After lunch at the diner ("It's Strawberry Rhubarb Tuesday, Bones!"), Brennan returned to her office to keep working on her book and miscellaneous paperwork. After staring at her computer for twenty more minutes, she heaved an irritated sigh and left the quiet solitude her office provided.
"Hey Ange, what are you up to," she asked as she entered the artist's headquarters.
"Just routine maintenance," she replied while facing the screen. She tapped a few more buttons before giving her full attention to her best friend. "What can I do for you?"
Brennan quickly walked into the room, taking her spot in the chair by Angela's desk.
"I need help," she said exasperatedly, holding out the invitation. Angela took the paper, reading quickly through it. By the time she had finished, she was almost out of her chair in excitement.
"Come on," she said, pulling her friend to her feet, "I know just the place!"
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The rest of the week went by in a blur. After she had found a dress ("The dress" Angela had said in awe), Brennan found it had been a whirlwind getting everything else required for the event. She was thankful her best friend had been to as many costume parties as she had, for she knew just how to make a mask to match and ensure it wouldn't bug Brennan all night.
And now the night is here, she thought as she stepped into her outfit. Angela had come by earlier to do her makeup and hair, and Booth was going to pick her up soon. She looked at the clock as she secured her shoes. Ten minutes. She felt the swoop of nerves into her stomach and examined herself in the mirror. Not bad, even if it's not scientifically accurate she thought. Testing out a smile, she watched her reflection do the same. She shook herself out of her thoughts and gathered the rest of her necessities for the night.
Ten minutes later, on the dot, she heard a knock. She walked over to the door (practicing all week in her heels had paid off), pausing before she opened it. Once she did, it revealed a very suave looking Booth leaning against the frame. His eyes grew wide and he stood up straight as he looked at the woman, vision his mind corrected him, standing before him.
His eyes roamed down her form as he took in everything about her. The dress, form fitting to her knees, flared slightly, swishing with each nervous movement she made. The electric blue material brought out her cobalt eyes even more, and had threads of metallic green running throughout it. The dress did not reveal much, but it was stunning nonetheless. He was sure his heart had stopped beating for a moment. When she turned around, beckoning him to follow, he knew it did. While the neckline was modest, the scandalously low back revealed what the front could not. The bare expanse of skin ended at the curve in her back where his hand usually rested, but it was below, below her toned back and porcelain skin, that was the key. The dress flowed out in a slight train, subtly accentuating her curves. The train was covered in dozens of embroidered peacock feathers, the thread glittering in the light. Real feathers from a peacock adorned the top of the train and added to her ethereal effect.
He blinked himself out of his trance, letting her know how absolutely stunning she looked. She blushed, dipping her head bashfully, then returned the compliment, secretly admiring the way his perfectly tailored tuxedo fit his form.
"Are you ready Ms. Peacock," he asked, holding out his arm to her. She took it and grabbed her purse before starting a lecture about the scientific inaccuracies of her costume that Angela wouldn't let her finish at the store.
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As they wound their way through the Virginia country side, they discussed everything and nothing. They were laughing about a childhood story Booth was telling about Jared when his phone let off a sharp, chirrupy ring. He plucked it out of his pocket, answering with his customary "Booth", before listening to the voice on the other end. All traces of laughter disappeared from his face and he slammed his palm on the steering wheel in anger. After a few choice words, he hung up, his mouth drawn in a thin line.
"That was the director of the Penitentiary," he said before his partner could ask, "Del Amitri, the musician we arrested two months ago for murder, escaped today and they wanted to put us on alert." The anger radiated through his voice and he hit the steering wheel once again for good measure.
"Do we have to go back," Brennan asked calmly, disappointment starting to drip through her veins.
Booth sighed deeply, reigning in his fury at the incompetence of the wardens. "No, we're already dressed up, and we can't do much until they catch him again." They drove on, both relaxing back into their jovial moods from before.
"It should be just around this bend," Bones said some time later as she read the directions on the back of her invitation once again. Booth mumbled something about his GPS, Parker and peanut butter not ever being a good combo, but the rest of the story died on his lips as he pulled up to the gates of the huge, forested estate. Both adults tilted their heads to see through the windshield better, awed into silence. The gates opened up, beckoning them into the manor with an eerie silence. Booth drove to the man in blue motioning for them to turn to the left, towards the Lexus, Audi and BMW covered lot. After parking, the pair came back to the man who told them that cars were not allowed to the main house tonight. Booth and Brennan shared confusion until the man went on to explain that a horse drawn carriage would take them up to the gala on the hill above them. At his words, a midnight black horse trotted forward, carrying a rather ornate 15th century French carriage behind it (or at least, that what Bones had told Booth). The agent helped his partner into the fairytale-esque ride before stepping in himself.
The ride to the mansion was quiet as the horse trotted along the candle lit path. Brennan fidgeted with her bracelet, the emerald and diamond bauble shooting off sparkling rays in the clear moonlight.
"You know," she started, finally meeting her partner's eyes across the carriage, "despite this night, and Marilynn for that matter, being completely asinine, I'm glad you came."
She gave him a small smile, biting on her lightly glossed lips. He was about to say thank you, but was halted when he realized the horse had stopped and they were now at the grand entrance of the manor in the hills. They heard the laughter and music from within and both exited their ride, completely awestruck at the grandeur they were observing up close. Brennan took Booth's proffered arm and they followed the sounds to the ballroom.
The pair stood in the doorway at the top of the stairs watching the hundreds of people dancing and laughing below. Booth moved to walk in but Brennan's hand on his arm stopped him. She opened her purse and pulled out a mask to match her gown, feathers rising from her right temple and flowing across her forehead. Looking at her date expectantly, he finally heaved a sigh and pulled a black mask out of his jacket pocket, donning it as well.
"You look like Zorro," she said with a smirk as they made their way down the stairs.
"Zorro? You know Zorro," he asked, turning to look at her incredulously. She just smiled cheekily and turned to accept a drink from a passing waiter.
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A/N: Ok guys, the next chapter is where the adventure (i.e.: murder) starts! Thanks for reading!
