Heyyy!

Here's you next instalment, my awesomest readers!

Now, there's a link in this chapter to an episode from season six (because I jump in every so often and give you a bit of 'Bones' reality - just cause I'm a nice gal, and we all love HH's story lines) *cough* ***dude, you made us wait six years, so I'm smiling at you but secretly strangling you ***- metaphorically, of course (jeez, I'm not that violent!).

Anyways, who can be a clever cookie (King of the Lab! - Or Queens; whatever floats your boat!) and have a go at guessing which episode this is from, and mayyybe what it might have to do with the upcoming storyline?… (Lol, jks, I would never give away the 'O.M.G' of this baby…) ;)

Have fun!

xx ;)

27. Unforeseen Tides

It felt so good to wake naturally; to rise with the sun, with no inhibitions. Brennan knew that she would never lose the sensation that relived itself every morning, when she woke to the tender featheriness of his stroke. She loved the fact that she could fall asleep on his warm chest, and feel as though nothing else mattered but the present; that she could end and begin her days feeling more loved and cherished than any other human being could possibly feel.

On the lazy Sunday morning that it was, waking in his arms felt so natural, and soothing, she was sure that she would rather be no where else in the world for anything.

Eyes lifting without weight for the first time since she couldn't remember when, Brennan stared up to meet Booth's eyes. "Good morning," she murmured, smile creeping into her lazy tone.

He chuckled, and her body vibrated with its energy. "Morning." He kissed her sweetly.

"How did you sleep?" she asked quietly.

"Like a baby. You?"

"Like a baby." She shook with silent laughter.

"Do you want breakfast? I can cook."

"Mmm. What time is it?"

"Nearly eleven." Booth's eyes darted from the clock back to her.

Brennan's eyes widened. "You missed church!"

"I know."

"You know? But-"

"God will forgive me," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "Now, waddaya say to a shower?"

"Mmm...careful," she warned lightly. "Treat me to this much indulgence and I won't be able to draw a line between my pleasures." She kissed his cheek. "A shower sounds wonderful," she added, moving to untangle herself from the covers and sheets.

"Are you okay with just staying around here today?" Booth wondered aloud. "You don't mind not working?"

"We might be in the middle of a case, but everyone at the lab takes Sundays off…other than me. To be honest, I couldn't be more happy that I don't have to do anything today." She jumped off the bed, and headed towards her ensuite.

Pulling her white camisole over her head, yesterday's injuries had been all but forgotten until she heard her partner gasp.

"Bones," he whispered painfully. "Did Kelly do that?"

Without thinking, she replied, "No."

His cool fingers traced her bruises. "Then what did?"

"I fell yesterday."

"Fell how?"

"It's nothing," she assured him, kissing him lightly on the forehead, "and I love you all the more for worrying…but it doesn't hurt, honest."

Two cool fingers kneaded her bruised back.

She wheezed.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Booth was unimpressed, but she heard the genuine concern beneath his tone, and his regret at causing her discomfort to get his answer. "Bones," he pleaded worriedly. "Tell me."

He turned her in his arms, and she covered her torso self-consciously.

It was inevitable. Despite her vow against loose-lips, she couldn't escape it. "There was no other way to get into the stables yesterday, because the doors were locked, so I used a window that was a little high up, and when I was going through, my coat got caught, and I might have fallen down. That's all."

"You might have fallen down? Was it on the concrete?"

"It was in a horse's stall," she said quickly. "So…yes. But there was a bit of straw-"

"A horse…you fell into a horse's stall? W-with a horse inside?"

She frowned. "Isn' that what I just said…?"

"Bones!"

"Look, I know it was stupid, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And I'm fine. Honestly."

He moaned. "I wish you have told me last night, and we could have at least iced it or something."

"Maybe I should have, but you would have flipped anyway."

"I am flipping!"

"Booth," she said calmly. "I didn't want to ruin a good mood last night. It's a couple of bruises, and I'm a little sore, but I live through to see another day."

He sighed in defeat, and his hands drooped uselessly by his side. "I swear to god, I'm going to have to bubble-wrap you and label fragile before you learn to take care of yourself."

She frowned. "Metaphorically…? Because mobility would be quite difficult in plastic wrap…"

Booth smiled. "I'm your bubble-wrap. My love is your label."

"I think I understand," she replied, reaching to switch on the water for the shower.

"Don't worry." He smiled. "You will."

.

- ~ B&B ~ -

.

The following day..

"The FBI will give no further statements at the time being, for they-"

Click.

"I was watching that," Booth complained as added another teaspoon of sugar to his coffee

Brennan placed her hands on her hips. "The same story has been circulating for days now, Booth," she reasoned, putting down the remote, and diverting her attention back to spreading jam onto her toast. "Every time you watch it, it's like your beating yourself up for not finding the answers."

"That's because I am."

She sighed. "Well don't. It's Monday. A new week - start a fresh, okay?"

He submitted, and took a seat on one of her white stools. "We've had this case for over a month, Bones. We do a bit of patch-work here and there. I mean, when we first got it, we pushed it aside for a couple of weeks before we did anything else with it -"

"We were compiling evidence and an argument Blake's trial - and, if I recall correctly, that man had a law suit bigger than the nation's defence force. We were busy," she reasoned, taking a bite. "There's no time limit for justice, Booth. What if the racecourse people has begun digging for their dam in two months time, instead of a week ago? What if there had been heavy rains? What if their machinery had broken down? We wouldn't have known about Phoebe until then, now would we?"

"What's your point?"

"My point, is that, not only should you realise that the timing of this case wasn't exactly perfect - but that we could have found her in a month, or a year's time. You should have no reason to feel incompetent; we've taken our time with cases before, and we will take our time with this one."

He gulped down a mouthful of hot coffee, and exhaled sharply.

"Okay?" she pressed.

"Okay."

"Great." She took a slow bite of her breakfast, and stared off into the distance thoughtfully. Remembering something of significance, she announced, "There was this lecture today on the Peloponnesian War."

"What about it?"

"I wanted to go, originally."

"That sucks."

"Thanks for the sympathy."

"Sure thing."

Brennan glanced at her watch, and then at the clock on the wall. "We should probably get going."

Nodding, Booth tossed the remnants of his coffee down the sink, and after placing their dishes in the dishwasher, moved to find his blazer. Returning to the kitchen after an unsuccessful hunt, he didn't even need to ask.

"It's in my walk-in-robe," she told her partner with a telling shake of the head. "You left it on the ground; it was going to get creased."

He chuckled. "Was it in the bedroom?"

"Yes…"

"Then that's why."

She rolled her eyes, remembering their most recent rendezvous. As she restacked the dishwasher with their breakfast dishes, he ventured to the bedroom.

"Hold on." Brennan halted her boyfriend when they regrouped at the door minutes later. Reaching up to fix his tie, she held his eyes with an unbreakable gaze. "You're the best at what you do. You know that, right?'

Booth rewarded her with his goofy grin. "Well, I wouldn't say th-"

"Are you really going to try modesty on me? My unpretentiousness nature has got to make me the last person you should try to bother hiding your talents."

"Talents?"

"Yeah," she teased. "Talents." Using his tie as an aid, she yanked his lips down to hers.

Booth's pocket on his blazer vibrated.

"I hope that wasn't you," his partner laughed.

He shared her smile for a moment, and then whipped out his phone. Frowning, he read the caller ID. "It's Hacker."

Brennan moved her kisses to below his jaw, ignoring his words.

"Yo," Booth answered into the mobile.

The speech was too muffled on the other end of the line for Brennan to make any sense of what was being said, and Booth only humphed in response, so she continued with her distracting activity.

Her partner tried to restrain her efforts, but eventually hung up. "You are impossible!" he growled in a playful manner, though she sensed tension.

She smirked. "So I've been told. Anyway, what's up?"

Booth's lips drew into a tight line.

"I'm not going to like what you have to say, am I?" Brennan folded her arms across her chest.

He shook his head.

.

- ~ B&B ~ -

.

The FBI techs were already present when Booth pulled the deserted warehouse, and many emerged from the entrance of the building with evidence bags already full.

Brennan squinted at the contents of a couple in particular, as the workers passed them. "Is that…money?" She looked at her partner for corroboration.

He had no answer; he was in just as much surprise as she was, apparently.

The usual putrid scent stung Brennan's nostrils upon entering the dark, damp building, though instead of growing used to the stench, it hung at the back of her throat. It must be really decomposed, she assured herself. It's okay to get a bit queazy when they're really bad.

Reaching the room, she knelt down beside the victim and began examining his body. At the same moment, Caroline Julian entered.

"What are you doing here?" Brennan found herself asking, before she could prevent the blunt question.

Caroline gave her a reproachful look through narrowed eyes. "And I suppose all of this funky green stuff floatin' around don't mean much to you, does it?" She turned to Booth. "Why didn't the killer take the money?"

The agent was inspecting something intently in the wall.

"Booth?" Caroline tried again.

He turned halfway. "It's a handmade bullet," he told them, facing their persons. "The killer was never interested in the money."

The judge frowned, but the clogs of Brennan's mind were already churning when Booth replied to their unspoken question with, "It's Broadsky."

The entire forensics team seemed to freeze for the split second that they spent acknowledging the new information.

"I have an ID," Brennan informed them, breaking the spell. "Walter Sherman," she read slowly, watching the two law professions for any reaction. "Ever heard of him?"

Both shook their heads.

"He was probably a bad guy anyway," Caroline supported.

Booth grimaced. "It doesn't matter. I don't care whether he was, or not. Broadsky isn't the law, and it isn't up to him." He made for the door. "I just want this to be over, and to put the son-of-a-bitch away."

"Amen," Caroline followed his lead.

Brennan turned to the waiting techs. "You know what to do; send the remains back to The Jeffersonian, and don't forget sample of everything." She stripped her gloves and disposed of them in a plastic bag one held. Before her exit, she faced them once more. "No mistakes on this one."

They nodded in agreement.

Argh no way! Damn that Broadsky! What does this mean for B&B - trouble in paradise? (no spoilers intended) ;)

I'd love to hear from you lovelies - let me no whether you likes! (And you too anonymises! I mean, now that they've added that cool as new comment box!)

Thanks for reading guys! (and reviewing/fav/alerting) love you lots! :)x