Red Fish, Blue Fish (8/?)
Title: Red Fish, Blue Fish
Author: merrymeerkat
Rating: T
Pairings: Eventual Brennan/Booth and some mild Hodgins/Angela
Disclaimer: "Bones," characters, and events and locations related thereto are the property of Fox and Kathy Reichs. No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.
Summary: The star witness in a multi-million dollar tax fraud case goes missing. Three months later, a body turns up at a construction site, wearing her clothing. After their preliminary investigation Booth and Bones are off to the scene of the crime, but the clues lead them on a wild chase - through Michigan, southern Ontario, and back to Washington, DC. Will they be fast enough to catch the killer without losing one of their own?
Notes: Each chapter has been read and beta-read by ani8; insert eternal gratitude here.
( Chapter One)
( Chapter Two)
( Chapter Three)
( Chapter Four)
( Chapter Five)
( Chapter Six)
( Chapter Seven)
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our final descent into Detroit. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables to the upright position.”
Brennan put down the novel she'd been reading and half-rolled her neck. Normally even long flights didn't bother her, but this one had been particularly tiresome. Zach had spent most of the trip taking notes on the couple from the airport, who had disappeared into the bathroom - together - twenty minutes into the flight. Booth had peppered him with questions about how the model worked for about five minutes before losing interest entirely, turning his attention to attempting to read over her shoulder.
Ten minutes later the 'couple' emerged and went back to their separate seats - and Temperance realized they weren't a couple at all but merely two strangers who had happened to share a flight. She couldn't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy at the ease of their whirlwind relationship - it had been too long, she realized, since she had connected with anyone on an intimate physical level, however superficially. In other words, as Angela would have said, she needed to get laid.
Maybe after this case.
Carefully tucking the novel into her carry-on, she did a quick check around her seat to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Then she slowly straightened up and nudged with first one elbow, then the other. “Guys, wake up. We're landing and my shoulders are bruising.” Besides, she felt like some kind of oversized pillow, which was silly. She was a lot bonier than any pillow had a right to be - they couldn't possibly have been comfortable, slouched over like that.
Zach woke immediately, blushing and stammering. “Sorry, Dr. Brennan,” he said sheepishly, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “I've always hated air travel.”
Booth, on the other hand, had taken her sharp jab to the solar plexus in stride. He grunted in his sleep, but otherwise did not stir from his position. Frustrated that he could invade her personal space even while unconscious, Brennan cupped his forehead in her hand and pushed none-too-gently until his head thunked softly against the window.
That woke him up. “Ow! Bones!”
She crossed her arms defensively. “Well, next time don't use me as a pillow!”
“I didn't!” Booth protested, rubbing the side of his head gently. “Just a head rest.”
Brennan resisted the urge to hit him with the flimsy airline-provided pillow and just rolled her eyes.
Half an hour later they were on the ground in Detroit, waiting for their luggage to come through the baggage claim. The impromptu couple from the plane were now at opposite ends of the conveyor, studiously avoiding each other's eyes. Maybe random sexual encounters with strangers were to be avoided, after all.
She had just switched her cell phone on again and was checking her voicemail when Booth appeared with their suitcases, Zach in tow. “You ready?”
She nodded; mobile pressed to her ear, made a token attempt to take her own suitcase, and followed him to the car rental counter.
There were only two messages - the first, from Russ, was a well-meant but an ultimately unnecessary warning to stay out of the less savoury parts of Detroit. The second was from Angela.
“Hi Brenn, it's me. Hodgins found an earring we missed on Allison's jacket; he thinks it was in her pocket at one point. I'm sending you a picture. Come home soon Hodgins is driving me crazy!” Pause. “Oops, gotta go, I think he heard me. Bye, sweetie!”
She hung up, scrolling down her menu to find the picture Angela had sent. It was a hoop earring with multicoloured beads dangling from the bottom. Why had it been in the girl's pocket, and not in her ear? Perhaps the other earring had been lost or broken, and Allison had removed this one in compensation.
Speculation wasn't likely to be productive, so Brennan shut her cell phone and turned to Zach. “Where is your sister meeting you?”
He looked around. “She said she'd meet me at the coffee bar--”
Zach was cut off in the middle of his sentence by a pair of thin, pale arms wrapped around his neck and their matching legs around his waist. “Oof!”
Admirably, he did not fall flat onto the floor - a fact which flew in the face of the laws of physics. “Zachary Jason! I can't believe you're finally home!” There was an eardrum-piercing squeal.
“Can't... breathe,” Zach gasped, and the girl dropped to the floor. Brennan saw that she had the same lanky frame and round face, but her attitude was not something she had ever seen on Zach.
“And you brought a friend,” she added appreciatively as Booth turned away from the car rental counter. She stuck out her hand, and that, Brennan couldn't help but notice, wasn't the only thing. “Ruth Addy, but you can call me Roo.”
Booth raised his eyebrows and looked at Zach. “Are you sure you're related?” But he shook the girl's hand. Much as he might be inclined to rudeness around scientists and other males, he would never alienate a woman. Anthropologically speaking, Brennan mused, that wasn't so odd. “Special Agent Seeley Booth. You coming with me, Bones?”
As nervous as it made her, she wasn't. “No, I'm going to meet Zach's family. Pick us up at eight?”
He nodded, and before he'd even turned around Ruth's attention shifted. “Omigosh! You're Dr. Brennan! Zach will not shut up about you! Can I have your autograph?”
Against her will, Temperance felt her lips twitch into a smile. “I had no idea I was so famous.” Poor Zach looked like he'd spent a week in the Sahara, his face was so red. “Maybe once we get to wherever it is we're going?”
“Southfield,” Ruth answered, falling into step on the other side of Zach, her arm linked through his. “It's not too far from here but there's no telling what the traffic's like. You're lucky; construction's almost done for the season...”
Slowly but surely, Brennan filtered her out. “Is she always like this?” she whispered.
“Drama student,” Zach whispered back. “Does she remind you of anyone?”
Temperance took in the dark hair, the perfect hair and make up, and the bubbly attitude with a slight smile. “You should bring her to meet Angela.”
*
The early morning sunshine seeping through the blinds was not, in fact, what woke Temperance Brennan from her sleep the next morning. Nor was it the rooster crowing on top of the hen house.
It was, in fact, her body's own natural reaction to the dream she was having that roused her from unconsciousness.
The dream itself had started out innocuously enough. Well, innocuous in a way. She had been back in her office with Booth the day previously; only this time they were both naked. Strangely enough, they were having the same conversation that they had had yesterday, except backwards. When the conversation ended (started?), they walked backwards down the hall and Booth went into Cam's office.
“Neither do you.” Booth's voice, harsh and bitter.
Then Cam, almost vicious in intensity, and colder than Temperance remembered: “She doesn't love you.”
“Then why did you bother?”
“So, the truth comes out. I knew this would happen!”
“I don't like the person I am when I'm with you. I didn't like sneaking around, but more than that I don't like the fact that I'd rather sneak around than come clean.”
After that, the dream started up in sequential order again, but now Temperance was wearing the black dress from their undercover case in Las Vegas. When Booth left the office he was wearing the stained tank-top he'd worn in the ring and his Christmas boxers. But he didn't close his eyes and lean against the door - he saw her standing there, uncomfortable in her dress, and moved towards her. “That's hot,” he growled in his “Tony” voice.
Then he kissed her.
It was at this point that Brennan sat straight up in bed, suddenly wide, wide awake. Suddenly the question of whom, exactly, Booth and Cam had been referring to during that conversation was foremost in her mind. Illogically, impossibly, she had the sudden realization that she might just want it to be her.
Pushing that fleeting thought aside, she stood and stretched, wishing she had been able to sleep past - she glanced at her watch - six thirty. She made the bed more out of habit than because she was a good guest, and then smothered a yawn with one hand. The room, while cosy, made her eyes tired. It had once belonged to Zach's twin older sisters, and was done entirely in shades of pink. The adjacent bathroom, which she now wandered into, shared the theme. Pink. Lots of pink. Pink towels, pink shower curtain, pink bathmat; even the antibacterial soap by the sink was bubblegum pink.
Seven minutes later Brennan stepped out of the shower with a slight sigh. She had hoped that the hot water would help to erase the memories of her dream, but this one seemed particularly stubborn. She was suddenly comforted by the fact that she didn't believe in psychology.
Quietly, she made her way down to the kitchen.
“Dr. Brennan! You're up early!”
Zach's mother was standing over a hot frying pan, wearing flannel pyjamas and a terrycloth robe. Luckily, she didn't seem self-conscious in the least. “Would you like some pancakes? Coffee?”
“Thank you. Are you always up this early?”
Maxine smiled, handing her a cup of coffee. “It's a habit I got into when the kids were small. Before seven o'clock was the only time I'd have to myself sometimes.” The smile grew a little bit sad. “Now that they're mostly out of the house, I miss the chaos.”
“I think I know what you mean.” They ate in relative quiet for a few minutes. “These pancakes are excellent.”
“Thank you, Doctor, but it's my husband who's the real expert. It's his recipe.”
It was odd, Brennan thought, that she could sit here in the kitchen of a woman she barely knew and make small talk about pancakes. Maybe her people skills weren't so bad after all, or maybe Maxine's were just that good. “Please, call me Temperance.” She paused and smiled a little. “At least when Zach's not around.”
Maxine chuckled. “He was quite taken with you in the beginning, you know. He has trouble relating to most people because he's so intelligent.”
Blushing, Temperance fought the urge to duck her head. She wasn't entirely sure this was a conversation she wanted to have, after all.
She was saved from having to answer by a scratching at the back door. Maxine stood quickly. “Oh, my goodness. I forgot to feed the chickens. Could you give me a hand?”
Well, this would be an interesting experience. Suddenly she felt like she had been transported back to 1950s America. “Sure.”
The scratching at the door turned out to be an aging sheepdog, half-blind, from the way it kept bumping into things and arthritic by its gait. “That'll get Zach up,” Maxine smiled, and led the way to the hen house.
Maxine handed her a small pail of dry feed. “Just give them a few handfuls of this,” she instructed, and suddenly looked a little guilty, “and while they're out there I'll rob the nests.”
Brennan couldn't help herself. “Does it bother you to take their eggs?” she asked, letting herself into the pen and scattering the feed. The hens and chicks scrambled over, pecking the ground and each other in their haste.
With a wry look, the other woman explained, “It's one thing to do it myself every morning, but something altogether different when someone watches you do it. It makes you think of your own kids.”
She spread another handful of ground corn. “I wouldn't know what that's like. I don't have any children.”
Maxine laughed. “Want to borrow a few?”
Frowning, Brennan asked, “But you love your children. Why would you want to get rid of them?” Having finished with the feeding, she let herself back out of the gate.
Maxine was shaking her head. “I wouldn't - I said borrow!” But she was still smiling, so evidently the question hadn't offended her. “I can certainly see why Zach was taken with you.”
Inside, Zach and Ruth were sitting at the breakfast table, devouring a stack of pancakes. Or, more appropriately, Zach was devouring and Ruth was going through what Brennan recognized as a monologue from Faust. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that she was wearing very small pyjamas.
“Till swol'n with cunning, of a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow;
For, falling to a devilish exercise,
And glutted now with learning's golden gifts,
He surfeits upon cursed necromancy,” Ruth heaved, then lowered her voice so that Temperance leaned forward unconsciously to hear the rest, though she knew this introduction by heart:
“Nothing so sweet as magic is to him,
Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss:
And this the man that in his study sits.”
Brennan's impulse to applaud was interrupted by a knock at the door. Through the glass, she could clearly see her partner, suit and sunglasses and all. There was a Cadillac Escalade parked in the driveway behind him; apparently he was taking liberties with vehicle rentals again.
“Is that your partner?” Maxine asked as her daughter spun around and flounced to the door.
“Yes, that's Agent Booth.”
Maxine smiled a bit in his general direction. “Poor Zach.”
Temperance was pretty sure she understood what the older woman was getting at, and flushed an uncharacteristically bright red.
Booth came in at Ruth's obvious insistence and was introduced to Maxine formally. “Agent Booth. Can I offer you some breakfast? That is, if Zach hasn't eaten it all.”
He gave her his patented charm smile. Brennan really wished he wouldn't do that when she was in the room. “It smells delicious, but unfortunately, we're on a deadline. Are you two ready?”
They nodded and stood. “Thank you for breakfast, Maxine, and for the room. It was nice to meet you.”
“Oh, likewise. Come back any time. See you tonight, Zach!”
Brennan waved as they disappeared out the door.
*
Please remember to review!
Author: merrymeerkat
Rating: T
Pairings: Eventual Brennan/Booth and some mild Hodgins/Angela
Disclaimer: "Bones," characters, and events and locations related thereto are the property of Fox and Kathy Reichs. No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.
Summary: The star witness in a multi-million dollar tax fraud case goes missing. Three months later, a body turns up at a construction site, wearing her clothing. After their preliminary investigation Booth and Bones are off to the scene of the crime, but the clues lead them on a wild chase - through Michigan, southern Ontario, and back to Washington, DC. Will they be fast enough to catch the killer without losing one of their own?
Notes: Each chapter has been read and beta-read by ani8; insert eternal gratitude here.
( Chapter One)
( Chapter Two)
( Chapter Three)
( Chapter Four)
( Chapter Five)
( Chapter Six)
( Chapter Seven)
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our final descent into Detroit. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables to the upright position.”
Brennan put down the novel she'd been reading and half-rolled her neck. Normally even long flights didn't bother her, but this one had been particularly tiresome. Zach had spent most of the trip taking notes on the couple from the airport, who had disappeared into the bathroom - together - twenty minutes into the flight. Booth had peppered him with questions about how the model worked for about five minutes before losing interest entirely, turning his attention to attempting to read over her shoulder.
Ten minutes later the 'couple' emerged and went back to their separate seats - and Temperance realized they weren't a couple at all but merely two strangers who had happened to share a flight. She couldn't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy at the ease of their whirlwind relationship - it had been too long, she realized, since she had connected with anyone on an intimate physical level, however superficially. In other words, as Angela would have said, she needed to get laid.
Maybe after this case.
Carefully tucking the novel into her carry-on, she did a quick check around her seat to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Then she slowly straightened up and nudged with first one elbow, then the other. “Guys, wake up. We're landing and my shoulders are bruising.” Besides, she felt like some kind of oversized pillow, which was silly. She was a lot bonier than any pillow had a right to be - they couldn't possibly have been comfortable, slouched over like that.
Zach woke immediately, blushing and stammering. “Sorry, Dr. Brennan,” he said sheepishly, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “I've always hated air travel.”
Booth, on the other hand, had taken her sharp jab to the solar plexus in stride. He grunted in his sleep, but otherwise did not stir from his position. Frustrated that he could invade her personal space even while unconscious, Brennan cupped his forehead in her hand and pushed none-too-gently until his head thunked softly against the window.
That woke him up. “Ow! Bones!”
She crossed her arms defensively. “Well, next time don't use me as a pillow!”
“I didn't!” Booth protested, rubbing the side of his head gently. “Just a head rest.”
Brennan resisted the urge to hit him with the flimsy airline-provided pillow and just rolled her eyes.
Half an hour later they were on the ground in Detroit, waiting for their luggage to come through the baggage claim. The impromptu couple from the plane were now at opposite ends of the conveyor, studiously avoiding each other's eyes. Maybe random sexual encounters with strangers were to be avoided, after all.
She had just switched her cell phone on again and was checking her voicemail when Booth appeared with their suitcases, Zach in tow. “You ready?”
She nodded; mobile pressed to her ear, made a token attempt to take her own suitcase, and followed him to the car rental counter.
There were only two messages - the first, from Russ, was a well-meant but an ultimately unnecessary warning to stay out of the less savoury parts of Detroit. The second was from Angela.
“Hi Brenn, it's me. Hodgins found an earring we missed on Allison's jacket; he thinks it was in her pocket at one point. I'm sending you a picture. Come home soon Hodgins is driving me crazy!” Pause. “Oops, gotta go, I think he heard me. Bye, sweetie!”
She hung up, scrolling down her menu to find the picture Angela had sent. It was a hoop earring with multicoloured beads dangling from the bottom. Why had it been in the girl's pocket, and not in her ear? Perhaps the other earring had been lost or broken, and Allison had removed this one in compensation.
Speculation wasn't likely to be productive, so Brennan shut her cell phone and turned to Zach. “Where is your sister meeting you?”
He looked around. “She said she'd meet me at the coffee bar--”
Zach was cut off in the middle of his sentence by a pair of thin, pale arms wrapped around his neck and their matching legs around his waist. “Oof!”
Admirably, he did not fall flat onto the floor - a fact which flew in the face of the laws of physics. “Zachary Jason! I can't believe you're finally home!” There was an eardrum-piercing squeal.
“Can't... breathe,” Zach gasped, and the girl dropped to the floor. Brennan saw that she had the same lanky frame and round face, but her attitude was not something she had ever seen on Zach.
“And you brought a friend,” she added appreciatively as Booth turned away from the car rental counter. She stuck out her hand, and that, Brennan couldn't help but notice, wasn't the only thing. “Ruth Addy, but you can call me Roo.”
Booth raised his eyebrows and looked at Zach. “Are you sure you're related?” But he shook the girl's hand. Much as he might be inclined to rudeness around scientists and other males, he would never alienate a woman. Anthropologically speaking, Brennan mused, that wasn't so odd. “Special Agent Seeley Booth. You coming with me, Bones?”
As nervous as it made her, she wasn't. “No, I'm going to meet Zach's family. Pick us up at eight?”
He nodded, and before he'd even turned around Ruth's attention shifted. “Omigosh! You're Dr. Brennan! Zach will not shut up about you! Can I have your autograph?”
Against her will, Temperance felt her lips twitch into a smile. “I had no idea I was so famous.” Poor Zach looked like he'd spent a week in the Sahara, his face was so red. “Maybe once we get to wherever it is we're going?”
“Southfield,” Ruth answered, falling into step on the other side of Zach, her arm linked through his. “It's not too far from here but there's no telling what the traffic's like. You're lucky; construction's almost done for the season...”
Slowly but surely, Brennan filtered her out. “Is she always like this?” she whispered.
“Drama student,” Zach whispered back. “Does she remind you of anyone?”
Temperance took in the dark hair, the perfect hair and make up, and the bubbly attitude with a slight smile. “You should bring her to meet Angela.”
*
The early morning sunshine seeping through the blinds was not, in fact, what woke Temperance Brennan from her sleep the next morning. Nor was it the rooster crowing on top of the hen house.
It was, in fact, her body's own natural reaction to the dream she was having that roused her from unconsciousness.
The dream itself had started out innocuously enough. Well, innocuous in a way. She had been back in her office with Booth the day previously; only this time they were both naked. Strangely enough, they were having the same conversation that they had had yesterday, except backwards. When the conversation ended (started?), they walked backwards down the hall and Booth went into Cam's office.
“Neither do you.” Booth's voice, harsh and bitter.
Then Cam, almost vicious in intensity, and colder than Temperance remembered: “She doesn't love you.”
“Then why did you bother?”
“So, the truth comes out. I knew this would happen!”
“I don't like the person I am when I'm with you. I didn't like sneaking around, but more than that I don't like the fact that I'd rather sneak around than come clean.”
After that, the dream started up in sequential order again, but now Temperance was wearing the black dress from their undercover case in Las Vegas. When Booth left the office he was wearing the stained tank-top he'd worn in the ring and his Christmas boxers. But he didn't close his eyes and lean against the door - he saw her standing there, uncomfortable in her dress, and moved towards her. “That's hot,” he growled in his “Tony” voice.
Then he kissed her.
It was at this point that Brennan sat straight up in bed, suddenly wide, wide awake. Suddenly the question of whom, exactly, Booth and Cam had been referring to during that conversation was foremost in her mind. Illogically, impossibly, she had the sudden realization that she might just want it to be her.
Pushing that fleeting thought aside, she stood and stretched, wishing she had been able to sleep past - she glanced at her watch - six thirty. She made the bed more out of habit than because she was a good guest, and then smothered a yawn with one hand. The room, while cosy, made her eyes tired. It had once belonged to Zach's twin older sisters, and was done entirely in shades of pink. The adjacent bathroom, which she now wandered into, shared the theme. Pink. Lots of pink. Pink towels, pink shower curtain, pink bathmat; even the antibacterial soap by the sink was bubblegum pink.
Seven minutes later Brennan stepped out of the shower with a slight sigh. She had hoped that the hot water would help to erase the memories of her dream, but this one seemed particularly stubborn. She was suddenly comforted by the fact that she didn't believe in psychology.
Quietly, she made her way down to the kitchen.
“Dr. Brennan! You're up early!”
Zach's mother was standing over a hot frying pan, wearing flannel pyjamas and a terrycloth robe. Luckily, she didn't seem self-conscious in the least. “Would you like some pancakes? Coffee?”
“Thank you. Are you always up this early?”
Maxine smiled, handing her a cup of coffee. “It's a habit I got into when the kids were small. Before seven o'clock was the only time I'd have to myself sometimes.” The smile grew a little bit sad. “Now that they're mostly out of the house, I miss the chaos.”
“I think I know what you mean.” They ate in relative quiet for a few minutes. “These pancakes are excellent.”
“Thank you, Doctor, but it's my husband who's the real expert. It's his recipe.”
It was odd, Brennan thought, that she could sit here in the kitchen of a woman she barely knew and make small talk about pancakes. Maybe her people skills weren't so bad after all, or maybe Maxine's were just that good. “Please, call me Temperance.” She paused and smiled a little. “At least when Zach's not around.”
Maxine chuckled. “He was quite taken with you in the beginning, you know. He has trouble relating to most people because he's so intelligent.”
Blushing, Temperance fought the urge to duck her head. She wasn't entirely sure this was a conversation she wanted to have, after all.
She was saved from having to answer by a scratching at the back door. Maxine stood quickly. “Oh, my goodness. I forgot to feed the chickens. Could you give me a hand?”
Well, this would be an interesting experience. Suddenly she felt like she had been transported back to 1950s America. “Sure.”
The scratching at the door turned out to be an aging sheepdog, half-blind, from the way it kept bumping into things and arthritic by its gait. “That'll get Zach up,” Maxine smiled, and led the way to the hen house.
Maxine handed her a small pail of dry feed. “Just give them a few handfuls of this,” she instructed, and suddenly looked a little guilty, “and while they're out there I'll rob the nests.”
Brennan couldn't help herself. “Does it bother you to take their eggs?” she asked, letting herself into the pen and scattering the feed. The hens and chicks scrambled over, pecking the ground and each other in their haste.
With a wry look, the other woman explained, “It's one thing to do it myself every morning, but something altogether different when someone watches you do it. It makes you think of your own kids.”
She spread another handful of ground corn. “I wouldn't know what that's like. I don't have any children.”
Maxine laughed. “Want to borrow a few?”
Frowning, Brennan asked, “But you love your children. Why would you want to get rid of them?” Having finished with the feeding, she let herself back out of the gate.
Maxine was shaking her head. “I wouldn't - I said borrow!” But she was still smiling, so evidently the question hadn't offended her. “I can certainly see why Zach was taken with you.”
Inside, Zach and Ruth were sitting at the breakfast table, devouring a stack of pancakes. Or, more appropriately, Zach was devouring and Ruth was going through what Brennan recognized as a monologue from Faust. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that she was wearing very small pyjamas.
“Till swol'n with cunning, of a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow;
For, falling to a devilish exercise,
And glutted now with learning's golden gifts,
He surfeits upon cursed necromancy,” Ruth heaved, then lowered her voice so that Temperance leaned forward unconsciously to hear the rest, though she knew this introduction by heart:
“Nothing so sweet as magic is to him,
Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss:
And this the man that in his study sits.”
Brennan's impulse to applaud was interrupted by a knock at the door. Through the glass, she could clearly see her partner, suit and sunglasses and all. There was a Cadillac Escalade parked in the driveway behind him; apparently he was taking liberties with vehicle rentals again.
“Is that your partner?” Maxine asked as her daughter spun around and flounced to the door.
“Yes, that's Agent Booth.”
Maxine smiled a bit in his general direction. “Poor Zach.”
Temperance was pretty sure she understood what the older woman was getting at, and flushed an uncharacteristically bright red.
Booth came in at Ruth's obvious insistence and was introduced to Maxine formally. “Agent Booth. Can I offer you some breakfast? That is, if Zach hasn't eaten it all.”
He gave her his patented charm smile. Brennan really wished he wouldn't do that when she was in the room. “It smells delicious, but unfortunately, we're on a deadline. Are you two ready?”
They nodded and stood. “Thank you for breakfast, Maxine, and for the room. It was nice to meet you.”
“Oh, likewise. Come back any time. See you tonight, Zach!”
Brennan waved as they disappeared out the door.
*
Please remember to review!