AN: Title comes from Joanna Newsom's "Anecdotes".
Set during the first half of season 11, after Jared died, but before Hodgins was paralysed.
He fiddles with his gambling sobriety chip, flipping it between his fingers in an anxious movement as he sits in his office discussing the case. Another young girl – this time only three years old – has been reported missing. This follows a string of disappearances of girls around the ages of four to six over the past few months. So far the investigation has turned up five bodies of young, innocent children and no sufficient leads.
As time progresses and more and more people are beginning to catch on to the suspicious number of missing children, the stakes intensify. It doesn't help that the person responsible appears to be escalating; his two most recent victims (that they've found) were murdered at the same time and now, just a few days later, another girl has gone missing. There's only so much longer they can keep this case under wraps before it leaks to the press and all hell breaks loose across the entire District of Colombia.
Booth rubs his eyes wearily as he stares at his computer screen willing something, anything, from the evidence to scream out at him and provide him with a lead. He has the DoJ breathing down his neck to solve this one, the families of the victims wanting to lock up the killer and the internal pressure of having three kids himself, understanding the pain the families must be feeling right at this moment. He knows if it were one of his, he doesn't think he could survive and he certainly wouldn't rest until the person was brought to justice, which is why he determines to keep fighting. He doesn't want to let the parents down, all the victims' families and friends; he wouldn't forgive himself if he did. So he works continuously from seven in the morning until early hours the following day and the bags under his eyes are evidence that the exhaustion is beginning to take its toll. He desperately needs to sleep for about one month straight, but there's somebody out there abducting, abusing and murdering young children like his own. He can't stop – he won't, not while the killer is out there, free, subjecting more and more innocent lives to pain and suffering.
He answers his phone when it rings, listening carefully as he is informed that another body of a young girl has been discovered at the edge of the Potomac, bringing the total body count up to six, although the techs cannot confirm or deny whether it is the body of Lily Edwards, the missing girl, until the squints back at the Jeffersonian analyse it.
They tell him that the body is small and slight with short, brown hair and although it's likely to be Lily's corpse, to not get his hopes up for them to be crushed once again.
He mutters a quick "thank you", however, he doesn't feel grateful for the news at all and hangs up the phone, letting out a deep, exhausted sigh.
He flicks his chip through the air, catching it and smoothing the pad of his thumb over the design on the front. He's slowly but surely recovering, even though cases like this make him want to disappear to Vegas forever to forget his worries.
He glances at a framed picture on his desk, one a nurse had taken in the hospital after their second son had been born and reminds himself why he can't relapse. His family needs him and, truth be told, he needs them, too.
Booth doesn't say anything for a while, staring intently at his family's photograph. Brennan's smile bright and beaming as she proudly admires the new-born in her arms, looking beautiful despite the wet strands of hair that cling to her face and unflattering hospital gown. His daughter lies beside them in the bed, her smile identical to her mother's. He longs for the time, later in the day, when he can embrace his family and know they're safe, that nothing bad can happen to them.
"This guy is getting worse and worse," Aubrey laments, pulling a disgusted face as he flicks through the case file and catches a glimpse of the numerous decomposed bodies of the children.
"Tell me about it," he responds, letting out a breath of air in a half-sigh, half-chuckle type sound.
The killer is highly intelligent, experienced and is likely to have had medical training at some level in order to carry out the traceless kills they've accomplished so far. He changes his MO each time he kills in what Booth thinks is a way of distracting the authorities from the serial nature of the crime. Poisoning. Gun shot wound. Blunt force trauma. Starvation. Drowning. The only link they can find between the cases is the similar victimology and the strategic placement of the bodies always alongside a body of water.
He opens the pictures of all six crime scenes. Each victim is positioned similarly, lying on their side, curled up slightly, dressed in pyjamas, as though they are sleeping peacefully.
The Jeffersonian have examined the pyjamas and blankets found with each victim, but have – once again – drawn blanks. A common theme in this emotionally gruelling case.
"The signature body disposal must be important," he tells his partner, rotating the computer screen so the younger agent can see it. "The method of killing changes each time; it isn't important. As long as they're dead, the killer doesn't seem to care how it happens. However, the placement of the body remains consistent for each victim, so clearly that's what the killer finds significant. Perhaps it's the reason why they're doing this."
He agrees. "I'll take these pictures to the profilers, see what they think," Aubrey replies leaving the office.
Booth sits in his chair for a while longer, but realises that there's nothing more he can do here, not today, and, for once in this case, decides to take an early night to spend time with his family.
He arrives just as Brennan is about to serve dinner and his five year old, his little Christine, runs to the door to meet him. He smoothly picks her up, scattering kisses over her face, making her giggle and loving the sound. She clings on tightly to him as he carries her through to the dining area where Hank, his youngest, is already sat in his high chair.
Hank's eyes light up when he spots his father and he eagerly holds out his hands towards Booth. He puts Christine down in exchange for the seven month old who he hugs tightly. It feels good to just hold his son – his precious baby boy – and forget about everything at work for a while.
Brennan enters the dining area, plates in hand. She puts Hank's baby meal of mashed potatoes and vegetables on the tray of his high chair (which Booth has re-seated him in) and Christine's leftover lasagne in front of her. She returns to the kitchen for her and Booth's food, her husband trailing behind her to collect the various drinks.
Work has been chaotic ever since they returned and it feels like forever since they all shared a family meal together. Booth determines that, no matter the size of the storm raging at work, they have to make time for this, for their family. This case is teaching him, if nothing else, that it's important to savour family time while you can because there are monsters out there and you never know when everything could be harshly torn away from you.
He's listening intently, minutes later, as Christine recounts her day at school to him, sparing no detail. She's so like her mother, he thinks, from her eyes to her smile and the way she's somehow mastered her mother's headtilt and the stern expression he dubs "Brennan's schoolteacher look". They talk in exactly the same way, Christine selecting unusually long words that children her age shouldn't know. She's very smart though, taking after her mom. He thinks she's probably too smart for her own good when she brings up the murders that they'd apparently been discussing in class. One of the other students was related to a victim, according to his tiny genius.
Brennan's eyes widen in shock as she looks immediately to Booth for guidance. He doesn't know what to say either, how to explain this to his little girl without exposing her to the horror of the situation. He wants to be able to protect her from the world in which he lives in, a world full of murder and cruelty. He wants to cocoon her (and Parker and Hank) away from it all for as long as he possibly can, although he knows it's unlikely for his children to be shielded from his work forever.
His wife hates lying, especially to Christine. She always says exactly what's on her mind, but when their daughter asks them, her tone afraid, if she'll be safe, her heart breaks. She kneels in front of the small girl, takes her hands, squeezes them comfortingly and promises that mommy and daddy won't let anybody hurt her. She'd normally say she can't make a promise like that, but Christine already looks terrified and Brennan doesn't want to make the situation worse.
They finish their meal and Brennan takes Hank for a bath, the baby having missed his mouth entirely, smothering food throughout his face, body and hair instead. Booth sits on the sofa, Christine leaning into his side as she watches her favourite show. He grimaces at the excessively bright colours, over-acting that's uncomfortable to watch and the garish music. His daughter seems to be happy though and it makes it all worthwhile. After a couple of episodes, he decides she's watched enough for the evening and tells her to get ready for bed.
"Daddy, I'm scared," she confesses once she's dressed in her pyjamas and lying in bed.
His face falls. If he didn't have enough motivation to catch this killer before, he sure as hell does now. Booth squeezes onto the bed beside her and wraps his arm around her. She snuggles impossibly close to him, trapping him next to her. He gently strokes her hair and, eventually, after several soft lullabies, she drifts off to sleep, her grip on him loosening. He kisses her temple, lingering there for a moment, silently promising that he'll make sure nothing ever happens to her and that he'll arrest this bastard. He leaves then, undressing and climbing into bed with his wife, who's already in a deep sleep.
The next morning, he's sat in his office, Cam opposite him as they rake through the case files, discussing the preliminary results of the latest victim, including the fact that she is Lily Edwards, the missing girl and that a fractured hyoid suggests that strangulation is the cause of death, however Dr. Brennan is still examining the remains.
He receives a phone call and a wave of fear seizes him. He already knows what it is – another girl has gone missing and he doesn't particularly want to answer it. He wants to block out all the murder and cruelty and injustice and lets the call go to message. Cam glares at him for avoiding his responsibilities, rivalling his wife in terms of scariness. When the person immediately rings back, he picks up the phone, but wishes he hadn't, the ground falling from below his feet as he hears the words he never wanted to hear:
"Agent Booth, your daughter has gone missing."
This is the first properly angsty/case fic I'm writing and although a large proportion of this story is already written, I'd really appreciate any feedback you could give me (good OR bad) so I can make this story the best it possibly can be.
Thank you for reading! :)