She doesn't answer when he calls.
(He tells himself not to worry. She and Christine are probably on the way home, and she's fanatical about not answering the phone when she's behind the wheel.)
He waits ten minutes before calling again.
She doesn't answer.
(It's a fifteen minute drive. She's probably still in the car.)
The next ten minutes crawl by. He calls again. No answer.
(He checks the traffic report. No major accidents. No unusual delays.)
Thirty minutes after his first call, he's forgotten his question about dinner and jumped straight to full-blown panic. Pelant is still out there, and Brennan is still not answering her phone.
(If he could talk to her, she'd point out how irrational he's being. Of course, if he could talk to her, he wouldn't be irrational.)
He dials Cam as he races down the stairs. The call rolls over to voicemail just as he hits the entrance to the parking garage. Forty-two seconds later he peels out of the garage, lights flashing and sirens blaring.
(He tries to pray, but the words won't come.)
The red & blue lights from the truck, illegally abandoned outside, reflect off the marble floors as Booth races through the badge reader. The wailing of the alarm masks the sound of the security guard calling for backup.
(Security's not going to stop him, and a little backup wouldn't hurt.)
The Medico-Legal lab is deserted. It looks … well, it looks like it always looks, all glass and steel, high tech equipment contrasting with insects and human remains. There are no signs of a struggle, no indication that anything is amiss.
Except she's still not answering her phone.
(Shouldn't there at least be a squintern hanging around to tell him what's going on?)
Blue-coated squints stare as he races to the daycare, three security guards in his wake. "Dr. Brennan picked up Christine an hour ago", the cheery daycare worker tells him.
(She looks nervous. He's probably scaring her. He'll regret that eventually.)
It takes five minutes and liberal application of his FBI badge to shake free of the security guards. He's seen most of them before and they'd like to help, but there are no signs of anything amiss at the Jeffersonian, so there's not much they can do.
There's not much he can do, either. He can't really open a missing person's report based on Bones not answering the phone.
(She's taken Christine and run before. A traitorous part of him wonders if she's done it again.)
He gets in the truck and starts home. He pulls out onto a street he's driven down hundreds of time, absently noting the familiar landmarks – the edge of the Jeffersonian gardens, that house he's always secretly thought must be haunted, the Royal Diner. As he drives past the diner, he catches a glimpse of Hodgins, leaning across the table to drive home whatever point he's making.
He pulls to the curb, throws on the lights, and runs inside, gasping like he's run a marathon.
He stumbles to a halt when he's close enough to count heads – Cam, waving him over; Hodgins, laughing at his own story; Angela, with Michael Vincent on her lap; Wendell, shaking his head at Hodgins's tale. No Bones. No Christine.
(Where are they?)
"Booth?"
He whirls around to see her standing in front him, Christine in her arms. Her voice is calm, and she looks both pleased and surprised to see him.
He holds on to the door frame so his knees don't buckle.
He must look terrified, because her smile fades and her brow furrows. "Is everything OK?"
He steps forward and wraps his arms around them, squeezing just a little too tight, his head buried in her neck. He feels the diaper bag slung over her shoulder bump his side as she wraps her free arm around him, and he doesn't let go until Christine squawks in protest.
He steadies himself and takes his first full breath since he decided to ask whether she wanted him to pick up dinner on the way home. She's still staring at him, and the words spill out, "You didn't answer the phone." It sounds like an accusation.
She fishes her cell phone out of her pocket and looks at it. "It's dead. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."
He nods in acceptance, but can't find the words to respond. They stand in silence for a moment, then she gestures at the table of squints. "Do you want to join us? Angela insisted we leave work early to celebrate spring, even though it's not actually spring for another seventeen days."
He shakes his head. "I just want to go home."
She nods and hands him Christine. He hugs their daughter close as Brennan makes her excuses. Angela sends him a flirty smile and gestures at a free chair, but he shakes his head, forcing his lips to curve into an answering smile.
It seems like a year before Brennan is back. She hands him Christine's jacket as she pays for her coffee, and soon they're on their way home, Brennan's Prius sitting abandoned in the Jeffersonian parking structure.
They drive in silence. Even Christine is quiet, nodding off in her car seat. He's too overwhelmed to make small talk, torn between embarrassment and relief. He pulls into the driveway and they get out.
He unbuckles the sleeping child and pulls her into his arms, her limp form a dead weight as they walk into the house. He lays her in her playpen and unzips her jacket. When he straightens, Brennan wraps her arms around him. "I really am sorry I worried you."
He crushes her to him. "Pelant's still out there, Bones."
He can feel her nod. "I know. But we're safe."
"For today." He pulls back and looks her in the eyes. "I wondered … I thought maybe you'd taken Christine and left again."
The implications slap her in the face. She stands, absorbing the blow. She wants to protest, to point out the reasons she needed to run before, the reasons she needs to stay now, but she knows she'd run again, protect herself and her daughter if she had to. Booth knows that, too.
But leaving once was the hardest thing she's ever done. She takes a breath. "I love you, Booth. I don't want to leave."
His eyes meet hers, reading the truth behind her words. "I don't want you to leave, either."
She smiles, and he smiles back. "I love you, Bones." He steps forward and wraps his arm around her waist as they walk towards the kitchen.
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I'm thinking of doing one of two things - either resurrecting a previous series of one-shots or starting a new one. The previous series is about B/B as a couple. The new one would be AU one-shots. Any preferences? And while you're at it, let me know what you think of this one. Thanks.