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As he entered the house, Booth noticed the high vaulted ceiling and immediately decided that he didn't like the house. The heavy light fixture dangling over them as they stood in the foyer was at least twelve feet above them. Moving further into the house, he found the carpeted floor to be a nuisance. Every time he lifted his crutches, the nap of the carpet seemed to cling to the rubber tips. Realizing that Brennan and the realtor were moving faster than he was, he tried to hurry and suddenly found himself on the floor, one of his crutches gouging into his hip. Panting, he sat up and rubbed his left hip and side gently.

A loud thud in the other room causing her concern, Brennan raced back into the living room and found her husband attempting to stand up. Hurrying over to where he was kneeling on his left knee, she knelt down beside him. "Are you alright?"

Embarrassed, Booth moved the crutches so that his hands were on the lower crossbars and stood up. His cheeks a dark rose color, he placed the crutches under his arms. "Yeah, the carpet tripped me up." Looking at the realtor who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen staring at him with widened eyes, Booth informed her, "We aren't interested in this house, thank you." Turning, he walked over to the front door, opened it and left the house.

The realtor terrified that Booth might sue her, wrung her hands. "I'm so sorry. If your husband is hurt I have insurance. Just . . . just let me know. I mean, if he needs to go to the hospital let me know."

Brennan shook her head and looked around the room one more time. "I'm sorry, but I think it would be best if we looked at another house, one without carpeted floors."

Hopeful that she could still be their realtor, she clasped her hands together. "Yes, I do have a house I'm showing that has oak floors in most of the rooms and tile in the kitchen and bathrooms."

Moving over to the doorway, Brennan advised her, "Send me the particulars in an email and Booth and I will look at it to see if we're interested." Once she exited the house, Brennan closed the door behind her.

While Booth stood next to Brennan's car, he scanned the yard and turned towards Brennan as she approached. "The yard's too small anyway. It's practically sitting next to the street."

Walking over to where Booth was standing, Brennan asked him, "Did you hurt yourself?"

He knew he better truthful, so while he opened the passenger door, Booth nodded his head. "I landed on one of the crutches so I'm pretty sure I'm going to have a bruise." Before he enteredn the car, Booth handed Brennan his crutches. "I hate carpet. It makes the house smell."

Taking the crutches from her husband, Brennan glanced back at the house."We should include that on our list of things we don't want in a house."

Booth reached over to grab the door handle. "I'm alright, Bones. Let's go home. We've looked at three houses today and all three were a letdown. We'll just check the listings and look at some more of them next weekend."

Placing the crutches in the back seat, Brennan moved around the car and entered the driver's side. "I want to look at your side and hip when we get home."

Not surprised, Booth shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, but it's nothing." Laughing Booth turned to look at his partner. "After all, I've been blown up by a refrigerator and hit a bridge with my car. If you can live through that kind of shit then you can live through anything."

Oooooooooooooooooo

On the couch, his right knee propped up on a pillow, Booth was reading Brennan's latest book when Brennan's phone rang. Letting it ring, he continued to read while the call went to the answering machine.

This is Detective Simmons. I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan that I didn't get back to you Thursday or Friday, but this is the first chance I've had to call you. I got caught up in a kidnapping case and you know that had to take precedence. Anyway, I'm just letting you know I didn't forget to call you and I plan to drop by Monday morning to get a break down of the evidence you've accumulated. I hope you have a nice Sunday evening.

Entering the room, Brennan carried the laundry basket past Booth. "It amazes me how much laundry two people can create in such a short amount of time." Spying the flashing light on her answering machine, Brennan walked over and played back the message. After hearing it, she shrugged her shoulders and carried her basket over to the laundry room. "I thought I heard the phone ring. I wonder why he didn't call me on my cell phone."

Smirking, Booth thought he knew why. "He was probably afraid you'd answer that one.' Returning back to his book, Booth didn't notice the frown on his wife's face.

Puzzled, Brennan stopped and faced her husband. "Why would Detective Simmons want to avoid speaking to me if he was the one who was calling in the first place?"

Booth placed the book down on his lap and explained. "Because he knew he needed to contact you about your case, but he's probably tired as hell and didn't want to really talk to you."

Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan entered the laundry room, placed the basket on top of the washing machine and came back into the living room. "Then he shouldn't have called me."

Bored, Booth tossed the book on the coffee table, moved his leg from the couch and patted the seat next to him. "How about sitting down and resting?"

Moving over to the couch, Brennan stared at the way Booth was holding his arm against his upper hip and and sat down. "You haven't let me see where you landed on your crutches yet."

Reluctantly, Booth stood, unzipped his pants and lowered them a little while lifting his shirt. "I caught most of it on my hip."

Placing her index finger above the bruise, Brennan shook her head. "I'm relieved that you did this on the left side of your hip and not the right. The right side of your body is still weak from the car accident. A sharp blow to the right side of your chest could have been disastrous."

Irritated, he pulled his pants up, zipped them, Booth sat down. "But it didn't and I'm okay." Holding his arm out, he wiggled his eyebrows. "So want to make out?"

Amused, Brennan sat down and leaned against him. "Well, since I'm currently done with the few chores I needed to do, I have some free time that we can use."

Kissing her, Booth smiled. "Never say I don't have perfect timing."

Her hand hovering over his chest, Brennan laughed. "I would never say that, Booth."

Oooooooooooooooo

Politely standing in the doorway of Brennan's office, Detective Simmons cleared his throat. "Hey Dr. Brennan, I thought I'd come by and you could brief me on your findings."

Placing her pen down, Brennan reached over and picked up a file. Opening it, Brennan began. "The victim is Cora Hogg. She was 73 years old at the time of her death. Even though she'd been shot, that isn't what killed her. The shot paralyzed her, but she died of lack of food and drink."

Shocked at that bit of news, Simmons sat on the chair across from Brennan and sputtered. "Oh my God. Are you telling me that someone shot her and then placed her in that wall while she was still alive? Oh my God, that's horrible."

Closing the file, she reached across her desk and handed it to the detective. "Yes, it is horrible. She was paralyzed so she was unable to move or speak. Whoever did this to her, placed her in the wall and let her die of dehydration. She died alone and in the dark."

A little sick, Simmons opened the folder and read the report. Disgusted, he closed the folder and glared at one of the skulls sitting on a shelf next to Brennan's desk. "I'm going to catch this bastard, I swear I am. My God!"

"The report contains the names of the owners of the house." Standing, Brennan handed the detective a flash drive. "Angela did some research on the home owners and on Cora Hogg and placed that information on this flash drive. Perhaps it will help you in your investigation."

Taking the flash drive, the detective gripped it tightly. "Thank you Dr. Brennan. I'll keep you informed about my investigation. Thank Angela for me. I appreciate the information. It'll give me a place to start. There is no way I'm going to let this become a cold case. I'm going to find the bastard who did this and that's a fact."

After the furious detective left the room, Brennan sat back down and continued to grade her student's latest exams.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

Her cup resting in her hand, Brennan informed Booth, "Detective Simmons was very upset when I told him how Cora Hogg died."

Shaking a sugar packet, Booth opened it and poured the contents in his coffee. "I don't blame him. I'm pretty disgusted myself. I wish I was still an FBI Agent. I'd take this case from him in a heartbeat. It just pisses me off that people can be so evil. I just . . ." Exhaling deeply, Booth shook his head. "Well, I'm not a detective anymore so it's not my headache."

Sympathetic, Brennan reached across the table and placed her hand on his hand. "Do you miss being a detective?"

Twining his fingers with hers, Booth nodded his head. "Sometimes I do. I was pretty good. With your help I had the highest solve rate in the FBI. What I did mattered." Staring at their hands, Booth sighed. "Most of the time I'm glad I don't do that anymore. It's hard dealing with other people's pain and let's face it, we had to deal with a lot of tragedy." His mind wandering, Booth didn't notice Brennan staring at him with concern.

"Booth, have you thought about going back to the FBI?" Clasping his hand tightly, Brennan waited for his answer.

His attention returning to his wife, Booth frowned. "No, I haven't. I have a great job, Bones. I get to work with you sometimes in the field and that's great. I still have a toe in the pool so it's it not like I'm completely out of the game. The way it is now though, I don't run the risk of getting shot at and neither do you. I also don't have to shoot anyone because they're holding hostages or trying to kill someone. That's someone else's responsibility and I'm glad. That kid I killed . . . I think about him sometimes. I . . ."

Interrupting him, Brennan protested, "You had to kill him, Booth. He'd murdered a teacher and a student and he threatened to kill you. You did what you had to do."

Not sure why he'd brought that up, Booth released her hand and picked up his cooling cup of coffee. "I know." Sipping his coffee, Booth chose to let it go. "Hey, did I tell you that my therapist says I might be crutchless starting next week? I may have to use a cane for a while, but I can ditch the crutches."

Happy, Brennan smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

Leaning forward, Booth nodded his head. "I know. I can't wait.

Oooooooooooooooooo

Entering Booth's office, Lester called out, "Hey Booth, some guy entered the Greek exhibit with a hammer and disfigured one of the statues. Security is holding him in their office."

Alarmed, Booth stood up and grabbed his crutches. "Did he say why he did it?"

A little gingerly, Lester held up a marble penis and coughed. "The guy considered it degenerate art and he didn't want kids to see it."

Rolling his eyes, Booth walked across the room. "What statue did he damage?"

He knew Booth was going to be upset, but he had to tell him. Glancing at the floor, Lester informed his boss, "The status of Leonidas."

Suddenly pale, Booth cursed their luck. "Fuck! That statue is on loan from the National Archaeological Museum in Athens. They are going to be pissed when they hear about it."

Shrugging his shoulders, Lester reminded him. "Not to mention the regents of the Jeffersonian."

Disgusted, Booth left his office with Lester following him. "Why the hell did I want this job?"

Staring at the broken penis in his hand, Lester sighed. "I'm beginning to wonder the same thing."

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