Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I apologise for the cliffhanger (laughs manically), but it was fun!
Chapter 7 – Drawings
Brennan looked at him with surprise. Booth had just asked her out on a date. Suddenly she was unaware of his wet clothes and found that she was looking in on herself, seeing the barriers that she had cultivated over the years, and an attempted threat on them, some of them looking as though they might crumble under the weight of this strange feeling Booth had planted in her. He came into focus again; his face earnest and if anything a little shocked that he had actually asked her out.
"Are you asking me on a date, Booth?" She inquired, a little perturbed at the coolness in her voice.
"No, I just thought that you might like to go… I have an invite for me plus one, and thought… well, you know, I know formal things like this aren't really your style, but sometimes these FBI things are quite fun, and well…" he looked down at his feet and then back up at her, his disjointed sentence and obvious discomfort strangely endearing. "Goddamn it, Temperance! Yes! I'm asking you on a date!" He spat out.
She laughed, her cheeks feeling hotter than what the sun would have caused,like the first time she had been asked out when she had been at high school. He looked worried, and she realised he thought she was probably laughing at him.
"Yes, I'll go on a date with you, Seeley," she answered, her eyes dancing with amusement, partly at his reaction and partly at her own response and the feeling it had given her. She didn't understand how he had made her feel like this, but she knew it was pleasant, more than pleasant, if a little scary.
The smug look came over his face, the shock of her response evaporating. "I knew you couldn't resist me for much longer," he said. She sent him a mock glare and turned her head away in pretend disgust at his attitude, hearing him laugh lightly as she did so.
"Bones," she heard him say quietly, his tone soft, sending shivers down her spine. "Don't cancel on me will you?" She turned and faced him, his expression now serious. Something that had been frozen inside of her began to melt with the heat of the promises contained in the words. His eyes look beguilingly at her, seriousness encapsulated in his irises.
"I won't," she said a little tentatively. She didn't like formal events like the one he had described, but with the way he was looking at her she would have accompanied him to Mars, had such a thing been possible.
He nodded, and began walking around the area where he had discovered the paper. She crouched down, knowing that the conversation was finished – for now – and it was time to get on with what they were there to do.
Her fingers sifted through the soil, looking to see if anything else had been dropped. The ground was still slightly damp, not yet dried completely after the drenching, even with all of the sun that had been pouring out since. They scanned around the area for almost an hour, looking under bushes, upturning leaves and stones and any hollows in trees. Nothing further appeared. Any footprints had been erased by the rain, and any places that hadn't been rained upon hadn't held any traces that were visible.
Booth ended their search as the temperature increased, sweat covering his brow and frustration coating his expression. He shook his head, his eyes holding depths that she had never really noticed until now, at least noticed consciously anyway.
"Let's head back," he murmured, tossing a small stone he had found into the air. Brennan nodded, arching her back slightly, stretching.
"Are we going across the river again?" She asked, thinking of the paper that had been put into a plastic evidence bag, once the bag had dried out after their excursions in the river.
He nodded. "It's the quickest way back, and I promise not to dump you in the water this time," he said with a half sorrowful smile.
She wanted to tell him that it was a pity, that she would welcome another opportunity to be that close to him, feeling the heat of his body seep into hers, and his heart pounding against her chest, but the words wouldn't come. "I'm just concerned about damaging this," she held the bag out to him.
The look he gave her was one of barely hidden disappointment. He had wanted her to say something about them being close again, and she had once again kept her walls up. She felt a tinge of sadness within her, and wished to take back the words and have the courage to tell him what she had really been thinking, but the time had passed.
They walked in silence for awhile, approaching the river fairly slowly. Brennan was sure that this was the hottest day she had ever known, and she wished that they could find somewhere to store the new evidence while she went for a swim.
"I'm actually looking forward to getting back to the lab," Booth said with a laugh, the first either had spoken in some time, the quietness sitting comfortably between them.
Brennan laughed as they began the gentle descent down the bank into the shallow river. Booth stopped and turned back once he got to mid calf level in the water, holding a hand out to her. Her initial thought was that he was being chauvinistic, offering to help her walk across part of a river that was neither deep nor fast flowing, and then she remembered that she had the evidence bag on her person, and figured that he was wanting to help preserve the paper that they had found. "I can manage," she told him.
"I know," his hand remained there. She tried to ignore it, resisting the temptation to hold it. "Bones," he said in exasperation.
"I am perfectly capable of wading through a stretch of water like this and protecting evidence," she argued back.
He dropped his hand. "Do you never consider that it's more than trying to help you?" He demanded. She looked up at him, a little confused. He shook his head. She wondered what she hadn't understood this time. Obviously he wasn't about to enlighten her.
He stayed beside her as they waded across the water, saying nothing, his face expressionless. Once they reached the opposite bank he scrambled up quickly, and then leant back down again, his hand reaching to hers. "Just let me pull you up," he told her in a tone that kept her from refusing. The incline was fairly steep, with a few sharp jagged edges in the rocks. They could have waded further down the river to where it was only a short step up, but that would have added an extra hour or so onto their day. Brennan was feeling thirsty; neither she nor Booth had thought to bring water out and she was desperate for a drink.
She took his hand, feeling it grip tightly around hers as he yanked her upwards onto the bank. Her other hand was grasping the paper, making sure it couldn't slip away. Her eyes caught his, and she felt the rest of the world disappear. She arrived on the bank with a jolt, and he secured her in his arms. Automatically her arms went to his, unbalanced by the force of the pull and she found herself momentarily enjoying the closeness. Brennan didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing on his still damp clothing, but still felt the tension between them. Her hand tightened a little more round around his arm and she forced herself to meet his eyes. She saw the same depths in them that she had before, and then it was Booth's turn to let go. She felt suddenly cold as he loosened his hands away from her skin, and a sense of emptiness encapsulated her. He seemed to notice; maybe the look on her face was providing a window to her thoughts.
"Bones?" He muttered, frowning at her, concerned.
She pulled herself together. "I'm fine, Booth. I think we should go and get something to drink. It's hot, and neither of us have had any liquid for sometime."
He nodded, and they quickly fell into step, making their way back to the car.
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Brennan had been tossing and turning in bed for long enough now to debate whether sleep was actually going to happen. Booth had taken her to the lab, where they had studied the slip of paper before sending it to the FBI's forensics people. Nothing else had been written on it; only the printed details of the school. She had done a rubbing of it, and found that nothing had been written on topof it, it was completely blank.
Booth had dropped her off at home, promising to pick her up in the morning to go to the school and have a dig about there for information. She had closed the door behind him rather reluctantly, watching for a few seconds as he walked down her path. She remembered that he still had her spare key and she hadn't asked him for it back. She found the thought of comforting, that it was him who was looking after her in someway. She had never been happy to be reliant on anyone, becoming accustomed to being independent since she had gone into care. She was surprised at how easy it had been to trust Booth with something such as the key, knowing that should she every need it then he was only a phone call away, and would never be cross or annoyed at having been disturbed by her, no matter what the time or what he was doing. It felt nice, not like she was failing, or showing a weakness.
She had pottered in her kitchen, making a quick meal of fresh pasta and a pre prepared sauce. Cooking wasn't something she specialised in. She wasn't terrible at it, managing to make most things; it just wasn't something that she did as well as some people could.
After eating she checked her answering machine for messages, and heard Angela's voice piping up through the speakers.
"Bren, its Angela. Give me a call, sweetie. I want to know everything that's been going on," the message had been left in Angela's usually bubbly tone. Brennan sighed. She should return the call, even though she knew it would be a long conversation and she was tired, and feeling more anti-social than usual and she just wanted to curl up in front of her laptop and write this scene between Kathy and her hot FBI agent who Brennan swore had net been based on Seeley Booth.
She dialled Angela's number from her memory, never having taken the time to understand how the memory buttons on the phone worked. Angela answered in her breezy voice, sounding as happy as she always did.
"Bren! How's it going? How's Booth?" The final question caused Brennan to sit down and pull a cushion onto her lap, relaxing into the chair and debating exactly how much to tell her friend about the day's events, including the swim in the river.
"We found a compliment slip from Thomas' school at the other side of the river from where the body was found. It seems logical that the slip came from the perpetrator when he was dumping the body. We managed to speak to Thomas' principal and his teacher, who no longer works at the school. The head said that Thomas was seen getting into a car that the teacher recognised as being his mom's, so absolving the school from any responsibility. This wasn't reported at the time, and the principal is blaming that on the fact that the teacher was too upset to recall it," she explained to Angela.
"That definitely sounds suspicious. What does Booth think?" Angela asked.
"He thinks we should start at the school tomorrow, ask a few questions. He believes that the principal is lying and that Thomas did go back into school, and he was taken from there," Brennan continued.
"And you don't agree with him?" Angela guessed.
"No, it's not that exactly. It's just a lot of this is being based on his gut feeling as we don't have a lot to work from. I'd feel better if we had some evidence to support us," Brennan explained, frustrated.
"You have to remember, hon, that Booth knows what he is doing. He's a good cop. I know he works from his instincts, and you are the opposite, but how often are his instincts wrong?" Angela pacified.
Brennan was silent for a short while. "I'm aware of the differences between myself and Agent Booth," she said, recalling their similarities at the same time.
"I know you sometimes find him difficult to deal with, Bren, but you do work well together," Angela's voice reasoned. "How has it been other than the case? You've spent a lot of time together this weekend."
Brennan wondered what Angela would say to what happened in the river. She took a deep breath and decided to tell her. She still felt confused about what had actually happened, and maybe Angela would be able to help. "Booth and I…" she began stiltedly, not quite sure how to explain it.
"Booth and you what?" Angela demanded, already sniffing out something interesting.
Brennan sighed. No way out now. She would have to tell. "We had to wade through the river. We were splashing each other, and I put some dead reeds down his back. He picked me up and dumped me in the river," she explained, not going into detail about the looks they had exchanged and how close he had been to her lips.
"And?" Angela pressed. "He kept hold of you, didn't he? Wow, Bren!" Brennan slumped heavily into the chair, and began to answer Angela's questions, trying not to let her friend put words into her mouth.
By the end of the interrogation Brennan felt as if she could just fall asleep there on the couch. "So," her friend continued. "Now, do you believe me that Booth has a thing for you?"
"I don't know, Ange," Brennan replied wearily. "He's asked me to some FBI ball on Saturday, so I might need you to help me with something to wear," she said unenthusiastically.
"You agreed to go to a ball with Booth?" Angela said in shock. "You hate those things."
"I know. It was a weak moment," Brennan confided.
"You have a date with Booth!" Angela continued her surprised tone. Brennan exhaled deeply; clearly this was going to be a long call.
After talking to Angela she managed to find the inspiration to continue with her new chapter, the clock ticking discreetly in the background as time slipped by into the next day. It was one thirty in the morning before she next looked up, and her conscience told her to go to bed, knowing that Booth would be waking her early to head off to the school.
Thoughts of Booth stayed with her as she got ready for bed, changing into an oversized t-shirt and running a brush through her hair. She applied moisturiser, knowing that the sun would have taken its toil on her fair skin. She pictured Booth, his skin darker than hers, hair deep brown, with those amazingly broad shoulders. When she had been in his arms she had felt so safe and protected, the feelings a little had to accept. She was perfectly capable of protecting herself, of making herself feel safe. She didn't need him.
She was plagued with images of the agent as she lay in bed, turning restlessly, trying to shake thought of him out of her head. She imagined the next chapter of her book, but every time she thought of Ryan, her main character's love interest,he had Booth's face, and spoke with Booth's voice. She tried to focus on the case, recapping facts, but again, only Booth was in her mind, she almost felt his hand still gripping hers as he had pulled her up the bank of the river.
A clock in the distance struck three am, and Brennan wondered if sleep would visit her, or if she was better getting up and trying to occupy herself, maybe going to the lab and working on the backlog of cases that were stacking up.
She turned over one last time, her eyes dropping heavily and she felt the beginnings of sleep lap gently at her. Then she heard a noise, scaring away sleep, and she sat bolt upright in bed. It was her cell phone. She grabbed it from beside her bed, answering it without checking who was calling.
"Bones," the voice from her head said.
"Booth," she greeted, surprised at how sleepy her tone was.
"Sorry to wake you. Another boy from Greenhold School has been taken. I need you," he said. She found herself focusing on the last sentence. I need you.
"I'm awake. You picking me up?" She asked.
"I'm outside your house now," she heard him say back. She got out of bed and walked to the window.Looking out she saw him standing in her front garden, staring back up at her.
"Let yourself in and make some coffee," she told him about to hang up.
"What's your alarm code?" He asked.
"I've not set it," she answered, hanging up quickly before she heard his rebuke.
It was a matter of minutes before she joined him in the kitchen, watching him hunt through the cupboards, finding the coffee making equipment like he'd always lived there.
"He's David Matthieson," Booth began, glancing at her, none of the look in his eyes that had been causing her so much confusion. She wondered if she had imagined it, or if it was just back to business. "He's ten years old and was playing on the street at around seven this evening. His mom went out to call him in and he wasn't there. She searched, but couldn't find him and reported him missing at eight thirty. Some bright spark at the local PD noticed that the school was the same as Thomas Dyer's and called me. We need to head over to the Matthieson place," he finished, handing her a cup of coffee. She noticed he had made it exactly the way she liked it and then wondered why she was so surprised at the fact. She would have known exactly how to make his coffee.
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Booth drove fast over to where Mr and Mrs Matthieson lived, breaking all speeding laws, but in his eyes it was an emergency. They had a relatively good idea of what had happened to Thomas Dyer; he did not want another child to meet the same fate, and these first few hours were crucial.
He was only too aware of the woman sat next to him in the car, wearing beige slacks and a thin white shirt, hair loosely tied up and face naked of make up. She still looked stunning, although it was the early hours of the morning and they should both be asleep. He wondered what it would be like to wake up with her and then tried to imagine cold seas and shark attacks, knowing that he couldn't let his imagination run away with him, he needed to stay on task.
They were still in silence by the time they pulled up at the Matthieson's, both jumping out of the car and heading to the door with a purpose. Mr Matthieson let them in, his face pale and wan, filled with an intense worry that made Booth want to phone Rebecca and check Parker was okay. Mrs Matthieson brought them coffee almost straight away.
"We've looked everywhere – contacted everyone," she informed them. "I don't think we've left anyone out. Even relatives that are out of state we've been in touch with." Booth noticed that she seemed remarkably calm and controlled for a mother whose son had just gone missing.
"Why are you here?" Mr Matthieson asked, drinking coffee that was still steaming hot. "How come the FBI are here and you have her with you?" He pointed to Bones. Booth felt her stiffen. She did not like the way Matthieson had referred to her.
"You are aware that Thomas Dyer was abducted, possibly from outside Greenhold School?" Both parents nodded. "We found his body on Friday. The fact that both boys attend the same school is enough for me to get involved." He looked at the look of fear increase on their faces and wondered if he had been too harsh in his deliverance of the details. But they needed to be aware of it, of what had happened. It may make them freer with giving out details about their son.
"What do you need to know?" The mother asked, holding her palms outwards to him in a subconscious offering.
"What he was doing the last time you saw him and what mood he was in. Who his friends were in his class and what his relationship was like with his teachers," Booth began to list.
"He was playing soccer outside, and was completely happy. He was going on a trip tomorrow with school, looking at the local environment. They were going to a river, and he was really excited about it," Mrs Matthieson continued, tears now rolling down her cheeks.
"Which river was that?" Brennan jumped in.
"Sanuye," David's father answered. "It's not too far from the school, so the class were going to walk. My wife was to go as a parent helper, so there were enough adults to keep an eye on all the children." Booth nodded.
"Who was his teacher?" Booth asked, his fingers interlocked and resting in between his knees.
"Mrs Sanderson," the mother responded, now in control of her tears. "We found her to be a good teacher. He seemed to have made strides this year in her class and really loved school." Booth nodded, listening as other information was given their way.
"Is it possible I could have a look at your son's room?" Bones asked.
The father nodded, standing up. "Follow me," he instructed. "We haven't touched anything," he assured.
"I looked under the bed to check he wasn't hiding under the bed," Mrs. Matthieson inserted. "He had done that before."
Booth looked round the room, watching a Bones began to check in drawers. She seemed to be on a mission to find something, looking rapidly around.
"I don't suppose David kept a journal, did he?" She asked his parents who were stood in the doorway. He could tell they were wondering how the hell this had happened to them, and felt a grief for them that burned his soul. It wasn't fair.
Mrs Matthieson shook her head. "He had no time to. He was very sporty, wanted to go over to England eventually and play soccer professionally, so all of his free time was spent doing that."
"Where did he learn soccer?" Booth asked, watching Bones as she pulled up the mattress to no avail.
"At school. One of the teachers was interested in it – Mr Wheeler," Booth nodded at the father's answer.
"Booth!" He heard Bones shout from across the room. He rushed to her, the Matthieson's close behind.
"I found these in David's blazer," she showed him a few pieces of paper. He took them off her and began to look through them. Each was a picture of a man with no mouth, drawn in pencil and identical to the ones they had found in Thomas Dyer's room.
"Those haven't been done by David," his mother attested.
Her husband shook his head. "He could draw, but not as well as that." Brennan looked up at Booth, the worry obvious in her eyes.
"This all links back to the school," she said quietly.
Booth nodded. "What time does Angela get up?" He asked. "She needs to take a look at these and see if the same person who drew Thomas' did these."
"I can phone her now," Brennan said, taking out her cell.
"Leave it for a few minutes. Let's head over to the lab first and call her from there," he said, thinking hard. "Mr and Mrs Matthieson, we have search parties out looking for David as we speak. We will find him, I promise."
"That you. I just hope its you who finds him and not the doctor lady," the husband looked at Bones, now standing next to Booth, close enough for him to sense what she was feeling.
"I'm an anthropologist, Mr Matthieson," Bones said back, a biting tone that he knew the Matthiesons would not have picked up on, but he had. "I help out Agent Booth whenever I can. I know we will get your son back safe and well," she said. Booth almost smiled at her. She had managed to be tactful.
"Thank you," Mr Matthieson said in an almost whisper as they followed him downstairs and then wentout of the house, the feeling of dreaded anticipation lying heavily upon them.
Please review - it's really helpful to know what you think. Thank you to all those people who have reviewed and especially those who review every chapter.
I'm getting a lot of hits, and its great to know that so many people are reading this - gives me such a rush! - but please let me know your opinion. All reviews are good; anonymous, signed,smileys, one word, a paragraph... all are loved and cherished.
Am off to bed now, and am hoping for dreams of Danny Messer (CSI:NY) Sigh. Hope to hear from you all via that review button...
