Title: The Soldier in the Woods
Summary: When the supposed remains of Civil War soldier are found in a remote Florida forest, Bones and Booth are sent to authenticate the find.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the laptop on which this was written. (Still making payments, thank you.) Bones does not belong to me; neither does Booth, Brennan, or the Squint Squad. I just like to take them out to play.
Spoilers: Through 2x18 - The Killer in the Concrete (This would actually take place in the month of June so, technically, after the end of S2 but, for the sake of spoilers and canon, only through 2x18.)
Rating: T
Pairings/Characters: Booth/Brennan - ensemble
Genres: Case file/romance/maybe a smidge of angst
A/N: My first Bones fic. Be gentle. Extra special thanks go out to Michelle for her priceless comments, indispensable advice, and occasional prods with a sharp stick. Thanks also go to Fling who graciously provided her skills as a top-notch beta. Any errors contained herein are all on me.
Loved it? Hated it? I'd love to know why. Take a moment to review, if the spirit moves you.
"The closer you get, the better I feel.
The closer you are, the more I see
Why everyone says that I look happier
When you're around.
The closer you get, the better I feel."
from "Closer" by Dido
Chapter One
"Bones! Grab your sandals and sunscreen. We're goin' to Florida."
Dr. Brennan didn't need to look up from her paperwork to know that Agent Booth was standing in her doorway, grinning from ear to ear like a kid in a candy shop. She could hear it in his voice. "I'm busy," she replied around the pencil held firmly in her teeth, although it sounded more like, "Mmm bishy."
Movement in her periphery proved what she already knew to be a universal truth. Booth would never take a simple 'no' for an answer. She removed the pencil from her mouth and patiently set it atop the stack of manila folders -- cases, remains that she had delayed identifying because she was off playing secret agent with her own real-life G-man -- not that she was complaining. She loved the excitement and the adventure, and it helped fuel her writing. However, those files were her responsibility, to the Jeffersonian and to the families that needed to know the truth. She'd put them aside too long.
"C'mon, Bones. It'll be fun." Booth was leaning on the edge of her desk, hands slightly more than shoulder width apart, his tie -- bright red with a cartoon boy and a tiger in the center -- pooling on her files.
Brennan sighed and leaned back in her chair, meeting his eyes. It was her first and final mistake. Booth had exceptionally expressive eyes and right now they were begging her to give in to his demands. "Why, exactly, am I going to Florida with you?"
"You're going to Florida?" Angela Montenegro entered the office and meandered over to Brennan's desk. "How romantic." She waggled her manicured eyebrows at Brennan then turned her attention on Booth, who straightened and took a step back.
"Romant . . . no. Not at all," he stammered. Angela glanced at Brennan and they shared a smile. While Brennan didn't usually approve of Angela's insistence that Booth was a hot-buttered biscuit and had the hots for her, she found it amusing when Ange turned the tables on him. A flustered Booth was an entertaining Booth, she had to admit.
"Agent Booth was about to tell me how going to Florida with him was more important than this stack of files," Brennan explained, the whole time watching him as he regained his composure, shifting his shoulders under his suit jacket and muttering to himself. It seemed that, lately, it took him longer to do so after one of Angela's innuendo-laden barbs.
"What's there to know?" Angela countered. "Sun, sand, and dark tans, versus fluorescent lights, bones, and skulls. You wouldn't have to ask me twice." She turned back to Booth and flashed him a patented Montenegro smile. "Ask me. I'll prove it."
Booth grinned and shook his head. "Sorry, Angela, no can do. I'm in need of a forensic anthropologist for this trip, not an artist. Maybe next time."
"Don't make promises you won't keep," she purred as she turned and walked out of the room, calling over her shoulder to Brennan, "Zack wanted me to tell you that he's finished the scans on your John Doe."
"Thanks," Brennan called after her before addressing Booth. "So, why?"
"Hmmm?" He turned his attention back to her and smiled. "Oh." He chuckled and looked down at his hands. "Some hikers found a skeleton in the Ocala National Forest a couple of days ago. The Gainesville field office called it in to D.C. and Cullen is sending me to check it out. I'm going to need you to help me with identification."
Now it was starting to make sense. "But why you? What did you do to Cullen?" Brennan asked, trying to hide a smile.
Booth threw his hands in the air and turned on his heel, pacing away from her desk and back again before answering. "I was playing a prank on Simmons. I put salt in the sugar dispenser in the break room. How was I supposed to know that Cullen was going to get a cup of coffee? Damn, that man can hold a grudge."
Brennan blew out a puff of air and rolled her eyes. "You can't be serious. He's punishing you because of an adolescent prank?"
With a sullen glare, Booth nodded. "That and I may have dinged his car last week." Before she could say anything, he interjected, pointing a finger at the ceiling, "May have! There's no proof."
"Of course not," she replied, nodding her head seriously. "That explains why you're going to Florida. I still fail to see why I have to go."
His devilish grin reappeared and he edged closer, placing a hand on her arm, and prompting her out of her chair. "Because, Bones, we're partners. When I get punished, you get punished."
She walked along with him, snagging her bag as soon as it was within reach. "That doesn't seem very fair," she commented.
"I never said it was fair."
"I'd like to rethink this partner thing, if it's all the same to you."
"It's not," he replied as he ushered her past the guard and out of the inner-sanctum of the Medico-Legal Lab, toward the front door. "Let's go get you packed. I'll explain everything on the plane."