Okay holy crap! Tons of reviews! I'm totally flattered! You have no idea! Tons of alerts also, I'd really love to hear from all the silent readers out there; telling me what you liked and what you didn't is the only way I can improve.
Thanks everyone who corrected "Wick" to "Wicks," I slammed my head against a wall (figuratively) when I realized I had made such a stupid misteak (yes I spelled that incorrectly on purpose. Humor me!).
Just as a word of warning, obviously, I won't be covering every day of their year. After this chapter we will probably jump forward a few weeks or something.
Enjoy!
B&B
Day 7
B&B
The Maluku Team reached the dig-site in the late afternoon. The site was truly all it was said to be. The nearly-perfect set of inter-hominoid skeletal remains lay partially unearthed in the Indonesian mud.
After determining that the preliminary party had sufficiently secured the site, Brennan dismissed the anthropology and archeology team members, leaving the technology crew to setup the computer systems and the satellite uplink to start work immediately tomorrow morning.
Just one hundred yards from the body, were seven circular thatched huts, sans climate control, electricity, or running water. She picked the hut closest to the site, dropping her bags along the wall. The interior housed two straw sleeping pallets and two windows with a straw shade. Brennan relinquished her tight grip on her sleeping bag, causing a large thump as it hit the ground. She unrolled the clean ensemble of bag and mattress pad out, placing the two in a single mosquito-proof netted slip-screen.
An excited gasp came from the doorway. "Dr. Brennan, can I room with you?" Daisy Wick looked practically constipated with welled up excitement.
Brennan mustered a weary nod, and motioned to the vacant "bed."
"This is so awesome! Me and you, together! It's like a sleepover, but for an entire year!"
She winced at the pitch and volume of the young anthropologist's voice.
"Oh too loud?" Daisy's voice dropped significantly. "I can talk more quietly…"
"That's fine."
"Sorry, I'm just so excited to start tomorrow; I don't think I'll be able to sleep a wink!" She unpacked her things neatly. "Have you ever felt like that?"
"Yes…" Brennan smiled, recalling fond memories of digs past. "My first excavation in Brazil… I barely slept as we traveled and began preliminary examination of the remains. But after two days, the lack of sleep…" she giggled in a non-Brennan like manner, "I collapsed from exhaustion."
"Were you okay?" Daisy rushed to her side as if her mentor was presently ill.
"I am perfectly fine now," she shrugged her off. "But despite your excitement, be sure to rest; it would slow down the excavation without you."
Daisy grinned, "That's such a nice thing to say! Well, in a logical and rational sort of way…" she seemed to look out into the distance. "I'm going to explore a bit," she said without warning. "Would you like to come?"
"I'm fine thank you. I'd like to type some documents up to send out promptly after the satellite uplink is live."
"Suit yourself!" the peppy anthropologist bounced out. "One more thing…" she popped her head through the hut's entryway, "thanks for the advice."
"Anytime Ms. Wick."
Brennan pulled out her laptop, thankful that it was still charged from the flight to Jakarta. She had something very important to type out; something that couldn't wait. Of course, this document in question was not related to the excavation at all. She needed to email Booth back as soon as possible.
It was bad enough that she didn't respond right away while she had the internet connection on the plane. She just felt sucker punched at the time; it hadn't truly sunk in that she and Booth wouldn't see each other for another year.
But what to say? His email was so painfully short; she had practically nothing to respond to. She would have to talk mostly about herself and synthesize questions to ask. She could say that the team arrived safely; yes, he would enjoy knowing that she was safe. Should she describe the beauty of the Maluku Islands, or the excitement for the impending work? What about Ms. Wick, or the rest of the team? Booth only knew Daisy anyway, and the last person he would want to hear about would be a creep like Mays.
Suddenly, the image of Booth arriving on the site to shake down the arrogant Dr. Curtis Mays appeared in her mind's eye. He would threaten him to keep his grubby hands of her or… else. That though of such protection irrationally warmed her; his guardian manner towards her was simply a manifestation of caring. Could it be a demonstration of his love also?
"Dear Booth"
No, too formal.
"Seeley Booth"
No, she deleted it. She never called him 'Seeley.'
"Booth"
Simple, but effective.
The rest of the letter progressed in a manner much like this; an internal struggle on what exactly to write. Why did communication have to be so difficult?
Booth, I love you. I want to be in a romantic relationship with you. Go home now and I'll meet you there ASAP.
Brennan scowled at what she truly desired to write.
She saved the email as a draft, and shutdown before she ran completely out of battery charge.
"Isn't the sunset breathtaking?'
She jumped at the voice, looking about to discover its source. Through the window, leaned the smug looking Mays. The man really wasn't that discussing; he had acceptable BMI and decent symmetry. His jaw line, however, was extremely weak; nothing like the chiseled square features of Booth. She wasn't being biased, but a strong jaw line was a desirable trait in mates as it often pointed to higher testosterone levels.
See? Booth would be an excellent mate…
"May I come in?" he tried to flash a sultry smile, but ironically, it only repulsed her further.
"No you may not Dr. Mays," Brennan tried to make herself look busy; perhaps he could just leave.
"Please, call me Curtis," he smiled.
"That would be unprofessional," she glowered, "I am felling quite hypnagogic and am preparing to retire for the evening."
"Well…that's just perfect…"
"Oh Dr. Mays!" Daisy stepped in the nick of time. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"
"Quite," he paused, observing the two.
"Dr. Mays will be leaving now," Brennan shot her famous death-glare at the man.
A graduate student just said that the glare of an angry Dr. Brennan could peel the flesh of bones. Another student commented that this was how she was able to clean her specimens to such pristine condition. It was akin to pummeling prey with fire and ice, strike after progressive strike.
"See you bright and early Temperance."
"Don't call me Temperance, Dr. Brennan is the only acceptable denomination that I will respond to."
"You know you like it," he winked, leaving with a look over his shoulder.
"I'm just so so so tired," Daisy dropped to the sleeping bag, quickly, almost as if changing the subject.
The nature of the Brennan v. Mays interaction couldn't have possibly passed over her head, what, with her degree in psychology and her ability for anthropology.
Somehow, the young woman's rapid speech made Brennan doubt her drowsiness. She still wondered if Daisy every slept at all; this would be a perfect time to test that hypothesis.
Brennan slipped into the mosquito slip-screen and into her sleeping bag.
"Good night Dr. Brennan…"
"Good night Daisy…"
Sleep found her, the tropical air rocking her to sleep to the land of dreams.
"Booth!" she ran towards him.
He pulled her into an embrace; she reveled in the feeling of nearness.
"I missed you so much," Brennan nuzzled further into his shoulder.
"I missed you too."
"I-I wanted to say that," she said.
Suddenly, the all the color drained from his face.
"W-What's wrong?" she cradled his jaw.
Booth swallowed uncomfortably, looking down towards his stomach.
Brennan looked down; sticky red blood stained her shirt. The blood gushed from a bullet hole in his abdomen.
"I-I'll be okay," he shuddered.
She instinctively applied pressure to the wound; he winced at the pressure.
"No, you need urgent medical attention."
"I just need to sit down…" he collapsed to the floor.
"No Booth!"
"Dr. Brennan! Dr. Brennan! Wake up!" She bolted upright, smacking her head on one of the aluminum mosquito net supports.
Brennan suspired heavily with relief; it was just a dream and nothing more.
"You were screaming…I even grabbed the pamphlet that Dr. Hodgins prepared for you in case that you were attacked by fauna…"
She was still greatly perturbed by the dream, it seemed so real.
"What's wrong Dr. Brennan?"
"J-Just a nightmare, I have them occasionally. G-Go back to sleep," she persuaded.
"I just need to make sure you are ready and prepared for tomorrow."
"I'll be fine Ms. Wick."
"Call me Daisy. While it may be unprofessional, we aren't working right now and, I anticipate that we will become closer as the excavation proceeds. Are you sure you are okay Dr. Brennan?"
"P-Please, don't call me Dr. Brennan. You may call me Bren, or Brennan; whatever you prefer."
358 more nights like this…
B&B
"Good morning soldiers," Sergeant Major Booth paced in front of the first Terrorist Investigation and Apprehension Training class. "This isn't boot camp anymore."
The Army sent him half a dozen squads getting ready for combat deployment for the four week training. It included exercises, lectures, and plenty of physical conditioning to keep them ready for the action they would see out in the wilder providences of Afghanistan, or the "desert" as they troops liked to call it.
"This here is Master Sergeant Herring; he will be assisting me in training you guys in techniques to better track and get the baddies. We've got a dozen crew that you will also see around in this training."
"Alright," Herring called in what Booth dubbed his 'command' voice. "Before we start with a two mile run, anyone have somthin' to say for the good of the cause?"
"Umm, sir?" a young Private spoke up.
"Private Bartlett, can it!" the squad's Staff Sergeant scolded.
"Booth walked up to the Staff Sergeant, "I'll take care of it…"
"-Marks. Staff Sergeant Marks."
He nodded. "Private Adam Bartlett," Booth read the kid's nametape.
"Sir-"
"Don't call me sir, I work for a living." The unit chuckled. "And besides, I don't get paid enough for that. What's your question?"
"What are your qualifications?"
"Bartlett! Respect the man!" Staff Sergeant Marks wailed again.
"It's a legitimate question," Booth stepped closer to the trembling private. "I was a Ranger sniper with many recorded kills. I was also in numerous campaigns. More recently though, I was a Special Agent in the FBI. Good enough for you?'
Bartlett nodded.
"Alright, running on me! Two miles let's go!" Herring yelled, taking off at a brisk jog.
Booth followed behind the mob, keeping the stragglers moving. Running was always a great way to clear his mind; it was an almost mindless activity. Bones hadn't emailed him back yet. It had been almost a week, what if something happened? Those planes over there weren't exactly safe, but there weren't any plane crashes in the last week. She was going to Mapopoo (or whatever) by boat, probably not a big one either.
The unit thundered over the 'finish line,' gasping for breath.
"Drink up!" Booth hollered.
Still, why hadn't she responded? Did she not want to hear from him? What if she was angry?
"Where do you want to do with 'em boss?" Herring asked.
"Send them over to Specialist Ross Hardy, the ethics guy. He wants them do some 'proper treatment' course before we start the real stuff."
"You got it."
"Just have the squad leaders take them over to meeting room seven."
Seriously? Why hadn't she emailed him back? If only he had a phone number to call. Did they even have phones over there where ever she was?
Booth's thoughts preoccupied him to the point that he didn't even think to look where he was going.
"Oh god I'm worry," he looked up into a Captain's insignia. "I'm sorry sir-" he looked into the eyes of an obviously female officer, "-or ma'am." He saluted.
"At ease," she smiled. "You must be the new Sergeant Major on base."
"Sergeant Major Seeley Booth, at your service umm…"
"Captain Ella Foley, Army Preventive Medicine Officer," she smiled. "So you're the regnant of the new crew passing though?
"Something like that, you said preventive medicine?"
"I work to improve the health of our solders and prevent injury and disease, we need all the men and women we have out there."
"Tell me about it…"
"I hear you're FBI."
"Jesus, people gossip more there than the Jeffersonian…"
"The museum?' she looked puzzled.
"Yeah I used to work with a doctor there to catch the killers of decomposed remains found."
"Sounds like rewarding work to me," she checked her watch. "Hmm, I have an appointment in five, see you around?"
"Yeah, sure…"
"Have a nice day Sergeant Major."
Booth wasn't too sure how to regard this Army Doctor; by the looks of her, every guy on base had to paw after her. At least during his days in the service, let's just say that the guys weren't always as…polite as they ought to be towards good looking females.
Herring strode over to him from the meeting room complex, "Boss, the ethics rock head is done, we done for the day?'
"Yeah, dismiss the guys for the evening. Tell 'em we start at 0500 to run."
"You got it."
They group was only now able to get to the juicy part of training. In his mind, the ethics class was something that Sweets would have instructed him and Bones on. Heck, maybe he did, they seldom paid any attention to what he had to say. He bed the boys didn't listen in the class anyway. Well, it was the only easy few hours of training they would receive; he hoped they made the most of it.
It was dinner time already. Booth wandered to the mess.
"Booth!" Herring called from a crowded table. "Saved you a seat!'
"One sec buddy," he grabbed a tray and sped through the line.
With a laugh, Herring scooted over to let Booth in.
"Wait a sec, is that Private Bartlett sitting alone?" he sat up straighter to get a better look at the kid.
"Probably, the guy's a total barrack rat!" one of the guys called from farther down the table.
"Where are you goin'?" Herring quirked a brow as the Sergeant Major stood up suddenly.
"To sit with him."
"You gotta be kiddin'!"
Just like any Army Mess hall, the place was chaotic. Guys every which way, shoving as much food as they could get down their throats. What could he say though? Being a soldier was a tiring and calorie consuming job!
"Private Bartlett," he half smiled, "is this seat taken?"
He respectfully shook his head.
"So, any reason why you aren't sitting with the rest of your unit?" Booth started in on the mystery meat before him
"I'm not much of a people person sir-"
"Hey now, what did we say about calling me sir?"
"Just something I do out of respect. What should I call you then?"
"Booth is good."
The Private nodded uncomfortably.
"You homesick?"
"N-No way-"
"-Believe it or not, it's not something to be embarrassed about. I felt the first way during my first deployment and trust me, I had nothing to miss back home."
"I see…"
"Missing someone in particular?" Booth probed. He knew guys like this; you just needed to crack them open a bit to get them to ease up.
"My brother…"
"Oh, see? There we go. Now, tell me about this brother of yours."
"Younger brother," Bartlett seemed tense. "I was the one who always looked out for him you know?"
"I get that," Booth acknowledged. After all, he spend countless hours trying to 'defend' Jared from the evils and harshness of the world; look how he turned out.
The two ate in silence, the sounds of the rowdy mess roaring over them.
"I don't know about you," Booth stood up, "but it's been a long day and I'm gonna hit hey. Bright and early tomorrow."
"You got it sarge!"
Booth ran by the internet area, logging in just to check his email.
No new messages.
Seriously? This wasn't like Bones at all. Okay, maybe the whole 'buried in work and loving it' thing was, but the lack of communication with him was really weird.
For a moment, he debated sending another email, but logged off, afraid to look to patronizing. He already knew that Bones could be like a skittish animal; when it came to conflict, she was fight or flight. More often fight than flight, but Maluku, totally flight. If he crowded her too much, he risked sending her off even farther than she already was. Maybe she just didn't care; maybe he already had his hopes up too high.
358 more days for her to respond…
B&B
Thanks again for all of your kindness. And to my silent readers who have this on alert: thank you for your quiet support. I'd love to hear what you have to say about the story. Review, I love the feedback.
-OM