A/N: The dialogue in this is from the film, 'It Happened One Night' starring Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert. The movie is from 1934, and some of the dialogue doesn't match Bones Canon, but I've wanted to see them do this scene for so long, that I'm glad I finally get to do it. And if you're wondering why I've chosen this movie, first of all it's my absolute favorite ever, and David Boreanaz mentioned in an interview early in the season that he wanted to do something a la 'It Happened One Night'. With that, on with the show.

Booth and Brennan walked through the woods in the dark, having moved away from the roadside. They needed to keep their anonymity and that horrid man who'd spent the last several hours hitting on Temperance had almost ruined everything. Neither said a word as they moved along. They concentrated more on avoiding low slung tree branches and bushes in their path.

"Poor old Shapely. You shouldn't have frightened him like that," Brennan smirked, remembering the way Booth had threatened the obnoxious man.

"At the rate he's going, he's probably passed two state lines by this time. The exercise will be good for him."

"Yeah, I noticed he was getting a little fat," Brennan laughed, then stumbled as she lost her footing. She twisted her ankle and landed hard on the ground. "Ouch."

"What's the matter?" Booth stopped moving and squatted down to look at her ankle. She shooed him away and massaged the sore spot.

"I was never built for these midnight strolls. Why'd we have to leave the bus?"

"I don't trust that chatterbox." Booth helped Temperance to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to give her extra support as they continued on their way. "The first town we hit you better wire your father." Brennan looked at him incredulously.

"Not as long as I'm alive." They stopped moving as they came to the rushing water of a creek. Booth looked at it, knowing that there was no way Brennan could cross with her ankle twisted the way it had been.

"Okay with me if you can stand the starvation diet." He bent down and pulled off his shoes. Brennan arched an eyebrow as she sat down on the creek bank.

"What do you mean starvation?"

"It takes money to buy food."

Why, haven't you…"

"Not a sou. I had some before the fainting scene."

"You didn't give that boy all your money?" On the Greyhound bus, a woman had passed out from lack of food. She and her son had not eaten since the day before. Brennan had grabbed the money Booth had in his hand and given it to the boy, telling him not to tell his mom where he'd gotten it.

"I didn't give him anything. You were the big-hearted gal. How about wiring your father now?"

"Never! I'll get to New York if I have to starve all the way."

Sighing, Booth pulled off his socks and stuffed them in his shoes. He rolled up his trousers and picked up the shoes, tying the laces together as he stood. "Must be some strange power Sully has over you women. How do you expect to get there?"

"To New York?"


"I'm following you." Booth stuck his toe in the water and shivered. Damn, it's really cold.

"Aren't you afraid of me," Booth grinned, knowing full well that she could beat the snot out of him if she were of the mindset.


"Okay, hold onto these." He pulled Brennan to her feet and handed her his shoes. As she took them, he flung her over one shoulder, gripping her legs tightly with one arm, and picking up a suitcase with the other. He began to ford the stream, intensely aware of the shoes in Brennan's hands hitting his backside with each step.

"I wish you'd stop being so playful."

"Sorry." She held the shoes out a little farther, and sighed. "It's the first time I've ridden 'piggy-back' in years."

"This isn't 'piggy-back'."

"Of course it is."

"You're crazy."

"I remember distinctly my father taking me for a piggy-back ride…"

"And he carried you like this I suppose?"


"Your father didn't know beans about piggy-backing." Brennan glared at him, though she knew Booth couldn't see her disgruntled expression.

"My Uncle, mother's brother, had four children, and I've seen them ride piggy-back."

"I don't think there's a piggy-back rider in your whole family. I never knew a rich man yet who was a good piggy-back rider."

"That's silly."

"To be a piggy-backer it takes complete relaxation, a warm heart and a loving nature."

"And rich people have none of those qualifications I suppose."

"Not a one."

"You're prejudiced."

"Show me a good piggy-back rider and I'll show you someone that's human. Take Abraham Lincoln for instance…natural born piggy-backer. Where do you get off with your stuffed-shirt family?"

"My father was a great piggy-backer," Brennan said with finality. She might not have the perfect family, but Booth had no right to speak about her family this way. Booth handed her the suitcase he was carrying.

"Hold this a minute." Brennan took the suitcase, wondering why he was handing it to her. The sting of his hand on her backside answered that question as she let out a small squeal in protest. "Thank you." He set her down as he climbed out of the other side of the creek. Booth took his shoes back from her and sat down to put them back on. Brennan glared at him, but Booth completely ignored her. They'd have to keep moving if they were going to find the nearest highway.

Several hours passed and the pair found themselves finally along a roadside. Neither knew where they were, but as the sun rose, the only thing on their mind was getting to the nearest town. From there, they could make a plan of attack for getting to New York.

"What are you thinking about," Brennan asked as she limped along, her ankle not holding up well under the constant walking.

"By a strange coincidence, I was thinking of you."

"Really?" Brennan couldn't keep the grin off her face. Booth glanced over at her and smirked.

"Yeah. I was wondering what makes dames like you so dizzy." Temperance glared at him and frowned some more as he began to laugh.

"What did you say we were supposed to be doing?"


"Well, you've given me a very good example of the hiking. When does the hitching come in?"

"A little early yet. The cars aren't out yet."

"If it's just the same to you, we'll wait right here until they come," Brennan muttered as she made her way to a log on the roadside. Booth shook his head and followed her, sitting next to her. "What if no one stops for us?"

"Oh, they'll stop all right. It's all in the manner of knowing how to hail them."

"And you're an expert I suppose."

"Expert! Going to write a book on it, called 'The Hitch-hiker's Hail'."

"There's no end to your accomplishments."

"You think it's simple, huh?"

"Oh, no," Brennan said, rolling her eyes. Booth scowled at her and stood up, ready to demonstrate his technique.

"Well, it is simple. It's all in the thumb, see? A lot of people do it like this, see?" Booth began to wave his arm frantically in front of his face. "But they're all wrong. Never get anywhere."

"Tch, tch. I'm sorry for the poor things."

"But the thumb always works. Different ways to do it though. Depends on your mood. For instance number one is a short, jerky movement." Booth demonstrates, snappily jerking his thumb to the side. "That shows independence. You don't care if they stop or not 'cause you've got some money in your pocket, see?"


"Number two is a wider movement – smile goes with that one – like this. It means you've got a couple brand new stories about the farmer's daughter."

"You figured that out yourself, huh?"

"Oh, that's nothing. Now take number three, for instance. That's a pip. A pathetic one. When you're broke, and hungry, and everything looks black. It's a long movement like this, with a follow through."


"Hm? Yeah but it's no good if you haven't got a long face with it." Booth looked at her expectantly, but sees her attention down the road.

"Here comes a car."

"Now watch me. I'm going to use number one. Keep your eye on that thumb, baby, and see what happens." Booth stepped up to the roadside and proceeded to stick out his thumb as the car flew by, sending up a cloud of dust in his face.

"I'm still watching the thumb."

"Something must have gone wrong," Booth replied as he watched the car disappear down the road. "I guess I'll try number two."

"When you get up to a hundred, wake me up." With that, Brennan lay across the fencepost and shut her eyes. As car after car began to whiz by, Booth tried to flag down the cars using his different techniques and finally grew desperate. He began waving his arms frantically hoping that one of the cars would pull over to give them a ride into the nearest town. As the last car in a long caravan of them drove by, he made a rude gesture with his hand and stomped back over to the fencepost. Temperance opened one eye to look at him.

"I guess maybe I won't write that book after all."

"But think of all the fun you've had." Brennan smirked as Booth glared back at her. She swung herself up to a sitting position and looked out at the road. "Mind if I try?"

"You? Don't make me laugh."

"You're such a smart aleck. Nobody can do anything but you. I'll show you how to stop a car, and I won't use my thumb." Brennan hopped off of the fence and sauntered to the roadside.

"What are you going to do?"

"Mind your own business." With that, Brennan hitched the edge of the skirt she was wearing and pretended to adjust her panty hose. As her shapely leg was out for display, a car drove by and immediately slammed on the brakes, coming to a stop just a little farther up the road. With a smirk, Brennan dropped the hem of the skirt and made her way to the car, a reluctant Booth behind her. "You might give me a little credit."

"What for?"

"I proved once and for all that the limb is mightier than the thumb."

"Why didn't you take all your clothes off? Then we could have stopped forty cars," Booth snarked, opening the back door for Brennan. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

"We didn't need forty cars." With that, she climbed in, well aware of the sputtering agent on the roadside.