Sleep was a long time coming and restless when it did so it was with no real surprise that Booth found the other side of the bed empty when he woke again in the dark hours after midnight. Brennan was standing in the hallway outside their room, arms hugged tight around her middle, her head swinging left and right as she stared through the partly-open doors of first Christine's and then Zach's bedroom. Booth shuffled his feet as he approached, careful to make enough noise that she wouldn't be startled by his presence. From behind, he wrapped his arms over hers and pulled her back against him.
Christine was an invisible, blanket-covered lump but in Zach's room, one large pale foot could be seen poking out from the covers. It twitched as they watched.
Brennan inhaled a sharp, trembling breath. "I couldn't bear it, Booth," she whispered tearfully. "I couldn't. If they're harmed in some way- -"
His arms squeezed hard, cutting her off. The same fear churned in his gut. "Nothing is going to happen to them," he vowed, his voice a rough undertone next to her ear. "Nothing. I promise."
"Those men . . ." Angela's facial recognition software had spit out the identities of the men in the photos almost immediately. "They're petty crooks, that's all. They have lengthy criminal records but nothing in common with each other. Or with us. Their crimes weren't federal. There's no connection- -"
"Yes, there is." Booth interrupted her again, his jaw set in grim lines as Christine mumbled incoherently and rolled to her stomach. "They're connected by whoever hired them. That's who we need to find."
Brennan's head turned so quickly that she bumped his chin.
"Parker! We should call him . . . warn him . . ."
"I will, but Parker is on a tour bus in Louisiana with four other bands, including Billy's," Booth reminded her. "There's plenty of security around him. He's not . . ."
"Vulnerable. But Christine and Zach are." Brennan finished the sentence for him. "We should tell them what's happening. They should be on guard! They take their safety for granted! They should be- -"
"Terrified?" It was a continuation of a discussion they'd had earlier. "Right now, we don't know enough to do anything more than scare them, maybe for no reason. Let's just wait until we have more information, until we know what it is we need to warn them about. Nothing is going to happen to them," he promised again. "Nothing."
Brennan resumed her task of staring into her children's rooms, over and over, as if danger could be held at bay simply by watching them.
"Have you checked the alarm?"
He had, twice before coming to bed and a third time while she'd slept for a few fitful minutes. But he knew that wasn't the answer she wanted.
"Yes, but I'll check it again." Booth kissed her cheek and then left her standing guard while he padded quietly downstairs and checked not only the alarm but for good measure, the rest of the doors and windows.
She was in the same spot when he returned several minutes later. He drew her into his arms.
"Come back to bed . . . For me," he added when she automatically began to protest. It was unfair, he knew, to make her choose between him and their children, but one look at the shadows under her eyes and the lines of worry and exhaustion on her face erased any guilt he might have felt. He piled on ruthlessly. "I need to hold you."
It helped that his face was marked with the same signs of strain and tiredness. After only a brief hesitation, Brennan nodded.
"Alright."
While she settled beneath the blankets, Booth picked up the service revolver he'd left lying on top of his bedside table and checked that a round was already in the chamber. The menacing sound of metal against metal was oddly comforting as it ricocheted across the quiet room.
Brennan went willingly into his embrace when he slid in beside her and pulled her close. Her head rested on his shoulder, one cheek rubbing against the well-washed cotton of his t-shirt. He pressed a kiss into her hair.
"Everything's going to be fine."
He would keep making the promise until they both believed it.
.
.
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The next morning, Christine pulled one half of a bagel from the toaster and smeared it with peanut butter before taking a seat next to Zach, who was already eating breakfast. Neither child noticed anything out of the ordinary about their parents.
"Mom, do you have any money? We're going to the mall after school today. Can I have, like, fifty bucks?"
Brennan had just reached for the coffee pot; glass clattered as she whirled around. "No!"
Christine pouted. "Okay, fine. I guess I can make do with twenty. If I have to."
"No, I meant to say that you are not going to the mall," Brennan clarified quickly. She stuffed the coffee pot back in its place and let her shaky hands hang in front of her, clasped together. "It's out of the question. You're coming straight home. Both of you."
"But why? We don't have soccer practice today!" Christine's plaintive wail took on a distinct whine. "Madison already asked her mom- -"
"CHRISTINE!" Brennan's voice rose sharply as she slapped the counter. "My decision is final. I . . . I am working from home this afternoon so I'll collect you both from school. And I want you to wait inside until I arrive. I don't want you standing around, out in the open . . ."
"Bones." Booth was beside her, his voice soft and calming, one hand spread reassuringly on her back.
Zach had almost stopped chewing as he watched the scene unfold. Now, with his spoon hanging in the air, he spoke around a mouthful of oatmeal. "What's going on?"
Christine wore a suspicious frown, too. "Yea, what's up? Is there a threat to blow up the world we don't know about?"
"Don't be silly." Brennan drew a determined, calming breath and turned away to put the coffee mug she hadn't used in the dishwasher.
"But . . ."
"It's time to go." Booth's tone was implacable and cut off any further conversation. "Zach, if you're done with that bowl, give it to me. You two go get your stuff. We're leaving in five."
They didn't dare argue; Zach quickly swallowed up the last few spoonfuls and dutifully handed the messy dish over while Christine tossed the uneaten portion of her bagel into the trash. Together, they headed for the stairs, leaving their parents alone in the kitchen. The low murmur of voices followed them out.
"What was that all about?" Christine mumbled as they hurried up the steps.
Zach could only shrug, equally at a loss.
The ride to school wasn't any more helpful. Booth was quiet, and if he kept a sharper eye than usual on the traffic around them, neither Christine nor Zach noticed the difference. When he rolled to a stop in the drop-off lane, he laid an arm across the back of the seat beside him and watched as they unhooked their seat belts.
"Don't give your mother any grief this afternoon, okay? Just do as she says." He shook his head when they immediately began to pepper him with questions. "I can't explain right now, but I will. I promise. For now, just . . . just keep your eyes open. Alright? Be aware of what's around you . . . and who."
They grudgingly allowed the subject to drop, said their goodbyes and, together, made their way up the steps and sidewalk to the wide double doors where a teacher waited to welcome students inside. They went immediately to the hallway where their lockers stood side-by-side.
"Well, that was weird," Christine said finally, as she emptied her backpack and shelved the books and papers she didn't need for for the next few classes.
"Yea." Zach performed the same task before a quick glance at his sister brought something else to his notice. "Chris," he said, his voice soft, his hands frozen in place inside his locker. "Look to your right."
She did, and found her glance snared by cool grey eyes. Harland's head dipped in a short nod of greeting.
Christine turned away quickly. "What's he doing here again?" she hissed to Zach. "I saw him yesterday!"
"He was here Monday, too," Zach said quietly. Their eyes met and held. "You think it has something to do with why Mom was so upset?"
Small, even white teeth tugged at her lower lip. "If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck . . ."
"It makes good soup." Zach finished what had been one of Max's favorite sayings.
"Hey!"
Any chance of private conversation between the siblings ended when Madison appeared, Emma and Petra in tow. Other than a brief glance, she ignored Zach, as always.
"So, Mother said she'd be here around 3:15 to pick us up- -"
"I can't go." Christine slammed the door of her locker closed as she broke the bad news. "I have to go straight home."
"What? Why?" Cries of outrage and disappointment greeted her announcement and continued as they made their way along the crowded hallway to their first class. Zach trailed behind; outside the door of their homeroom, he looked back over his shoulder.
Harland stood in the same spot, just outside the small janitor's office, making no attempt to hide the fact that he watched their progress. When he caught Zach's eye, he raised one finger to his forehead in a mocking salute.
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Thanks for reading!