Brennan sat up in her bed abruptly with a strange taste in her mouth and a sick feeling that something wasn't quite right. The bedside clock read four o'clock in the morning, but the last she remembered, it was seven in the evening and she was getting home from work. She tried to remember whether or not she'd been drinking but her mind was frighteningly blank. Brennan took a deep, determined breath and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Her feet hit the floor with a loud clunk. She was still wearing the boots she had worn to work. Glancing over herself, she realized that she was also wearing the clothes and jewelry she had worn to work. Her heart froze in her chest. There was no chance that she had gotten into bed without at least taking off her shoes. Someone had placed her there.
Brennan swallowed hard. There was little she liked less than not being in control of herself. How much had she drunk last night that someone would have had to place her in bed? She stood stiffly in her dark room, frantically shuffling through her scattered memories of the previous night.
No, she decided suddenly. There was no way she had been drinking last night. She had work in the morning and she was in the middle of an important case with Booth. She would never get drunk in the middle of an on-going investigation. Booth and Brennan always at least waited until the case was solved to take celebratory shots.
Booth, she thought, relaxing slightly for the first time since she'd awoken so suddenly. They had eaten dinner together last night. He had to know what happened. Holding on to this sliver of hope and attempting to ignore the way her heart was hammering in her chest, Brennan's hand went to her bedside table where she always kept her cell phone.
Her hand met the smooth, empty surface. It wasn't there. Brennan's eyes swept her dark bedroom, finally resting on the chest of drawers directly across from her bed. Her cell phone sat on top, propped upright, as though it had been deliberately placed there.
Feeling almost as if she were in some sort of bizarre dream, Brennan walked to her dresser. Her hand stretched out in front of her and she ignored its slight tremor as her fingers closed around the familiar shape of her phone. The minutes she lifted the phone off the drawers she noticed a distinct difference in its weight- it was too light.
Transfixed by the surreal nature of the situation, Brennan flipped the phone around in her palm. The battery was gone. Her mind not yet processing the situation, Brennan's fingers still dialed Booth's numbers on the unresponsive buttons. The phone's blank screen glared up at her.
Her hand now shaking too severely to ignore, Brennan placed the phone back where she had found it, and finally admitted to herself that she was afraid. Whoever had put her to bed last night didn't want her to be able to contact anyone. Whoever had put her to bed last night could still be in her apartment.
A shiver ran up her spine at this realization, but a resolve also hardened within her. She'd never been one to succumb to fear, and she wasn't about to start now. Bending down, Brennan removed her shoes and walked back towards her bed, her bare feet silent against the wooden floor. She crouched by her bed and carefully slid her arm between the mattresses, her fingers searching deliberately.
Her fingers finally closed around the cool metal of her gun and her lips curved in a tiny smile of victory as she felt some sense of control return. It wasn't until the gun was fully liberated from between her mattress that she realized that just like the cell phone, it was far too light. It wasn't loaded. Feeling suddenly like she might get sick, the gun slid from her limp fingers and landed softly on the bed.
Panic set in as she ripped open drawers with unsteady hands. She tossed out the contents of the drawers, barely acknowledging the mess she was making. When she found the small cardboard box she knew in an instant what she would find, but still forced herself to open it and stare at its empty insides. Someone had taken her ammunition.
Her mind went blank with fear. You aren't helpless, she screamed at herself silently. Do something! But her palms were sweating and her knees were shaking so hard that she had to grab the corners of the bed in order to pull herself to her feet. Her eyes darted frantically throughout the room, searching for something to defend herself with, but she saw nothing useful.
I don't need a weapon to defend myself, she told herself, but this failed to relieve her erratic heart rate as she crept shakily towards her bedroom door. I could get back in bed… she thought irrationally. I could wait until morning… But if there was thing her pride wouldn't tolerate, it was hiding.
Taking a deep, trembling breath, Brennan placed her hands on the door and pushed it open. The hallway was as dark as her room. It didn't look any different than it did any other morning of her life, yet… something was off. Someone had definitely been here. She walked stiffly down the hall, trying to be quiet, her hands clenched in fists and held at the ready.
She rounding the corner quickly, prepared to fight, but was met with an empty living room. She lifted the landline phone off the hook long enough to hear the absence of a dial tone before making her way into the kitchen. Her hand fumbled for the light switch and she stood like a deer in the head lights as the kitchen flooded with light.
Her chest tightened with panic as she was momentarily blinded, but her eyes soon adjusted and she found herself in an empty room. Just as she was releasing the breath that was caught in her lungs, she noticed the manila envelope.
She moved towards the envelope almost in a daze and reached out to touch it with one shaking hand. Her name was written on it in black ink. No stamp, no address- just Temperance Brennan written in an unfamiliar script. Almost out of its own volition, her hand reached towards her letter opener and she sliced through the yellow packaging.
Brennan slanted the envelope towards the counter and plastic wrappings slid out. As her fingers gingerly unfolded the plastic to reveal white bone and oozing blood that stained her countertop, Brennan realized that she knew exactly who had been in her apartment.
She didn't explicitly recall running out her door, but suddenly she was outside and the cold early morning air whipped around her as she gripped the public phone in her still shaking hands. When his confused, sleepy voice finally picked up, Brennan found that she wasn't sure what to say.
"Hello?" Booth's voice rasped over the phone. "Who is this?"
His voice was losing its sleepiness and beginning to sound annoyed. Brennan knew she had to speak up or else he'd hang up, but the stress of her morning had finally hit her. Hazily, she realized that tears were rolling down her cheeks and ragged sobs were escaping from her mouth.
"Bones?" Booth suddenly said, his voice sounding surprised and fearful. "Is that you?"
His voice brought her back to reality. She was huddle over a payphone outside her apartment at the crack of dawn, letting out small, panicked sobs. Shame and embarrassment swept through her, and she vainly tried to control herself.
"Bones, answer me!" Booth was suddenly shouting into the phone.
Brennan swallowed hard, wiping her cheeks clean roughly.
"Booth…" she whispered hoarsely into the phone.
A rush of air sounded into the phone as though Booth had let out a deep breath.
"Where are you?" Booth asked.
The tenderness in his voice barely masked his fear. Brennan's fingers gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white and the cheap phone creaked softly in protest.
"I'm outside my apartment," she replied, hating the waver in her voice.
"Are you hurt?" Booth questioned sharply.
I'm not hurt… Brennan reminded herself. You're scaring Booth, just tell him you're fine. Call the police, let them deal with this. There's no need to drag Booth out of bed. But her voice betrayed her and all she managed to squeak out was a weak "no."
There was a brief silence on the phone line, and for a minute all Brennan could hear was the still frantic thump of her heart and her own ragged breaths.
"I'm on my way," Booth said suddenly and decisively. "Stay on the phone, okay Bones? I'm coming."