You guys rule! I would like to, at this moment, send out virtual gifts of chocolate to every one of you who reviewed. I've received so many bribes, I think it's my turn to return the favor. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: It doesn't change. Every time I say it, it's the same. They're not mine. I don't think even a Jeannie blink could change it. Sigh. Oh and the song made reference to in this chapter is "Ice" by Sarah McLachlan.
Ch. 11 – Undercover
Booth swallowed hard and found his mouth was suddenly abnormally dry. Brennan was standing there, near the center of the room, and every single pair of eyes in the room were on her. And Booth couldn't blame them, although he was still resisting the urge to physically remove all the other men in the room. Or cover Bones in a tablecloth. Either would work really.
He had to admit that Angela had done an amazing job on the wardrobe. It wasn't what he would have imagined was a typical stripper's outfit, but somehow it fit Brennan. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a loose bun and her make-up was darker and thicker than she usually wore it, causing her light eyes and skin to look more luminous. She was clad entirely in black. She was wearing a dress with a low V-neckline, overtop of which was a low-cut blazer. The dress ended at least two inches above her knees leaving an expanse of leg, covered by black nylons, exposed. But perhaps the most alluring part of her outfit was the stiletto boots that shod her feet. They reached an inch below her knee and made her already long legs appear that much longer. A voice suddenly spoke in his ear.
"Booth, did Brennan just walk in?" Angela asked.
"Yes," he answered in a low voice.
"How's she look?"
"Good… uh… she looks… really good."
Angela smiled at how flustered the FBI agent sounded. She'd made sure that Brennan would be the sexiest she had ever looked that night, if only because one Seeley Booth would also be present. The more help she could give her favorite non-couple to become a couple, the better. Catching sight of Clark out of the corner of her eye, her smile turned into a frown. After over two hours in the cramped support van with the man, she now understood exactly why Booth disliked him so much. He was insufferable. Her inner ranting was interrupted when Brennan's voice floated over the speakers.
"I don't think I can do this."
It was Brennan's voice in his ear. He focused on her face and realized that her lips weren't moving while she spoke. Who would have thought that ventriloquism was one of her many talents.
"Sweetie, of course you can do this. You're just playing a part. It's like a play. Just pretend you're in your high school drama class," Angela said reassuringly.
"I didn't take drama in high school. I did an independent study on the development of the use of corn and maize in Argentina during the nineteenth century instead."
"Of course you did," the artist said with a sigh.
"Angela, now is not the time to lecture me on my lack of social skills and all of the elements that I missed growing up. These men are staring at me and they expect me to do something. I'm pretty sure the charm of this outfit is only going to last so long."
"Right, ok. Sweetie, listen to me, what you need to do is ignore everyone in that room. Pretend none of them are there. Just imagine that you're at home, in your bedroom, performing a striptease for this amazing man that you've met. Can you do that?"
"I think so."
Booth listened to the conversation going on in his right ear and watched in amazement as Brennan's posture changed from one of uncertainty to utter confidence as Angela spoke to her. He almost started in surprise when her lips moved again but realized that she was speaking to one of the frat boys who was standing just to her left. He watched as she handed him a CD and murmured a few instructions, which were fed through his earpiece, but he didn't comprehend them. He was enthralled with the way her hips swayed as she sauntered into the center of room.
Someone dimmed the lights slightly on the sides of the room and left the area where Brennan was standing brighter, creating a stage-like effect. No one stood between Booth and the forensic anthropologist, leaving his view unimpeded. Waiting for her music, Brennan's eyes scanned the crowded room and suddenly locked with the dark brown depths belonging to her partner.
Booth watched in awe as a seductive haze suddenly appeared in Brennan's eyes. The music suddenly flooded out of the speakers, the soft strains of an acoustic guitar filled the room and then the light, ethereal voice of a woman began to sing. The only words he understood were "The ice is thin, come on dive in" before he was lost in Brennan's every move.
She rolled her head back slightly and reached up to release her hair, which fell down in wild waves that framed her face. When she brought her head back to its former position she again locked eyes with Booth and didn't break away from his gaze. The blazer was removed next, slowly sliding down her arms to the floor, revealing the thin straps of the dress that contrasted with the white expanse of her skin.
Booth felt a flush rush up his neck and across his face as Brennan took a step forward and artfully arched backwards as she reached with her right hand to undo the zipper on her back. The moment was coming closer when Brennan would be standing there… It happened. In the blink of an eye, the dress had hit the floor leaving Brennan standing there in a set of black lace underwear. Booth felt every man in the room breathe a sigh of appreciation at the sight of the garters holding up Brennan's nylons, her legs appearing even longer than before.
Suddenly a drumbeat sounded through the room and Brennan stepped forward with a steady step and suddenly she was stalking her way towards him, planting each foot at the solid thud of the drum. Before Booth truly understood what was happening, Brennan was standing before him. Booth was suddenly grateful to be sitting down because he was certain parts of his anatomy would have been noticeably visible had he been standing. Attempting to stop the torrent of inappropriate thoughts racing through his brain, he attempted to think about his partner in a purely professional fashion. Really she was wearing the equivalent of a bikini, in fact there was even more clothes involved. Nothing out of the ordinary. No reason to be excited. No reason to want to blindfold every other man in the room. No need to whisk Brennan away and say to hell to the serial killer that was most likely waiting for her out there. His rationalizations were working… until Brennan bent down, rested her palms on his thighs and began to sway and bend in a way he found indescribably sexy.
All of the air rushed out of his lungs and he had to think hard as to how to inhale. He was lost in the smoky gaze of his partner who was well on her way to seducing him. And suddenly she winked. That wink. It was supposed to mean something. Something important. He was supposed to do something. Suddenly she was inside his head, speaking and he realized that his earpiece was picking up her voice although her lips remained stationary.
"Booth, you really need to break that rule now."
Booth caught himself before he nodded and suddenly reached out a hand that trembled only slightly and using only one finger, traced a faint line down her chest towards her belly button. The next few moments were a flurry of activity as Brennan slapped his hand away and then slapped him. He watched in fascination as she loudly proclaimed that she was ending this performance. The rules had been broken. She was under no obligation to stay. Several of the men in his vicinity shot him dirty looks and a general grumbling could be heard about the aborted end to Brennan's dance. Alex/Andrew appeared at Brennan's side, her discarded clothing in his hand, and he escorted her back upstairs, much to Booth's relief. His restraint would not have lasted much longer.
Angela's voice echoed in his ear, "Is it over?"
"Yes," Booth and Brennan answered simultaneously with a sound of relief in their voices.
"Alright, Temperance," Clark chimed in, "you know what to do now, right?"
"I'm going to get dressed. Then I'm going to call a cab."
"Good, let me know…"
Booth was suddenly unable to hear anything from his earpiece. Someone had decided to crank up the stereo and the bass was suddenly thumping, causing his seat to vibrate. He turned to Mark who shrugged in apology and headed off to find the offender.
Angela started at the loud music flooding in from Booth's mic and then stared in surprise when Clark suddenly cut off the connection to both Booth's mic and earpiece.
"What did you do that for?" she asked accusingly.
"It would have caused some painful feedback. I'll turn it back on in a couple minutes, and see if it isn't so loud."
Angela glared at the agent suspiciously but was prevented from asking more questions when Brennan's voice filled the van.
"Ok, I'm dressed again and I called the cab a couple minutes ago. What should I do now?"
"Wait two minutes and then leave," Clark answered.
"And Booth will be right behind me?" Brennan asked uncertainly.
"Right behind you. I'll tell him to leave in just a sec," Clark said firmly.
Angela was mentally picturing all of the things she would love to do to Clark that could possibly cause him pain and missed his latest lie when her cell phone rang. Clark glared at her and she matched him with one of equal intensity.
"I'll answer it outside," she said shortly, sliding the van door open and stepping out into the fresh evening air. Clark slammed the door closed behind her.
Brennan checked her watch for the thirtieth time that evening and found that the two minutes that Clark had set out for her had finally elapsed. Taking a deep breath, she waved goodbye to Alex, the fraternity member who had escorted her through the house, and stepped out into the dark, quiet street. As she walked down the sidewalk, her heels clicked solidly against the pavement, the only sound in the still night. She was slightly unnerved by the silence in her earpiece. Booth should have said something since she left the basement but except for a brief snippet of loud music, she'd heard absolutely nothing from him. And after the ringing of what she imagined to be a cell phone, she'd heard nothing from the support van either. The lack of voices made her feel alone and she was suddenly jittery and skittish. Despite the fact that she knew she could handle anything that might come her way that night, waiting for the first blow to fall out of nowhere made her undeniably anxious. She suddenly wished that Booth wasn't so far behind her. Five minutes was a long time.
Angela slid the door back open with a bang.
"We have a problem," she announced.
Clark turned to face her and quirked an eyebrow, "What, you broke a nail?"
"No you idiot, Hodgins… hang on a sec, is Booth's mike and earpiece still off?"
Clark turned back to the panel of computers, knobs and switches laid out before him. With a grimace he realized he'd forgotten to flip Booth's equipment back on and did so now. Booth's voice, laced with panic, flooded the van and poured out the still open door.
"Clark, can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear. We had some technical difficulties for a few minutes but everything's back to normal now," Clark said.
"Where's Bones?" Booth asked, the panic still audible.
"She left the house…" Clark checked his watch, "ten minutes ago."
Booth swore under his breath. Brennan was further ahead of him than they'd planned. He strode out of the frat house and into the street, following the same route she had taken, his heart beating fast and he barely managed to keep himself from running. As he strode down the street, he heard a brief groan in his earpiece.
"Bones?"
"It wasn't me."
Clark's voice sounded out clearly, "Son of a bitch! You punched me!"
Booth realized quickly that Angela must have struck the FBI agent and that meant that she was truly pissed.
"Ange, what's going on?" Booth asked.
"He deserved it. He turned off your mike and earpiece before and now Temperance is much further ahead of you than she should be. But that's not important. Jack just called."
"Did the botanist identify the compound?" Brennan asked.
"Yes, she said it's derived from the Cicatrix acerbitas which is an indigenous plant in Uruguay."
At the Latin name of the plant, Brennan felt her insides tighten. This was far worse than they'd originally thought. She'd seen what the serum created from that plant could do and she suddenly knew that she was in far over her head.
"And what does this magical plant do?" Booth asked impatiently.
"The plant itself does nothing," Angela answered, "but when it's mashed up and boiled in fat it forms a serum that induces temporary paralysis."
"Paralysis? And this was found in Carrie Matthews' muscle biopsies?"
"Yes," Angela replied.
"Hang on. Does that mean that…"
Brennan suddenly lost all track of the conversation going on in her right ear when she heard a high whistling sound and then felt something prick the flesh of her left shoulder blade. Seconds later, it began to go numb. She quickly began to lose sensation in her arm and felt the numbing effect spread across her body. She knew that in a matter of seconds she'd be unable to stand, let alone throw a punch. Knowing that the perpetrator was in the near vicinity she again used her talent of ventriloquism.
"Guys, we have a problem," Brennan's soft voice practically whispered in Booth's ear.
"What?" he asked, the panic he'd just managed to quell rising up again.
"I think I was just hit by a dart. I can't move my arms and my legs are going numb."
Fear shot through Booth like a thunderbolt and he quickly realized that every nightmare he'd had about this scenario was quickly becoming a reality. Brennan was alone and defenseless with a serial killer waiting nearby.
He began to run down the street, his arms and legs pumping through the air. Brennan needed him. Temperance needed him. His Bones needed him. Now.
Brennan heard more than felt herself fall to the ground. At some point she'd become resigned to what was about to happen to her. Perhaps it was the serum that had initiated this sudden disconnection between her mind and her body but she found herself staring up in curiosity and not fear, waiting for a killer to scoop her up.
Booth was running like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. He knew somehow that if something happened to Bones that his entire existence would never be the same. His earpiece picked up the sound of her body hitting the ground. It cut to his heart and he knew that she was lying ahead of him utterly helpless, alone, and most likely afraid, although she'd never admit it. He ran faster.
Brennan's view of the hazy sky was suddenly blocked by a dark, hooded figure.
"I've been waiting for you," it said in a low, masculine voice.
I am the queen of cruel cliffhanger endings. And very proud of it. So what did you think? Loved it? Hated it? Want to help break the 200 mark for reviews? Want to make suggestions for the dramatic things to come? To do any or all of the above you know what button to push.
