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More - As promised!
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13. Balancing Tempers
"What on earth is going on here?"
Brennan tried to conceal a gape. Booth stiffened noticeably.
"What is going on?" The young woman repeated again.
"Ma'am, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI and Dr Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian," Blake immediately answered, ignoring a suspicious look that Hattie threw him.
Apparently he had shifted in attitude.
"Right," said Mary civilly, slightly flustered. "What do you want?"
"You are the wife of Evan Felix Rushmore, are you not?" Brennan questioned inquisitively, trying to ignore the strange feeling that plucked at her when she stared at the lively young woman. She reminded her of Hannah.
She wondered whether Booth accounted the resemblance.
If he did, he didn't show it.
"Ex wife," Mary corrected. "Yes, that I am."
"Not according to record papers," Brennan righted her in return. "You are still very much married."
"And according to FBI records," Booth put in, taking a step closer to the woman, "he was living here until very recently."
Mary's jaw tightened. "Hattie? Clear away tea. Mr Blake? I will continue my business discussion with you at a more appropriate time."
Hattie gathered the dishes and departed. Blake, however was immovable.
"Go, Josh," the blonde said lowly, clearly assuming that the two crime partners had horrible hearing, "don't get caught up in this." However confident she seemed, there appeared to be a guard that had hole in it. Flaws.
"Do you wanna talk in here?" Booth motioned to the room around him with a nonchalant wave of the hand.
"In the study. Can you leave Ms Brennan behind, though?" Mary tilted her chin up.
Brennan furrowed a confused brow, offended.
"Dr Brennan comes with me. She is my partner, and anything you say goes via her too," he told their suspect, adding emphasis to the fact that his Bones was a doctor. Not any old 'Ms'.
The FBI agent was as set as concrete on his decision. He could tell that Mary Rushmore didn't like it. Screw her, he thought bitterly, if she's a sourpuss to Bones, then that's all she's going to get in return.
Nodding tightly, Mary led them to a tidy study, that sported walls of classic novels, modern love stories, study resources and travel titles.
Ruefully, Brennan wondered just how many of them made it off the shelf.
While Booth strode straight to a seat, his partner strolled past the books, examining their careful order. He saw her freeze.
Squinting, he tried to see what she gazed at. The titles were harder to make out, but he made out the bold writing of the most important part.
'Temperance Brennan'.
Bones' novels.
How had Mary pretended not to know Brennan, if she read her works? Iffy. How had Mary discouraged Brennan's title like she had before, if she read the brilliant doctor's novels? Spiteful.
Booth didn't like the motives of this woman.
Brennan appeared to dismiss this, however, and she took a seat beside him.
"When was the last time you saw your husband, Mrs Rushmore?" she asked, when they were all settled.
"About three weeks ago. He was heading into D.C. for a music gig; he had just released his new album, and because he is low on the chart food chain, this premiere release-type thing was his 'big break'." Mary Relaxed into the ancient groove of the leather desk chair.
Inwardly, the partners shared a silent wave of relief; perhaps this girl would talk easily.
"How long have you been separated?" Booth was mentally cataloguing everything.
Brennan could tell.
"Well...you see...it's complicated." Their suspect twisted her bottom lip between her teeth.
"Isn't it always?" Booth made the effort to encourage her into false security.
Mary lifted a shoulder, and dropped it listlessly. "We were on and off. I said that we had to break up, because I really couldn't see it going anywhere-"
"But you were married; the definition of marriage is the binding of those two who have believed to have found their true other halves. You marry someone because you want to be tied to them for the rest of you lives." Brennan appeared to be distressed by Mary's lack of coition. "How could you not see a relationship going anywhere, if you married for the sole purpose of love, and to be with that person for thirty, or forty, or fifty years?"
Brennan's sudden defensive demand caught Mary off guard. Booth, however, regarded his partner in shock.
He couldn't believe, that she, who always mocked the notion of marriage, had just defended it so passionately, and even quoted his own words of a year ago.
"Do you see why I didn't want her to come along?" Mary stumbled eventually, seemingly uncomfortable after the anthropologist's attack.
"Enough," Booth chided shortly, "Dr Brennan was right. Why marry someone, and then such a short time later, claim that the marriage was going nowhere? Didn't you consider having children?"
"No. I don't do kids. If anything, they are an inconvenience, and a waste of time." Again, Mary seemed to stick her nose in the air petulantly.
"I am a father," Booth put in sharply, having already taken a dislike to this woman. She irritated him, and it wasn't just because she strongly reminded him of Hannah.
"Having a child is one of the most fulfilling things a person can do with their lives. I see that your life, however, lacks purpose," Brennan supported bitterly.
Booth found that he was comforted by her logical attacks. She would put this woman in her place.
"You had questions?" Mary demanded irritably.
"Yes, of course." Booth crossed a leg and folded his hands in his lap.
"Proceed, then. My time is short."
"Do you have to go and powder your nose?" Brennan queried, feigning innocence.
Booth had to stifle a snort. He was thoroughly enjoying Brennan's fiery attitude.
"You were asking me questions about my husband's murder," Mary snapped, clearly unimpressed.
"We said nothing about murder, Mrs Rushmore," Brennan revealed evenly. "Where on earth did you get that notion? How did you even know that it could have been your husband? What if it had been he, who had murdered someone else?"
Mary shifted, suddenly very uncomfortable.
If he could have, Booth would have given his partner a high-five. She was on the ball, and he was loving it.
"Since we're on the same page," he said at that moment, deciding it was time to intercede. "Perhaps you tell us a few things." He was ready to interrogate.
Mary nodded tightly.
Brennan leant back in her chair, wishing that she had popcorn. She loved watching him broil suspects.
"What is your association with Mr Blake?" Booth fired.
It had began.
"That is irrelevant." Mary was losing confidence already.
"Not unless we think so."
"Business."
"What sort of business?"
"None of your business."
"Oh, we can very easily make it our business." Booth leant forward. "What is your connection to him?"
"Just business partners, that's all."
"She lying, Booth," Brennan put in suddenly, a smug feeling overwhelming her. "She is Joshua Blake's blood related sister. They have the same maternal family. I can also see the similarities in the formations of her profile."
Booth jaw tightened. "You had better tell the truth, Mrs Rushmore, or things are going to get ugly very quickly."
Mary huffed. "Fine. Josh is my older brother. We grew up on that winery, because our parents worked there for generations. The original owner had no other living relatives, so he left to my parents in the will. My parents, left it to Blake. Comprends?"
"Your slight accent," Brennan deducted thoughtfully, "it's French-Canadian. You weren't born here."
Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she flipped out a card from a small box in front of her. Tossed it to Booth.
"Screw this," she muttered. "You can talk to my lawyer."
"Booth, Mary shares the same lawyer as Blake," Brennan whispered, upon reading the small card.
"Duh. We're related. Family money. Now, if you don't mind, I have horses to work." Mary went to stand, brushing down her jodhpurs.
The two partners stood before she could.
"I was hoping that this would have been easier," Booth said curtly.
"Yeah, well, you supposed wrongly. Get out of my house." Mary put her hands on her hips.
"Don't you dare speak to him like that," Brennan hissed. "Have some respect. You may have the unearned dollars, but your disposition is appalling, and I find that I am disgusted by you."
"So you don't like me, do you? Because I know how I feel about you." The blonde almost sounded amused, but she wasn't prepared for Brennan's answer.
"No, I do not like you," the anthropologist answered shortly. "Your appearance is fake, your attitude petty and your smile could have fooled a loser. Everything about your person is bogus. I believe that society progresses no where with beings like yourself."
Mary gaped openly, clearly offended. Utterly offended. Her eyes flashed furiously.
Brennan didn't care. For once, she didn't feel guilty about serving it to someone. Although inwardly she had admit that part of the frustration and anger was projected because the woman resembled Hannah.
Booth ushered Brennan out of the mansion hastily.
When they were in the car, he turned to her.
"Look, Bones, don't get me wrong; I love that you're ready to attack with confidence, and I get that the woman was a-"
"Bitch," she interrupted shortly.
"Yeah but-" Booth started, startled by his partner being reduced to curse words.
"-and a fake."
"Yes-"
"There was something awfully bad about her. She gave me a really bad feeling. Have you completely checked her file?"
"No." Booth was stunned, having lost the will to snap at Brennan for interrupting him all the time. "No I haven't."
"Could you please? I know that I am normally opposed to 'going with my gut' but there is something I don't like about this woman; there is something that she's hiding, and she hardly said anything relevant to the case before I felt that way."
"Okay," Booth confirmed in higher tones. "We could check it out right now, if you wanted to."
"Later," she decided. "When we get back."
"She looked a bit like Hannah," Booth stated casually, quite suddenly, though.
Brennan froze. That was an unusual turn of conversation for him to breach, considering it was he, who always tried to swerve the 'H' topic.
"Is that part of the reason why you attacked her so maliciously? Is it because of what she looked like?" He turned the key in the ignition, but didn't meet her eyes.
"No, Booth, it's not-"
"Don't lie to me, Bones."
"I'm not lying!" she protested, hinting of hysteria.
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"Fine. I am. She looked like Hannah, and I wanted to hit her. Are you happy?"
"Why are you so testy, Bones?"
"I'm not testy."
"You're being defensive." Booth pulled out of the property.
Brennan just groaned in reply.
"This is unlike you, Bones," he said warily, after receiving no other reply than her moan.
"Unlike me, how?"
"Your attitude."
"I'm cycling. I more vulnerable to emotional inconsistencies at the time being. She just put me in a foul mood, that's all," Brennan said as lightly as she could manage, allowing a contrite expression to wash over her face. "I apologise for being unpleasant. It's not your fault, and I shouldn't be maliciously attacking you." She sought around in her bag for a bottle of water after she concluded.
Booth heaved a sigh. "Explanation and apology accepted."
There was a heavy silence for a while.
Brennan prolonged what was on her mind. "Did Mary...did she have an effect on you because she looked like Hannah?" she asked eventually, having sourced the confidence.
"Bones..."
"You brought her up!"
"True. Okay, fine. Yes, I saw the resemblance. It sparked a twinge, but nothing more. No, I actually felt no regrets or resurfaced feelings when I looked into that girl's face."
Brennan half-nodded in reply, partially sure she believed him.
"Bones, I know that it generally takes people a while to get over lovers, but I couldn't be stuffed to think about Hannah right now, okay? She's deported, and I never have to see her again, not unless I want to. Which I don't. So..."
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Yes, fine. I say it, to express my exception of your words."
"Bull. Why do I get the feeling that you've got another hit left in you?"
"No reason. You're imagining things."
"No, I'm not."
"Booth, listen to me, please. I will openly admit that I am more prone to slipping into a fowl mood, because of the time of the month - which is why Mary's resemblance to you ex stirred me up perhaps a little more than it should have-" Brennan heaved a frustrated sigh. "I accept your answer, even though my hormone-reined brain probably doesn't want to agree so. Can we please just not talk about it anymore?"
Booth nodded silently in agreement.
They travelled in silence, as they had before.
Although the wind had changed, and the attitude towards each other was once again reversed.
Hmm.
What's next? ;)
Xx G