37—Hunger
Brennan knelt in the dirt, gently brushing away the rich black earth from the skull she was working on. Her back was screaming at her in pain, her muscles tense from days of sitting in the same position while she worked on the mass grave.
Two weeks into her trip, Brennan was still thankful for the offer to get out of the District. She hadn't been out on a major excavation since Booth had become her partner, and she was quickly remembering why she loved it.
Gently lifting the skull from its earthy home, she placed it on the blue tarp to her left. The turning motion relieved some of the tension in her lower back, and she took a moment to stretch her arms above her head. Closing her eyes against the blinding sun, she stretched until her back was mostly relaxed, then settled back in to start uncovering the bones that had been buried next to the skull.
Hours later, as the sun was dropping low on the horizon and the impending darkness was making it nearly impossible to see, she stood from her position in the dirt, stretching as she walked to stand at the end of the blue tarp. She had two nearly-complete skeletons laid out before her, one of a middle-aged woman and one of a teenage boy, both with bullet holes through the base of the skull.
Quickly and systematically, she packed the two skeletons into separate crates to be sent back to the make-shift lab she was using at the local university. When the crates were safely in the van, and the site had been secured for the night, she climbed into the vehicle alongside her three colleagues.
The trip back to the city was long and bumpy, even as the driver did his best to avoid the larger potholes on the dirt road. The driver tried to get them back to the city as quickly as he could, but he couldn't avoid the drive being interrupted for nearly twenty minutes, when he was forced to stop to wait for a herd of sheep to cross the road before they could continue towards the distant lights of the city.
Brennan closed her eyes amongst the chatter of her colleagues, who were talking anxiously about what had been uncovered that day, and settled back against the seat. She was startled awake thirty minutes later, though she would've sworn it had only been five, when the van reached the edge of the city.
Stolac was a small, quiet town on the Bregava River in southern Bosnia-Herzegovina. Brennan was struck, not for the first time, by the beauty of the city. It was one of the oldest settlements in south-western Europe, and a treasure trove of history and intrigue for her.
The team, made up of both archeologists and anthropologists, was staying in one of the small hotels of the city, right near the water. After dropping them off, the van made its way toward Mostar, the closest city, to unload that day's work in the university's lab.
With an exhausted smile, Brennan followed the others into the building, and walked slowly toward her room. Intent on having a long, hot shower then going to sleep, her plans were interrupted when she realized the hot water had already been turned off for the night.
Shivering under the cold spray, she rinsed the dirt and sweat from her body as quickly as she could. Climbing out of the ice-box, she dried herself quickly and pulled on her pajama pants and an old FBI t-shirt, thankful for the warmth they provided to her slender frame.
While she brushed her hair out, she thought about when she had gotten the t-shirt.
She had been out in the field with Booth that day, not at a crime scene, but visiting the family of the victim. Booth had knocked on the front door, with Brennan standing off to the side and slightly behind him while they waited for someone to answer.
When the man had opened the door, he had assumed Booth and Brennan were there to arrest him, and so he made an attempt to run. He pushed Brennan into a freshly-painted pillar, coating her white blouse in blue paint.
After an extremely short chase, Booth had the guy cuffed and sitting on the ground next to the SUV while they waited for someone to come pick him up.
While Brennan watched the man, Booth had reached into the back and pulled out one of his old shirts that he kept there, just in case. Handing it to Brennan, she had pulled it on, covering her ruined blouse.
She wore it back to her apartment that night, and just never gave it back. It wasn't like she had forgotten about it, since she wore it to sleep in nearly every night, he just never asked for it back.
Brennan smiled in the mirror, wondering what Booth was up to at that moment. She hadn't talked to him since she'd arrived in Bosnia because she knew he would ask her why she had left, and she wasn't quite ready to answer that question.
She knew the answer, she had known it since the moment the explosion shook the lab. She just wasn't ready to tell him the answer.
Her empty stomach interrupted her thoughts, and she smiled, knowing Booth would lecture her for not having eaten. As she thought about it, she wondered when the last time was she had eaten. Probably the day before, she decided, not realizing it had been so long. When she was in the field she got caught up in her work, and as a result she forgot to do things like eat.
Changing her pajama pants for a pair of jeans and sneakers, she pulled on a sweatshirt and headed out into the city, looking for dinner.
Finding a café that was still open, she ordered sarma and a cup of coffee. Sitting outside on the patio, overlooking the river, Brennan slowly ate the rolled cabbage leaves filled with meat, enjoying the variety of flavors and spices. Sipping her Turkish coffee, Brennan's thoughts once again returned to Booth and what he was doing.
