Disclaimer: Anybody who would like to give me enough money so I can buy Bones, let me know.
I spent several days in Old Town Alexandria earlier this year, so the descriptions of the downtown area are fairly accurate. However, for the residential area I describe, I'm totally making stuff up here. Sorry if it's way off.
Only another chapter or two left to go on this story.
As always, thanks to the ever helpful FauxMaven for beta'ing this chapter.
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Lying on her side in bed, Brennan watched the rise and fall of Booth's chest. The early morning light filtering through the ivory curtains lent a pale yellow sheen to his skin. Her gaze followed the ridges of his rectus abdominis muscles and his linea alba. She knew the biological mechanisms that caused her arousal at seeing his clearly fit and toned body, but still marveled at the strength of those feelings. She reached out and danced her fingertips along his sinewy arm, the name of each muscle involuntarily popping into her head as she touched him.
When she thought of the intimacy they had shared the night before her mind shied away from using the clinical terms for sex that she was used to. With all of her previous boyfriends, Sully included, she hadn't found any problem with referring to their activities as just sex. Things were different with Booth. His technical skill was considerable, but he also left her feeling emotionally satisfied, something she hadn't realized she had been missing with previous lovers. She abhorred the idea of using the word lovemaking, whether to herself or to Booth; lovemaking conjured up imaged of trashy romance novels and lonely women. But try as she might, she couldn't think of a word that more accurately described what they had shared.
Brennan delicately laid her arm across his chest, her fingers tracing his deltoid and trapezius muscles, dipping into the hollow of his clavicle. He groaned in what she thought was pleasure, but she was startled when he abruptly rolled away from her. She stared at his back, struggling to dismiss the hurt rising within her. Booth flopped onto his back with a huff and then another moan. Moving to touch his chest once again, to rouse him, she hesitated when his leg kicked out across the bed. Brennan frowned. When he started muttering and flung an arm up to cover his face, she grasped his forearm and shook him lightly.
"Booth. Wake up," she urged.
Suddenly sitting upright in bed, he shoved the sheet off his legs, almost frantic in his thrashing. She touched his arm again and he looked at her, confusion roiling in his eyes. He blinked once, twice, then a flush crept up his neck. He turned away from her, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, hunching his back. Staring at his muscular back and tensed shoulders, she hesitated.
"Sorry," he whispered.
After a beat, she asked, "Were you dreaming?"
He shrugged his shoulders. She gently touched her fingertips to his back, gradually pressing her palms to his skin. Sliding her hands up along his spine, then along each of his shoulders and back down his sides to begin again at the small of his back, she rubbed him, trying to soothe him as best she could.
After a moment, he shifted on the bed so he was closer to facing her. He gave her a sheepish, apologetic look. "Sorry," he said again.
"Don't be sorry," she chastised him. "Between the lingering effects of the psychotropic drug and the emotional and mental stress of what you went through, it's not surprising that you'd have bad dreams."
He shrugged his shoulders again, his cheeks still tinged with pink. Tugging on his arm, Brennan pulled him back down into bed and he drew her into his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder and she pressed her lips to the firm skin of his neck. They lay still, savoring the closeness they had denied themselves for so long, but also contemplating the difficulties this case was causing
"I'm sorry for making things harder for us," he mumbled.
"Booth, for the last time, you didn't ask to get poisoned," she sighed.
"No, I meant for us, uh, personally. You said in the hospital that you thought I was choosing to make things hard, and you're probably right. Now that you're here," he tightened his arms around her, "I can't believe I was such an idiot about, you know, lines you can't cross and people you can't just sleep with."
Smiling into his shoulder, she gave him a squeeze around his middle. She didn't know whether it was Angela or Dr. Wyatt or this craziness in the woods, but for whatever made him change his mind and take a chance, she was grateful.
"And just so you know, I am really very sorry for throwing up on you."
She laughed. They settled into a more comfortable silence, Brennan focusing on the way his hand rubbed circles on her lower back while his other hand twirled strands of her hair. When she felt him shift next to her, she spoke.
"What are our plans for today?" she asked.
"You mean, apart from staying in bed and doing terribly naughty things to you all day?" His chuckle rumbled from within his chest.
"Oh, so did you solve the case while I was sleeping?"
"Sure did. The guy's in jail already, the trial was at 3am, it's too bad you missed it."
Brennan laughed and prodded him in the side.
"Okay, okay," he conceded. "We've got to check out that store downtown where the suspect bought that book. Wanna come along?"
"Sure. You might have to let go of me so I can shower and get dressed, though."
Booth pulled back from her, giving her an admiring once-over. "I think you look great as is."
Giving him a quick smooch, she told him, "Just because you like me naked doesn't mean everyone else will."
"I don't know, Bones, you've got a pretty good body," he grinned. "But you bring up a good point, I don't think I want other guys seeing you naked."
Brennan rolled her eyes at him. "You're so possessive."
He nodded vigorously then kissed her nose. "Mine," he said, then brushed his lips across hers. "Mine," he repeated. He bent his head and left a trail of kisses along her jaw and down her neck, to the tops of her breasts, murmuring "Mine" as he went. He flicked his tongue across her nipple, then took it into his mouth, sucking firmly. When he let go, he looked up at her, and with a lopsided grin, said, "Most definitely mine."
Shaking her head at him with a mock frown, she told him, "You're incorrigible."
"Yeah, I know." Booth sat up abruptly. "So, care to join me in the shower?"
"I don't know, aren't we trying to get out of here?"
Booth waggled a finger at her. "Just 'cause you have a dirty mind, doesn't mean that the shower has to take longer if we're both in it."
She smirked. "Alright, but if you try anything, I'm going to have to kick you out."
"Hey, you're joining me, if anyone's getting kicked out, it's you," he laughed as they both got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom.
"Yeah, but it's my shower," she explained.
"Ha! Look who's possessive now," he said, smacking her lightly on the ass.
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Booth pulled his SUV to the curb in front of a long row of shops a little later than they had been planning. Brennan peered out her window at the flowery sign above the storefront bearing the name "Ceridwen's Closet." Booth got out of the car and walked around to her side to open the door for her. Normally she would have gotten out before he had the chance, but she decided to acquiesce to his chivalry.
"Thank you," she murmured, and he smiled broadly in return.
Stepping onto the curb, she looked in the windows of the shop. The displays held a wide assortment of wares, from books and CDs to staffs and crystals. Her gaze fell on a glazed stoneware chalice. It had been left its natural rusty brown color, though a Celtic cross had been etched into the cup. She nudged Booth and pointed to the chalice.
"That looks just like the one we found in the storage space," he muttered.
She nodded in reply and they entered the shop. The scent of sandalwood washed over her as she scanned the inside of the store. Along the front wall were several bookcases overflowing with a wide range of books. To her right were long tables filled with displays of semi-precious stones, crystals, and packets of incense. The back of the store was set up with makeshift dressing rooms and racks of medieval-styled clothing, which apparently were only made in velvet or brocade fabrics. The wall to her left held an enormous pegboard and hundreds of little bags of dried herbs.
Booth walked up to the glass counter filling the middle of the shop and smiled politely at the woman standing at the cash register. Her long, honey blond hair was braided into a single plait and her face was open and friendly. Booth pulled out his badge and laid it on the counter.
"Good morning, ma'am. I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, and this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan." He indicated her with a nod of his head. "Could we speak with the manager, please?"
A flash of alarm passed over the woman's face. "This is my shop, I'm the owner. What can I do for you?"
"We're investigating a death, Miss...?" he trailed off, waiting for her to fill in her name.
"Alicia Balch. Mrs." she added.
Booth nodded at her and smiled. "Mrs. Balch. Do you sell any books on vampyrism?"
"Um, sure. Well, I don't know if any are in stock right at the moment, but we do carry at least one or two titles."
From his jacket, Booth pulled out a photo of the book from the suspect's pack. "Is this one of the books?"
The woman nodded. "Yes, that's one of them."
"What can you tell us about the chalice in the window display?" Brennan questioned.
"The one with the Celtic cross?" Seeing Brennan's nod, the woman continued, "A local artisan makes those for us. They all have varying designs, some with crosses, others with goddess imagery."
Booth nodded to Brennan and she reached into her bag, taking out Angela's enhanced version of the suspect's false driver's license. She set it on the counter, facing the shop owner.
"Have you ever seen this man before?" he asked casually, though his gaze was attentively focused on the woman's face.
Mrs. Balch picked up the photograph, bringing it closer for a better look. She inspected the man's face, frowning. Abruptly, she set the picture back down on the counter.
"No, he doesn't look familiar."
Booth raised his eyebrows at the woman. "Are you sure? We found a book in his possession, with a price tag from this store on it."
The woman shook her head. "You know, I'm not here all the time, he could have come in while one of my employees was here."
"I'll need to speak with your other employees then."
Brennan moved off to look through the bags of dried herbs while Booth got the names and addresses of the other store employees. The herbs were arranged alphabetically and it didn't take her long to find several bags of Atropa belladonna. She pulled one off the rack and approached the cash register. Booth flipped close his notebook and signaled to her that they were ready to go. Setting the bag on the counter, she turned to the store owner.
"I'd like to buy this, please."
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Back in the car, Booth drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His brow was creased in what she recognized as the expression he made when things didn't quite add up.
"I don't believe her," he said.
"Mrs. Balch? What don't you believe?"
"That she didn't recognize the suspect." He turned in his seat to face her. "She's not great at acting."
Brennan pursed her lips. She hadn't noticed anything suspicious in the woman's behavior. Clearly she would take Booth's word for it, but she was dismayed at yet another example of her not having anything close to his level of intuition or ability to read people.
"What do you want to do?" she asked.
Flipping open his cell phone, Booth dialed a phone number and while it rang, winked at Brennan. After a moment, he spoke into the phone. "Hey, it's Booth. Listen, I'm going to need info on an Alicia Balch who owns a store called "Ceridwen's Closet" here in D.C. I'll take the home address now." He paused, then, "Okay. Okay, yeah. No, that's fine."
As he disconnected the call, he glanced over at Brennan. "We're heading out to Alexandria, the address is near Old Town."
"Do you think it's her husband?"
He shrugged, concentrating on pulling the SUV out into traffic. She contemplated the possibilities for a moment, then said, "If it's her husband, she's going to warn him."
With a nod, Booth turned on the siren and slowly the cars in front of them parted. Between the siren and the fact that the roads were a little clearer on Sunday mornings, they made fairly good time. As they passed the Masonic Temple, Brennan perked up. Despite the throngs of tourists, she always liked driving through the historic district, especially at night when the trees were lit up with tiny white lights. She gazed out the window, noting the names of shops and the architectural details of the buildings. Booth turned off his siren when he made a right from King Street onto South Fairfax Street.
Turning to him, she asked, "Does she live on this street?"
"Yeah. Just up here, I think."
They passed from the quaint, expensive housing into the slightly more rundown area nearer to the water. Booth squinted at the houses as he drove slowly along the street, then pulled over in front of a small, tidy-looking house. They glanced at each other before getting out of the car and Brennan forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She felt a little more anxious than normal and wondered if the feeling was a budding sense of intuition or if she was imagining things.
They approached the front door cautiously. Brennan glanced around the area several times while Booth rang the bell. After a time, it became obvious that nobody was going to answer. Leaning over the porch railing, she tried peering through the bay window to see into the living room, but the glare from the sun on the glass made it impossible. From the rear of the house came the jarring sound of metal and wood falling to the ground. Booth motioned for Brennan to go around the left side of the house while he took the right side, where the garage was located.
She moved quietly across the grass, pausing to squint through each of the windows she passed. A dog began barking somewhere, then another joined in, but thankfully there were no gunshots or shouting from Booth's side of the house. The backyard of the house was fenced in with a weathered, six-foot stockade fence. There was no gate and the yard seemed to be fully enclosed. Sighing inwardly, Brennan reached for the top of the fence and hoisted herself up, her feet scrabbling at the fence, struggling to bring herself over the top. Rough hands grasped her waist, pulling her down, and Brennan let out a shout, flailing her feet in an attempt to kick her assailant. Her heel connected and she heard a surprised exhalation of breath from behind her. She dropped to the ground, pivoting while bringing her hands up to defend herself. The sight of Booth in front of her, clutching his stomach, was definitely not what she was expecting.
"Dammit, Bones," he grunted.
"Well, that's what you get for attacking me. Are you okay?"
Booth nodded, though his eyes were still narrowed in pain.
"Why did you do that?" she asked.
Staring at her incredulously, he pointed to the sign on the fence. The sign was in the shape of a sheriff's badge and read, "Guard Dog on Duty." Brennan cringed. How had she missed that?
"What the hell? Didn't you hear the damn dogs? There are, like, four giant dogs, I don't know if they're Rottweilers or pit bulls or what, I didn't get a good enough look. Geez, " he panted, rubbing his abdomen.
The dogs were quite loud and she surmised that they were probably on the other side of the fence now. She wanted to protest that they hadn't been so close when they first started barking, but she knew better than to argue. Her face flushed in embarrassment.
"Did you see anyone?"
Booth shook his head. "If there was someone here, I'm sure the dogs gave him enough warning."
They walked around toward the front of the house, both coming to a sudden halt when the driveway came into view. A man was frantically trying to unlock a car door, his keys jangling in his fumbling hands as he muttered curses under his breath. Even though his back was turned to them, Brennan recognized him immediately.
With only a split second's hesitation, Booth drew his gun and as he brought it to bear, calmly instructing, "FBI. Stop right there and turn around."
The man tossed a hurried glance over his shoulder, his glasses glinting in the midday sun, and he bolted. In the second before Booth pursued, Brennan noticed a flash of recognition in his eyes as his expression hardened. They raced toward the suspect and arrived at the driveway just in time to see him fling open the gate to his backyard. He stumbled past the dogs who were for the moment jumping to greet him, but all too soon the dogs noticed Booth and Brennan in the driveway and four brown and black blurs pelted toward them. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the neighbor's yard where he yanked opened another gate and thrust her through, pulling it shut just in time. The gate bucked in Booth's hands as the dogs threw themselves at it, barking and yowling furiously. Brennan ran toward the back fence where another gate led into an alley, jumping here and there to see if she could spot the suspect over the fence that separated the two yards. After engaging the flimsy lock on the front gate, Booth ran after her, reaching her just as she prepared to fling open the back gate. He shot her a warning look.
"FBI first," he muttered.
He eased the gate open, cautiously glancing in both directions down the alley. In a flash he was gone, running full tilt and as Brennan plunged into the alley, she saw their quarry tugging at a gate several houses down. He was through only moments before Booth reached the opening in the fence and disappeared into the yard after him. As she ran, she heard a sickening 'thwack' and a grunt. Finally she turned the corner through the gate, finding their suspect on the ground, a thick board lying by his feet. His glasses rested crookedly on the bridge of his nose and his expansive chest heaved. Booth stood over him, looking slightly dazed, his arm pulled back, ready, waiting. When the man struggled to his feet, Booth launched his fist at the man's face, connecting solidly with his cheekbone. The man's head jerked to the side as he cried out, stumbling to his knees.
"Booth," she said simply.
He turned to look at her, the haziness slowly leaving his eyes. He nodded, then returned his attention to the suspect before him. Once the man was in handcuffs and back on his feet, Booth prodded him down the alley, through the stranger's yard, and out to their vehicle where they waited for a car to arrive to transport the suspect. Brennan eyed the redness and swelling blooming on the side of Booth's face, worrying about fractures but saying nothing until the suspect had been taken away. Finally alone and in Booth's SUV, he let her inspect his newest injury.
"What happened?"
"He hit me with that damn board," he groused.
She felt his cheek lightly, trying not to cause him any more pain. "You could have a fracture or a concussion. You definitely looked dazed back there. Let's go to the hospital."
Booth shook his head. "I'm fine. Nothing a bottle of ibuprofen won't help."
"Well, at least let me drive then."
For a moment she thought he was going to protest, but then he wordlessly got out of the car. She met him at the front of the car and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He rested his chin on her shoulder briefly, then pulled back and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. With a smile, she nudged him to the passenger side of the truck.
Brennan turned the ignition and pulled way from the curb, heading back toward the city. She glanced over at Booth, slouched in his seat, staring absentmindedly out the window. She reached over and brushed his knee with her hand, trailing her fingers upward until her hand rested on his thigh. He placed his hand on hers and when she looked his way again, she saw a faint smile tugging at his lips.