Chapter 6: Philadelphia

Booth watches as Bones and the other woman tend to the guy on the floor. Bones has the situation well in hand, and Dizzy seems to be fine with the two latecomers presence, so Booth goes back to checking out the window.

"What do you think, Diz? They didn't seem professional."

"Doubt they were, Seel. This is West Philly. The Fresh Prince might have got out, but we still got a decent number of bangers in the neighborhood."

"Why would bangers be shooting at us?"

"Not you necessarily. Me. They all know I help out with kids in the neighborhood, try to get 'em 'fore the gangs do. Both you and Detective Beckett over there scream cop. Pre-emptive strike is what I'm guessing."

At hearing the name 'Detective Beckett,' the tall woman looks up, makes eye contact, and then returns to her wounded partner. Booth grimaces for a second - so he'd been pointing his gun at a cop. Great.

After shaking their tail in Maryland, Booth had decided he needed intel in addition to a safe haven, so they'd spent the day driving to Philadelphia and the home of Sgt. Stephen "Dizzy" Dwzytowski, another ex-member of The Program, and one who might have his ears closer to the ground than Booth. But two minutes after they showed up at his door, the tall woman and the overly well-dressed manboy had shown up, quickly followed by gunfire. Booth took all that as fair reason to be a bit paranoid.

Still - not the best way to get off on a professional footing.

"Are those guys coming back?" She - Detective Beckett apparently - asks.

"I don't think so. Seeley here got one of 'em before they peeled out in a hurry. How's your boy?"

She looks back at Bones and the guy on the floor. "Your..." she starts, and looks from Brennan to Booth.

"...partner … Dr. Temperance Brennan..." Booth supplies.

"Your Doctor Brennan says it's a through and through. He's had worse, but we've had a rough few days. We need a place … a bed … or something where we can work on him?"

Dizzy jumps at that. "Come on little lady, I gotta guest room back here," he says, leading them towards the back. "Seel', I think we're on liftin' duty."

At Bones' direction, he gets the shoulders and Dizzy the feet, and together they haul Detective Beckett's partner back to the twin bed in the guest room. After he is deposited and Bones starts dressing his wounds, Booth decides it is time to get some answers.

"Okay, so who are you two?"

"I could ask the same," Detective Beckett replies, but is interrupted by Bones.

"This is Richard Castle. He's an author. He works with Detective Beckett at the NYPD."

"You're a fan," Beckett says with resignation.

"Richard and I share the same movie agent," Bones says, "Booth, hand me that pair of scissors."

Booth does as she's asked, and seeing the look of confusion on Beckett's face, he continues, "Bones … Dr. Brennan ... here is an author too."

"Oh, I thought I recognized … you write the Kathy Reichs books."

"I would not categorize them thusly, but yes, you are essentially correct. And this is my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI. I mean my work partner. He's my sexual partner as well, but I suspect you are more concerned with our professional relationship at this juncture."

Booth clamps down on his desire to shush Bones. He knew what he was getting into when he started sleeping with her, and besides, she is busy trying to sew the author's arm back together. And given the way the Detective is holding Richard's hand, he suspects the more than partners situation isn't all that foreign to them either. Not that that helps him figure out how to get control of the situation again.

"Not a bad little field dressing, little lady, but I think we should call the cops and..."

"No!" Booth says immediately, realizing a split second later that Bones, the Detective, and even the author have all chimed in with him.

"I'm guessin' that's a no, then. Good to see you awake, Mr. Castle."

"Ugh, I passed out?"

"You were shot in the shoulder," Beckett answers him. "It was a clean shot, in and out."

"A through and through? Awesome, I always wanted one of those."

"Yeah, well, when it aches like hell tomorrow, you may change your mind," Beckett says. Booth wonders if he is the only one who sees her eyeroll.

"Bracken?" Richard asks, sitting up. Booth wonders what the hell that means.

"Some local gangbangers, it seems, with a grudge against Sergeant Dwzytowski."

"Well, it's Father Dwzytowski now, though most people still call me Dizzy, and it ain't so much a grudge against me … well, nevermind. Whatever troubles you're bringing with you, those guys ain't part of it."

Richard rubs his head. "How the hell did we get in a situation where we need notecards to keep track of all the people shooting at us?"

Booth says nothing, but he has to agree. "More importantly, what the hell trouble did you bring down on us?" He asks instead.

"Seel... calm the hell down. They're my guests, same as you."

Booth grits his teeth. Being chased by an expert sniper should allow for some latitude in politeness. But Dizzy, if he sees Booth's expression, doesn't care.

"Mr. Castle, are you up to joining us in the kitchen? If we're headed for the double round of storytime that I'm expectin', I'm betting we could all use a stiff cup of coffee."

"Am I going to get shot at again if I move?" Booth notices that Castle is directing the question at him, but it is Bones who answers.

"Sorry Richard, we've had a difficult twenty four hours. Booth won't actually shoot someone unless they require shooting."

Booth wonders if he and Bones have the same requirements when it comes to shooting someone before remembering the time she shot him. He shakes off the thought. Dizz is right; it is time for coffee.

A/N: Sorry for the shorter update. I'm getting close to having this whole thing plotted at least...