It had been a week since the awful day that had contained Booth's death. In that time, Brennan hadn't left her apartment once. Hell, she could hardly get out of bed, let alone leave the apartment. She'd barely eaten in the past week, but the fact didn't seem to bother her. The empty numbness that had settled into her chest at the hospital had only grown worse with the coming days, for every morning she woke with a start with the realization that she would never be able to meet Booth at the diner for breakfast again.
Her answering machine had gathered a healthy collection of missed calls in that week. Frantic calls from a weeping Angela had begged Brennan to call her best friend and talk to her about what had happened. Concerned calls from Cam had come in to tell Brennan that the lab didn't expect her back any time soon, as they all knew how much Booth had meant to Brennan. Even a call from Sweets had come in, assuring the anthropologist that he would listen to whatever she had to say if she needed someone to talk to.
However, there was one message on the machine that she listened to over and over again every day. It was a message that Booth had left her nearly two weeks ago, asking if she'd wanted to meet him at the diner to discuss the case they'd just closed. She clung onto that message with all the strength she had, for it was the only way she could hear Booth's voice once again, even though it brought her great pain to listen to it.
But Brennan didn't answer a single one of these calls. She hadn't spoken a word since she had frantically spoken to her partner as he lay on the ground, blood seeping out of his gunshot wound. Speaking would feel like a heavy weight being pressed onto her chest, and she simply didn't have the strength for it now. She didn't know how long it would take before she'd ever be able to talk about it.
She'd wandered around her apartment without a purpose for the past few days. Sometimes, when she felt too weak to do anything else, she would lie in her bed for hours and stare at the ceiling as she allowed the flood of painful memories to once again consume her. But not once did she allow herself to cry at the thought of them. Crying would show she was grieving, which would only solidify the fact that Booth was dead. And that was something she wasn't ready to handle yet, though her logical side told her that it was the truth.
She knew it was ridiculous, but a part of her had felt that Booth would always be with her. Part of her believed that Booth couldn't die. After all, hadn't he survived torture? Hadn't he fought in a war? Hadn't he been shot before and survived the wound, as if laughing off the notion that a tiny piece of metal could take away his life?
Just as Brennan was reaching that inevitable point where her thoughts became too painful to think any longer, they were interrupted by yet another phone call. The phone only rang once before the machine had picked up, for Brennan had set it this way so she wouldn't have to listen to the annoying ring of the machine. She heard the beep of the machine that signified the start of the message, and soon the unexpected voice of Director Cullen spoke from it.
"Dr. Brennan? This is Director Cullen. We have urgent news about your partner Special Agent Seeley Booth. It is important for you to come down to the Bureau as quickly as possible to receive this information, so please come as soon as you possibly can. We'll be expecting you."
The machine clicked off with another beep and Brennan huffed at the message, annoyed. What on earth could possibly be so urgent for her to know? Her partner was dead. How could there be anything else that the Bureau needed to tell her? But even still, the tone of Director Cullen's voice had peaked her curiosity. He sounded serious, worried, and distressed, which she knew could mean many things, but it still made her wonder nonetheless. And, it was the first thing in days that had been able to even slightly distract her from the pain of Booth's death.
So, with these thoughts in mind, Brennan slowly sat up from her bed and headed back into her living room. The numb fog that surrounded her mind was still there, which was why she didn't bother to change into nicer clothes or brush her hair, but at least now she felt that she had the tiniest bit of strength to take the next step and leave her apartment. She slowly pulled on her jacket before shutting off the lights in her apartment and leaving it, heading back out into the world that had continued living on as she was lost in her own personal hell.