As promised, this chapter is super steamy - at least the first part is. I would most definitely advise reading the first thousand words or so alone. Maybe with some ice water at the ready. ;)
This one ends on a cliffie. Things are about to change.
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Chapter 14
Brennan stayed long enough to eat breakfast again with Booth and Parker, but when they left for church, she headed to the lab. It was empty upon her arrival with only the occasional security or maintenance worker passing through. She hoped to finish the remaining identifications by four, so she worked diligently through lunch, secluded in the Bone Room.
The second ID proved more difficult than the first, and she concluded that this man must have been nearest to the explosion which had killed him. However, after checking and rechecking the remains against the medical records Homeland Security had provided, she felt comfortable in confirming the identification. Brennan packed the remains neatly into the storage containers in which they'd been delivered and moved them to a storage room until they could be shipped out again on Monday.
She glanced at her watch and headed to her office with a smile. It was half past four, so she knew Parker had just been dropped off at Rebecca's. The lab was still empty, and she hadn't seen anyone in several hours. Perfect.
While they'd been in LA the previous week, Brennan had requested blinds to be installed over her office windows. Booth had yet to see them, and surprisingly no one else had seemed to find it odd enough to say anything to her on Friday. She knew that Booth had been slightly disappointed over her insistence on coming into the lab on a Sunday, and Brennan hoped that what she'd planned would make up for it.
She'd lost count of how many times she had fantasized about having sex with him in her office. Hundreds, probably. And she knew his expressions well enough to know that the thought had crossed his mind at least a few dozen times as well. So with a wicked grin, she pulled out her phone to text him.
'Emergency. I'm okay, but come to my office asap.'
That ought to do it, she thought smugly. Her excitement grew when the phone in her hand rang, Booth's name popping up on the caller ID. She declined the call as well as the one that followed immediately after. He was probably in the car already. That gave her fifteen minutes at most. Brennan closed the blinds over each window in her office as well as the back of the glass door and stripped down to the lingerie she'd put on that morning while Booth had showered. On a whim, she slipped her lab coat back on and left the buttons open.
She moved to her chair and cleared the surface of her desk as well as she could before reclining back in the seat to wait. A remarkably short time later-he must've utilized the lights and the siren, she thought-Brennan heard his running footsteps approaching her office.
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Less than a minute after Booth had received her text, he was back behind the wheel of his SUV and racing toward the Jeffersonian. Why wasn't she answering his calls? Her text had said she was okay, but if that was true then why couldn't she pick up the phone? Possibilities whirled in his mind, and he simply wasn't sure what to make of it. So he'd flipped on the lights and siren and pushed the pedal to the floor.
The security guard had been at the main desk, but there was no one stationed inside the lab as there should have been when anyone was working on the platform. But he had only a moment to think about that before he noticed a change. Since when does Bones have blinds in her office? He didn't pause to really consider the implications of that before bursting through her office door at a run. And when he spotted her at her desk, the air seemed to have gone out of the room.
She was reclining slightly in her office chair, smiling the sexiest smile he'd seen on her yet. And she was naked. Well, nearly naked. Beneath her open lab coat, she wore a deliciously tiny set of lingerie in a deep red tone that made her skin look like pale silk. Her legs were crossed, almost casually, and encased in thigh-high, sheer black pantyhose. On her feet she wore a black, strappy pair of heels that he knew would put her height level with his own if she were standing.
Booth moved his mouth somewhat spastically but couldn't seem to form words. Brennan's smile grew wider, and she noted the prominent bulge in his pants which presumably had not been there before he had come through the door.
"Good afternoon, Agent Booth," she said with a devilish expression. Booth still felt as though he'd been hit over the head as he watched her rise from the chair and saunter toward him.
"Bones," he moaned, finally locating his vocal chords. "Wow." His heart was sprinting as she reached for him, gliding her hands over his abdomen beneath his black shirt. Booth instinctively moved his hands inside the lab coat to caress her beautiful skin, wrapping his fingers gently around her hips before moving them around to cup her ass and pull her hips against his. Breathless already with the intensity of his desire, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his own. His hands roamed every accessible inch of her body, and she was quickly whimpering in his arms.
He embraced her gently around her torso and lifted slightly, walking her backward toward the chair she had just vacated. But it was not their destination. He pushed it out of the way and pinned her between his body and her desk. She practically ripped the shirt from his body before gripping his cocky belt buckle in order to pull him roughly against her hips. His tongue pursued hers, and his fingertips trailed down toward her center, setting her very skin on fire.
Within seconds, he was more nude than she was, and as much as he loved the lingerie, he couldn't wait another moment to see what was under it. She allowed the lab coat to fall to the floor, and Booth wondered how he would ever be able to look at it again without remembering her just like this.
"This set is… God, I don't even have words for it, Bones. You look amazing. Perfect. So hot."
"Mmm, I'm glad you like it."
"I do," he replied into the dip of her neck. So much, he thought. He coaxed her gently to sit on the edge of her desk and moved his mouth down her body, determined to taste every exquisite inch of her. He felt her fingers thread into his hair, pulling his head down to her breasts. They were heaving with the speed of her breath, looking like they might burst through their lacy confinement at any moment. The image made him harder still, and he was unable to resist the urge to pull the thin fabric down over her, allowing her breasts to spill into his waiting hands.
The sound of her whimpering his name made him wild with desire, and he seized a nipple between his lips, pulling her flesh strongly with the suction. Brennan fought the urge to cry out with her pleasure, and she pressed her lips together tightly. There may have been no one in the lab when he'd come in, but if she began shouting, someone was sure to hear her eventually. She hooked her stocking-clad legs firmly around his hips and relished the feel of his thick arousal against her.
Booth groaned at her actions and became a bit more frantic to remove her undergarments.
"Do you have any idea how many times I've fantasized about this?" Booth asked her, his voice hoarse with yearning.
"I had hoped it was as least as often as I had," she told him through gasping breaths. He had unhooked her bra to free her breasts and was moving with deliberate haste to grip her underwear in his hand. It took rather a lot of self-control not to rip them, and Booth was proud that he was able to get them off of her body in one piece. The thong she'd worn on New Year's hadn't been so lucky. She stood up to allow him to remove them, but he left her stockings and heels in place.
"Jesus, Bones," he moaned. "You're gorgeous."
"I want you to take me, Booth. We have all night to take our time, but right now I want it fast. Hard."
Her words made his entire body ache with need, which only intensified when she turned to face away from him and pushed her buttocks suggestively against his erection, leaning over her desk. Booth needed no more encouragement. He grasped her hips firmly and slid completely into her wet sheath in one stroke. Brennan did cry out then, unable to stop herself. Booth set a steady but gentle pace for a few moments, allowing her body to grow accustomed to his size. She was extremely tight though, and his movements quickened involuntarily.
"More, Booth. Harder… please." Brennan ended her plea on a near-whisper and gasped when he complied. His hips moved in powerful thrusts, slamming into her repeatedly. Brennan gripped the edge of the desk for support. It was all she could do not scream when her first orgasm rippled through her.
He felt the spasms of her release and cried out at the exquisite pleasure of it. Booth knew that she could achieve another climax rather quickly with the right stimulation, and he moved one hand upward to cup her breast, pinching the hardened peak gently. The other hand slipped beneath her hips and down toward her center. His hips never ceased their movements as his nimble fingers applied just the right amount of pressure to her clit. It took mere moments before she was coming in his arms for a second time.
Booth eased out of her carefully and helped her stand up. He turned her back to face him, kissing her deeply before bending his knees slightly to lift her into his arms. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and he carried her slowly to the couch. Booth sat down with her straddling his hips and allowed her to control their movements at that point. Brennan wasted no time in sinking down onto him, loving the way he filled her so completely.
She moved at a fevered pace, capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss that muffled their cries and moans. He was determined to feel her come just once more, and he moved his lips to the place on her neck, just below her ear, that he knew drove her crazy with want. His teeth scraped against the spot before he sucked her skin hungrily. He knew he was marking her, and it made him swell even larger within her. With his other hand, he grazed his fingers against her clit, and her reaction was instantaneous.
Brennan shouted his name with her release, no longer caring who might hear. Booth followed her swiftly with his own climax, and they clung to one another as the waves overwhelmed them. As they slowly came down from their high, they shared soft kisses and smoothed their hands luxuriously over one another's skin.
"Holy hell, Bones. I almost can't believe we just did that."
"So I take it you approve of the addition to my windows then?" Brennan asked, chuckling lightly.
"God yes. Though not nearly as much as I approve of what you were wearing." He shuddered a sigh, still feeling her aftershocks.
"I'm glad you liked it."
"Did you put that on this morning? Cause if I'd known that there's no way you would've been here all day."
She laughed, finally easing off of him to clean herself up. He followed suit then crossed the room to retrieve his clothing.
"I did have to be a little sneaky. I waited until you were in the shower."
"Well, that settles it then. I won't shower without you anymore."
"Fine with me, but it's fun to surprise you now and then."
He grinned at her and stopped dressing for long enough to drop a kiss on her smiling lips. "This might just be the best surprise I've ever gotten. I'm gonna have to think really hard to come up with a way to return the favor."
Brennan smiled at the prospect and opened the door once they were decent. She peeked out across the lab and was pleased to see that it was still empty. They had certainly been much louder than they should have been, and it wouldn't have surprised her if their voices had carried even beyond the heavy glass doors.
Booth had similar concerns, and the smirk on the security guard's face was enough to confirm his suspicions. He recognized him as the same man who had expertly handled Michael Stires, and for that Booth forgave the man for his less than discreet response to what he'd heard.
They had agreed to leave Brennan's car there overnight since they planned to stop for dinner on the way to her apartment. She had noticed the guard's humored expression as well, and she blushed all the way to his SUV.
"Perhaps in the future, it might be prudent to have some sort of bribe in place ensure the silence of the security and maintenance personnel," she mused, buckling her seatbelt.
"Bribe? First you blackmail a federal agent, now you want to bribe the Jeffersonian staff?" Booth teased her with a wide grin.
"Well the blackmail worked, didn't it? Bribery seems like the next logical step," she replied brightly.
"I suppose so. I guess it's a good thing that gossip and speculation about us is nothing new, or else I might really be concerned right now."
"Yes, I had a similar thought yesterday after your profoundly alpha-male behavior in front of Dr. Stewart," she told him, the amusement in her eyes belying the stern tone she tried to adopt. Booth didn't even bother trying to look sheepish.
"Yeah, well… secret or no secret, that idiot needed to be clear of where things stand."
"That I'm yours?" Brennan asked, a hint of a challenge flashing in her blue eyes.
"Just as I'm yours," he relied softly, the jesting tone completely gone from his voice. He joined their hands and squeezed gently. His poignant response had caught her off guard, and amazingly she could find no desire to object to his words. She wanted to belong to him just as much as she wanted him to belong to her. It was irrational, because no one belonged to anyone; she knew that. But logical or not, she knew unequivocally that it was true.
He was hers. And she was his.
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Brennan woke before her alarm the next morning feeling pleasantly sore, particularly between her thighs. She had indeed made good on her promise to enjoy a slower but equally passionate go-round when they had finally made it home from the diner. She stretched languidly against her sheets and her lover, adoring the unconscious groan she elicited from his chest.
They were meeting with the prosecutor that morning to discuss Peter's hearing. She told herself there was no reason to be nervous, and Booth had reiterated that fact. However, she was still extremely preoccupied with the upcoming hearing. Statistically speaking, reporting an assault had rarely given her positive results. And even though she knew that the evidence would support her testimony, the traumatized teen inside of her couldn't help but worry about a backfire of some sort.
"What's got you looking so worried, Bones?"
His voice startled her a bit; she'd been unaware that he was awake. She turned to meet his concerned gaze and wondered just how long he'd been staring at her.
"I'm fine," she tried to reassure him. Booth rolled his eyes, knowing that those particular words out of her mouth usually meant exactly the opposite.
"What's on your mind?"
"Just nervous, I guess," she admitted in a small voice. His arms instantly tightened around her, holding her close.
"There's nothing to worry about, Bones. The evidence is on your side, and nothing he can say or do changes that."
"I know, Booth. I'm being irrational."
"Well, I suppose you're entitled to that once in a while," he told her with a wink. The alarm sounded then, diverting her attention from whatever reply she had been about to give. "Come on, let's get ready to go. We can stop for coffee on the way."
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An hour later, they sat in a conference room across from a prosecutor named Paul West. Booth knew of him by reputation only, but the man was generally perceived as a good guy, if a bit cynical at times. His conviction rate was decent, but he tended to set the bar rather low when it came to specific charges and plea deals.
They made introductions quickly, and the prosecutor looked slightly dubious at the word 'partner.' Anyone with eyes could see the intimacy between them, but he chose to focus on the task at hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," he said cordially. "Now, I've reviewed all of the depositions as well as the evidence that's been submitted, and assuming that there is nothing to be added, I think it's safe to proceed with charges of harassment, breaking and entering, and assault and battery."
"No," Booth countered immediately. "You need to add that he's using his phone privileges to call her and leave empty voicemails. We can get the phone records to you. And all of those charges are only misdemeanors, he needs to be charged with felony assault of a federal employee."
"Yes, that would be preferable, however in this particular situation, I don't believe Mr. St. James would be convicted on that charge. He caused bodily harm, but not serious injury. And the assault did not occur while Dr. Brennan was working or as a result of her position as a contracted federal employee. I will add the harassing phone calls to the evidence, but also...the medical evidence may not be compelling enough for a felony conviction."
Booth ground his teeth in frustration. Sometimes he really hated this area of the law. The difference between a slap and a punch could be the difference between a misdemeanor or a felony, and the sentencing guidelines were wildly different between the two.
"Mr. West, I'm not sure what you mean about the medical evidence. I've seen everything that was submitted; what more is needed?" Brennan asked in confusion.
"I was referring in particular to the x-rays, Dr. Brennan. The defense attorney claims that the evidence of this particular assault is too obscured by past trauma in the same area to be truly credible."
Now Brennan was frustrated as well, and she inhaled deeply before answering.
"Any physician with even a year of residency should be able to see the difference between past and current skull trauma," she huffed. She knew it wasn't possible to be both a victim and an expert witness, but the argument really was ridiculous.
"Be that as it may, the judge in this case prefers clear and conclusive evidence. There's a chance that the defense attorney could get the medical evidence thrown out completely if the case goes to trial, and that would mean an even more lenient sentence."
"What do you mean if it goes to trial?" Booth interjected. "You think he'll take a plea?"
"I do, Agent Booth. From his position, it's certainly wiser, particularly considering the evidence captured on the security tapes from Dr. Brennan's apartment complex."
"What are you offering?"
"I hadn't finalized anything yet, primarily because I wanted to speak with the two of you first. But my initial thought was a guilty plea to all three charges, each of which have a maximum six month jail sentence. I would also want to tack on two years of probation and court-ordered anger management therapy. Dr. Brennan, I know that you already have a restraining order against Mr. St. James, but I would like to amend it to include a 'no-contact' order as well."
Booth and Brennan were quiet for a moment, considering the man's words. Brennan spoke first, asking a question to which Booth already knew the answer.
"If he pleads guilty to all three charges, will he definitely be sentenced to eighteen months?"
"No, Bones. It will depend on the judge. He isn't required to follow the sentencing structure of a plea bargain, and if he orders more jail time than what Peter agreed to, Peter can withdraw the plea completely. Then it goes to trial."
"And you don't think the odds are as favorable that way, Mr. West?"
"Unfortunately not. This particular judge-"
"Judge Grant," Booth cut in. The men nodded at one another before Booth went on to explain, having done a little checking on the man in question. "He was a close friend of Judge Hasty, Bones. He's...not one of our biggest fans."
Brennan immediately recalled the name of the man who had killed Gemma Arrington, and asked "So you think this judge is corrupt as well?"
"Well, I don't think he's killed anyone, and there haven't been allegations of corruption, but I don't trust the guy. He supported Hasty right up until his conviction, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if there was more than a little residual irritation with the people who put his buddy in prison for murder, Bones."
"Agent Booth is correct. And it's for those reasons that I believe a plea bargain is the best way to ensure that Mr. St. James spends as much time behind bars as possible."
Brennan was silent for another few moments but eventually nodded her assent.
"Do you think he'll take the deal?" Booth asked.
"It would certainly be in his best interest, though I do acknowledge that the man seems a bit unstable. I'm not able to predict what he may or may not do, even at his attorney's encouragement. The hearing is set for two weeks out, and I should hopefully have an answer on the plea bargain fairly quickly."
They thanked him and left, clasping hands once they had reached the privacy of his SUV. Brennan watched his face as he pulled into traffic, noting the thin set of his lips and his narrowed eyes.
"Do you think he'll refuse the deal?"
"Probably not. But that's not necessarily the best outcome either, Bones."
"You think the prosecution would stand a better chance in a trial?"
"No, West had a pretty accurate measure of Judge Grant. I just wish there was a surefire way to make sure he ends up in jail for more than a few months."
Brennan nodded in agreement but recognized that such a thing was impossible. She squeezed his hand a bit tighter until he looked over at her.
"It'll be fine, Booth. Regardless of what happens. I'm not afraid of him," she reassured him with a beautiful smile.
"I know that… And you're right, I guess. It is what it is, and we'll handle it." Booth worked to keep his voice light and optimistic, but he couldn't help the direction his mind had taken. Depending on where Peter ended up for his incarceration, he could at least hope that maybe the time would be difficult for him.
He dropped her off at the lab with a promise to be back with lunch in a couple of hours. Before she reached to open the car door, he pulled her toward him quickly. Booth kissed her deeply and without hesitation.
To hell with the cameras.
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The following morning, Booth was notified of a new case. A woman's charred remains had been found in her equally burnt out vehicle. The case involved a missing child, which made it a top priority, so he set off for the Jeffersonian immediately. He found Brennan in her office, being interviewed by a young blonde woman. Booth cursed under his breath that he had momentarily forgotten about the interview. She had told him about it that morning, and he had dutifully reassured her. But the case of a missing kid had taken over his focus. The woman was laughing as he entered the room. Brennan was not.
"Doesn't leave you much time for a personal life, does it?"
Brennan's eyes spotted Booth as he slipped into a chair behind the camera. Her expression brightened and she sat up a little straighter, smiling when he motioned to the one on his own face.
"It's true, I'm more focused on my career right now."
"Most of our viewers are parents at home with their preschool-aged children. What will you tell your kids about the horrors that you see every day?" Brennan regarded her with a wary expression and thought briefly of Parker. But he isn't mine, she reasoned.
"I don't have any children. But I don't think that talking to a child about those things would be appropriate." She tried to maintain her smile, but she found herself becoming irritated with the woman. What a stupid question, she thought, managing to resist the urge to roll her eyes.
The woman-Stacie Something-floundered a bit for another angle. Brennan felt no less awkward.
"Do you have any advice for budding authors out there?"
Brennan stifled a groan. She hated that question.
"Well, the first thing you should have is an idea and then… well first you need something to write with. They… they know that. Well, obviously you need a writing instrument and an idea. I'm just not sure which should come first."
Booth looked at the floor, acknowledging that as incredible and brilliant as his girlfriend was, speaking to the media was not her forte. The woman wrapped up the interview then, and he heaved a sigh of relief.
Brennan approached him after belatedly freeing herself of the microphone.
"How was I?" Her tone was nervous, and he didn't have the heart to be honest with her in that moment.
"We'll talk about it on the way."
"On the way where?"
He quickly explained the context of the crime scene they were headed to, and he kept chattering until they reached it. Fortunately the drive was short.
"State troopers called in the Fire Department to put out a burning car. They found a body in the driver's seat. License plate and VIN are missing," Booth explained as they looked over the blackened vehicle.
"Why is the FBI involved?"
"One burned backpack, child-size sneaker. Plus the right side of the seat belt went missing, sliced away."
"You think it was a kidnapping?" Brennan asked in concern.
"I have to act that way. The first forty-eight hours after a child abduction are crucial. That's why you're here. You ID the victim, that tells me what kid I'm looking for."
She finished the preliminary examination and helped the techs pack up the remains to be sent to the lab. Booth drove her back and hung around while she and Zack continued the analysis. He knew that she didn't like him to hover, but in this particular case, he couldn't afford to waste time driving back and forth between her office and his. So he did his best to keep a comfortable distance between them, though his eyes never left her. He loved watching her work, even if the atmosphere was ruined by the sight and scent of death. Her complete absorption in the task was one of the first things that had drawn him to her. He also couldn't keep his mind from drifting back to the last time he'd seen her in that lab coat-and very little else.
"Dr. Brennan, Mr. Addy," Goodman alerted them, standing at the bottom of the platform stairs with Hodgins and an unfamiliar red-headed woman. "This is Miss Pickering. She's performing a security review for the State Department."
"One man's security review is another man's witch hunt," Hodgins said sarcastically.
"That would be Dr. Jack Hodgins," Miss Pickering said placidly.
"It would be, yes," Goodman confirmed with with a tone of resignation.
Brennan listened halfheartedly as Hodgins argued the outrage of being the subject of a security check. Goodman recalled her attention, and she acknowledged Miss Pickering's presence with a few perfunctory words. The woman looked put off by Brennan's demeanor, and Goodman suggested helpfully that she 'work up to Dr. Brennan' in the course of her interviews.
Brennan noticed Booth waiting patiently for any information she could give him, and she left the platform, speaking to him briefly before heading toward Angela's office.
"How close are you to IDing the victim?"
"I may be jumping the gun, but-"
"That's music to my ears," he assured her, giving her a tiny nod of approval for her uncharacteristic use of a metaphor.
"Considering this forty-eight hour thing, we should be looking at eastern European immigrants going back ten years."
"I can get that information for you. Angela doing facial reconstruction?"
"Yes."
"You know, if this works, I'm gonna buy you a puppy," he told her, walking with her to Angela's office.
"That would be inadvisable. You never told me how I was this morning," she said, changing the subject quickly. He was the only person whose opinion she trusted completely. "I asked how I did, and you said we would talk about it in the car, but we never did."
"Was it your first TV interview? Other than the surprise one in LA?"
"Yes."
"It was fine, you know, for a first interview."
"That was a qualified response," she replied. Booth saw the concern in her beautiful features and hated that her feelings might end up hurt because of something as silly as a television spot.
"It was fine, Bones. Look, if you're feeling uncomfortable in front of a camera, I can always help you practice some more." He leaned closer to her so that he could lower his voice, speaking so softly that even she nearly failed to hear him. "That might actually be a lot of fun, you know," he suggested wickedly.
She smiled back at him flirtatiously. It was amazing how quickly he could turn her moods. At that moment, she couldn't have cared less what the reporter or anyone watching might have thought.
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With Angela's help, the victim was identified as Polina Semov. She was an immigrant who was married to a man named Carl Decker. They had one son, Donovan, who was eight years old. Booth and Brennan left immediately to check their Cleveland Park address.
She spotted Parker's car seat in her peripheral and glanced briefly at the back seat. The reminder of their weekend brought a smile to her face, and Booth noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing," she said, shaking her head dismissively. "Just thinking about last weekend." Booth followed her eyes to the back seat and returned her smile. Being together with Brennan and his son was the most fulfilling time he had spent for as long as he could remember. He'd never felt so content. Brennan's mind was on a different track, however, and she hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Do you ever regret bringing a child into the world, knowing what you know?"
"No," he answered immediately, surprised at her question. "The world is better for Parker being in it. His conception may have been unintentional, but… I'm a better person for having him in my life." Brennan contemplated that quietly, and he continued, "Is that why you said you didn't want kids?"
"I never said that I didn't want kids, just that I didn't have any. Which is the truth." She paused momentarily, then said, "I do like children, but I can't really picture myself as a mother. I don't think I'd be much good at it, considering that most people who know me find me to be cold and uncaring. Not to mention that my social skills are rather stunted-"
"Bones," he interrupted firmly, "You are neither of those things. And the only people who could really believe that about you don't know you at all." Booth saw the doubt in her expression and continued. "You had no trouble showing compassion to David Cook. You were wonderful with him; you got through to him when I couldn't, Bones. And you're amazing with Parker. He already adores you and loves to spend time with you."
Brennan tilted her head, conceding that his son did, in fact, seem to be rather fond of her. The reminder put a smile back on her face.
"Thank you, Booth." He reached over to take her hand in his own.
"Don't mention it. It's the truth."
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The victim's house was empty and seemed to have been vacant for some time. But the more surprising turn of events was the presence of US Marshals surveilling the place from a van parked down the street. Booth had acted instinctively to stop the unknown men from leaving after he had spotted them, and with Brennan's help, they quickly had both men on the ground. All three men pulled their weapons, declaring themselves.
A short while later, Booth and Brennan found themselves in his office with his boss, and Brennan was reminded yet again that the man didn't seem to like her.
"Well, at least nobody got shot. Probably because she didn't have a gun."
Booth chose not to take the bait and hoped Brennan would do the same.
"Sir, why is Carl Decker's home being watched by US Marshals?"
"Decker designs body armor for KBC Systems. He says they knowingly sent defective body armor to Iraq. Justice Department believes him, so they moved him to a safe house."
Brennan spoke up then, "Does the Justice Department think that Decker is in danger from the company?"
"He thinks he is," Cullen replied. "They want him to testify; they play along."
"Does Decker know that his wife has been killed and his child has been kidnapped?" Booth asked.
"No, and they don't want him to know."
"Why?" Brennan asked, disturbed that anyone would keep things like that from the man.
"Because it might prevent him from testifying," Booth explained.
Cullen knew that Booth wouldn't be granted access to Decker, and encouraged him to point his investigation in another direction. He left the room with barely a glance in Brennan's direction.
"I know you said he doesn't hate me," she told Booth with a hint of worry, "But he certainly doesn't seem to like me either."
"Don't worry about him, Bones. We'll be fine." Booth remembered their prior discussion about how Cullen might react to the news of their relationship, and he hoped that the man wouldn't give them any problems. They couldn't technically be split up because of their romantic involvement, but Booth didn't want his boss to find any other reasons to do so.
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They agreed to operate under the assumption that the boy, Donovan, was still alive, and the case progressed more slowly than Booth would have liked. They interviewed the victim's sister as well as Decker's former boss but failed to come to any helpful conclusions. Brennan was able to determine that the victim had been electrocuted, and Angela's mass recognition program helped them to locate the US Attorney who had been Carl Decker's Justice Department 'handler.'
The man, Ken Weeks, was particularly irritated that Booth had pulled his face from a security video and posted it to their 'hot list.' He told Booth and Cullen that they had lost Decker when they were unable to put him in touch with his son that morning. Weeks described Decker as a genius, and Booth returned to the lab hoping that his geniuses had some new information for him.
"If Decker's as smart as they say, how will they catch him?" Brennan asked when he found her in her office.
"Forget Decker, our job is to find his son."
"If Decker doesn't show up to testify…" She didn't need to finish the sentence; he could see the hope in her eyes.
"No. We can't assume they are going to let the boy live."
"Surely KBC isn't going to-"
"Bones, we don't know who hired these guys. KBC, military, disgruntled shareholders, or it could be someone we haven't even thought of yet." He saw a wide and rather smug grin on her face when he looked at her again. "What?"
"You just told me not to jump to a conclusion." She pointed her index finger at him playfully, and he smiled back.
"No offense intended."
"You were right. I usually get to tell you that," she reminded him.
"Well, our relationship has taken a whole new turn."
"That much is obvious," Brennan agreed, her voice lowering to a tone that made Booth wish they had time to close her newly-installed window blinds and play a very adult version of the 'quiet game.'
Unfortunately, Zack strode into her office at that moment and drew their attention back to the case. He spouted some numbers at Brennan that turned out to indicate how much electricity had been forced through the victim's body. Booth realized then that Zack might have some degree of insight into how Decker's mind might work.
"Zack, this guy Decker… He's like you. He's in the whole stratosphere, IQ-wise."
"What's his IQ?" Zack asked, looking intrigued.
"163."
Brennan chuckled proudly. "He's not where Zack is."
"If he's in the stratosphere, I'm in the ionosphere," Zack agreed smugly.
"The point is," Booth said insistently, "Decker escapes the US Marshals, tries to connect with his wife, finds out she's been killed. What does he do next?"
"His IQ is not a variable."
"Intelligence doesn't determine what you do so much as how effectively you do it," Brennan explained.
"It depends on what kind of person he is," Zack added.
"Well, you know...He's a loving father. Estranged from the mother of his child," Booth said awkwardly. Zack stepped closer to Booth and looked him in the eye.
"Sound like anyone you know?"
"Just back out of my personal space there, buddy." But Brennan agreed instantly with Zack's assessment.
"Zack's right. If you were in Decker's position, what would you do?"
Booth met her eyes in alarm, and he knew the answer immediately.
"We need to go," he told her urgently, leaving her office at a near run. She followed close behind him until they reached the SUV, and he called dispatch with their destination to request backup from local police.
"Did you just refer to me as an accessory?" Brennan felt she should probably have her own call number as well and wondered how to get one. It had to be easier than getting a gun. But Booth's mind was on the case.
"You asked me what I would do if I were Decker. They kill my wife, they take my little boy. I'm going to the source of the problem. I take him out." His words were spoken in a pragmatic tone, and she thought she knew what he meant.
"Take him out, like-" Booth gave her a serious look, confirming her assumption. "Oh." Brennan was silent then, wondering if he would do the same for her. But then she remembered the threat he had made to Peter and had her answer. If he'd been willing to do that before they were even involved, what wouldn't he do for her now?
When they arrived at KBC Systems, Booth instructed the night watchman not to let anyone in or out other than the backup that was on the way. Brennan moved alongside him, and he fought the urge to pull her behind his back as he drew his gun.
"I enjoy having you with me, Bones, but I really need you to let the gun go first right now," he warned her. To his surprise, she obeyed without complaint, and they moved forward until they rounded a corner and saw a woman lying on the floor with a bloody nose. Booth recognized her as an attorney he had met with previously. While Brennan remained with the woman for another moment, Booth followed the voices that were coming from an office nearby.
When he entered, Carl Decker had a gun to the head of his former employer, and the older man shouted at Booth to shoot Decker. Brennan had crept into the room behind Booth and spoke to Decker in an even, reasonable tone.
"What you're trying to do-save your son-that's not going to happen if you die here tonight. Be rational, Mr. Decker. What you're planning has failed. You have to adapt."
"Adapt how?" Decker asked wildly. "All I want is for my son to live. You people just took my best chance," he said in resignation. He placed the gun on the desk and allowed Booth to cuff him.
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Cullen and Weeks both attempted to persuade Decker to testify against KBC, to no avail. Booth understood the man's logic perfectly. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Brennan or Parker, even if it meant that others were sacrificed. Decker instructed Booth to give Donovan a code word-Paladin-so that Donovan would know it was safe to trust him once they had located the little boy.
Not long after Brennan had returned to the lab, Booth entered his office to find a small box on his desk and a note which read 'Back Off.' The box contained one of Donovan Decker's fingers. Within minutes, he was walking agitatedly through the glass doors of the lab, and Brennan began to analyze the finger. She determined that the boy was most definitely alive when the finger was severed.
"Who does this?" Brennan asked him in disgust. "Cuts the finger off an eight-year-old boy?"
"Mercenaries. Professionals. They don't feel a thing."
"I feel things, Booth," she said, turning away from her microscope to look at him. His use of the term 'professional' had bothered her.
"I never said you didn't, Bones," he assured her.
"I'm a professional too. I do better work if I only see the finger and not the child. It doesn't mean I'm like them."
Booth could hear the emotion in her voice and was concerned that she might actually think he felt that way about her.
"Look, I know that, Bones. I've said it before-I know who you are. I would never think that you're anything like these people. But what I also know is that they made a big mistake sending us that finger."
"Why? Because it made you mad?"
"No. Because you're going to use it to catch them," he told her with a look of determined pride. "So gather up your squint squad. Let's get to work." She returned his smile, and stood up to do exactly that.
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As he had during the Charlie Sanders case, Booth felt an almost irrational urge to check on his son. He wanted to make sure that he was okay, but he also felt the need to simply hear his voice, talking about happy, little boy kinds of things. And just as before, the conversation eased his mind.
While Booth was on the phone with Parker, Brennan was taking her turn being interviewed by Miss Pickering from the State Department. As Brennan had expected, the stern looking woman wasted no time in asking her questions she couldn't legally answer.
"Can you tell me what you were doing in Cuba?"
"Only if you tell me first."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I don't know your security clearance."
"Well, what is your security clearance?"
"You should check with the State Department."
"I'm from the State Department."
"Then that should make it easy for you."
Miss Pickering was taken aback but remained determined not to let Brennan's coy responses derail her focus. Only Brennan noticed when Booth paused in the doorway, his expression silently asking if he was interrupting. Brennan didn't respond, so he stayed put as the woman from State spoke again.
"When you were in Cuba, did you meet with a man named...Juan Guzman?"
Brennan's eyes widened in shock, and she held up a finger signalling the woman to wait a moment for her answer. Booth watched her pick up the phone and dial a local number from memory.
"Hello. It's Dr. Brennan from the Jeffersonian. You told me to call you if anyone asked about… you know, him." She paused, listening to an old friend ask who it was who wanted to know. "Someone from the State Department named Samantha Pickering," she answered, reading the name from the woman's ID badge. The voice in her ear told her to put the woman on the phone, and Brennan did so.
"Pickering." The woman's face grew instantly pale when the man not only announced his identity but ordered her to suspend her investigation and stay put until someone showed up to destroy her notes. "Yes, sir. Yes, I'll...I'll wait here."
She handed the phone back to Brennan, looking stunned.
"Any more questions?" Brennan asked, slightly amused.
"No. Uh, no, in fact the entire review has been suspended," Pickering answered sheepishly. "I'm to wait here for someone to come and destroy my notes."
Booth was insanely curious, but now wasn't the time for those questions. Instead he entered the room and told her that they might have located the missing boy. Brennan jumped from her chair to follow him, and once they were in the SUV, Booth began to explain how they had figured out where to look.
"Polina didn't make any phone calls from her cell phone after she was kidnapped. But nobody turned it off. When she left the coverage area, the cell phone was automatically assigned a new routing tower."
"You can triangulate her position?" Brennan asked.
"Yeah, to within seventy-five square miles. There were six abandoned gas stations in that area. Five urban, one rural. SWAT team's gonna check them all, but I think it's the rural one."
"Why?"
"Because I used to do this kind of work," he answered through tight lips.
"What, rescuing people?"
Booth loved her even more for the confidence in her assumption, but he couldn't lie to her.
"Or being the person they needed to be rescued from."
"Oh," she replied. He didn't elaborate, and she didn't ask. She knew without a doubt that anyone he had detained in a remote location had to be the kind of person that the world would be better off without.
"If I had a choice, I'd pick the isolated rural one. The place is perfect. It's an abandoned truck repair depot. SWAT team will meet us there." Booth's expression was dark, and Brennan knew he was worried about the boy as well as remembering ugly things from his past. She thought quickly of a way to change the subject slightly.
"Why don't we ever take my car?"
"Do you have bullet-proof vests in the trunk?"
"No."
"That's why."
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When they arrived at the abandoned building, the SWAT team was indeed waiting for their arrival. They geared up to enter the building, but no one handed a vest or a weapon to Brennan.
"What about me?"
"Wait outside."
"But I don't want to miss anything," she replied. This was exactly the sort of situation that she felt required her to protect her partner. Ironically, he was thinking exactly the same thing. No way in hell is she coming inside, Booth thought.
"Bones, these guys aren't like anyone you've ever come up against. Please, just...be someone you aren't for the next ten minutes and hang back. Please," he said, practically begging for her cooperation. Brennan wanted to retort that she had most certainly run into these kinds of people, but instead she simply nodded her assent, wanting him to be focused on his own safety rather than hers.
She waited impatiently as Booth disappeared into the building with several other armed men, pacing a little until she heard the sounds of shots fired. Her feet began to move toward the building without conscious thought, but her progress was halted by yet another bulletproof-vested man. Brennan's mind entered a state of acute panic that didn't subside until her partner exited the building with a small boy in his arms. The unknown man who had stopped her allowed her to push past him then, and she raced toward Booth in relief.
The boy's severed finger was heavily bandaged but still bleeding all over Booth's shirt as he took the child to the ambulance. They waited with the boy until his father arrived, and as they walked together toward the SUV, they crossed paths with Ken Weeks.
"Well done," the man commended Booth begrudgingly.
"Yeah, I hope you're good at your job, Weeks."
"Why's that?"
"Because otherwise, you've got nothing going for you," Booth answered snidely. He continued walking toward his vehicle, but Brennan hung back for a moment.
"He's a father himself," she told Weeks.
"Thank God I always had the sense never to let that happen to me," Weeks said in a jesting tone. Brennan's expression shifted to one of disgust, and she turned quickly to rejoin Booth, who was waiting for her in the SUV.
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"You okay?" He could read the irritation on her face and guessed that Weeks had been the one to put it there.
"Yes. But that man really is heartless. In the metaphorical sense," she added quickly. Booth smiled a little to hear her speaking metaphorically at all and reached over to hold her hand as they drove.
"I agree. I'm glad we don't have to deal with him anymore."
Brennan nodded but remained silent for the majority of the ride back to his place. They were both exhausted and hungry. They had both skipped lunch that day in their focus to locate Donovan Decker. It was now very late, and Booth belatedly recalled his body's need for fuel.
"Hey. Sid's is closed by now, but we could stop by the diner if you want. I know you didn't eat anything today, so you've gotta be hungry," he told her gently. At least he had eaten breakfast. Booth would be willing to bet that his girlfriend had consumed nothing but coffee all day. It would explain why she looked drawn but still somehow awake.
"That's fine. You missed lunch today too," she reminded him, smiling to herself over his relentless desire to feed her.
They sat down at what could already be considered their 'usual table' and ordered their 'usual meals.' Booth mused that before too much longer, the wait staff would have their choices memorized. Brennan's thoughts seemed to be a mile away, and he watched her curiously, trying to decide whether or not to ask what was on her mind. He was saved from the decision in the next moment, however, when she looked him in the eye and asked the last question he'd expected to hear from her.
"Booth, do you want to have more children?"
His face registered the surprise he felt, and he deliberated for a brief moment. He didn't want to scare her off, so he chose his words very carefully.
"Well… sure, maybe someday. But it's not only my decision of course. I would be happy with just Parker, and I would be just as happy with more children." Booth watched her process the information. "Does that make sense?"
"Yes…" Brennan trailed off, then went silent again, sipping her coffee pensively.
"Was there a reason you asked?"
"I just… wondered. This case, as well as that interview this morning… Well, the subject has been on my mind off and on today, and I thought it best to find out where you stood on the matter." She deliberated quietly again, then continued. "I have never imagined having children of my own, mostly because I was fairly certain that my personality wasn't suited for motherhood." Booth opened his mouth, wanting to refute her words, but she continued quickly. "I understand that you don't agree with that assessment," she assured him. "And perhaps I can concede that point. I do feel a strong affection for Parker as well as a desire to make sure he is happy… safe. But I'm not sure that's enough to indicate that I would be a good mother to him or any other child."
Brennan felt flustered and hoped that her words were clear enough to illustrate her point. But Booth understood her perfectly, and he had smiled warmly at the mention of her affection for his son.
"Bones, don't sell yourself short like that." He paused, seeing her confused expression and hurried to clarify. "What I mean is… don't underestimate yourself. You would be a wonderful mother, if you ever decided that it was something you wanted. I have absolutely no doubt about that. But whether you choose that path or not, it won't change the fact that I'll be walking it with you. And I'll be happy with you either way."
Brennan smiled him sweetly, feeling comforted by his encouragement. She hadn't decided anything yet, it was true. But they both knew that the fact that she was even considering having a child at some point in the future was a major change for her. Booth didn't press her with more questions, and she felt extremely appreciative that he understood her so well.
"Thank you, Booth."
"Anytime," he answered, reaching across the table for her hand. He held it in his own for a moment before bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too," she replied with that crooked smile he adored.
After a few minutes of silence, he recalled a question that he hadn't had time to ask earlier.
"Bones… who did you call to get the State Department lady off your back?"
Brennan smiled in satisfaction at the memory of Miss Pickering's discomfort.
"The Secretary of Defense."
Booth inhaled his drink rather painfully and spent the next few moments coughing.
"Are you serious?"
"Of course," she replied succinctly. Booth wondered how exactly she had come to be on such close terms with a person like that in order to be able to call them directly. Without having to look up their number.
"Uh… how exactly…?"
"You really don't want to know. And I can't talk about it anyway."
Booth decided to let it go for the sake of his own sanity and the fact that he very much wanted to sleep soundly that night.
When they had finished eating, she paid the bill quickly before he could argue, and they headed to his apartment. It was now nearly two in the morning, and the stress of the day combined with full stomachs had left them drowsy and worn.
Brennan removed her clothing with heavy-lidded eyes and fell into his bed. Booth copied her movements and reached to pull her toward him, finding her already asleep. He hoped that he could persuade her to go in a little late the next morning so that she could get as much sleep as possible. Booth snuggled her close against his body and inhaled her sweet scent, wondering how he had ever gotten a decent night's sleep without her in his arms.
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Brennan opened her eyes to the still-darkened room and struggled to determine what had woken her. She was groggy and disoriented, but at the second ring of the cell phone from the nightstand next to her, she moved robotically to answer it.
"Brennan," she mumbled sleepily.
"Dr. Brennan?"
"Yes?"
The voice on the other line was silent long enough to make her wonder if the call had failed.
"Hello?" Brennan asked, trying harder to wake up.
"Yes, Dr. Brennan. It's Deputy Director Cullen."
"Oh," she said in confusion. "Why are you calling me, sir?"
"I'm not," he answered, the smile on his face not quite evident in his voice. "I was calling Agent Booth."
Brennan's eyes opened widely then, and stared in shock at the phone in her hand which was most definitely not hers, trying to come up with an appropriate response. None came.
Damn.
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I know the 'answering the wrong phone' thing has been done, but it's just so damn funny. And don't anyone try to tell me they wouldn't like to see BB getting busy in her office. Cause you'd be lying.
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