Disclaimer: All characters portrayed here are fictional. No infringement of rights intended. Bones & its characters are a product of & not mine. No financial gain is received from this work of fiction.

Summary: Pelant's vile rampage starts to bite deep. Can the Team pull together to bite back? Remember reader, "Nothing is as it seems…" - Seeley Booth.

Rating Please note: This chapter is rated T but the story is M in parts.

Thanks: to those still reading and sticking with me on this one. Kudos. XX

Pelant

Chapter VII

Christopher Pelant's Residence

Fifty Minutes After The Explosion.

The heavy thumps on his door and shouts of, 'FBI - open up!' made Pelant smirk, and his stomach tingle with excitement. He'd been expecting this interruption to his productive day. 'FBI - open this door!'

As he rose nonchalantly from his couch to answer the persistent rattling, he thought it appropriate to leave the TV on and the CNN news feed of the aftermath. Pelant wanted to see their expressions of outrage and horror: he wanted to see their pain and struggling for emotional control; it made him feel the omnipotence of his genius scheme.

He dropped his smirk, and put on an expression of mild surprise as he opened the door, after unhooking the chain. Pelant stepped back to allow them in without prejudice. 'What's this about?' he asked calmly. Two armed and vested FBI officers stepped over the threshold followed by Agent Flynn, who ambled in like an old friend after wiping his feet on his mat. The Agents scanned the room, TV channel and him, then they spread out around the room like sentries. Pelant surreptitiously kept one eye on them as Flynn responded to his enquiry.

'Don't you know, Christopher?' Flynn asked coolly, pushing his hands into his pants pockets. Pelant shook his head, settling back to the couch comfortably, with an audible sigh. 'If you've been watching the TV news - you should've been expecting us…' Pelant snagged his head back, faking confusion effortlessly. Flynn rose an informative brow towards the TV, playing along for now.

Pelant liked this particular Agent on his case: he was handsomely arrogant; competent, polite, ice cold, and barely showed his real emotions, which reminded him of someone he admired - himself. 'Why? Oh. Wait - you think that dreadful explosion had something to do with me?' he fawned as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, treading a fine line. 'My lawyer might take this visit as harassment, in that case. If you bothered to check you'd find I've been in all day.'

Flynn nodded, and gestured to the couch to ask permission to sit next to him. With a nod Pelant allowed it, but was on his guard instantly. Flynn sat next to him, and slumped back, crossing his ankles in a relaxed pose, as he informed casually, 'Ohhh. We did check, Christopher,' while watching the repeated TV coverage of the explosion. Pelant scrutinised his face, and felt the tension rise in his muscles when Flynn grinned hard at him suddenly, then sat up shoulder to shoulder with him. 'You see, we know you were here because that tag told us you were.' Flynn pointed to it with a flippant wave of his limp hand but duplicity in his eyes. 'But here's the thing, Christopher…' he deliberately paused, and leant into Pelant's shoulder slightly as he explained, 'Unfortunately, that lightening storm fried a few electrical circuits apparently and knocked out the transformer between here and the monitoring station - and guess what?'

Pelant hadn't thought to check if there had been an interruption in the signal, and swallowed his unease, feeling his stomach toss and his pulse quicken. But he didn't allow his body to betray his real emotions despite his adrenalin surge. 'What?'

'Well -,' Flynn went on cannily, 'when the system came back online all the pretty lights, bells and whistles started screaming that you weren't here. What do you make of that, Christopher?'

Pelant thought quickly. 'Well, obviously it was a computer glitch. I was here.'

'Yes, so you say.' Flynn grinned at Pelant, noting the tiniest twitch in his left cheek just below his eye. The message had been sent, Flynn thought and noted; Pelant knew, he knew he was responsible for the bomb and the death. But he also knew they didn't have enough evidence to arrest him for it.

'What does the monitoring station say now?' Pelant parried, confident that his program must have come back online.

'Ohhh. It says you're here but there were eight minutes when you weren't - or you removed your tag.' Flynn didn't look into his eyes as he spoke this time, but could smell Pelant's scent thicken. He let that fact sink in before he added coyly, 'That's the tricky bit, you see? Eight minutes is no where near enough time for you to get over to Agent Shaw's home, plant a bomb which killed a Jeffersonian employee and severely injured two brave members of our nation's Bomb Squad, and get back here. Its completely impossible.'

'No, eight minutes isn't long at all.'

'No… But it does tell us some things of consequence.'

'Like what, Agent Flynn?'

'Well, it implies the tag you're wearing has been tampered with or its signal, and that you were indeed out of this residence for sometime this afternoon.'

'Yes, it must look that way. Or…' Flynn looked deep into his eyes, waiting for his explanation. 'It could be that the electrical surge screwed up the program, and gave the monitoring station false information.' Flynn nodded slowly as if to accept that was indeed what happened, observing Pelant's stalwart expression at close quarters. 'I'm certain I could find that anomaly if I were given the opportunity to study the corrupted data. I'd be happy to assist the FBI in any way I can.'

Flynn beamed at Pelant for his underplayed sycophantic remark. 'I don't doubt that, Christopher! You're a master with computer code and all things technical, I understand,' he flattered his ego deliberately. 'Me? I'm useless. I can barely text message! Hahahaa!' Flynn then stood, motioning to the Agents to leave, which they did ahead of him. 'Well, I'm sorry to intrude on your day, Christopher. Thanks for the chat and have a pleasant evening. We'll be in touch.' Pelant relaxed, happy to see them leaving.

As Flynn was almost out the door shadowed by Pelant, he paused to say, 'Oh. I nearly forgot - the local PD are outside. They're going to remove that tag - there's no point in you wearing it now. It's obviously faulty or been compromised in some way, as you pointed out.' With that two police officers came to the door with pleasant smiles, ready to remove the tag from his ankle. This was a twist Pelant was not expecting or had calculated in his set of variables, and it threw him for a moment.

'Shouldn't that be done at the station?' he hedged.

'It could, but they're here now. Or would you rather we took you down there to remove it?'

'No-no, here's fine - go ahead,' Pelant supplicated quickly, feeling the acid in his stomach quadruple and his pulse shoot up again. Pelant understood he'd been outmanoeuvred in this deadly game of cat and mouse. But he didn't fear the final outcome. He knew he and his lawyer could easily explain away the accusation and cause reasonable doubt about those lost eight minutes to a jury.

Pelant took a seat around his small dining table, and watched as the tag was carefully removed, put in an evidence bag, then into a case the officers had brought with them. Flynn watched on from the threshold with a friendly smile teasing his lips. 'Thank you, that's a load off,' Pelant remarked, then signed the form of release. 'No replacement tag?' he enquired, backhandedly pointing out their ineptitude but not surprised by it.

'No.' Then Flynn pulled the pin from the grenade with a casual, 'The FBI has dropped all the charges of hacking against you. We've informed your lawyer and the courts. You're a free man,' Flynn said pleasantly. 'Good night, Christopher. Sleep well.'

'Does this mean I can leave the house when I like now?'

'Oh. Yes. Please do…' Flynn peered into his eyes, as he slowly closed the door behind him with an unmistakable ghostly smirk on his lips. Pelant stood where he was, and thought about his expression and inflection that Flynn left him with. His equally condescending smile dissipated rapidly, realising Flynn was sending him a warning and a clear invitation. It was obvious he wanted him to leave the house because he could be got at, and moreover, he could now be trailed easily.

Gritting his jaw, incensed, Pelant snatched up a dining chair, and threw it across his lounge with his rage, with a howl of bitterness. The innocent chair smacked into the TV screen and it exploded with a flash of light, Plexiglas and a plume of smoke, clattering to the floor. He no longer had the anonymity he required nor cover for his illicit outings - he was vulnerable. What's more, the FBI were attempting to flush him out and into a mistake. Pelant vowed he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of enjoying this small victory for very long.

He tore off to his covert windowless bunker, and switched on the light. He shut down the purged the phantom tag signal program from his computer; it being obsolete now, and got to work. Sitting on his stool, and letting go his fury in a long exhale; he calmed, scanning the players in the game on his photo wall. Each face he considered meticulously, and eventually honed in on one. A smiled crept across his face with his decision made.

With his brow shimmering with perspiration, he tapped furiously on the keypad, and his eyes narrowed at the code he was writing. 'Time to find out where you and that cute little baby are hiding, Max. I've left you alone for far too long now,' he muttered, with his nostrils flaring. 'I wasn't fooled by that postcard, old man - oh no. Let's see…' Pelant thought out loud as his wily fingers scurried across his laptop, and his mind slammed into top gear; loving the challenge and workout, 'Two tickets, one infant, one adult, brought with an American Express card to Hawaii under the name: Mr Torne and Miss Rosie Ribbons. Ha! Cute, Max, very cute. On the carrier Continental. Humm. If I were you though, and on the run, I would have stayed well away from the airports and pay cash for any tickets. I'd want to be a moving target - umm. A train maybe - cab - private jet?' he ruminated, staring off into space, then, 'Noooo, a boat, and being very sick you'd want a comfortable ride, right? A cruise ship - yes. But you'd pay cash, wouldn't you, Max? Course you would…' He tapped up the passenger manifests of several cruise liners that had left the Caribbean in the last week, and read through the names and how the trips were paid for. Several matched his logical criteria: by a process of elimination one stood out like a throbbing sore thumb. 'Arrrh. Gotcha. That didn't take long…' He sat back, admiring his own efficient genius with a smug excited smile. 'You've underestimated me, you sick old man,' he sneered.

Physically excited by the prospect of inflicting more carnage, Pelant avidly watched himself type with one hand while the other freed his erection from his pants, and began to pump his sticky cock.

!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!

Two Blocks Away From Pelant's Residence

FBI SUV

Another FBI pool vehicle pulled up behind Caroline and Booth. Flynn got out, and came to the window as it was rolled down by the trauma-hardened face of Caroline. Flynn acknowledge Booth with a respectful nod, noting his blood-soaked hands were drying and his clothes changed colour by it. 'We got the tag, the officers will take it directly to the Jeffersonian labs now.' Caroline nodded.

'What did he say?'

'Nothing much, but I could tell he was spooked. I left him with a veiled warning. I've ordered twenty four seven surveillance. He'll be tailed too when he leaves the premises.' Caroline nodded again.

Booth confessed softly, looking utterly parallaxed by events, 'You need to interview me…' Flynn's brow wrinkled into a question, which Booth answered, 'Pelant called me before the bomb went off. He said it was my fault - I shouldn't have answered the call.' Booth dropped his eyes to his lap, and his blackened hands.

Caroline was quick to reassure, sensing him oozing guilt. 'Cher, it wasn't your fault, this is his sick doing. We'll trace the call.' Booth shook his head, knowing that would lead nowhere.

'He'll of thought of that. He's too smart to make that mistake. Tell him, Caroline, tell him what Shaw said,' Booth encouraged her to disclose the rest.

Caroline sighed, and looked into Flynn's eyes. 'Agent Shaw said they traced the fingerprints found on the paper and door bell - they matched Booth's…'

Flynn flicked his eyes to his crumbling colleague, and then dropped them to his highly polished brogues. 'Look - I get what Pelant's doing here, Booth - I really do,' he said sympathetically. 'And I will interview you - but tomorrow. You need to get home and cleaned up. We can take it from here.' Caroline wholeheartedly agreed with Flynn with a solid nod, then looked to Booth with his head hanging, hoping he would agree.

'He's right, Cher. I'm taking you home.'

'No, not yet - I need to be with Sweets,' Booth said, sounding broken and frail and looking precisely that too. Then he murmured, 'He's got no one now…'

Caroline shrugged a shoulder at Flynn, not surprised by Booth's reluctance to go home. 'Ok, Booth. I'll call you tomorrow to arrange the interview. Tell Sweets…' Flynn trailed off just as Booth nodded, understanding what Flynn wanted to pass on to the young psychologist.

Caroline started the car. Flynn stepped back, and watched her drive up the street and away. Almost immediately Caroline's cell rang out. She'd already put it into the hands free unit, and answered it. 'Talk to me!' she barked, turning onto the freeway with Booth, silent and absent beside her.

'We're at the crime scene. Ange has gone to be with Sweets. How's Booth?'

'How d'ya think! He's beside me!'

'Why are you shouting?'

'My ears are still ringing - its hard to hear ya!'

'Ok - sorry. Did they get the tag off Pelant?'

'Yeah, its being delivered to the lab, pronto - Agent Flynn is escorting it right now.'

'Good. We've sent Wendell back there. Booth - is there anyway you can get to speak to Doctor B tonight? I'm worried about her - she saw it all on TV and she's worried about you too...' Booth rested his head on the window, and closed his eyes. Caroline saw his tears leak from under his closed eyes, and prepared to intervene. 'She-she was, well, you understand what I'm trying to say. If she can hear your voice or something - just talk with you maybe she'll feel less…'

Caroline interceded quickly, 'Ok, Blue Eyes. We know what you're saying. Keep us updated.'

'Count on it. I gotta go. Bye.'

'Bye, Cher!' With ever increasing glances to Booth's pitiful state, Caroline rolled her head on her shoulders with her sympathy, especially when he broke down completely, and sobbed into his blood-blackened hands without shame. Caroline changed their direction and her mind without consultation.

!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!

Virtually wept out, Booth finally opened his eyes when Caroline turned off the engine. He looked to her with an expression of incredulity. 'Why are we here, you said you were taking me to Sweets?'

'I did, Cher, but you can't go to him like that.' She'd taken him back home. 'You're gonna get cleaned up first - don't even think of fighting me on this.' She swung herself out of the car, and paced up the drive, not waiting for his arguments. Booth was slow to follow, but realising he had little fight left in him, eventually joined her on the step. He fumbled slowly for his keys, then opened the door. Caroline headed straight for the kettle, and switched it on, commanding, 'Go shower, I've got some calls to make.' Without a word Booth slowly headed off to the bathroom watched secretly by Caroline, as she hunted out two mugs and the coffee.

Tapping in a number on her cell, she tucked it under her ear, then spooned coffee into the mugs. 'Tony - its Caroline - you know all those favours you owe me - I'm calling one in now...'

!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!

When Booth came out of the shower Caroline was sat on their bed, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. She'd placed his on the night stand and he could smell the small comfort of something other than death, blood and tears in the air.

She stood, noting his red rimmed eyes and their puffiness plus a few kicks and grazes on his face and forearms he'd collected today, but nothing serious. 'You look better - do you feel it?' Booth waggled his head noncommittally, making straight for the coffee, and sat down on the bed too, to drink it. Caroline checked the time on his night stand clock, saying, 'In approximately four minutes the house phone will ring. Answer it - you'll have five minutes. Make the most, Cher.' With that cryptic statement aired, she paced out of the bedroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts. After three minutes he'd worked it out, and felt his heart rate escalate in anticipation of the phone ringing.

On the second ring he picked it up but was unable to say anything of worth to her - what could he say? he questioned himself. She'd lost yet another intern to this dangerous quest they were on and he couldn't prevent the loss. He couldn't console or hold her this time, nor reiterate the complexities of love and hate: the unfairness of living and dying. The excruciating pain of grief he knew she was feeling and the impotence she was experiencing were his burdens too. Like irons around his shoulders they weighed him down. The principle he held dear and high: having faith that good always won out in the end was now in tatters. That notion had been just a noble assumption, not a fact.

'Booth?' He nodded, unable to respond yet, but relieved to hear her voice although it was cracked and weak. 'Booth - are you there?' He nodded again, with tears boiling up in his eyes, and chewed his bottom lip. There was an elongated silence which was filled with need, remorse, and complete understanding between them. They didn't rush the moment but felt it, and grieved together in the desolate silence.

Feeling his heartbreak in the numbness, as well as her own, Bones ventured softly, 'I saw it all. You did what you could. I'm so sorry I can't be there to hold you. Please, talk to me, Booth - please,' she pleaded for a reply now, needing to hear his voice.

Wiping away a stream of tears from his cheeks, he bleated, 'Sorry-sorry, I'm here. I-I couldn't save her, Bones…'

She attempted to swallow the lump in her throat, then sighed empathetically, 'I know… You tried so hard - so valiantly.'

'I'm sorry I left you - I shouldn't have left you.'

'You had to. I understand you had to try and save Agent Shaw. Its who you are and what I admire in you so much.'

'No, you don't understand, Bones. Pelant called me just before it went off and said I shouldn't have answered my cell - answering it set the bomb off.' Bones heart broke for him, and could almost taste his inevitable guilt and responsibility.

'He's obviously studied your psyche, Booth. He knew you would come - he waited for you to arrive there. I can't tell you not to feel guilty because I know you will whatever I say, but trust me, no one else will think you are.'

Little did Bones realise that wasn't wholly true in the circumstances, so Booth brought her up to date with, 'They found fingerprints on the paper. I recognised the pattern, Bones. Remember that paper I wrapped your Christmas stocking gifts in, that you laughed at?'

'Yes, with the snowman and elves urinating in the snow.' Booth grinned, just, hearing her recall the lighter memory from a few short months ago, and imagined her delicate smile her tone implied.

'Yeah. They were my fingerprints… I expect he took the paper from the cupboard when he planted the bugs,' Booth surmised, looking around the room as if it felt dirty now Pelant had violated it. He noted too that the bedside clock showed three minutes had lapsed since she called.

Bones knew this misplaced guilt was going to crush him out of existence, and that terrified her. There was little more she could say to him at this point and with time not on their side, she gently changed the subject, not wanting to talk about Pelant. It seemed essential at this point, despite their grief, to reaffirm their love for one another, in case they didn't get the chance again. They both knew at anytime, one or both of them, could be snuffed out just like Daisy or Vincent had been. So Bones asked sweetly, 'Where are you, Booth?' She rested her head on her arm outstretched on the table, and closed her eyes to imagine him.

The man whose cell she'd been handed, hovered nervously outside the door, sneaking glances to her every few moments, and checking his watch religiously.

'I'm at home. Caroline brought me back to clean up before I go to be with Sweets for a while.' She wasn't surprised to hear that he was going to be with Sweets, in fact, she expected nothing less of him, and nodded.

'In our bedroom?'

'Yeah, on our bed…' He looked slowly around the room then over the bed. 'I miss you so much - sleeping beside me, Bones…' Bones eyes blistered now, as she nodded mute, empathising totally. 'The way you drape yourself over me and hold me all night.' Booth lay down to the covers, as he continued, 'I miss waking up with you with the sun on your face.' He caressed the smooth, empty pillow beside him; where she should be. 'And I love when you open your eyes and smile at me as if I'm better than your dreams.' Bones smiled at his perception.

'I miss your embrace too - how you caress my back in your sleep. How safe I feel in your arms, and how unconditional your affection is. You are my dreams manifest, Booth.'

Touched beyond measure, Booth closed his eyes to her soft voice in his ear, and imagined her whispering that as she lay beside him. 'Oh. Bones, what are we gonna do - its such a wreck? We can't take much more of this before we implode. My prayers aren't working either - it just keeps getting…' Booth wiped his eyes again, and took a deeper ragged breath. He dragged her pillow into his chest, and crushed it to him.

'Don't give in, Booth,' she interrupted, almost hearing defeat in his words and his faith slipping. 'Don't let him have the satisfaction of beating us. I'm trusting you to do alone because I know you can without me beside you.'

Seeing the man outside the door tapping his watch face, and gesturing to her to wrap up her call, Bones rushed to say, 'One other thing, I want to apologise for today; for assuming you arranged the motor home because you needed a physical release.'

'You don't have to apologise for that, Bones.'

'But I do. I realised later you may have thought I saw our relationship, or you, in those shallow terms. I don't ever want you to think I'm only with you because we have Christine together, or that its because we're so well matched physically. I'd love you, Booth with or without Christine in our lives. Don't lose your faith in me, yourself or your God - promise me you won't.'

Booth grinned weakly. 'I promise.'

'I'm sorry - I have to go. Tell Baby Duck I…' It sounded as if she trailed off but in actuality the call had been ended abruptly by a nervous third party.

'I will, Bones. I love you…' Getting no reply, or similar declaration, Booth sagged, and carefully put the phone back on the charger.

!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!

An Hour Later

Sweets & Daisy's Apartment

Caroline pulled up at the apartment block, and looked to Booth. As Booth was exiting the SUV, he noted her not moving to join him.

He queried, 'You coming?' Caroline shook her head, and looked up to the set of window on the third floor. Blinds were dropped on three of them.

'This is a guy-guy situation. I'll wait here - take your time, Cher.' Booth closed the door, and walked up the stoop. He hesitated only slightly before he pushed the relevant apartment button. Caroline heard the door buzz, and watched as Booth went through it, hoping he had the words she didn't to console.

Booth took a deep breath, and blew it out through pursed lips in preparation, then went to tap the dark wooden door but before he did, Sweets opened it. They locked traumatized gazes. Seeing Sweets blood-shot, wet eyes, dishevelled state, and still in the suit he had on earlier, Booth tilted his head in sympathy. Sweets' chin began to quiver, and his eyes fell to the floor along with his tears. Booth stepped over the threshold, and crushed Sweets in his powerful arms, heeling the door closed behind him.

!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!

Two Days After The Explosion

Entering the Suez Canal - Heading South.

Oceanus Cruise Liner

In a dark nefarious cloud of agony, the magnitude of which he'd never experienced before, Max whimpered his pain, with his eyes watering. On his knees over a toilet, he watched as his last spew of vomit hit the pan, and his stomach cramped so hard it felt like he was throwing up his internal organs.

It was late evening or early morning, he thought, but unsure of which: unable to focus on such trivia. He tried desperately not to disturb his companion or his precious ward with his ugly necessary sickness. Empty and weak, he rolled away from the pan after flushing, and collapsed to the cool tiles, resting his wet cheek to it, and took a moment to recover. His spine and kidneys, particularly, throbbed waves of pain throughout his ravaged body. The severe pain made him sick just as much as the toxic cocktail of chemo drugs that were killing off the last of his cancer but almost killing him in the process.

Panting, he looked up when the door opened slowly, and Maria came in without knocking. Max grimaced; ashamed for waking her, his wretched condition, with saliva strings stuck to his chin, and the stench of bile fogging the air. 'Go away - go back to bed,' he instructed, trying to stand up, and regain some semblance of dignity. She ignored him completely, rinsing a face cloth in cool water in the basin. She glanced down to him, and shook her head slightly as she wrung it out. Kneeling down, stopping him from getting up with a gentle hand on his chest, she placed the cool face cloth on his fevered brow.

'Hold it there,' she instructed softly. He did, calmed by the compassionate touch of her hand and the feel of the cloth. She wetted another face cloth, and wiped his face clean, as she chastised, 'You should've woken me. I have drugs to ease your symptoms and sickness.'

'I know but…'

'But nothing. I'm your nurse, Max - let me nurse you. You don't have to feel like this. It is not your penance to feel this sick and be in pain.' Max closed his eyes, and slumped again, too weak to defend or contradict.

'Is Chrissy ok?' he managed, watching her face as she diligently cleaned him up.

'Perfectly. She's fast asleep - don't worry about her. Its you I'm concerned about. What if you'd passed out and hit your head, eh?'

'I didn't so…' Max attempted to get up again but was restrained gently with a hand over his bare torso.

'Stay still, relax - get your breath back.' Max sighed out, and swallowed to moisten his burning throat. Maria poured him a glass of water, then handed it to him.

'I'm sorry -,' he said, closing his eyes as she brushed her fingers over his brow to soothe, 'I'm a bad patient - I hate being sick.' Then he took a sip of water from the glass, and opened his eyes to hers. She smiled, obviously in full agreement with him, and not going to contradict. 'I can't remember, did I make that call or do I have to make the call.'

'You made the call, Max -,' she confirmed, 'and we gave the postcards to those tourists to post for us when they get home. Its all done - don't worry.' Max nodded, and sighed out his obvious relief.

'Has he made contact with him yet?'

'No but as soon as he does, he'll let us know.'

'Sorry about the twenty questions - I'm a little groggy.' Maria nodded, understanding. 'Anything else on the news?'

Maria informed solemnly, 'The young lady's funeral is tomorrow afternoon.' Seeing him nod, she added, 'Lets get you back into bed.' She looped her arm under his, and lifted. Max rose gingerly, and staggered before he found his equilibrium. She bore most of his weight, and they slowly walked into his bedroom.

Max slumped to the bed, and laid back slowly, with an exhausted groan. Maria folded the sheet back over him, then hurried to retrieve his medications. He watched her flit about in her fine satin mint robe with her dark hair free and loose around her shoulders, and thought it a lovely contrast in colours. 'You are to take pain relief and the anti-sickness every three hours. You must drink too, Max. You have dehydrated yourself being sick. Here, take these now. The worst symptoms will start to ease from tomorrow. I will wake you to give you more when…' Max cut her off.

'Stay a while - talk to me, could you? Just till I fall to sleep.' He cupped his hand, threw the pills down his throat, and followed them with a few gulps of water, all the while his eyes never left hers. She could see the hope and need in them.

'Ok,' she said, sitting next to him, and making herself comfortable on the top sheet. Max relaxed, thrilled she was going to stay with him a while longer. 'Lay down now, Max, and close your eyes.' He did both with a deep sigh.

Propping herself up on her side, she smoothed his brow with the cool face cloth. 'That feels great, thanks. Tomorrow we need to arrange a few more ghost plane tickets.'

Maria nodded that she understood, then ventured a question she didn't think he would answer, or at least deflect, 'How are you funding all these fake trails, Max?'

Max explained with a wry smile, opening his eyes to hers, 'A sympathetic friend is helping out and I have some ill-gotten gains to play with.' Maria smiled strongly back, charmed by his brutal honesty. 'Does that worry you?'

'Not at all! If it concerned me I'd never have agreed to come with you.' Max beamed.

'You're my kinda lady, d'ya know that?' He reached for her hand stoking his brow, and kissed the back of it affectionately. Maria's smile weakened slightly, feeling his lips on her skin, while her pulse reacted. Max noted the subtle fading of her smile was usurped with something deeper in her chestnut eyes.

'Close your eyes, Max.' She pecked his brow, returning to soothe it with the face cloth.

'Tsk. You're so bossy - but I like that about ya,' he charmed.

'Sleep,' she insisted, glaring at him as if she was going to spank him if he didn't obey her. Max complied, and closed his eyes on a cheeky smile. Just then there was a violent trembling of the ship that set them ridged. A sudden grating jolt, which nearly knocked them out of bed, set their molar on edge, and seemed to go on for an eternity. Christine began to wail in her crib in the next room, woken by the impact, and the muster alarms blared out. They both sat bolt upright as the liner still juddered and floundered.

Max glared at Maria with his heart stalling, saying gravely, 'He's found us…'

!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!

A/N: *Gasp* Will Max, Maria and Christine swim to safety or drown? Will Booth be arrested for murder? Who is this contact Max spoke of and who will he contact? Is Pelant creepy enough for you? These and other questions will be answered in the next instalments of, Pelant. Reviews always welcomed & replied to. Hugs, Lebxeb. XX.