A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I only own the characters that do not usually appear in the show.

Author's notes: I'm glad to see from the reviews that you all are still enjoying this story. I'm not sure when I'll get to the fluffiness and comfort but I assure you I will! Just hang in there! Be sure to press the review button and let me know what you think!

To 'elliot02uk' (Jean B.)—I had already used 'sable gaze' to describe Booth's beautiful eyes so I went with chocolate…why that reminded you of Ricky Martin--well, I'll have a Brennan moment and just say "I don't know what that means". (LOL) As for the "(a smile) graced her lips/face" part of your comment, I don't know that it's an American thing but it's a phrase that I've heard most of my life and read in other stories. Interesting observation…maybe it is an American thing. Anyway, I hope you still enjoy the story.

And a special shout out to BonesDBchippie—Your faith in my ability to update soon spurred forth the following chapter which I found time to write on a midnight shift, after coming off an evening shift….rotating shifts are a killer! If you find the chapter terrible, I blame sleep deprivation.

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"Oh Lord," Elaine Thompson gasped, her face slowly draining of color. "Is that why…?"

Booth's hand left Brennan's back as he stepped forward to help the elderly woman. "Ma'am, may we come in and speak to you?"

Unable to speak, Elaine nodded and allowed Booth to assist her to the grand living room area. Brennan tagged along behind them, watching as Natalie exited the living room and sauntered outside to the pool.

A small middle-aged woman appeared behind Brennan, startling her slightly. "Mrs. Thompson, are you okay? Is there is anything I can get for you?"

"Can you get her a glass of water please?" Booth asked as he helped Elaine to one of the large sofas in the room.

The woman nodded and hurriedly left without asking any further questions. "That was Maggie," Elaine said as she found her voice. "She helps me around the house…with the children and everything."

Booth nodded, keeping a close eye on the woman. Brennan walked slowly around the room, taking in the large and obviously expensive pieces of art completing the elegant décor. She glanced out the large French doors on the other side of the room that lead to a large patio area and noticed a small boy sitting with a man.

Maggie reentered the room and handed the glass of water to Elaine. "Here you go."

"Maggie, please sit," Elaine patted the cushion next to her. "These people are from the FBI."

"Actually I'm from the FBI…I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this," he glanced over at Brennan who was standing by a grand piano mesmerized by something outside, "is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"The writer?" Maggie questioned.

"The forensic anthropologist-slash-writer…the anthropologist thing a little more important at the moment," Booth stated. He looked over at Brennan again and noticed that she was not paying attention. "Bones," he whispered to get her attention.

"Who's the man sitting outside with your grandson?" Brennan asked.

"That's Dr. Keaton," Elaine replied. "Joshua has had a difficult time since…" Her voice cracked slightly as she again contemplated what Booth and Brennan's presence in her home signified. "Dr. Keaton is a child psychologist. He has sessions with Joshua two times a week. Joshua has not spoken to anyone for two years now."

Brennan looked over at Booth who rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh man," he mumbled.

"Are my son and his wife…dead?" The older woman grabbed Booth's forearm.

"I'm sorry," Booth whispered. "Dr. Brennan and her team were able to positively identify the remains that were found in an area around the lake as those of Ronald and Katherine."

Tears flowed from Elaine Thompson's eyes as Maggie moved closer and placed her arms around the older woman. "Oh no, Elaine, I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry."

Brennan watched as the women cried together and realized that she was envious of their ability to release their emotions, their sorrow, over the loss of loved ones. She turned her attention back to the patio area and the small boy who was drawing something as Dr. Keaton spoke to him.

Sniffling, Elaine wiped the tears that were streaming down her face. "I need to tell the children." Her eyes, still moist with tears, locked with Booth's. "How do you tell two children that their parents are never coming home again?"

Feeling her knees begin to buckle at the question, Brennan quickly moved to a large plush chair that was adjacent to the sofa and took a seat. Breathe, breathe…this is not about you, she tried to convince herself.

Booth noticed how shaky Brennan appeared as she sat down. Narrowing his eyes, he watched her hands grasp the plush sides of the chair and then slowly relax. He reluctantly returned his attention to Elaine and addressed her question.

"Well, it seems that Natalie already knows." He looked outside past Brennan and saw the teenager diving into the pool, seeming not to have a care in the world.

Elaine waved her hand dismissively at his comment. "Natalie was in the mindset from day one that her parents were never returning. She puts on a good show but…anyway, thankfully she has me, Maggie and her boyfriend, Billy, to help her through this."

"That's good. It's good that she has a support system, people she can trust." Booth gazed over at Brennan as he spoke, his words as much for her as for Elaine Thompson. "At some point, in the next few days, I will need to speak with Natalie…"

"But..," Elaine interrupted. Booth held his hand up.

"It's just a part of the investigation. I promise that you can be present with her while Dr. Brennan and I talk to her. Sheriff Fife said that Natalie and Joshua saw their parents that night before they disappeared. I just want to get a feel of the type of mood they were in…that kind of stuff."

"Sheriff Fife," Elaine snorted disdainfully.

Booth and Brennan locked eyes, both noticing Elaine's tone of voice. "You, uh, have a problem with the sheriff?" Booth questioned, already knowing from Fife himself that she did.

"Yes, you could say that. I'm fairly certain he was having an affair with Katherine," Elaine stated forcefully. "My son's marriage was shaky when they disappeared and I'm not afraid to say that Michael Fife had something to do with that!"

"With their disappearance?" Brennan asked. She could certainly buy the possibility of Fife and Katherine having an affair—the man was obviously a flirt—but she couldn't see the easy going sheriff as a murderer. Then again, she had not imagined Booth's FBI buddy Kenton capable of kidnapping and planning to kill her, so Brennan decided to remain open to any possibility.

"Definitely with their marriage troubles," she replied vehemently. "And I wouldn't put it past him to have killed them."

Once again, Booth and Brennan looked at each other, both realizing that the sheriff's "wayward past" would now be a pertinent part of the case.

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Exiting the house, Booth and Brennan found the sheriff leaning casually against the back of his patrol car. Booth stalked over to him, pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and studied the other man. "We need to have a little talk, Sheriff Fife," he said through gritted teeth.

Fife nodded his head, his eyes wandering to the front door where Elaine Thompson stood glaring at him. "Yes, Agent Booth, we do need to talk but not here. If you and Dr. Brennan are ready, you can follow me to Ronald and Katherine's house."

Booth pushed his sunglasses back up and signaled for Brennan to get in the SUV. "What did he say?" she asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

"He doesn't want to talk here…in front of Mrs. Thompson."

Brennan looked out the window, noting Elaine Thompson's deadly stare following Sheriff's Fife car down the driveway. "From the look she gave him, I can't blame him."

The forty minute drive to the Thompson house was uneventful with the agent and the anthropologist each lost in their own thoughts.

They followed the sheriff's car down a long gravel road to a small two story white farmhouse with blue shutters. "This is a nice place…not as fancy as grandma's house but nice," Booth observed.

"And secluded," Brennan added.

The couple quickly climbed out of the SUV and followed Fife up the stairs to the front porch. The sheriff bent down, picked up a small turtle figurine and removed the key attached to the bottom.

"Awfully familiar with where things are, huh?" Booth raised his eyebrows at the sheriff.

Without acknowledging Booth's sarcasm, Fife unlocked the front door and gestured for Brennan to proceed into the house. As she passed him, she reached into the pocket of her blue jeans and removed a pair of gloves.

Booth grabbed Fife's arm as he attempted to follow Brennan. "Un-uh, 'Dirty Harry', before you go any further you're going to tell me about your 'relationship' with Katherine Thompson."

Fife peered into the living room from the doorway and watched as Brennan surveyed the living room, quickly moving through items lying on tables and bookshelves. "My relationship with Katherine ended a long time ago," he said softly.

"Define 'a long time ago' because Elaine Thompson seems to have a different timeline." Booth's gaze followed Fife's and he saw his partner leave the living room and walk toward the dining room area.

"Katherine and I dated in high school. She was a year or so older than me and after she graduated, she moved on to college. We kept in touch and I followed her two years later." Fife stuck his hands in his pockets and lowered his head, appearing deep in thought. "Things were great for awhile and then my financial aid ran out. I had to leave college…leave Katherine. I joined the Army at my father's urging and Katherine promised to wait for me."

"She didn't though, did she?" Booth felt a small pang of sympathy for the man. There was no pain greater sometimes than unrequited love.

Fife shook his head. "I was gone for a year. A measly, miserable year. I injured my back and received an honorable discharge…I came home to find Katherine engaged to Ronald. Do you have any idea what it's like to see the person you love, the person you'd die for, with someone else…living the life you're supposed to be living?"

Booth's mind immediately recalled Brennan and David's first meeting in the interrogation room at the Hoover Building and her instant, obvious attraction to the investment banker. The next moment he unwillingly remembered was Brennan kissing David's cheek in the hallway of the Jeffersonian. Booth felt his jaw tighten as he responded. "Yeah, it's a bitch. But it still doesn't explain why Ronald's mother thinks you and Katherine were having an affair."

The sheriff sighed and ran his hand through his fair hair. "She caught me trying to kiss Katherine one day…in this house. Elaine refused to believe that Katherine was trying to stop me, that she was no longer attracted to me. Elaine later told Ronald what happened…their marriage started deteriorating after that."

"Did you and Ronald have words?"

"In a way…," Fife said.

Booth let out a frustrated sigh. "Gee, could you be a little more vague?"

"A man doesn't have to say a lot when he's got a shotgun trained on you. You tend to get the message pretty fast."

Booth's surprised expression caused the sheriff to smile. "People aren't always what they seem on paper, agent."

"Booth!" Brennan's voice brought Booth's attention back to the interior of the house. He hurriedly entered the living room and traced the path she had taken through the dining room.

"Bones, where are you?"

"In the study," she replied. He followed the sound of her voice and located her in a large room containing a desk and a gun cabinet that lined one whole wall of the room. Booth let out a low whistle as he walked toward the cabinet that held a multitude of different caliber weapons.

"Damn, now that's a gun collection."

"Is it a collection or an arsenal?" Brennan questioned as she stood beside Booth, peering through the glass at the various weapons.

"It's a collection," Fife confirmed behind them. "Ronald loved guns. He went to a gun show at least twice a month. It was a hobby and he registered every one of those with my office, in case you were wondering."

Brennan nodded as she walked toward the door of the study. "I'm going to take a look around upstairs."

She left the two men in the study and ascended the stairs, locating three bedrooms on the second story. Brennan entered the master bedroom and studied the family photographs that had been taken during happier times. The room reminded Brennan of a shrine—one that hadn't been touched or gazed upon in years. She wondered if the Thompsons' children had crawled into their parent's bed the first night that Ronald and Katherine didn't come home. She remembered going into her parent's room and throwing herself on their bed, finding minimum comfort in the lingering scent of her mother and father.

The sudden chest pain and shortness of breath did not take Brennan completely by surprise but it still didn't prepare her for the intensity of the panic attack that struck her at that moment. She lowered herself into a sitting position on the bed and closed her eyes, willing the attack to go away. As her breathing evened out, she grappled with her bag and removed the prescription bottle and a small bottle of water.

Although her hands were shaky, Brennan was able to remove one of the small tablets and quickly downed it. As she was placing the prescription bottle back in the bag, Booth rounded the corner and stopped short.

"Bones?" He slowly entered the room, eyeing her carefully.

"Just taking something for a headache…catching my breath…" She smiled weakly at him.

"Why didn't you mention your headache earlier?" Booth looked into her eyes and knew she was lying.

She shrugged, attempting to regain her composure. "It's not a big deal."

"Bones…," he began to question her, only to be interrupted by Fife.

"Findin' anything of interest up here?" He ambled into the room, oblivious to the slight tension between the two partners.

"Nothing related to the case," Booth mumbled.

"Are you two headin' back to DC this evening?"

"Yeah, there's another case we're looking into," Booth answered, his eyes never leaving Brennan. "We've got to get back, see if Brennan's team has come up with anything."

Brennan stood slowly, still orienting herself after the bout of panic, and moved toward the door. "Booth's right, we should be going."

They walked back down the stairs, through the living room and exited the house. As they moved toward the vehicles, Booth spied an object off to his right and slowly walked around the corner of the house to investigate with Brennan and Fife trailing behind him.

"That's one hell of an outdoor shooting range," Booth stated as he took in the full sized targets set up in the backyard.

"There's only one thing Ronald liked better than collectin' guns—shootin' them," Fife said.

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Darkness fell quickly as the sun sank into the horizon. Booth switched on his headlights and looked over at his partner who was once again asleep in the passenger's seat. Brennan's head was leaning against her window and her arms were wound tightly around her bag, as though it was her anchor in her deep slumber.

Turning his eyes back to the road, Booth pondered what was wrong. Her behavior, her shakiness and now her seemingly new ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat were cause for great concern in his opinion. He knew the headache excuse was just that—an excuse. Booth knew when Brennan really had a headache—her eyes appeared weary and she rubbed her temples or the back of her neck, depending on where the headache had settled. And she never, ever took prescription medicine for them.

No, at the moment, Booth didn't have a clue what was going on with his partner but he sure as hell intended to find out.