In Search of a Hero

Washington to Richmond

Chaos reigned on Monday morning. The muggy heat of May in the nation's capital added another layer of discomfort to the fraying tempers and sharp voices of the crowd jostling for space beside a train that should long since have left the station. Watching the hapless porters left to guard the closed doors of the passenger cars begging for patience, Angela sighed heavily.

"I don't understand why they won't just let us board. At least then we could sit down."

It was the same question every person stuck on the platform had but as yet, no satisfactory answer had been offered by anyone in charge. As impatient as everyone else, Brennan could only shrug with ill-humour. A rivulet of sweat snaked its way between her shoulder blades, dampening even more the nylon slip clinging to her skin beneath the linen suit she wore. She wrenched a thin white glove off one hand and waved it in the air near her face. The meager breeze it created was hardly worth the effort.

"Dr. Hodgins can at least be grateful for the delay, as he has not yet arrived. Are you sure he was aware of this morning's schedule?"

"Yes, we talked about it yesterday. I have no idea why he's not here." Tiny beads of moisture dotted Angela's forehead, betraying her own battle with the sweltering heat. Unlike Brennan, she'd chosen a thin cotton dress for the morning's travel but the light material provided scant comfort in the stifling air of the station. "What do you think the chances are that the train will have air conditioning?"

"Zero," Booth grunted. "I already asked and it's not. But at least we'll be able to lower a window and get a little bit of a breeze while it's moving. If it ever gets moving." Standing beside Brennan, he fared worse than both women. The heavy wool uniform, coupled with protocols that kept the coat buttoned and the hat perched on his head, meant suffering in the heat. The sliver of collar visible against his neck was dark with sweat, and Brennan was sure that beneath his jacket, his shirt was saturated. She stole a sideways glance at him and watched a bead of water trail down behind his ear. He caught her eye, grimaced, then pointed at the duffle bag he'd set down next to her suitcase.

"I think I've about had it. Keep an eye on that, will you? I'm going to find someone who can tell me what's going on." Taking her agreement for granted, he straightened his hat and strode off down the platform. His height made it easy for the two women to follow his progress as he headed back into the station, looking for answers.

Brennan followed his departure with a frown. "I'm not sure that will do much good."

"Probably not, but at least it gives him something to do. And now that he's gone . . ." As if she'd been waiting for the chance, Angela folded her arms and looked at Brennan with an expression in her eyes that had the other woman leaning back warily. "You have been avoiding me. We all heard Mrs. Julian Saturday night so I don't have to ask how your date went but where did you disappear to yesterday? You were gone all day, and when you finally came back, you locked yourself in your room to pack! You promised me details, remember?"

Brennan was seldom at a loss for words but she found herself in that situation now. Her date with Booth . . . dinner, dancing together, the close confines of the taxi . . . the kiss they'd shared . . . What she'd expected to be a simple evening out with a handsome man she felt a certain attraction to had turned out to be nothing less than magic. His whispered confession of the day before only added another layer of sparkling fairy dust to the memory. She felt the urge to hug it close, to safeguard it and keep it private. Reducing those hours to a few bits of titillating gossip felt wrong somehow, as if it cheapened the connection she and Booth had discovered.

Eyes downcast, she picked at the clasp of her handbag and fumbled for words to explain her reticence. "That promise was easy to make when the event was in the future. But now that it's happened . . . Well, our time together feels very . . . dear."