Best Laid Plans
Chapter 2
Bones is NOT mine.
~•~
He was asleep...dead to the world. She had some things to prepare before she too could finally rest. ..how long ago had it been since I really had any rest?... a break from the nightmares the thoughts constantly nagging me... But it was best to do these things now. She gently closed the bedroom door. Digging around in her pack, she found her headlight. Making her way back into the kitchen she grabbed one of the cloth bags she used for groceries, this one had what she needed. She unlocked the door to the basement. Sliding the headlamps switch to "on" she was rewarded by a brightly illuminated staircase leading down to basement. It was finished with a concrete floor and painted block walls. There were shelves and cabinets along the far wall. As well as, base cabinets, a long counter-top and a large stainless steel sink. The shelves where stocked with an array of canned goods. Large buckets with color coded lids labeled with the names of grains. Enough food and other necessities to last through at least a winter.. maybe more. The owner had embraced the idea of prepping for disaster. In fact this cabin was his first concept... but he would use the proceeds of its sell to fund a bigger, better place. She wasn't interested in its use for survival. For her it was the remote location... that mattered. The fact that the seller didn't mind keeping this between them... no realtor .. no middlemen ..mattered. When she had asked him if she could pay cash...his eyes raised in only momentary suspicion. But he had many secretive "prepper" friends who liked to keep their business theirs and no one else... so no he didn't mind at all. And no one knew. Not even her beloved husband knew about her cabin in the woods. That mattered too. She stepped further into the dark, room... with each step the memory of being led into the confines of another dark subterranean space, the place where all this had began, crept into her mind. Unlike her little finished basement which was dry and reasonably sterile. Cameron's euphemistically named "wine cellar" was a dank cavern, a labyrinthian nightmare. Suited perfectly to his sadistic needs. It had stunk of damp earth, waste and death. Unlike her singular room, he had several, most served as cells for his "guests" but one open gallery was his playroom... their..playroom. Ultimately, it was the scene of his demise. Booths perfect shot had sent the bullet through Camerons temple just as his hand brought the blade across her throat. A deep scratch...it was the last touch of pain he would ever inflict on anyone. But he had inflicted such deep wounds already. Not a moment since had passed without something, an odor, a sound, a phrase... pulling her mind back into that place again. She wondered at times if she had ever really left... was all this "reality" just a construct of her mind trying to cope with her new life... was Cameron truly gone or was it just another game. No Cameron was dead.. he was. Booth saved me! She had made it back to her husband...to her daughter...her life... The life she had ..before. And she tried... tried so hard to push it away, to forget her time in the Camerons captivity. She obeyed the doctors, rested... healed. She even agreed to talk to her companion sleeping upstairs in session after pointless session.. to prove she was fine.. fit to return to work. After failing to offer any new insights into her troubled mind and seeming to not display any obvious reasons why she should not be allowed to resume her role as Booths partner, he was pressured, on many sides, to sign off on her return. He did. But she could tell.. he saw through her... he will tell them ...tell Booth.. He will realize what I did.. tell everyone and they will turn on me... leave me... Booth would leave and take Christine away from her...No!...
She had hoped that once she was back at the lab, embraced by the familiar comfort of her work, the thoughts would abate... disappear into the recesses of her brilliant mind. Tucked away in a compartment never to be brought out again. Instead... she found the many quiet moments filled with cries of her fellow inmates. The muffled sounds of panic, when they caught sight of the next cutting instrument to be utilized in their torture. The pleading, begging. ..."the music ".. he had called it... The sound would become a deafening crescendo .. until she would give up and rush home. Only at home, surrounded by the love of and for her family did the voices quiet. ...but I played my part in that symphony of horror...too well... too easily... She strode over to the counter beside the sink, tossing bag down, the clink of metal on metal suddenly filled the soundless void, filling her with an irrational fear she might have been heard. The light flashed to the stairway and door above. Then she calmed her fears and resumed her activity. She emptied the contents of the bag on to the counter... each item in its proper place. This task finished she looked to the center of the room, everything seemed to be in order. Yawning .. she looked through the small dark rectangular window near the top of the ceiling. Morning would come very soon. A couple of hours of restless sleeplessness would be the best she could hope for. She crept back up the stairs locking the door behind her.
When she reached the top of the log staircase she heard a faint voice mumbling through the door. He was talking in his sleep again. She recalled his time as their houseguest, the many times, she being a light sleeper would awaken to the often incoherent mumbling. But sometimes... when he was especially exhausted it was clear conversation. Out of respect of his privacy, she had tried to not listen in. But that was a different time... this was now. She stepped gingerly next to the door. She was rewarded with a loud clearly uttered, "Stop!" ...mumbling then "...should have listened!"... babble..."No Agent Carson..just because your twin came out doesn't mean you.." back to babbling... At that moment she had to stifle a chuckle...She sometimes forgot he didn't just listen to her and Booths issues but a slew of others, and those issues that ran the gambit from serious to silly. But the amusement died, when it dawned on her, had he ever spoke about her... mentioned her fears..her confidences in his sleep. Had Ms. Wick ever heard the intimate details of one of their sessions... or anyone else. ...see this is why it had to be you... She left the door and slipped quietly into her own room.
Soon she was lying on the foreign mattress, on the new pillow, beneath the scratchy new blanket... thinking. This weekend was all about finding... herself again. Her time with Cameron... had changed her... caused her to question everything ...who she ever thought she was. She needed clarity... and talking wasn't enough... she needed hard proof. ... Am I the same as Cameron now? ...
~•~
And there we have it a short chapter...hope it isn't too terrible.
Thank you.. seriously... thank you for the reviews and follows makes my day.
