A/N: Hi all. This is my first Bones fanfiction. The timeline for this story is placed somewhere between the time Booth realizes he is in love with Brennan, but before he takes a gamble by confessing in front of the Hoover. It follows canon, but I have pushed up Angela's pregnancy simply because I can.
This story is an exploration of how deep Booth's feelings for Brennan run, and how far he would go to protect her. Because of this, through much of the story, Brennan is in peril, and the story includes violence, language, kidnapping, rape, and sex trafficking, as well as romance and sex towards the end of the story. While my writing of it is not particularly gruesome or ghastly, these themes can be received as disturbing, and reading on is at your own risk. Although this is an exploration, I have taken the utmost care to ensure all characters are accurately presented and act how I would expect on the show. If you are looking for a heart-wrenching, angsty and devastating slow burn love story but with a happy ending, then you are my target audience :)
Inspiration for this story theme is drawn from the movie Priceless, though the plotline is not similar.
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Bones, nor am I profiting from writing this.
Chapter 1
Dr. Temperance Brennan poured over the paperwork on her desk in the Jeffersonian, so focused in her work that she didn't notice someone approaching her office until the sound of her best friend's voice broke through her trance.
"Hello? Sweetie? Are you even listening to me?" Brennan looked up in surprise to see Angela, her eyebrows raised and hands on her hips.
"Oh, sorry, Ange, I was quite engrossed in my work. What were you saying?" Brennan set her pen down.
Angela smiled, shaking her head slightly. "I was asking if you wanted to grab lunch? I'm headed to the Mexican place down the street again – I'm telling you, this baby is going to come out half-burrito if my cravings don't change soon."
Brennan's brow furrowed. It was likely Angela was just making silly jokes again, but she had to clarify to be sure. "That really isn't possible Ange, no matter how much Mexican food you eat."
Angela laughed, in her gently delighted way that never made Brennan feel like she was being mocked. "Thanks, Bren, I guess I can stop worrying about that, then. So did you want to tag along for lunch?"
Brennan sighed in truthful disappointment. She really hadn't been spending much time with Angela lately, and she always had an enjoyable time with the artist. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I am flying out to Kosovo tonight, and I've still yet to pack my things. I really need to finish off this paperwork in the next hour so I can go home and have everything in order."
Angela pouted. "I forgot about that. Do you really need to go? I'm sure there is some other brilliant forensic anthropologist out there who actually wants to go visit that third-world country."
Brennan recognized her friend's poutiness and plain ignorance of factual data as a plea for her to stay. "No Angela, Dr. Bortis has contacted Cam directly and asked for me by name. He is the anthropologist handling the case, and we have worked together in the past. He wants to be unequivocally certain of the identity and of cause of death. And besides, Kosovo is hardly a third-world country. They have experienced a solid and stable economic growth over the past few years, with all the evidence that it will continue to improve."
"Okay, sweetie, if you say so. But I'm going to miss you, and so will this little guy." Angela rubbed her swollen stomach softly.
Brennan smiled. "I'll miss you too, Ange, but your unborn foetus won't even know I'm gone, especially as it doesn't know I exist. I am being called over only for a simple identification, and then I will be returning," she reasoned.
Angela's face screwed up. "Ugh, it sounds so much less cute when you call my baby a foetus. You know, Jack calls the baby our little peach."
Brennan supposed it was a reference of endearment, as it was certainly far from accurate. "Actually at 5 months, your foetus is closer to the size of a small banana."
Again, Angela's face scrunched up. "Yeah, okay. Peach is definitely cuter. Well, will I be seeing you later? I can drop you off at the airport?"
Feeling guilty again, Brennan shook her head. "Booth has insisted that he drives me to the airport. He is unnecessarily worried about me working in Kosovo, on the premises that it is still in a state of high unrest since the war. I find that his concerns are, however, unfounded – the conflict is majorly internalised, and I do not stand to be a threat to anybody over there, meaning I am extremely unlikely to be in danger."
Angela's lips pursed in what Brennan managed to identify as concern, despite her logical explanation as to why that was unnecessary. "You know, Bren, Booth just wants you to be safe. Even if he does sometimes go a little over the top."
"Yes, Booth is an incessant worrier. I can look after myself, Ange," she added, when she saw her friend's forehead crease in further concern.
Angela smiled again, though the creases didn't fully fade from her features. She suddenly charged forward and crushed Brennan in a goodbye hug, not even giving the forensic anthropologist the chance to rise from her seat. "Oh, I know, sweetie, it's not you I'm worried about, it's anybody who tries to give you a hard time. And Booth," Angela said, releasing her from the death-grip hug and pointing an accusing finger at her. "Just let him play the protective boyfriend part for once Bren, and don't make him feel bad about it. It makes him feel better."
Rolling her eyes, Brennan readjusted her lab coat which had been crumpled by Angela. "The desire for Booth to protect everyone around him is purely to support his alpha-male tendencies, nothing more. He is a protector by nature, Ange, and it has nothing to do with me."
"Oh yeah?" Angela replied, her tone amused. "If that's what you want to think, that's fine. But even you can't stay blind to this for much longer."
Brennan chewed the inside of her cheek, slightly frustrated with herself. She was a highly gifted, intelligent person, but no matter who she talked to, without fail, she was reminded that she was severely lacking this mysterious sixth sense – something Booth called instinct and trusting your gut. Some days, talking to Angela almost made her question the faith she held in raw data and empiricism. Almost. Delving into this untrustworthy method of speculating and making assumptions made her feel like a traitor to her profession, not to mention extremely uncomfortable. Especially when the topic concerned Booth. Her partner had helped her see the world in ways other than her traditional and factual normalcy, in what she assumed was the way he saw things. While these glimpses fascinated her, they had constantly affected the partnership she had with Booth, until she could no longer identify exactly what she felt towards him. Never before had someone taken the time to show (and explain) to her the better things in life, and that was what Booth had done, time after time for the past five years. While she appreciated it, her emotions and feelings regarding Booth (which she was usually so adept at recognising) were now something completely unidentifiable, and she had no idea what that meant. She hated not knowing what something meant.
Angela broke her out of her thoughts by again enveloping her in a hug, much gentler this time. "I'm going to go get lunch now, okay? I'll see you when you're back, Bren."
She offered Angela a smile. "Goodbye, Ange. You should order a pork burrito. The B6 will help with the morning sickness."
Angela laughed as she retreated towards the door. "I'll be fine, sweetie. You stay safe, okay? And enjoy your evening with Booth." Her best friend winked knowingly at her, disappearing out the door before Brennan could make a response.
Brennan sighed and leaned back in her chair, forcing her attention back to the paperwork in front of her. In as little as five hours, she would be airborne, headed for Pristina, Kosovo. While the idea of the almost eleven-hour flight didn't particularly thrill her, she was looking forward to the trip. She had been out in the field almost more than in the lab lately, and it was refreshing to be pulled back into something she would have ordinarily done before her partnership with Booth took over. While she treasured that partnership, spending a few days alone, purely functioning as a forensic anthropologist seemed the perfect way to clear her head. Yes, it would do her good.
"How about your coat?" Special Agent Seeley Booth paced around the deluxe space of his partner's lofty apartment, racking his brains for anything she might have forgotten to pack.
"Booth," Brennan said, and Booth detected thinly veiled annoyance in her tone.
He ignored her. "A charger for your cell?" He suggested. He held up his hands in mock surrender when she fixed him with a withering glare, one he might have taken seriously if he couldn't see the touch of amusement there.
"I have travelled for work before, Booth, and I managed fine without your… packing support," she commented, apparently at a loss for a better term. "You know I've spent months travelling by myself. I've been to Guatemala…"
"Well that's just it, Bones!" Booth reasoned. "Why can't you just pick somewhere nice and safe for once, like, I don't know, Hawaii, or Paris. Yeah! Paris, and I'll come with you. I'm sure they have crime there too you know – plenty of bodies to identify."
Brennan looked back at him from her closet, one eyebrow raised. "You want me to come with you to Paris, the City of Love?" She asked quizzically.
Booth felt himself flush. Fighting to keep his expression stoic, he shrugged. "Oh you know Bones, only if the job calls for it. Can't be letting murderers run free in France just because my partner's embarrassed to be in the City of Love."
Giving him an exasperated glance, Brennan resumed packing her neatly folded clothes into her duffel bag. Booth's mood suddenly switched back to serious. "You call me, alright Bones? You call me when you land, and once you're in your room, and then you call me twice a day for the rest of your stay. If I call you and you don't pick up, you've got four hours to call me back, okay? This is non-negotiable," he added when he saw her open her mouth to protest.
She raised her eyebrow again, in that defiant manner he had come to both love and loathe. It usually meant that she was about to do something infuriating, but also something unabashedly her.
"Hypothetically, Booth, what are you going to do if I miss a call? Leave me an angry voicemail? I may very well just be concentrating heavily on my work."
Booth raised an eyebrow to match hers. "You don't follow these terms, and I come out to find you myself. I've got all your information." To emphasise his point, Booth waved around the pad of paper with the notes he had scrawled earlier as Brennan rattled of the details of her trip. "The hotel you're staying at, the people you're interacting with, even the goddam case details. You don't call me back, Bones, and I swear I'll be on the next plane to Kosovo to come and get you myself. Understand?" Booth waited with bated breath, jaw ticking, hoping this was enough incentive for her to grant his request. The one thing worse than Bones alone in a conflicted country, was Bones alone in a conflicted country with absolute radio silence. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle it.
Brennan let out a long, defeated sigh. "Fine, Booth. If regular phone calls are what you require to satisfy your alpha male tendencies, then I suppose I can comply. But for the record, I find this incredibly infuriating, and also completely unnecessary." She fixed him with a disapproving stare, her blue eyes reflecting her frustrated resignation. Booth didn't care. His heart rate had calmed considerably once she had agreed, and some of the tension began to ebb from his muscles. He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling about this trip, and he had been slowly winding up all week over it. The knowledge that she was going to be regularly in touch came as a huge relief.
Booth leant back against the doorframe, not feeling guilty in the slightest, even though the look in her eyes may have warranted it. "I'm sure you do, Bones," he said jovially. "Now, let's finish getting you packed. What do you even wear over there?" He browsed through the assortment of coats and dresses she had set down on the bed.
She eyed him, looking a little irked still. "It's cold, Booth. Dr Bortis said to pack warm clothing, it's been snowing for days."
Booth screwed up his face in disdain. Why she accepted these dismal travel invitations, he truly didn't know. "Oh, lovely. Kosovo just sounds better and better, doesn't it? Have you packed warm clothes for sleeping? It will probably be cold in your room…" He trailed off when his partner set her hands on her hips, the glare on her face harbouring considerably less mirth than last time. Yeah, maybe he had been toeing the line before, but he had finally overstepped. He quickly stepped back, hands unconsciously raising again in surrender, and flashed her his best charming smile, apologetic edition. "Sorry Bones, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." He retreated from the room before Brennan could berate him, feeling her indignant gaze burning into his back as he went.
Booth busied himself with putting away the clean dishes that had been left out to dry. Less than a week. That's what she had said, she'd be in Kosovo for less than a week. It wasn't long, he reasoned with himself. And to some degree, she was right. He had gotten way too overprotective; he was smothering her. He knew better than anyone that she was capable of defending herself, and she could throw a mean punch. His cheek ached at the memory of it, that day he'd broken cover at his own funeral. He winced as he recalled the misunderstanding between them that had thrown things asunder. Damn Sweets. Yeah, Brennan was good with self-defence, but martial arts could only get you so far against the violent, opportunistic, and politically motivated crime he knew run rampant through Kosovo.
Feeling no better as his mind coursed through this repetitive loop of reassuring himself and finding more reasons to worry, Booth set the last plate down in the cupboard. He checked his watch anxiously. Time was creeping up on them, they would need to be at the airport within an hour.
He meandered off back to Brennan's room, cautiously in case she jumped at him for being too protective again. He resumed his position against the doorframe, enraptured as he watched her finish packing. Her auburn locks fell over her shoulders and framed her face when she leant over her bag, rippling slightly as she gave her head a little shake and withdrew something from the pack, having apparently changed her mind about a dress she chose. She must have felt his eyes on her because she turned around suddenly, catching his gaze. There was a small smile on her lips, all signs of her earlier irritation gone. His heart skipped a beat, like it did every time her clear blue stare locked with his. He pushed those feelings down. For the next week, he just had to focus on being her partner and nothing else, or he wouldn't be able to stop himself catching the next flight to Kosovo to keep an eye on her.
"All packed, Bones?" He asked.
Brennan nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I think so," she said thoughtfully. She looked a little off-balance, the heavy bag on her shoulder probably not helping things. Her hand pressed lightly to her stomach.
"Did you want to grab something to eat on the way to the airport?" Booth asked, hoping he had read her correctly.
Brennan nodded. "That would be good, Booth. I didn't get a chance to have lunch today, I had so much paperwork."
Booth shook his head. If t wasn't for him, Brennan would have wasted away long ago. Stepping towards her, he slid the bag off her shoulder and on to his own. She fixed him with that look again, as if he had just jumped in front of another bullet for her, not simply taken her bag. "Oh come on Bones, you've gotta let me be the gentleman we both know I am," he offered innocently. To his delight, he saw her fighting a smile.
"I'm feeling Thai food…" He trailed off, sporting a grin.
Her face cracked into that sideways smile he loved.
Booth stood back, fidgeting with his tie as Brennan received her boarding pass. The last hour had been good, light-hearted banter and the smell of Thai take-out had filled the SUV on the way over. But it was almost time for the plane to board. Booth had a lump in his throat. There was just something about this entire thing putting him off, making every cell in his body scream at him not to let her go. But he couldn't stop her.
He tried to shake the disturbing feeling that he was saying goodbye for longer than a week. It was going to make him say something he shouldn't, something that he would regret opening his big mouth for once she returned. It didn't feel like the right time to tell her how he felt. Cam's words from a while ago echoed in his mind. "Be sure about your feelings because if you crack that shell, and you change your mind, she'll die of loneliness before she'll trust anyone ever again."
He wrestled with himself internally. He was sure. He'd never been surer of anything in his life. He was ready. But was she? The last thing he wanted was to drop this bomb on her now, when she had the excuse of running to another country. And he knew her, she would try to distance herself for a while. So maybe it would be wiser to wait until she didn't have almost five-thousand miles between them to do that. He would have another chance to tell her. He would.
The feel of Brennan's hand on his arm brought him back to reality. "Are you okay, Booth?" She asked concernedly. The conflict he was feeling must have shown on his face, and bless her, she had interpreted it.
He forced a smile. "Yeah Bones, just thinking about how I'll have to partner up with a different squint while you're away. It took long enough to learn to tolerate you, not sure if I can do it again," he joked, his tone light.
Brennan smiled softly. "I'm sure you'll bring it in your walk, Booth."
Booth faltered in confusion for a second, letting out a bark of laughter when he realised what she was trying to say. "Take in in my stride, Bones. Yeah, I'm not too worried. You'll be back before I really need to." He didn't believe it even as he said it. The dreaded boarding call sounded throughout the airport.
"And you'll call me three times a day, right?" He sounded desperate, even to him.
Brennan rolled her eyes. "Twice a day, Booth, we agreed on twice a day."
"Right. Just testing you."
Brennan gestured to the gate, where the line was moving through quickly. "I have to go. I'll be back in less than a week."
Booth swallowed. "See you later, Bones." He was trying to keep the word 'goodbye' out of his vocabulary. "Make sure you call me when you land."
Brennan nodded and smiled again in response, turning to make her way towards the gate. Suddenly, his body acting on a mind of its own, Booth lunged forward and enveloped her in the tightest 'guy hug' he'd ever offered. He heard her gasp slightly in surprise, but she didn't back away. He exhaled shakily, wondering if he'd overstepped again.
"Please Bones, you be so careful, okay? Call me if anything goes wrong. I mean anything. I'll be here to pick you up in less than a week, I promise." He spoke close to her ear, his voice low and rough, tinged with poorly disguised emotion.
He pulled back to make sure she had understood, their eyes locking together again. His breath caught in his throat. He was lost in her perfect blue gaze, and it wasn't relinquishing its hold on him. Her lips were still parted slightly in surprise. They looked pink and soft, and he found himself staring at them. He was so immobilised he didn't realise that she was in just as much of a trance as he was.
His hands dropped to his side, still staring at Brennan. She blinked, an unreadable expression on her face. Brennan always wore her heart on her sleeve, he knew she couldn't help it. He had never seen this indecipherable look before. He maintained the gaze, and he knew all the tension he was feeling was clearly written on his face.
Their eyes connected one more time, and her expression clearly softened. "I will call you when I land," she promised quietly. "Goodbye, Booth."
Booth winced at her choice of words, but he raised his hand and waved goodbye as she slowly backed away, still feeling in a daze. "Be safe, Bones," he whispered to himself.
He watched her retreating form until he could no longer make her out amongst the swarm of people. Shaking off the jelly-like feel that had encompassed his limbs, he walked back to the SUV, his lips tingling with the thought of the kiss he had barely restrained himself from giving. He checked his cell to make sure the battery was full for when Bones called, even though it wouldn't be until tomorrow morning. He started up the SUV and merged into the flowing traffic, taking deep, reassuring breaths even as unease began to creep back into his heart. It was going to be a long night.
Brennan stared out the window of the plane, despite the fact that it was dark outside, and she couldn't see a thing. Not that she was really looking anyway. No, her mind was stuck on Booth. The hug he had given her had been even crushingly tighter than Angela's. He had hugged her before, but this felt… different. And the way he had looked at her when he pulled away. His chocolate brown eyes had suggested so many different emotions, and it tugged on her heart in ways she just didn't understand.
While normally Brennan wouldn't trust herself to identify emotions, this was Booth, perhaps the only person she would ever be able to read. His eyes had been wide and desperate, and in them she had seen more than a little fear. She shifted uncomfortably. She had thought for a moment she had seen something else too. Something intense and burning. His eyes had darkened and softened all at once, and there was so much tenderness in his expression that it made her dizzy. She shook her head internally. She must have imagined that part. But the fear, that was real. More than what usually accompanied his needless overprotectiveness. She suddenly felt guilty for rebuffing his attempts to keep her safe, even if they were extremely over the top.
She suddenly wanted to be on the ground, just so she could call Booth and assure him that she was safe, and so she could hear the relief in his voice. You're being irrational, she scolded herself. She pulled up the sleeve of her coat, checking her watch. 11 pm. There was still another seven hours to go. She leaned back in her comfortable first-class seat, ironically feeling far from comfortable, and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes when the woman adjacent to her cast an inflamed glare at the sound. Snuggling back into her seat, she tried to slow her mind. She might as well get some sleep. She flicked her gaze back to the black sky out the window, wondering if Booth was awake as well. The entire flight, she had been trying to avert her mind from him, or his strong arms enveloping her, or his pleasing bone structure, or the look in his eyes after he'd hugged her. Even with all her willpower, she couldn't cast him out of her mind, so she settled for safer thoughts, like the last case they'd solved together, or when she'd last been at the diner with him and Parker.
She never could compartmentalize Booth.
Booth opened his eyes to the plain white of his bedroom ceiling, a split second before his cell started ringing. Uncoordinatedly, he rolled over to his nightstand, fumbling with the charger before he managed to extract his cell and bring it to his ear. "Booth," he warbled thickly, still half-asleep. The smooth tone of his partner's voice washed over him.
"Hi Booth, its Brennan. I'm just calling to let you know that I've landed in Pristina. It's noon here. Everything is going well, I am about to get into a cab to Kosovo."
Booth felt a wave of relief sweep over him, quickly followed by a wave of apprehension as her words set in. "Wh- you're not just going to get into any old cab right?" Worry coursed through him, making him temporarily forget that she was a seasoned traveller with probably more common sense than he had.
"I knew you'd say that Booth." Her voice was disapproving, but Booth could hear the smile in her voice anyway. "The driver has been pre-arranged by Dr. Bortis – it's completely trustworthy. According to Dr. Bortis, the driver will confirm his name and the details of my destination before I even get inside."
Booth exhaled contentedly. "Alright then. Sorry Bones. Call me once you're in your room, yeah? I'll be at work, but I'll call you back as soon as I can if I miss you."
He heard her huff of disbelief. "Oh, so if I miss your call, you will fly out to Kosovo and publicly embarrass me, but if you miss mine you can just call me back later?"
Booth chuckled, knowing she wasn't actually upset. "Yep, that's about the size of it Bones." He smiled widely, hoping she was doing the same. "Make sure you call me when you're meant to though, I mean it."
"You know I can't promise to check my phone every few hours, Booth. I promise I'll call twice a day, but can't we negotiate this call-back-every-four-hours idea? It's simply not sustainable." Her tone was pleading, but uncharacteristically half-hearted, like she didn't know if she wanted Booth to let up or stay strong with his 'alpha male tendencies,' as she called them. Well, he was going to make that decision for her.
"Sorry, non-negotiable," he said, not sorry in the slightest. "Don't make me fly out there in coach Bones. My back can't take it." He ended the call before she could convince him that leaving her up to her own devices was actually better, for some anthropological reason, but not before he heard one last huff of disapproval from his independent partner.
He sat on the edge of his bed, in the familiar dazed stupor that was starting to occur more and more after bantering with Brennan. Within minutes though, the soothing lull of his conversation with her faded to the dread and unease he'd been feeling over the last few days. She was about to drive into a country that had been in the midst of a war not so long ago, a country where crime was motivated by catching the attention of the public and making political demands. And well, his partner wasn't the most low-profile person alive. He didn't know how well her books did over in places like Kosovo, but a world-famous anthropologist and best-selling crime novelist was hardly what you'd expect to stay out of the public eye. She would be like a glowing target if she didn't lie low.
He caught himself again before he spiralled. She was there for less than a week, he reminded himself. It wasn't like she'd be roaming the streets of the place, like a willy-nilly tourist. She'd be under the protective detail of the investigation, just like she promised. Less than a week. Booth could see himself repeating those four words like a mantra over the coming days. That and the phone calls he was promised were the only things that would keep him sane.
Digging out a pair of striped socks from his drawer, he glanced at his pad of research on the nightstand. The drive to Kosovo from Pristina was about half an hour. Combined with the niceties of meeting with Dr. Bortis and the time to check in to her room, he didn't really expect a call for another hour or two. It was just after six in the morning. He would be keeping his phone close.
Against his will, his thoughts wandered back to his partner. The embrace he had wrapped her up in played over and over in his mind, desperate to be memorised like it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. He tried to shake the negative thinking. He would hug her again. Right? Right. Because when she got back, he was going to tell her how he felt.
His mind was all but made up. The last few months had been killing him. Listening to her tell him about some other guy she was seeing to satisfy her 'biological urges' or to 'stimulate her intellectually' was having serious effects on him. Whenever she talked about relationships like that, like they were a pastime, or when she belittled love and romance by calling it nothing more than chemicals in the brain, he was swarmed with emotions. Emotions like irritation, and sympathy, and… jealousy. Irritation, because Booth was a man of the heart. Other than honour and duty, every decision he made was guided by the love in his heart, and Bones demeaned those moments for him by boiling it down to nothing more than a few chemical reactions in his brain. Sympathy, because Booth realised that there probably wasn't a man in the universe that had ever tried to show Brennan what love was. He doubted she'd ever been complimented or treated like she deserved for any other reason than to get her into bed with them. It wasn't her fault. And jealousy because… well, that one had confused Booth for a long time, but thinking about it now, he thought it was painfully obvious. Jealousy, because he was in love with her, and he'd wrestled for months trying to decide if he was good enough for her, but any guy who walked in off the street and could string the right combination of words together thought he deserved her. And she thought so, too. It ate him up inside.
If she gave him a chance, he would show her exactly what she was worth. How much she truly deserved. But if she didn't… well, he couldn't dwell on that possibility right now. Not when there was so much else going on.
Marveling at how off-track his thoughts had gotten, he scarfed down a few pieces of toast and checked his watch again. Six thirty-seven. An early start at work wouldn't be the worst thing – at least it would keep his mind preoccupied. Inwardly praying that there wouldn't be another body found and he'd be partnered with Daisy, Booth shrugged on his jacket and walked out the door.
Dr. Brennan drew her coat tighter around her, protecting herself from both the cold and the penetrating gaze of Dr. Bortis. The other anthropologist was friendly and impressively academic, and Brennan truly did enjoy his company, just apart from the fact that he seemed to be undressing her with his eyes. The intensity of his stare would have made her skin crawl if he wasn't clearly harmless. His expression was one of deep admiration. She recognized this – she had seen the exact same look from countless of her fans at book signings and lectures.
She stabbed absently at the sarma rolls on her plate, a little disoriented by the fact she was trying to eat lunch when her body wasn't even ready for breakfast yet. The hotel restaurant was in the traditional Byzantine-style architecture, with impressive marble columns giving way to sky-scraping, gold-coffered ceilings.
"Temperance?" The sound of her seldom used name broke through her stupor.
"Apologies, Dr. Bortis, I was just appreciating the traditional Byzantine architectural style of the restaurant."
Dr. Bortis dipped his head in response. "Yes, it is very beautiful," he replied, still staring intently at her. "And please, no need for formalities here. You can call me Paul."
Brennan smiled. "Of course, Paul. You can call me Dr. Brennan."
Dr. Bortis's face flashed in a split-second of some emotion that Brennan couldn't confidently identify. "Uh, alright, Dr. Brennan." He smiled stiffly.
Brennan inwardly berated herself. Was that the wrong thing to say? Without Booth here directing her, interpreting social cues was much more difficult. She couldn't understand why favouring her last name would be so offensive to someone else, but she decided to humour it, nonetheless. "Apologies again, Paul," she said smoothly. "I meant no offense; I just happen to much prefer my last name. Temperance is awful." She carefully quoted Angela, who was much more adept at social navigation than her.
To her relief, Dr. Bortis let out a short laugh, and his face relaxed again. "No damage done, Dr. Brennan. Although for the record, I think Temperance is a charming and unique name, much like the lady who possesses it." Dr. Bortis's eyes glimmered flirtatiously. Brennan smiled awkwardly. She'd received no small number of compliments from males over the years, but 'charming' certainly wasn't a word frequently used to describe her. Booth would laugh if he heard that. He'd once told her she had the charm and grace of a blind dog in a meat shop. While she didn't really understand what that meant, it definitely didn't sound overly charming.
"I have read the case files on the remains I've been requested to study. It seems relatively straightforward," she said, hoping to steer the conversation back towards the case. "I am aware of your work, and I have no doubts that you could have easily handled this without my consult." Dr. Bortis's chest puffed out considerably at that. "May I ask why I've been brought here?"
Again, a series of emotions flickered across the man's face, and his proud demeanour dissolved. "You're correct, Dr. Brennan," he said haltingly. "I am confident in my ability to determine cause of death, and the general physical qualities of the remains. However, I find I need a second opinion on the… identity." His voice faltered slightly. "The victim shares notable characteristics with… with my brother's wife. And I will take no chances with a misidentification. Alyson is supposed to be on a writer's retreat somewhere in Pristina – it's meant to be a week away from technology and other influences to concentrate on her novel." He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly. "So, I have no way of contacting her to see if she is alright."
Brennan processed this information. Trying to push the pragmatic scientist in her down and let some sympathy shine through like Booth had coached her, she spoke softly. "And your brother doesn't know where she is staying?"
Paul shook his head. "Marshall is out on a training camp in Sofia. He's been gone for weeks, and he won't be returning until late next month. I doubt he even knows she was going on the retreat. He's KIA," he added, seeing her questioning look. "Kosovo Intelligence Agency. And the last thing I want is for Marshall to return and have to investigate the death of his wife, so I'd really like to eliminate the uncertainty here."
Brennan nodded, chewing her lip uncomfortably. She didn't know what to say. Booth was more useful in these kinds of situations. She cleared her throat. "I need to check into my room and get my luggage in order, but I can be downstairs in twenty minutes and ready to study the remains," she offered.
Dr. Bortis smiled gratefully. "That would be deeply appreciated, Dr. Brennan."
Smiling in return, Brennan pushed her half-eaten sarma dish back and stood up. Awkwardly, she rested a hand on Dr. Bortis's shoulder. "We will figure this out, Paul," she said, in the best reassuring voice she could muster. "There is a high chance that Alyson is precisely where she is meant to be, on a retreat in Pristina."
She was surprised to see the glisten of tears in the man's eyes. "Your compassion is overwhelming, Dr. Brennan. You truly are a remarkable woman."
Smiling in thanks, Brennan made her way to the hotel reception, feeling suddenly prideful. Not only had she diffused the tension between her and Paul, but she had also managed to be called 'charming' and 'compassionate.' Booth would never believe her, she thought drily.
Booth's thoughts were wrenched away by the youthful face of Sweets hovering in front of him, hands waving annoyingly. "Agent Booth! Are you even listening to me?"
He blinked in surprise. "Yeah, Sweets, I hear you."
The psychologist sunk back into his seat. "You know, you've been very distracted today. This is common when thinking about something unpleasant, for example, missing someone…" Sweets trailed off, a mischievous smile on his face.
Booth rolled his eyes at the poorly concealed insinuation. "Well, that's strange, Sweets, because the sound of your voice makes me extremely distracted. Would you call yourself unpleasant?"
The boy's smile dropped. "No."
Booth offered a sarcastic apologetic smile. "Oh. I would."
Sweets smiled flatly. "Very mature, Agent Booth."
"I agree."
"Anyway, like I was saying, Dr. Brennan's interns are being evaluated for field duty. This way, someone can fill her forensic duty in the field and act as your partner whenever she is away."
Booth sighed dramatically. "Why's it gotta be one of the interns, huh? How about Cam, or Hodgins?"
Sweets raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you feel that an entomologist or pathologist would be a better asset than an anthropologist, it can certainly be arranged, but Dr. Brennan will no longer be required for regular consult in the field."
"Oh," he mumbled. "On second thought, a bug-hunter and an, uh, guts and flesh specialist probably aren't as useful. I suppose an intern will do," he said disdainfully.
Sweets smirked knowingly, like the conversation had been another of his 'Booth and Brennan' experiments, and it had played out just like he had anticipated. Booth liked the kid, he really did, but there were days he just wanted to throw things at the psychologist, and this was turning out to be one of those days. He eyed the desk stapler wistfully. It was looking like a willing participant.
"I will have the evaluations complete by tomorrow morning. Until then, you're flying solo."
Booth tried to imagine driving around and investigating with the likes of Daisy, or Fisher. He shuddered. Brennan was the only squint for him. "Flying solo is fine," he reassured quickly. "Take your time."
The shrill sound of Booth's cell erupted. He had adjusted the tone and volume to be impossible to ignore, which meant it was downright unbearable.
Sweets pressed his hands to his ears. "Oh God, what the hell is that?"
Booth immediately stood and withdrew the offending cell from his pocket. The slow crawl of unease retracted for the moment. Bones.
He put the cell to his ear, unable to prevent the smile of relief spreading across his face. "Hey, Bones. You all settled in?" Sweets studied him intently.
"Hi, Booth. I am in my hotel room, everything is fine. I am about to go downstairs and make for the lab with Dr. Bortis, he would like to get started on the remains right away." Brennan's usually articulate voice sounded weary.
Booth couldn't keep the concern out of his voice. "Now? You just got there from a goddam eleven-hour flight! Can't the guy give you the afternoon off?"
"It's alright Booth. I'd rather be done with the identification sooner than later, and then I can come home earlier."
Booth had to admit, that sounded good.
"You sound tired, Bones."
He could have spoken her next words along with her, he knew them so well. Her standard response to everything.
"I'm fine, Booth."
"Are you sure you feel up to it today? Dr. Bortis is playing nice, isn't he? He isn't making you?"
Booth could practically hear her roll her eyes through the phone.
"Dr. Bortis is extremely accommodating, and he appears to be a fan of mine. You know, he called me charming and compassionate." Brennan's voice was bordering on gloating.
"Oh, is that right?" Booth felt an unwelcome twinge of jealousy, along with disbelief that someone thought Brennan was charming. "So, he's lying through his teeth to try and get you into bed?" He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. The last few days were wearing him thin. He tried to ignore Sweets's probing stare and raised eyebrows.
Brennan's tone was suddenly flat. "That was rude, Booth. I am absolutely capable of showing charm and compassion, but only to those I feel deserve it. Perhaps that is why you have never been on the receiving end."
Harsh, but he deserved it. Maybe he would have been hurt if what she was saying was truthful, but he'd been lucky enough to be on the receiving end of Brennan's compassionate side before. A bittersweet memory flooded his mind. Him, baring his soul to Brennan about how taking a life takes a piece of yourself with it, unable to stop tears from gathering in his eyes as the faces of the lives he had ruined flashed before him. Bones, with her hand on his thigh, in her own special way of trying to comfort him. He had rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of her hand, soothing the both of them. By regular standards, that would have meant nothing. But coming from Bones, that gesture had meant the world to him.
"I'm sorry Bones, I didn't mean to say that. I'm just a little high-strung over here, alright?" Booth apologised, his chest still warm from the memory.
"I really have to go Booth, Paul is waiting for me downstairs." Booth's jaw clicked. She was on first name basis with the guy? He shook his head. He was being immature. Brennan hadn't acknowledged his apology, but her voice had relaxed considerably, and he took it as a good sign.
"Alright Bones, but remember to-"
"I won't forget to call you tonight Booth. I couldn't possibly forget, with you reminding every chance you have." Brennan interrupted him, her tone light and joking again. Booth had no control over the grin growing on his face at the sound of the smile in her voice.
"Bye, Bones."
"Bye, Booth."
The call disconnected. Booth put his cell back in his pocket, feeling more at ease than he had since Brennan first got the damn enquiry call. She was going to study the remains, and then she'd be back. She'd done it a hundred times before. Suddenly it didn't seem so daunting. He exhaled loudly, suddenly feeling Sweets staring at him.
He sat back down on the sofa and took a certain interest in studying random objects around Sweets' office, reluctant to meet the profiler's gaze.
Sweets cleared his throat loudly. "Dr. Brennan's flight and hotel check-in went well, I gather?"
Booth glanced at him warningly. "Yeah, she's fine," he said tightly.
Sweets didn't know how to take a hint. "You seem very concerned over this, Agent Booth. Dr. Brennan has travelled to dangerous destinations for work before. I doubt she welcomes your smothering…"
Booth cut Sweets off with a scowl and a withering glare. Annoyingly, he sat there, unbothered, raising his eyebrows again as if to say 'really?'
Irritated that his intimidation tactic wasn't working, he abruptly stood and marched out of the room, trying to ignore the psychologists amused stare as he went. The stapler on the desk had looked more and more attractive the longer he sat. It was going to be a hating Sweets kind of day.
TBC…
Please let me know what you think, and if you have any suggestions you would like me to incorporate into the storyline I have worked out. Thanks for reading!