A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 28
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the show BONES…honestly.
Author's notes: Thanks to everyone for reading and special thanks to all of you who continue to take the time to review. My writer's block is unfortunately still in effect…I just can't seem to shake it! However, I decided to sit down and put forth the effort to conjure up a halfway decent chapter. (crosses fingers) Hopefully I succeeded.
And to elliot02uk (dear, dear Jean B.)—Please don't worry. I will hopefully find my muse again soon. By the way, brilliant alliteration in your last review. (wink)
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The cursor blinking on the computer screen mocked her. Brennan sat at her desk with her fingers on her keyboard staring at the blank screen waiting for the words to appear. Thirty minutes had passed since she had entered her office after overseeing Zach's initial examination of a set of remains that had been pulled from "limbo". All she had to do was write a quick summary of her actions on the case, confirming her assistant's findings and essentially grade his work.
However, Brennan's mind was not consumed with work for once. Her thoughts ran rampant, shifting between how she had hurt Booth and how the death of Agent Andrews' factored into her parents' case.
At the moment thoughts of Seeley Booth were weighing heavily on her. The anger and hurt in his dark eyes as he had stared her down before walking out the door was haunting her, twisting her stomach into knots. She had tried to call him shortly after he left the lab but Booth apparently did not want to talk to her at that moment. It was probably for the best, as Brennan had no clue as to what she would have said to him. The word 'sorry' was not going to cover the chasm she had created with her words this time.
Angela stood in the doorway to her friend's office, leaning against the door jamb, watching Brennan stare at the monitor with her hands frozen to the keyboard. She had waited for Brennan to come to her to discuss what had happened with Booth but of course the anthropologist had simply thrust her personal life, and feelings, aside and thrown herself into work. Three and a half hours later it appeared that she could no longer suppress the anguish she was feeling over her argument with Booth.
Sensing that Brennan was teetering on the edge of opening up, Angela decided to take the opportunity to visit her friend's office.
"Sweetie?" she said as she knocked lightly on the door.
Startled, Brennan quickly swiveled her chair toward the door. "Are you through with the facial reconstruction for Zach's 'John Doe'?"
Angela sighed. Okay, she would wade through work-related topics until she could get to the personal ones. "Yeah, I finished that about an hour ago. It didn't take long after you approved the final tissue depth markers for Zach."
Brennan nodded, turning back to the monitor. "Good. Is Hodgins still playing tour guide for my brother?"
Taking a seat across from her friend, Angela smiled. "Yes, Jack got really excited about showing Russ the entomology exhibit. Needless to say your brother was less than thrilled at the idea."
"Well that's what he gets for showing up at my apartment without warning at three in the morning," Brennan replied as she frowned at the still blank screen.
"Russ may be bored out of his mind but at least he's safe. When I spoke to Booth a little while ago, he gave strict orders that neither one of you was to leave Jeffersonian without him."
Her frown deepened at the mention of Booth's name. Brennan slowly removed her hands from the keyboard and turned to face Angela, staring at her with sad blue eyes. "When did you speak to Booth?"
"About an hour ago. He called to check on everyone and then barked those orders at me as though I was a new Army recruit." She watched as Brennan processed the information, the anguish in her features becoming more and more evident. "Sweetie, what happened between you two this morning? I've seen Booth mad before but he was….I don't even think there's a word to describe the look on his face as he left the lab."
"I…I said something…" Brennan's words caught in her throat. Booth wouldn't answer his phone when she had called but he had phoned Angela and spoken with her. The first real meaningful relationship she had ever had was over before it had started—and she had no one to blame but herself. She certainly couldn't blame Booth. He had been more than patient with her, waiting for her to finally recognize what he had apparently known for a while. She had found herself opening up to him, allowing him past the barriers that had been so carefully constructed all those years ago. Then in that one moment of anger and righteous indignation, she had managed to ruin "them".
"It's over," she whispered, feeling a familiar aching sense of loss wash over her.
"Sweetie," Angela said as she leaned forward, covering Brennan's hands with her own, "you two had a fight…not exactly an uncommon occurrence, remember?"
"He didn't answer his phone when I called him," she explained in a hushed tone.
"He was pissed off sweetie," Angela replied. "He needs time to cool down, collect himself and then you two can discuss what happened. Nothing is 'over' Bren. Booth's not the type of guy who does a 'wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am' and then walks away."
"I don't know what that means."
Smiling slightly, Angela squeezed Brennan's hands. "It means that you and Booth did not just fall into bed and make wild passionate love for him to simply walk away from you. He would never do that."
"How did you…" Brennan's blue eyes grew wide.
"Well, Russ sort of figured it out and then…"
Brennan moved her right hand away from Angela's grasp and held it up in the air. "Stop…I don't even want to know."
"The wild passionate love part was purely mine," Angela continued as her smile grew wider. "I mean, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong…."
Leaning back in her chair, Brennan eyed her friend warily as she sighed. "You're not wrong," she said quietly as the memory of Booth's hands and mouth on her swept through her mind. His breathless confession of love echoed in her head, tugging at her heart.
"Brennan, do you want to talk about what happened this morning? I mean, if you don't that's fine…but I'm more than willing to listen." She watched as her friend chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating whether or not she wanted to share her version of the incident.
Brennan leaned forward slightly, picked up a newspaper that was lying on top of her desk and tossed it to Angela.
"What am I looking for?" the artist asked as her dark eyes skimmed the front page.
"The murder of a Chicago field agent—Agent Charles Andrews. He was one of the original agents who oversaw the case on my parents when they worked for the syndicate."
"And you think his murder is somehow connected to your search for your father?"
Brennan nodded, pursing her lips together. "Booth admitted that he knew about Andrews' death last night but Cullen told him he couldn't share any information with me or he would pull him from the case." She paused as she leaned back in her chair again, closing her eyes. "I accused Booth of not telling me about this so that it wouldn't interfere with us having sex."
"Oh Bren, you didn't…." She watched as Brennan closed her eyes, trying to contain her feelings over the incident.
"I did," she replied simply. "I knew it would hurt him…and it did. And now, I don't know how to repair the damage."
"You two have always been like an old married couple…going straight for the jugular sometimes," Angela said as she shook her head. "As I said before, sweetie, give him a chance to cool down and then go apologize….beg for forgiveness, even."
Brennan's eyes slowly opened. "Beg? For forgiveness? Angela, I rarely even apologize and you're suggesting I beg for forgiveness…"
Angela chuckled at her friend. "Bren, relationships are all about give and take….and make up sex. Just imagine the make up sex for this argument…."
"You won't be getting any details Ange," she said as she rolled her eyes. For the first time since her argument with Booth, Brennan felt a small sense of relief. Maybe Angela was right and she and Booth could work through the fallout of her earlier accusations. She certainly hoped so because the dull ache that had resided in her chest for most of the day was suffocating her.
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Booth paced his office frantically, willing the feeling to break something with his bare hands to go away. Did she really see their night together as just sex? Had he set himself up to be another man who ended up in her bed for recreational purposes? Riddled with doubt, he picked up a coffee mug that was sitting on his desk and threw it at the wall, causing it to shatter.
Taking a deep breath, he surveyed the fragmented pieces of the coffee mug lying on the carpet. "She said she loved me," he muttered. Brennan was not the type of person who said those three words easily. Booth moved to the area behind his desk and lowered himself into his chair. As he stared at the spot on the wall where the coffee mug had landed, the agent contemplated his new relationship. He had known that if he had ever been lucky enough to get through to Brennan, a romantic relationship would not be easy. Why should it be? Their working relationship initially centered on both of their antagonistic natures….and the overwhelming need to be right and have the last word.
He leaned back in his chair, allowing the memory of their gentle night of passion to wash over him. No, it wasn't just sex and she knew it, Booth quietly decided. He knew that there had been a chance that she would run from her feelings about him—about the new aspect of their relationship. While Temperance rarely exposed her feelings, Booth knew that when she felt something, she felt it deeply and wholeheartedly. It would have to be difficult to reconcile the sensation of such strong emotions when one was not prone to displaying any emotion.
A brief moment of guilt flitted through his gut as he remembered the number to her office appearing on the caller id of his cell phone as he was driving to work. The amount of anger he had felt after leaving the lab had been transferred to the streets of DC and the other motorists on the road. He had tossed the phone into the passenger's seat, deciding that it was in the best interest for them both to keep his mouth shut and his anger in check.
"Agent Booth?" Cullen's voice in his doorway startled the agent. The deputy director entered the office and closed the door behind him. As he turned to face Booth his gaze settled on the wall and then on the pieces of the broken mug on the floor. "I know the coffee around here is not that good Booth but…"
"It slipped," the younger man replied.
Cullen eyed the agent carefully, taking in his clenched jaw and tense posture. "Is everything okay with you and Dr. Brennan?"
Cullen was not a stupid man. The sparks between one of his favorite agents and the forensic anthropologist had been immediate. The amount of time the pair spent arguing, sometimes over the most inane things, never ceased to amaze him. The deputy director had sensed the change in their partnership many months ago, especially where Booth was concerned. The man was not conspicuous and definitely wore his heart on his sleeve—the only person who hadn't noticed it was Dr. Brennan.
"Were you able to obtain any information on Agent Andrews' financial records?" Booth asked as he picked up a hacky sack ball and squeezed it in his hand, ignoring his supervisor's question.
Cullen sat down at the small conference table, dropped two folders on top of the smooth surface and motioned for Booth to join him. As he joined Cullen at the table, the senior agent slid the folders across the table to him.
"Agent Andrews was being investigated by his superiors. The investigation began in the 1970s when Andrews was still a rookie. He managed to work his way into the robbery division…with a lot of help from friends of his father." Cullen watched as Booth read through the notes in the first folder. "The upper brass suspected that he was up to something criminal when he showed up with a brand new car one day…paid in full."
"On an FBI agent's salary?" Booth questioned as a frown appeared on his face.
Cullen nodded. "Andrews realized his mistake…learned quickly not to display any new expensive toys that everyone knew he couldn't afford."
"But the damage was done, right?"
"Yes and no. They continued to harbor suspicion about him and his activities outside of the Bureau but they could never link him to any criminals…until last week. Jared Piazza is the newest leader of the syndicate that Dr. Brennan's parents worked for. He inherited his position within the last two years from his father, Sal. Andrews was spotted dining with Jared last week…where an exchange was made."
"Money? Drugs?"
"We don't know what was in the envelope. Open the other folder Booth."
Booth did as he was instructed, allowing his eyes to skim the pages in front of him. "Offshore accounts?"
"Andrews opened several accounts using several different names. He deposited just enough money to avoid certain taxation and detection on each account." Cullen sighed as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together in front of his mouth.
"Is this where the five million dollars went?" Booth flipped through the pages, eagerly scanning the new information.
"The accounts totaled approximately three million dollars…before someone emptied them yesterday."
"And it wasn't Andrews, was it?" Booth's gut twisted as Cullen shook his head. He turned to the last document in the folder and felt his heart drop. "Michael Anthony Xavier….MAX."
"There is no such thing as coincidence Booth. I don't know who killed Andrews and his 'informant' but I certainly hope for Dr. Brennan's sake that it wasn't her father."
Booth nodded as he secretly hoped for the same thing. "Sir, I need to tell her about this. She has every right to know."
Cullen sighed as he observed the determination set in Booth's dark eyes. "Tread carefully on this. The last thing I need is an irate squint breathing down my neck."
"Understood sir. Believe me, I've been there and it's no picnic."
The comment elicited a smile from the deputy director as both men stood. "Stay safe Agent Booth."
He nodded as he watched his superior exit the office. Gathering the folders with the new information, Booth quickly exited the office and made his way to the parking garage.
His thoughts strayed to Brennan, whom he knew would not be happy with the new information that he was going to present to her. Booth sighed as he reached into his pocket for his keys. His anger with Brennan had vanished although a small amount of hurt remained. We'll work through it, he decided with silent resolution. He hadn't come this far to simply let her walk away from him.
With thoughts of Temperance whirling through his mind, Booth didn't notice the presence of another person until a fist connected with his face. He dropped the folders as he staggered to the side, colliding with another body. The next sensation he felt was a kidney punch to his back which brought him to his knees. The person standing behind Booth pulled him into a sitting position by the collar of his jacket.
Booth took the opportunity to reach behind his neck, grab the man's hand and twist his wrist until he heard a loud snap. The man screamed and Booth pulled him forward, flipping him onto the pavement.
The first man watched in amusement as his partner rolled around, cradling his broken wrist, whimpering. "That was impressive Agent Booth."
"You wanna try hitting me again when I'm facing you, asshole?" Booth glared at the man as he wiped away the small amount of blood at the side of his mouth.
"If you'll take the time to listen to me, I won't have to do anything else to you. Tell Temperance Brennan to stop her investigation Agent Booth. This," he said as he pointed to the left side of Booth's face where large bruise was quickly forming, "is just a friendly warning. If I'm sent back to talk to you again….it'll be a little less friendly. And it might involve Temperance."
The threat against the woman he loved sent Booth over the edge. Ignoring the shooting pain in his back, he stood. "You son of a bitch! You lay one finger on her and I'll kill you."
"Such passion for your partner…very touching. Be sure she gets the message, won't you?"
As Booth began to lunge at the man in front of him, he felt an intense, sharp pain in his head as he was struck from behind by a third assailant. Once again he fell to his knees, bringing his right hand to the back of his head. Touching the back of his head, Booth felt a large amount of a sticky wet substance which he knew was his blood.
The first assailant, who was also playing the role of messenger, stepped forward. "It's nothing personal Agent Booth, we're just hired hands."
"I'll kill you," Booth muttered as his vision blurred.
"I'm sure you would if you could," the man replied with a smile. The last thing Booth felt was the man's fist connecting with the left side of his face again before he blacked out.
Author's notes: I'm not really happy with this chapter but I felt that the only way to work through this insufferable bout of writer's block was to, well, write something. Let me know what you think.