Chapter Nine

Greta Garbo was what Brennan had heard termed "platinum" blonde, her hair cut in a short, attractive – though admittedly mussed – bob. Based on the fact that Booth and Tripp were both rendered speechless at sight of the woman's ample cleavage, it was clear that she was considered very good looking.

"Zack, what the hell is going on?" Brennan demanded.

He looked confused himself. "I was asleep – we were just sleeping. But then I woke up because I heard a noise, and that was just… There."

"And he woke me up," Greta said, a faint southern accent detectable. Her voice was still rough – Brennan assumed from having just woken. "And I saw it… And I screamed." She turned to Zack. "I've dreamed of seeing a real, live Gormogon skeleton my whole life – I never thought I would scream."

"It was quite startling," Zack said. "I almost screamed myself."

Greta smiled at that. Based on the way she was looking at Zack, Brennan got the unpleasant sense that she might be about to engage in some type of physical display of affection. Zack, however, still looked quite uncomfortable.

"Well, where the hell did it come from?" Booth demanded.

"And where the hell did she come from?" Cam added.

Angela and Hodgins arrived on the scene a moment later, Angela looking particularly out of sorts.

"What the hell is going – whoa," Angela stopped, her eyes growing wider at the sight that awaited her inside the room. She looked at Brennan. "Did you know Zack has a girl in his bed?"

"Right now I'm not worried about the girl," Booth said. "Though we're gonna deal with that, too. First, I want to know how the skeleton we've been looking for for the past day winds up in your room, looking like it's been here all along."

Brennan left them to their conversation, and went to the Gormogon sculpture to examine it more closely.

"I don't know how the skeleton got into my room," Zack said.

The sculpture was positioned in exactly the same way the previous Gormogon skeletons had seen – the arms stretched unnaturally over the head, the entire skeleton twisted at an angle around the C4 and C5 vertebra.

In the background, she heard Zack continue. "I'd be happy to go over the entire scenario with you, however. If you could just…"

Brennan looked intently at the skeleton, trying to recall precisely what the photographs Diggs had sent of the sculpture had looked like. There was something different here.

"Hey, Bones," Booth came up beside her, snapping his fingers. "We're gonna give Romeo and Juliet here a chance to get some pants on, all right? Now come on – let's leave 'em to it."

"Look at the left metatarsals on this," Brennan said.

She was pleased to note that Booth hesitated only a moment before he gazed down at the foot.

"Yeah, Bones – great. Toes. I'll be sure to call a press conference. Now, can we get outta here? Because I personally am not interested in whatever Zack's hiding under those blankets."

"They were silver in the photo that Diggs provided. As were the right femur and the left tibia."

It took only a moment more before he realized the significance of what she was saying.

"So, you're saying somebody's added new bones to this thing since they found it in the basement a week ago?"

"Or at least since Diggs took the photographs and sent them to Angela."

Booth sighed.

"Excuse me," Zack said, still seated uncomfortably on the bed with the blankets pulled up to his chest. "If you could just give us a moment..."

Brennan noted that Greta's sheet had drifted somewhat from its original placement, revealing much more than Brennan, for one, was comfortable seeing.

"Let 'em stay," Greta said. "I'm not shy."

She gathered the sheet haphazardly around herself, exposing a significant amount of breast and thigh, and marched to the bathroom. She draped herself at the doorway, the sheet slipping incrementally down her body. Brennan noted that Hodgins and Zack were both mesmerized by the show, while Booth and Tripp were clearly affected, but markedly better at disguising their interest.

"C'mon, Zacky… If you hurry, I might just have something in here for you," the woman practically purred.

Zack started to get up, but Cam motioned him down with an authoritative glare.

"Down, boy. Greta, why don't you just go get dressed. Alone. Quickly." Greta didn't move. Her lower lip came out in an unmistakable pout. Cam narrowed her eyes. "Now."

Clearly disgruntled, the woman dropped her sheet in the doorway and closed the door – though not before she'd given everyone in the room an unimpeded glimpse of her assets.

"Whoa," Hodgins said.

Zack smiled smugly. "I told you she was real."

"Yeah, but you never said she was… Wow."

"Well, if you won't be needing me, I'm going back to bed," Angela said abruptly. She brushed past Hodgins, nearly knocking him over in the process. "I need sleep, since I'm still a human incubator for your spawn for the next two months." She glared at him for just a moment before she stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Booth went over and slapped Hodgins on the back of the head. "Nice move, genius."

"Ow - What? She's totally cool about me checking out other women – we've had this talk before."

"I'm guessing that was before you got her pregnant, moved in together, and exchanged vows?" Tripp interjected.

Jack's face fell. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Booth said with a terse nod. "I'm thinking you'll be bunking with Zack here by nightfall."

"What?" Zack looked alarmed, for the first time coming out of his stupor since Greta had dropped her sheet in front of the entire room moments before. "He can't share a room with me. I'm – "

"- in the custody of the Federal government," Booth finished for him. "And we have a strict policy against springing prisoners so they can shack up with their girlfriends and get it on. It's in the rule book."

"It is?" Brennan asked. By the look on Booth's face, she was guessing he hadn't meant that literally.

She glanced at an antique clock on the wall. It was just past four a.m. Clearly, they wouldn't be getting anymore sleep tonight. Greta came out a moment later, wearing only a sheer dressing gown that left virtually nothing to the imagination. Tripp began to cough so hard he became quite flushed, and Cam slapped him on the back with what Brennan felt was excessive force.

"Hey, here's an idea, babe," the pathologist said, drawing the term of endearment out with saccharine sweetness. "How about you go back to bed, and we'll finish up here?"

"Great idea," he said, his voice still not quite at full strength. "I'll just…" His eyes drifted back to Greta for just an instant, and he shook his head as though clearing it. "Yeah. Let me know if you need anything."

He hurried out of the room, with Hodgins close on his heels. Which left Zack, Greta, Booth, Brennan, and Cam. Zack excused himself to get dressed. Booth had become unusually interested in the skeleton by this time. Brennan watched as he stood staring at it with a level of concentration she had rarely seen from him.

"Aren't you going to be cold?" Cam asked Greta coolly.

"I tend to run hot most of the time," Greta said. She maneuvered herself back into Booth's line of vision. "You know how that is, I bet."

Though she had been up for some time now, Greta's voice retained that husky quality Brennan had detected earlier. She wondered if the woman might be suffering from Reinke's edema. Whatever the cause, it was clear that it – among other things – was having an effect on Booth.

Cam grabbed a flannel bathrobe that must have been Zack's, and pushed it toward Greta.

"Here – put this on." Her tone did not invite argument.

Zack came out a moment later, fully dressed in jeans and a sweater, his hair standing on end and his feet bare. With Greta now more appropriately clothed as well, the two of them sat on the bed, while Booth paced the room for a few moments before he spoke. When he did, it was clear that he didn't view these latest developments with a great deal of amusement.

"What the hell happened?" he finally began, directing the question at Zack. "Has she been here the whole time?"

"She stowed away in the boat – I didn't realize until we were already here. She's very interested in Gormogon. I think she'll be a real asset to the case."

"So, you got here and she was just… What, waiting for you in your room?"

"I just waited until everyone had checked in, and then I found out which room Zack was in. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Which it was," Zack said quickly. A very good surprise."

Brennan looked at him more closely. He appeared disheveled, but at first she had attributed that to the circumstances and his usual state. Now, she took a step closer, indicating that he move to the end of the bed.

"Did you take something last night?"

"Of course not. I came back to my room directly after we were finished with dinner. Booth told me not to leave my room, so I didn't. Greta joined me, and we had – "

"Yeah, Zack, we know what you had," Booth interrupted. "You can skip that part."

"She asked me," he said with a trace of indignance. "I was merely trying to answer the question as accurately as possible." He paused, reorganizing his thoughts. "Then there was a knock on our door, at just a little past eight o'clock. Greta hid. There was a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, which I – " he stopped, comprehension dawning. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh,'" Booth said. "And no clue where this milk and cookies came from?"

"I just assumed it was a gift from hotel management. Something they did."

"Yeah, 'cause that wouldn't be weird at all," Booth said dryly.

Brennan bent closer, studying Zack's eyes. All but a tiny ring of iris was visible around shining black pupils.

"Did you have some of the milk and cookies, as well?" she asked Greta.

"Zack shared them with me. He's very generous."

Cam checked the woman's eyes. "You could drive a freight train through these pupils."

"What happened after the cookies?" Booth pressed. "Did you remember to lock your door again?"

"Yes," Zack said, without hesitation. "Greta reminded me specifically, because she wanted to – "

Again, Booth held up his hand. "Got it."

"And did you?" Brennan asked.

Zack looked confused. "Did I…?"

"I assume you were about to say that you and Ms. Garbo were going to have intercourse again. After the milk and cookies."

"Oh," Zack said. He looked embarrassed, but only for a moment before he grasped the implication of the question. "No – we didn't. We were both too sleepy." He looked at Greta. "I didn't think anything of it at the time, but that has definitely never happened before."

"This is what the stuff came in?" Booth asked, indicating a glass and an empty plate on the bedside table.

"Yes – that's it," Zack said.

"We'll want to bag that," he said to Brennan. "Maybe Hodgins will know how to get fingerprints off it or something."

"I have a kit with me," Cam said. "We'll have to fingerprint everyone in the hotel, but based on the weather forecast, I'm not thinking we'll have anything better to do for the next twenty-four hours."

"Are you kiddin' me?" Booth asked. "There's no way in hell we're staying here another twenty-four hours."

Greta smiled at him winningly. Brennan wasn't certain how or when she'd done it, exactly, but her flannel robe had definitely slid quite far down her body.

"Oh, come on, handsome," the woman said, her voice a breathy whisper. "I'm sure we'll find a way to keep you entertained."

Instead of becoming apoplectic as the other men in the room had done, however, Booth simply rolled his eyes.

"Oh, yeah. This is gonna be great."

The snow had continued in earnest over the course of the night; in the morning hours, the precipitation changed to sleet and freezing rain. It was hardly the improvement in conditions they had all been hoping for. Cam had been right – there was no way anyone would be getting off the island in the next twenty-four hours.

Booth, Brennan, and Cam determined that the surest course of action to keep the Gormogon skeleton safe from another theft attempt was to keep it in Zack's room. Zack and Greta were each reassigned new rooms, though Brennan doubted their ability to keep the two separate. Booth then set up a 'round-the-clock watch to ensure that someone was constantly on vigil to guard the skeleton.

Booth took the first shift, while everyone else went down for an early breakfast. Though not yet six a.m., almost everyone in their party was gathered once more at a large table in the dining room, a buffet-style breakfast waiting for them. Based on outward appearances, Brennan was guessing that no one had had a terribly good night's sleep.

"So, Greta," Angela began, when conversation about the discovery of the skeleton had temporarily abated, "How is it that you and Zack here met, exactly?"

Greta had showered and changed – now, she wore a white cashmere sweater at least two sizes too small, with tight jeans and thigh high boots. Brennan wasn't certain how oxygenated blood could possibly reach her extremities in such an outfit.

"I was in the Institution one day," she said, "And I heard somebody talking about Zack."

"You were in the Institution as a – um," Tripp hesitated. "As a patient, you mean?"

"Greta checks herself in periodically," Zack interrupted. "She has anxiety issues."

"But if you were in there voluntarily," Cam interrupted, "wouldn't that mean you were in a different part of the hospital than Zack?"

"Locked doors have never been much trouble for me. I have a way of getting what I want, when I want it." the woman said. She smiled, tilting her head slightly as she directed her gaze at Tripp. "Would you be a doll and get me some more coffee? I just can't seem to get my head on straight – it must be whatever they slipped us last night."

Tripp looked at Cam guiltily. "Oh for crying out loud, just do it," she said, when she realized he seemed to be waiting for some type of permission.

He reluctantly took Greta's coffee mug from her, taking unnecessary care not to touch any part of her body, and went to get the refill she had requested.

"So, you're the brilliant Jack Hodgins," Greta said, directing her gaze at Hodgins the moment that Tripp had walked away.

Hodgins seemed to be doing everything in his power to refrain from looking at Greta ever since the incident that morning when Angela had stalked off.

"Yep, I guess so," he said, keeping his eyes on his plate. "Hey, does anybody else want coffee? We should get a pot. Hang on – I'll make some."

He stood so abruptly he nearly toppled his chair, hurrying off in Tripp's wake.

"The men around here don't stand still much, do they?" Greta asked. "What about you, Diggs?" she said, in that low purr that Brennan was beginning to despise. "Isn't there somewhere you need to – "

"Okay, you know what?" Angela interrupted loudly, abruptly breaking whatever spell Greta seemed to be casting. "Honey, I don't care if you are a knockout with double Ds threatening to explode out of that sweater any second now – if you don't give the Monroe whisper and the doe eyes a rest, somebody's gonna leave this table with a limp. I've got swollen ankles and hemorrhoids and seven months' worth of pregnancy hormones stored up, and I promise you, there's not a jury in the world that would convict me if I drowned you before the day was out."

The table went silent. For a moment, Brennan thought Greta would throw some kind of scene. Instead, after the initial shock had worn off, she smiled innocently.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you," she said, with the same husky whisper Angela had just threatened. The woman turned to Zack. "I told you, baby – women just never seem to like me."

The tension continued unabated until Diggs cleared his throat. Like Booth, he seemed relatively unaffected by the woman.

"So, any ideas on who left this thing?"

"We'll be setting up an interrogation room in the hotel after breakfast," Brennan informed him. "Cam will try to lift fingerprints from the glass and the plate left behind in Zack's room, and then we'll fingerprint all of the hotel guests."

"Let me know if there's any way I can help out."

"Hey, where's Erin this morning?" Angela asked. "She used to be the first one out of bed, ready to take on the world."

He shrugged, his tone cooling perceptibly. "Yeah, well – people change, I guess."

Tripp returned then, and the rest of the table resumed their own discussions. Once the attention was no longer focused in their direction, Angela lowered her voice, including just Diggs, Brennan, and herself in the conversation.

"So, she's still being weird?" she asked, clearly still referring to Erin.

Brennan thought of everything Booth had told her the night before. He'd been adamant that she not say anything about the pregnancy, which Brennan respected. However, it did seem as though someone besides Booth should know that the woman wasn't merely being difficult.

"Perhaps she's not feeling well," she said.

Diggs looked at her. "Did she say something to your partner last night?"

"No," Brennan said. "I mean – she may have, I don't know. But if she wasn't feeling well, perhaps it would be better to be a bit more forgiving than you might be otherwise. If she wasn't feeling well." She hesitated. "Which, if it were the case, I would have no way of knowing."

Angela gave her a quick look, but thankfully did not pursue the issue.

"Well, don't ask me," she said, redirecting her attention to Diggs. "You're Erin's BFF, right? So, it makes sense that, whatever the two of you are, you might want to be there in case she does need somebody." She glanced at Brennan. "Which I'm guessing isn't out of the realm of possibility."

"Yeah. Point taken," Diggs said, looking somewhat chastened. He glanced around the table as if the answer to his dilemma might magically reveal itself. "All right. So, I guess I'll just go up there again. We'll go through the same old routine – I'll ask if she's okay, she'll say she's fine. I'll press for details, she'll get pissy. We'll call a truce and talk about the story. 'Cause that's what we do."

He stood with a heavy sigh. "And, here I go."

As soon as he'd left the room, Angela leaned in closer to Brennan. "Okay, what the hell happened between Erin and Booth last night?"

Brennan looked at her blankly. "He found her and brought her back to the hotel."

"Un unh – No way is that the whole story. Something happened – I could tell when I talked to Erin before bed last night. Don't get me wrong – I love her, right? I mean… In an 'I haven't talked to you in fifteen years, but we had some great times together as kids' kind of a way, but still… I love her. But something's going on with her. Her creepy husband, the vibe between her and Diggs, the bizarre disappearance, then some mysterious heart-to-heart with Booth in the middle of a blizzard… Sweetie, something is clearly up."

Brennan hesitated. The moment she did, she knew Angela would be able to tell that she was hiding something – she always could.

"You know, don't you?"

"No."

"You do, too! Bren." She leaned in even closer, whispering seriously. "Sweetie, you cannot hold out on me – it's not what we do. These are two of my oldest friends. There's no way you should know dirt that I don't."

Brennan looked around the table, but everyone else did indeed still seem deeply engaged in their own conversations.

"You can't tell anyone. And you especially can't tell Booth that I told you."

Angela crossed her heart and pantomimed locking her lips. "I'm a vault. I swear."

Brennan took a deep breath, and lowered her voice even further. "She's pregnant."

Angela's eyes widened. She let out a little squeak, before she managed to contain herself.

"Diggs is the father, isn't he?" she asked, though it appeared from the tone that she already knew the answer.

"She didn't tell Booth who the father was," Brennan said.

"It has to be – that's why she came out here. To tell him. Oh, wow. This is huge. Do you have any idea how long those two have been doing the Will They or Won't They dance? And when it wasn't Will They or Won't They, it was Did They or Didn't They? Or They Did, But Will They Ever Again? Seriously, sweetie, these two make you and Booth look like amateurs."

Brennan fell silent, uncertain how to respond to this latest bit of information. Thankfully, Hodgins returned with coffee and the conversation naturally flowed to other topics, before Angela could continue her ruminations.

Brennan went back upstairs a short time later with a plate of food, and knocked on the door of the room that had been Zack's. Booth opened it immediately, both he and Dosha looking immensely pleased at her arrival.

"Man, am I glad to see you, Bones. I can't believe this place doesn't have a TV… Do you have any idea how boring it is sitting around here guarding a skeleton? I can think of about a hundred and forty things that would be more fun, just off the top of my head."

She handed him the tray and returned to the skeleton immediately, anxious to have an opportunity to look at it more closely.

"So, what's the scoop down there? Did I miss the catfight?"

"I haven't seen any cats here," she said, barely taking the time to look over her shoulder. "Just Dosha, and Erin's dog. And neither of them was down there." She crouched beside the skeleton, examining the new femur more closely. When Booth didn't respond, his meaning became clear.

"You meant fights between Greta and the other women."

"Yeah, Bones, that's what I meant. Old Greta there looks like she could do some damage, but my money's on Cam and Angela."

"There's something odd about this femur," she said. She ran a gloved finger over the eminences at the head of the femur, her brow furrowed. Booth crouched down beside her, leaning in so that his face was next to hers, just inches from the skeleton.

"Doesn't look odd to me, Bones. It looks like a femur."

"Look at how porous the protuberances are, though," she argued. She pointed to the Greater Trochanter, riddled with miniscule craters virtually undetectable to the human eye.

"And the protubera-thingies aren't supposed to be porous?"

"The lower extremity was still fusing to the femoral body – that happens at approximately twenty years old. But the degree of degradation implies a much older individual."

"It couldn't have been caused by exposure? I mean, just 'cause that bone is new to the skeleton doesn't mean it's a fresh kill, right? Maybe somebody dug it up."

"No," she shook her head. "It isn't new, certainly, but it's been carefully preserved. Smell it."

He arched an eyebrow at her, moving away from both she and the skeleton. "Sorry, Bones, that's where I draw the line."

She did it for him. "It's quite clear, even from outward observation - some type of shellac has been used. It's a primitive method of preservation, but still effective."

He looked uncomfortable for a moment. "What about the, uh… You know."

She didn't. After a moment, he finally gave in.

"The toothmarks, Bones – like in the last skeleton. You see any sign of that? Did somebody eat this guy or not?"

"Oh – yes. They're quite clear, actually – without additional testing, I won't be able to provide an accurate timetable for when this individual died, but I would say that it was at least ten years ago. This femur belonged to a young adult male with some type of bone-wasting disease. The individual was killed, his bones gnawed upon, and then preserved in shellac in a low-light environment to prevent further deterioration."

Booth sat down on the floor, exhaling a long burst of air as he did so. "Well, that's just great. So, what – somebody's just got a cellar full of bones they've been saving up 'til they got a chance to fit it in old Gorgonzola here? What the hell kind of island is this?"

Brennan sat down beside him, her gaze still fixed on the skeleton. Dosha immediately settled beside her, her head in Brennan's lap. She stroked the dog's soft fur absently.

"Do you think we're in danger here?" she asked.

A shadow crossed Booth's face at the question. "I don't know. I wish to hell there were a few less people here, though. Sweets, Angela, Hodgins, Erin… There are too many people here standing on shaky ground."

She was pleased that he hadn't included her in that list. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"You're doing okay?"

"I'm doing very well, actually," she said. She leaned into his embrace.

He kissed her cheek, and then her ear, his stubble scraping her sensitive skin enough to send a charge much like electricity through her in response.

"You wanna fool around, then?"

Dosha looked up with mild annoyance as Booth took Brennan in his arms, his kiss growing in urgency in short order. The dog got up and padded off to the other side of the room.

"Booth," she said. She pushed him away, attempting to maintain some air of propriety.

"Bones," he said in response. He sighed. "C'mon, Bones. I've got another hour watching this stupid skeleton. No TV. No sports section. Just a half-metal bucket of bones, and you looking sexy as hell."

"I'm in my coveralls and work boots."

"Yeah, like I said: with you, looking sexy as hell." He leaned in and kissed her again, his body gently pressing her back onto the floor. His lips found her ear, his breath hot on her skin. "Haven't I ever told you what those coveralls do to me?"

She felt that familiar ache at her center that Booth always seemed able to elicit. As had become standard, she felt him hold back as he waited for her to indicate whether or not she was all right to continue.

"Someone could come in," she said after a moment, though in fairness she said the words through a fairly ardent kiss.

"I locked the door."

She pulled back for a moment to see if he was serious. If the look in his eye wasn't enough, the tell-tale bulge in his jeans was very convincing.

"We just had sex a few hours ago."

His hand moved up her inner thigh, his lips returning to her neck. "What's your point, Bones?" When he pressed the palm of his hand against her, she arched into his touch with a small gasp. "Give me the chance, and I'd make love to you six times a day."

Before he could go any further, she abruptly stood. Booth looked unmistakably disappointed, though he was doing an admirable job trying to hide it.

"I'm not making love to you on a hardwood floor," she said.

A slow grin touched his lips. He stood with some difficulty, and nodded toward the bed. "Zoe already sent somebody up to change the sheets. New blankets and everything." She wasn't certain why this was of concern, until she remembered what they had walked in on that morning.

"So, no remnants from Zack and Greta," she interpreted.

"Not one." His gaze bounced from the door to the skeleton to the bed, before ultimately landing on Brennan once more. "So, Bones…" He took a step toward her, his eyes taking on a predatory gleam. "Whaddya say?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and maneuvered him toward the bed, her lips meeting his with renewed urgency. "I say, I get to be on top."

"No problem, baby," he murmured between kisses, as she ran her hands under his shirt, feeling the strength and power of his back and shoulders.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching with undisguised hunger as she unbuttoned her coveralls slowly. His tongue ran across his lips as though he were starving and she was the first real food he'd seen in too long. Moisture pooled at her center, the ache deepening as she met his eye.

That ache abruptly vanished, when someone knocked loudly on the door.

Booth's eyes widened; Brennan re-buttoned her coveralls in seconds.

"Hey! The door's locked – everything okay in there, Booth?" Hodgins, Brennan realized.

Damn.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Booth called back. "I was just… It's just a precaution. Extra security, you know."

"Well, let me in," Jack called. "Dr. B wanted me to check out the skeleton, see if I could find any particulates."

Once Brennan was reassembled, she went over and opened the door, attempting to appear nonchalant. Booth had gotten up from the bed and was standing beside the skeleton, for some reason seeming thoroughly absorbed in the left ulna, his arms crossed and his posture tense. He was embarrassed, she realized.

Hodgins did a doubletake when Brennan answered the door.

"Dr. B – I, uh – I didn't realize you were in here." Dosha trotted over and he gave the dog a cursory greeting. "I can come back later, if I was, y'know, interrupting anything."

She met Booth's eye with a smile that warmed her – that shared-joke, just-between-you-and-me smile that she'd spent years seeing from the outside looking in. She shook her head, and opened the door fully.

"No, of course not. Come in."

While they watched Hodgins begin a careful examination of the Gormogon sculpture, Booth leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"Sorry, Bones. Raincheck?"

She tried to suppress a smile, offering a small, businesslike nod. As if he really had to ask.