He puts the phone down on the desk, staring at it for several minutes, his brain whirling too fast for him to do anything else, think about anything else. He just sits there, staring, his eyes misting over and his heart breaking in his chest. For some reason, he remembers a conversation he had with Brennan a long time ago – before they were a couple – when she told him that the heart is in fact a muscle and it cannot break, but it can be crushed. He thinks that's what he's feeling – his heart being crushed into dust; everything he knows, everything he loves crumbling away from him.
He replays the words over and over in his mind. Agent Booth, your daughter has gone missing. Agent Booth, your daughter has gone missing. Your daughter. Missing. Your daughter has gone missing. He rakes his hands through his hair, leaning against his desk, hiding his face from Cam. He feels physically sick. Agent Booth, your daughter has gone missing.
"Seeley? Seeley, is everything OK? What's going on? Seeley?" Cam's voice is concerned, but he can't focus on her words as his images of his daughter, his precious Christine, brutally attacked and murdered like the other victims run through his brain.
Agent Booth, your daughter has gone missing.
He feels a hand on his shoulder and he jumps in shock, then relaxes slightly when he realises the hand belongs to his old friend. Her eyes are wide, terrified, as she once again asks him what's wrong.
"Chri-." His throat feels dry, too dry to be able to talk and he takes a swig of water that lies on his desk, though he wishes it were Scotch. "Christine." He can't say it. Verbalising it would make it real.
Agent Booth, your daughter has gone missing.
He swallows, moisture building behind his eyes. "Christine, she's, um, she's – gone."
Her sharp intake of breath kind of makes him want to die. She doesn't cry easily; she's strong, always has been, but he hears her crying, her breathing short and erratic as tears flow without restraint down her cheeks. He scrunches his eyes tightly shut and attempts to block out the sound, but it overwhelms him.
"Dr. Brennan," Cam gasps through her tears. "Dr. Brennan – does she know?"
Bones.
His thoughts suddenly switch to his wife and, if possible, everything hurts more.
He imagines his wife's face when he tells her that their daughter has gone missing. There's a serial killer on the loose, targeting girls just like Christine and she's gone missing. He knows his wife will be distraught, unable to cope with her emotions. She's already lost so much – her mother, her family, Vincent, Sweets… Nearly him. He doesn't want to tell her they might have lost their daughter too. He doesn't.
Agent Booth, your daughter has gone missing.
"Camille – can you do it? Can you tell her for me? Please?"
Her eyes are uncertain. "Seeley, you're her husband. This should come from you."
"I can't. I can't tell her, I can't do that to her. Please." His voice is agonising, desperate and in all her years of knowing him, she doesn't think she's ever heard him sound like this, so afraid. Agent Booth your daughter has gone missing. Agent Booth, your daughter has gone missing. Agent Booth, your daughter has gone m-.
"Fine, I'll tell her, but you're coming with me." She shushes him when he goes to protest, giving him a firm, authoritative look. "You and Dr. Brennan need to be together for this. It won't be easy and you have to be there for each other, or you won't make it. You won't bring Christine home. Do you understand me?"
Agent Booth, your daughter has gone missing.
He nods frantically.
When they arrive at the Jeffersonian Institute Booth hangs back, letting Cam take the lead. He stares at the gardens – the place that means so much to him, the place where he married Brennan, the best moment of his life, when he watched his little girl toddle down the aisle. He aches at the memory, wanting so desperately to lift her into his arms, like he did that day, scattering kisses all over her face. He swallows, looks up to find Cam is already at the door and hurries to catch up.
They walk through the lab and scientists smile at them, wishing them well. He doesn't respond, incapable of feeling anything besides pure, devastating sadness. He spies his wife as they near the bone room and his feet suddenly feel heavy like lead. He's terrified, honestly. He doesn't want to break this to her. He can't.
She looks so pretty, he thinks. He's been loving what she's been doing with her hair lately, the shoulder-length curls complimenting her perfectly. She looks at peace, too, serene as she always does when she's examining remains, completely in her element. He hates that he's going to have to take that serenity away from her; he absolutely hates it.
"Hey, Booth," she grins, glancing up and finding her husband stood in front of her, along with Cam. "What are you doing here? You don't like the lab and I don't yet have any new developments on the Lily Edwards case."
"Hi, Bones," he croaks. His wife's face falters and he knows that she's sensed his unease.
"What's wrong?" She asks, placing the ulna back in its anatomical position, removing her gloves and walking towards him. "What's happened, Booth?"
"Bones… I-." He looks to Cam, his eyes pleading with her.
"Booth?" Every second that passes increases Brennan's worry. "Tell me what's wrong."
"Dr. Brennan, I- I really hate to do this, but, um, well… Christine… Booth received a phone call when we were in his office… and, um, they said that… Christine has gone missing."
"Sorry?"
"Christine has gone missing, Dr. Brennan," she repeats. "Do you need a seat? Water? Anything?"
Brennan doesn't reply, her eyes flicking to her husband. Realisation now dawns on why he's acting so weird and unlike himself and why he can't talk to her. His head is bent towards the floor, his eyes closed, a pained expression stretched across his face. She even detects a single tear rolling down his cheek. She doesn't say anything, just feels a cool glass being pressed against her skin and accepts it with a nod, her gaze immediately switching back to Booth.
"How long?"
His head lifts. He grimaces; he knows the statistic off by heart. "Two hours."
"Ninety-nine percent of abducted children are killed within the first twenty four hours," Brennan recites. "Statistically, she has twenty two more hours to live, unless she's been murdered already."
"Bones!" He snaps, horrified. "This is our daughter you're talking about. Christine! Don't say stuff like that."
"What, Booth? It's a fact. I'm just stating the truth that she is unlikely to survive." Her face crumples as she talks, her walls tumbling down. He sighs deeply, taking her into his arms.
Cam leaves the room, deciding to give the couple privacy and needing to cry herself. She glances back before she leaves the room, seeing her friends gripping onto each other for dear life.
"We need to collect Hank from daycare," Brennan says, her rationality returning after ten minutes with her husband, him stroking her back and whispering comforting words into her ear.
"Let's go," he agrees. "You got your things?"
"They're in my office, Booth." He takes her hand, entwining their fingers together as they head in the direction of her office, separating only for Brennan to pick up her bag and coat and then they practically sprint towards to the car.
The daycare nurse is evidently shocked when she sees the two dishevelled parents rush through the doors.
"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, I didn't think you'd be here until this evening…" She takes in their appearances, their red faces and their inability to let go of their tight old on the other. "Is everything OK?"
"Christine has been abducted and we need Hank with us. Is that acceptable for you?" Brennan says bluntly, while Booth spots their oblivious son, picking him up from his position on the floor, where he was playing with another kid. His heart rate returns to a normal pace as he feels his son in his arms, holding him close to his chest and pressing a kiss to his light, fluffy hair.
"I-. I'm so-."
"Sorry?" Brennan raises an eyebrow. "Yes, I imagine you are. Most people tend to be apologetic towards those in situations like ourselves. We need to be going now," she says and they leave the daycare as quickly as they arrived.
"He's safe, Bones," he reminds her as she buckles Hank into the baby seat in the back of the car, pausing to just watch him as he happily giggles away, blissfully ignorant to the trauma their family is going through and is about to go through.
"I know that, Booth. Christine isn't, though, is she?"
"No," he murmurs sadly. "No, she isn't. Which is why we need to hurry up and interview the teachers. God knows how it took them two hours to notice our child had disappeared."
Aubrey is already outside the classroom when they arrive, Hank settled on Brennan's hip. Booth gives him a curious look and asks, "what the hell are you doing here?"
He holds up his hands at the older agent's brusque tone. He knows it's not intentionally malicious, though. They're just going through an unimaginable situation. "I'm an FBI agent on this case, Booth. And… the bureau believes Christine's disappearance may be linked to the… recent killings. Thought we needed a more objective person to talk to the teacher."
"You think I can't be objective? I'm the most objective person I know," Brennan protests. "I am perfectly able to compartmentalise my life. I accept this is for work and can quite easily remove my personal feelings from the interview."
"With respect Dr. Brennan, this is your daughter we're talking about. I know you're extremely good at being objective usually, but this is not a typical position you are faced with. You don't know how you will act."
She goes to argue again, prevented by the teacher opening up the door and allowing them into the room. Booth and Brennan share a look before they enter and Brennan's hold on their son tightens a little. They're both thinking the same thing: this is where Christine was taken from.
Thank you for all of your reviews to the first chapter, I hope you've enjoyed this one just as much. :)
