Fic: The Senator in the Scarecrow (8/25)
Title: The Senator in the Scarecrow [Chapter Eight: The Flying Monkey]
Author: ladychi
Beta Babes: katmorning, cathmarchr
Characters/Pairings: Booth/Brennan, Hodgins/Angela, Cam, Sweets, Wendell, Clark, Parker Booth, various OCs
Rating: M for language, graphic violence and graphic sex
Summary: It's August in western Kansas and a Senator's gone missing. When a body shows up in a field of milo, the President himself wants only the best investigating the murder. Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan are both plucked unceremoniously from their lives and thrust into extreme-rural Kansas after a year apart. Takes place immediately after the year of separation in The Beginning in the End, the S5 finale. Multi-part mystery, updated every Monday.
Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven
Author's Note: Special thanks go out to ayiana2, as well as cathmarchr and katmorning. This chapter gave me absolute fits and turned out nothing like I expected it to -- but hey, there's sexytiemz in here! That's good, right? Happy Monday, everyone!
Chapter Eight: The Flying Monkey
Angela studied the skull on the table before her, Wendell's carefully-placed tissue markers paving the way for the painstaking work of putting a face to the battered remains. At first, the company of the dead had been unnatural to her, and at times it was still slightly disconcerting and oftentimes painful. A year away had rejuvenated her - washed away some of the grit and the grime that had settled on her, but it had also erased some of the numbness that had shielded her from some of the harder emotions. This first case back had been like the very first - the disgust, the horror... and the satisfaction of knowing she was helping someone's family.
With a skill that was still innate, she slowly gave the man back his face, returned some of the dignity of his life to him, and as she did, she spoke softly to herself, and to the child inside of her and the man in front of her. The three of them, involved in a conversation where Angela was the only one who spoke aloud.
She gave him back his eyes and told her daughter that she loved her father's eyes - tested blue and green and brown and all the colors in-between and saved them in different files on her computer. She shaded the skin and spoke of spring in Paris, the sweet kiss of the first rain in April that had induced the lovemaking that had conceived the child. She teased the man before her about the lovers he might have had - asked him about the wife she hoped he'd had...
Her ring caught the sunlight streaming through the window just as she saved the final touches on the final face that could belong to the man in front of her. She had a number of sketches and renderings with different combinations. She zipped them into a file and sent them to Brennan. A soft knock on her office door made her turn. She smiled softly at what she saw. “Hey, Wendell.”
He opened his arms and swept her into a hug. Just as warm and reassuring as he had been when they were dating, and smelling just as good. Angela let herself float on a wave of nostalgia and affection. They broke apart quickly, Wendell's hands cupping her face.
“You look beautiful,” he said in that honest way he had that she had always envied.
“I look fat,” she corrected with a patient smile.
“No, Angie. You look beautiful, and Hodgins is a lucky man.” He kissed her cheek. “I wanted you to know that I'm so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Wendell.” Angela tried to smile, but her eyes welled with tears. “You...”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, holding out a file. “Uh, I brought you this. We confirmed the identity of the remains this morning. It's Senator Williams.”
Angela sighed and unconsciously placed her hand on her stomach. “I had a feeling it might be. Poor guy.”
“Well. I just wanted to tell you - and the congratulations thing,” Wendell said, a little awkwardly. “It's nice to have you back.”
“It's nice to be back.” Angela smiled. “I never thought I would miss this. I guess Brennan's ruined me in the same twisted way the rest of you are ruined.
Wendell smiled. “You know, I forgot that you talk to them.”
She flushed. “What?”
“I forgot that you talk to the dead.” He shrugged. “I always liked that, you know? You never forget their humanity.”
Angela brushed her hair back from her face and was about to respond when Hodgins knocked on the door. A look of genuine delight crossed his face. “Hey Wendell! I haven't seen you around!”
The two men embraced, clasping each other on the back and pounding a few times. Hodgins broke away first. “How's it going, man?”
“Oh, it's going pretty well, actually. Did you hear we got a positive I.D in the scarecrow body?”
Hodgins' eyebrows rose. “Was it the Senator?”
“Turns out it was,” Wendell said with a nod of his head.
“Oh boy, that's going to be interesting,” Hodgins said. “It might get pretty tense around here.”
“Yeah, that's for sure. Listen, Hodgins, congratulations man,” Wendell said with a big smile. “I couldn't be happier for you and Ange.”
Hodgins' face softened. “Hey thanks, man.”
There was an awkward pause for a minute before Wendell cleared his throat. “So, uh... got anything new?”
“Yeah, actually.” Hodgins seemed to snap back awake. “All of the particulate evidence I've been able to sort through is consistent with our victim being out in the field they found him in for fourteen to sixteen hours.”
“But he wasn't killed there?”
“Particulate evidence in his defensive wounds showed nylon, wool, foam and adhesive. The nylon and wool fibers were dyed a color its manufacturer calls Ocean Blue.” Hodgins grinned. “Wherever the victim received his defensive wounds, he was in an area where they were laying carpet. Calliope Carpet, to be exact. I still have some unexplained insect activity and a few other particulates to analyze, but that's the picture I'm getting. I just let Cam know.”
“I'm looking for any other signs of trauma that would be cause of death other than the drug overdose,” Wendell said.
Angela stood and pressed a hand to her mouth. “Good to know, everyone. If you'll excuse me...”
She ran out of the office like a bat out of hell. Wendell started after her, and looked helplessly at Hodgins.
“Is she okay? Did we upset her? I didn't mean...”
“Nah, man, it's morning sickness.” Hodgins winced in sympathy. “Hits her at random times. It doesn't seem to have anything to do with what's going on around her.”
“Oh,” Wendell said, his eyes widening. “Are you going to go help her?”
“Yeah, in a minute. She doesn't want me in there for the first bit. We've got a routine.” Hodgins looked vaguely proud. “Sort of like we're in this together. Only don't tell her I said that, because she'll hit me.”
Wendell smiled. “You know, you guys are going to be great parents.”
“We're going to do our best.” Hodgins shrugged his shoulders. “It... just happened so fast, but it's better than I ever thought it would be, you know?
“Yeah, man.” Wendell clasped Hodgins on the shoulder. “I know.”
**
Booth half-dozed all the way to Salina, Bones' wonder-pills working magic on the tenseness that had settled in him, and helping to relax the muscles that knotted in his back and the soreness from the traveling. He could hear Bones and Donaldson having a lively conversation about her work in Indonesia; kid had her figured out, Booth thought with a smile. The easiest way to get her to open up was to ask her squinty questions.
They were pulling into a gas station when Booth's phone rang and Brennan shook him gently awake. “Booth, wake up. Your phone's going off.”
“Dammit,” Booth grumbled, but he reached for the device that had been charging. He flipped open the phone. “Booth.”
His eyebrows raised when he heard was on the other end of the line, but he pulled out his notepad and started making notes based on what the caller was saying. He could feel Brennan's eyes on him but he couldn't afford to break his concentration. Soon enough, he was flipping the phone closed. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.
“Something to do with the investigation?” Brennan asked.
“Yeah.” Booth coughed. “That was the Special Agent in Charge of the field office in Kansas City. They've been notified that the body in the morgue belongs to the senator. Apparently, they'd been notified of some threats against Williams before he disappeared and had issued a protection detail.”
Brennan made a face. “Ugh.”
Donaldson leaned forward. “Are they going to try to have the case reassigned?”
Booth shook his head. “Nah. The guys from KC are pretty good. They know me. There's an agent we're supposed to meet at the campaign headquarters before we go around interviewing the staff.
“Has to be pretty embarrassing for those guys,” Donaldson said, sitting back in his seat and smirking.
“It's embarrassing for the whole Bureau,” Booth said mildly, giving Donaldson a narrow-eyed look in the rearview mirror.
Booth gave her the directions to the campaign headquarters he'd pulled off his phone, and after they'd filled the tank, they were off down the road. Salina turned out to be a good-sized city, and quite a far cry from the isolated little towns Booth had come to associate with the state. They maneuvered through carefully-laid-out streets to a strip mall and parked.
They opened the door and a fresh wave of the heavy heat that Booth had come to expect smacked them right in the face. Brennan gasped and reached into the glove box, quickly tying her hair back in a ponytail. Booth wished he could discard the suit for something cooler, but he was stuck in the FBI-standard getup. Donaldson wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Let's stop standing around and get the hell inside,” Booth suggested, letting Donaldson take the lead when he felt Brennan's hand on his arm.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered to him.
“Much better,” Booth said with a smile. “Thanks, Bones.”
She smiled brilliantly at him - one of those rare, truly pleased smiles that she hadn't gifted him with in far too long. Another knot of tension eased from his shoulders and he started to feel just a little more steady, not quite so unhinged.
“Being out in the field with you two is worse than being the pinch hitter,” Donaldson called back to them, exasperated. “C'mon. It's hot as hell out here.”
“We're coming, Agent Donaldson,” Brennan said, her voice cool enough to reduce some of the August heat, but she didn't let go of Booth's arm. “Just as quickly as we can.”
Donaldson rolled his eyes expressively, but when he was the first to reach the door he held it open gallantly for Brennan and Booth, gesturing that they were to precede him in. Booth gave him a slight nod of approval as he passed him, and just as soon as they were over the threshold, Brennan's hand slipped from his arm. Booth took a deep breath and approached the front desk, where a woman sat, volunteer button securely attached to her lapel, delicately wiping at her eyes with tissue.
“Hello,” Booth said, flashing her a reassuring smile. She looked up and fluttered her eyelashes at him. He felt almost amused. She was twenty-five if she was a day, red-headed and green-eyed. Cute as a bug and way, way too young for him. Still, the attention was flattering and he turned up the charm a notch, flashing his badge smoothly. “I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. I'm here to meet the Special Agent in Charge.”
“Yeah, of course, of course,” the woman said, wiping her eyes dramatically and flipping through the documents on her desk with an air of importance. “Let me just buzz him and let him know you're here.”
“Not necessary, Alice,” a tall African-American man said, stepping out from the hallway that stretched behind the lobby. He crossed the floor quickly and extended his hand. “I'm Special Agent Forrest. My men were in charge of the protection detail. It's good to meet you - I've heard a lot about you, Special Agent Booth.”
“Lies and damn lies,” Booth said jovially, trying to force some levity into his voice.
“You must be Dr. Temperance Brennan, then?” He extended one hand to her and shook hers firmly. “I loved the latest book. When does the next one come out?”
“I'm taking a brief hiatus,” Bones said professionally.
“My wife's a writer,” Agent Forrest said, gesturing down the hallway and assuming they'd follow him. “She's always going on about the fickleness of the muse.”
“I've been in Indonesia,” Brennan said bluntly. “I found it was more a lack of time than the fickleness of a mythical creature.”
Agent Forrest's lips quirked in amusement. “Quite.” He opened a door and gestured grandly. “It's not much, but go ahead and step inside our temporary headquarters, folks.”
The room was painted industrial white. Long enough for one round conference table, an old-fashioned overhead projector and a computer, it was packed with equipment and every spare inch of the wall was taken. There were two doors to enter, and agents left and returned importantly, talking on cell phones, marking on a map and writing on a large dry-erase board that had been mounted on one wall.
Forrest issued a sharp whistle and everyone paused. “Take a break, everyone. Back in twenty.”
They scattered, leaving the room completely free for Booth, Brennan and Donaldson. Forrest gestured for them to sit.
“Pretty sweet set-up you got here,” Booth said with a half-smile.
“You make do with the facilities you have,” Forrest said, with a chuckle. “We're going to upgrade just as soon as one of the hotels in town has a meeting room for us to requisition. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I didn't catch your associate's name, Agent Booth.”
“Agent Donaldson,” he introduced himself. “I, uh... work for Booth.”
Forrest raised an eyebrow as if to say that were perfectly obvious without pointing it out. He reached for a file in one of the cabinets, snapped it open and sat. “I understand you'll be heading up the murder investigation and using the resources of the Jeffersonian, the facility that has already confirmed the identity of Senator Williams?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Forrest said, making a notation in his file. “Only the best on this one. We need to wrap it up quickly, stop this bastard from getting anyone else.”
“That assumes that the killer will feel the need to kill again,” Brennan protested, “which is supposition at best.”
“Your Doctor Sweets doesn't seem to think so,” Forrest said. “How about I tell you what I know, and then you can tell me what you know?”
Brennan bit her lip, but Booth reached down and squeezed her knee in warning. “Sounds like a plan.”
“In this year alone, we've intercepted well over a thousand threats of bodily harm or death on the Senator, only five of which were considered serious enough to prosecute. He was issued a protection detail for this campaign trip because of some abortion legislation he was pursuing in Congress. He had some pretty interesting threats against his life. Of course, uh... nothing as dramatic as what eventually happened to him.” Forrest pulled out a few documents and handed them to the others.
“Yeah, well, it's the creeps who don't say anything you really have to be scared of,” Booth said.
“Precisely, Agent Booth. What I've just given you is the itinerary for Senator Williams' most recent campaign. The last place he was seen publicly was at the Best Western at the Future Farmers of America state-wide dinner, where he gave a speech and accepted an award.” Forrest tapped the sheet of paper. “All of the reports from my agents say that he made it to his hotel room in that same hotel safely, said goodnight and locked the door.”
“The next morning he was gone?”
Forrest shook his head. “Not that unusual. Senator Williams took great delight in shaking off our protection. Apparently he only consented to protection to get his wife off of his back. She's got a legendary temper. He was last seen at nine pm. When we did our ten pm check, he was gone.”
“How long did it take for you folks to come to the conclusion that he was missing?'
“We waited two hours before officially initiating emergency procedures.” Booth raised his eyebrows but Forrest sighed. “As I said, Agent Booth, this was the kind of thing Williams was known for. You can only take it seriously so many times.”
“Sounds like the Senator should have thought a little more thoroughly before slipping off all of those times,” Donaldson said. Booth shot him an agitated look, but Brennan chuckled appreciatively.
“Yes, well. I very much wish that we had taken it more seriously at the time,” Forrest said. “We were hoping the remains were a decoy of some kind.”
Booth felt his temperature start to rise, but he took a deep breath. Of course the man didn't want his agency to look bad, and he probably didn't want to lose his job. Given how poorly the situation had been handled, however, Booth knew there was little chance that either one of those things would be possible once the press got a hold of the facts.
“So, let me get this timeline straight. He goes missing at ten pm on a Saturday night. You boys don't sound the alarm until just after midnight, Sunday. By that time he could be...”
“Anywhere.” Donaldson piped up helpfully. “He could have been anywhere in a 100-mile radius from here.”
“Precisely,” Brennan agreed. “Was there a sign of a struggle in his hotel room?”
“No, as I said, all signs pointed to the situation being that the senator had merely slipped his agents again and taken a walk.”
Brennan's eyes narrowed. “The body shows evidence of a peri-mortem struggle. There are hairline fractures in the radius of both arms, as well as bruising to several ribs.”
“You'll find no evidence of anything like that in the senator's hotel room.”
Booth found himself wishing he had the techs he was familiar with in D.C, the ones that he trusted implicitly. He'd gone into this interview with good faith, hoping to cooperate with the other agent, but now he was getting the distinct impression that the other man was more interested in covering his ass than following the evidence to a logical conclusion.
“Yeah, well, I'm going to have my people look into that,” Booth said, raising his eyebrows. “Like you said, we're going to use the best on this one.”
“By all means, Agent Booth. You'll find my people are very reliable. I can assure you that we've missed nothing of importance.”
“A flawed premise,” Brennan said, arching an eyebrow, “since it assumes infallibility. Very loyal of you, but not very logical at all.”
Forrest coughed and straightened the papers in the file. “What can you tell me about the extent of your investigation so far?”
“We can tell you that the victim most likely died of a massive drug overdose, which may or may not have been forcibly administered. He was then attached to a pole, dressed as a scarecrow, and placed in a field.” Brennan didn't mince any of her words. “He was left there for twelve to fourteen hours. We'll know more once more particulate evidence comes in.”
“Was there a note? Anything that might have given away the killer's motivation, what they hope to gain? Anything we can link back to an organization?”
“Our profiler says no,” Donaldson said firmly. “Whoever the murderer is, they've got a silent agenda, a goal they think is only achievable through this kind of bold statement.”
“Yeah, well. You won't mind if we have our guys take a look at the file, will you Agent Booth? We don't want to assume infallibility.” Forrest smiled grimly. “We do have fancy things like profilers out here.”
Booth smirked. “Yeah, of course, Agent. Whatever you want; you've got the full cooperation of my team.”
Several minutes later they were walking out the door to interview the widow of the late Senator Williams. Brennan put her sunglasses on and looked at Booth. “When you said he had our full cooperation, were you being sarcastic?”
Booth's face hardened. “Yeah, Bones, I was. I don't trust that guy any further than I could throw him. When we get back to the hotel tonight, I'm going to see what Hacker can dig up on this guy, but I think we're going to be handling this one ourselves.”
“Smell a rat, sir?” Donaldson piped up, half-jogging to keep up with Booth.
“Not hard to do when he's right in front of your face, Donaldson.” Booth opened the driver's side door and swung himself in.
“Funny,” Brennan said, opening her door and sliding in the vehicle, “I rather thought he looked and smelled like a weasel.”
Booth turned the ignition and laughed.
**
Sweets stood nervously at the door, his hands in his pockets. He waited for a moment before the door swung open and Rebecca stood there.
“Lance.” She didn't look surprised. “What are you doing here in the middle of the afternoon?” she asked with wide, innocent eyes.
“I...” He shrugged his shoulders. “Thought it might be nice to see you. I remembered you said you had the day off and Parker was at that program, so...”
“Come on in.” She stepped aside and he passed her. “Want to take your coat off? It's pretty hot out there.”
He nodded, sliding his suit jacket from his body and hanging it on the coat rack that hung in the hallway. Rebecca gestured towards the kitchen and he followed her, watching her hips sway in cute cut-off jeans. Her hair was in a loose ponytail and she wore a Bon Jovi t-shirt. It was as deconstructed as he'd ever seen her - as honest as he'd ever seen her. He figured that was a sign from the Universe.
“Want a beer?”
Sweets laughed. “No, thanks.”
“Soda?”
“Nah.”
“Good roll in the hay?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
Sweets grinned. “If you insist.”
Then they were meeting in the middle, his tie coming loose from around his neck thanks to her clever fingers, his pants unzipped, her shirt discarded. His hands cupped her ass firmly as they kissed, kneading the flesh there until she was pumping her hips against his. With one quick tug, her shorts fell to the floor. His shirt went next, tossed over the counter. Her eager hands pushed his a-shirt up and over his head until his naked chest pressed flush against her t-shirt.
Too much fabric was all Sweets could think, and he yanked her shirt over her head, and relieved her of her bra just as quickly.
“Bedroom,” Rebecca said insistently, pushing him in that direction. They never really parted, though, quick hands gliding over skin and cotton and polyester, bunching in hair. Lips meeting, parting, tongues exploring.
They fell together on the bed and Sweets rolled over her, drawing one generous breast into his mouth and sucking deep. “Shit shit shit,” Rebecca moaned. “Christ, you're good at that.”
“Good at lots of things. Boy genius, me,” Sweets muttered, kissing his way across the valley of her breasts.
Rebecca spread her legs pointedly. “So you've got a clever mouth, but can you multitask?”
Sweets proved he could, laving his tongue around her nipple and flicking it back and forth while his fingers found the cleft between her thighs and teased it to life. Soon she was bucking underneath of him, grasping on the sheets for purchase as she came, breathless and nearly soundless. Sweets loved watching her break apart underneath of him, loved the way her lips parted and her eyes fluttered and her cheeks flushed in just that way.
He was lost in his observations until her clever hand found his cock and squeezed pointedly. “Oh fuck,” he moaned.
“Precisely,” Rebecca whispered.
**
Some time later, they lay gasping, separate. Sweets found himself contemplating the ceiling, exhausted. He could smell her next to him, could taste her on his tongue. Her breathing filled his ears and he was content for a moment.
“I take it there's something on your mind,” Rebecca said, rolling over to look him in the eye. “You want to tell me about it?”
“You missed your calling, you know. You should have been a psychologist.” Sweets grinned. “A psychologist with a very... hands-on approach to therapy.”
“It's much more fun as a hobby,” Rebecca teased. “What's bugging you, though? Seriously.”
“This case.” Sweets sighed. “Everything about it, really.”
Rebecca made a sympathetic face. “You're going out to help tomorrow, you know. You can't really do much until then.”
“You ever get the feeling you're staring right at something - like something's right there but you just can't see it?”
Rebecca smiled sadly. “Yeah, I do.”
Sweets balled his fists in frustration. “I'm not an idiot, you know.”
“No, I know that.”
“I'm very good at my job. And just because...”
Rebecca leaned over and kissed his chest. “It's Booth.” She laid her hand flat on his chest. “Not to sound creepy, discussing the ex in bed, but... he does have a way of demanding the inhuman from the people around him.”
“I'm missing something. Something obvious.” Sweets sighed again. “Something that would help.”
“The case? Or Booth?”
“Yes.” Sweets rubbed his eyes. “I'm very concerned about him. He --” Sweets huffed out another breath - “I've gotten reports from Donaldson that indicate he's being irritable, possibly in some physical pain...”
“Seeley's a big boy,” Rebecca said soothingly. “He can handle himself. I can promise you that.”
Sweets laughed ruefully. “Okay - so maybe the 'big boy' thing was a little bit much, Becs.”
“Jealous? You shouldn't be. Younger men are so, mmm,” she bent down and kissed him deeply, “enthusiastic.”
Sweets shifted on the bed. “I guess that's one word for it.”
“Don't worry about Booth. Not now, while you can't do anything about it.” Rebecca cupped his cheek and sat up, reaching for her underwear. “Speaking of Booth, we've got to stop doing this or he'll kill you.”
“I know.” Sweets started to look for his boxer shorts. “I know. I just...”
She sighed, stopped, and pushed him back on the bed, kissing him again. “But. Parker's not due home for another hour. We don't have to stop right now.”
Sweets chuckled. “Last time, swear.”
Rebecca laughed. “Last time.”
**
Chapter Nine: In the Emerald City
Author: ladychi
Beta Babes: katmorning, cathmarchr
Characters/Pairings: Booth/Brennan, Hodgins/Angela, Cam, Sweets, Wendell, Clark, Parker Booth, various OCs
Rating: M for language, graphic violence and graphic sex
Summary: It's August in western Kansas and a Senator's gone missing. When a body shows up in a field of milo, the President himself wants only the best investigating the murder. Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan are both plucked unceremoniously from their lives and thrust into extreme-rural Kansas after a year apart. Takes place immediately after the year of separation in The Beginning in the End, the S5 finale. Multi-part mystery, updated every Monday.
Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven
Author's Note: Special thanks go out to ayiana2, as well as cathmarchr and katmorning. This chapter gave me absolute fits and turned out nothing like I expected it to -- but hey, there's sexytiemz in here! That's good, right? Happy Monday, everyone!
Chapter Eight: The Flying Monkey
Angela studied the skull on the table before her, Wendell's carefully-placed tissue markers paving the way for the painstaking work of putting a face to the battered remains. At first, the company of the dead had been unnatural to her, and at times it was still slightly disconcerting and oftentimes painful. A year away had rejuvenated her - washed away some of the grit and the grime that had settled on her, but it had also erased some of the numbness that had shielded her from some of the harder emotions. This first case back had been like the very first - the disgust, the horror... and the satisfaction of knowing she was helping someone's family.
With a skill that was still innate, she slowly gave the man back his face, returned some of the dignity of his life to him, and as she did, she spoke softly to herself, and to the child inside of her and the man in front of her. The three of them, involved in a conversation where Angela was the only one who spoke aloud.
She gave him back his eyes and told her daughter that she loved her father's eyes - tested blue and green and brown and all the colors in-between and saved them in different files on her computer. She shaded the skin and spoke of spring in Paris, the sweet kiss of the first rain in April that had induced the lovemaking that had conceived the child. She teased the man before her about the lovers he might have had - asked him about the wife she hoped he'd had...
Her ring caught the sunlight streaming through the window just as she saved the final touches on the final face that could belong to the man in front of her. She had a number of sketches and renderings with different combinations. She zipped them into a file and sent them to Brennan. A soft knock on her office door made her turn. She smiled softly at what she saw. “Hey, Wendell.”
He opened his arms and swept her into a hug. Just as warm and reassuring as he had been when they were dating, and smelling just as good. Angela let herself float on a wave of nostalgia and affection. They broke apart quickly, Wendell's hands cupping her face.
“You look beautiful,” he said in that honest way he had that she had always envied.
“I look fat,” she corrected with a patient smile.
“No, Angie. You look beautiful, and Hodgins is a lucky man.” He kissed her cheek. “I wanted you to know that I'm so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Wendell.” Angela tried to smile, but her eyes welled with tears. “You...”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, holding out a file. “Uh, I brought you this. We confirmed the identity of the remains this morning. It's Senator Williams.”
Angela sighed and unconsciously placed her hand on her stomach. “I had a feeling it might be. Poor guy.”
“Well. I just wanted to tell you - and the congratulations thing,” Wendell said, a little awkwardly. “It's nice to have you back.”
“It's nice to be back.” Angela smiled. “I never thought I would miss this. I guess Brennan's ruined me in the same twisted way the rest of you are ruined.
Wendell smiled. “You know, I forgot that you talk to them.”
She flushed. “What?”
“I forgot that you talk to the dead.” He shrugged. “I always liked that, you know? You never forget their humanity.”
Angela brushed her hair back from her face and was about to respond when Hodgins knocked on the door. A look of genuine delight crossed his face. “Hey Wendell! I haven't seen you around!”
The two men embraced, clasping each other on the back and pounding a few times. Hodgins broke away first. “How's it going, man?”
“Oh, it's going pretty well, actually. Did you hear we got a positive I.D in the scarecrow body?”
Hodgins' eyebrows rose. “Was it the Senator?”
“Turns out it was,” Wendell said with a nod of his head.
“Oh boy, that's going to be interesting,” Hodgins said. “It might get pretty tense around here.”
“Yeah, that's for sure. Listen, Hodgins, congratulations man,” Wendell said with a big smile. “I couldn't be happier for you and Ange.”
Hodgins' face softened. “Hey thanks, man.”
There was an awkward pause for a minute before Wendell cleared his throat. “So, uh... got anything new?”
“Yeah, actually.” Hodgins seemed to snap back awake. “All of the particulate evidence I've been able to sort through is consistent with our victim being out in the field they found him in for fourteen to sixteen hours.”
“But he wasn't killed there?”
“Particulate evidence in his defensive wounds showed nylon, wool, foam and adhesive. The nylon and wool fibers were dyed a color its manufacturer calls Ocean Blue.” Hodgins grinned. “Wherever the victim received his defensive wounds, he was in an area where they were laying carpet. Calliope Carpet, to be exact. I still have some unexplained insect activity and a few other particulates to analyze, but that's the picture I'm getting. I just let Cam know.”
“I'm looking for any other signs of trauma that would be cause of death other than the drug overdose,” Wendell said.
Angela stood and pressed a hand to her mouth. “Good to know, everyone. If you'll excuse me...”
She ran out of the office like a bat out of hell. Wendell started after her, and looked helplessly at Hodgins.
“Is she okay? Did we upset her? I didn't mean...”
“Nah, man, it's morning sickness.” Hodgins winced in sympathy. “Hits her at random times. It doesn't seem to have anything to do with what's going on around her.”
“Oh,” Wendell said, his eyes widening. “Are you going to go help her?”
“Yeah, in a minute. She doesn't want me in there for the first bit. We've got a routine.” Hodgins looked vaguely proud. “Sort of like we're in this together. Only don't tell her I said that, because she'll hit me.”
Wendell smiled. “You know, you guys are going to be great parents.”
“We're going to do our best.” Hodgins shrugged his shoulders. “It... just happened so fast, but it's better than I ever thought it would be, you know?
“Yeah, man.” Wendell clasped Hodgins on the shoulder. “I know.”
**
Booth half-dozed all the way to Salina, Bones' wonder-pills working magic on the tenseness that had settled in him, and helping to relax the muscles that knotted in his back and the soreness from the traveling. He could hear Bones and Donaldson having a lively conversation about her work in Indonesia; kid had her figured out, Booth thought with a smile. The easiest way to get her to open up was to ask her squinty questions.
They were pulling into a gas station when Booth's phone rang and Brennan shook him gently awake. “Booth, wake up. Your phone's going off.”
“Dammit,” Booth grumbled, but he reached for the device that had been charging. He flipped open the phone. “Booth.”
His eyebrows raised when he heard was on the other end of the line, but he pulled out his notepad and started making notes based on what the caller was saying. He could feel Brennan's eyes on him but he couldn't afford to break his concentration. Soon enough, he was flipping the phone closed. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.
“Something to do with the investigation?” Brennan asked.
“Yeah.” Booth coughed. “That was the Special Agent in Charge of the field office in Kansas City. They've been notified that the body in the morgue belongs to the senator. Apparently, they'd been notified of some threats against Williams before he disappeared and had issued a protection detail.”
Brennan made a face. “Ugh.”
Donaldson leaned forward. “Are they going to try to have the case reassigned?”
Booth shook his head. “Nah. The guys from KC are pretty good. They know me. There's an agent we're supposed to meet at the campaign headquarters before we go around interviewing the staff.
“Has to be pretty embarrassing for those guys,” Donaldson said, sitting back in his seat and smirking.
“It's embarrassing for the whole Bureau,” Booth said mildly, giving Donaldson a narrow-eyed look in the rearview mirror.
Booth gave her the directions to the campaign headquarters he'd pulled off his phone, and after they'd filled the tank, they were off down the road. Salina turned out to be a good-sized city, and quite a far cry from the isolated little towns Booth had come to associate with the state. They maneuvered through carefully-laid-out streets to a strip mall and parked.
They opened the door and a fresh wave of the heavy heat that Booth had come to expect smacked them right in the face. Brennan gasped and reached into the glove box, quickly tying her hair back in a ponytail. Booth wished he could discard the suit for something cooler, but he was stuck in the FBI-standard getup. Donaldson wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Let's stop standing around and get the hell inside,” Booth suggested, letting Donaldson take the lead when he felt Brennan's hand on his arm.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered to him.
“Much better,” Booth said with a smile. “Thanks, Bones.”
She smiled brilliantly at him - one of those rare, truly pleased smiles that she hadn't gifted him with in far too long. Another knot of tension eased from his shoulders and he started to feel just a little more steady, not quite so unhinged.
“Being out in the field with you two is worse than being the pinch hitter,” Donaldson called back to them, exasperated. “C'mon. It's hot as hell out here.”
“We're coming, Agent Donaldson,” Brennan said, her voice cool enough to reduce some of the August heat, but she didn't let go of Booth's arm. “Just as quickly as we can.”
Donaldson rolled his eyes expressively, but when he was the first to reach the door he held it open gallantly for Brennan and Booth, gesturing that they were to precede him in. Booth gave him a slight nod of approval as he passed him, and just as soon as they were over the threshold, Brennan's hand slipped from his arm. Booth took a deep breath and approached the front desk, where a woman sat, volunteer button securely attached to her lapel, delicately wiping at her eyes with tissue.
“Hello,” Booth said, flashing her a reassuring smile. She looked up and fluttered her eyelashes at him. He felt almost amused. She was twenty-five if she was a day, red-headed and green-eyed. Cute as a bug and way, way too young for him. Still, the attention was flattering and he turned up the charm a notch, flashing his badge smoothly. “I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. I'm here to meet the Special Agent in Charge.”
“Yeah, of course, of course,” the woman said, wiping her eyes dramatically and flipping through the documents on her desk with an air of importance. “Let me just buzz him and let him know you're here.”
“Not necessary, Alice,” a tall African-American man said, stepping out from the hallway that stretched behind the lobby. He crossed the floor quickly and extended his hand. “I'm Special Agent Forrest. My men were in charge of the protection detail. It's good to meet you - I've heard a lot about you, Special Agent Booth.”
“Lies and damn lies,” Booth said jovially, trying to force some levity into his voice.
“You must be Dr. Temperance Brennan, then?” He extended one hand to her and shook hers firmly. “I loved the latest book. When does the next one come out?”
“I'm taking a brief hiatus,” Bones said professionally.
“My wife's a writer,” Agent Forrest said, gesturing down the hallway and assuming they'd follow him. “She's always going on about the fickleness of the muse.”
“I've been in Indonesia,” Brennan said bluntly. “I found it was more a lack of time than the fickleness of a mythical creature.”
Agent Forrest's lips quirked in amusement. “Quite.” He opened a door and gestured grandly. “It's not much, but go ahead and step inside our temporary headquarters, folks.”
The room was painted industrial white. Long enough for one round conference table, an old-fashioned overhead projector and a computer, it was packed with equipment and every spare inch of the wall was taken. There were two doors to enter, and agents left and returned importantly, talking on cell phones, marking on a map and writing on a large dry-erase board that had been mounted on one wall.
Forrest issued a sharp whistle and everyone paused. “Take a break, everyone. Back in twenty.”
They scattered, leaving the room completely free for Booth, Brennan and Donaldson. Forrest gestured for them to sit.
“Pretty sweet set-up you got here,” Booth said with a half-smile.
“You make do with the facilities you have,” Forrest said, with a chuckle. “We're going to upgrade just as soon as one of the hotels in town has a meeting room for us to requisition. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I didn't catch your associate's name, Agent Booth.”
“Agent Donaldson,” he introduced himself. “I, uh... work for Booth.”
Forrest raised an eyebrow as if to say that were perfectly obvious without pointing it out. He reached for a file in one of the cabinets, snapped it open and sat. “I understand you'll be heading up the murder investigation and using the resources of the Jeffersonian, the facility that has already confirmed the identity of Senator Williams?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Forrest said, making a notation in his file. “Only the best on this one. We need to wrap it up quickly, stop this bastard from getting anyone else.”
“That assumes that the killer will feel the need to kill again,” Brennan protested, “which is supposition at best.”
“Your Doctor Sweets doesn't seem to think so,” Forrest said. “How about I tell you what I know, and then you can tell me what you know?”
Brennan bit her lip, but Booth reached down and squeezed her knee in warning. “Sounds like a plan.”
“In this year alone, we've intercepted well over a thousand threats of bodily harm or death on the Senator, only five of which were considered serious enough to prosecute. He was issued a protection detail for this campaign trip because of some abortion legislation he was pursuing in Congress. He had some pretty interesting threats against his life. Of course, uh... nothing as dramatic as what eventually happened to him.” Forrest pulled out a few documents and handed them to the others.
“Yeah, well, it's the creeps who don't say anything you really have to be scared of,” Booth said.
“Precisely, Agent Booth. What I've just given you is the itinerary for Senator Williams' most recent campaign. The last place he was seen publicly was at the Best Western at the Future Farmers of America state-wide dinner, where he gave a speech and accepted an award.” Forrest tapped the sheet of paper. “All of the reports from my agents say that he made it to his hotel room in that same hotel safely, said goodnight and locked the door.”
“The next morning he was gone?”
Forrest shook his head. “Not that unusual. Senator Williams took great delight in shaking off our protection. Apparently he only consented to protection to get his wife off of his back. She's got a legendary temper. He was last seen at nine pm. When we did our ten pm check, he was gone.”
“How long did it take for you folks to come to the conclusion that he was missing?'
“We waited two hours before officially initiating emergency procedures.” Booth raised his eyebrows but Forrest sighed. “As I said, Agent Booth, this was the kind of thing Williams was known for. You can only take it seriously so many times.”
“Sounds like the Senator should have thought a little more thoroughly before slipping off all of those times,” Donaldson said. Booth shot him an agitated look, but Brennan chuckled appreciatively.
“Yes, well. I very much wish that we had taken it more seriously at the time,” Forrest said. “We were hoping the remains were a decoy of some kind.”
Booth felt his temperature start to rise, but he took a deep breath. Of course the man didn't want his agency to look bad, and he probably didn't want to lose his job. Given how poorly the situation had been handled, however, Booth knew there was little chance that either one of those things would be possible once the press got a hold of the facts.
“So, let me get this timeline straight. He goes missing at ten pm on a Saturday night. You boys don't sound the alarm until just after midnight, Sunday. By that time he could be...”
“Anywhere.” Donaldson piped up helpfully. “He could have been anywhere in a 100-mile radius from here.”
“Precisely,” Brennan agreed. “Was there a sign of a struggle in his hotel room?”
“No, as I said, all signs pointed to the situation being that the senator had merely slipped his agents again and taken a walk.”
Brennan's eyes narrowed. “The body shows evidence of a peri-mortem struggle. There are hairline fractures in the radius of both arms, as well as bruising to several ribs.”
“You'll find no evidence of anything like that in the senator's hotel room.”
Booth found himself wishing he had the techs he was familiar with in D.C, the ones that he trusted implicitly. He'd gone into this interview with good faith, hoping to cooperate with the other agent, but now he was getting the distinct impression that the other man was more interested in covering his ass than following the evidence to a logical conclusion.
“Yeah, well, I'm going to have my people look into that,” Booth said, raising his eyebrows. “Like you said, we're going to use the best on this one.”
“By all means, Agent Booth. You'll find my people are very reliable. I can assure you that we've missed nothing of importance.”
“A flawed premise,” Brennan said, arching an eyebrow, “since it assumes infallibility. Very loyal of you, but not very logical at all.”
Forrest coughed and straightened the papers in the file. “What can you tell me about the extent of your investigation so far?”
“We can tell you that the victim most likely died of a massive drug overdose, which may or may not have been forcibly administered. He was then attached to a pole, dressed as a scarecrow, and placed in a field.” Brennan didn't mince any of her words. “He was left there for twelve to fourteen hours. We'll know more once more particulate evidence comes in.”
“Was there a note? Anything that might have given away the killer's motivation, what they hope to gain? Anything we can link back to an organization?”
“Our profiler says no,” Donaldson said firmly. “Whoever the murderer is, they've got a silent agenda, a goal they think is only achievable through this kind of bold statement.”
“Yeah, well. You won't mind if we have our guys take a look at the file, will you Agent Booth? We don't want to assume infallibility.” Forrest smiled grimly. “We do have fancy things like profilers out here.”
Booth smirked. “Yeah, of course, Agent. Whatever you want; you've got the full cooperation of my team.”
Several minutes later they were walking out the door to interview the widow of the late Senator Williams. Brennan put her sunglasses on and looked at Booth. “When you said he had our full cooperation, were you being sarcastic?”
Booth's face hardened. “Yeah, Bones, I was. I don't trust that guy any further than I could throw him. When we get back to the hotel tonight, I'm going to see what Hacker can dig up on this guy, but I think we're going to be handling this one ourselves.”
“Smell a rat, sir?” Donaldson piped up, half-jogging to keep up with Booth.
“Not hard to do when he's right in front of your face, Donaldson.” Booth opened the driver's side door and swung himself in.
“Funny,” Brennan said, opening her door and sliding in the vehicle, “I rather thought he looked and smelled like a weasel.”
Booth turned the ignition and laughed.
**
Sweets stood nervously at the door, his hands in his pockets. He waited for a moment before the door swung open and Rebecca stood there.
“Lance.” She didn't look surprised. “What are you doing here in the middle of the afternoon?” she asked with wide, innocent eyes.
“I...” He shrugged his shoulders. “Thought it might be nice to see you. I remembered you said you had the day off and Parker was at that program, so...”
“Come on in.” She stepped aside and he passed her. “Want to take your coat off? It's pretty hot out there.”
He nodded, sliding his suit jacket from his body and hanging it on the coat rack that hung in the hallway. Rebecca gestured towards the kitchen and he followed her, watching her hips sway in cute cut-off jeans. Her hair was in a loose ponytail and she wore a Bon Jovi t-shirt. It was as deconstructed as he'd ever seen her - as honest as he'd ever seen her. He figured that was a sign from the Universe.
“Want a beer?”
Sweets laughed. “No, thanks.”
“Soda?”
“Nah.”
“Good roll in the hay?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
Sweets grinned. “If you insist.”
Then they were meeting in the middle, his tie coming loose from around his neck thanks to her clever fingers, his pants unzipped, her shirt discarded. His hands cupped her ass firmly as they kissed, kneading the flesh there until she was pumping her hips against his. With one quick tug, her shorts fell to the floor. His shirt went next, tossed over the counter. Her eager hands pushed his a-shirt up and over his head until his naked chest pressed flush against her t-shirt.
Too much fabric was all Sweets could think, and he yanked her shirt over her head, and relieved her of her bra just as quickly.
“Bedroom,” Rebecca said insistently, pushing him in that direction. They never really parted, though, quick hands gliding over skin and cotton and polyester, bunching in hair. Lips meeting, parting, tongues exploring.
They fell together on the bed and Sweets rolled over her, drawing one generous breast into his mouth and sucking deep. “Shit shit shit,” Rebecca moaned. “Christ, you're good at that.”
“Good at lots of things. Boy genius, me,” Sweets muttered, kissing his way across the valley of her breasts.
Rebecca spread her legs pointedly. “So you've got a clever mouth, but can you multitask?”
Sweets proved he could, laving his tongue around her nipple and flicking it back and forth while his fingers found the cleft between her thighs and teased it to life. Soon she was bucking underneath of him, grasping on the sheets for purchase as she came, breathless and nearly soundless. Sweets loved watching her break apart underneath of him, loved the way her lips parted and her eyes fluttered and her cheeks flushed in just that way.
He was lost in his observations until her clever hand found his cock and squeezed pointedly. “Oh fuck,” he moaned.
“Precisely,” Rebecca whispered.
**
Some time later, they lay gasping, separate. Sweets found himself contemplating the ceiling, exhausted. He could smell her next to him, could taste her on his tongue. Her breathing filled his ears and he was content for a moment.
“I take it there's something on your mind,” Rebecca said, rolling over to look him in the eye. “You want to tell me about it?”
“You missed your calling, you know. You should have been a psychologist.” Sweets grinned. “A psychologist with a very... hands-on approach to therapy.”
“It's much more fun as a hobby,” Rebecca teased. “What's bugging you, though? Seriously.”
“This case.” Sweets sighed. “Everything about it, really.”
Rebecca made a sympathetic face. “You're going out to help tomorrow, you know. You can't really do much until then.”
“You ever get the feeling you're staring right at something - like something's right there but you just can't see it?”
Rebecca smiled sadly. “Yeah, I do.”
Sweets balled his fists in frustration. “I'm not an idiot, you know.”
“No, I know that.”
“I'm very good at my job. And just because...”
Rebecca leaned over and kissed his chest. “It's Booth.” She laid her hand flat on his chest. “Not to sound creepy, discussing the ex in bed, but... he does have a way of demanding the inhuman from the people around him.”
“I'm missing something. Something obvious.” Sweets sighed again. “Something that would help.”
“The case? Or Booth?”
“Yes.” Sweets rubbed his eyes. “I'm very concerned about him. He --” Sweets huffed out another breath - “I've gotten reports from Donaldson that indicate he's being irritable, possibly in some physical pain...”
“Seeley's a big boy,” Rebecca said soothingly. “He can handle himself. I can promise you that.”
Sweets laughed ruefully. “Okay - so maybe the 'big boy' thing was a little bit much, Becs.”
“Jealous? You shouldn't be. Younger men are so, mmm,” she bent down and kissed him deeply, “enthusiastic.”
Sweets shifted on the bed. “I guess that's one word for it.”
“Don't worry about Booth. Not now, while you can't do anything about it.” Rebecca cupped his cheek and sat up, reaching for her underwear. “Speaking of Booth, we've got to stop doing this or he'll kill you.”
“I know.” Sweets started to look for his boxer shorts. “I know. I just...”
She sighed, stopped, and pushed him back on the bed, kissing him again. “But. Parker's not due home for another hour. We don't have to stop right now.”
Sweets chuckled. “Last time, swear.”
Rebecca laughed. “Last time.”
**
Chapter Nine: In the Emerald City