Have seriously developed a major obsession with Danny Messer and have become a lurker on the C2 forDanny/Lindsay shipper stories, mainly as no one's done a Danny/sarramaks one yet. Damn. I think I need some type of AA group for Danny Messer obsessives...
Eldred, on the other hand, has recovered from his chocolate eating spree and is now detoxing on home made fruit smoothies. He suffered withdrawals at first which made this chapter especially hard to write, but he's now doing fine, and even managed to find an extra twist for the tale after the second punnet of strawberries went in the blender.
The usual disclaimer applies.
Chapter 16 – The Darkest Hour
By the time Booth had spoken to Cullen, and information had been passed around and shared, it was almost evening. The blue sky had dimmed and clouds had begun to cover the earth like a warm duvet, insulating the planet's inhabitants for the night. Red, yellow and orange rays of dying sunshine tinted the clouds, changing the sky into an artist's palette, one which had been smeared by a child's fingers, mixing up the colours into blurs, textured by the darkening clouds and accentuated by the dark building that's silhouetted on the horizon like giants watching over the city.
It was an evening which could be described as serene, an air of calm exuded from most people as they milled about on their way home from work, or from wherever they had been, anxious to enjoy the remains of the day with family and loved ones, or just to relax in their own company, shedding the events of the day like a disposable skin. Booth's jacket had not been put on that morning, now his tie was decorating the back seat of his SUV, his collar was undone and his sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He was too warm, felt too clammy, and was too pissed off. His body radiated his emotions; tense, shoulder hunched and teeth clenched together. He was almost at the end of a long investigation; except the prize was just not quite in reach yet.
Sitting down, or rather pacing the room, with Cullen and Jake Laherne - another agent who was working in the case - had highlighted several more events that had made Peter Wheeler look even more the man they wanted. Laherne had looked into the deaths of his wife and son, and found that there had been no record of them ever actually having disappeared. Wheeler had been living in Louisiana fifteen years ago, then had abruptly left the house that he rented and abandoned his job and moved, taking the post at Greenhold. From what a neighbour in Louisiana had said his wife and son had gone with him, although there was no record of them ever having moved to Washington. The whole 'plane crash in Arizona' had just been a lie, one which seemed to have bought Wheeler sympathy, friends and a lack of questions.
Now those questions were being asked.
"The phone calls bother me," Cullen said, tapping a biro on his chin, leaving a little trace of black ink. "He's called us twice to let us know that a body has been left, so he's wanted us to chase him. Now he's teasing us and threatening to disappear."
"He likes being chased," Booth said from the point he had paced to. It's the whole thrill of the chase for him, or it is now. Maybe he's pissed that he's never gets thought as being intelligent and this is one way he can prove it."
He had heard Brennan sigh deeply, and had known that she would not be amused with all of the psycho babble that was being thrown around the room.
"We're still missing the clothes off both of his victims," she interrupted. Booth saw Cullen glare at her. "Can't we begin by searching his property for the belongings of Patrick and Thomas. If we can find something pertaining to them then at least we will be able to bring him in."
Booth pulled a face and nodded, his expression telling her that he agreed with what she had said. Cullen sighed. "That's going to have to be where we start," he gave his approval.
"What about a warrant?" Laherne asked.
"You try Judge Deakin," Cullen told him. "We have no clear evidence, he may be awkward so you'll have to use what charm you have." Laherne grinned. "Booth, you and the scientist lady can go and see what you can get out of Wheeler without a warrant, we can't waste time waiting. If he disappears I imagine he's got the intelligence to seeming fly of the face of the earth."
Booth nodded. "It will be my pleasure," he felt a searing stab of annoyance and anger shoot through him. He wanted this guy. He knew he was the type to have no regard for life, even the life of children. When he had interviewed him this afternoon he had seen a complete lack of concern in Wheeler's eyes; the only thing he had been worried about was the possibility of being caught; but with no certain time of death of the two boys and nothing concrete to link him, Wheeler had known he was pretty much safe.
Bones already had hold of her bag and was standing, waiting for him to go. He looked at her, aware that Cullen and Laherne were now poring over a few sheets of paper on Cullen's desk and wouldn't pick up on the stare he was now giving her. She looked tired and drawn, her face paler than normal and her eyes lacked their usual gleam. Hopefully, by the end of tomorrow all of this would be over and they would have caught the perpetrator and be able to resume normality, until the next time.
It would also give them a chance to decipher what had gone on between them. Bones' blue eyes met his and he wondered if her thoughts were the same as what he was having, or whether she had buried what feelings she had and was conveniently ignoring them.
He followed her outside; the dim light fading gracefully from the evening sky, leaving a warm blanket of air bathing them. He glanced up at the sky, the red on the clouds beginning to disappear and melt into the forthcoming darkness. It was peaceful and quiet, contrasting sharply with the rage within him. His pace quickened, wanting to get to his car and speed over to Peter Wheeler's house. He could hear Bones behind him, just about keeping up.
"Booth!" He heard her call. "You need to slow down."
He stopped and let her catch up although she was only a couple of footsteps behind him.
"You can't go in there in this mood, you'll end up getting yourself into trouble," she said, concern in her eyes. He knew she understood him well enough to sense the mood he was in.
"This guy's slippy, Bones. He's gonna get away," he responded. She caught hold of his shirt and tugged it toward her. His body responded to her close proximity and he felt heated up in a different way than before.
"Booth, there are ways to handle this, and you getting all firey and annoyed is not one of them. I know what he's done is despicable, but you cannot go barging into his house; any evidence you might find would be insubmissable in court. Let's just see if we can get inside his home, if he lets us, and see what's there until we get a warrant," she reasoned. Distracted by the slight touch of her fingers against his chest he nodded, and slowed his pace as they got to the car.
She jumped into the passenger seat, clutching onto the door handle, obviously worried that his state of mind might tell on his driving. He laughed wryly.
"Come on, Bones. You know well enough by now that I'm a safe driver," he said, a little concerned that he had made her worried so.
"I don't think I've ever seen you this pent up with aggression before," she replied, still clinging on.
Booth shrugged. "Maybe not," he admitted. "But my driving is always safe, so you can let go." She didn't and he tried his best to relax, but Wheeler's face kept encroaching into his mind, his weasel like looks imprinted on his brain along with his sneering, complacent look that Booth wanted to take a scrubbing brush to and rub away.
He knew it was Wheeler; he had had an inkling ever since he had seen the man take the roll call in Mrs Sanderson's classroom the first day they had been to the school. The man just had something about him that didn't sit right with Booth; his intuition was telling him that Wheeler was not a man to be trusted. He had obviously taken the cleaning fluid when he had accepted the delivery, and had gotten the poison from the old school stocks, as it looked as if Phil hadn't regulated what had been there and what hadn't.
Wheeler would also have had to have gotten in to the school. Clearly he had used the shed in the courtyard as a place to hide the children, as well as the hut by the river. Unfortunately, they hadn't lifted any prints that could tie Wheeler to the places; else the warrant would already be in his hand. Wheeler was smart, but even smart people made mistakes, and that was what Booth was hoping for; a mistake.
He pulled up at Wheeler's address, noticing that the lights were on. He was in. That was good. As of yet he hadn't disappeared, but why would he want to? He knew they had noting concrete on him, until they did he was better sitting tight and watching the melee around him, which, Booth knew, was exactly what he was enjoying. But something still wasn't sitting right. They had most of the pieces of the jigsaw, there were just a few crucial ones missing.
Bones followed him to the door, standing next to him as he knocked. He saw a face appear at the window and look out on them, a calm, composed expression sitting on his features. Booth resisted the temptation to put his fist through the window and smack him hard.
The door opened slightly and Wheeler looked round it, not opening it the full way.
"Good evening Agent Booth, Dr Brennan. What brings you here at this time? I would have thought you'd have been enjoying a nice dinner somewhere," Wheeler said in a tone that aggravated Booth further.
"We're wanting to get the person who murdered two boys and traumatised another before he can do it again," Booth growled.
"I doubt they were traumatised," Wheeler said calmly. "I heard that David was unconscious for most of it and didn't even remember who had taken him," his voice was calm and almost unexpressive.
"And how did you know that?" Booth asked, hands coming out of pockets and being held clenched by his sides.
"You know, the staff room conversations yesterday kind of stayed around what had happened," he shrugged with a smile.
"Any other conversations that might have given out information?" Booth pushed, irritation in his voice.
"No, I don't think so," Wheeler shook his head.
"May we come in?" Bones stepped forward a little.
"I don't think so," Wheeler answered, closer the door a little further.
"Something to hide?" Booth asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"Not at all, Agent Booth. After all, if I really did have something to hide then you'd have a warrant," Wheeler smiled at him.
Booth felt more and more agitated. "We both know that you have something to do with this, Mr Wheeler, it's just a matter of time," he threatened.
"Maybe so, Agent Booth, but we'll have to wait until then," he looked at them both. "And you might not want to take too long over it as I don't know how long I'll be staying around for." He smiled at Bones and Booth wanted to knock his head off for even looking at her.
"Dr. Brennan, may I say just how much I adore your writing. Do you base Andrew Ryan on Agent Booth, or is he a figment of your imagination?" Wheeler asked, blankly ignoring Booth.
Booth looked at Bones. He had asked that question before. He wanted to see what answer she gave Wheeler and whether it would differ.
"All of the events and characters in my book are purely fictional," she said, confusion in her voice as to why he was asking questions like that when he was basically being told that he was the main suspect in a murder inquiry.
Wheeler nodded. "Next time you're here I'll ask you to sign the books I have of yours – and I have to say, Dr Brennan, your author photo does not do you justice!"
Booth felt his fist clench tighter and his face turn into a scowl. He noticed a quick glance from Bones, telling him that she was aware of what he was feeling.
"You know, Mr Wheeler, we could really do with a coffee, and I could sign those books for you now if you'd like," she tried to persuade him to let them in.
Wheeler laughed. "I'm really not that stupid. Good luck with your warrant," he closed the door with a bang and went to stand at the window, watching them, a small, curious smile on his face.
Booth turned round and walked to the car, every muscle tightened and on edge. He could feel Bones behind him, keeping a distance. When they were out of sight of Wheeler he turned and kicked an empty flattened can that had been left in the road and crushed by the cars.
He got into the car, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and dialling Cullen. No answer came, just a long ring that eventually went to his answer phone.
Bones sat beside him, watching him intently. "Cullen?" She asked.
Booth nodded, folding the phone, his frustration growing. "No answer. He must be with the judge. I'll go to him and see what what's going on. We need to get in that house."
Bones nodded. "Drop me off at the lab, there's a few things I want to look over again," she instructed. Booth nodded. Frustration and annoyance had robbed him of any ability to speak right now.
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Booth dropped her at the lab, and she knew he was watching her back as she walked the short distance into the Jeffersonian from where he had pulled up. He worried her when he was like this. He seemed uncontrollable and a little untamed. A part of it she found herself attracted to, and she half wondered where that pent up energy would end up.
They were both strung out, a phrase she had heard Angela use, and now seemed to sum up how they felt. They had almost hit a brick wall. She went to the locker where Patrick's body was and pulled the tray out. Pulling on her lab coat and latex gloves she began to study the body, this time not looking so much at the bones but the other trace evidence that was attached to them. She knew that a thorough job had already been made, but even the most expert of professionals could miss something.
The silence of the lab focused her concentration. She leant close to the bones, eyeing each inch with intensity she had never used before. In a small patch of skin where the left acromioclavicular was she spotted a tiny fibre. Picking up a pair of tweezers, she plucked it from its sticky home and took it over to her microscope that Zack had thankfully forgotten to put away.
Placing it on a slide, she studied it, noticing it was pink, and, although this wasn't her expertise, it seemed to be wool. She removed the slide carefully, bagging it up and taking it with her to the telephone.
Dialling quickly, she was thankful to hear a familiar voice at the end of the line.
"Habalov," the calm voice answered and Brennan was thankful that she was not the only female scientist to be obsessed with her job.
"Raisa, it's Tempe," she said quickly. "I've a fibre that needs checking now. From what I can tell it's pink and possibly wool."
"I'll have Andrew come over for it. Is it to do with this missing boy case?" Raisa asked.
"Yes – how quick?"
"Give me ninety minutes," Raisa answered.
"Thank you," Booth said before replacing the receiver. She doubted that Peter Wheeler wore anything woollen and pink, and neither had the three boys who had been taken by him. It was possible that it was from an as yet undiscovered victim, or it had just been picked up randomly. This last part she had reservations about. The body had been washed in cleaning fluid for long enough and it had been strong enough to burn away at the skin. She hadn't heard yet, but she imagined that the remains of the two boys' skin would be found under the shed where David had been found, or even within the overgrown courtyard. The fibre was recent, and it had not come off the blankets that had been used to dump the bodies in.
A bell sounded, and she picked up the evidence bag and spotted Andrew hanging around at the entrance to the lab. He was Raisa's assistant in the same way Zack was hers and she had often found him lurking in her lab trying to catch Angela's attention. She handed it to him with a few words of thanks and made her way back top Patrick's remains. She studied it further, losing herself in scanning for further fibres.
She heard footsteps behind her, not trying to be silent or disguise themselves in any way. She recognised them immediately and span round, seeing Booth with a look in his face that said they hadn't received a warrant and he needed to explode before he imploded.
"If he gets away now," Booth began to splutter. "I am personally going to put the goddamn judge in the ground alongside the two boys!"
"You didn't get a warrant?" She asked the obvious.
Booth shook his head. He was clearly on fire with his temper fuelling it. He cursed and banged the worktop with his fist, then kicked the bin over. The crash it made echoed through the empty building.
"Booth!" She shouted at him as he hit the work top again. "Seeley!" His attention was elsewhere. He stomped to Hogkins' desk and picked up a thick text book, dropping it in the floor. She walked up to him, still saying his name. Not getting any response she grabbed his arms, gripping them so he couldn't move them. She felt the tension in his veins flood round his body. Her eyes moved up to his, meeting the brown irises. She felt him freeze as he became aware of her, and then his body relaxed slightly and she loosened her grip a little. His hands moved down to her waist and gripped her tightly, his lips plundering hers with a force she had never felt before, bruising them and making them swell, invading her mouth like it was now his territory, releasing his frustration and annoyance into a kiss that consumed her with fire.
He began to move her backwards until a glass pane was behind her, not breaking the kiss or the contact. The cold of the glass seeped through her shirt and chilled her into reality, and for a second she fought with him, pushing him away.
"Bones," he uttered, his eyes opening and looking into her hers. She saw animal lust in his eyes and wondered if it was reflected in her own. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest and she began to let go, forgetting any doubts, or the repercussions that this would have. Blood pumped through the veins, the cool glass no longer felt compared with the burning heat that drowned her.
Booth's hands began to find bare skin, pulling her tucked in shirt from her trousers, his fingers pushing up her on skin. She pulled on the material of his, undoing it quickly, her own hands beginning a journey of discovery. She felt him take a sharp inhalation of air before his mouth reclaimed hers. She met his force with her own, catching him by surprise, and she turned him so their sides were now on the glass pane. One of his hands fought with the buttons on her trousers, eventually just pulling it off. His own were already undone, her fingers were nimble, as he was now discovering. She found ways to make him gasp and say her name, revelling in the power that she had over him, his anger now tamed. And then he took control, making her whimper and scream as he pleased, his hands and mouth seemingly knowing what to do without having practised on her before. She was an instrument that he had a natural talent for; that he could just pick up and play. No words were exchanged, but enough was said in the music that they composed in the night time in the empty, desolate lab.
Thankfully no one had planned to enter that part of the lab at that time of night; otherwise their eyes may have opened by the sight of Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth against a glass pane that separated part of the lab in a rather compromising position. Even more thankfully, Booth later had the sense to tidy Hodgins' desk, although the entomologist did wonder the next day why certain things were in the wrong place, but simply put it down to Goodman routing through his things in the hope of discovering enough evidence to fire him.
Once their ardour had been sated, Brennan found herself curled in the crook of Booth arm, heart still pounding slightly, listening to them sound of his rasping breath level out as his pulse rate settled.
He turned to her, and she felt his eyes pierce her skin such was the strength of his gaze. "Tempe," he whispered her first name, and a strange feeling went through her. "Tempe," he said her name again, without following it up.
"What is it, Booth?" She asked, knowing what the strange feeling was and beginning to panic. They were lying in Hodgins' floor, one of his coats pulled over them, shielding what had been complete abandonment. Her heart began to pound as she looked into Booth's eyes, understanding that the raw emotion that she saw in them was reflected in her own.
The blood that had pleasantly galloped through her veins earlier with the rush of lust and other previously unimaginable feelings now contained pure panic. She peeled Booth's arms from around her, standing up and gathering her clothes hurriedly, ignoring Booth's concerned comments, all sleepiness erased from him as he stood up and began to pull on underwear.
She refused to look at him, knowing that his eyes would be filled with concern and attachment that she did not want to see, and she could not possibly deal with them and did not want to comprehend the hurt that she knew would be there, pooling in those deep brown eyes, those deep brown eyes that she had just drowned in, barely managing to swim.
Lust had consumed her before, but never eaten her up and devoured her with such appetite, and now she knew her body and mind were craving a dessert, but one that she was forbidding herself to indulge in.
She kept her eyes away, and closed her ears, not even fastening the buttons on her shirt before running from the room. She heard Booth's feet behind her, the bare soles padding quickly along and she ran a little faster. She hoped he would understand; a one night affair she could handle, she could stand being loved like that any night, having her body blown away by him, but the aftermath had not been accounted for. She recalled the conversation they had had in Wong Foo's and felt tears pricking at he back of her eyes.
Defiantly, she held them back, the sound of bare feet on cold surface ceasing as she got toward the security at the front of the building. Ignoring the concerned looks the guards gave her she flung herself outside in the cool night air, feeling the gentle first drops of rain stroke her skin as tenderly as a lover's touch, cooling and forgiving after the rough passion of ownership and an intimacy that was all to unfamiliar to Temperance to be able to accept it with any casualness and logicality.
The rain began to fall steadily as she walked down the road to where she knew she could hail a cab, the water beginning to wet her hair and seep into her clothing, a pleasant coolness that brought her back to reality, leaving her with a feeling in the pit of her stomach that something precious had just been lost, given up to the night without a thought of how it would seem in the brilliant light of day.
Shock! Horror! Will Brennan realise that she can't possibly ignore these feelings she has for Booth? Who does the pink fibre belong to? Is the principal a murderer as well as being a fradulant, uncaring bitca (Buffy ref for all those who just think I can't spell)? Or is it someone else? Will they manage to arrest Wheeler? And will Danny Messer materialise in my bedroom right now?
All (apart from the latter) will be revealed, if you review. (I'll post the next chapter any way - prob tomorrow)
Thank you to every one who does review, you guys are the best and I'm sorry I've not had chance to reply. As for the rest of you lurkers who keep wacking up my stats, do your bit too! It's all well and good reading but I'd like an opinion, pr a hello, or a smiley, or Danny Messer... sigh
