IMPORTANT: This is my first ever Bones fic, and even though I've read almost all of the BoothxBones ones here, I have still only seen the show twice! So, if there are mistakes, tell me so I know what not to do later. Much thanks!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, only the scotch tape holding posters to my wall.
Spoilers: None
Pairing: Booth x Brennan
Chapters: Second to last chapter
Last Words: Ah, the almost finale. Please review for a prompt finish, hehe.
Chapter 6: Broken, ending number one
Note: One more chapter after this! And that's more of an epilogue. Review review review and I might put it up before Monday!
Armed men quickly surrounded most of the camp, lined up along the edge of the clearing nearest to the road. The rescue men were beginning to look extremely confused. Apparently, the armed federals were not here to help them find the pretty doctor that had fallen into the river. Medder looked worried as he searched the area for Arcult. Booth, too, was looking for the old man. A knot settled in the pit of his stomach when the lead rescuer could not be found. Neither he nor Randy saw Arcult in the truck, fiddling with a large dark shape on the passenger's seat, the click of magazines muffled by the thick doors and the shouting in the clearing.
"Drop any weapons you are holding and place your hands in the air." A loud voice echoed through the camp. The already confused men complied, ropes and playing cards falling at their feet as they stood very still.
"What's going on?" Anthony was having trouble keeping calm as he looked around at the guns that were pointed at him and his buddies. The rest of the rescue team nodded in agreement, bewilderment and fear apparent on their faces. Their reactions to the feds, the earlier conversations, all of it added up and created a conclusion. Booth decided to step in; he had seen enough.
"Hold your fire men. The one we're looking for isn't with them." Booth stepped out from his shelter in the trees, leading Brennan by the hand as she hobbled out behind him. A chorus of voices rose from the group of men in the center of the clearing, celebrating.
"You found her!" "Alright, she's safe!" "Way to go, man!" and other things like that were heard. Booth still felt slightly uneasy as he continued to glance around him. Arcult wasn't in view. Randy Medder still looked a little frightened as well, glancing around trying to locate Arcult. The group in the center began to disperse as the gunmen lowered their firearms.
"Where is Joe Arcult?" Booth took another step forward and protectively pulled Brennan closer to him, their arms touching as she leaned slightly on him to lift some of the stress on her knee. A series of murmurs reached his ears as the men whispered amongst themselves and looked around. When they had first been aimed at, they had thought that perhaps one of them was a criminal or there was a serial killer in the woods nearby. Nobody suspected their gentle supervisor, but that's what made his ploy work so damn well.
"He was here a second ago." One said.
"Must'a gotten scared when the sirens came up." Another added. Booth grimaced. The old man was making this so much harder than it should be. He was working alone among a set of good, law-abiding citizens who wanted nothing more than to go out everyday and save whoever they were called to. Why did this have to be so difficult?
"We got a runner…" Booth muttered under his breath so only Tempe could hear him. Aloud, he shouted, "Arcult may be armed and dangerous. It is imperative that we find this man, and soon!" Medder now looked a bit guilty, like he had done something incredibly wrong but at the same time was doing something right. Nobody heard the dull roar of the motor over the hustle and bustle of a manhunt; nobody noticed the truck begin to go into reverse and slowly turn out into the middle of camp.
Multiple shots rang out as the car began to plow through the camp, swerving every which way so that you not only had to avoid bullets, but avoid getting run over as well. As dirt flew into the air around the clearing, Booth and Brennan ran back to the trees. The rescue team shouted and dove for cover behind the chairs and machines in the area, and the SWAT teams shot back at the car. Booth felt Brennan's hand fall from his as she shouted, and he turned to see her lying on the ground, a hand held tightly across her torso just below her ribcage, covering her side. Booth scooped her up and finished the few feet to the cover of the trees before setting her onto the ground, trembling. He fell to his knees and pulled her hand away from her side as bullets peppered the ground beside them.
Booth sighed in relief, though it was short-lived. The bullet had only grazed her, leaving a steadily darkening stain of blood on her side. Brennan clamped her hand back onto the wound and pressed hard, trying to stop the flow. Booth removed his gun from the holster at his side and turned back to the clearing. An explosion followed by a scream reverberated through the forest.
Machinery was smoking from where it had been shot, small fires hissing and multiple fold out chairs lying on the ground with twisted metal legs and punctured backing. Ground was upturned where the lead bore into it and tire tracks swirled around the site. The rescue men were trembling on the ground, hands over their heads for what little protection they could get. The large truck was turned over on its side, wheels still spinning. One of the SWAT members must have shot out the tires. The rescue team scrambled to their feet after the shots stopped, and after checking themselves over for injures, they ran to the cover of the federal gunmen. One man, though, remained facedown in the clearing, not moving. A puddle of rusty blood began to form around him, but it was not he who had screamed.
Joe Arcult gaped at the young man among the wreckage, eyes wide and scared. He dropped out of the cab of the truck and landed hard on the ground. Then he picked himself up and ran out across the ground, his left leg bent at a funny angle. His large semiautomatic gun lay forgotten by the truck. He finally reached the still man and fell beside him, ignoring his broken leg as tears that were not from pain began to form in his eyes.
"Randy? Can you hear me?" Arcult's voice quavered, the guns of federal men trained on him. Arcult gently rolled the man, identified now as the strong Randy Medder, onto his back.
"Joe?" Randy's voice retained the strength and steadiness it held before. Arcult looked guiltily at him and shook his head slowly and deliberately.
"It's over, boy. No need for that anymore." Arcult whispered. Medder smiled and coughed.
"Well, I'd have rather died before exposing you for what you are." Arcult shook his head in disbelief and denial, applying more pressure to the bullet wound on his chest and refusing to accept the cold truth. "Dying at twenty-five wasn't really on my to-do list, but, hey. Better that than betray you, dad." He spoke softly, the life fading from his still body as Randy Medder Arcult breathed his last breath into the cool evening air, a broken father's cries slowly rising with it.
"His son…" Brennan whispered in disbelief. Booth hesitated, and then lowered his gun. Arcult wouldn't be doing anything now. To lose his son, probably his only son, to his own act of madness would live with him for the rest of his life, tormenting him in prison where his only companions were the demons that haunted his twisted mind. Randy remained loyal to his father until he died. Booth thought about his own son. Would Parker do that for him? It both saddened and surprised Booth to think that he did not know the answer to that question. How could he? Seeley Booth was barred from his son, yet the two Arcults worked side by side, day after day. They truly had a father and son bond, something Booth did not know if he could, or would, ever have with his son Parker. A soft touch on his cheek awakened him from his plaguing thoughts.
"Are you okay?" Temperance's voice was soft, and Booth felt comforted by the concern in her tone. He nodded and offered her a small smile, not fooling anyone as his eyes traveled back to the despairing man in the camp.
"Parker?" Brennan guessed, following his gaze to father and son. Booth nodded again, and Tempe understood. "He would do the same for you." She smiled gently at him, but as much as Booth wanted to believe her, he couldn't. Not yet.
The federals were approaching Arcult slowly, trying not to scare him off. The tired man looked up at the approaching gunmen. The life was gone from his eyes; he had nothing left to live for. There was no purpose, usually an incentive to go crazy and do something along the lines of felony. Not Arcult. The careworn father made no protest as the men gathered him up and quickly escorted him to their cars. Booth immediately stood up and turned to Brennan.
"Medic. Now." He ordered, picking her up again and stepping towards the grouping of government cars across the almost empty camp. Ambulance lights were flashing silently as some of the medics loaded Randy's body into the back. One looked up and saw Booth walking over with a struggling, yet hurt, forensic anthropologist in his arms.
"What do we have here?" The medic cracked a grin. Brennan muttered something about arrogant and egotistical FBI agents and Booth laughed at her, the vulnerable Seeley gone for the moment, hidden again behind walls, just like Brennan.
"Where to start? She fell in the river, got thrown against rocks and a tree, almost got struck by lightning,-" Booth started before Brennan cut him off.
"No need to retell the bruises and scratches. Those don't matter." She turned back to the medic. "I got stabbed in the stomach, grazed by a bullet, injured my knee on a rock in the river, and my wrists were cut into by some wire." Brennan stated flatly, not thrilled at the idea of people in white and blue bustling around to take care of her injuries. The medic nodded and opened his mouth to speak. "And I am not going to a hospital." She finished. Booth sighed. That was that.
"Okay, let's take a look." The medic opened the back of the ambulance and brought out a medical kit and a stool. Booth set Brennan down on her feet and stood behind her, supporting her if needed. The medic sat on the stool and Brennan lifted her shirt to reveal her purple ribs and injuries. A strip of red showed the path of the bullet, still bleeding slightly. The stab wound had stopped bleeding, and dried blood surrounded the cut on her taught stomach. The EMS man took out an alcohol pad and dabbed around the cut first, clearing off the dried blood to reveal a long, thin line, thicker at one end then tapering off towards the other end. He did the same thing to the bullet mark. After various creams and more dabbing, the medic took out a stretch of gauze and bandages and wrapped it tightly around Brennan's torso before cutting the end and taping it off.
"That takes care of the bullet and the knife. Let me see your wrists." Temperance held out her hands were Booth's makeshift dressings still covered her wrists. The medic slit the cloth and gently peeled off the left one for the lovely sight of raw flesh and dried blood. Beautiful. The same procedure as before was used, and after her left and right wrist were covered with clean bandages, he got up from the stool and sat Brennan down on it to look at her knee.
The already torn fabric gave easily to the medic as he ripped it up the side so he could access the hurt knee. A large gash ran down the side of the leg and the joint was purple and black, not unlike the rest of her body.
"Ouch." Booth muttered. The medic gave a low whistle.
"You've been running around on that all day? Well, lucky for you, the river temperature helped keep the swelling down initially, so now you just have to deal with some nasty bruises and a gash." The medic poked and prodded Brennan's knee, checking for anything broken or dislocated before cleaning it and handing her an ice pack.
"Looks like you're good to go. Just make sure to change the bandages every few hours to avoid infection. And it would probably be in your best interest to see a doctor within the next few days, just to be sure." Brennan rolled her eyes and looked down at her knee.
"No skirts for awhile." She said plainly, the sarcasm a likely result from spending too much time around Booth. Said FBI agent pretended to look sad.
"Oh, man." He grumbled. Brennan smacked him. Hard.
"Can we go?" She sounded tired, the morphine from the EMS guy taking effect. Booth looked at her on the stool. It had been a long day for both of them, he thought as his stomach growled softly. A glance at his now-scratched watch showed him that it was around five in the afternoon.
"Yeah. We can, Bones." He replied in an equally tired voice, response earning him a glare from Brennan. "You hungry?" She rolled her eyes again and he helped her hobble to his car.
Well, here's the first ending I wrote. Needless to say, I'm not that happy with it, so I wrote an epilogue. The draft of it is already complete, I just have to type and edit. So if I get plenty of nice reviews for this chapter, I will give you guys the grand finale before Monday as a special treat! -Ash