Sorry this took a little while! Have fun ;) x G

WARNING: This chapter includes language that may come across as offensive to some, and I didn't think that I needed to rate the whole story 'M' for a paragraph of cursing. My apologies if it does offend you, but it was necessary for one of the characters. I apologise if it upsets any of you, but it is only a brief use of the 'f' word a couple of times. That's all - any other language used, I have already used throughout the story. xx

26. Taking A Beating

It was so heavy.

Brennan tried again.

The large door wouldn't budge.

Perhaps it was locked?

She grazed the area for another alternative.

She couldn't go around the front again, and risk being seen by the trainer Baxter. Although Booth believed that the man's cooperation wasn't genuine, Brennan didn't want to irritate him incase it was; he had already told them to leave them alone, and although Brennan worked with the law, she believed in courtesy.

Living through her father's murder trial had taught her a few things, and that had been one among them.

She spied an open window.

It was pretty high up, and quite small, but there was a large dumpster bin beneath it, which meant that she could holster herself up. Without thinking twice about it, she advanced towards the window, and placed an upturned bucket to help her step up.

Once on top, and subconsciously keeping an eye out for any persons, Brennan peered in through the small crevice.

A horse stomped restlessly below in its stall.

It was a fair distance down, but as she inspected the area below more carefully, she discovered a raised concrete water trough off towards the right. If she could stretch a leg out farther enough, she could use it as a little ledge, and it would help break the distance to the ground, if she were to tumble.

Did she dare?

Of course she did. But even if she did succeed, what was she looking for? Had it been a lie when she had told Booth that she was going to talk to more suspects, or had she really intended to poke around? What ever her intentions were, was it worth sneaking in through the window just to carry out the former? It felt more like she was doing so for the latter.

She encouraged the window to open further with a gentle push of her palms. The bay horse looked up at her curiously.

"Hey there," she crooned lowly. She clicked her tongue.

The horse's ears pricked.

Brennan took a deep breath, and crouched down, sticking her first leg through the small opening. Then, the second. Feeling around for the trough beneath her right foot, she pushed her body downwards with her arms - ignoring the discomfort that followed when they bent unfavourably. As soon as she went to jump down, however, her waist felt choked. The more she tried to pull away, the more it resisted.

She glanced up at the window: the wrap from her trench coat was snagged in a thick, rusted nail attached to frame. Bracing herself by placing a second foot against the rim of the trough, and gripping to the frame, Brennan pulled against it, tugging viciously.

Behind her, the horse snorted and moved about nervously.

She yanked once more — hard, and rough.

It gave, and she tumbled back into the stall. The horse whinnied nervously.

Winded from her abrupt fall, for a moment Brennan could only stare upwards at the four, tall legs and towering body in a frozen state of shock. Pain shot through her back and elbows.

The horse groaned; a deep, throaty sound, which was soon followed by another snort, and then a neigh.

Footsteps hastened towards the stall, and before Brennan could comprehend what was happening, two strong arms tore her from the ground, and pushed her out into the aisle.

Brennan's eyes caught those of her saviour; a girl, who could be no more than seventeen. Attempting at concealing her surprise, she watched as the girl settled the horse down with murmurs and soft, gentle strokes.

When all was well, the girl exited the stall and shut the door as quietly as she could.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" she hissed. "If my father caught you in here, he'd have you guillotined!" She was English, but her accent was somewhat rougher than Blake's.

Brennan shook her head in bewilderment, trying to organise her thoughts. "You just-"

"Saved you," she cut in. "I know."

"And you're-"

"Blake's daughter. Yes."

"Thank you," she said with sincerity. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there."

"Probably the victim of Fabio's hooves, if you had stayed down there any longer."

"Fabio…?"

"The inmate whose cell you just invaded…"

"Oh, right. The horse."

The girl grimaced.

"You were very brave," Brennan told her.

She blushed. "It was nothing; lived around horses my whole life."

"Is that so?"

She nodded, and seemed to be deliberating something. "I'm Ashleigh...Baxter - I gather you met my father not so long ago?"

"Yes, with my partner." Brennan studied her warily. "Your accent…"

"Mum is Australian, and Dad's English. I'm lucky; I got to be American."

"You say that with sarcasm."

"I hate it here," she answered blankly. "I want to go home."

"Oh." Brennan was taken aback. "Where is home?"

Ashleigh's emotionless stare suddenly turned hard. "You should probably leave; if my father sees that you're still here, he'll have your head."

"I'm not quite so ready to leave yet," Brennan differed. "Can you tell me where 'Kelly' is? I gather that she is the other trainer."

The teenager's mouth twisted bitterly. "Being worried about getting in my father's way is one thing; crossing Kelly Van Der Lyden is suicide."

"Suicide?"

"She's a total psycho."

"Why would the stables employ a psychopath; shouldn't she be institutionalised?"

Ashleigh's eyebrows rose.

"Not medically," she corrected slowly. "Just in personality."

"Of course, sorry."

Ashleigh took a deep breath. "I heard what you said to my dad," she revealed, eyeing the scientist, "…about Phoebe. Is it really true? All of it?"

Brennan nodded.

The girl's eyes welled. "She was nice."

"Were you friends with her?"

"No," she replied quickly. "It's just weird, you know? I mean, I saw her every day. That's all."

Brennan could sense that she was uncomfortable, so she changed direction. "What can you tell me about Kelly?"

Ashleigh seemed to speak as if the whole world was watching, when she replied lowly with, "She's nasty. She has a horrible temper — sometimes, when she's angry, she hits the horses. Or, if there isn't an animal nearby, she'll strike a person instead."

"Why hasn't anyone reported her?"

"Why didn't Hitler go to jail?" The teenager fired back rhetorically. "Look, it's the way the world works; people that are higher up in the pecking order don't get dobbed on."

"Dobbed?"

"'Told on,' if that makes more sense, then." She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, and slouched her shoulders. "Look, I really don't want to say anything else."

"Then why did you say anything in the first place?" Brennan folded her arms across her chest.

"Because Phoebe was a good person, and she didn't deserve to be…murdered." Ashleigh seemed to almost choke on the last word.

"Ashleigh!" A booming female voice called out.

"Is that her?" Brennan asked warily.

The girl's eyes widened with worry. "You need to leave," she warned.

Brennan didn't take heed.

"Go!" Ashleigh urged desperately. "Down the end of the aisle, there's a red door; it's the feed room. At the back, you'll see a small door that we use to bring in new stock. Use it, and get out!"

Reluctantly, Brennan went to move towards the exit; not because she wanted to, but the evident panic in her companion's voice made her skeptical. Just as she turned on her heel to walk, another's stopped.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Brennan's heart leapt; not because she was afraid, but because the woman's tone and address made her skin crawl. Intuition said that this person was the murderer. And, for one of the first times in her life, she was gladly happy to follow it.

Swivelling slowly, she took in Kelly's personality from head to toe; apparel, to the bitter, nasty twist her mouth and iron set of her jaw.

"Answer me, bitch," she sneered.

Brennan's eyes narrowed. "Try addressing me more politely, and then I might tell you."

"Fuck off."

"Don't speak to me like that."

"What? You're going to fucking make me?"

"And all ill-bred people wonder why their looked down on," Brennan scoffed, anger rising in her chest.

"Snob-ass rich bitch. Get out of my face. Get out of my stables." She took a threatening step closer.

Brennan stood her ground. "Make me; I have my rights. And I'm here for a very important reason-"

Kelly took another step closer. "You're all the same. Rich bloody snobs. What; do you want to buy up this business too?"

Brennan looked at her incredulously. "I'm a forensic anthropologist, not an elitist business person who has come to steal away you life's work, for god's sakes."

She settled down. "You're not?"

"No, I'm not. I've come to talk to you about Phoebe Caullts-"

"I don't want anything to do with her," she answered quickly. "Piss off, while I still allow it."

"Miss Van Der Lyden-"

Kelly took a threatening step forward. "Leave now, or I'll make you."

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Brennan warned.

"What? Afraid I'd scratch your pretty little face?" she retorted. "Last chance, princess."

The anthropologist was immovable.

Kelly struck out at her, but Brennan caught her arm swiftly and sent her propelling towards the ground. Bending the limb behind her back, she held her down with her foot. "Go and try that again," the doctor hissed through her teeth. "I dare you."

Kelly was quiet for a moment, other than her huffing and puffing. "All right!" she coughed ultimately. "All right! Let go of me. I'm sorry."

Brennan slackened just the slightest.

Kelly took her opportunity. Springing to her feet, she lurched at Brennan and gutted her, pushing her up against the door of a stall. Back hitting the large bolt, Brennan gasped for air, winded. Booth, she thought inwardly, where are you? Followed by the unbidden, this wasn't a good idea…

The trainer put her hands on her hips, and stared her down. "Go to Juvenile for a couple of years," she explicated darkly, "and you pick a few things up."

Brennan's opponent paced in front of her. As she watched her, she discerned a vice: something was wrong with the woman's stride; it was somewhat laboured.

Her right knee was stiff.

She could take her down.

Fighting with all the strength she could muster, Brennan struck Kelly's leg painfully with a powerful kick.

The woman screamed in agony, and doubled over.

"What did it, Kelly?" she puffed. "Is it ligament damage? A sprain?"

"Stupid cow."

"A cow did it?" Brennan knew that the insult had been meant for her, but she brushed it off. "Or perhaps it was one of the other animals that you beat. I can't sympathise with you, though; they've got the right idea."

"Rot in hell."

"I don't believe in hell, but you will."

Kelly spat at her, and scrambled to her feet. She was just about to go for Brennan again, when a voice yelled out.

"Don't you dare touch her!"

Brennan sighed inwardly with relief.

Booth.

- ~ B&B~ -

"She touched me first!" Kelly pointed a thin finger at Brennan.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "How old are we?"

"She's my partner. I'm FBI; I wouldn't be pointing fingers in your position." He flipped open his badge. "Now, I'd just like to ask you a few questions."

"I'd like to get some ice first, if you would be so kind," she said evenly, scorning his manners.

Brennan's jaw dropped. "Why couldn't you speak to me that politely?"

Kelly shrugged. "You were a bitch."

"You don't even know me!" she exclaimed in her defence.

"Yeah, but I know your type."

"That's no excuse for foul manners!"

"Bones," Booth cautioned quietly, wishing for no more than peace.

Brennan took a deep breath. "Fine." As Kelly began to walk away, and they followed her, she muttered under her breath to her partner, "She did actually touch me first; she tried to take me down."

"I know, Bones."

"Can you charge her?"

He chuckled. "I think she's already paid the price."

Brennan frowned. "Perhaps, but she hasn't learnt from the experience."

"Touché."

Kelly returned to them, pressing an icepack to her ribcage. "You're a damn good kicker," she muttered, wincing. "You a soccer player?"

"I have practised karate and other asian arts of defence."

"Right…" Kelly turned her attention to Booth. "What is it that you want?" Her eyes did something funny.

Did she just wink at him? Irritation bubbled jealously in Brennan's stomach.

Booth revealed a photograph of the victim. "Phoebe Caultts."

"What about her?"

"How would you describe your relationship?" Booth questioned.

"Distant. I never really spoke with her much." She took a step closer to Booth. "But I'd like to speak more with you…"

"Okay, back-off," Brennan cut in, unable to curb her tongue. "He's taken."

Kelly's mouth screwed stubbornly. "Do you think that's ever stopped me before?"

Brennan shuddered.

"Woah, woah, ladies, c'mon." Booth placed his hands out, palms facing them defensively. When he thought Kelly wasn't looking, he winked at his partner. "Ms Van Der Lyden -"

The woman in question was suddenly summoned. "Kelly!"

Her head tore towards the source of the sound. "Yeah?"

"Honey's building up a sweat again!"

"So?"

"I think we need the vet…"

Kelly sighed, and look at the partners. "Can we do this later?"

Booth shook his head. "This is a murder investigation, we can't do laters-"

"Murder or not, I need to attend to that horse, or there'll be another death for you to investigate." Kelly was already moving away.

"You're not surprised?" Booth followed her a little.

"Surprised about what?"

"The fact that your employee…or co-worker was murdered."

Kelly turned around. "Look, this is probably going to sound like the most horrible thing I've said in my life-"

"I doubt it," Brennan interjected.

The trainer flashed her a glare, and continued. "…That girl wasn't worth more than this horse I gotta tend to, and I don't feel remorse for saying so."

"What's wrong with the it [the horse]?" Booth asked.

"Bad leg," she replied simply. "Looks like it'll have to meet the Green Dream."

"Kelly!" The desperate voice came again.

"Don't go anywhere; we'll need you again for further questioning…" he trailed off, as she began to jog away.

"She won't run," Brennan assured him, when he was out of ear shot. "Ironic, because is what she's actually doing, though."

"How do you know?"

"She was in the Juvie system when she was younger; this job is probably all she has." Brennan paused after she said this, deliberating something that had come to her attention. "Did you see a girl, when you came in and saved the day?"

Booth shook his head. "No, why?"

"There was…" She sighed. "Never mind. Let's get out of here."

- ~ B&B ~ -

"You know we'll have to back there at some stage," Booth told her, after they had been travelling for ten minutes or so.

"I know. But I think you should do the talking from now on."

He chuckled. "Giving up on being the detective already, eh?"

She shook her head in defeat. "You're right; people aren't my strong point."

"I think you're pretty good with people, Bones," he contradicted.

Brennan remembered her fight with Kelly.

Booth's thoughts seemed to be on the same wavelength, because he assured her with, "That woman was a psycho; I think your brawl was kind of inevitable."

Brennan remembered the girl. "Booth..."

"Yeah?"

"I met Blake's daughter - she's who I was with before you came."

"Oh yeah, what was she like?"

"Seventeen. Strong. But she was afraid of Kelly. She was upset when I told her about Phoebe, too, even though she brushed it off."

He nodded, taking it in. "I'll have a chat to her next time. Now, lets not talk work anymore. Just relax." He switched on the stereo, and found the common pop station.

While he hummed along quietly to the radio, Brennan curled against the passenger door, and massaged her temples - trying to block the ache in her back, and the throbbing in her arms. Though she had met the stall door with quite some force, she knew that the majority of he pain was owed to her tumble back into the stall.

She couldn't tell Booth about it; he was extremely protective, and would most likely over react. Vowing on silence, she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Are you okay, baby?"

She smiled tiredly. "Just exhausted." It wasn't a lie; not entirely, anyway. "I'm so glad that it's Sunday tomorrow."

Booth's expression shifted.

"What is it?" She wondered aloud at his change.

"Nothing's the matter."

She gave him a reproachful look.

He lifted his shoulders, and dropped them in defeat. "I don't get to spend the night with you," he revealed. "That's all."

Brennan's eyes melted, and her face softened. "You know we spend the weekends apart, Booth. It was a mutual agreement."

"Yeah, but what if it didn't have to be that way?"

A brick shifted on Brennan's wall of defence. "What do you mean?"

"I hate spending time away from you," he told her, ultimately, unashamed. "I don't like that I miss out on seeing you when we have free time."

"But you have church, and then Parker, and I have-"

"Nothing," he finished for her. "You have work, when you make it. I'm just saying, make me your weekends. And then, maybe during the week, if our workload is hectic, we can spend a night apart…or not." He added the two words with a secretive smile.

She smiled sweetly. "I thought that was a marriage proposal for a moment."

A glitter of glee danced in his eyes. "What if it were?"

"But it wasn't," she said a little too firmly.

The glitter disappeared.

"Not that I wouldn't marry you," she amended quickly. "Booth, I love you. Don't mistaken my being cautious as a reason for you to see doubt in our relationship, please."

He reached over and grasped a hand that rested on her lap. Giving it a squeeze, he murmured, "It's okay, baby. I know." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

The light was just beginning to fade, as they pulled over to Brennan's apartment complex.

"Park underneath," she urged him. "I want you to come in."

Grinning widely, he complied. "Does this mean that you agree with me about what I said…?"

After collecting their things, the two headed towards the stairs.

"Would I have invited you home if I didn't?" She moved closer to him, so that their hands brushed with each stride.

He wrapped a free arm around he waist.

"Thanks, beautiful."

They stopped at the lift, and she gazed up at him. "Sure." Reaching up to meet his lips, she smiled beneath them when he met her kiss amorously.

He was her weekend. All other worries, and physical pain evaporated, and she allowed herself to become lost in the moment.

Hope you like :) x I'll start working away on my poor little keyboard and try not to keep you guys waiting - btw, it gets good! ;) as always, love my reviews! - reviews = inspire. I write for you guys! I know that this isn't a 'current story' - because there's no baby Christine, or *shudders* that son-of-a-Pelant - I hate that guy so much... ( ! - and what-not, and I don't really expect you to, but I would love to know if you are out there, all the same! x cheers guys! xx