"Bones, where do you keep the glasses?"
"In the cabinet next to the fridge." Booth reached for the handle with his right hand and opened the fridge with his left. He pulled out a tumbler taking note of how the glasses were arranged in a very meticulous pattern: a row of six then a row of five just like the stars on the flag. Hot Blooded still flooded the apartment, and Booth cursed Bones' choice of beverages. "Turkish beer, store-brand cola, and distilled water—how does she live with no T.V. and nothing to drink?"
He decided on the cola and slammed the door. The awkward moment that had previously presented itself still hung in the air when he walked back to the couch. Brennan was sorting through the CDs she thought Booth would enjoy and chose some smooth jazz to lighten the mood.
"So it's 10:30, and I'm not tired. What do you want to do?"
"Hmm let's see you don't have TV, no good music, obviously board games are out of the question…do you have playing cards?"
"Oh yes I do. I got them in Indonesia when I was there identifying victims after the tsunami last year."
"Do they at least have numbers on them?"
"In a way…"
The partners sat for dozens of songs playing Go Fish, the only game Brennan knew. She had beaten Booth at 9 games out of 13 because according to Booth having to remember which number of dots on the card corresponded to which numbers was just too confusing. At 12:30 Brennan announced she was going to bed and that Booth was welcome to sleep on the couch and there were blankets and pillows in the closet by the bathroom. "Oh no Bones I'm not sleeping, not tonight. I'm a light sleeper, but there's no way I'll be able to protect you if I'm groggy."
"But how will you protect me tomorrow if you're falling asleep on my shoulder?"
"Old Ranger technique, Bones, I'll be up all night and still feel awake in the morning."
"Fine. Goodnight Booth."
"'Night Bones."
Brennan retreated into her room closing the blinds and keeping her door ajar so Booth could hear if anything went wrong. She climbed under the sheets and clicked off the light. She heard Booth turning the pages of her anthropology magazines and swirling the ice in his empty glass, but even the noise couldn't shake the horrible thoughts out of her mind. Was it four shots or five? There was so much broken glass. Who shot at me? Where was David? He was so late. Why was the girl murdered? There's so much to do at the lab tomorrow, Zach can't handle it by himself. Brennan kept telling herself to close her mind and fall asleep all the while Booth was desperately trying to stay awake. "Old Ranger technique?" Who the hell was I kidding? I've never stayed awake all night. No Booth, eyes open! I know, music will help. He dug through the layers of CDs on Brennan's shelf until he found another "guilty pleasure" and stuck it in the player. Booth turned the volume all the way down or what he thought was down and paused the music. He spotted a pair or headphones on the side table.
Brennan was going over every detail of the twenty second shooting thinking about every emotion, sound, and feeling she could remember. Booth found the hole for the headphone jack, and just as he stuck the jack in Brennan was counting the shots. One, two, three, four… BOOM! As Brennan counted the last shot, Booth inserted the jack into the stereo which he had accidentally turned all the way up made a huge noise that echoed throughout the apartment. Brennan leapt out of bed panting and terrified desperately hoping it was Booth who had fired the shot.