In Search of a Hero

Washington, DC: Part Two

The door had barely closed before Angela opened it again and shoved Hodgins out.

"I need a few minutes with Brennan. Go count something."

Hodgins struggled against the hands pushing at his shoulders, but it was useless. "But I still need to talk to her . . ."

Angela smiled as she closed the door in his face. "You can talk to her later. Bye."

Brennan watched the little scene without comment. Although she was in no doubt as to why Angela wanted to be alone with her, she wasn't quite as certain that she was ready to talk about Booth.

"Dr. Hodgins seems very capable," she said, when Angela turned around.

Angela moved a stack of books from a chair in front of Brennan's desk and sat down. When she crossed her legs, her foot started to bounce. "He is. Cute, too. I would call dibs but I don't think that's going to be an issue."

Brennan avoided the penetrating gaze directed at her by making a neat little pile of the telegrams that had come in while she was away. "What do you mean?"

She didn't expect the pretense of ignorance to work, and it didn't. "Oh, come on. You and Captain Fantastic? The man looks at you like a kid with a Hershey bar. What's going on?"

Brennan sank down in her own chair as if the world was suddenly unsteady beneath her feet. And it was, she realized, and had been since the first moment she laid eyes on Booth. Confiding in Angela, especially given her plainspoken attitude, might be just what she needed to make sense of the confusing muddle of thoughts and emotions that roiled her usual placid composure. Not to mention her outsized reaction to Booth's physical presence . . .

"I'm not sure where to start. It all seems so incredulous."

Angela threw up a hand, stopping her before she could say anything else. "Wait! Do you have anything to drink in here? Wine? A bottle of whiskey?"

The question threw Brennan for a loop. "No. Why?"

Angela snapped her fingers. "Too bad. I have a feeling this story would go a lot better with alcohol. Oh well. Carry on." She gave Brennan a fluttery little wave.

"Yes, well, he's . . . taking me to dinner on Saturday." She couldn't prevent the smile that curved her lips as she thought back to that moment on the train. He'd seemed as surprised as she was, but it quickly morphed into a certainty that wiped away her own fleeting hesitation. Angela, seeing that smile, nodded in approval.

"Works fast, doesn't he? Good for him."

A hint of colour tinged Brennan's cheeks as she toyed with the stack of telegrams. "He kissed me."

The careful peek beneath her lashes was rewarded when Angela gaped at her in shock.

"Like, a kiss on the cheek to say hey, or a real kiss?" The look on Brennan's face was all the answer Angela needed. She was delighted. "Oh, yeah, he's definitely a fast worker."

An innate honesty compelled Brennan to explain. "No, it wasn't like that. It was before we'd even been introduced, actually. He was hit in the head with a baseball - -"

"And fell on your lips?"

Brennan chided her with a look. "No. He was knocked unconscious by the hit. I was the only person there with any knowledge of medicine or anatomy - -"

"You looked at his anatomy?"

"Would you stop!"

Laughing, Angela held up both hands. "Okay, okay. Are you sure you don't have any wine?"