In Search of a Hero

Washington, DC: Part One

Brennan's fit of pique was short-lived. When Harvey returned to see if they wanted to order anything from the menu, she swiveled her chair away from the window and the glimpses of Philadelphia moving by like frames in an ever-speeding movie.

"I think I'll just have a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee," Booth told the porter. Brennan demurred politely when he offered the menu to her.

"Just a glass of water, please. Travel doesn't always agree with me." When one hand brushed vaguely in the area of her midriff, Harvey completely misunderstood.

"My wife used to have the same problem when she was in the family way," he said, lowering his voice discreetly. "Don't you worry none, it will pass. How 'bout I bring you some ginger ale? I think we got some of those little soup crackers back there, too. That will help settle everything down."

It was all Booth could do not to burst out laughing at the look of horror on Brennan's face.

"Oh, no. No. I didn't mean . . . That's not . . ."

Harvey laid a finger across his lips. "Won't nothing be said by me and that's a fact. You just try to relax, little mama. I'll be right back with that ginger ale."

Still sputtering, Brennan twisted in her seat, trying to no avail to get his attention as he walked away. When she turned around again, Booth couldn't hold his laughter any longer. She wasn't nearly as amused.

"Stop it."

He shrugged in a false show of innocence. "I just think I should have been the first to know . . . little mama."

"It's not funny."

"It's kind of funny."

Even though her cheeks were flushed pink, small signs revealed a struggle to hide her own amusement. Booth was delighted when her lips twitched. "You're incorrigible."

"Hey, I thought you said that I didn't need a dictionary."

She sniffed delicately and stuck her chin in the air, and once again, Booth found himself oddly charmed by the gesture. That it wasn't meant to attract his attention in that way, only made it more effective.

Harvey returned, balancing a tray with one hand as he unloaded Booth's sandwich and coffee, and a glass of ginger ale with a small bowl of little round crackers for Brennan. Booth watched discreetly as she hesitated a moment, then gave the porter a smile and a quiet "thank you."

He decided to hold off any further teasing, especially after she began to take off her gloves then deliberately changed her mind in order to avoid revealing her ringless hand. He made an obvious show of attention to his sandwich instead. Made with a slab of ham an inch thick and topped with lettuce and creamy mayonnaise, it had been sliced in half. He picked up one half with unfeigned approval and took a bite.

"Mmmmm. Gotta say, this train is a lot nicer than the one I took from New York a few weeks ago. I could get used to this."

Brennan sipped from her ginger ale and, he noticed, nibbled on one of the crackers. "That's probably not a good idea. We won't be traveling so extravagantly once the tour begins. This is a one-time luxury, all to bring the famous Captain Booth to Washington."

The sandwich turned to sawdust in his mouth. He glanced out the window, blind to the green fields and crops growing in the sunshine and seeing instead the terrain of Europe as it looked from the cockpit of his plane, pockmarked by craters left in once-productive farmlands and the bombed-out husks of houses and barns. He grimaced as he swallowed. "Famous. Yeah. Let's talk about something else."