Chapter Eight: Three Doors

Staring off into the darkness, Booth had been unable to sleep. Hodgins' words echoed in his head, almost as if good ol' Fate was taunting him once again. "So why don't you follow her?" Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, willing a solution to magically appear and solve his problems instantly. Instead, images of Brennan flitted across his mind. He imagined her under the hot sun, the sandy desert background of Iraq surrounding her. His own memories of his days as a Ranger and sniper mingled in, and the scenery turned into bloodshed. Quickly turning nightmarish, he saw Brennan and Zach lying in a grave somewhere, never to be found. Her beautiful skin was now sickly yellow and bloody, her eyes lifeless and staring vacantly…becoming one of the many dead who were nameless, and ultimately forgotten.

"Christ…" he stood, running a hand over his head in frustration. The grim reality was that his Bones was stepping into something she knew nothing about it. Sure, she had gotten herself into horrible situations before and survived on her own. She had trekked through Tibet avoiding the Chineese Army, been to countless other unstable countries to identify victims, including Iraq, and always managed to come out of it. And though she'd never voice it to anyone, he knew a lot more happened to Brennan when she was in El Salvador than she let on. She had told Angela that her captive made her believe she was going to die, implied through daily threats. True as that may have been, Booth knew captors didn't just threaten and terrify their hostages. They were tortured. They were starved. And if they were women, they were almost always raped. Booth was sure he'd never find out what really happened to Brennan when she was captured, but the masked pain she held in her eyes when she briskly recounted her harrowing time in El Salvador was enough to get Booth suspicious. And that would forever make his blood boil.

His eyes fell on an old and tattered notebook, stuffed between a photo album and his high school yearbook. It was on the bottom shelf of a cabinet in his living room, collecting dust and primarily out of sight from any visitors. Once Parker had gotten a hold of it, and it had taken everything Booth had to not freak out on his son. The notebook was an ugly reminder of his past, and the thought of his son even touching it scared him. Yet he kept it, praying he'd never have to open it again.

And it looked like that wish wasn't going to come true.

"Alright, Booth, you got some choices to make," he muttered aloud. "Door number one, you let things run its course and pray really hard until Bones comes back." His voice was thick with sarcasm, already knowing this option was unlikely to happen. He couldn't just sit in his apartment sulking and worrying his brains out until she returned, with the Boy Genius or not.

"Door number two, I open that book and pull some strings…" he said quietly. He walked over to the bookcase, tentatively reaching out for the notebook. He paused, contemplating. Are the numbers and locations and codes still viable after all these years? Would these people even be alive still? And if they are, I know they wouldn't listen to a guy who's more than three thousand miles away. All I'd accomplish would be keeping tabs on Bones. And that's a big maybe.

"Door number three, I go with Bones," he finished. And that made his heart pound. Hodgins words came back to bite him. Was he scared? No…he was terrified. But not for the reasons he thinks…Booth wasn't afraid to die. He had stared into Death's ugly face multiple times, had doled Death out, and worked with Death everyday. This was not a new concept to him. He was, however, scared that he would die and Parker would then become fatherless. Though this fear was present every time he went out into the field, it was a greater likelihood of coming true going to Iraq. There were things from his past that had remained unfinished, people who wanted him dead and would take every chance they had to exact their revenge. Parker and the nightmares weren't the only things that kept him rooted in front of the shelf.

Ironically, it was Bones herself that frightened him. He hadn't always been able to protect her. The Grave Digger got her, Kenton took her right from everyone else's nose--who was to say he couldn't keep her safe in a military zone? The thought of something bad happening her--and him having to witness it would be unbearable. What if he had to see her die? What if she caught a stray bullet, or got caught in a suicide bomber's wrath? Bones going to Iraq was hard enough for Booth to swallow, but having to watch her die would kill him.

You're being an idiot, Booth. Capital 'I' Idiot. If you went with her, she'd have a better chance of staying safe. It's not like she doesn't face this same kind of danger when she's with you in the field. You're not going with her because of your own selfish and biased reasons. She's your partner, you're friend. Get over yourself, and go with her…

Exhaling, Booth gingerly took out the notebook. It was stiff with age, and the front cover was worn. He opened the book, and his eyes fell on numerous names and numbers. Contacts. People from his past as a Ranger. He sat down on his couch, mentally preparing himself for the hours of headaches and gut-wrenching memories that awaited. He picked up the phone and started dialing the first of countless digits.

He chose door number three.


AN: Sorry about how boring that chapter was compared to others. But it t'was much needed for development. And please, push that review button.