Disclaimer: "Bones" is the property of Fox Broadcasting, Kathy Reichs, and Hart Hanson. The following story was written for pleasure only and not for personal profit in any way.

Chapter 8

Cullen walked along the beach, searching for any sign of someone coming ashore. Twilight was fast approaching, but it was still easy to see. A shard of wood about two inches wide and nine inches long caught his attention. One end was covered in blood. "Got something," he called. "This is probably from McGregor, left in him from the explosion," the director stated as four more agents came to join him. "He is likely armed, so let's take this carefully," he added as the agents began to spread out some and move inland.

Brennan was walking along the beach several yards ahead of Cullen when he called out. She was about to turn around when she noticed some marks on the shore a ways down the beach in front of her. She walked towards them, crouching down as she examined the marks. The lack of actual footprints suggested someone had struggled ashore, pulling themselves with their arms, and pushing with their feet the short distance to the tree line. Moving towards the vegetation, she found a small pool of blood on the ground and a smear on the bark of a tree, as well as some small scraps of white material. They were jagged at the edges as if they had been ripped apart.

He must have drug himself ashore and then used his shirt to bind his wounds, she thought.

She turned, taking a few steps down the beach. "Director Cullen," she began, but the beach was empty. Not sure where the other agents were and not wanting to risk yelling, she decided to follow Booth's trail alone.

She had no real training at tracking, so she looked for the easiest path forward. The path she would take, if she were hurt and just trying to find a way out. A short way into the vegetation, she saw another bloodstain on the leaves of a small bush. Suddenly she got an idea; she reached into her bag, pulling out her UV light and shining it on the smear. The blood fluoresced under the bluish light.

That will make tracking you easier, she thought. Come on, Booth, where are you?

She moved as quickly and quietly as she could, following the glowing blood traces through the brush, while listening for sounds around her.

After about fifteen minutes, she thought she could hear voices ahead of her. Pulling her gun out, she followed the sound to the edge of a small clearing. She could see McGregor on the right side of the clearing, standing beside a large tree. There was a bloodstain on the sleeve of his left arm, starting just below the shoulder and continuing almost to the elbow. He held a handgun loosely in his right hand.

Across the clearing from him stood Booth. Even in the fading light, Brennan could see his face was pale and his breathing was labored. He wore just an undershirt, which was stained with blood. What was left of his white dress shirt was tied around his left leg and was dark with blood.

McGregor seemed smug, relaxed even. Confident he still had the upper hand.

"Come now, Agent Booth," he said, continuing their conversation, "there is no reason to be like that. Just look at you, rough swim over was it?" he inquired, in a mocking tone.

Booth did not reply, just stared at him with hatred in his eyes.

"How far did you think you would get, Agent? It's just you and me in the middle of nowhere; oh yes, and I have a gun," McGregor continued, gloatingly. "I may even forgive you for blowing up my ship, you just have to ask."

"Go to hell, McGregor," Booth spat, clutching at his side.

"Oh, I think I will hear you beg before it's over," the armed man said, with a malicious smile on his face.

"I won't beg you… for anything," Booth panted, breathing heavily.

As this conversation played out, Brennan moved with all the silence she could manage towards the tree next to McGregor. Slowly she crept around it, making no noise until she was just inches from him.

"Have it your way," she heard him say. "Perhaps I will have to go look up the lady scientist again," he added, raising the gun toward the injured man.

Stepping quickly out from behind the tree, she placed the barrel of her gun against the man's temple. "Let me save you the trouble," she said, her mouth close to his ear.

He froze, his eyes widening in surprise and panic. "Le- let's be reasonable," he stammered.

"Let's," agreed Brennan, as she pulled back the hammer, cocking her gun. The cylinder clicked loudly; as it rotated around to bring a bullet to the barrel. "Why don't we start with you dropping that gun?" Her eyes flashed to Booth for an instant. A mixture of emotions flitted across his face, surprise and fear being the most prominent, "Easy, Bones," he whispered, one hand stretched towards her as if to stop her.

The man complied with her request, immediately releasing the gun, which fell to the ground at his feet. "I'll cooperate," he said, speaking quickly, and raising his hands in the air "there- there's no need to be rash."

Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She saw Cullen approaching the clearing to her left. His face was white with shock, but he also looked angry.

"No need?" she whispered. "Well, you see, McGregor, I don't really approve of the way you have treated my friend here," she continued in his ear. "I intend to make sure you get exactly what's coming to you."

Booth's eyes widened in fear at her words.

"Wait, please--" the drug lord began.

She quickly turned her gun, bringing the handle down hard at the base of his skull. He crumpled to the ground and didn't move again.

Brennan looked quickly towards Booth, who stared at her for a moment, the shock on his face turning quickly to relief. He gave her half a smile. "Hey, Bones," he said weakly, before collapsing forward to his knees, using his hands to support his upper body.

"Booth!" she said in alarm, moving towards him.

"I'm okay," he panted, in response.

She moved swiftly to his side, placing her hand on his back as she knelt next to him. Reflexively, he arched away from her touch, letting out a gasp of pain. She pulled her hand quickly away, not touching him anymore.

"Maybe I'm not… that okay," he amended, a grin on his face.

She shook her head, a smile starting at the corner of her mouth. "Can you walk?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said in a tight voice, as he rocked back on his heels, coming to a kneeling position.

Careful not to touch his back again, she placed her arm around his waist and then bringing his left arm over her shoulder, she helped him to his feet. He stood for a moment, holding his breath, trying to manage the pain, then asked, "How far is it… to the boat… exactly?"

She smiled up at him. "Come on," she said, leading him back toward the beach.

Cullen stood over the unconscious man, whose hands were now cuffed behind his back. He tucked McGregor's gun in his belt, looking over at the scientist as she helped her partner to his feet.

They are quite a pair, he mused, watching them as they made their way out of the clearing.

--

She sat with him in his hospital room, in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside his bed. She had the chair turned so she was facing him and she rested her elbow on the side of his bed.

"Well, the fiberglass Hodgins found is a match with McGregor's boat," Brennan stated. "Hodgins also went through the evidence and pulled the same fiberglass from two of the other victims."

"Yeah, the DA called here this morning. Looks like they have a good solid case, thanks to you," Booth said, smiling at her. "I also got a call from Cullen," he continued, letting the statement hang there for a moment.

"He really doesn't like me, does he?" Brennan asked tentatively.

"Well," Booth began, "he did have a lot to say about you in the clearing. I told him he shouldn't have let you wander out of his sight," he added, a mischievous look in his eye.

"I did not 'wander out of his sight'-- he left me on the beach," she clarified.

"I gotta ask, Bones, how did you even convince Cullen to let you help?" Booth inquired, laughter evident on his face.

"What?" replied Brennan, "I just convinced him it would be better to work together than separately," she said, an evasive smile on her face.

Booth's eyes suddenly lit with understanding. "You found out something he didn't know, didn't you? Then told him he had to let you help or you were going to do it on your own," he said, the laughter fading a bit and being replaced with gratitude.

"What? No! How did you know?" she asked, realizing that he would see through her denial.

"I know you, Bones," he said, with a classic Booth smile on his face. "Thanks," he added in a more serious tone. "You know, blackmailing federal agents could get you into trouble one of these days," he continued, laughing again. "The look on Cullen's face when you had the gun to McGregor's head-- I thought he was going to have a heart attack right there."

"I wasn't going to kill him," she replied, "but people like him, bullies, people who get what they want through intimidation, they need to know fear at some point."

"Well, it worked," Booth, said. "You had him scared. I'm just glad you're on my side!" he said, shaking his head.

"Look at you," she said in a softer tone. "You shouldn't have even been there."

"Ah, come on, Bones, it's no big deal," he said, sitting up a little straighter. "I'll be out of here in no time."

"Yeah, but how many times now have you been the one in the hospital bed, when it should have been me?' she asked, looking down at her hands."

After a moment of silence, she continued, "I was thinking… there's a verse that goes something like; no one has greater love than the one who gives his life for his friends."

"Wait, wait, wait," Booth interrupted, "did you just quote the Bible?" he asked, a teasing smile on his face. He was trying to keep the conversation light. He could see the guilt in her eyes and didn't want her to feel bad.

"What? I've read it," she said, smiling, but in a slightly defensive tone. "That's not the point," she continued, unwilling to be distracted by his teasing. "The point is, I was thinking, that verse fits you, Booth." Her tone became more serious. "I'm glad that I'm your friend. I've never had anyone take care of me the way you take care of me." She paused, looking at him intently. "Why do you do it?"

He looked at his hands for a few seconds, playing with his IV tube, before answering. "Because, Bones," he said, looking up at her, "you've got something special. FBI agents, guys like me, are a dime a dozen; but you, you have a gift. A gift that helps so many people, and that is worth protecting."

She smiled at him. "You're half right," she said, "FBI agents are a dime a dozen, but you really are one of a kind." She stood up and leaned over, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

"Thanks," she said softly.

"Hey, anytime, Bones," he said, with his characteristic crooked smile on his face, "that's what I'm here for."

She smiled down at him, shaking her head slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said, turning towards the door. She paused at the doorframe, looking back at him. "Good night," she added.

He returned her smile. "Good night, Bones."

The End