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Finding Bones	By : MariaTeresaQuintanar Category: 1 through F > Bones Views: 2697 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, The Finder, or any of the other television shows mentioned. I do not make any moneys from this story.

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Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!
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Chapter Six

            Lowering her gun, Isabel breathed, “Walter? Is that really you?”
            “I sure hope so!” he said. “Isabel! How the hell are you?”
            “How the hell…What are you doing out of the prison hospital?” she yelled at him, putting away her weapon. “What the heck is going on here! When did you get out of the coma? Why is that woman glaring at me with a knife in her hand?”
            They all looked over to Maggie who dropped the butter knife, holding both hands up. “That was so not what it looked like!”
            “One question at a time,” Walter said, turning back over to Isabel. “Let’s go get some privacy.”
            He walked ahead of her over to the backyard area. “No hello?”
            “Oh God, Walter, I’d never thought I would ever speak to you again!” She hugged him and received one in turn. “When did you wake up?” Pulling back she looked up at him. “Did Leo find a way to get you out?”
            “I knew sooner or later I’d get out of that coma—which I did several times over the course of the last six months,” Walter told her. “I woke up about two days ago. And no, Leo didn’t find a way to get me out. When was the last time you heard from him?”
            She frowned. “I don’t know. About four months ago was the last time we spoke. He called to let me know that he was selling the bar and looking for Willa.” Her face turned serious. “I had some friends keeping an eye on this place as it was clear that it wouldn’t be sold any time soon. When I got a phone call that a bunch of people were squatting and that one of them looked like you, I caught the first plane over that I could.”
            “What are you doing in Los Angeles?” he asked her.
            “I transferred over to L.A. after everything happened. I…I just couldn’t stay here any more. My coworkers didn’t trust me despite me still being good at my job. Seeing you like you were, I couldn’t take it.” She took out the cuffs and said, “I’m going to have to take you into custody, Walter.”
            “There’s the rub!” he exclaimed to her, backing away from her. “I’m in F.B.I. custody.”
            “What?!” she snapped at him. “You need to be in the mental hospital! You’re not right in the head, Walter! You killed two men in cold blood!”
            “It was self defense,” he told her, his voice low and hard. “But because I pissed off your bosses as well as the people over at the Witness Protection Program, I get fucked.” His harsh curse had her flinching a bit. “And because you’re too busy trying to break the glass ceiling into your supposed dream job at the Secret Service, you were too scared to do anything! And again, I get fucked.”
            “It’s not what you think!” She tried to touch him, only to have him backing away from her with his arms up.
            “What did you say to Leo?”
            “W-what do you mean? I didn’t…”
            “He would have never put the bar up for sale,” he told her in a hard voice. “Ever. What did you tell him?”
            Tears filled her eyes, as she said, “I told him that there was no reason to stay here. That I…that we were better off starting over…” Walter threw a plastic chair, causing Isabel to gasp. “I’m sorry.” She sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Walter. I didn’t know he would leave. I just couldn’t stay.”
            “Dinner’s ready!” Angela called out. “Come on over!”
            Walter looked over to the bar and said, “You’re welcomed to join us for the meal.” Clearing his throat he said, “You’ll probably need to get caught up with what’s going on.”
***
            Booth spoke to Isabel, handing over the papers she would need to confirm that Walter was in deed in F.B.I. custody. Most everyone else was chatting amiably as the meal went on. Max was showing Maggie sketches of what a lemon or pickle operated clock looked like.
            Her giggling called the attention of the others there. “What’s he showing you, sweetie?” Angie asked her.
            “Did you know the clocks that can be run with pickles or lemons are real?” She showed her the drawing. “That is like the neatest thing ever!”
            “Is she for real?” Hodgins asked of their small group.
            “Chances are she didn’t attend school at all,” Brennan pointed out to him. “And what learning she did have was limited due to her family’s influence.”
            “Yeah, and it didn’t help that my brother was psychotic and my mother hated me from the moment I was born,” Maggie told them. “But enough of that.” Turning to Max, she asked, “Why would someone shoot a laser into Jell-O?”
            It was Jack who said quietly to his wife, “It would appear she’s a squint at heart.”
            Giggling she nodded and went back to watching Max explain about light and it’s reflective and refractive nature.
            “So you’re a Romani Gypsy, huh? You must have some great stories to tell!” Max murmured.
            “Well, the thing is that we can’t talk about the family with outsiders,” she told him, looking a bit upset that she couldn’t tell him. “I wish I could. You’ve shown me some wonderful things with the light and the clock and everything. But I’m in enough trouble as it is with some of them.” She took a sip of her beer and said, “About the best I can tell you is that it’s like being in a weird mix of the Italian mafia and ‘Fight Club’.” She looked to Angie adding, “Only no Brad Pit. And even if there were a Brad Pitt, chances are you’re related to them.” There was a cry from the other room. “Staccato is awake.”
            “His first name is Michael,” Hodgins told her, as Angie went to go get him.
            “Your father-in-law got it right,” Maggie told him. “Staccato Mamba is his universal name, because much like your father-in-law your son can hear the music of the universe…” Her voice stopped as her world seemed to change suddenly.
            Everything around her seemed to swirl like she was a spinning top, until it stopped slightly and she saw Shad trying to look at her. Her heart just about stopped in her chest, as the world moved back out of focus once again.
            “Maggie?” Walter questioned as she stood up, looking as she was trying to fight something. “Maggie, answer me!”
            The world spun again and it took everything within her not to fall as she practically ran out the doors of the bar. Falling to her knees in the coral sand, she couldn’t focus on anything. Shad. Oh God, not him! Not now!
            “Magdalena!” Walter’s voice cut through the din of chaos and seemed to put the brakes on the torrent that had been going on.
            Blinking she turned to face Walter as he walked over to her. She sobbed as he picked her up, holding her tightly. “He knows! Walter, he knows I got out!”
            “Shh, sunshine, I got you,” he breathed, rocking her as he turned to look at the others there watching them. He scooped her up off of the ground, carrying her over to the bar. Sitting her on top of it, he made her look him in the eyes. “You hurt your knees.”
            She looked down at them for the first time and saw them bleeding through the scrubs. “I was a Dervish too busy spinning to notice.”
            “I’m a doctor,” Cam said. “I can clean up her knees, if you want.”
            “That would be great,” Walter told her. “And what with everything going on, it would seem we forgot to get you something to wear.”
            She sniffed at the scrubs she was wearing, muttering, “I’m ripe.”
            “I should have a dress that can fit her,” Angie said, rushing off to get it.
            Soon Maggie was cleaned and patched up, wearing a dress that her delicate form swam in. Walter had watched as Dr. Saroyan had took care cleaning her knees, picking out the small pieces of coral that had imbedded themselves into her skin.
            “I think you should heal up right as rain,” Camille told her. “And I don’t think there should be a problem with scars.”
            Before Maggie could say anything, Angie whispered to her, “I saw her back. Trust me when I say, those skinned knees aren’t the worst thing that woman has come across.” Cam was about to say something when the dress fell off of her shoulder and revealed scars crisscrossing her skin that went past to her back.
            “What the hell?” Camille whispered, going over to her and pulling the dress down to look at her back. Brennan rushed over and gasped as the woman next to her breathed, “Oh my God.”
            Scar after scar littered her back. One overlapping the other until it looked more like an abstract painting and not human skin. Booth went over and cursed at the sight. Sweets looked at it and sighed. Having seen it before he didn’t have the same emotional reactions the others were having, but he felt for her just the same.
            “My brother is the monster in my closet, he is the raptor under my bed and my waking nightmare,” she stated, pulling the dress up. “One day I will wake up. One day soon I hope.” A withered sigh left her lips. “Fucking Adele is back. Walter…”
            “Taking care of that now!” He turned on the jukebox and put on Credence Clearwater Revival. “Now that’s music!” Scooping her off of the bar, he made her laugh as he began dancing with her.
            Isabel watched in stunned silence, as he went moving to the music with his sole focus being the woman in his arms. Once the song was over, he put her down in one of the chairs and kissed both her knees.
            “Now they’ll get better for sure,” he assured her, gaining another laugh from her. “I need to have another private chat with Isabel. I’ll be back.” Looking over to Booth he said, “When the music stops playing, could you pop in some more coins for the tunes?”
            “Sure thing,” he said, strolling over to see what the selection was.
            Sweets walked up next to him, murmuring, “Did you hear her wording?” Booth lifted his head slightly, indicating that he was listening, “‘My brother is the monster in my closet, he is the raptor under my bed and my waking nightmare’.” He looked over to Maggie, who was being taught how a clock could be operated by a lemon or pickle by several of the scientists there. “I bet you he’s still alive.” Sweets looked to Booth. “And if he is, just who was that man they found killed along side of her mother?”
            Outside Walter stood there waiting for the boom to fall. He had been expecting it since he ran out after Maggie, yelling her full name.
            “That’s Magdalena? The one that you kept yelling the name of in your sleep?” her voice was hard.
            “Yeah,” he answered quietly.
            “You were cheating on me with her?” she demanded.
            “Technically, we had a contract,” he told her. “We were open to see whomever we wanted. Remember?” Her face flashed with pain at his words, but she said nothing. “And if you want to get even further into technicalities, I was cheating on her with you.”
            Her brown eyes flashed with fury. “What do you mean?”
            “Maggie’s my wife, Isabel. She has been since Afghanistan.”
            Shock quickly replaced the fury, leaving her weak in the knees.
            “It was good between the two of us,” Walter told her quietly, picking up her left hand. “And I was pretty damn lucky to have had you in my life for that time.” His thumb ran over the pale strip of skin that now marred the ring finger. “But we both have someone else, don’t we?”
            Clearing her throat, she whispered, “I met Logan when I got to L.A. We hit it off and…” She cleared her throat. “He just asked me to marry him last month.”
            He grinned. “And you said yes.” Hugging her, he murmured, “I’m so happy for you!”
            “You are?” she asked.
            Pulling away from her, he said, “Whatever else we ever were to each other one thing will always remain true—you’re my friend.”
            Back inside the bar, Maggie smiled to herself as it felt as if a weight were lifted from her shoulders. Absently she rubbed her ring finger, thinking of how Shad had taken it from her. Chances were that she wouldn’t see it again. May be with everything going on, she’d get another one? And perhaps this time it wouldn’t be made out of a bullet casing.

TBC...
***
There you go! Thanks for reading and remember if you have any comments, questions, or the like to review. I'm not a mind reader. I need to be told these things. Thanks! And have a great week.
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Finding Bones