FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth sat uncomfortably in the confines of a Boeing 747-400 aircraft that had just finished a lengthy journey across the Atlantic Ocean and was currently in the skies somewhere over France.
Despite the wide-body design of the 747 Booth still didn't find comfort in the advertised 'spacious seating of the economy class'. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite as he recalled riding in the back of armored personnel carriers in his Army days that seemed to have more space than here.
Beside him sat a rather portly fellow— a man that by all fair accounts should have two seats assigned to him rather than one. However, this was not the case and the man poured over the arm rest that separated the two, irritating Booth further. Despite the man's circumference being the obvious reason for this situation he had the audacity to look at Booth with irritation each time he attempted to adjust his considerable weight for more comfort; each time he bumped or jarred Booth substantially enough to garner a frustrated glance from the Special Agent. This glance was returned by a menacing glare.
To make matters worse an elderly woman sitting in front of Booth reclined her seat to the fullest extent possible, complicating Booth's attempt to enjoy his in-flight meal because the reclined seat obstructed his service tray. What a stupid design, he thought. Additionally that same woman had a habit of moving around in her seat quite frequently, causing the chair to push back repeatedly which led to the seat bumping Booth's knees. This was a minor nuisance; it caused no pain of course, but was annoying enough to cause mounting exasperation as the lengthy flight continued.
Across the aisle a young fraught-ridden mother tried to calm her baby son, who clearly liked flying even less than Booth as he voiced this distaste with escalating crescendos of alarming crying; granting respite only periodically as he fell asleep on different legs of the journey. Now, however, he was in full swing— crying out with surprising force and seeming to froth at the mouth to Booth.
Ah, but at least he sat in the aisle. A kingly residence to take up in a place meant for paupers. That was a benefit; it had saved him on this wretched trans-Atlantic flight. It had allowed him to stretch his legs from beneath the oppressive chair which constantly leaned back into his personal space, it made it easy to stand up and walk the aisle from time to time and he was able to quickly venture to the bathroom.
The beverage cart! Yes, the beverage cart was coming and it created a level of excitement in Booth as it materialized through the forward hanging curtain. He was parched and this little cart of delight would provide him with sustenance.
Pain sent shivers up his aching spine and a throbbing sensation soon made itself known upon his shin. His savior, that little trolley of hope and relief had been piloted by a bumbling newcomer to the world of flight attendance. This coupled with Booth's leg stretched freely into the aisle led to a disastrous calamity. The cart struck him with a degree of force causing his brow to furrow in pain. He forced a smile and a nod of the head as the steward apologized for the accident, though Booth knew he was partly to blame as well—- it certainly did not help the situation. Oh how he wanted to scream.
He closed his eyes tightly and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his dexterous fingers. He was nearly there, almost to his destination. He exhaled deeply, trying desperately to think of something that could occupy his mind, but a familiar voice disturbed his thoughts.
"Enjoying the trip?" Dr. Temperance Brennan, Booth's partner and renowned forensic anthropologist asked in a near mischievous tone. Stunning blue eyes that belied her immense intelligence peered down at Booth- a sly grin cracked upon her face.
Booth let out a deep sigh, grimaced and then leaned forward. He peeled his sweat-stained t-shirt from his back. Perspiration had overtaken him on the flight. The small vent for air had not been adequate enough to keep him cool; especially with Jumbo pressing up against him on the right side.
"Oh, everything's just peachy-keen, Bones," he said in an incensed voice.
"I find my accommodations to be more than sufficient. They provided me with a small suite. It's quite amusing. My recliner allows for approximately 150 and 239 centimeters of pitch and between 50 and 90 centimeters of width. It's very comfortable. I also have a small workstation, mini-bar and there's even a television like the one you have in your living room," Brennan unapologetically listed the accoutrements of her sizeable suite aboard the aircraft.
"Well that's the benefit of first-class, I guess," Booth answered dejectedly.
"You should consider upgrading," she suggested.
"I can't afford that," Booth responded with despair, knowing there would be a long return flight from Europe after the case was solved.
"Frequent flyer miles. I'm part of the Star Alliance—-if you get enough miles with different airlines that are members of the Star Alliance then you can use your miles to upgrade," she exclaimed proudly, happy to be teaching something to Booth.
"Yeah, yeah I know about flyer miles, Bones," he said back, calling her by the nickname he had given her many years ago. "Look, I'm just fine back here in steerage."
"It doesn't look like."
"Well I am, okay?"
"Do you want to talk about the case?" Bones asked with interest. She hadn't seen much of Booth since they'd been in the airport. Once beyond security they had gone to separate lounges. Brennan's first-class ticket allowed for her to spend her time in a first-class lounge, while Booth waited in the regular waiting area. Things were the same aboard the plane.
"What's there to talk about?" Booth asked with a sigh. His joints and shoulder ached endlessly.
"Why are we being called all the way to the Czech Republic for a murder investigation? This doesn't sound like something the FBI has jurisdiction over," Bones voiced her reservations. She folded her arms and looked down at her partner expectantly.
"They think the body they found belongs to an employee from the American Embassy—- now the State Department's Diplomatic Security Service is the law enforcement branch and they'd normally be heading up the investigation, but on occasion the FBI has taken the lead on this sort of thing. Not to mention the body is apparently pretty decomposed and… well, that's where you come in," Booth explained to Bones why the two of them had been called all the way to Europe. He'd been happy for the chance to see Europe, even if it was for work. But the timing couldn't have been worse- he was missing Parker's birthday and that was something he wasn't happy about it. Rebecca, his mother, had had him the previous year and this time it was Seeley's turn, but the job was taking him away from that opportunity and his son's birthday meant far more to him than seeing Europe.
Jumbo, the fellow beside him looked over at him with a profound look of disgust emblazoned upon his face at the sound of the word 'decomposed'.
"What?" Booth challenged. The man scoffed and looked away.
"Well it's going to be difficult to work without the lab equipment at the Jeffersonian, not to mention the rest of the team," Bones admitted. Initially she'd been supremely confident in her skills. That hadn't changed now, but she certainly relied on her co-workers, her friends, much more than those early days of this entire investigative branch her career had taken.
"It'll be fine, Bones. It's not the first case we've done away from the D.C. area," Booth retorted. He cracked a yawn right after.
"Fair enough," she acquiesced, trusting in his reassurance and she had always done. She hovered for a moment, expecting him to say something else, but he seemed far more distracted by the conditions of his seating location. She hadn't seen him this agitated in a long time. "Anything else?"
"No, no, I don't think so. No, nothing else," he stumbled over his words, craning in his seat as he attempted to stretch and alleviate the soreness developing in his lower back.
"Back to my seat, then," she told him.
"You mean suite, back to your suite?" Booth asked jealously.
"Yes," she admitted. "Back to my suite."
Booth grimaced once more, watching her disappear through the curtain that lay ahead of him. He leaned his chair back and heard a snort. A quick glance revealed an angry passenger who he'd bumped as he reclined. He sighed as the ominous stare didn't subside and then raised his chair back up to the full, upright position. He closed his eyes forcefully, hoping sleep would find him. In a few hours he'd be landing at Ruzyně Airport in Prague—- he just needed to get through those few hours…
As a side note, this story takes place sometime after the 100th episode but before the finale and also after Hodgins and Angela got back together.
