Time for more? Thank you all so much for the awesome feedback. Whether you're reviewing, following, favoriting, or liking and retweeting the updates on Twitter, it means so much to me.

We're at our time jump. The New Orleans episode gave me a headache trying to piece it all together chronologically, but hopefully I got it sorted it out comprehensively. Also, this chapter is most definitely rated M for Maybe you should have some ice water handy. ;)

Enjoy and leave me some love!

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Chapter 21

The next month flew by in a comfortable routine of crime-solving, novel-writing, and love-making. Brennan's second book was nearing completion, and her publishers were very excited about the chapters she had submitted thus far. Booth still hadn't been given permission to read it yet, but he never failed to 'poke and prod' her about it.

Booth continued to make phone calls and search databases about her parents' disappearance, but he had come up with nothing meaningful. Their lives, at least for the three or four years prior to their disappearance, seemed to have been nothing out of the ordinary. After a handful of phone calls to state and local law enforcement, it became clear that no one had worked the case in a very long time. And those who did had retired or moved on. But Booth refused to give up. There had to be something he was missing. He hadn't told Brennan about his conversation with Russ, since it hadn't really gotten him anywhere in the end. Booth figured that he could always bring it up when there was truly something to discuss.

They had solved three more cases, one of which had necessitated a trip to New Mexico. Angela's part time boyfriend-a man whom she spent time with only three weeks out of each year-had been murdered during the course of a desert photo shoot. Their investigation had turned up an unexpected link to a counterfeiting operation, and the participants had killed the man when he'd witnessed part of their operation.

Their next case had involved the remains of a woman found in the intricate network of tunnels beneath the city. Thanks to the help of a former soldier-turned-tunnel dweller, they'd been able to arrest two rock climbing instructors who had killed the woman over the contents of a long-forgotten vault within the tunnels. It hadn't been the easiest case for Booth. Not only because his girlfriend had seemed determined to take risks without stopping to consider the potential dangers, but also because he had identified on a personal level with the former soldier who had eventually lead them to the murder scene.

The most recent case had taken them to the site of an underwater dig where Hodgins, of all people, had unearthed a seventeenth century pirate skeleton. Unfortunately, the bones turned out to have been stolen from the Jeffersonian by their victim in order to 'salt the shaft.' The man who committed the murder had done so out of anger that the victim had dishonored the memory of his brother, who had died working the dig. Though the team had entertained themselves with the pirate aspect of the case, Booth and Brennan were both glad to see it finished. The murderer had nearly succeeded in drowning Hodgins.

Booth had been forced onto desk duty for a couple of weeks following his injury, but just as he'd promised Brennan, he did heal faster than even she expected. He'd been so thrilled when his doctor had cleared him for sexual activity, that Goodman had nearly caught them in her office. Since that close call, they'd been able to restrain themselves at work for the most part.

Over the course of those first few weeks following the Cugini and Hamilton cases, they had both done a fair bit of emotional healing as well. Booth watched her go about her job each day in an extremely composed and rational manner, and it was then that he realized the true extent of what she'd meant by being 'able to compartmentalize.' Some days it was almost like Brennan had shut off her fear completely, and only Booth could see its remnants hiding behind her beautiful blue eyes. The nights were another matter altogether; she couldn't hide it from anyone while she slept. She'd woken from nightmares many times, but she always seemed to calm down quickly enough when she heard his voice.

Booth had his fair share of nightmares too. After all, losing her was one of his biggest fears, and it had very nearly happened. He wasn't nearly as good at compartmentalizing, but he did his best not to drive Brennan crazy by being overly protective. To his surprise, however, she didn't seem to mind it as much as she once did. She didn't lecture him about it, she rarely rolled her eyes, and other than one risky incident of chasing an unknown man into a dark tunnel, she had taken considerably fewer risks than what he'd come to expect.

The repetitive phone calls had stopped when Brennan changed her number-yet another thing to be thankful for. Booth still wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, and while Brennan took it as a sign that he'd been overreacting for no reason, he resolved to keep it in the back of his mind for the time being. His gut told him that the calls weren't as innocuous as Brennan wanted to believe. Particularly since Peter was due to be released from custody in a week's time.

That was the state of things when Brennan dropped her next bit of news on him…

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Friday

"FEMA wants me in New Orleans next week," she began hesitantly. "There are still a lot of unidentified remains from Katrina."

This would be the first time since they were together that she traveled alone for her job. The terms of their agreement regarding anthropological fieldwork had been fresh in her mind as she'd negotiated her terms for providing assistance. She watched Booth's nervous expression from across the dinner table and waited for him to respond.

"For how long?"

"Just a few days. I'd get down there on Sunday evening, fly back on Thursday morning. They wanted longer, but I told them that was the best I could do."

Booth nodded, considering. He knew that the New Orleans law enforcement was still trying to get a handle on the crime rate that had not receded with the floodwaters. The news coverage coming out of the area showed utter devastation, and Booth didn't need to be a Special Agent to know that Brennan's trip would be at least slightly dangerous. An attractive woman alone in a city like that was a target, hurricane or no.

"I know we talked about you coming with me when I go on digs and such, but this really isn't the same kind of thing. I'd mostly be working in one of the makeshift morgues they've set up, and I'd be surrounded by law enforcement the majority of the time. Whether it's local cops or reservists…"

Booth smiled slightly at her reassurance. "It's not like you need to ask my permission, Bones. This is your job. I get it."

"I wasn't asking permission; I already told them I'd help out for a few days. I just don't want you to worry unnecessarily," she explained, returning his smile.

"Well, I'll probably worry at least a little bit," he conceded. "But there are some things you can do to help with that." Brennan had started to roll her eyes, but she stopped herself and raised her brow inquisitively. "Phone calls. At least two a day to let me know you got from your hotel to the morgue and back again safely. If you can't call, then a text is fine. Don't go anywhere alone, especially at night. And I want to have the details on where you're staying and working in case something happens."

Brennan had pursed her lips a little tighter at each request as he counted them off on his fingertips. She was about to reply when he added one more.

"And promise me that you'll eat at least two meals a day. I know how distracted you can get, and you need to take care of yourself."

She closed her eyes briefly and huffed a little laugh. There really was no point in arguing.

"And if I do those things, you won't worry?"

"No I will. But it'll make me feel better."

Brennan shook her head but conceded. "Fine. I can do that. But I want you to promise me something in return."

"What's that?"

"Stay away from Peter's parole hearing," she told him. Her expression had suddenly become more serious, and she could tell that her request had surprised him. "I know full well that his hearing is on Thursday, and he's due to be released that day. I understand why you probably think you should be there, but I was serious about moving on. Let his parole officer worry about keeping track of him; that's his job."

Booth didn't respond for a few moments, trying to see a way around it.

"No, Bones… I need to look him in the eye again. I need him to know that he can't get to you without going through me. I need to watch him, to see if he's calmed down about the whole thing, to know if he's still a threat."

"Booth, you can't read minds. Even if you were there, you'd have no way of knowing for certain whether he's a threat or not. And he just spent the last four months in jail because of what he did to me. Not to mention the way you went after him in the interrogation… you had his feet off the floor, Booth. He's not likely to forget how you feel about things."

"It's not enough," he argued. "In fact, given his anger issues, he's more likely to want to get back at one or both of us."

"And if he tries anything stupid, we're practically always together. He can't take us both." Her eyes were pleading in a way that Booth was never able to ignore. How the hell does she do that? Eventually he nodded his agreement. He had already intended to keep in touch with the parole officer in addition to attending the hearing. That communication would have to be enough.

"Thank you," she said, smiling once more. She got up to clear the table, and he followed to help her. There were only a few dishes from their dinner, so she took his suggestion and left them in the sink for the night.

They had better things to do.

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Saturday

"You're using vacation days for this?" Booth asked her incredulously. The Jeffersonian was a federally-funded institution, at least in part. If one government agency wanted her help, it didn't seem right that she was to be penalized by another for providing it.

"Yes, well… it's complicated. But it's just four days. I have another month's worth left over for the year. Usually I save them to travel at Christmas and in the summer, but… maybe we could take a trip somewhere together?" Brennan asked tentatively.

"Mmm, great idea," he praised, pulling her away from her half-packed suitcase and into his arms. He swayed, dancing their bodies back and forth a little as he nuzzled her neck. "Warm, sunny beach… you in a bikini… nice hotel room with a jacuzzi tub…" He punctuated each suggestion with a kiss to the side of her throat, and she responded to the contact as well as the images he was creating.

"That sounds… very appealing," she replied, twisting her fingers into his hair. She pulled his head back from her and caught his lips in a passionate kiss. Booth's arms tightened around her, and he walked her slowly backward toward the bed. Brennan's hands moved purposefully toward his pants, making quick work of the belt and buttons while he reached beneath her shirt to unclasp her bra. As soon as her hands had finished their task, he lifted both over her head to remove her clothing.

Booth released a sigh of longing as he gazed at the gorgeous expanse of soft skin he'd revealed. He bent his head quickly to capture the hardened tip of her breast with his mouth, easing her backward until they were both laying on the bed. She writhed beneath him, stroking the back of his head with one hand and trying to remove the rest of her clothing with the other. After a few moments of struggling, he paused in his ministrations to assist her, casting off his own shirt in the process.

Brennan luxuriated in the rewarding sensation of his skin against hers. She was more than ready for him, but she felt the need to draw things out a while longer. They'd made love for hours the previous evening, knowing that it would be a long week away from each other when she left tomorrow. She was going to miss him, she'd realized. They hadn't spent a night apart in months, and she wasn't entirely sure that her own ability to sleep hadn't become dependent on his presence.

She encouraged him to flip onto his back, pulling her along with him to straddle his hips. The wet heat of her center pressed deliciously against the throbbing length of him, but she kept him from making the necessary adjustments to enter her properly. Instead, the head of his arousal pressed firmly against her clit, and her hips moved only enough to torment him with the sensation.

"Bones," he groaned, placing both hands on her hips in an attempt to guide her. But Brennan shook her head at him and smiled seductively.

"Not yet." Their lips met again, and she whimpered with her own need. He allowed her to control their movements for a little while, running his hands up and down her torso from her hips to her full breasts and back again.

Booth panted with the effort to hold back until she was ready, but her teasing pushed him steadily toward his breaking point. He startled her by slipping a hand beneath each of her thighs and lifting her away from his body. But Brennan was even more surprised by his next movements. He simultaneously urged her body forward on the bed while he moved his own in the opposite direction. Before she'd even completely realized his intentions, she was leaning slightly against his chest, and he had moved his arms underneath her legs. The first touch of his tongue to her core sent a shock of pleasure tingling through her body.

"Booth!" She was quickly at the cusp of her first release as he moved his mouth skillfully beneath her. His tongue penetrated her repeatedly in a steady rhythm, but she struggled to delay her own pleasure. She never seemed to stop wanting more of him, and she clutched the top of the headboard to steady herself.

He moved his hands behind her to clasp her buttocks and pull her harder still against his mouth, and when his teeth clamped lightly on her clit, she could hold back no longer. She screamed and trembled against him, his mouth still working diligently until the spasms slowed. Brennan watched his smoldering gaze meet hers once more and was sure she felt him smile against her flesh.

However, before she could compose herself enough to say a word, he'd flipped her onto her back again. Booth settled his hips between her thighs and thrust home in one quick movement. She shuddered with pleasure again, and opened her eyes to look into his as he set a pounding rhythm.

She moved her hands in sensual patterns over the smooth musculature of his back, enjoying the weight of him on top of her, and their eye contact never broke, even when she shattered for a second time only moments later. Booth watched her eyes change color as she came, and the beauty of it sent him tumbling over the edge shortly thereafter.

Booth collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily into her silky hair for several moments while he collected himself.

"God, Bones. That was amazing."

Brennan hugged her to him and relished in the feel of him, covering her torso completely and still pulsating within her. Her own spasms had only just begun to dissipate, and she struggled for coherency.

"Yes. It still seems to get better each time. I'm not even sure how that's possible."

Booth smiled happily and eased slowly out and off of her. He gathered her to his chest and stroked her velvety skin, utterly content.

"That's because it's us, baby," he told her, kissing her softly. Anyone else might have thought he was being arrogant, but she knew what he meant. He'd never experienced sex this intensely, and neither had she. It was only this incredible because of the connection they felt with one another. Shortly after they'd begun their intimate relationship, she had asked him if it would always be like this. Intense. Fulfilling. Wonderful. He had told her it would, and though she'd believed him, the acute passion of their lovemaking still had the ability to stun her.

They laid together for a while longer: talking, kissing, touching. Delaying the inevitable. Brennan had to finish packing so that she would be ready for her flight the next morning. She'd never felt a reluctance to travel for work, usually feeling rather excited at the prospect of learning something new or helping those in need. And while she did feel called to offer the benefit of her unique skill set in New Orleans, she couldn't help but feel a little wistful that she would lose precious time with Booth.

It would be a long four days indeed.

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Sunday

Brennan arrived in New Orleans in the late afternoon and took a cab to the bed and breakfast where FEMA had found a room for her. She lingered only long enough to freshen up and make sure her bag contained everything she would need before heading out again. She had called Booth once her plane had landed, and he'd asked her to let him know when she was in for the night. Brennan felt oddly energized, however, and she had a feeling that her night would be very late indeed. She wanted to get as much accomplished as humanly possible during her short stay.

She gave the cab driver the address of the church-turned-morgue where she would be working, and settled against the back seat to gaze out the window. She'd seen the devastation between the airport and her room, but it seemed to strike her anew. It wasn't the worst disaster aftermath she'd ever witnessed, but it was close. Entire neighborhoods were swept away or were left in states of collapse and decay. The structures which still stood were boarded up, some graffitied with spray paint indicating that the dwelling was empty or that there had been remains inside which must be removed. Thousands were missing and might never be found, and Brennan felt the familiar pull to give names to as many of the dead as she could manage.

Upon her arrival at the morgue, she was introduced to a handful of people who would be working alongside her that week. The medical examiner, Dr. Graham Legiere, an assistant medical examiner named Dr. James Embry, and two orderlies by the names of Mike Doyle and Sam Potter. She would later be introduced to a Detective Rose Harding as well, who was handling the investigations for those remains which appeared to have been the victim of foul play.

Brennan got quickly to work, focusing on her tasks diligently as the meaningless conversations of her colleagues took place around her. She generally preferred to work alone in situations like this, but it couldn't be helped. The city needed as many qualified hands as possible. The first evening, she stayed late into the night, texting Booth around eleven that she would be staying late to work but that she had at least eaten dinner. She ate her FEMA-supplied food ration as she read Booth's response. He implored her not to stay up all night working. He knew her so well, she thought wryly. She smiled down at her phone and made no promises in her reply, telling him that she loved him and would talk to him in the morning.

"In love, huh?" Mike Doyle asked as he plopped down next to her with his own dinner. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Not much else puts a look like that on a woman's face," he explained. Brennan smiled and nodded.

"Yes," she replied simply. She was most certainly in love.

"He back home? Or, uh… she?" Mike asked awkwardly.

"He is back in DC, yes."

The orderly nodded and looked as though he might say something else, but Brennan had finished her food and took the opportunity to excuse herself. Chatting with a person she would most likely never see again didn't feel like a productive use of her time.

Brennan worked into the wee hours before finally finding space on a church pew to rest for a short while. She closed her eyes for perhaps an hour but was awoken by someone addressing her. Dr. Legiere had touched her shoulder gently to rouse her.

"There's no need for you to sleep here, Dr. Brennan. Go back to your room and get some rest; start again tomorrow."

Brennan quashed the urge to correct him that it was already 'tomorrow' and noticed that the sun was beginning to lighten the sky on the other side of the tall sanctuary windows.

"I'm fine. I won't be in town for long, and I prefer to complete as many identifications as possible."

She rose from her seat and stretched, rolling the stiffness her spine and neck. Dr. Legiere watched her intently, and when she took off in the direction of the room she'd been using the day before, he followed her. She would've said she could feel his eyes on her ass, but of course that was impossible.

Graham Legiere was a decent-looking man. Not nearly as good looking as Booth, she noted. But he had a sort of charm about him and seemed to be in good spirits despite the grim nature of their work. Each time Brennan looked up from her task to make a notation or sign off on an ID, the man seemed to be looking at her. She didn't feel quite as uncomfortable as she had with Jesse Kane, but Dr. Legiere's penetrating gaze was still a bit unsettling.

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Monday

It was still a little early to call Booth, but she felt an inexplicable need to hear his voice. She excused herself and went in search of some privacy and smiled widely when he answered on the first ring.

"Hey, baby!" Booth greeted her playfully.

"Are you really going to keep calling me that?" She had let it slide a few times in the past week or so. Perhaps more often than she'd thought, she realized. Booth laughed in amusement at her less-than-weighty disapproval.

"You like it. Just a little bit."

"Do not."

"Do too."

Brennan sighed, smiling to hear his voice and enjoying their light bickering. It was who they were. He paused as well, and she could imagine that his grin mirrored her own.

"So how late did you stay last night?" Booth asked, his tone indicating that he already knew the answer.

"Well…"

"All night, right?"

"I did take a nap," she insisted half-heartedly.

"Have you at least eaten again since you texted last night?"

Brennan was silent, and Booth took it as confirmation of his suspicions.

"Bones, you promised. You have to eat. And you have to sleep too. More than just the couple of hours I'm betting you got sitting against a wall or something. Don't make me come down there." He said the last sentence jokingly in the tone of a parent who meant business. She snorted.

"I know, Booth. I'm sorry. I'm actually heading to get some breakfast right now, which is why it seemed like a good time to call." Brennan moved toward the common area to make good on her statement.

"Okay," he replied, sounding mollified.

They spoke for a little while longer, discussing their plans for the following weekend and what Booth had on his agenda for that day. Before long, she'd finished her food and was ready to get back to work. She didn't want to end the call, shuffling slowly back to her workspace.

"I miss you," she admitted.

"I miss you too. You know, I could still come down there… make sure you're making time to eat, sleep...do other things," he teased her. His tone was only half joking.

"Thanks, but I'm sure I can manage. The eating and the sleeping, that is. The 'other things' will have to wait." Booth could hear the smile in her voice and sighed, wishing it was Thursday instead of Monday.

"Alright, Bones. I'll let you go. Talk to you later?"

"Yeah, I'll call when I get to a stopping point this evening. I love you."

"I love you too."

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Sixteen hours later, Brennan was still working. It was nearly midnight in New Orleans, and her phone buzzed loudly from her pocket. She glanced at the clock and cursed under her breath. She didn't have to be a genius to know who was calling.

"Brennan."

"Tell me you fell asleep in that nice room at the B&B you were telling me about. That's why you didn't call, right?" She cringed a little, noting the fatigue in his voice, and she hoped he hadn't been waiting up.

"Um… not quite. But I'm headed that way pretty soon."

"Uh huh. And food?"

"I ate," she said vaguely. At lunch. Her co-workers had insisted on taking her to a local jambalaya place which had reminded her pleasantly of the diner. "Stop worrying. I'm just fine, and I'll call you in the morning on my way back here, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he answered gruffly. He could only do so much from so far away.

"I'll finish this last ID and go. I'm nearly done. How was your day?"

"S'okay. Just wish you were back. Cullen was in a shitty mood all day. Something's going on with his kid."

"I didn't know he had a child," Brennan remarked with interest, documenting the last few details on the clipboard in her hand. "How old?"

"Yeah, a daughter. She's about fifteen I think. I don't know what's going on, but he's not acting like himself."

"Hmm. Well adolescents can be rebellious. Perhaps it's something like that. You sound exhausted, Booth. Go to bed, okay?"

"Yeah," he answered, failing to stifle a yawn. "Please go back to your room and get some rest tonight," he urged her.

"I'll do my best," she offered.

"Bones."

"I was kidding. I'll go, I promise."

"Thank you," he said genuinely. Brennan chuckled a little.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For caring. It's nice. Even if it does drive me a little crazy," she joked. Booth gave a tired laugh.

"Fair enough. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yes. Sleep well."

They exchanged their I Love Yous and hung up. Brennan did return to her room for a few hours of sleep, but she felt too restless to stay in bed longer than that. She'd been correct about trying to sleep alone. She couldn't seem to turn her mind off or get comfortable enough for restful sleep. Brennan knew the reason, and she had a sense of ambivalence toward the matter. Her independent nature rebelled against the very idea of being so attached to anyone that their absence could affect her so greatly. But at the same time, she could never imagine feeling anything but grateful that Booth was in her life, that he returned her love in equal measure. If having him meant giving up a little of her independence, then she supposed she could live with that.

He was worth it.

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Tuesday

Brennan had started early that morning, having one identification complete before her colleagues had even arrived. It was a tedious process. With her FBI cases, she enjoyed a sense of accomplishment each time they solved a murder. With her Bone Storage cases, each one felt like a tinier step in the right direction, especially since there were always so many more still waiting to be identified. She enjoyed working them primarily because she often did the work in quiet solitude. Brennan found it relaxing.

This setup, however, was certainly not relaxing, and it felt like an endless task. There were always more bodies coming in, two or three to every one she completed. It was disheartening, even if it wasn't anything she hadn't dealt with before.

That afternoon, Brennan did her best to focus on her work while her co-workers chatted around her. Working with a group comprised solely of males had made her privy to many conversations she could have done without hearing. Not the worst of which was Mike Doyle's boasting about his sexual exploits with a woman who was apparently turned on by dead bodies. He shared his story with Legiere as he rolled another body into the room.

What made the situation humorous was that Mike and Dr. Legiere were also being overheard by Zack, who was video conferencing to discuss some things she'd sent to him for analysis. Mike apologized for offending her nonexistent 'feminine sensibilities,' but she waved his words away and begun her preliminary examination of the new body. Zack, however, couldn't seem to help himself.

"Some libidos are inflamed by a proximity to death."

"Who's that?" Mike asked, not having been aware that anyone else was listening.

"My assistant, Zack, back in DC," Brennan explained. She turned the laptop around to show Mike and Legiere Zack's boyish features.

"Congratulations on your coffin sex," Zack commended.

"Mm-hmm," Legiere agreed, trying to maintain a straight face. Mike looked embarrassed.

"I've got work to do," he blustered, and he left the room.

Turning the attention back to the task at hand, she explained to Zack that the flooding unearthed remains that had already been embalmed and buried. Part of the job was identifying them for reburial, which meant the number of remains to be identified was far larger than the estimated number of hurricane fatalities. Brennan sighed again, feeling the weight of the undertaking.

Zack offered to fly down and assist her, but Brennan declined, reasoning that she would be leaving Thursday morning. She ended the call and noticed Graham Legiere in her peripheral, hovering on the opposite side of her exam table. He began to circle around it as he spoke.

"You know, there are reasons they call this The Big Easy, even after Hurricane Katrina." She didn't look up at him until a loud noise startled her. He had attempted to rest his hand on an exam tray as he passed it and had knocked it to the ground, scattering the medical instruments noisily. She gave a tiny, nervous laugh and was then distracted by the entrance of Dr. Embry and Detective Harding. Dr. Embry glanced over the file on the body she'd just started to examine.

"Dr. Brennan, meet John Doe 361."

"We found this one in the 9th Ward, sticking out of the mud," Harding explained. Legiere moved around to stand next to Brennan.

"Good afternoon, Detective Harding," Brennan said distractedly. She gave a quick assessment. "Male, forties."

"Badly decomposed. Looks pretty banged up," Embry added, handing the chart to Legiere.

"Yeah. Be nice to know if it was hurricane, flood, or foul play that killed him," Harding told them. Legiere had given the chart a cursory glance but looked up to address Harding.

"Detective Harding, have you been into the cooler lately? Apparently some libidos are inflamed by the proximity to death," he joked suggestively. Brennan's brow furrowed but she she didn't look at him. Over the past two days, the man had flirted with every woman who'd entered the room.

"God, Graham," Harding replied in disgust, "Thinking about sex in a place like this should be illegal. If it isn't already." She shook her head and left without another word.

Brennan spotted Sam Potter through the doorway and got his attention, explaining that she would need x-rays of John Doe 361. He nodded and entered the room to wait while Brennan covered the body in plastic.

"You've been working 48 hours straight. You need the evening off," Legiere encouraged, continuing the conversation he'd begun before displacing the exam tray.

"I only have one vacation day left," she replied distantly.

"What are you...doing penance for FEMA?" he joked. "Why don't you let me cook you dinner tonight?" His tone was friendly and only a little suggestive compared to some of the things he'd said to her that day. She had tried to avoid jumping to the conclusion that he was indeed flirting with her, as she was never all that skilled at picking up on things like that, and he had been vague enough to leave her with a fair degree of uncertainty.

Asking to cook her dinner was a clear invitation to his home, however. And coming from this man, she felt safe in assuming that it was also an invitation for sex.

"I appreciate the offer," she lied politely, "but I don't think it's a good idea. Besides, I'm seeing someone." His expression remained hopeful.

"Come on. I'm a southern gentleman, ma'am. Your honor will be respected," he insisted.

"Yeah," Sam scoffed before wheeling the body off for x-rays. Clearly she wasn't the only one who felt a bit wary of Legiere's character.

"Thanks, but I'll get something to eat later." Brennan was hungry, having skipped lunch that day, but she had no desire to spend time alone with him.

She busied herself with other tasks until Sam returned with the x-rays. They showed, among other things, that a foreign object was lodged behind the teeth, and both men watched as she removed it carefully. She had no idea what to make of it, but Sam spoke up to explain.

"It is a gris-gris bag. Used in the practice of voodoo to prevent the dead man from speaking." Brennan raised her brows and examined the tiny pouch more closely.

"Do you practice voodoo? It would be helpful to have more information. The evidence suggests this man was indeed murdered."

"Yes. I would be happy to assist any way I can. This particular spell is Secte Rouge." Sam saw the confusion deepen in her features and continued, "It is...dark voodoo."

Brennan glanced back at the body and quickly considered her options. There was no way she would have time to solve a murder before her flight on Thursday, but she could at least give Detective Harding as much information as possible to get her started.

"I'm going to send copies of the x-rays to my assistant at the Jeffersonian, but in the meantime, I'd like to discuss the voodoo aspect of the case with you. Perhaps over dinner?" Some might have questioned her motives for the suggestion, had they not heard the business-like tone she used.

"Certainly, Dr. Brennan. I can be ready to leave in the next twenty minutes or so," Sam answered politely. Neither of them had so much as glanced at Graham Legiere while they'd conversed, but he spoke up suddenly.

"Sounds interesting, I'll tag along if you don't mind." He directed his next words only to Brennan. "Maybe we can grab a drink afterward."

She looked away uncomfortably but didn't argue. Perhaps he should hear what Sam had to say as well, since he would be remaining behind to help with the case after she left. After she dropped the x-rays into the outbox and called Zack to let him know they were coming, she sent a quick text to Booth.

'Heading to dinner with coworkers. Will probably work late again, so I'll call you in the morning. Love you.

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Booth sat back in his office chair and read the text with a mixture of feelings. First and foremost, it was nice to see that she was eating a meal without his urging her to do so. But apparently that bit of progress came at a price. Who knows how late she would end up working this time. But Booth resisted the urge to chastise her for it. She was a workaholic; he'd known that from the beginning. In fact, Cullen was planning to be out of the office for the rest of the week, so he would probably be working late the next couple of days well.

He sighed a bit morosely as he replied, thanking her for letting him know and telling her he loved her as well. Booth tried not to be too disappointed that he wouldn't be hearing her voice that night. He'd had a devil of a time trying to sleep since she'd been gone, and what he really wanted was to go home and find her there waiting for him in his bed. If only.

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Wednesday

Booth tried not to watch the clock too obsessively. She had said she would call that morning, but it was now no longer morning in New Orleans. He shook off the discomfort he felt and assured himself that she had probably just gotten caught up in her work and lost track of the time again. He could've called, but he was reluctant to interrupt her. She'll be home tomorrow, and I'm overreacting, he thought. Booth did send a text, however, just asking if everything was okay.

By five o'clock, he had stopped trying to reassure himself and picked up the phone to call Angela. Brennan wasn't answering his calls or texts, and Angela hadn't heard from her either. Apparently Brennan had sent some x-rays of a John Doe to the lab, and they should be arriving tomorrow morning. But no one had actually spoken to her since yesterday evening.

Booth did his best to remain calm, but his gut was screaming that something had gone wrong. By midnight, he'd had enough. He quickly threw a few things into a duffle bag and headed to the airport.

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Thursday

Brennan woke in a haze of pain. Pain in her head, her arm, her ear, her mouth… She could tell she'd been injured but didn't understand how. She opened her eyes slowly, coughing blood into her mouth and grimacing at the metallic taste. A wave of cold confusion washed over her when she realized what she was seeing. Blood… It was everywhere. She was laying on the tile floor in the bathroom of her bed and breakfast suite, and a puddle of dark red blood had gathered beneath her head.

She sat up experimentally, gaging the pain and cataloging her injuries as she moved. Definite concussion, she noted, busted lip, bruises to the ribs and chest… Broken wrist, she added mentally, gasping in pain after trying to use her hand to pull herself up from the floor. When she finally got to her feet, she looked at her own reflection and was stunned. There was blood all over face, her neck, her clothing, her hands… Her wrist was bruised darkly. What had happened?

Brennan tried to piece together an explanation for her condition, but she could recall no more than a few brief flashes of memory. More blood...covering someone's hands, dripping down a wall from someone's body, a hand impaled with some sort of metal instrument, an infinity symbol painted with blood on a wall, a bloody knife on a different tiled floor than the one she stood on now… Legiere's smiling face.

Her mind worked frantically to come up with more details, but nothing was clear. Brennan's eyes rested upon her left ear in concern. One of her mother's earrings had been ripped out, and it had bled quite a bit as well. All things considered, a lost earring should be inconsequential. But Brennan had been permitted to take very little from her home before entering the system. It had been even harder to hold onto things when prying foster siblings or other children in the group homes took an interest in her possessions.

The landline rang from the sitting room, and she moved slowly to answer it. What time is it?

"Hello?" Brennan sat gingerly on the sofa with the phone.

"Dr. Brennan, your airport shuttle is here," said the voice on the other end.

"What? No… Um. My flight isn't til Thursday," she argued groggily.

"Today is Thursday, Dr. Brennan."

Brennan lowered the phone in bewilderment. Thursday?

"What happened to Wednesday?" she mumbled, ignoring the voice on the phone for a moment. She grappled again with her complete lack of comprehension, but she simply couldn't make sense of the time loss. Her wrist throbbed a bit more painfully, and she raised the phone to her ear again. The woman was still talking to her, and Brennan finally responded.

"You can tell the airport shuttle to leave. I can't go home today. Charge my card for another... two nights in this room. And call me a cab, please. I'll need the address of the nearest emergency clinic."

The receptionist agreed quickly and gave her the location before hanging up to complete Brennan's other instructions.

Brennan remained on the couch, still disoriented. Booth. If it was Thursday, had she talked to him yesterday? Maybe he would know… She managed to locate her cell phone and was dismayed to see the number of missed calls and texts, both from Booth and the lab. Apparently she hadn't spoken to anyone yesterday. Could she have really been unconscious for that long? It was early morning now, nearly six. Brennan pressed the speed dial to call Booth. It went straight to voicemail, and she scowled in disappointment. It wasn't like him to turn his phone completely off.

"Booth, it's me. I won't be coming home today, I'm sorry. Something… something happened. I don't really remember... I'm okay, but I had some sort of accident, and I need to get checked out… There's an emergency clinic down the street from where I'm staying. I'll call you as soon as I know more. Don't try to come down here, I'll be fine. And I'll be home as soon as I can... I love you."

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Booth exited the gate at a brisk pace, dodging other travelers and reading the signs to find the car rental desk. He'd managed to snag a last minute seat on a flight out of DC, and he'd spent the last few hours doing his best not to panic. He reached into his pocket to turn his phone back on, praying that she'd sent him a text or called since he last checked it.

His spirits lifted when he saw that she'd left a voicemail no more than a half hour ago, but his anxiety returned rapidly when he heard her voice. He hadn't heard her sound like that in weeks. Not since the day he'd pulled her off of a hook in an abandoned warehouse. He recognized her tone. Her words were reassuring, but she sounded disoriented...and terrified. Pained. She'd spoken to the EMTs in a similar way as she'd tried to convince them that she was fine.

An accident? What did that mean? She doesn't remember? Bones is taking herself to get checked out? That news stunned him. He'd had to drag her to the ER after Peter assaulted her, and he was fairly certain that she would've foregone medical treatment after Kenton as well, if they hadn't been heading to the hospital anyway. Booth shook his head at her instruction to stay in DC. Yeah, right.

He flashed his badge to speed up the car rental process and punched the address of her bed and breakfast into the GPS. He'd ask for directions to the clinic there if he didn't see it on the way.

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The clinic was only a few blocks from where she was staying, but Brennan didn't feel up to walking even that short distance. The cab driver and the receptionist had both eyed her with alarm and concern, but she knew that her clothes and skin would be full of evidence that needed to be collected. So she'd left her room in the same state she'd been in when she regained consciousness.

It had occurred to her that the only person she could see in her dim memory was Graham Legiere, and she thought that he'd tried to get her over to his place for dinner. Or was it drinks? That was Tuesday. Had she gone? The last clear memory she could call up was him knocking over a tray of medical tools.

I had to have been drugged, she reasoned. But for what purpose? The brief flashes of bloody hands and walls returned to her, but she tried to see beyond them. Legiere had been smiling at her, maybe laughing. Had he put something in her drink? Had he raped her? Her eyes widened as that thought sunk in. She shifted a bit, checking for pain in her vaginal area which she might not have noticed at first. There wasn't any. She was in the same clothes she recalled wearing on Tuesday. But if she'd missed a day, then she'd also missed a birth control pill.

The thought continued to gnaw at her as she realized the cab had stopped. Brennan attempted to pay the fare, but the driver hadn't set the meter. He refused to take her money and urged her to get into the clinic quickly. She was touched by his kindness and thanked him as she grabbed her bag from the seat next to her. She'd gotten a clean change of clothing together and thrown it into her shoulder bag with a few other odds and ends. Before leaving her room, she'd also called Detective Harding. She was the only law enforcement professional Brennan knew in New Orleans.

Her bloodied state ensured her a fast track through the waiting room, and she allowed the young doctor to examine her and clean her wounds before x-raying her right wrist. Brennan quietly asked for a rape kit, and the doctor completed it quickly. Her clothing was folded and set aside, and she changed into a hospital gown.

Harding entered the room then, looking concerned as she took in the state of Brennan's folded clothes and bruises.

"Detective Harding… I didn't know who else to call."

Harding nodded and instructed the doctor to take blood samples from the clothing.

"Maybe we'll get lucky, and they won't all come from you. Still hazy on the details?" she asked kindly.

"I'm not hazy on the details. I… I don't remember anything."

"Nothing?"

"Um… Dr. Legiere knocking over a tray of instruments in the morgue… Then...nothing."

"That was the day before yesterday," Harding replied, troubled.

"I requested a rape kit," Brennan said vaguely.

"No sign of sexual activity, forced or otherwise," the doctor reported.

There was a commotion outside the door, and it burst open to reveal a frantic-looking Booth. He ignored the nurse who was attempting to stop him from entering and rushed straight to Brennan's side.

"Bones! You okay?"

"Booth, I told you not to come," she looked at him in shock. How did he get here so quickly? Booth reached for her but hesitated, uncertain of where injuries were. She interpreted his caution and reached for his hand with her uninjured one. "I'm okay," she assured him. "How are you here?"

"Who's this?" Harding asked, intrigued.

"My partner, he's FBI," Brennan answered. Booth ignored the woman entirely.

"I was already on a plane when you called; that's why my phone was off. I missed your call by maybe thirty minutes. Jesus, Bones, what happened?" He was breathing heavily with his agitation. "You remember anything?"

"The tray falling over…" she answered with a sigh.

"Why can't she remember anything?" Booth asked the doctor sharply.

"Well, it could be the head injury…"

"Hairline stress fracture on my right distal radius, concussion, slight fever, torn earlobe… I lost one of my favorite earrings." She removed her remaining earring and showed it to him. Booth was frustrated and concerned.

"You're worried about an earring? You should really be worried about losing a whole day."

"I know, it's stupid. But these earrings were my mother's." Booth's expression softened in comprehension. He knew what it must've taken to hold onto them all this time. The doctor spoke up from across the room.

"Amnesia caused by any traumatic event, injury, or drug can erase memories before the event, not just after."

"Great, we'll just wait for a tox screen," Booth replied, trying tame his anxiety. It was easier now that he could see her and touch her.

"It's gonna be at least twenty-four hours," the doctor informed him apologetically.

"Twenty-four hours?"

"Well, most of the labs in the area were destroyed by the hurricane."

"We'll find out what happened," Harding assured him. "You just take care of your… uh… partner."

Booth glanced back at her as she left the room but didn't respond. Instead he lifted his free hand to touch Brennan's face gingerly. The contact was so light, she almost didn't feel it. He turned her chin slightly to examine her bruises and torn earlobe before his eyes met hers. She was overwhelmed at the emotion she saw there, and she closed the short distance between them to touch her lips gently to his.

The doctor smiled at them and excused himself quietly, but they neither saw nor heard him. Brennan shook her head in wonder. Once again, he was here when she needed him. Knight in shining armor indeed, she thought, hoping she got the phrase right. His eyes had softened a little, but his expression remained a mixture of concern, anger, worry, and love. At least the panic had receded.

"What?" he asked, wondering why she was shaking her head.

"You're here," she said simply, allowing him to wrap her into a gentle embrace.

"How could I be anywhere else?"

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All together now: Awwwww. Even I said it after I wrote it. :) Bones tomorrow, next chapter on Friday!