Chapter 4

She concentrated on her breathing, taking slow, even breaths. She ignored everything except her breathing. She was trying once again to think rationally, to use everything she had ever been taught to figure out what was going on. She took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out again. She pushed the searing pain that ran through her whole body to the back of her mind and concentrated. If she couldn't see, she was going to have to rely on her other senses. She held her breath and listened. There was nothing. No normal sounds of the city like cars or construction. No sounds of being outdoors like the wind rustling through the trees. There were no sounds and it made her feel even more alone.

*****

Wednesday

6:58 AM

Brennan ran a brush through her semi-dry hair as she heard her cell-phone beep in the other room. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Sure, she had looked better, but she was running on a one hour nap and her barely there makeup and barely dry hair was going to have to do. Brennan threw the brush into one of the drawers below the sink and walked into the living room. She picked up her cell phone from the coffee table and looked at it. Of course it was Booth. She read his message.

'Be there in 5.'

Brennan was about to slide the phone into her pocket when it beeped again. She looked at the message.

'...my girl.'

She wasn't sure if she should laugh or get ready to give him a good talking to about the inappropriateness of his new pet term for her. She settled on finding her shoes, which she had kicked off somewhere near her bed if she remembered correctly. One hour of sleep was definitely not enough, but she was going to have to deal.

After putting on her boots and throwing on her coat, Bones walked out of her apartment and out to the front where she knew Booth would pick her up. As soon as the door slammed shut behind her, she saw his SUV come into view. He stopped right in front of the door and Brennan got in.

"You look like hell," she said as she buckled her seatbelt and Booth zoomed off.

"Thanks Bones."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I think I drifted off for maybe twenty minutes."

"That's not enough asleep."

"It's sweet how worried you are about me, Bones."

"I'm not worried about you. People who don't get enough sleep are prone to falling asleep while driving. I'm just looking out for my safety."

"Uh-huh."

"I didn't sleep because I was too busy reading Collin Brown's prison report."

"Prison report?"

"Yeah. Every prisoner has a file that contains all their medial records and reports of any incidents that might have occurred while they were in prison."

"What was in Creepy's folder?"

"Creepy?"

"You said he was creepy and you seem incapable of not saying his whole name so I'm giving him a nickname. Creepy."

"I'm not incapable of..."

"What was in his file?" Brennan repeated.

"Nothing. Well, nothing except the normal stuff. He spent his years in prison as a model citizen. No fights reported, no bad behavior of any kind. Most of the guards actually liked him, which is crazy to me. How can you actually like someone who's in prison?"

"My father's in prison," Bones stated.

Booth glanced over at her as she stared straight ahead at the windshield.

"Bones...I...what I meant was how can you like someone who's in prison who has tortured and killed five women," he said, trying to dig himself out of the hole that he had created.

"What exactly are you hoping to gain by going to talk to him?" Bones asked, ignoring his comment.

"I just want him to know that he's being watched."

"By whom?"

"By me, Bones."

"You're going to watch him?"

"If that's what it takes."

"So...you're going to stalk him."

"He's a murderer, Bones."

"It's still stalking."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too. You know, I think you're becoming just a little too obsessed with this case."

Booth slammed on his breaks. He didn't care that they were in a middle of a busy street and the car that was behind them nearly crashed into them. Instead, the car swerved around them and the driver began honking and yelling all sorts of obscenities at them.

"I'm not obsessed," Booth stated through gritted teeth.

"Clearly you are since you nearly killed us in the middle of..."

"You've never seen what this man can do!" He yelled.

"I saw the pictures. I know…"

"You don't know, Bones," Booth said, his voice quieter. "You don't know until you walk into a crime scene and you see a woman that's unrecognizable because she's been starved and beaten and burned and her hands are tied together above her head and she's hanging from that hook. You don't know."

"You're right. I don't. I'm sorry." Brennan paused, giving Booth a moment to accept her apology. She had been working with him long enough to know when she should talk and when he just needed time.

"I'm sorry," he finally said quietly. "This case is just…"

"Creepy really got to you back then, didn't he?" Brennan asked.

Booth smiled. "Are you really going to call him creepy?"

"Yes," she answered, smiling back.

Booth started driving again and they both sat in silence.

"You're right," he finally said. "The case did get to me. I was young and stupid. I should have found more to go on than a crappy eyewitness to put him away forever."

"You blame yourself for him getting out of prison," she said as a statement and not as a question.

"I thought you didn't believe in psychology."

"I don't, but it's obvious that you feel some kind of guilt for him getting out of prison and you're willing to do almost anything to make sure he goes back to prison. I understand that. It's rational."

"It is?"

"Well...sort of."

Booth pulled into the prison parking lot. He parked the car and they both got out and headed towards the building. Booth approached a guard standing outside a tall, chain link fence covered in barbed wire.

"Visiting hours aren't until two PM," the guard stated.

Booth took out his badge and showed him.

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI, this is my partner Doctor Brennan from the Jeffersonian. We need to talk to one of your prisoners."

The guard took a radio from his belt and spoke into it.

"Yeah, it's Rollins. I've got an Agent Booth from the FBI and a Ms. Brennan here..."

"Dr. Brennan," Brennan corrected.

"To see..." the guard continued, ignoring Brennan. "Who are you here to see?"

"Collin Brown," Booth answered.

"Collin Brown," the guard said into the radio.

"You should correct yourself and tell them I'm a doctor," Brennan stated. "And that I'm from the Jeffersonian. I'm not just some..."

Booth put his hand up, quieting her.

"Collin Brown is set for release today," the guard told them as he waited for a response from his radio.

"Why do you think we're here?" Booth asked.

"Send them in, Rollins," the voice on the radio said.

"Alright, go ahead Agent Booth, Ms. Brennan."

The guard stepped back into his guard booth and pressed a button. The gates in front of them began to slide open.

"Thanks," Booth said.

"It's not Ms," Brennan exclaimed as Booth put his hand on her shoulder and started leading her forward. "I am a doctor. An anthropologist, to be more precise. I'm the best in my field!"

"Do you have to do that?" Booth asked as they walked down the long road towards the prison.

"Do what?"

"Correct people all the time?"

"I wasn't correcting him. I was merely stating that he had my name wrong."

"He didn't have your name wrong. Just your title."

"How would you like it if someone called you Mr. Booth instead of Agent Booth?"
"Special Agent Booth," he added.

"Ah-ha!"

"What ah-ha?"

"You don't like when people mess up your title either. Just because I don't have some fancy badge doesn't mean I'm any less important."

"I never said you were less important, Bones."

"Maybe I should get a badge."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you have a badge."

"I do not."

"Yes you do. You've got your little Jeffersonian badge."

"Don't demean it by calling it little…and it's not a badge. It's a nametag for identification purposes and security clearance."

"Well, next time we go talk to a witness or question a suspect, you can wear your little nametag."

"It's not little! I don't see what is so wrong with me getting a badge. If I get a badge, you won't have to introduce me and people won't get my name wrong."

"Your title, Bones, not your name. And you're not getting a badge."

"But…"

They stopped arguing as they approached the door to the prison. A guard opened it for them from the inside.

"Why if it isn't Seeley Booth," the guard said.

Booth smiled and took the guard's hand, shaking it vigorously.

"Roger Higgins," Booth stated. "You working here now?"

"Yup. It'll be five years this winter. Look at you. Big FBI guy now, huh?"

"Yeah."

"You always did have the know-how for that line of work. And you've got yourself a woman now, I see."

"Oh, I'm not his woman," Brennan said, clearly taking a step away from Booth.

"This is my partner, Dr. Brennan."

"I've never been to a doctor that looks as good as her."

"I'm not that kind of doctor," Brennan explained. "And I'm right here in the room. You don't need to refer to me as if I can't hear you. Although that is common among males who..."

"Higgins and I knew each other back in basic training," Booth explained, successfully cutting Brennan off before she could even get started with what Booth was sure would be an anthropological argument.

"Never saw combat, though," Higgins continued. "Not like my buddy here, Booth."

"Why not?" Brennan asked.

"Bones," Booth hissed, signaling to her that she shouldn't continue.

"What? I'm merely wondering why he didn't see combat when he obviously trained with you to be in combat."

"Turns out I've got bad vision in one eye. Army said my peripherals weren't good enough to be in combat."

"Your peripherals were good enough for me," Booth stated. "I would have had you by my side in combat any day."

Booth slapped him on the back.

"The army is right, Booth. If someone loses vision and has difficult with peripherals, the odds greatly increase that he or she will not do as well in combat and will be a danger to him or herself as well as the others around him or her. It's a known fact that..."

"We're here to see Collin Brown," Booth interrupted.

"Hopefully with another warrant for his arrest," Higgins said.

"Why do you say that?" Brennan asked.

"A man like that doesn't belong in the outside world," Higgins replied.

"His file said he was a model prisoner. He got along with all the guards," Brennan went on.

"He was a good prisoner, there's no denying that. He never got into fights, always did what he was told, even talked another prisoner out of killing himself when none of the prison guards could, but that doesn't mean he's a good man. I've heard about what he's done to women. It's not right for a man like that to get out."

"According to our judicial system, there isn't enough evidence to hold up his conviction," Brennan said. Booth knew exactly what she was doing. Even though he knew she too believed that Collin Brown belonged in prison, she was testing Higgins. She was trying to gain as much information as she could about him. Booth couldn't help but be proud. She had learned that from him.

"I don't need any judicial system or evidence to tell me that Collin Brown is guilty."

"Why's that?" Brennan asked.

"Because Collin Brown is creepy," Higgins answered. Brennan glanced over at Booth. "Come on, I'll take you to him."

Author's Note: I just want to say thank you for the incredible reviews! I love reading each and every one of them. They really make my day so keep reviewing and stay tuned for more coming very soon!