Weathering the Storm
Chapter 1: Nor'easter
Rain came down in sheets, so heavy the wipers couldn't keep the windshield clear long enough for Agent Seeley Booth to see the road. Squinting, he leaned forward and urged his sturdy SUV along the country highway. He had to work hard to stay on his side of the center line-- or on the road at all.
"Whoa," he blurted, when a heavy stream of storm water threatened to sideline the car. He managed to hang onto the wheel as the tires slipped and then gained traction. The drumming of rain on the roof was so deafening he barely heard himself cry out.
"Maybe we should stop," his companion mused calmly. "I don't remember hearing that the weather was going to be this bad."
"Yeah. But sometimes storms are worse down here near the coast."
Booth continued to strain to see his way as he crawled along. A blinding stab of lightning illuminated the fading twilight followed closely by a resounding crack of thunder. They both jumped.
Booth and Brennan had spent most of the day investigating the disappearance of a congressional aide from a seaside village on Virginia's Eastern Shore, where he had been vacationing. When unidentifiable remains had washed onshore the day before, Booth had swooped into Brennan's office at the Jeffersonian and torn her away from her ancient artifacts. She hadn't protested much; she had long since become used to Booth's sudden appearances and had learned to welcome unexpected changes of plans to her normally regimented day. Today had been very intense, too; she'd sent a lot of seemingly unrelated pieces of evidence back to the lab, along with the decimated remains found.
They had finished with recovery late in the day and had hastily packed up their equipment with an eye on the darkening sky. Now they were headed back to DC, but with darkness falling and the storm intensifying, it was beginning to look like they would have to spend the night at the first motel that they could find.
"I'd love to stop, but I haven't seen as much as a barn for miles now," Booth said with a worried frown.
"Let me see if I can find something around here with the GPS," Bones suggested, fiddling with the unit attached to the dashboard. After a minute of silence, Bones sighed in frustration.
"What?" Booth demanded.
"No satellite reception," she fumed.
"Of course there isn't," Booth groused, equally frustrated. He chuckled when he saw what she was doing next.
"Resorting to the low-tech alternative, I see?"
"According to this map, we should be close to the town of St. Charles. The next mileage post should give me a better assessment of how far we have to go."
"And how big a town is St. Charles?" Booth asked skeptically.
"Let's see," she mused, turning the map over to the demographic chart. "Population, St. Charles: 1890."
"Oh, this motel will be a real winner, then... if there even is one."
"The road seems to be washed out ahead... oh no!" Bones exclaimed as Booth wrestled with the wheel, stood on the brakes and brought the vehicle to a lurching stop just before they launched into the raging river that had taken the place of the bridge.
"Yeah, the road is definitely washed out," a dispirited Booth agreed. He slammed a fist against the dashboard. Bones, ignoring his outburst, was already opening the map again.
"We have to turn around. How far back was that little town with the guest house in the middle of it?"
"You mean the one we laughed at and said how glad we were to not have to spend the night in a place like that?"
"That would be the one." Booth muttered something under his breath.
"Well... let me see. It's about 40 miles. No, wait; I didn't add in this little portion of road here... about 44 miles." Bones continued to calmly study the map in spite of her partner's colorful contributions to the conversation.
"Booth, look... we could go back to this road right here and cut across to the highway there and get home that way. It is backtracking, but at least we wouldn't have to stay somewhere around here overnight."
Booth peered at the map on her lap. "That road is a light grey line," he said, pointing. "Gravel, or worse. It could be flooded out somewhere, too. I don't know, Bones."
"Would you rather go back to that bed and breakfast?"
"Good point. Okay; let's try your detour." Backing up, Booth made a K-turn and headed the other way. He tried to see ahead far enough to crawl along. Bones, who normally never paid attention to his driving, watched him anxiously. He glanced over at her, reflecting her worried expression. Although it didn't seem possible it could rain any harder, the intensity of the downpour increased to the point where Booth couldn't see anything at all through the windshield. Cursing, he rolled to a halt.
"What is this?" The wind was picking up now and even Booth's heavy SUV shook under its influence. After a moment of indecision, he began to inch forward again, figuring that moving even a little bit was better than staying in place. Brennan reached out and turned on the radio, fiddling with the tuner and trying to locate a news station. She found a weather forecast broadcasting from Washington, DC, and turned up the volume so they could hear it over the pounding of the rain on the roof. The static was so bad that Booth couldn't make out what the announcer was saying.
"What did he say?" He asked Bones.
"Nor'easter," she repeated. "Don't they track storms like this for days?" Bones frowned.
"I think Nor'easters can blow up in a hurry, Bones, from what I remember."
She grunted disapprovingly. "It's moving up the coast, with winds of..." she listened for a moment or two and then repeated the information she'd managed to make out.
"Winds of 50 miles per hour with higher gusts, and two to four inches of rain... more locally. Storm is expected to worsen throughout the night hours, winding down by mid-day tomorrow."
"Worsen? Worse than this?"
Right on cue, a huge tree just ahead of them blew wildly toward the road, tilted impossibly low and looked as if it was about to uproot itself. Without thinking, Booth stepped on the accelerator and jerked the wheel to avoid it. The vehicle went into a skid and squealed sideways across the road, the back wheels jack-knifing off the pavement with a whipping motion before Booth managed to regain control. He heard a dull thud beside him.
"Bones? Are you okay? Don't you have your seat belt on?" He reached for her with one hand while maintaining a grip on the wheel with the other. She was slumped against the passenger door rubbing her head and he couldn't see her face. He pulled off at a wide spot along the shoulder so he could give her his full attention.
"Ouch... yes, I am wearing a seat belt... ouch."
"Let me see," Booth said, gently pulling her hands away from her head and sliding her toward him. Somehow she had smacked her head against the side window so hard that an angry red lump was already rising. With a hand on one shoulder he inspected the rapidly forming bruise on her forehead. He hated it when she got hurt.
"It's okay," Bones protested. She remained still, though, allowing him to brush a stray lock of hair away from the injury.
"That's gonna swell," Booth said. "Sorry about that. I guess I overreacted."
"It's not your fault, Booth. Maybe we should just stay right here until the rain lets up some." She stopped and leaned back against the seat closing her eyes. It was obvious to Booth she was in pain.
"What if it doesn't let up? Nor-easters can last a long time. I don't want to wait around and get caught in another flood. I'm going to keep going, Bones. I think it's the best choice. I'll try keep the ride smooth from here on out. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes; go."
Pulling onto the highway he was true to his word and kept the car steady and at a slow rate of speed. Noticing that Bones was shivering now, he turned up the heat and defrost fan. She had never moved back from where he'd positioned her beside him, so it was natural to rest a hand on her thigh. The warmth of her knee under his palm seemed to keep him focused on getting them to safety.
Where Bones was involved, he often found himself as watchful as a hawk, constantly aware of the various dangers they faced in their investigations. She had teased him from time to time about his over-protectiveness; her coworkers had often commented on it too. But it didn't change a thing; Booth still faithfully watched over her on the job and off the job.
As tough as she was, there was something incredibly vulnerable about Temperance Brennan. Booth had sensed it from the day he'd met the brilliant scientist. It had taken him a while to figure it out, but he knew now that it was her inability to read people that concerned him. Although she wasn't a naturally trusting soul, he was afraid that one day she was going to walk into a fatal situation because she hadn't been able to interpret clear signs of danger. He shuddered, thinking about the lab where not long ago a crazy scientist had stabbed her in the arm with a scalpel. She'd just walked into the place alone, after hours, to retrieve records pertinent to their case, not considering that she might be putting herself into mortal danger. He'd barely made it there in time to save her.
He glanced over at her, his rambling thoughts causing him to need to assure himself that she was doing okay. In spite of the angry welt on the side of her forehead, she absorbed in the task she was doing.
"Look, Booth. At the next road you turn right." Bones was consulting the map again.
"Are you sure?" They were at the road in question so he turned, but he was dismayed to find that the road was little more than a path.
"Yeah, this is that grey line on the map that you said was probably dirt or gravel, but don't worry. We're only on it for a few miles before it connects to the main highway back toward the coast."
He inferred from that information that she'd given up hope of getting home tonight and was instead navigating him to that rundown bed and breakfast they'd passed earlier. The night seemed to close in on them as they made their way. The winds still whipped the trees on either side and the rain continued to make visibility almost nil, but on this lonely stretch of dirt road it seemed even worse, if that was possible. Bones, who usually took everything in stride, looked spooked, and as a result had shifted closer to his side, her eyes darting from the rainy windshield to the dark passenger window.
"Kinda creepy, isn't it?" Booth offered. "I've got a CD of the Beach Boys if you'd like. Might cheer us up." He pointed at the glove compartment.
"I'm not really in the mood," she said shakily.
"You're not afraid, are you?"
"Actually, yes—a little. We're out of satellite range for some reason, there is no cell coverage, and we have no idea if this road is flooded up ahead. And I don't like the dark," she added sheepishly.
Booth's face lit up mischievously. "You're afraid of the dark, Bones? So do you sleep with a night light?"
"Um, two in my bedroom, one in the bathroom, a few out in the hallway so I can see my way to the kitchen..."
He chuckled. "Whoa, Bones. I didn't think you were afraid of anything."
"I am brave in most circumstances, but I don't like dark places. I have actually met many people who share the same fear, Booth; it's not that odd."
"Odd? Did I say you were...odd?" Booth was clearly enjoying picking on her as he continued to navigate the muddy lane.
"Yes, you have said that several times to me," Bones pointed out with a pout.
He stopped smiling and managed to look contrite.
"I'm sorry, Bones. If I have said that to you in the past, I was just teasing you, and I didn't really mean it."
After taking a moment to study his expression and trying to gauge his sincerity, Bones relaxed. By now she had scooted over so close to him that she was nestled against his side, a situation Booth was enjoying more than he cared to admit even to himself. Whether it was the wildness of the storm or her fear of the dark, she was all but announcing that she felt safe with him. Her head settled softly onto his shoulder. He reminded himself to concentrate on driving.
"Hang on," Booth said tensely.
With both hands on the wheel he held the car steady while he braked hard. They slid to a muddy halt. Caught in the gleam of the bright headlights a swollen torrent that had once been a creek rushed across the road just in front of their car, blocking their route. The frothing, fast-moving water was not more than a foot from the end of the SUV. Booth shuddered at the close call.
To be continued…