Hey! Apologies for the delay, but here's a pretty action packed (no, not that kind of action, sorry) chappie for you!

More about the case intertwined with B/B deliciousness, of course.

Oh, and I was so happy with the reviews and stuff I totally forgot to post a disclaimer. So here it is, my very late disclaimer:

I DISCLAIM BONES.

There, that ought to do it.

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CHAPTER 4

How was I supposed to know that my wet clothes clung transparently to my body?

"Fine."

I sighed, although carefully not to bother Booth again. I still found it hard to believe that he so freely admitted to being… bothered by me. That didn't seem like him.

I checked my watch.

"Booth, it's twelve thirty. Don't you think Bram will wait another day? It's hailing. He might change his mind… his other kills were right at midnight, that was his signature, you said…"

"No." Booth shook his head, looking determined. I felt like a small piece of him was back, or at least like he had rescued another bit of himself from whatever it was that had changed him lately. He saw inside Frank Bram's mind. He knew what the man would do.

And I trusted him, knowing he was probably right.

"Bones, he'll be here today, all right? Trust me. Mrs Stoker is a potential victim, and we must be alert. Because of this rain there's too much noise, and all we can count on is… our… eyes…"

A deadly silence followed his words.

And then...

We both realised our gigantic flaw at the same time, and turned to exchange a look of horror and shock.

"Is it possible…?" I began, but Booth had already opened the door, and was sprinting away.

As I ran after him, I found it hard to believe how stupid and irrational we'd been. Lost in our little moment, we'd just risked a woman's life because of lust. Ten minutes of not paying our strictest attention to the street. And the stakes were high.

So it was like this that finally, my decision to erase every feeling took a secure and true grip in my mind. I wouldn't fail again. I couldn't live with myself if Mrs Stoker died because I felt like kissing Booth until my thoughts drowned in the flood of dopamine clouding my brain.

Never again.

"Booth!"

He stood at the door, gun in hand, breathing heavily. I splashed in next to him, feeling like an idiot.

"Booth, do you think…?" my voice was raw, vocal cords tense with the effort of not shouting. Did he think it was our fault…?

"We'll talk about this later, Bones. Right now I need you to stay behind me" at least he'd realised there was no way he was going in there alone "and be very, very quiet. Invisible. Like you're not there, get it? I… I'm not going to look at you, okay? But remember: I won't forget you're there."

I felt a strange, constricting sensation in my throat for a moment. Then it was gone and I could breathe again.

"I'd never forget, but for her, for Mrs Stoker I need to be focused, okay? I can't be looking at you. I'm sorry."
"No. No, don't be. Let's just…" I motioned to the door, still trying to catch my breath (although we'd run relatively little). At least the door didn't look like it had been forced open. Then again, part of Frank Bram's MO was picking locks or obtaining the key by other means.

He nodded and slammed his shoulder into the hard wood.

There was a crack and the door flew open. Booth turned to me, and I couldn't help but take an instinctive step back, simply to shield myself from his look. I can't pinpoint, to this day, what it was that made me react like a frightened child, but whatever was in his eyes that night shook me to the core.

"Invisible, okay, Bones?" his pupils like two lanterns in the dark, his irises were burning coals.

"Yes." I whispered.

And he ran inside. I followed him as quietly as I could, even though every thump of my pulse rang in my ears with the same intensity as his eyes had smothered mine.

*

Mrs Stoker lived on the fourth floor of a relatively old apartment building. She was in her forties, tall and thin, attractive, with and elegant air about her. She didn't belong here, amongst middle class hard workers, and in fact she literally didn't belong in this neighbourhood: she had been moved here under the Witness Protection Program.

Although I had found her personality cold and aloof when I met her, I wished desperately that I could save her now. That we could get to her in time. Or that we had made a mistake, and she didn't need saving.

There was no elevator in this building.

Climbing four blocks of stairs without making a noise was harder than I thought, especially since Booth was running as fast as he could (which was very fast) and his body language seemed to indicate he was alone. Not a single pause to check on me, not a glance behind to make sure I was following.
Well, he'd warned me.

*

The door was ajar. My heart metaphorically plummeted to the floor, and I looked at Booth, hoping to exchange a comforting glance.

No such luck. Booth was staring intently at the door, looking focused, looking serious. I felt panic begin to extend its dangerous grip around my thoughts. No instructions, no Booth, and Mrs Stoker who might be dead because of me.

Calm down, Temperance. I told myself that panicking right now was the wrong avenue to follow. I had a chance to help Mrs Stoker, assuming she was dead was counter productive and not logical.

Very quietly, so quietly that I probably wouldn't have noticed unless I was looking at him, Booth opened the door. He did it in a quick movement, although holding it so it didn't hit the wall. I knew (because he'd told me once) that this was an old FBI trick. If the door is prone to creaking, opening it slowly will only announce your presence more.

There was a short, dark corridor leading to the living room. I'd never been inside this apartment, but I knew Booth had. To my horror, the walls were absolutely covered in adornments, from animals to stars, vases and even one big snowflake, every single one made of glass and shining eerily in the moonlight, reminding me of my strange vision.

There were noises coming from the living room, and I craned my neck to see around Booth's form: the back of Mrs Stoker's figure. She was alive, and sitting on her couch. I breathed in relief.

She was talking to someone, however. And she sounded agitated. Not frightened, though I still puzzled over the open door when we'd entered.

"… don't believe you. No, I'm sorry but you're lying."

"No, I'm not. Why would I?"

"Are you serious? You have at least four different reasons to be lying to me right now…!"

"Are you going to risk it?"

There was a pause.

Booth had stopped walking, and now stood standing in the shadows, for all the world as though he was alone. I felt… lost. And visible.

"What are you doing?" she sounded frightened now.

There was a rustle of cloth as Mrs Stoker stood up from her couch, and what she said next was the cue for Booth to announce our presence.

"Stop it-!"

"Mrs Stoker, FBI!"

He ran into the living room, gun preceding him inside. I was right behind him, although with only my fists to fight.

"Mrs Stoker, I'm Agent Booth. It's okay."

She nodded, looking scared, and still not moving from her place against the wall.

Booth quickly turned to look at the man standing in front of Mrs Stoker's coffee table. I did too.

Mr Bram had gotten past us.

"Mr Bram, take a step toward the wall."

"For god's sake you people are pathetic...!"

"Against the wall! And shut up!"

My heart seemed to swell with pride (although in real life it would probably lead to death). We'd got him before it was too late.

"Why? What have I done? We were talking for Christ's sake..."

"Stand against the wall or I swear I'm going to make you, and I'm only going to need to use my finger."

I knew that this was a bluff, of course, because there was no way Booth was allowed to shoot a suspect during a No-Risk situation (Frank Bram wasn't armed), let alone without probable cause or even a hint of incriminating evidence.

Mr Bram seemed to know this too.

"No kidding." he didn't move an inch. "Do it, then. Oh and by the way… nice going with the hot cop girl, man. I'd tap that if she'd have me." He shot me a disgusting look, but I knew it was just to provoke and that he didn't really mean what he said.

And then I realised... he'd seen us. He hadn't just slipped by and not been caught, he seen us. He could use this information against Booth and me as he pleased.

Things were suddenly much more complicated.

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I'm sorry, but I just have to say that it's adorable and it makes me dance when you quote a particular bit of the chap you liked in a review! Is that sad? It's sad isn't it…? Oh well. Hey, this is NOT a subliminal way of saying I want you to do that. Really.

…

Really!

Hehe, just though I'd thank everyone. Again. And don't forget, criticism is most welcome as well, if anyone wants to drop any ideas…

Also, in this chap Bren is very, VERY determined to forget Booth. But before you light up those torches and sharpen those pitchforks, just wait. Keep reading (and reviewing!) and you'll see. ;)

PS. The next chap maay take a bit more because I got a flash of inspiration for chap 6, which I've almost finished. I'm kind of happy about it, actually. And when you read it, I think you'll understand why.