This story is now completely written, so I figured I'd just post a chapter a day until it's done. :) As always, thank you for the kind reviews and feedback. I'm glad people are enjoying this story thus far.

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Chapter 4

"Alright, then. What've you got, Walker?" Jackson asked once everyone was situated. Walker and Leeds had just come back from scouting the area between the insurgents' camp and their own.

"There's no way to be sure, obviously, but it doesn't look like they're staying long. There's a village not far from here. I'd say they're probably doing some sort of business there, and then they'll move on," Walker replied.

"Business?" Brennan whispered to Santana, who was seated next to her.

"Drugs, guns, or girls," he whispered back. He didn't need to meet her gaze to know that his answer had alarmed her. Human trafficking was probably the worst part of Moreno's operation, and the small native villages that littered the otherwise uninhabited forests in the area often supplied him with young women. Sometimes the girls were traded for goods or to repay debts, but more often than not, they were kidnapped and drugged into compliance.

"Wouldn't we do better to pick him off while they're on the move? Seems like that's the only time he shows his face," Morris suggested. Brennan glanced at Booth, but he was studiously avoiding her gaze. She waited for him to argue against the idea, but Jackson spoke first.

"No," he said firmly. "When they're moving, every single one of them is armed. We saw proof of that yesterday. Now their numbers are increased as well. If we wait for them to make camp, there's a decent chance that at least some of them will be occupied with something other than watching their backs. We need to catch them off their guard."

"A suggestion, Major?" Booth offered, waiting until Jackson acknowledged him before continuing. "I suggest that we at least try to get some new video footage while Moreno is on the move. Taking the shot would give away our position, but recording his movements wouldn't. And we wouldn't have to get too close."

Brennan's mouth fell open slightly before she snapped it shut in frustration. Had she not proposed nearly the same thing the night before? He'd given her a logical argument against it, and now he was bringing it up in the briefing as a plausible tactic? Her eyes narrowed at him, and although Booth wasn't making eye contact, he shifted as though he could feel the heat of her glare.

Booth knew she would be angry with him, but his suggestion hadn't really been the same as her idea. She'd wanted to get closer to the target in person, putting herself in more danger than he was comfortable with. He preferred instead to send someone in with a video camera so that she could have new video to analyze.

"I agree, Booth. I'm not sure we'll be able to get anyone close enough, but we'll attempt it the next time they move camp," Jackson replied.

"It would have to be while they're moving. Unless we can figure a way to lure the asshole out of his tent," Walker added, rolling his eyes sarcastically. Brennan, however, missed the sarcasm and brightened considerably as an idea began to take shape.

"Why can't we do that?" she asked. Six pairs of eyes turned to rest upon her, and more than one held a glint of surprise. "Why can't we draw him out somehow? We already know what would motivate him. Drugs or women, most likely, right? Santana looks like a local. We don't have any drugs to pretend to trade, but he could say he wants to sell me-"

"Absolutely not!" Booth growled, no longer resisting the urge to look at her. He stared at her intensely, willing her to stop talking, but she ignored the dangerous expression on his face.

"It could work," she continued, inventing as she went. "He could say I'm a tourist he kidnapped or something, and when I get close enough to Moreno, I could give some sort of signal if he's actually Ramirez…"

"Major, you can't let her-" Jackson held up a hand to interrupt Booth's protest.

"Dr. Brennan, as much as I appreciate your willingness to go the extra mile, I'm sure it won't be necessary to resort to something so extreme." Jackson frowned thoughtfully at her, slightly wary of the determination he saw in her eyes. After a lengthy career in the military, he could spot a daredevil fairly easily. He wondered how he hadn't seen it in her before.

"The Major's right, ma'am," Walker seconded. "What would the signal be? What if you got close and decided that it wasn't Ramirez after all?" Brennan hesitated, and it was clear that she was trying to formulate a feasible plan of action for those circumstances. Booth took advantage of her uncertainty and piled on more shortcomings.

"There would be no guarantee that we could get you out alive, whether the ID were confirmed or not. Moreno is keeping a low profile, and it wouldn't make sense for an outsider to know exactly where to find them or just happen up on them by accident. They'd probably kill you both based on suspicion."

"Yeah," Santana agreed, giving Brennan a crooked grin. "Sorry, Doc, but I don't think the Wookie Prisoner gag is the way to go on this one."

"I don't know what that means." Brennan looked at him blankly, and before anyone could enlighten her, she changed tactics. "If that plan won't work, then I should at least be tagging along with anyone scouting their campsite. Especially Booth, since he would be most capable of taking the shot. If I can get a good look at Moreno, even through binoculars, then he could take the shot right then."

Booth wanted to argue with that idea as well, but he could tell that Jackson was considering it. He forced himself to do the same. Could he protect her in that kind of situation and still do his job? Could he pull that trigger and end another man's life knowing that she was watching? His stomach turned a little at the thought. Booth belatedly realized that he'd never told her he would be the one taking the shot. How did she know?

"I'll think about it, Dr. Brennan," Jackson said placatingly before addressing his men. "For now, we lay low and keep our eyes open. Keep the watch rotation and be ready to move camp again if necessary. Dismissed."

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Booth and Santana were next up in the rotation, and Booth's eyes followed Brennan as she retreated to her tent. She'd given him a loaded glance as she'd turned away, and he shook his head at the stubbornness he'd seen in her expression. It would have amused him if he weren't so concerned about her penchant for recklessness.

As he and Santana scouted the area, Booth's mind remained on Brennan. He hadn't really had time to recover after she'd admitted her somewhat ulterior motives for being there. Her blasé explanation of the risks she took in her daily life had left him stunned and more curious about her than ever.

Of course, the military was full of people who had the same affinity for risk-taking and dangerous situations, and he'd met more than his fair share of them. But it was difficult to imagine how a beautiful genius like her had ever turned into an adrenaline junkie. Had she always been that way or was there some underlying reason for her behavior? Was it rebellion? A coping mechanism of some sort?

Booth was suddenly desperate to know more about her. He craved any detail he could get his hands on. He'd never felt so connected and interested in anyone before, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was truly falling for her. Stupid, he admonished himself silently as he crept through the dense forest with his rifle at the ready. It would be ridiculous to fancy himself in love with a girl he'd just met. But still, she plagued his thoughts…

Didn't she have anyone in her life to keep her from doing dangerous things? She was still so young. What about her parents? Grandparents? Siblings? ...Boyfriend? Booth cringed at the unwelcome thought of her with another man, and he actually had to stifle a growl of disapproval. He'd seen no ring on her finger, but that only meant she was neither engaged nor married…

Santana noticed his distraction and gave him a hard slap to the back of the head. Booth scowled at him but felt immediately contrite for his lack of attentiveness. He forced himself to keep his head in the game, pushing away thoughts of the intriguing Dr. Brennan until they returned to the campsite.

Morris and Leeds took the next watch, and Booth was slightly mollified to note that the latter carried a camera rather a rifle. He hoped that they'd come back with something helpful. Booth had also been hoping to have a word with Jackson about the request Brennan had made in the briefing, but Jackson was occupied at the moment.

As though pulled by some invisible magnetic force, Booth's feet carried him toward Brennan's tent. She was sitting cross-legged in the opening with a notebook on her lap, sketching and making notes that he wouldn't have been able to decipher even if he were close enough to see them properly. His shadow fell upon the white page, and she squinted up at him curiously.

She'd been irritated with him for about twenty minutes after he and Santana had disappeared into the woods, but the feeling had quickly dissipated, replaced by one of concern for his safety. He had seemed to disapprove of her risk-taking, but in her opinion, Booth was in no position to judge. He regularly volunteered for dangerous missions like this.

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly. Brennan gave him a half smile and a nod, moving to the side and gesturing an invitation into her tent. Booth was pleasantly surprised by the action, having expected her to join him rather than the opposite. He ducked through the enclosure, glancing at the well-organized interior as he sat down across from her. The tent flap fell closed, effectively isolating them from the view of anyone who might be watching, and the atmosphere changed immediately. The charge between them was palpable, and the strange magnetism compelled them closer to one another.

"Is everything okay?" Brennan asked, trying to ignore the obvious tension between them.

"Yeah, I just wanted to continue our discussion from earlier."

"Which part?" she inquired, her brow crinkling in the center. Booth responded with a teasing smile.

"The crazy things you do for fun."

"What about them?" she grinned back. He hesitated, his smile slipping a little.

"You say you do it for the adrenaline, but… I don't understand how someone like you is a closet adrenaline junkie."

"I don't know what that means," she frowned.

"I mean… You're taking unnecessary risks with your safety, possibly putting your own life in jeopardy, even just by being here with us. And I know you're smart enough to understand that, so… Why do you do it?"

Brennan stiffened, feeling more than a little reluctant to spill her life story to a man she'd just met. She felt an undeniable connection to Booth, but after so many years of keeping things to herself, the idea of letting someone into her past was intimidating.

"I have my reasons," she shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "No offense, but I just met you. And besides, how is it all that different from what you do? You're a Ranger. A sniper. You take huge risks with your life all the time. Why are you like that?"

Booth blinked in surprise at having his own question thrown back at him. He supposed that he could've answered with any of the typical one-liners he gave in response to that question when it came from a woman, but instead he felt compelled to be honest with her. He couldn't very well expect her to let him in when he'd offered up nothing of himself.

"It's what I'm good at," he replied softly, and even he could hear the trace of shame in his voice. Yes, he sneered inwardly, I'm good at being a killer. "I was planning to go to college on an athletic scholarship, but I was injured my freshman year. After that, I decided to follow in my grandfather's footsteps and join the military. I'm a third generation soldier, so it wasn't all that surprising to find that I was good at it. The Rangers was the best fit for me."

"Your 'grandfather's footsteps?'" Brennan asked, noting the odd discrepancy. "But one of your parents was in the military as well?" Booth looked away for a moment at the implied reference to his father, but once again, he found himself telling her the truth.

"My dad was an abusive alcoholic," he admitted. "My grandparents raised me and my brother for the most part. My grandmother died a few years ago, so it's just Pops now, but he's more of a father to me than my real one ever was." He met her eyes hesitantly, and although she was looking at him with compassion, he was relieved to see no trace of pity in her eyes.

"What about your mother?"

"She disappeared a long time ago. Packed up a few things and left while Jared and I were at school. I think she just couldn't take it anymore." Brennan winced at the desolation in his voice, feeling even more sympathy for him. It seemed their circumstances weren't so very different after all.

"My mother died when I was eight," she said quietly. "Her body was found in our car on the side of the road a few weeks before Christmas. The police said she was murdered, but the case is still open. My father was determined to find out what had happened to her. He was angry with the cops for dragging their feet, angry at her for dying, angry at… the world, I guess. He disappeared less than a month after she died. I haven't seen him since." Booth reached across the space to grasp her hand, offering his silent support and willing her to continue. "I had a brother, Russ… he was older. We both went into the foster care system and were separated almost right away.

"When he aged out, he petitioned for custody of me, but social services denied it. Said he couldn't offer me a stable home and that I was better off in a foster home." Brennan rolled her eyes at the incredibly flawed logic of those social workers. She'd have happily lived under a bridge with Russ if it meant being together and getting away from abusive foster parents. "He didn't give up though," she smiled sadly. "He got two jobs, trying to save enough money to prove that he could provide for me. But then… while he was walking home from work one night, he was mugged. They were teenagers, and they were high at the time. There were three of them, and there was a struggle. Russ suffered a head injury and died almost instantly. I was thirteen."

"I'm so sorry, Bones," Booth said, his voice low with empathy. She nodded her thanks and forced herself to go on.

"You asked why I do...the things I do," she sighed, sorting out her tangled memories. "I was so sure that when Russ turned eighteen, we'd be together again. That I'd have my family back, even if it were just the two of us. When he died, I felt like I'd lost everything. I was stuck in a house with foster parents who were sometimes physically abusive and frequently verbally abusive. I was two years younger than the kids I went to school with, and everyone thought I was a freak. I just...went numb. I stopped feeling, stopped caring, stopped living. For a little while, I was grateful for the reprieve, but eventually I became desperate to feel something, anything.

"Then one day, I had the opportunity to help another student who was being bullied by a group of older boys. One of them pushed me, and I hit him. I'd never really hit anyone before that, and it was just…"

"Exciting," Booth supplied knowingly. He'd felt a similar rush the first time he'd taken a swing at his father to defend his younger brother.

"Yes," she agreed. Her smile lit her face once more, like the sun clearing a stormy sky. "Anyway, after that, I did pretty much whatever I could to feel that way again. I stayed away from drugs and anything illegal because of what happened to Russ, but I developed a habit of getting myself into… interesting situations. One of my teachers eventually noticed a pattern and got me to open up about things. He had a second job as a karate instructor, and he offered to teach me. He gave me free lessons after school a few days a week."

"So you know karate?" he grinned.

"I have black belts in three styles of martial arts."

"Damn," he laughed. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"That would be wise," she chuckled warmly.

"And the other stuff, the motorcycle racing and cliff diving…?"

"That came later. I got my first bike after I graduated high school."

"At what? Sixteen?" he said incredulously. Brennan merely smiled wider and nodded. "How were you able to make it on your own at that age?"

"I wasn't entirely on my own by that point. Things are a little different now, but back then, foster care in that state ended with high school graduation or reaching the age of eighteen - whichever came first. My last foster mom was a good one though. Her name was Molly, and she was a widow. She took in foster kids so that she could help them and so that she wouldn't be lonely. Molly let me stay with her after I graduated, and I had a full academic scholarship to Northwestern. I worked part time, saved money, went to school… By the time I turned eighteen, I was finishing my undergraduate degree, and I was able to work as a teaching assistant and live on my own. Molly helped me buy my first motorcycle so that I could get back and forth to class. It was more affordable than a car."

Booth gazed at her, feeling slightly awed. He wondered vaguely what expression was on his face, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. Every time he learned something new about her, he seemed to fall for her a little more. She was stronger than he'd realized. Maybe even stronger than she realized. She was a kindred spirit, a fighter, just like him. As he stared at her beautiful features, he could only find the coherency to articulate two words.

"You're amazing."

Brennan gave him a shy smile, and their eyes darted simultaneously downward to each other's mouths. The air was thick with electricity again, and they had somehow drifted even closer together.

Without stopping to weigh the consequences, they closed the distance, meeting halfway as their lips touched. For a few brief moments the kiss was soft and gentle, but as their breathing accelerated, their passion grew as well. Their tongues teased, their hands wandered, and their hearts raced. When the need for oxygen finally forced them apart, Brennan was surprised to find herself in his lap. She didn't recall how she'd gotten there. As they gasped for air, their eyes remained locked on one another. Brown on blue.

"Sorry," Brennan murmured, attempting to move from his lap. Booth held her in place with one arm and lifted the other to touch his fingertips to her swollen lips.

"Don't apologize," he replied, shaking his head with a gentle smile. "I've wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you." Brennan smiled against his fingers.

"Me too," she whispered.

Again, he captured her mouth with his own, and although there was less urgency, the kiss was just as passionate as the last. Time seemed to stretch endlessly. It could have been hours, days even. Or perhaps time had simply stopped altogether. They held each other tightly. She stroked the coarse stubble of his jaw, and he buried his fingers in her hair.

"Booth!" an unwelcome voice called from outside the tent. "The Major's looking for you." Brennan met Booth's gaze and smiled ruefully.

"Later," he promised, stealing one more quick kiss. She grinned back at him and nodded.

"Later."

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So we've learned some more about Brennan's background, and our couple has had their first kiss. I'd love to hear whatever thoughts you'd like to share. This story is quite a bit shorter than my previous ones. Just 9 chapters and a nice, fluffy epilogue.

More tomorrow! Review pretty please!