The Matter to the Bones Chapter 6
Hey all! Here's your next chapter. I'm a little bit annoyed though, because I just spent all this time going through and editing - and the bloody thing didn't save for some reason or other! Grr. I've had to go through it again, so I do apologize for any typos I made/missed. I didn't mean to! Xx G
6. Vacation Damper
'One missed call'
The three impertinent little words flashed annoyingly on the screen of her phone.
Doesn't it know that I'm on a holiday? Brennan thought irritably.
The call had been from Booth. He didn't leave a message.
Brennan discarded it as an unimportant matter, given there was no request for immediate contact upon the alert being received. Slipped her phone into the pocket of her running holder, she pulled a T-Shirt over her head.
"I'll see you later, then?" she asked her father when she was ready to go.
Max straightened his pressed shirt. "I probably won't be back tonight...so tomorrow morning? Late breakfast at ten?"
His daughter nodded.
"Where are you going?" he then asked, eyeing her sporty apparel.
"For an afternoon run. I'll see you later." She leant over and kissed him on the cheek, before taking her packed running arm-belt from the small table.
The track wasn't hard to access; it began twenty metres away from her lodge.
It was her third day at the winery, and most days she had spent reading, tasting, of even dozing occasionally. She was desperate to get outside and do something active though, so a run was the perfect solution. Head bopping, she focused on the easy tempo rhythm of her music, and after a short paced walk to warm up, she set of at a jog.
After a decent fifteen minutes of running, she was just reaching the bottom of the second little hill, when an off, familiar scent wafted through her nostrils. It was so faint, someone could have missed it. She knew what it was though.
Brennan came to a halt and moved towards the smell.
Any other person may have perhaps picked up the very subtle waft of rotting flesh, but would have discarded it as a dead animal.
She knew better though. Sliding down the slope towards the mass hidden beneath the shrubbery fifteen metres from the running track, she stopped before the human remains.
Something was wrong with the head. Weirdly, strangely wrong with it.
She needed to take a look, but had no gloves. Digging around in her bra, she retrieved an unused tissue that she had stashed in there before venturing out. Careful not to touch anything but the skull, she covered her hand in the tissue and touched the surface.
If what she thought was there, existed, then this was foul play – even though dead body in the middle of a winery kind of hinted that. Sure enough, her thumb discovered the odd, crushed groove in the skull.
This was murder.
She couldn't believe it; of all the places. Of all the times.
Discarding the soiled tissue with a huff, she retrieved her phone from the running belt and called Cam, Hacker, and very reluctantly, Booth. Although it was viable for her to return to her cabin and await the forensics from the FBI and the Jeffersonian team to arrive, she had an itch to work. Or run. Or do something other sitting around.
Was there any place where murder didn't occur? Not even the place that she holidayed at for three days?
Sighing, she stared down at her runners; she had come out onto this mountain track to go for a run, and that desire to exercise was still there. Calculating the time that she had before anyone would arrive, she pulled off her royal blue T-shirt and fastened it to a nearby tree.
After adjusting her black tank top and putting her earphones back in, she set off up the track at a steady pace.
-~B&B~-
The heat of the day had picked up in the last hour, and Brennan found that while she tanned in the late afternoon sun, her body wasn't as thankful for heat while she ran. Having turned around, and heading backwards now, she realised that she wasn't exactly sure where the crime scene was. Discarding the instant wave of worry, she turned her iPod up a notch and sang along in her a breathy soprano.
"Last friday night...we went streaking in the park, skinny-dipping in the dark, then had a menage a trois...Last friday night-" She closed her eyes momentarily as she rounded another corner. "-yeah I think we broke the law...always say we're gonna stop-op...whoa-oh-oah." She opened them, and drifted off as the song moved into its second chorus.
Almost the entire forensic team watched her in bewilderment. She flushed furiously and eased herself to an even stride, before walking up to Hodgins, cheerfully greeting him.
Her friend grinned joyously upon seeing her.
"Hey hot stuff," he chuckled, "when's your California Dreams tour?" Secretly he wondered what his wife would say to Brennan – of all people – showing up to a crime scene in Nike sports shorts and a close hugging tank top. Singing Katy Perry. Katy Perry! Brennan didn't know who Brittany Spears was, but she knew the teen-loved pop star.
"I don't know what that means," Brennan replied candidly, shuffling awkwardly.
"Sure you don't."
She nodded her head once, clearly confused.
"Insect activity how long, Hodgins?" Cam asked from her squat beside the corpse, regarding Brennan, but skipping out on making a comment towards her appearance and entrance.
"Yeah...I'm not sure about this one." He looked irritated at being unable to give his boss the answer she wanted.
"What do you mean?" Brennan interceded before their boss could.
"Well it appears that the Vic has been deceased for maybe a couple of weeks, versus a couple of months," Hodgins told her, shrugging his shoulders, "if I am correct, this person was underground before showing up here."
"Casket?" The anthropologist was on the ball.
"Perhaps."
Cam walked over and handed Brennan a pair of disposable gloves. "Just be careful not to touch anything too much, Dr Brennan – you do have a lot of exposed skin...and..."
Much to her surprised, the gloves were returned.
"I would prefer to investigate back at the lab, Dr Saroyan. Although I can tell you that he is of a Caucasian profile, and that his age is primal. Where is Booth?"
Cam pointed to a suited back a few metres away.
Heaving a sigh, Brennan set her shoulders confidently.
"Hey," she greeted casually, tapping him on the elbow.
Booth was jotting notes onto a pocket notebook, but lifted his eyes upon her arrival. For a fleeting moment, his eyes widened and snuck a glance over her athletic form, before meeting her eyes.
She didn't miss that.
"So...ah," – Booth cleared his throat – "what have you got?"
"I haven't thoroughly examined him yet, but I can classify that he is a male Caucasian, roughly anywhere between late twenties to his early thirties. Clark will examine the bones further when they arrive back at the Jeffersonian."
"You're not coming back yet?"
"I will stay a night longer. I gather that the owner returns this evening from a business trip; I am supposed to have dinner with him."
Booth's eyebrows jutted skywards in surprise. "Is that so?"
"Yes. I am a successful author, the best forensic anthropologist that there is and quite beautiful. I am surprised that you are surprised."
Her partner stared at her with slight exasperation; how many times had he heard her successes before?
Each time though, he admittedly felt a little proud of her, and that downed the partial embarrassment when she decided to speak of her qualities in public.
"Now, while this is all under control, I need to take a shower. I am exposed to this heat, and I am sweaty. I'll see you later." She touched a hand delicately to her dampened chest.
Booth nodded uneasily. "I'll stick around till our man arrives; I might need a confession or two out of him."
"Well, I could do that," Brennan offered, stretching at the elastic of her black singlet allow air to breathe. "I am going to dinner with him; I could subtly ask him a few questions..."
"Bones, you and I both know that you don't do subtle. Let's just let me take care of it, okay?"
"Or we could do it together."
Booth started.
"I mean as partners," she clarified at his stunned response, "because I am your partner, and I have also toured this place and know where everything is."
Before he could reply, she caught her iPod neatly in her hands and selected her playlist, before setting off for her cabin at a jog.
-~ B&B ~ -
Half an hour later, Brennan tousled her wet hair through her fingers, while pulling out her dark skinny-leg jeans and her favourite white cotton shirt. Deep in thought, she absently pulled on her chosen attire and utterly missed the sound of a knock on the door.
Towel around her neck, she padded into the kitchenette on bare feet to get a drink, and was visibly startled when she saw her visitor.
"Booth," she greeted him breathlessly, clutching her stomach. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you," she apologised, closing the door behind him when both were inside.
"Forgiven."
Brennan grimaced when she turned away from him. "Can I get you a drink? It is the afternoon...so I have alcohol, or if you would prefer, water and juice."
"Beer, Bones. That'd be great. Thanks." He seated himself on the armchair that overlooked the view, and was also positioned so you could watch the television, if you wanted to.
"Where's Max?" he asked, flipping through one of the styling magazines on the coffee table beside him.
"He was meeting up with friends tonight from the district - he'll be back tomorrow."
Booth nodded soundly in reply, and accepted the cold beer that Brennan handed him.
"So how is everything back home?" she asked somewhat eagerly, when she had settled with her legs stretched out on the couch.
He seemed to be distressed by her easy question. "You've been gone for three days, Bones. Hardly enough time for something to happen," he replied quickly, shifting uncomfortably.
But something had happened. He may not be sharing with her, but she had wised up to his emotional habits. Not that she really blamed him for keeping it from her though; they really hadn't been 'friend' close in almost twelve months. It was killing her, metaphorically, of course.
Brennan frowned. "A lot can happen in seventy-two hours, Booth. You were kidnapped by the Gravedigger within less than a minute after I had spoken to you."
Booth was silent.
"You know...on the night of my-" she began to prompt when she didn't receive an answer from him.
"Yeah I know Bones," he snapped suddenly, interrupting her. He took a swig of his beer.
"When did you become this?" His partner demanded indignantly. "You and I? Us? We used to talk about anything! Now I can't speak to you without you snapping or having a go at me."
Booth pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, frown spreading across his forehead.
"And you can't explain it," Brennan added, slightly wary.
"No, Bones, I can't explain it. But don't say that I don't talk to you about anything anymore, because I tried to talk to you, and you ignored my call. You are the one that's not trying here."
"Trying?" Brennan responded heatedly, feeling like she had been punched in the gut. "I'm not trying to get along with Hannah? She ambushed me Booth. If you say that I haven't tried handle your whole relationship and to befriend this woman just because she is important to you, then clearly you haven't been paying close enough attention as you used to! I have been trying, Booth. So hard. You have no idea how much I want this to work."
He hung his head. "I know, Bones...I-"
"Can we please just not talk about it? Please? I came here so I could get away from everything, and I don't want these past three days I have spent relaxing, wasted the moment you turn up. Just drink, and then we'll go to dinner at six."
After her request, they sat silently, both whether things would ever return to what they had been.
There you go, my loyal readers! Thank you so much to all my reviewers, story/author favs, story/authoer alerters! It's awesome, and only makes me want to write more. I hope I still have you interested! xx
SPOILER: Hannah-haters, fear no more! The story may just be turning in you favour... *evil grin*