48. Breach

Warehouse across the river from Ft. Belvoir

"We're in position and moving in, Booth. Fire only if necessary to protect the Sinclairs. Breach in fifteen seconds," Richards said rapidly.

"Roger," Booth said, acknowledging his firing orders. He slowed his breathing and watched the younger man through his scope. Time slowed and the seconds stretched before him as his target seemed to move in slow motion. The younger man approached the window and was joined by a silver haired man. The spoke briefly and then looked into the room. Their position at the window blocked Booth's view of the women. The younger man nodded to the older, then reached into his jacket. From Booth's vantage point, he saw a glint of metal flash through the window when the younger man withdrew his hand. The man turned to face the window and bowed his head to fiddle with the pistol clearly visible to Booth through the scope. The last thought Booth had before he mechanically exhaled and gently squeezed the trigger was "wound, not kill." The window shattered and misted with blood, obscuring the room from Booth's view. Time then leapfrogged to a normal pace as he stood and reported his shot to Richards, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Ft. Belvoir, Davidson Army Airfield, VIP terminal lounge

Richards gave the breach order immediately after giving Booth his firing orders. A few seconds before the team breached the terminal, Richards heard glass breaking and pained screams. He swore under his breath as they pushed into the the small room. Richards barely registered Booth's voice reporting the shot. Several team members yelled "FBI, freeze!" as they secured the room. The team immediately subdued an uninjured man near the window and then escorted the women outside to safety. The private was picking himself off the floor under his desk when Richards kicked a pistol away from the wounded man who was propped against the wall under the window, surrounded by shattered safety glass.

"Search them for weapons and cell phones," Richards ordered.

"Sir?" The private asked Richards as he cautiously approached.

"Special Agent Boyce Richards, FBI," Richards peered at the man's name patch while securing his weapon.

"It's Pierce, sir. Private Pierce. I think my boss would like to talk with you." Pierce glanced beyond Richards momentarily. "He, ah, told me to sit in here until their plane was ready. Not to let the four of them out of my sight."

"And who is your boss, Private Pierce?"

"Staff Sergent Swerling, sir."

"Right here, Agent Richards," Swerling said, stepping cautiously into the room. Richards nodded his permission to Swerling who acknowledged the nod by entering further into the room and joining the two men near the desk, keeping clear of the shattered glass.

"Sorry about keeping you in the dark, Jimmy," Swerling said to Pierce. "I would have done it myself if I thought I could have kept from fidgeting and giving away what I knew."

"At least you knew, Sarge. I'm glad someone knew something about this."

"Sergent, I realize you are both on duty here. Can you get some coverage so we can take your statements?" Richards asked.

"No need, Agent Richards. The only reason I'm even here today is to see that they," he indicated the wounded man with a quick look, "got off the ground today. And that just isn't going to happen. Jimmy got called in for the same reason."

"Good, let's clear out of this area and let the team clean up then." Richards escorted the men outside.

***

Daylight was beginning to fade by the time Booth returned to the terminal, and the scene was all but wrapped up. Richards met him and shook his hand. "Nice shot, Booth."

"Thanks, Boyce. But you could have made the shot. He gave it to me on a platter. Faced the window to turn of his safety. Breathe, shoot, radio."

"Be modest all you want, it was still a fine shot. You took him through the shoulder. By all accounts, he dropped the gun immediately. The women are in protective custody again and already off site. It appears they've been heavily drugged over the past few weeks. The guy you shot just got hauled to the hospital, and his partner is being taken to lockup," Richards informed him.

"Nice. I passed the ambulance on my way back here. Did you arrange for security at the hospital?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know what sort of arrangements you'd want for the other guy."

"I'll square it. Hey, where's the cell phone off the one I shot?"

"I'm gonna send it to the office to pull all the calls made to and from. Same with the other guy."

"Can you have them expedite that for me? I want to know who called him right before I fired when I question them," Booth said.

"Sure thing."

"Thanks." Booth tapped Richards' shoulder with his closed fist. "Good working with you today, Boyce. You have this mess under control?"

"Not a problem. Get outta here."

"You don't have to tell me twice. I'll pick up on the interviews tomorrow. Consider me gone, man. See you on the paperwork side of it," Booth said, to which Richards just grunted and bumped Booth hard with his shoulder as he walked past. Booth chuckled and headed for his car.

Seeley Booth's Apartment, Washington DC

Traffic was light for an early Sunday evening. Anywhere except perhaps LA would have considered the traffic heavy. He called Brennan while stuck behind an accident on the beltway around six o'clock. To his surprise, she informed him she had left the lab a few minutes earlier and was heading home herself. Booth nearly hit the car in front of him because she said she was "heading home to prepare supper," and it took every bit of willpower he possessed to not comment afterwards. Instead, he simply told her would see her as soon as he could get there.

It was fully dark by the time Booth reached his apartment nearly forty minutes later. He parked beside Brennan's little sports car and and took the stairs two at a time, smiling the whole way. Booth nearly tripped entering his kitchen. He managed to stay upright, but only just. He slammed a foot into a sturdy blue and white cooler propped open beside the refrigerator and hopped around it reaching for a counter top to steady himself. "Bones! What the hell? Are you trying to kill me here?"

Brennan turned away from the sink at the commotion. "Booth, are you all right?"

He grimaced and worked his foot against the floor in a circular motion. "Yea. I'm fine. Little warning next time?"

"You should look where you're going."

"It's not like I was expecting cooler two feet from the front door," he replied.

"It's closer to two meters."

"Whatever," he said dismissively. He bent down and lifted a container of juice and a wedge of cheese from the cooler. "What's with all this?" he asked.

"I brought a few things from my apartment that I didn't want to go to waste. I only turned away from unpacking it to put the celery and carrots in the sink."

"Bones, I'm pretty sure this stuff wouldn't have gone bad by tomorrow."

"Of course it wouldn't, Booth. But I'm not planning on going home tomorrow. We're eating the cheese tonight anyway. I need to get that grated. Where's your grater?" she asked, while rummaging in a drawer.

"Next one over. By the stove," he said. "But, what do you mean you aren't going home tomorrow, Temperance?" he put the juice in the refrigerator and closed the distance between them.

She stopped her rummaging then and faced him, flustered. "Oh. I. Did I misunderstand something, Booth?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her. "I made an assumption that I obviously should not have made. I'm sorry. I'll …."

Booth stopped her ramble by gently cupping an elbow and teasing free her hands, which he then held in his. "I want you to stay with me for as long as you like."

"But you just asked why I wasn't going home," she said.

"Because I want you to tell me what you planned to do," he said mischievously.

"Oh," she said as a small smile crept upon her face. "I intended to stay here, with you and Parker this week."

The twinkle in her eyes was all the assurance he needed to continue teasing her as he pulled her close. "I get it," he whispered. "You're afraid someone bugged your apartment and you want to stay here," he teased. "That's okay. I'll fix up the couch for you." He concluded almost inaudibly, his breath warm against her neck.

"That's a highly inappropriate place for me to sleep unless you're interested in providing a practical demonstration of human sexuality for Parker this evening."

"You're a wicked woman, Bones. How could you play the Parker card on me?" Booth asked before he hungrily sought her lips. Brennan yielded to and returned his kiss, momentarily forgetting all the preparation she needed to complete if they were to eat homemade macaroni and cheese that evening.

When she broke away from his embrace, she said, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to play the Parker card again. Go on unless you're going to help me cook, or your son doesn't get mac 'n cheese tonight."

Booth groaned, but nodded. "Fine. I get it. I'm either being tossed out of my own kitchen or being pressed into doing some more work today." He winked at her, then turned back to the cooler and hefted it onto the counter and began to transfer its contents to the refrigerator. Together, they worked in a comfortable silence, Brennan busy creating the cheese sauce, Booth emptying the cooler. When he finished, he stuffed the cooler into his hall coat closet and returned to the kitchen. "What can I do to help, Bones?"

"Tell me what happened today at Ft. Belvoir. I know you said everyone survived, but you didn't give me any details."

"Well, let me see," Booth said while preparing the meatloaf. "I met up with Boyce Richards and the tactical team while they were still getting into position. The Sinclairs were guarded by two men in a private terminal, waiting for a plane to be maintenanced and refueled. I haven't seen anyone's report yet, but one of the terminal staff must have recognized the Sinclairs and called in the tip. Anyway, the room they were in had three exits, one to the flight line, one out to the shuttle area, and a third for access the rest of the terminal building. Boyce had men at every exit except the flight line. He couldn't get anyone close enough without revealing their position through the room's sole window. I suggested he put a sniper across the river from the fort. So he sent me."

Brennan laid down a block of cheese and leaned against the counter, giving him her full attention.

"One of the men got a call, then pulled a pistol. Someone must have tipped him off that we were onto them, so I shot him."

"You said he survived though?"

Booth nodded with a serious look on his face. "I hit where I aimed."

Brennan met his eyes with her own. "You always do."

A half smile twitched the right side of his face before he continued. "We'll have several interviews tomorrow. We've got the Sinclairs, both their captors, and the guy you caught here."

"I finished my examination of Mark Sinclair's remains today. I can spend tomorrow at the Hoover if that's where we need to be." Brennan met his eyes again before turning back to her supper preparations.

"Find anything new?" he asked, then slid the meatloaf into the oven and set the timer.

"What temperature does that cook on?" she asked.

"350."

She nodded, saying "Nothing of interest to the case so far. Hodgins was running samples through the mass spec when I left. He's hoping to narrow down the composition of the weapon. Perhaps that will give us another lead."

"You dragged him into work anyway?" Booth asked incredulously.

"What?" she asked, glance up at him. "No. He was there when I arrived. He and Angela were in her office discussing the bug."

A look of curiosity formed on Booth's face. "Interesting," he said quietly. Brennan had the distinct feeling he wasn't referring to the bug. He shook his head briefly, as if to clear it, then said, "What bothers me though, is the security breach. This op came together pretty quickly today. Someone who knew we were headed to the airfield must have passed along information about it for that dirt bag to get a tip."

Brennan became thoughtful, then said, "I only mentioned it to Dr. Hodgins and Dr. Saroyan. Angela was in her office, I believe, when I listened to your message."

"Unless the lab is bugged, I'm not worried about who you told there."

"Perhaps we should check the lab?"

Booth nodded his agreement. "Might want to check your apartment too. I was kidding earlier, but I don't want to take any chances. I'm going to grab a shower before dinner, then I'll see if I can reach Angela." Booth leaned in to kiss her cheek, careful to keep his unwashed hands clear. "Your dad and Parker should be here around seven-thirty."