A/N: Thank you for all the reviews - I'm overwhelmed with how many people are enjoying the story. There is more fluff coming, I promise, as well as more plot - but hey, read and you'll see.

A big hello to Esmerelda from the TP pages!

I do apologise for the cliffhangers...


Chapter 10 – Splinters

Brennan began to pace through the long grass, aware of the movement of crickets around her and the sun burning the back of her neck. She pulled her hair down to offer the skin some protection and tucked the tie into her pocket. Booth was walkalong sideher, both of them moving almost at a run. From the banks of the river she had seen an area of grass that had been flattened, and her sharp eyes had caught sight of a trainer, abandoned a little further in, but completely visible even in the dense covering of grass. There were no trees now except for the odd sapling that had been planted by a local school or an environmental group, and the sun's power seemed to have increased. She was concerned about having left the hut unattended, but knew that there was nothing that they could do until they had called for back up. She saw Booth check his phone again, and heard him curse. Still no reception, and her own was the same.

They came near to the flattened grass, approaching it slowly and watching where they stood, not wanting to disturb any evidence, should they be needing any. She saw it lying there, skin almost completely eradicated like Thomas Dyer, a few tendons holding bones together. This time there was no blanket, and this time the boy was a lot older; but still, she felt the same wince of pain and disgust at this type of human behaviour.

"How old?" Booth asked, not moving from the space he had been stood in when he had first seen the body.

"I don't know – teenager – but I need to take a closer look to be exact," she went a little closer, kneeling down and wafting away the flies that were buzzing round the corpse, eyeing the last little bits of flesh that were still there. "He's not been here long," she said back to the agent, who was still not moving. "There are no hatched eggs, so less than twelve hours. Hodgins will be able to tell us more."

"Blow flies will still lay their eggs on that?" Booth asked. "There's barely any flesh."

"But there is some, which is lucky for us. He's not done as good a job with the bleach this time. This was a rush job." She felt a spot of wet on her arm and noticed that the light was fading and the temperature had dropped, clouds beginning to cover the sky ominously. She turned round and looked at Booth. "Seeley," she shouted. "You need to get reception on that thing quick," she said in exasperation. "There may be evidence here and we need to get someone to process the scene." He was silent. "Booth?"

She stood up and left the body, Booth's silence worrying her. She strode over to him, feeling another spot of rain on her face. The air was promising thunder, as were the Limothrips Cerealium – thunder flies – that were flying about, which they often did before a storm. Looking at him, she saw that he was in quite a bit of discomfort.

"My leg's not too good," he winced.

"Show me," she demanded. He lifted up the trouser leg and she saw that he had a collection of rather large and nasty looking splinters in his calf, plus a gash that looked as if it had been done by a nail. "I need to see to that, it's getting infected."

He shook his head and handed her his phone. "I'll stay with the body – you run up the river bank till you get reception, and then dial Cullen," he instructed. "I'll live," he assured her.

She set her chin stubbornly, glaring at him. "Fine, Booth, but that cut needs looking at. It's infected already."

"I know, I can feel it," he groaned, edging to the body, having gotten a pair of gloves and some evidence bags out of her kit. "I'll scan around. I'd say we have a few more minutes before the skies open." She looked at him, puzzled. "Before it rains, Bones," he explained.

She nodded. "But the sky can't open."

"I know, and so do most other people, it's an expression, probably from before people understood precipitation," he said, sarcasm brewing in his words.

"That would answer it," she agreed. "I'll be as quick as I can." He nodded, and she knew he was watching her as she ran back toward the river, checking the phone every few seconds. Less than five minutes after she had left Booth she saw the bars appear on the phone that meant she had a signal. Stopping abruptly she searched through the phone book, not knowing how to find somebody's number quickly on this model – she couldn't even do that on her own. She past her own numbers, 'Bones Home', 'Bones Lab', 'Bones Mob' and smiled as she saw them, having a feeling that Booth knew her numbers already. 'Cullen' came shortly after and she hit dial, feeling slightly apprehensive at the prospect of taking to the man whom she knew did not like her.

"Booth," he greeted when he answered the phone.

"Agent Cullen, it's Dr Brennan," she said, as firmly as she could.

"Then why are you using Booth's phone?" She could hear the dislike in his voice. "Have you shot him by accident?" She did not like him also.

"No. We've found another body and a hut where there is evidence to suggest that David Matthieson was held. I also suspect that the cause of Thomas Dyer's death was poisoning, and the substance that was used is inside the hut. We need forensics and people here to help us put as soon as possible," she heard a growl of thunder reverberate around her as she spoke. "The weather is also going to be a hindrance."

"Where's Booth?" His boss snapped.

"He's with the body. He's sustained an injury and we had no phone reception. I've ran until I could pick up the service," she answered. "Look, Agent Cullen, we need someone here as quickly as possible," a few drops of rain began to fall heavily on her hair. She gave the man details of their whereabouts.

"I assume you are going back to Booth?" Cullen asked. "And therefore you'll be non contactable?"

"Yes, I need to see how the infection is in his leg, and do what I can with the body before the rain washes away any evidence. There are blow fly eggs that could be used to determined…"

"Fine, Dr Brennan, save your explanations for the rest of the squints," she heard Cullen say. "I've got someone on it – they'll be with you soon."

She hung up, folding the phone and running back over her steps, calling out Booth's name as soon she was close enough for him to hear.

"Bones!" She heard him shout back. He was crouching next to the body, trying to set up a canopy with a large plastic bin sack that had been in her kit and several tall branches that he must have scavenged for.

"Good idea," she praised. He nodded. "How's your leg?"

"I'll live," he replied, voice serious. "How long till the cavalry come?"

"Cullen said they were on their way. He really doesn't like me, does he?" She replied, squeezing under the canopy that was now being lightly dripped on by the beginning of the downpour.

"He's not keen," Booth struggled under with her. "From what my inexperienced, untrained eye has deduced while being here I can't see any big dints in the bones, or breaks that look fresh." Brennan took hold of the flashlight and began to look at the bones. She figured that they were of a male aged between thirteen and fifteen. He had been in good health, with the usually childhood injuries with old breaks to his arms and legs. The fact that he had those breaks could assist in identifying him. She said all her thoughts out loud, as she would if she was at the lab and was dictating to Zack, or into a machine. She saw Booth looking at her, amusement on his face which she found disconcerting.

"This is how I work," she defended. Booth grinned back at her.

"I know. It's just…" he laughed and looked away.

"Just what?" She pushed, feeling paranoid.

"You look, well, some men would say you looked kinda sexy, all involved like that with your work," he gave that smile that would have been irresistible to most women. She felt her stomach jolt at the look, and realised she wasn't as immune to himas she'd like to be.

"Booth," she counteracted. "You know you're telling me that I look sexy over a dead body, don't you?" She said dryly.

"I didn't say you looked sexy, I said that some men would find you sexy. I never said I was one of them," he waved his finger at her, trying to look stern and meaning what he said, but he was desperate to laugh. Her eyes danced with his as she heard voices heading to them.

Brennan poked her head out of under the canopy and saw members of the FBI's forensics team heading to them. Both she and Booth escaped from under the plastic sheet, the sky now dark and threatening above their heads. Rain had begun to fall steadily, large, heavy drops beating down. She watched as other people photographed the remains and checked the area for any evidence that she and Booth had missed, but it seemed that they had been pretty thorough. She saw one man asking Booth to show them the way to the hut, and Booth began to lead him away, closely followed by a couple of other members of his team. She caught up to him; he still had her kit, still carrying it for her. She noticed that he had a slight limp from the infection that was in his leg, and she realised that they had to get it treated before it became worse. She also knew that telling him that he needed to get it seen too would not help either.

It seemed to take less time to get to the hut than what it had done to get to the place where they had found the body, even though the floor was now bouncing with heavy rain, puddles quickly forming as the ground didn't have time to soak in all the liquid.

The hut was as they had left it, Booth's lock up job having been effective in keeping out the rain. She watched, someone having passed her a large, black umbrella, as the forensics people entered the house. She shouted out instructions that she knew weren't necessary with regards to the bottles of what she suspected were sodium monofluoroacetate, or Compound 1080, a poison used to kill vermin that had been banned in the states in 1972. She imagined that Cullen would have the forensics people look into the poison, although she was willing to bet that it was what she thought.

Cullen appeared behind them, making Booth jump. She smiled as the FBI agent looked startled by his boss. "Well done," he said to them. She looked at him with some shock. Was that compliment meant for her as well? "We'll have the body taken to your lab, Dr Brennan," Cullen nodded at her, ducking his head under the umbrella. So far Booth was proving his masculinity by not taking shelter, and was now soaking wet. "I suggest you both get some sleep, and go straight home after this. The body can wait, Dr Brennan," he said sternly. "Tiredness leads to errors and there are no room for errors in this game. It's six o'clock," she was momentarily stunned by the time, having not realised just how long they had been outside for. "And the identification can wait until tomorrow. You'll also be interested to know that we received a phone call twenty minutes after the doctor phoned, informing us that there was a body just past the fisherman's place."

Booth raised his eyebrows. "With all due respect, Sir, a little boy is still missing," a roll of thunder punctuated his sentence.

"And with all due respect, Agent Booth, we have people out looking for him. We have had a sighting in a derelict house just near the Sanuye River, and we are following that up," Cullen responded at his most biting.

"The courtyard in the school…" Booth began.

"Mrs. Dunn has promised to have a locksmith open the doors tomorrow and you can look round then. Agent Lorrimer looked at the locks this morning, and the door itself and was quite emphatic in saying that it did not appear to have opened for sometime," Cullen eyed him.

"I don't know, Sir," Booth began.

"I do, Booth, go home! Take Dr. Brennan and go somewhere and then sleep! You'll be more use to me if you've slept and had some time to think all this through. You're not the only one working in this case, you know!" Cullen's voice

"Yes, Sir," Booth responded. She could tell from his demeanour that he was annoyed.

"We can handle things from here," he said, hinting at them to go. Brennan looked at him, she was desperate to start working on the body, but she knew that in some ways it would be easier to begin in the morning, when she had recovered from this tiredness and Angela was there to begin a reconstruction.

She felt Booth take hold of her wrist and begin to pull her away, finally ducking under the umbrella, now that he was completely soaked.

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Booth knew he was struggling to hide the pain that his leg was causing him as he and Bones trekked back to his car. His calf muscle felt tight, and every step felt like he was tearing skin, a shooting pain whipping through him. There had been a rusty nail that he had noticed after he had kicked the hut door through and he figured that he must've caught it. The thin trousers he had worn had been torn, and what material was still where it should be was rubbing against the splinters he had also acquired, causing them to shift about in his skin, making him grimace with the irritating pain. He knew Bones was aware of his discomfort, and the sensible thing would to be to stop and let her at least take out the splinters and put some antiseptic cream on the cut, but it was streaming down with rain, and they were already drenched. He didn't want to keep them outside any longer than necessary.

Finally, he saw the car in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief. "Here," he said, handing the keys to Bones.

She looked at him with confusion.

"You're going to have to drive," he said.

"Your leg's bad," she said, looking at him with the same expression his mom used when rebuking him for playing outside in the rain, or refusing to take a painkiller if he had a headache, or for eating too much ice cream. He nodded, wincing a little.

"You think you can manage to drive it?" He asked, knowing that her indignance would take the attention away from his leg.

"I am a good driver, Booth. I shouldn't think your car is that much different to drive than mine," she retorted.

"You might even be able to park this one," he taunted. She glared back, remotely opening the doors.

He got into the passenger side, a new experience for him, and pushed the chair back as far as it would go, stretching out his leg. "You want me to take you to the emergency room and get that leg checked out?" He heard Bones say as she switched on the ignition.

"Can't you do something with it?" He asked, not feeling in the slightest bit like sitting in a hospital for four hours.

"I'm not a medical doctor," she replied, tentatively driving off.

"No, I'm aware of that, Bones, but you've been on enough digs in the middle of nowhere to know how to treat things like this. Can't you just drive us back to yours and have a look at it?" He said impatiently.

"I suppose. But if it is really bad then you're going to have to get medical attention," she replied, now seeming at ease driving his car. He watched her as discreetly as he could. It felt strange, her doing the driving, especially in his car. He studies the way she navigated herself around the streets, her caution and care, anticipating the movements of other drivers just as he would have done. He felt a pounding in his chest and the sudden urge to reach out a hand and touch her knee, just make contact with her.

The journey seemed to take no time at all and he realised that this was because he was enjoying the time he had just to be in her presence, able to watch her and take in her scent and nearness. She pulled up onto her drive, parking behind her own car. He opened his door and gingerly stepped out, trying to keep his leg straight. He put his hand in his pocket and fished about for his keys, knowing that hers was now on his key ring. He found them before she got hers outand jangled them at her. She gave him a half smile, and he wondered if she found it a little weird that someone else had the ability to enter her home after so long with it just being her.

She let him get ahead of her and open the door. He now felt a little strange, unlocking the door to her place, and he noticed that the atmosphere between them had changed. It wasn't awkward exactly, but this was unchartered territory between them; this was a different dynamic to their relationship.

He stepped back and let her go in first, noticing that she hadn't set her alarm. He would have to speak with her about that. She entered, taking off wet shoes and putting them in a shoe rack. He followed her actions, wincing as he bent down to slip off his trainers, and banging the door shut behind them.

"I've got some big baggy t-shirts and jogging pants," she said, looking at his saturated clothes. "They were an old college friend's who came to stay with me once, and left them behind."

He almost asked if he had been her lover, but managed to stop himself, knowing she wouldn't appreciate the question. "They would be great," he said, uncertain of how to behave.

"I should get those splinters out, and then you can have a shower before I put cream on. The water will wash out the cut," she looked at his leg, and beckoned him to follow her upstairs.

He hadn't been upstairs before in Bones' house, and he felt a little nervous as he walked up the stairs, dripping water over the plump, cushioned carpet. It was tastefully decorated, mementoes from the various places she had been hanging off wall, two tall wooden figures that almost gave him the heebie jeebies stood at the top of the steps. It was pretty much how he imagined Bones' house to look.

He followed her into her bedroom, sitting on the king sized bed, a plain cream coloured duvet thrown over it. The room smelt of sleep and of her. She left him there for a second and returned with a large, white bath sheet.

"Take your trousers off, and put this round your waist," she instructed, passing him the towel. "It'll be easier to see where the splinters are if there's no material in the way."

He grinned at the bizarreness of the comment. Things you never think you'd hear your partner say. If her saying those words had ever been imagined in his head before then they were certainly not in that tone.

"You don't have to turn your back, Bones," he said, laughter in his voice. "I have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm respecting your privacy, Booth," she retorted. He dropped the trousers on the floor and pulled off the soaking t-shirt, tying the bath sheet round his middle.

"It's safe to look now," he said, noticing a smile playing on her lips as she looked at him. She instructed him to put his leg up on the bed and sat facing him, tweezers in hand. She had already put the overhead light on, brightening the darkness caused by the darkened, rainy sky, and now she reached over and switched on the bedside lamp.

"Some of these look quite inflamed, Booth," she said. He didn't care. All he could feel were the gentle fingers of Temperance Brennan caressing his skin. He was the only thing she was focusing on right now, and he was enjoying it. He made eye contact with her, and she automatically looked away, cheeks a little flush. He knew that she was aware of the tension between them, here, in her bedroom, the weather outside stormy with the thunder pounding. Then he felt her pulled a splinter out of his skin and jerked violently, and thoughts of seducing Bones evaporating as the pain broke the tension.

"Sorry," she muttered, before attacking the next one.

"How many are there?" He gasped through gritted teeth.

"Quite a few more," she replied. "It would help if you could relax a bit more," she said sternly.

He spluttered. She tried to stop a grin, evilly pulling out another splinter while maintaining eye contact. He bit on his lip and refused to give her the satisfaction of yelling.

"You, Seeley Booth," she said, running a finger over the area of skin where there had been several splinters. "Are a big baby."

He put his hands behind his head and smiled at her, relieved that the pain was over.

"Turn over," she ordered, wet hair dripping on his leg.

"What?"

"You have more on the other side, turn," she said, prodding his thigh. He switched himself round, not unaware of how she had looked at his body. He buried his head into her pillow and inhaled her scent, wondering what it would be like to be able to bury his face into her hair; he heard a relaxed sigh leave his mouth before the next wave of pain hit him.

"I'm sorry, Booth," he heard her say. "That one was next to the cut. I really don't like causing you pain."

"Are you sure?" He turned his head round so he could see her. She didn't look like she was enjoying it; she wasn't smiling, and her eyes looked worried. "I always had you down as being a bit sadistic."

"In your dreams, Booth," she retorted.

"Many times," he put his head back down on the pillow, bracing himself for the next wave of pain.

"That's the last," she finally said, swinging her legs off the bed and putting the tissue with the splinters in the bin.

He turned back over and sat up, a thrill going through him at the fact that he was lying on her bed. She stood close enough for him to grab her, and he fought the urge to take hold of her and pull her onto the bed with him, although the look she was giving him he could almost read as asking him to touch her. Her eyes were wide and intensely blue, her shirt sticking to her with the wet, showing off her curves. He knew she was aware of his eyes moving over her, and the heat in the room began to become more intense; he was sure that the windows had steamed up.

"I'll just put some towels out for you in the bathroom," she said, backing out of the bedroom after what had seemed like an eternity of silence. He sighed and nodded, lying flat out on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

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Brennan dug out towels from the linen cupboard and hung them over the side of the bath. She added some extra shower gel and hair products to the shower cubicle, unsure of what Booth would want to use. Images of him in the shower flew in to her mind. She had already had an eyeful of his legs, muscular and toned, covered with dark hair, and hadn't been able to take her eyes off his chest, a fact she knew he had noticed, given the smirk on his face. She wondered what it would be like to be against his chest, feeling his heart beat as she had felt it when he had held her to him in the river. She shook her head, trying to empty out the thoughts and images, focusing on the fact that Booth was here because he had been injured and this had been the easiest place to get back to.

She walked into her room and saw Booth lying on his back, looking at the ceiling. "The bathroom's ready," she said, her eyes hovering on his chest, before swiftly moving when he looked at her.

"Great," he said, springing up and wincing with the deep cut in his leg. "You going to put some cream or something on it after?" He asked.

"I can if you want, but there's no reason why you can't do it yourself," she said, not realising why he was asking.

He gave her a grin. "Maybe I think your touch will help it heal quicker," he said.

"No body has a healing touch…" she began, not knowing how to deal with his flirting while he was stood semi-naked in her bedroom.

"Maybe it's just an excuse to have you touch me," he said, moving a little closer to her. She moved back, breathing suddenly becoming difficult. He moved slowly out of the room, giving her a grin that made her wish she was getting in that shower with him, his slight limp almost humorous until she saw the towel slip from round his waist, giving her a full view of his almost naked back.

She rested against the door frame, watching the bathroom doorclose and wondered how the night was going to end.


I know, another cliffie kind of, but hey, you know what to do to make me update quickly. Press review, say hi and tell me what you think of the chapter and the story so far. I hope I'm doing okay with Temperance - she is such a hard character to write.

Any type of review - smileys, signed, unsigned (that means you don't have to bea fanfic member - I didn't know that and I spent ages lurking and not reviewing!), one word or ten paragraphs long...

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