose and unconsciously, Harry mimicked him, his smile freezing over as they surveyed each other. "I didn't quit. You don't quit the army." Booth ground out, narrowing his eyes.

"Huh." Harry cocked his head, smirking. "That so."

"Yeah, that's so." Booth replied aggressively, jutting his chin out at the other man.

"This is very fascinating." Brennan observed. "Anthropologically speaking-"

"Enough Bones, Black and I are having a discussion." Booth snapped, cutting his hand in front of Brennan's face. Brennan recoiled, confusion and hurt on her face.

"You just upset your woman, Booth, no real man does that." Harry smirked and winked at Brennan. "You ever get sick of your all American boy-toy, you come and look me up."

Booth's jaw rippled and Harry watched his work play out, smirking all the while. "We're not going out, Bones is my partner and friend, nothing more."

"And doesn't that just make you burn." Harry breathed his eyes gleaming as he leaned into Booth's personal space, causing Booth to lean back in order to preserve his masculinity. Harry snorted suddenly and rolled his eyes. "You know, Sweeties, Boothie here isn't too much fun for me; he makes it too easy."

"Too easy?" Booth asked, off kilter. "What the hell is going on?"

Sweets rubbed his eyes and attempted a small smile. "Harry can read body language like no one else you've seen. Doctor Brennan talks about Booth's abilities but Booth has nothing on Harry. He made a game on reading peoples facial expressions and pushing all their buttons as hard as he could during Uni. It nearly got him expelled."

"And then he watches their reactions and he studies them." Brennan finished disapprovingly. She turned to Harry who was smirking at the incredulous and angry Booth who looked close to punching that smug aristocratic face. "What have you concluded from your observations?"

"That you and Agent Booth would make terrible sexual partners." Harry smirked, his eyes gleaming.

"What?" Brennan protested. "I don't see how. We work extremely well together."

"Precisely." Booth agreed, his eyes flicking between Harry and Brennan carefully, picking his way delicately through a verbal minefield. "I mean, it's just that we choose not to, you know." Booth shrugged with studied indifference, avoiding Brennan's eyes.

Brennan nodded rapidly. "Exactly. So don't say things like that."

Harry made an exaggerated 'ah' motion with his mouth and shrugged with studied exaggeration, mocking the pairs delicacy. "I see. So either Doctor Brennan has no desire for Agent Booth or Agent Booth has no desire for Doctor Brennan..." He trailed off, watching the duo with careful consideration.

Angela watched the Brit with increasing ire, how dare he manipulate Brennan and Booth like he was and she made to speak but a brief touch on her arm stilled her and Sweets cut a quick look in her direction and nodded at the crime fighting pair with concealed triumph. Jack and Cam watched Harry Black manoeuvre Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan into admitting their feelings for each other with increasing admiration. The deliberate picking and prodding from earlier had left both Booth and Brennan off kilter and unsuspecting of Harry's designs.

Anyone who had spent three seconds in Booth and Brennan's company could see that they were both well suited for the other. Harry's designs were obvious to their friends but for the duo in question, because they were already so emotional, it was completely missed. Sweets silently tipped a metaphorical hat to his old friend and found a devious smile spread his lip as he watched the unfolding events with great enthusiasm.

"What? No!" Booth was protesting. "I find Bones very beautiful!"

Harry raised his brows as if in doubt.

"I do. She's amazing. Intelligent, beautiful, funny, and everything I'd look for in a woman." Booth said without thinking, and Brennan stared at him with an odd emotion in her eyes, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Then why haven't you asked her out?" Harry asked with studied indifference, picking up his glass and inspecting it, skating his eyes towards Angela who was watching them with awe and rising excitement. "She not good enough for you?"

"What?" Booth asked shocked. "No of course not! She's Bones! Bones is perfect!"

Brennan's mouth was pressed thin, fighting against her impulse to blurt out her reaction, her every muscle knotted and tense as she listened Harrison Black trick her partner into spilling his every thought. Thoughts she'd heard before but hadn't taken seriously, after all, this was Booth, her partner.

"Then it must be Doctor Brennan who doesn't find you attractive, after all, you clearly sound like you like Bones." Harry said while watching Brennan very carefully for a reaction, and a reaction he certainly received.

"Don't!" Brennan blurted, her blue-grey eyes flashing. "Don't call me Bones." She subsided and skated her eyes over Booth's surprised expression.

"Why not? It's your nickname, isn't it?" Harry pressed.

Brennan shook her head violently, her red-brown hair falling around her face to hide her expression. Booth looked hurt at Brennan's denial and he settled back his eyes dulling.

"It's not?" Harry inquired with apparent carelessness. "Then why does Booth call you Bones and you don't protest?"

"It is." Brennan said softly, lifting her face to glare into Harry's malachite eyes. "But only Booth can call me Bones. Only Booth."

Booth grinned at the admission and he swelled with pleasure. "Well yeah, I am her best friend."

"One of them." Brennan qualified quickly shooting a swift glance at Angela who was looking decidedly smug. "Angela's my best friend too. But you're my partner." She smiled at Booth, her mouth stretching wide in a beautiful grin.

"Your only partner." Booth grinned.

"Of course." Brennan agreed, pleased.

"So you're best friends and you're work partners, seems to me, that everything is settled now." Harry said cheerfully and then grinned blindingly, raising his glass in a mocking toast to Brennan and Booth.

"Wait, that's it?" Booth asked, stunned.

Angela and Cam felt their insides deflate while Hodgins grinned broadly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sweets winked at the bug-man and ensured that he had a very straightforward view of Brennan, tipping the other man off on Harry's basic plan. Hodgins smirked and mimicked Sweets, pulling Cam against him and tilting his head towards Brennan, ensuring that Cam understood. Cam grinned suddenly and did the same for Angela and Harry was hard pressed not to smirk victoriously at the sight.

"Yeah that's it." Harry said nonchalantly. "Clearly I was wrong. It's not a lack of attraction nor an imbalanced relationship; it's a lack of courage Agent Booth. You're both so scared of the possible repercussions that you'll never give anything a go. I can't do anything for that, you're both better off going back to your meaningless sex and boring relationships. You're both too cowardly to act on your feelings."

Booth stiffened angrily, his dark eyes flashing while Brennan straightened in indignation.

"Booth isn't a coward!" She protested.

"Exactly!" Booth agreed.

Harry smirked and leant forwards. "Prove it."

Booth froze, understanding what Harrison Black was forcing him to commit to, he slid his eyes to Brennan and eyed those red lips and felt the usual stirring in the pit of his stomach at the sight. It would be so easy to lean across the table and capture them. He'd already tasted them once and he remembered the moment far too fondly. Should he take that leap of faith and act upon his selfish desires?

"See, told you, coward." Harry said derisively, cutting through the fog of Booth's circulating thoughts. "Can't act like a man, he's no soldier no more, he's not even a man. Got himself emasculated he did." Harry drawled arrogantly to Hodgins who couldn't help but snort at the idea of Booth being emasculated. Booth was the man's man, he was a hero and a man that Hodgins deeply respected.

But it had been the snort that Harry had wanted and like a firecracker to the backside, Hodgins' snort drove Booth to action.

Booth launched himself forwards and caught the back of Brennan's head, gently cradling the silky soft strands in his hand and ignoring the way the edge of the table pressed into his stomach and brushed his lips against the stunned scientists. It was a barely there touch but then Brennan moved and caught Booth's harder, opening her lips and drawing him into a battle of tongues. Beside them Harry stood and took a bow as Hodgins clapped in appreciation for his manoeuvring and manipulation. Angela and Cam watched Brennan and Booth's kiss with open mouths, the passion and desire in their every movement was mind blowing while Sweets felt his stomach do odd flip-flops at the sight of Harry's triumphant grin.

To Booth, their relationship had always been like fire and ice; like Robert Frost's poem. Whenever he saw Bones he felt a a raging hot inferno of desire for that bright, beautiful woman who so consumed him and his every waking thought. But then this passion for the brilliant scientist was tempered by the cool soothing comfort of ice that was their professionally dictated working relationship, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bones could be trusted more than he had ever trusted anyone else. It was this trust that had so stayed his hand, no matter what Harrison Black had said but the ice was melting away now and the fires of his heart had been stoked to a raging storm by the tender passion of their kiss.

Now Booth felt like he was burning, the feeling of flames crackling across his tender and sensitive skin while the scorched feeling of his lungs only allowed for a momentary loss of contact to drag a breath of air in. No one, not Rebecca, not Camille, no one, had ever made him feel this way and Booth felt close to exploding as he dragged Bones closer to him, and without thought pulled the slightly smaller woman onto his lap and cradled her close to him. He slid on hand down her back to rest on her hip and he gripped her tightly; he had Bones, the woman of his dreams in his lap, no way in hell was he ever letting her go again. He couldn't accept such a thing, he could understand now just how much he needed her, could see just how much she meant to him and just how much he desired her above all others. No one else could compare.

Brennan was the first to pull away, her eyes dilated with desire and she inspected Booth's kiss swollen lips with smug feminine pride. She had done that, she wasn't a scientist here, she was the woman who had inspired an incredible act of desire and passion from the usually unflappable Seeley Booth and she was filled with justifiable pride. Booth grinned at her, his lop-sided smile that she found so charming sent a pleasurable jolt to the base of her spine and she found herself returning the brilliant grin with one of her own.

"That was so incredibly hot." Angela breathed, and an agreeing hum from Cam brought Booth abruptly back to earth and he realised with a certain amount of shock that Brennan was in his lap and looking ridiculously pleased with herself. "If you ever want a third..."

Harry choked at the thought and smirked at Angela cheekily. "Let them have their 'two' now, after all, they're newly minted."

Hodgins laughed. "Harry 'Hook-Up' Potter, I thought they were joking." He shook his head in disbelief and shot the green eyed man a brilliant grin. "Excellent work my friend."

"Of course it was. I am brilliant." Harry said without any modesty.

Hodgins laughed again and Angela tilted her head to the side, revelling in the sound that had become so rare over the past few months. Jack's blue eyes sparkled with challenge as the table watched the latest confrontation while ignoring the soft whispers from Booth and Brennan who were clearly discussing the recent revelations between them. Harry leant back again, apparently at ease while a certain guardedness tainted his impossibly green eyes.

"What else have you heard about me?" Harry asked nonchalantly, raising a brow.

Hodgins mimicked the other males posture, returning the smirk that Harry directed at him. "Nothing much, just that if my family owns America, yours owns Europe."

Angela felt her mouth drop open in shock while Cam's eyes widened in surprise. Sweets shrugged at the revelation, clearly unimpressed. Hodgins narrowed his blue gaze and inspected the studied blandness of Harry's face and found himself dissatisfied by the mans reaction.

"Family business, Hodgins, I'm sure I don't need to expound upon the details." Harry said warningly, cutting across the rest of Hodgins' big reveal.

Sweets blinked in shock, Harry never took such a tone with anyone. It was highly irregular. "Harry?"

Harry turned to his friend and gave a lop-sided grin. "No worries Sweeties." He winked.

"Okay, that's the second time you've called Sweets that, can we ask why?" Booth asked, apparently back on earth after his trip around several other galaxies if his dazed expression was anything to go by.

"We went to Oxford together." Harry explained. "And Sweets here was very fond if his English sweeties, weren't you darling?"

Sweets turned bright red and avoided his colleagues amused eyes. "English wine gums.." He trailed off.

"Oh! I completely understand." Brennan grinned. "I love English hard boiled candy."

"Sweets." Harry interjected drawing the bemused gaze of his friend. "Not you, stupid face. English confectionary is called sweets not candy."

"Is there a difference?" Booth asked.

Hodgins shook his head. "No."

"That's not the point!" Harry stated firmly, pointing his finger at the curly haired Squib.

Hodgins grinned. "I think it is."

"Shut up, Whiskey!" Harry barked.

"Whiskey?" Booth asked, the term tickling his memory.

Hodgins felt his face whiten in shock. "Nothing, I like drinking whiskey occasionally."

Angela frowned. "Really, I thought you hated it. Whiskey and scotch, I'm sure you said you hated both drinks and much preferred beer."

Harry groaned and tilted his head back. "Look, no offence Hodgins, but stick to your day job."

"Not everyone's like you, Black." Hodgins replied caustically.

"How much do you you know about me?" Harry asked interestedly.

"Pretty much all of it, I think." Hodgins murmured. "My paranoid cousin ran your file, he's pretty high up and he considered you a threat for a friend of his on the other side of the pond."

"That's illegal." Harry muttered darkly. "Would you object to me paying this cousin of yours a visit?"

"No. And no one else, to my knowledge, knows about that file, as you said, it's illegal and classified." Hodgins said. "I only know because I hacked his computer. His security was shit."

Harry bared his teeth and nodded, subsiding once more.

"The hell?" Angela asked looking between her ex and the Brit. "What are you two on about?"

"I run a fairly famous company in England and Hosgins' cousin thought I might go into politics and so in order to dig up dirt on me they ran my background. Suffice to say that there are quite a few things that I would prefer to remain discreet." Harry said nonchalantly, draining his drink in one pull.

"What kind of things?" Booth asked cautiously.

"Nothing illegal." Harry replied darkly, slanting his eyes towards the FBI agent. "It has things to do with young Michael India the fifth."

Booth frowned before his eyes widened in shock. "You know Mike India?" He asked incredulously, running his eyes over the slight body of the young man beside him.

"Yeah." Harry agreed. "Small world, huh?"

"Very." Booth agreed, still stunned.

"Who is Michael India?" Brennan asked confusedly as she slipped back into her seat, having finally vacated Booth's lap. "Why is he significant?"

"No reason." Booth answered and then grinned at Harry cheerfully. "I always knew you were an alright bloke."

"I don't understand." Brennan said looking between Booth and Black.

"I don't think anyone does, sweetie." Angela said looking completely bewildered. "Hodgins?"

"Sorry." Hodgins denied, although what he was denying Angela couldn't be certain.

"Sweets?" Cam asked the resident psychologist.

Sweets shook his head and avoided her gaze. They both clearly understood, they just refused to answer; the question was why.

Chapter Text

Harrison dozed on a park bench, his head tilted back as he basked in the hot summer sun; the cerulean sky stretching for miles above his head and a slight breeze played with the slightly too long strands of his coarse black hair. A genuine smile stretched his lips and Harry looked to be more at peace with the world than Sweets had ever seen him, his ego taking a blow when he heard the barely audible appreciative noises that Daisy Wicks, his girlfriend made upon sighting the taller and undeniably handsome older man.

"Black!" Sweets hailed as he crossed the green space, his movements an odd sort of half-run catching the bemused attention of Harry who's eyes widened in pleasure when he caught sight of his friend.

Harry stood with liquid movements, stretching like a cat and rolling his shoulders, a lazy smirk on his thin lips. "Sweeties." He greeted, voice slightly hoarse from disuse. "The bloody hell are you doing here?"

Sweets grinned. "Lunch with Daisy Wicks." He gestured to the short perky young woman who wore a black pencil skirt and collared blue blouse, standing nervously behind him. "My girlfriend."

"Aw Sweeties, are you old enough for a girl?" Harry teased, his green eyes shining with genuine pleasure. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss. Wicks." He greeted in his English accented baritone, sending a second appreciative shiver down Daisy's spine. "Sweets treat you alright?"

Daisy nodded fervently. "He's a perfect gentleman." She assured breathlessly.

"Good. Means I had a positive influence on him." Harry grinned briefly, his eyes scanning the park. "My partner should be around here somewhere, I'm meeting up with her to discuss work."

Sweets paled slightly. "Ginevra?" He asked nervously.

Harry smirked wickedly. "You know it Sweeties."

"Ginevra?" Daisy asked.

"An ex." Sweets and Harry chorused.

"She's married now, you know." Harry added, toying with a pen he'd pulled from his pocket, eyes focusing on the opposite side of the park land. A woman with brilliantly red hair was making her way across the green, she appeared to be tall and professionally dressed; rather like Harrison, who wore his scholars outfit of a tweed jacket and black slacks with a black waist coat and white button-down shirt. "Here she comes now." He noted.

"Married, to who?" Sweets asked.

"Whom." Daisy corrected automatically and then flinched as brilliant malachite eyes pierced her with amusement.

"Indeed." Harry murmured, sliding his eyes over to his flame haired partner who was almost within shouting distance now. "Dean Thomas, I believe. We've been out of touch and I'm afraid I missed the wedding.."

Sweets gulped audibly and scooped up Daisy's hand and clung to it, clearly frightened. "Not good, Harrison."

"Tell me about it." Harry agreed, exasperated. "I just know I'm going to be-"

"HARRISON JAMES POTTER!!!" The young woman roared, her hazel eyes flashing at her green eyed and nonchalant friend.

"Yelled at." Harry finished tiredly to Sweets who chuckled nervously. "That's Harrison James Black Potter to you, Miss. Weasley." Harry told the redhead, who scowled darkly in reply.

"No note, car gone! You could've been killed!" Ginevra shouted, smoothing her green shirt that she wore over a black pencil skirt while a black handbag hung from her shoulder. She looked gorgeous and Daisy felt a sudden sense of inadequacy while Harry merely smiled charmingly and held open his hands as if to say 'what can I do?'. Sweets groaned.

"Sweets!" Ginevra exclaimed, noticing Harry's companions. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in ages! And who's this? She's beautiful!" Ginevra hugged the FBI psychologist and his girlfriend, kissing their cheeks. "It's so good to see you again. We've all missed you back home, you haven't visited in years."

Daisy blinked, flustered while Sweets chuckled, feeling the all too familiar tightening in the pit of his stomach at the sound of Ginny's melodic voice and beautiful hazel eyes.

"Ginny, a pleasure as always." Sweets replied, bowing slightly as he had been taught during his time at Oxford with Harrison and Draco. "I've been well, and yourself?"

"Fabulous, darling." Ginny grinned sunnily, her eyes dancing. "Check this out." She held up her left hand and flashed the very large double gold band and diamond ring set. Harry had clearly gotten Ginevra's marital status correct then, Sweets noted.

"Lovely, who did you marry?" Sweets asked, feeling a vague stirring of jealousy.

Ginny rolled her eyes and pointed at Harry with great exasperation. "Not this idiot, let me tell you. Married to his work he says, the idiots given up all sex. It's unhealthy, I tell you. No, I married Blaise Zabini, the Italian stallion." Ginny gave a wicked smirk and Harry rolled his eyes in reply.

"I can see Ronald jumping for joy at that." Sweets couldn't help but smirk.

Ginevra laughed delightedly and conspiratorially leant in to Daisy who felt out of her depth in this situation. "Ronald, my brother, is very protective of me, not that it matters as he went and married Hannah Abbot."

"Hannah?" Harry asked in confusion. "I thought he loved Hermione?"

"You're really are an idiot, Harry James. Hermione broke up with him, she's also gone and given up sexual relationships too, focusing on her career instead. Although I heard that Denis Creevey has totally got the hots for her. He keeps dropping in with flowers and cards, it's very sweet." Ginny informed her green eyed friend. "So Sweets, who's your doll?" She grinned salaciously at American.

"Ah.. This is Daisy Wick, my girlfriend." Sweets answered, feeling off kilter. Ginny should never say doll again in a fake American accent, it was too disturbing.

"Ooh!" Ginny redoubled her enthusiasm. "You live around here don't you? I'm only here for a couple days but can you take me shopping?" She begged, her hazel eyes pleading. "I've never been shopping in an American shopping centre before and if it's anything like Stratford in London, the shops are bound to be brilliant!"

Harry smirked lazily as Daisy found herself agreeing with the crazy redheads plan. He exchanged an amused glance with Sweets who watched the exchange with bemusement, clearly not expecting their good rapport. Although neither man was complaining, cat fights weren't fun to break up and Ginny would probably end up killing Daisy who was very slight and delicate. Harry snorted at the idea.

"You have my file?" He asked, breaking up the cheerful chatter, his malachite eyes unusually serious.

Ginevra rolled her eyes in distaste at Harrison's poor manners. "Yes, Mer- Heavens, but you need to take a leaf out of Draco's book and actually learn some manners, Black." She exchanged an exasperated glance with Daisy who was trying to hide a grin.

Ginny opened her handbag and pulled a thick envelope from her bag, a red stamp on the cover labelling it as 'Mike India 5: Charlie'. Sweets smirked and raise a brow at Harry who ignored him pointedly. Harry was not going to tell Lance Sweets about his classified dealings with MI5 and risk his damn job nor his operation for the FBI psychologists curiosity. He peaked inside and nodded sharply to Ginny who smiled thinly.

"Everything's there, Harry." Ginevra said calmly, and then pointed at him, fixing the man in place. "I've read your record, don't cock this one up."

Harry sneered at her, tilting his head haughtily and straightening his shoulders. "I didn't cock anything up, Ginevra, it was all Keenan's fault."

"Keenan?" Sweets asked, confused. He knew a Mike Keenan, but the chances of an American serial bank robber messing up an MI5 operation were astronomically unlikely...

"No one you know." Harry dismissed, waving a hand. He returned his gaze to Ginny who looked unimpressed. "I'm not going to screw this up, Gin-Gin. You know me better than that." He smirked cockily.

Ginny rolled her eyes and huffed. "Shut up, Potter. Black, sorry." Harry smirked, knowing how his name change infuriated more than just Ginny and Hermione's sensibilities. "Look just go; get it done before our client becomes too impatient."

"Consider it done, Ma'am." He bowed slightly. "A pleasure to see you both," Harry nodded to both Daisy and Lance with a small smile and stalked off, clutching his envelope in his hand.

Ginevra watched him go, tracing his path with saddened eyes, as if she was bidding him goodbye for the last time and Sweets felt uneasy about the case Harry had just been assigned, surely MI5 wouldn't send his friend on a mission that was truly dangerous or hopeless; would they?

Daisy looked between her boyfriend and her new friend and noting their expressions made up her mind. Smiling happily and bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly, Daisy tugged on Lance's hand, drawing his attention. "So, who's hungry?" She asked.

Ginevra smiled at them and bowed out of the invitation, no matter how much Daisy begged. Lance watched them discuss their shopping date while trying to ignore the sudden hollowness that their group had. The empty spot that Harry had occupied felt cold and ominous and Sweets found a premonitory chill run down his spine. Nothing would happen to Harry, Lance decided, he was being foolish. Completely foolish.

He smiled and laughed as Ginevra left the area and Daisy dragged him off to lunch, and as he clung to his beloved girlfriends hand he wondered what sort of condition Harry would be in this time. Whether he would black and blue and bloodied or if he would be still whole and living; and not for the first time, Lance felt a pang of fear before shoving the feeling down and focusing entirely on his girlfriends sunny smile. Ignoring the darkening clouds and lengthening shadows that only seemed to emphasise the increasing feeling of ominous foreboding brewing around him.

* * *

Lance's cell phone rang in the middle of his meeting with Brennan and Booth pausing the pair's talk briefly, he checked the I.D. It was blocked and unknown, without thinking, he flipped open the front and answered the call. It was a very brief conversation and as he snapped the top shut, he met Booth's worried eyes. He tapped his knee three times in rapid succession and stood, Booth mimicking his actions in concern.

"We'll have to cut today's session short. I apologise but something has just come up." Sweets excused himself, snatching up his car keys and sliding his cell into his pocket while shrugging on his suit jacket and dashing from the office. Leaving Booth and Brennan gaping behind him in confusion.

"What was that all about?" Brennan asked, frowning.

Booth shrugged and, holding the door open, followed Brennan from the psychiatrists office and into the hall. "I have no idea, Bones, but it looked pretty important."

Brennan nodded in a preoccupied manner as she pressed the button to call the lifts. "I hope he's okay." She murmured.

Booth raised his brows in surprise, 'hope' was something he hadn't expected her to express despite the fact that he heartily concurred with the sentiment. "I'm sure he is." He smiled, bolstering her sinking spirits causing her to smile brilliantly at him. "So, dinner tonight, my place?" He asked.

Brennan laughed and agreed.

It took Sweets half an hour to get to the local hospital, the busy emergency entrance hindering his hurried path to the reception area and had he not worked regularly with Booth and Brennan, he might have been gagging at the stench of burning meat and disease. It wasn't a pleasant experience but not nearly as awful as staring into the charcoals sockets of an explosion victim or the slowly decomposing remains of someone who had been buried for three months. As it was he drew strange looks as he crossed immediately to the desk looking unconcerned by the sights of the dead and dying of a truly horrible collision with a bus and semi-trailer truck; the receptionist watching him with surprise as he asked after a Mr. Harry Black found in Virginia and flown in for treatment for a shattered femur and severe concussion and bruising to seventy-five percent of his body.

The hospital room was silent and Lance felt distinctly out of place as he crept over to Harry's bed and stared at his friends prone form. Checking the vitals and medical information, Sweets decided that there was a reason why he'd never received his M.D, and that he'd have Brennan look at it later on. Lance flopped tiredly into a chair and closed his eyes briefly, silently begging anyone who was listening to give his friend a reprieve. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered at the unfairness of the world where people were killed when they'd just had a break through and good men were nearly killed working for the 'good guys'.

Sweets must have dozed off because what felt like a short time later, he awoke to a buzzing sound in his pocket and he pulled out his cell phone to stare at the I.D that lit up the L.E.D screen. Booth. Sighing heavily, Lance answered the call, staring at Harry's prone form, the pale aristocratic face hadn't been cleaned and bore the residue of an explosion and dried blood. He looked peaceful for all that he lay in a hospital, the white sheets only increasing his pallor and the dark curdles around his eyes. Harrison looked so tired and worn, far more so than his age would make you think.

"Lance Sweets."

"Sweets, where are you?" Booth demanded worriedly. "We haven't seen you all day!"

"In the hospital." Sweets answered unthinkingly.

"Hospital?!" Booth practically shouted, and Brennan's voice could be heard on the other end demanding answers. "What do you mean a hospital?"

Sweets groaned as he sat up in a more upright position, feeling his back protest the movement loudly. "Harry's been blown up. I was his emergency contact apparently. I've been sitting here waiting for him to wake up."

"Oh good!" Booth breathed. "Well, not good, just as long as it's not you." Booths voice disappeared from the receiver and Sweets could hear the FBI agent assuring their mutual friends that he was safe and sound and that it was just Harry who was injured. Sweets felt slightly offended by that distinction and almost switched his cell off.

"So, which Hospital is it?" Booth asked.

Sweets shrugged, not realising that Booth couldn't see his shrug over the phone. He was more worried about Harry than dealing with cranky scientists and FBI agents. Surely the older man would wake soon, surely?

"Sweets, you there buddy?" Booth asked.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm here." Sweets nodded.

"Then what hospital are you at?"

"St. Johns." Sweets replied tiredly. "Why?"

A click sounded and Sweets was left standing with a dead cell phone in his hand. Uncomprehendingly.

An hour later Sweets sat up sniffing the air, detecting the delicious smell of cheese pizzas that preceded the compact form of Jack Hodgins and Seeley Booth into the small hospital room. Harry had been moved to a private room after Sweets had demanded it, too worried about his friend to want to deal with the coming and going of nurses, doctors, patients and relatives. It was much more peaceful here, and the room didn't seem quite as intimidating now.

"Sweets, man, how are you?" Hodgins asked seriously, staring at the psychologist and noting the dark bruises beneath his red-rimmed eyes and pale, strained face.

Lance shrugged and gestured at Harry who lay on the white hospital sheets unmoving but for the steady rise and fall of his chest. "He's not getting better." Sweets' voice was small and shaky, his eyes barely leaving the prone form of Black.

"Oh sweetie!" Angela breathed, having walked into the room to hear Sweets' sad announcement and she rushed over to the young man and embraced him tightly. "He'll get better."

"Yeah, I mean, he's Potter, not even a nuclear strike could kill him." Hodgins bolstered encouragingly, clapping Sweets on his shoulder.

"That's actually impossible. . ." Brennan said only to trail off at Booth's incredulous stare. "Oh, you didn't mean literally."

"No. They didn't." A painful voice rasped from the bed, and hazy green eyes watched the gathering in amusement.

"Harry!" Sweets gaped, a grin splitting his face in half as he practically threw himself at the bed, embracing his friend tightly. Harry let out a pained groan, his voice rasping like a dying mans last gasp.

"Sweeties, my bestest loveliest friend. . ." Harry moaned breathily. "Get the fuck off of me."

"Right, yes! Sorry!" Sweets panicked slightly, patting at his heavily bruised friend.

"No really," Harry gasped. "No touchie!"

Booth chuckled darkly, remembering his on time in Hospital after being shot or tortured. It wasn't fun.