A/N Okay. So. After many fabulous reviews, the general consensus was confusion. I have revamped everything from the beginning making it an easier read. Sorry for the mayhem with this one…
She swerved into the first available parking spot she saw. Looking past the van from the local television station and the various police vehicles that showered the street with blinking red and blue lights, she spotted him across the park. She grabbed her bag from the back seat, then scooted out from behind the wheel, slammed her car door shut and cut across the grassy area. As her heels sank into the soft ground she thought,
Big Mistake.
She jerked off her dangling earrings and stuffed them into her coat pocket where she felt around for an elastic to tie back the hair she'd left down for that evening's events. Unfortunately, she couldn't do anything about the slinky dress under her coat or the strappy high heeled sandals on her feet. They'd been fine for the benefit, but were sorely out of place at that particular moment.
"Dr. Temperance Brennan, Jeffersonian Institute"", she said flashing her ID.
The cop guarding the perimeter of the crime scene shone a beam of light at the card, then looked her over, letting his gaze linger longer than necessary on the low-cut neckline of her dress.
""If I were you, I'd go back to the party --- unless you have a strong stomach."
"Really…" she drawled, barely containing her mounting anger.
The young police officer wasn't even paying attention to here at this point. Flexing whatever professional muscle he thought he had he shouted,
"Alright, that's enough! Get these people out of here now!" Turning back in her direction he added with a lecherous grin, "You can start with this broad here in the stilts."
Before she could move towards the little bastard to show him what kind of mistake he'd made with that remark, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder. Moving in front of her Booth got right in the face of the rookie cop.
"I suggest that in the future you treat Dr. Brennan, AKA, my partner with a hell of a lot more respect. Do I make myself clear?"
The low and menacing tone that he used made Brennan grin and shiver at the same time. It had taken her awhile to get to the point of letting him fight some of her battles for her. Not long after they'd made their relationship public, it really hit home as to how loyal and fiercely protective Special Agent Seeley Booth was of the people he loved. Of course, this didn't take into account the many arguments, shouting matches and hurt feelings in respect to the question of Brendan's ability to take care of herself. It took time but Brennan came to the understanding that Booth wasn't questioning her abilities but rather that he loved her and just wanted to show it from time to time.
Grinning at the memory, she focused back on the discomfort of the young cop in time to hear him stammering apologies and uttering numerous promises to never let it happen again. Turning back toward her, Booth closed the distance between them and placed a discreet kiss on her waiting lips.
"Hey beautiful", he murmured.
"Hey yourself."
As they feel into step beside one another, she pretended not to notice as he looked behind them to shoot another dark glare in the direction of the chagrinned cop.
"Obnoxious ass," she sighed.
"Don't let him get to you. All the rookies think they're hot shots right out of the academy. Besides, I think he and I have come to an agreement of sorts." he explained smirking.
"Do you feel better?" she asked with a wry grin.
Taking her hand and squeezing it gently along with a wink and his trademark smile were the only response she got. Holding back her sarcastic remarks she dropped his hand as they came up to the crime scene. The woman was lying on her back, naked. Her neck was gaping open and giant X's had been painted across both of her breasts. Brennan's stomach heaved and she turned away, suddenly so nauseated she could barely stand. Feeling his warm hand on the small of her back she said weakly,
"It must have been something I ate."
"Yeah. I almost did the same thing when I saw the victim." he replied.
Almost. Meaning he hadn't.
Sighing, partly disappointed in herself and more so resentful of Booth, she thought back over the past year. The Jeffersonian's role in FBI cases had evolved and was now focusing more on higher profile cases dealing more with murders in and around the city.. This meant that she now very rarely dealt with cold cases or people who could not be ID'd instead trading in for "fleshies" as Zach and Hodgins so affectionately labeled these unfortunate victims. No matter how many calls she'd been on with Booth, it was not getting easier to see the human side of these crimes, If anything, it was becoming more difficult. Shaking herself back to the task at hand, she felt Booth rubbing slow circles on her lower back.
"Are you all right now?" he asked.
"I will be in a minute. What's the story on the victim?"
"Well, there really isn't one yet."
"Who found the body?"
"Not sure, but whoever it was called the television station. They were here before the cops and FBI which is why everyone in kind of on edge. Seriously compromises the crime scene."
She regained her composure and turned to begin examining the scene as his words played in her head. Turning suddenly, she looked up at him with a knowing gaze.
"Now, now Bones. I'm the one who use's their gut." he said giving her another quick wink and replaying the smile from just a few moments before. She rolled her eyes at him and turned back to her work but try as she might, she could not stop the smile she had been fighting from sneaking it's way to her lips.
It was one thirty in the morning by the time Brennan had finished her preliminary exam of the body and made it back to her apartment. As she'd expected, Booth had done his damnedest to get her away from the lab and back home but her stubbornness had worn him down and pissed him off in the process. He'd dogged her steps from the moment they arrived at the lab begging her to just come home and get a fresh start in the morning. She almost agreed but the nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her that this was too important won out in the end.
She was tired, but the images from the murder scene stayed with her, replaying like a video, as she brushed her teeth, then quietly rummaged through her bureau drawer for something soft and satiny to sleep in. Lingerie was her one indulgence, no doubt a side effect of the couple of years she had to wear nothing but the functional castoffs of others.
Tonight she slipped into a pair of dove grey silk pajamas with a matching robe but even that didn't calm her racing mind. She quietly ducked from the room careful not to wake Booth in the process. Going to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine and carried it with her as roamed from one end of the large apartment to the other. She loved her loft that was located in an older section of DC. Sure the floors creaked and the ancient plumbing rattled, but there was a tremendous amount of character and personality in the place. She was quietly glad when Booth gave up his place to live with her. Her writing would never be the same in any other place simply due to the fact that this loft seemed to breathe stories of the past.
She doubted any of the former inhabitants had ever seen anything like the brutal murder she'd been witness to earlier that evening. Brennan wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold and filled with an anxious apprehension. Softly she padded down the hall finally giving into the burning pressure of her eyelids. Climbing into bed, Booth immediately moved closer to her, one hand on her waist. Smiling softly to herself, she knew he wasn't angry with her, frustrated yes, always, but not angry.
Her gaze drifted over his features as her subconscious took over, forming new images out of the gruesome reality of that night. She was trying desperately to close the victim's gaping wound while Booth guiding her shaking hand. They moved slowly and deliberately, as if working on some deranged puzzle; all the pieces were there, but she couldn't make them fit. She was so tired, so very tired. Slowly the images faded and she fell into the old nightmarish dreams that had haunted her for longer than she cared to remember. That old house with the dark, deep staircase. Dread so real, she could taste it.
She jerked awake, the silk pajamas soaked with the cold sweat that still beaded between her breasts and on her brow. The nightmare only crept out from the dark recesses of her mind whenever she was stressed. Looking to Booth, she was relived she hadn't woken him and drew strength from his presence. It was nice to have him there.