And... We're back again, trucking on toward the thrilling conclusion. I'll be giving you guys at least a couple of chapters a day for the remainder of the weekend, and we'll have this puppy wrapped up in no time. Thanks as always for the wonderful feedback, and sorry if I've caused premature aging in any of you guys. I know it's been a rocky road for these guys lately!

Chapter Twenty-Five

Diggs procured an ATV to take them to the boat he said was waiting for them. Brennan finally got the latest weather report just before they left, and wasn't at all pleased: The storm system that had ravaged the island for the past twenty-four hours would be passing soon, but a cold front was moving in on its heels. Less snow, but temperatures were expected to drop well below zero, with a wind chill that would make any time spent outside a deadly venture.

Brennan thought again of the pain she'd felt in her chest nearly an hour ago now. She had no explanation for that, but she was having a difficult time simply dismissing it. Booth would be certain it meant something – he would attribute it to some psychic link, or a sign from God. Naturally, Brennan wasn't willing to go that far, but until Booth was back to act as the less rational partner in their duo, she decided she would simply have to play both roles. If it were Booth, she had no doubt that he would follow that mysterious feeling in his chest to the ends of the earth if it was her safety that was in question.

By ATV, the ride over snowy roads and snowier fields to the other side of the island took just under fifteen minutes. Brennan held onto Diggs' sides and kept her head down to avoid the icy snow flying at them, the cold already biting despite the layers she wore. When they reached their destination, she was pleasantly surprised by the vessel that awaited them; she had been expecting just another fishing boat, but this was closer to a trawler. The engine was already roaring when she and Diggs climbed aboard.

"Whose boat is this?" she shouted above the noise.

"An old buddy of mine," he shouted back. "This thing has fished the waters from here to Alaska and back – not much keeps her grounded."

He nodded toward a door leading to a set of stairs descending below deck. "Go on in out of the cold – I'll be right down."

She felt a sudden twinge of apprehension. How much did she really know about this man? Angela might have trusted him fifteen years ago, but Angela didn't have the best track record when it came to trustworthy men, historically speaking. Diggs apparently noticed the reaction, because he offered a reassuring smile.

"I'm just going up to tell Seth we're ready to go – you can come meet him if you want."

"I'd like that." Diggs didn't seem offended by her obvious skepticism, at least, which she found a more concrete basis for trust than a mere smile.

He led them up to the pilothouse, at the top of the boat looking down on roiling seas. A portly, surprisingly young man – early thirties at most, Brennan suspected – wearing coveralls and a winter hat grinned at them both as they came up the steps.

"You ready for this?" he shouted. A cigarette dangled from his lips, a scruffy beard on his cherubic face.

"Seth, this is Dr. Brennan – her partner's one of the folks we're missing right now."

"We'll find him," the man said, with utmost confidence. He shook his head ruefully. "Leave it to Erin, huh?" he asked, directing the question at Diggs. "The girl attracts trouble like flies to a shithouse."

Diggs glanced at Brennan, obviously concerned that she might be offended. She wasn't in the least.

"Do you know where we're going?" she asked.

Again, Seth glanced at Diggs. "Payson Isle, I'm guessin'?"

"It's as good a start as any," Diggs agreed.

The engine roared even more loudly and the great boat creaked, belching diesel fumes as Seth eased it away from the dock. He nodded back toward the pilothouse door.

"You two go on down below, try and keep warm. I'll let you know when we're getting close."

Brennan looked out at the grey horizon and the seemingly endless stretch of black ocean before them and was overcome with a sense of hopelessness. She pushed the feeling aside. Booth had only been gone a few hours; there was no reason to believe he wasn't fine. In all likelihood, he was just waiting out the storm on one of the islands until the weather cleared.

Diggs opened the pilothouse door once more, his hand at the small of Brennan's back as he led them outside once more.

"We'll find them," he said.

She wished she felt half as certain.

The smell of diesel fuel was worse in the close quarters below deck. Given the choice between the fumes and the possibility of freezing to death in the open air, Brennan was hard pressed to make her decision. She and Diggs sat facing one another at a small table in the corner of the room, surrounded by brightly-painted pipes and mysterious-looking gauges. Diggs had a notepad and pen with him, and continually jotted down notes as the ride progressed.

During one such episode, Brennan peered across the table with frank curiosity, trying to decipher his handwriting.

"What are you writing?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly. He looked up, pushing the notepad aside as he met her eye. "Just scribbling – it helps me think. Sorry. I'm usually better company."

"You're concerned about your friend," she said. "I can understand that."

"Well, yeah, but lapsing into catatonia almost never helps these things."

She noticed that he didn't actually put the pen and paper away, though he did refocus his attention.

"So – change of subject is in order, I think." He smiled, though he was still visibly distracted. "What about you and Booth – how'd you two meet?"

"Work," she said. "He asked for my assistance on a case." She found it impossible not to smile at the memory: Booth in his staid tie and his government-issue haircut, his eyes catching hers across the lecture hall that first day.

"How long have you been together?"

"Five years." She hesitated. "Oh – you mean romantically, or professionally?"

"Is there a difference?"

She laughed outright. "Sometimes I wonder," she confessed. "I think that's the reason the relationship has been successful for me thus far – I've never been very good at separating the professional and the personal. With Booth, I don't have to."

His smile was real this time. "You have a great laugh," he said. "Booth's a lucky guy."

The statement might have seemed like a romantic overture from someone else, but Diggs seemed far too distracted for her to find it any kind of threat. His eyes drifted back to his notepad. Sensing she was about to lose him and not ready to be left alone with her thoughts once again, Brennan grasped for another topic to keep him interested.

"Angela told me you used to be Erin's mentor."

"Yeah. Something like that." He fell silent once more.

"I've dated mentors before," she said without thinking. The moment it was out, she realized just how offensive Diggs might find the statement. Instead of looking annoyed with her, however, he leaned back at her with frank curiosity.

"How'd it work out?"

"Not that well," she admitted. "Though the mentors I chose were typically somewhat egomaniacal. They certainly never seemed as concerned with my welfare as you are with Erin's."

He hedged at the statement, his eyes sliding from hers. "It's complicated. We've been friends a long time – that's all it is. She's married. And… Well, nuts. And almost a decade younger than me. We're just friends," he repeated more quietly, gazing out the streaked window at the forbidding waters that surrounded them.

How many times had she made that argument with respect to she and Booth in those early years, Brennan wondered? Had it sounded as hollow and unconvincing coming from her lips?

Seth sounded the horn up top and both Brennan and Diggs jumped, startled at the sudden noise.

"We must be close," Diggs said. He got up quickly and Brennan followed suit.

As they returned above deck, a blast of cold air hit so hard that it felt as though the wind had gone straight through her. She made to follow Diggs wherever his destination might be, but stopped when she saw him staring out toward the horizon, an expression very much like despair clear on his face.

She followed his gaze.

Barely visible above the waterline, Brennan's heart dropped at sight of the broken bow of a speedboat being pummeled by the waves.

TBC