Disclaimer- I don't own Bones.
Paris November 3rd, 2001
Monday 4:00pmSeeley dragged Temperance down a hotel corridor. Knowing he had no time to wait for an elevator opened the door to the emergency stairway and darted down jumping quickly over the small steps.
Temperance looked down at her robe flapping as she ran, exposing her upper legs. "Booth! I'm not dressed!" she yelled, huffing and puffing down the stairwell.
"I don't care, Bones! It's your fault you took a shower at a fucking crime scene!" Booth reprimanded.
Temperance was speechless. She pursed her lips, wondering what the hell had made Booth rush her off so quickly. She was confused and angry, not to mention dripping wet and practically naked.
Booth had gotten the phone call, completely oblivious to what had happened on the ground floor outside Tempe's window. An agent called him, his young voice shaking in fear, informing Booth of the twenty something bloody personnel lying on the ground outside. The agent saw an armed man walk into the hotel.
The amateur agent had just gotten back from another dead body near the Louvre, stuffed in a dumpster in a nearby ally. Booth was terrified, but not for himself. Someone had attempted to kill his partner, his girl, his Bones. And he was terrified. The FBI agent who could think on his feet in any situation, the brave Seeley Booth was terrified. It was pathetic really. Someone had killed another person and stuffed them in a dumpster next to one of the most famous museums in the cultured world. Yes, he was terrified.
They sprinted out the back door. Booth stopped so Temperance could catch her breath. "Booth, what the hell is going on!" she glared at him.
"Everyone is dead. Everyone working on the case is dead. The guy that killed them is in the hotel, with a gun. And it's not safe."
"No…" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is it every safe, Seeley?" she asked softly.
Booth was silent, hiding in his look of solemnity.
"Look… I can't do anything without shoes," Tempe said.
Fear sighed. "I wish there was something I could do, but it's dicey to go out to my car. I've got some extra boots in them, but I'm not gonna risk the run. Thank God this isn't a dead end."
"Yeah…" Tempe leaned against the door.
"We should get going," Booth said.
Behind the building, where they stood, was a back lot. It had a narrow road leading out from it, lined by a red no-parking curb. The lot was empty and surrounded by birch trees, which covered the road well. They decided to use the road as an escape route.
Booth urged her to walk quickly despite her unprotected feet. She picked her way through crunchy brown leaves and twigs as fast as she could.
They were silent along the way. The road finally ended as it intersected into a two-lane street through an alley between two brick buildings. They sped up out of the alley and found themselves in front of a small café. Knowing there might be a clothes shop somewhere close by, Seeley and Temperance turned left onto the sidewalk and continued walking.
Temperance received multiple honks and stares from obnoxious men driving on the road, catcalling her through the windows. She ignored them but her face reddened in embarrassment. Soon enough, though, they found a little boutique. Luckily, Booth had his wallet in his suit pocket to pay for jeans, a plain black long sleeved shirt, and flip-flops. She stuffed her robe into the boutique bag as they walked out of the shop.
"Thanks, Booth." She bared the slightest smile. Booth nodded in acknowledgement. Her smile disappeared. "We should get a cab. It'd be faster than walking and I still don't know where we're going."
"The Louvre. There's a body in a dumpster near there." His voice cracked a little, letting Tempe know how uneasy he was.
Temperance whistled shrilly, signaling a taxicab. It pulled in front of them. The driver rolled down the window. "À la Louvre, s'il vous plaît." To the Louvre, please.
"D'accord," the man replied. Ok. Booth opened the back door for Temperance and followed her in, closing the door. The driver drove off.
Twenty minutes later, they were still in traffic. "Merde!" the driver cursed and honked. Shit. "Allez! Allez!" Go! Go!
"Ici, monsieur. Merci," said Temperance. Here, sir. Thank you. Booth handed him fifteen euros. They got out in the middle of the street and rushed to the sidewalk. They were just a block away from the museum.
"This is where the body is supposed to be," said Booth. They walked a few meters and saw a flash of yellow in an ally. They turned into it and saw caution tape and a cadaver lying on the ground. There were people everywhere: agents interrogating witnesses, a coroner carefully placing the corpse into a body bag, and a few journalists.
Seeley and Temperance ducked under the caution tape. Tempe b-lined straight to the coroner and began talking anthropology details. Booth walked over to an FBI agent who just snapped his cell phone shut. "Bonjour," greeted Booth.
"Bonjour, monsieur. Je m'appelle Agent Jacques Hurst. Et vous?" Agent Hurst looked at Booth expectantly.
"Uh… Anglais, s'il vous plaît?" Booth requested English.
"Of course." Hurst's voice was heavily accented. "Your name, monsieur?" he asked.
"Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI. My colleague was here about an hour ago. He called me here to look things over," he explained.
"Ah and who is this colleague?"
"Agent Tom Mendelson."
"Oui, he was here not too long ago. But who is that beautiful woman you brought with you?" Hurst inquired, looking at Temperance who was briefly examining the body.
Booth followed his gaze. "That's my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan." Hurst's face lit up.
"Dr. Brennan is a genius. I read her book. C'est magnifique!"
Temperance stood up from her squatting position and heard her knees crack. She wiped her hands on her jeans and turned to Booth. He joined her, followed by Agent Hurst, who introduced himself.
He expressed his love for her book before getting to business. "Alors, I see it didn't take you too long to find the body, docteur."
"Yes, Agent Hurst. It's a fresh cadaver. Your pathologist will have no trouble in IDing it. I'd say the victim died less than twenty-four hours ago. It's a Caucasoid female. The flesh hasn't decomposed long enough to darken or lighten the skin. She looks young, probably late teens to early twenties, but it's not easy to tell. The autopsy will report cause of death and age. The coroner is taking the victim to the morgue as we speak. There's not much more I can…"
Gunshots echoed in the ally. "You think you can run away from me, pute?" Whore. "Dead end, bitch!" A tall burly man stood in the entrance to the ally with his gun in the air.
Booth located a ladder just two feet away leading to the roof of one of the building they were between. He grabbed Tempe and pushed her up. They climbed quickly, Booth covering her as they scaled the wall.
"This is for Jack!" They heard it faintly, mingling with never-ending gunshots as they ran across the rooftop, breathless and… terrified.
Washington D.C. November 14th, 2002
Thursday 9:26pm
Jack. We thought nothing of it. Jack. It echoes. We didn't realize how important that moment was until it was too late. Betrayed by death. Jack. Jack. Jack.
AN- You guys are wonderful. Thanks for the reviews. I realize that you don't really understand the point of this story. Something important was hinted in this chapter! Sorry for the long delay. Keep reviewing! Thank you.
