Chapter Ten
Brennan opened one eye and saw skin. Carefully, she shifted her position as the events of the evening rushed back to her. The storm had passed, and she could hear birds chirping outside. The sun was up, and she risked movement to check her watch. It was seven-thirty in the morning. She did the math in her head, recalling the weather reports they'd been watching before they'd been called away, and recalled that the storm had been predicted to increase its forward momentum when it had hit land. It looked as if the meteorologists had predicted correctly.
Booth had his right arm around her, holding her fast against him. She didn't want to wake him, so she settled back against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. With the dawn would come either their rescue or a retreat to the main park entrance, and she wanted to indulge in her position just a little longer.
If only Angela could see her now, she thought with a smile.
Booth's breathing changed slightly, and she felt him shift under her. She pulled away, gratified when he tightened his hold on her before releasing her.
"Good morning." He smiled at her, sleep still heavy in his eyes. "Sounds like the storm's over."
She nodded and made a move to stand, her cramped muscles protesting. "I hear birds," she commented as she straightened and stretched. "We should probably try to head out of here as soon as possible."
Booth nodded grimly and stretched, standing without accepting her outstretched hand. "If I can't get off the floor," he remarked, "I have no business marching through the woods."
They got busy searching the office for anything that might aid them. Brennan pulled some water bottles from the fridge, and Booth found a spare shirt of Jacob's that almost fit. They were pulling the desk away from the door when Booth held up a hand, stilling Brennan.
"What?" she asked. He held a finger to his lips and gave her a look that plainly said, 'Quiet!' Then she heard it, too -- a truck engine, growing louder.
Brennan's heart began to race. "What if it's Jacobs?" she whispered.
Booth nodded and gestured for her to get back. He ducked under a window and peeked out as the truck pulled up in front of the cabin and the engine died. Brennan watched, waiting for a signal from Booth. She relaxed immediately when he stood to his full height and shouted, "We're in here!"
Back at the hotel, Booth had showered and changed into clean, dry clothes. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he heard Brennan wrapping up a conversation with, he assumed, Angela.
"Jacobs took off in the truck, but Booth had shot him in the leg. He must have nicked an artery and been bleeding pretty badly, because he only got a few miles down the highway when he apparently passed out and went off the road. The truck flipped a couple of times, and he was thrown from the cab. The State Highway Patrol found his body this morning when they were making a pass to see if the roads were clear of debris."
She looked up from the television, which was playing images of the storm damage, and smiled as Booth made his presence known. She patted the bed next to her, and he walked over and joined her.
Brennan nodded and continued, "Yes, the highway patrol found the engraving plates in the car. We searched his truck, the one Booth shot up, and found the old rifle."
Booth nudged her at the 'shot up' comment. She nudged him back. "We're coming home tonight -- soon, in fact. Booth just got out of the shower, so I'm going to jump in, then we're heading to the airport . . . okay . . . I'll see you tomorrow."
Brennan dropped the phone on the bed and flopped back onto the pillows. "I'm exhausted," she admitted. "I don't think I've ever been so glad to be going home -- and I've been in some pretty turbulent locations!"
"You had asked me about the line," Booth said, eliciting her rapt attention. She nodded, and he continued. "I've been thinking about it, and I may have been a little . . . hasty . . . when I said that people in our line of work can't ever have a relationship."
Brennan propped herself up on her elbows and quirked a smile at him. "What exactly are you saying, Agent Booth?"
He looked down at his hands, unable and unwilling to meet her gaze. He was nervous enough as it was. "What I'm saying, Temperance, is that it really doesn't matter whether you and I are in a relationship. Bad things are going to happen, like they did last night. What happened to you had nothing to do with me -- other than that I dragged you down to this God-forsaken place to begin with. Jacobs would have shot at you whether we were together or not. So," he took a deep breath and forged ahead, "I'm asking if you'd like to give it a try. Us. You and me . . . and see what happens."
He looked up to find that she was studying him -- smiling, but still studying with a critical eye. "What happens if it doesn't work out? What happens if we 'give this a try,' and we find out that we're not any good at the relationship thing? Will you be able to work with me without that getting in the way?"
He gave her a lopsided grin. "Will you?"
"Touché." She sat up and hugged her knees. "Are we going to be able to work together while in a relationship? Won't that make things difficult?"
"It hasn't yet," he reasoned. "We've been working together for a few years now and we're in a relationship -- friends, sure -- but that's still a relationship. All we'd be doing is taking things to the next level."
"Okay." She unfolded her legs and rolled off the bed, grabbing her clean, folded clothes from off the top of her suitcase as she passed.
Booth watched her as she walked around the bed and past him without so much as a sideways glace. "Wait! Okay? Just okay?" He sat up straighter and ran an agitated hand through his still damp hair.
Brennan turned and shrugged. "Yeah," she smiled through pursed lips. "Okay."
She turned back toward the bathroom, but this time Booth was quick. "Hold on!" He reached for her arm, grasping her wrist, and turned her to face him. She was still smiling, enigmatically. "I feel like we should commemorate the occasion," he explained.
She tilted her chin up at him and tipped her head to the side in question. "Oh?"
He reached up and placed his hand on her cheek, gratified when she leaned into his touch. He ran his thumb along her jaw, and she smiled slightly, taunting him. "I'm going to kiss you, Bones."
He leaned in and gently brushed her lips with a quick, chaste kiss. When he pulled back, she was grinning. "Nice," she commented.
"Thanks," he replied, running his hand down her neck and onto her shoulder. "Play your cards right . . ."
"And the ego returns." She gently pushed him away. "I have to get in the shower. Finish packing." She stepped back and closed the door.
Booth turned around and nearly tripped over his shoes, which he'd left just inside the door. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Brennan was behind the closed door and hadn't seen his graceful retreat. Hearing the shower turn on, he sighed in relief and returned to his suitcase to prepare for the trip home.
The next morning, Brennan sat at her desk, eyeing the stack of folders that hadn't moved since she'd left the week before. She took the top folder from the stack and opened it, flipping through the pages, but her heart wasn't in it. A tap at her door was a welcome interruption, even more so when she looked up and saw that it was Booth.
"Back at it, I see?" He pointed to the files and whistled. "Did that pile grow while we were gone?"
"It's quite possible," she conceded.
"Sit with me?" he asked.
She stood and joined him on the couch, sitting next to him rather than across from him in one of the arm chairs. "What are you working on today?"
He shrugged. "Nothing, yet, but it's still early. I'm sure before the day is out I'll get a call."
Brennan patted him on the knee, and he slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.
"That's cozy."
Brennan started to pull away, but Booth held her tight. She sighed and looked at Angela, standing in the doorway, and ogling them with questioning eyes. Brennan was sure that, once Booth was gone, she was going to be spending the rest of the morning explaining this new turn of events.
Angela plopped down in the chair across from them and crossed her legs. "I wanted to fill you in on some new details regarding your Civil War soldier."
"Oh?" Brennan's interest had been piqued, and she leaned forward, allowing Booth's hand to slide to her back.
"It was Hodgins' hunch," Angela explained. "He'll be here in a minute. He should probably tell you the story."
On cue, Zack entered the room, followed closely by Hodgins. If either found it odd that Brennan was sitting close to Booth and his hand was on her back, neither let it show. Zack sat in the other arm chair, and Hodgins leaned on the arm of Angela's chair.
"Well, what did you find?" Booth asked.
Hodgins broke into a self-satisfied smile. "I did a little digging on your ranger, Cliff Jacobs. Come to find out, his family goes way back. They settled in Florida just before the Civil War. I traced his line and found a Union soldier named Alexander Martin. He was listed as missing and presumed dead at the Battle of Monocacy Junction, just outside of Frederick Maryland, on July ninth of 1864 -- two months before the Richmond mint was robbed. Alexander's cousin was already established in Florida as a not-so-great guy."
Zack cut in, "We think that Alexander probably stole a Confederate uniform, took the cash and the plates and started down to Florida to meet up with his cousin and sell the plates to some of the people his cousin knew. If the bones in the woods are his, he obviously didn't make it."
Angela picked up the thread and continued, "Local legend tells of a Confederate treasure lost in the woods. Cliff's family had been spinning the tale for generations. He knew that his great-great-great-grand-uncle had died somewhere between Ocala and Richmond so, when he found the bones and the box and the plates, he knew exactly what he'd stumbled across."
Brennan leaned back, and Booth slowly moved his hand up her back to rest, again, on her shoulder. "That's why he took the rifle. I knew it couldn't worth anything unless it was for sentimental reasons."
Booth nodded. "It all makes sense. Can you pull DNA from the bones to compare it to Jacobs?"
Brennan nodded. "Viable samples of mitochondrial DNA have been pulled from bones older than these. It's possible that we might be able to prove some familial relation between the remains and Jacobs. At least we'd be able to positively put a name with the remains."
Zack jumped to his feet. "I'll get on it."
"Glad to see you both back and in one piece," Hodgins offered before following Zack.
Angela stood up and smoothed her slacks, picking off an imagined piece of lint before turning her attention to the couple on the couch. She pointed a red-tipped fingernail at Brennan and smiled. "Tonight, sweetie, you and me. Confessions and drinks -- not necessarily in that order." She winked at Booth and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Booth sighed and settled back into the couch. Brennan settled against him. "Well," he said, "I guess this means we're off for tonight."
"We were on?" She poured through the foggy details of the previous twelve hours but couldn't remember making plans.
"Angela stole my thunder." Booth hugged her, and then sat up. "How about tomorrow night? Dinner and a movie?"
"A date?" Brennan feigned shock.
"An honest-to-goodness date," he agreed. "I'll even pay."
She stood when he did and followed him to the door, pausing when he opened it. "Dinner and a movie sound nice," she agreed. "Assuming, of course, that nothing comes up between now and then."
Booth was about to agree when his cell phone rang. He groaned, mouthed 'jinx' at her, and reached into his pocket while Brennan tried to contain her smile. "Booth." He listened for a moment then said, "We're on our way."
He hung up and took her by the hand. "Grab your hip-waders, Bones. We're on the job."
"Hip-waders?!" Brennan tried to pull back but found that she was, once again, being swept along by the force of nature that was Seeley Booth.
And she didn't mind it one bit.
end