Ok! So here it goes, my first attempt at writing a multichapter. I really hope you have at least as much fun reading it as I've had writing it.

I'm not sure how long it'll finally be, it depends a bit on response (I'm sure you know by now how great reviews are...right?), ideas and inspirations, but I can see at least a few more chapters. Next one should be up shortly.

Before I leave you to our favorite characters, I'd like to thank Bailadora and SherlockBones for their wonderful help. Really, you've been great :D

Enjoy!

He sat in Brennan's office, waiting for them to ID the last corpse they'd found. Not that he really needed it this time; he was quite sure of whom it was, but having and official ID would help him.

He needed help urgently in this case.

"These guys think they're doing it great," he mumbled, crunching the foam zumo figure hard in his hand.

He had to find something that would prove his gut right. He couldn't fill any of the forms the Bureau requested of him saying he could feel these guys were the perpetrators of these horrible crimes. Just as he felt he just had to probe a bit more—just a bit more—and he'd find what he needed.

"Well. Probing means Plan B," he mumbled again.

"What?" Brennan had barely caught what he'd said as she entered her office.

"We got our ID yet?"

"Yes. You were right." And she still wondered how he'd done it. "Don't brag. What were you saying?"

"I need a Plan B, Bones. These guys think they're clever, but they just don't know us," he said, punctuating his words with a finger to the air.

She sat at her desk and looked at him as he left the zumo figurine on the coffee table in front of him. "They are clever, Booth. Otherwise they would have already been caught, or you'd have further evidence by now." The look he sent her, a mixture of hurt and anger, made her feel a little guilty. Not that she'd say that out loud. After all, she was merely stating a fact. "Don't get me wrong. I also think we're cleverer than them."

"Thank you," he said distinctly. "I like to think so myself." He stood up and walked to his jacket, having made a decision about what he was going to do. "So, I'll go now and get into their place and see if I can get something. See ya later!" He tried to be nonchalant. He did try. He even thought that, if he walked away fast enough, she'd just stay in her office.

"What?!" she asked suprised and excited, going after him. "I'm going with you!"

He turned and walked backwards. "No, you're not. But if you wanna help, check on the weapons used on the body. It may be mighty useful." He turned again, saying loudly so the sound would carry to her, as he was sure he was leaving her behind, "Thank you, Bones. I'll let you know how this little thing goes".

He'd waited a while before even getting out of the car, watching for movement in or near the house. Then, he'd checked through the windows, making sure it was deserted. Of course, it didn't mean no one would come once he was inside the house, but it'd be worse if he hadn't checked and suddenly found himself face to face with someone.

Now he was kneeling in front of the back door, trying to force the lock open.

"Would you like some help?" his partner asked. He hadn't been able to convince her to remain in the lab; she'd stubbornly insisted on going with him, using inventive—though she'd called it logical—arguments.

"Of course I would. Please make sure no one's coming around, and I'll—" the door opened "—have this door opened instantly." He smiled at her.

"Ok, where do we go now? What do we do?" she asked loudly. She was enjoying this, and though he didn't quite approve, he couldn't help enjoying her reaction. That didn't mean he'd let her ruin the operation.

"Shh! We don't want to be heard, remember?" he scolded her, his voice low, trying to make her get the message.

"I still don't understand," she said mimicking his tone. "You could have gotten a warrant and been done with it, why are we breaking in instead?"

"It's not a break in, ok? And we're doing it this way 'cause I don't want them to know we're after them, that's why, Bones. Now, please be quiet. Stay behind, follow me close, all right?"

"Yeah," she said, standing right next to him.

He made an exasperated face, took her by the arm, and forced her behind him.

He'd been in the house before, interviewing suspects who didn't know they were considered as such. He passed the desks that filled almost every space available in an orderly way, now strangely empty.That first time, every single one of them had been occupied, everyone making calls or half hidden behind a computer screen. The difference was as palpable as a fist.

He went upstairs, dividing his attention between searching the house and making sure Bones didn't risk herself or the operation. He quickly looked in the other rooms in the floor. Here, the spaces allowed for more room, with just the necessary furniture to decorate. The offices followed the same rules here, trying to make the hierarchy obvious. It was a nice distribution of things if you were to enter by the main door, which they hadn't. Leaving that behind, he just tried to guess where else they could look for evidence if they had the time.

They reached the main office. As he got close to the desk, he saw Bones rest against the wall.

"You know, this isn't as much fun as I thought it'd be, at least once the adrenaline rush begins to diminish."

He rolled his eyes. "If you wanted fun, Bones, you could have thought of bringing some Anthropology Journal and use it to—"

First, he felt them. That alone would have sufficed to know someone was close. Then he heard them.

"What? What?" She saw his reaction, the way his body tensed all of a sudden, and knew something wasn't right.

"Shh." He mimicked with his hand, looking around frantically. He saw a door and led Brennan that way, knowing they had to hide or the whole operation—he wouldn't be calling it a breaking in—would be a complete failure.

He could hear someone climbing the stairs. He had to be quick. He didn't have time to think, he had to act and act now.

He opened the door, tossed Brennan in with one hand and went in himself, closing the door right behind him in one single motion. He barely heard Brennan whisper, kind of panicked "Don't close the door! There's no handle on the inside!"

Too late.

"We'll worry 'bout that later, ok? Now be quiet, please, Bones!"

He tried to concentrate in whatever he could hear coming from the other side of the door. He knew Brennan was really close, but he couldn't think of that right now.

"Booth."

"Shh!"

"We're..."

"Later, Bones, ok?"

Yep. They were very close. He could feel Brennan's breath on his face. And parts of her were—no, he couldn't think of that now. He had to know if they were in any danger of being discovered... He had to be ready in case he needed to take his gun out quickly.

He heard steps coming near. His senses were catching every little stimulation: the smell of dust and moth, underlined by what he could only guess had to be Bones's own smell. You can't think about that. The pressure of walls against his body. This is a really small place I got us into. Bones body plastered against his. Can't think about that either. The sound of her breathing. Nope, what about those steps? He tried to make out the pattern, and realized that whoever was in the room—a single set of steps—had walked to the desk and was doing something there. He heard some clicks, something that sounded as... yeah, the guy must have been opening the desk drawers. A shuffling sound... looking for papers.

"Are you ready?!" someone yelled from the first floor.

"Yeah, found it! Let me close this—" came the reply from very close.

"Forget it, let's go! We're late!"

"OK, I'm going!" he yelled. "Bastard," he added quietly.

Booth could hear the steps going down the stairs and then it all went deadly silent.

He let the air he just realised he had been holding out. And took it all in again as he looked at—rather tried to look at Brennan—for there was almost no light. Not that he needed any. There was nothing else that could have taken his attention away from the feeling of her, all of her, pressed right in front of him.

"Can I talk now, Booth?" she sarcastically asked.

"Err...yes," he said hesitantly.

Their faces were just a couple inches apart. Couldn't be otherwise, given the circumstances.

"We're trapped. I tried to tell you."

"Well, I'm sorry that I had more pressing matters in mind, Bones. Like saving us from being discovered."

"I understand that. What I don't understand is why you had to choose the smallest closet available in the house!"

"Yeah, right. Like I knew this was this small! I saw a door and thought it might be a good hiding place, that's all"

"Oh, of course." She added, "And you didn't have the time to check that we could get out of it, either?"

"What do you mean? It's all about—" She didn't notice, but he opened his eyes in terror. He had just remembered what she had been saying while he was closing the door behind him. There's no handle on the inside. "Oh," he said, implying in that simple sound he'd just realised what they were into.

He tried to move his hand to his back and search for a handle. The movement, he was quick to notice, made him rub himself against his partner's body. God, he thought. This is not the time.

"What are you doing?" she asked, quite breathless. She had felt the rubbing, too.

"Why, Bones, I'm trying to get us out of here."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"Looking for a handle, of course. There must be one."

The feeling of their bodies rubbing was really disturbing, and there was no way of escaping it. He tried not to look at her, but that meant that he could feel her breath in his neck when she spoke.

"I told you there's no handle, Booth. You better try to break down the door". She was feeling...concerned. That's how she felt. She was concerned they weren't getting out of there quickly. That was why her heart was beating faster and her breath was coming shorter; and why his was coming shorter as well.

"There's no room for that, Bones! Can't you see this is some sort of cleaning... stuff... closet... of sorts?"

"No, I can't see that, 'cause there's no light. Just as there's no handle. This is obviously where they're meant to keep things like brooms and such. Though there's nothing like that in here. I doubt they even remembered this closet was here."

"Well, I guess they just aren't the cleaning type," he said, giving up on the handle. There wasn't one. "Ok, let me think."

"No handle, I told you"

"Let me think, Bones!" Ok. There must be a way out. I can't keep this up. Let's just say I want to keep it down. We can't stay here, like this. God, I must THINK! And not about the situation, but of how to get out of it. This is the time to pray, to remember about nuns and poverty. And famish. I am famished. I am just about to—no, no. That's not helping me and— "What are you doing, Bones?!" He asked, this time quite scared. She was rubbing herself against him now, in what appeared to be a quest to find something. Not that knowing that helped him.

"I'm trying to get my cell phone. We might call someone to come and rescue us."

"Please, there must be a non-embarrassing way out" he put his arms one on each side of her, trying to force the door open. Not that the movement did him any good.

"Don't move! I can barely hold my—" He heard something fall to the floor. "My cell phone. Great job, Booth! Now I have to try to get it—" She squirmed, trying to reach the floor. Oh, God, oh God, he thought. I need the blood in my BRAIN, for God's sake. I need to THINK. Don't do this to me. "—from the floor."

"You know what," he said, taking her arms and trying to keep her up. He knew his voice sounded weird, what with being almost breathless, but he couldn't help it. "Forget it. Forget your cell phone."

"We need to get out of here, Booth! Tell me, how are we supposed to get out? Do you suggest we wait 'til office hours tomorrow so that the people working here will take us out?" She started touching his waist.

"Hey! What are you doing?" In God's name, stop that!

"Well, clearly I'm trying to get your cell phone, just try not to make me lose it this time. How else are we supposed to get out? I insist, the most logical answer is—oh."

She'd noticed. He knew she'd noticed. He only hoped that being this mortified would stop him from embarrassing himself any more.

Ok, what do I do now? She thought. She remained perfectly still, which made her brain focus on the stimulation rather than denying it. She had to concentrate on something else. She could hear him breathing deeply and slowly, noticeably trying to control himself.

"Just... just don't say anything, ok? Not now, not ever," he said.

She couldn't just accept the situation and leave it be. She'd never felt awkward before when facing a man's reaction to her, but this time it was different. It was Booth. She had to use her best weapon against confusion. "It's a normal bodily function, Booth, you shouldn't be embarrassed. It's an anthropological inevitability. You're a healthy male, it's obvious that you're going to respond--"

"Just be quite, ok, Bones?"

"But it is! It's obvious you're going to respond this way. Me, I find myself responding to the situation as well, it's logical! Your body frame and your pheromones are—"

Suddenly, he put his arms one on each side of her head again, but this time he pushed with such strength that he finally broke down the door.

They tumbled to the floor. Not one second after hitting it, he was already standing up, taking her hand and helping her up.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Just... just get your cell phone and let's get the hell out of here.'

He reached for the desk, took all the papers left on it and walked fast and heavily for the stairs.