"This is starting to be a habit, Doctor Brennan. Booth, it'll be your turn to be evidence again next time." Cam smiled, her eyes twinkling at Booth over Brennan's shoulder and she carefully peeled Brennan out of her field jumpsuit, which was covered with spatter from the suicide bomber earlier in the day. Booth kept his eyes on the ceiling even though Brennan was still clad in light yoga pants and a black tank top. Cam stuffed the jumpsuit into an evidence bag and began picking carefully at Brennan's ponytail and placing what she found in small bags.
"What are you still doing here, Booth?" Brennan twisted slightly. Cam firmly turned Brennan's head back to face forward. "Can't you wait an hour to get my statement?"
"I've got orders to take your statement immediately, Bones." Booth said in a slightly harassed tone of voice. "This guy somehow managed to get into the D.C. courthouse with a bomb strapped to his chest. I'm under some pressure to close this thing up, you know?"
"I think I've got everything we need – you can use the decontamination shower now if you like." Cam picked up the evidence bags, looked them over and said. "I know I'd want to. Yuck." She headed out the door.
Brennan hopped down from the stainless steel table on her bare feet and began to peel her tank top off. Booth made a small strangled sound and turned his back to her quickly.
"So, take my statement." Brennan said, stripping down to her underwear behind him. He couldn't help but notice a slightly distorted, but still torturously clear reflection of her in the stainless steel evidence fridge in front of him. Matching. Black. Lace.
"Good Lord." He muttered. His phone buzzed another message incoming demanding he get a move on, no doubt.
"What?"
Booth cleared his throat twice. "Nothing. Uh, so when we got to the scene and the bomber approached you did you notice anything unusual?" Booth said. He fought to keep his eyes on his notepad, but somehow his hearing had become superhuman in the last two seconds and he heard the two soft whispers of sound as Brennan's lingerie came off. The shower door opened, then closed, and he turned back around. The shower came on. Booth stared at the small pile of folded clothes on the table; she had neatly tucked her under things beneath her clothes. He cleared his throat again.
"Not really. I didn't really notice him until he started shouting."
"Which direction was he heading?"
"Well, I was heading into the courthouse to act as an expert for Caroline's double suicide case and he was…heading out. That's sort of odd isn't it?"
"Yeah. You'd assume the target was inside the courthouse. Why would he be leaving with a bomb?" Booth mused.
The shower turned off and the door cracked open. Booth was about to turn around again, but Brennan's wet hand reached out and she said. "Will you hand me a towel over there?" Her fingers waved in the direction of a locker beside the shower. Booth dutifully pulled a large towel out of the locker and handed it to her.
"Did he push a triggering device of any kind?" Booth continued. The door of the shower swung open and Brennan stood, wrapped in the towel, her hair wet and her face looking scrubbed and fresh. Booth kept his eyes on his notes but discreetly looked her up and down.
"Not that I could see – he did seem to be in a hurry. Not running, but rushing out of the building." Brennan said. She bent to retrieve her clothing, offering a view of long, smooth legs. She retreated into the shower cubicle and emerged moments later dressed with the towel wrapped turban-style around her head.
"I wonder…" Booth said. "I wonder if he was trying to get out of the building before the bomb went off. What if he was just a victim like our Santa?"
"That would be quite a coincidence."
"There are no coincidences."
"That's just simply not true, Booth." Brennan's eyebrows drew together.
"It's just a saying." Booth sighed. "All clean? Let's go!"
"I'd like to put myself together before we head back out. I can meet you there since I know your superiors want you to work quickly."
"Put what together? You look fine." Booth said impatiently, his phone was buzzing again in his pocket.
"I need to change into more professional clothing, dry my hair, put on some mascara…" Brennan raised her eyebrows, smiling at Booth.
"You look fine right now. Beautiful. You don't need the gunk." Booth responded.
"I need shoes." Brennan pointed out, but her eyes were shining with the pleasure of Booth's brusque compliments.
"Okay, we'll get you shoes. Let's go." Booth hooked an arm around her waist and propelled her forward with a firm hand at the small of her back. Brennan allowed him to guide her out the door toward her office before turning mischievous eyes over her shoulder at him.
"Did you peek?" She asked, arching her eyebrows.
"No!" Booth said defensively, looking away. Then he smirked and met her laughing, knowledge-filled eyes. "But I do favor black lace."
Brennan chuckled. Booth's phone buzzed again and he sighed. Pulling it out of his pocket he made an exasperated sound.
"Twelve new messages." He read aloud. "C'mon, Bones, let's light a fire under it. They're breathing down my neck."