One more, thanks for the quick reviews and fallows, favorites. I don't own Bones.

Let me know what you think is going to happen and let me know what you think so far! Thanks!

Both Brennan and Booth had taken their home alone time rather seriously that night, and when the alarm went off, Brennan was draped over Booth, nuzzled in his neck. Groaning from having to move, he shut off the alarm and watched Brennan for a few more minutes, before decided that she had woken up too, but was feigning sleep.

"Hey there, beauty. How'd you sleep last night?"

Opening her eyes, she kissed him and then rolled off. Stiffling a yawn, she looked at the time and then listened for the sound of Christine's music. Not hearing it, she chuckled.

"How late do you think she was out last night?"

Booth rolled his eyes.

"Who knows? Should we wake her up and see if she has a hang over?"

Brennan shook her head.

"Let her sleep. She's a responsible kid. Let's just…Lay here for a while,"

Booth had no objections, so he rolled over to his side and embraced Brennan, closing his eyes and waiting for the time when Brennan would tell him to get up and get something accomplished. She'd toned it down significantly over the years, the need to get up at the crack of dawn. Now a days, she seemed content in his arms for hours on end.

He loved it.

When finally an hour had passed, Brennan pushed on him and muttered, "Get up," before rolling out on her own accord. Booth took a little while longer, his back stiff, but when he finally did get up, he made his way across the bedroom.

"Want anything for breakfast?"

She looked at the clock. 10:30.

"Pancakes sound good," she stated, before changing.

"Should I make some for Christine?"

"Wake her up and see. If she's crabby, just leave her be," Brennan waved him off and Booth grinned, walking down the hallway into Christine's room and pounding on the door.

"Hey, sleeping beauty. Wake up. You want anything for breakfast?"

No answer. Raising a brow, he knocked again.

"Hey, no use ignoring me. If you're going to be like that, I won't make you any," he threatened, hoping to coax a reply. When he didn't hear one, he started to feel the anger in his veins rise up, as he knocked, harshly, one last time.

"Christine! Talk to me!" he snarled. When silence greeted Booth, he grabbed the door handle and thrust it open, expecting to find a drunk teenager on her bed, passed out. Instead he found…

No one…

No one at all.

The anger quickly disappeared as he tried to come up with, as Brennan would say, a rational explanation. He looked around to see if there was any evidence of changed cloths, a chance that she'd gone running this morning. Nothing. He checked on her dresser to make sure there was no note. On her mirror, two sticky notes displayed Michaels number and another post-it with colleges and when their applications were due.

Nothing.

He looked over at the bed again, expecting it to at least be disturbed, when he realized something.

Hospital corners. He'd just shown her how to do that before she'd gotten ready for Prom.

She couldn't make her own. They were sloppy. They'd been working on it for a while, a trick to impress people who came by her dorm. At least, that's what she said. He was unsure exactly why she really wanted to learn how to do it.

This was perfect. His style.

"Brennan!" he shouted, using her last name instead of the nickname. This seemed to get her attention. The sound of quick footsteps and her voice carrying out almost calmed him down a bit.

"What is it, Booth? If she's hung over, we shouldn't be surprised. I tried my first cigarette at her age," she strolled down and then poked in, expecting that she would need to take care of the girl for the rest of the day. When she saw that no one was in the room, her eyes widened.

"Where is she?"

Booth shook his head.

"How should I know?"

Feeling a moment of panic, Booth darted downstairs, planning to call Angela and Hodgins. Brennan put her hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Booth, are you sure it isn't a possibility that she and Michael may have…Rented a room?"

Booth looked over angrily and shook his head.

"No! It is NOT possible,"

"Booth, at her age-"

"She should be focused on getting into a good school! So no, that is not a possibility. Plus, she's smart. She'd be home by now," he stated.

"What if she got drunk and decided to stay at a friends house? Isn't that what we told her to do if she was ever in a situation like that?"

Booth snorted.

"No one actually takes that advice, Bones,"

Christine and Michael would, Brennan wanted to correct, but she kept her mouth shut.

In truth, she was as worried, if not more worried than Booth. But there were logical explanations. She wanted to look at the positive first. Not the negative.

As soon as he reached the phone, it started ringing, and he picked up.

"Booth," he stated, tapping his foot impatiently. The frantic voice on the other line made Booth's eyes go downcast.

"No, Michael isn't here, Ange…I was hoping she was at your house…"

Sighing in frustration, he tried to think of logical steps. When he couldn't come up with them, Brennan coaxed the phone out of his hand and put the receiver to her ear.

"Ange? Yes. I think it would be wise to stay at home for a while…I'm sure we'll get a call from them soon," she noted. After another few seconds, Brennan took the phone away from her ear and hit end, before bringing Booth to the living room to sit.

"What the hell are we supposed to do, Brennan?"

"Wait," she noted, closing her eyes. "We wait,"

It seemed as though every person in her life had made her say this. But now it was her daughter.

Wait.