Hey, everyone. Your response to the last chapter was awesome, and I'm so glad to know you're all enjoying this. This chapters a pretty important one, and there's a small time jump partway through, which I think you will appreciate. Let me know what you think!

Chapter Eight

Home

Wish I were with you
I couldn't stay
Every direction
Leads me away
Pray for tomorrow
But for today All I want is to be home

Echoes and silence
Patience and grace
All of these moments
I'll never replace
No fear of my heart
Absence of faith And all I want is to be home

Foo Fighters

It had been harder than she'd thought to leave Booth's apartment, not knowing exactly when she'd be back. She wanted to cram every bit of evidence of Booth she could into her suitcase, but of course, that wasn't logical.

She fought tears as she shut the door behind her and hurried to her car; she was done crying. That was at least one weakness she was determined to fight.

Brennan drove to the Hoover, where she was to meet Perotta in the morning, and left her car, with her suitcase inside, in the parking lot.

And she began to walk.

It was early, and the sun was just setting over the city, the sky painted with streaks of orange and pink. Brennan walked the short distance to the diner. She didn't go in, just stood outside, letting memories wash over her.

Bones, hey…there's more than one kind of family.

It's a good old song, right? Right.

I'm not a bad daughter…a bad person? You're not a bad anything.

Every once in awhile two people meet, and there's that spark….making love? Making love…that's when two people become one.

You're better than Smurfette. You've got your looks and a whole lot more.

Chest tightening, Brennan kept walking, several blocks away until she came to what used to be Wong Fu's. it had closed, sometime in their second year of partnership, and Booth had been heartbroken. It was still empty.

You saved so many people, Booth. Don't forget that.

Who's the secret Santa now?

I'm proud you asked, Temperance…your people are my people. I have people? Hey…I have people.

She walked the length of the National Mall when the sky grew darker.

You and me…we're the center. And the center must hold. So…are we gonna hold? Yeah. We'll hold. We're the center.

I thought you were gonna kiss my hand again.

She settled on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial for a good half hour, trying to ignore the way this all felt like some sort of goodbye.

I'm sorry, is that rude? Not from someone who's been drinking.

We played cards. Cool. I killed him. Good for you.

When it was late enough for the lab to be empty, Brennan walked back to the Jeffersonian and let herself in. Before going on the platform, however, Brennan opened the doors and walked out, into the garden.

What are you trying to do? Blackmail you. Blackmail a federal agent? Yes. I don't like it. I'm fairly certain you're not supposed to. Fine, you're in.

It felt like forever ago. Back inside, she walked through the lab and her office, the memories assaulting her, too many to process.

Where did you get that? What does it matter…it's just a thing, right?

I miss that…someone caring where I am all the time. Bones! Where are ya?

Meet…Jasper.

You're gonna be okay. Yeah? Definitely.

Are you going to betray me? No.

I don't understand, what way do I look? Well, you know…you're structured…very well. As are you.

Was that enough steamboats?

You're my partner. It's a guy hug. Take it.

Her eye's literally aching from the effort of keeping her tears in check, Brennan left, walking back to her car at the Hoover, and promptly driving to the last place on her mini-tour.

The cemetery, where she'd started her morning.

This time, there was no talking. She didn't bother; she still didn't believe in it. She wasn't there because she thought it brought her closer to Booth; in fact, the idea of his body, empty and lifeless, made her feel further away.

She went because she thought Booth would be glad.

So she sat, quietly, never crying, for the rest of the night, turning over the other memories.

I know who you are. Hey, I know.

Full participation in the case. Fine. Not just lab work, everything.

I knew you wouldn't give up.

Brain and heart, Bones. Brain and heart.

Everything happens eventually. All that stuff, you think never happens? It happens. You just have to be ready for it.

I love my gift, Booth. Merry Christmas, Bones.

Temperance Brennan…I've worked with this woman. I've stood over death with her, I've faced down death with her. Sweets, he's brilliant, he is, but he's wrong. She could not have done this.

And when morning came, she left the cemetery and drove back to the Hoover. Ready to go.

~(B*B)~

At 3:30 a.m, Angela gave up.

She was slumped against Booth's apartment door, Jack across the hall from her, nodding off every few minutes.

"Jack?" She nudged his foot with hers, and his blue eyes snapped open. "She isn't coming back."

He glanced down at his watch, then leveled his fiancée with a sympathetic look. "You sure?"

Biting her lip and nodding, Angela whispered, "Yeah." She'd been there for hours, while Hodgins drove to the check Brennan's own apartment and the lab. Tired, she rubbed her eyes. "What if something happens to her, Jack?"

Hodgins took her hand and pulled her to a standing position, but instead of letting go, her laced their fingers together and squeezed gently. "You don't even know what she's doing."

"I know why." Angela said shakily. "I just want to tell her I love her and I'm sorry and I can't even imagine how hard this must be…"

Placing a kiss against the back of her knuckles, Jack assured her quietly, "You will. When she gets back."

~(B*B)~

Special Agent Payton Perotta had realized after about one minute that was not in a better place than she'd been during their first meeting. When she had to speak at all, she was curt and distant. It had made for an awkward trip to the airport, and Perotta had been massively relieved when immediately fell asleep on the plane.

That is, until an hour into the flight, when Brennan began softly whimpering in her sleep, drawing alarmed glances from all the surrounding aisles.

Shit.

"Dr. Brennan?" Perotta hissed, praying the anthropologist was a light sleeper. "Dr. Brennan?"

Her eyelids were fluttering but not opening; just enough, Perotta noticed, for tears to squeeze their way out and streak down her cheeks. Brennan flinched a little, her hand tightening into a fist like she was holding onto something.

"Dr. Brennan!" A little louder this time, for the doctor's own sake; people were staring.

She whimpered again, than managed one word, his name. "Booth…"

God, it was sad. Perotta didn't even know the woman, and she'd barely known Booth. But everyone knew about the two of them together, for both their success and the legendary bond the partners had, all the times they'd saved each other, their fierce loyalty, and of course those pesky rumors about sex and love that never really went away.

Perotta put a firm hand on the other woman's shoulder and shook. "Dr. Brennan!"

And finally her eyes, that brilliant, depthless blue, snapped open, panicked and wet. Gulping air, Brennan slowly seemed to realize her surroundings.

She sat up quickly, swiping her arm across her face in a quick motion, as the other passengers around them tried to pretend like they weren't looking.

"Sorry," Brennan muttered, her cheeks red, not even sparing Perotta a look.

"No problem…" Perotta watched her fumbled with her bottle of water, hands shaking violently, and tactfully decided to not mention Booth at all if possible.

After a few minutes, Perotta chanced a sidelong glance at her temporary partner, who was now staring straight ahead, hands clasped in front of her, a muscle jumping in her tightly clenched jaw, gaze steely.

Perotta sighed inwardly. It was going to be a long case.

Five Days Later

Booth's heart was pounding in his chest, his entire body buzzing with adrenaline. He eased down lower in the car, pulling the black baseball cap lower over his eyes.

Agent Andrew Latham sat in the backseat of the car, just behind the driver's seat, where Booth sat. It was the first time he'd been anywhere outside the yard of the safehouse in over a month.

The other agents spent the past week making use of their surveillance skills, tailing members of his criminal affiliates to try to catch glimpses of Reynolds himself. He was still covert, being careful, but after a few nights, they began to pick up patterns.

Like, for example, the fact that guy was as much of an addict as he had been six years ago, and that he met a dealer in the alley across the street from where Booth was currently parked every two nights, suggesting he was supplying not only himself but some of his buddies as well.

Patrick Reddick was the closest to them, sitting on the curb outside the alley, several yards down; his curly black hair now unkempt enough so that, when coupled with the long, tattered black coat and the proper posture, he looked for all the world like a homeless person, something this particular street was littered with.

There were other agents, at further distances , watching closely, their weapons ready.

Booth couldn't believe it might actually go down like this. Simple stakeout in a back alley, waiting for a drug bust…it seemed so common for Reynolds' level. Apparently, the ruse really had worked. The guy thought no one was watching.

"'S that him?" Andrew asked under his breath, and Booth focused on the dark figure moving swiftly toward the alley.

"Can't tell…matches his build, and his gate." Booth smiled a little at his own answer; it reminded him of something Bones might point out.

The walkie talkie in Booth's left hand crackled, from the agents with the surveillance equipment. "That's him."

Booth glanced at Andrew, who nodded. They waited, as Reynolds approached the dealer, who was slumped against one of the buildings.

"Now."

Drawing his gun, Booth opened his car door and sprinted across the street, Andrew keeping stride. "FBI, hands in the air!"

The dealer instantly turned tail and ran, but Reynolds was fast, drawing his own weapon and aiming at Booth.

Booth couldn't help but enjoy the way Reynolds' look of recognition was instantly replaced with complete shock.

"Drop the weapon."

His eyes darted back and forth between the two agents, calculating. Then, Booth noticed his thumb move, subtly trying to undo the safety.

Booth shot, aiming at his right leg, and sent him sprawling.

"Calvin Reynolds, you are under arrest-"

He sat up abruptly, firing off a round that caused Andrew and Booth to leap two different directions, away from his direct line.

A final shot cracked through the air, and then everything was silent. Picking himself up off the pavement, Booth took in the scene: Reynolds was unmoving on the ground, and Patrick was now standing, his face set, gun drawn.

"He's dead," Patrick said flatly, then he met Booth's eyes. "It's over."

It was over. After the long, agonizing buildup, it seemed almost anticlimactic. The whole thing had taken less than two minutes.

Booth felt a grin spreading over his face, as inappropriate as it seemed in the situation.

Holy shit, it's actually over.

I can go home.

~(B*B)~

"Anything new, Dr. Brennan?" Agent Lucas Wellman asked, approaching her in the shoddy little FBI lab, Agent Perotta, as usual not far behind him.

"Not on the bones, no. But I did notice something interesting in your FBI tech's analysis of the particulets."

It had been a long week. Brennan had made positive identifications on all eleven of the victims, as well as time of death, which revealed that five of the murders took place within the last two months, the latest only two weeks ago. All of those victims also disappeared at night, all on Friday. Brennan had also determined that all of them had been knocked out with chloroform, taken to a killing site, had their ankles bound, and were killed within six hours of their capture, following multiple grazes with a knife and one, fatal stab.

"They noted that all the victims certain particulates in common, all of which pointed to the still unidentified holding spot."

"Which gave us nothing specific to identify, other than the fact that it's somewhere in the mountains near where we found the bodies buried," Wellman recapped.

"And is the assumed murder location," Perotta added.

"Yes. But the last five victims, the most recent…they have even more particulates in common."

"So what's that mean?" Wellman questioned. "They have more stuff from the holding site, maybe? Or the burial ground?"

"No, this suggests an entirely different location in common."

Perotta frowned. "So…they were held in one place…killed in another…and buried in another entirely?"

"Actually, I think it's more likely they were held and killed in one place, buried in another…and taken from another."

The agents, who had gotten quite 'friendly' over the past week, exchanged a glance. "So…you're saying the last five victims were kidnapped from the same location?"

"What location?"

"The particulates they share are all quite common, and what they most likely add up to is…a public park."

"A public park…" Wellman repeated thoughtfully; then, his eyes lit up. "Tryon Park!"

For a moment, Perotta looked blank, then she, too, looked excited, "The place Jennifer Durst's sister said she used to go to jog!"

"And the place that's right by Katherine Davis' office."

"That's geographically plausible based on our burial ground and assumed position for killing site."

"So our killer waits, on Friday nights, watching for women walking alone through the park…"

"Sneaks up on them, knocks them out with the chloroform…"

"…drags them to the killing site!"

Brennan opened her mouth to point out that this was pure conjecture, particularly the selection of the park, but decided not to bother. Instead, she just commented, "We should go the park and check for the matching particulates."

Wellman and Perotta were still grinning inanely at each other, but Wellman managed to break the spell and nod. "Yeah, let's do that. We'll go now."

Perotta raised an eyebrow. "It's dark out."

Wellman grinned. "I'll protect you," he teased, prompting an eye roll. "No, but it's better this way. No families around, fewer people."

He signaled at a couple other FBI lab workers, then headed out with Perotta, who threw a look over her shoulder. "Coming, Dr. Brennan?"

Sighing, Brennan trailed silently behind. She'd been mostly confined to the lab for a week, nothing dangerous at all, and while the consuming nature of the case should have been a decent distraction, it wasn't. The nightmares hadn't gone away (thank God she'd paid for her own room rather than stay in the one the FBI had booked for her and Perotta), and she was still biting back tears at the slightest provocation.

Besides that, working with FBI again drew the inevitable comparisons to Booth.

Ahead of her, Perotta was asking, "So if we confirm the location, what do we do with it?"

"Are you forgetting Ellie Porter was only killed two weeks ago. He's active, and he's even given us a day of the week. If we know his location, we can set a trap, put someone undercover as bait."

At this, Brennan shook her own thoughts away, raising her head to listen.

~(B*B)~

The morning after his mission effectively ended with Reynolds' death, Booth stepped out of Rebecca's house after three solid hours of Parker time, feeling almost dizzy with happiness. He had never been so glad to see his son. Hell, he'd never been so glad to see Rebecca, or even Captain Fantastic himself. Anyone who wasn't one of the seven agents he'd seen over the past month was a welcome sight.

But he had an even more welcome sight, waiting on him. His first objective had been Parker, and his second was Bones.

Driving to the Jeffersonian, the same giddiness that had been filling him all morning was still there, but there was also a generous amount of nerves.

This would be his first confrontation with people who thought he was dead, and it would probably be one of the worst. And even Bones herself was going to be much more complicated than Parker, who had needed no explanation before throwing himself into his father's embrace.

Still, it didn't matter. Just to see her… she could yell the walls down and he'd stand happily and take it, probably grinning like a maniac the whole time.

And the calling issue, they could deal with later.

It was going to be awkward, just waltzing into the lab like he'd risen from the dead. But any other scenario, like calling them for example, seemed equally inappropriate.

Soon he was in the Jeffersonian, actually shaking a little, he was so damn excited and nervous.

The forensic platform came into view and he couldn't help but grin. Bones wasn't there, which was probably better. He was going to owe the other squints an explanation, and he was pretty sure once he had her in his vision Booth wouldn't be able to focus on much else.

Cam, Hodgins, Zack, and Angela were all there, all working intently enough so they didn't notice him until he scanned his card and hopped up the steps to the platform.

Cam turned first, and there was a clatter as a beaker slipped from her hand, shattering. Hodgins let out an audible gasp, Zack's eyes nearly popped from his head, and Angela actually let out a strangled yell.

They all stared at him, literally, as if they were looking at a ghost. Booth, suddenly wishing he'd prepared a little better, grinned, sheepishly, "Hey."

Silence. Then, Hodgins croaked out hoarsely, "Did someone accidentally release some kind of toxin? One that causes hallucinations maybe?"

Zack was quick to say, "It's extremely unlikely that any toxin would provoke the same hallucination in all of us."

Hodgins swallowed, his throat dry. "So, then…what? A ghost?"

Booth grinned a little; he'd even missed Hodgins' weird beliefs. "Not a ghost, Hodgins," Booth said. "Just-"

"You're dead," Cam told him unsteadily. "You died, we went to your funeral…"

He sighed. "I know. Listen, it was…it was all the Bureau. There was a guy, I drove him underground six years ago, and Cullen decided to fake my death and hope it provoked him out of hiding so we could catch him. It took longer than we thought, believe me…I never thought it would be this long."

"It was fake?" Angela spoke for the first time, her voice strangled. "It was all fake?"

"I'm sorry. I really am, but it was a national security issue and hardly anyone was able to know." He was tired, suddenly, of pretending Bones' absence wasn't driving him crazy. "Where's Bones?"

Angela's entire demeanor changed. She stiffened, and her features melded into one of pure fury.

Then, ignoring Hodgins' quiet murmuring of her name, she rushed toward Booth and slapped him as hard as she possibly could; Booth took a step back, eyes widening, and Angela landed another blow to his stomach. "You unbelievably." A punch on the arm. "Cruel." Nails, digging into his forearm and jerking him forward. "Heartless." A punch against his ribs. "Bastard."

Booth finally managed to recover from the shock and seized Angela's flailing wrists, dimly noting that no one was leaping to his defense. "Jesus, Ange, I'm sorry. I didn't have much of a choice. Just tell me where Bones is."

Angela's eyes flashed, so completely livid that hot tears of anger surged forward. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare say her name, Booth! Did you ever once think about what it might do to her?! Did you ever stop to wonder how she was taking your death, you fucking asshole?!"

"Wh-what?" An uneasy knot of fear tightening in his stomach, Booth stammered, "But, but Bones knew. She was on my list. My parents, my brother, Rebecca and Parker, and her, that was all. Cullen told me she knew, she had to."

Voice dangerously quiet, Angela hissed, "I can assure you she had absolutely no idea the fact that you died for her was anything but completely, horrifically real."

Panic choking him, Booth let his eyes drift over all the others. No one contradicted Angela, who continued, "Unless you think she's a good enough actress to force herself to cry her heart out just about every day. Or collapse into a ball at your funeral when your coffin went underground." Angela pressed her lips together, not going further, not wanting to make the mistake again of spilling Brennan's secrets.

Booth's face was ashen; he actually swayed a little, as though he might collapse, but after a moment he spun on his heel and sprinted to the other side of the platform, where he grabbed a wastebasket near Zack's station and fell to his knees, heaving violently.

Angela walked shakily to the platform stairs and sat down, her face in her hands, murmuring, "Oh, my God. Oh my God."

Booth straightened, his eyes wild. "Where is she? I have to see her, I have to, to tell…" His voice faded. Angela was glaring at him, while Zack blatantly looked away, and Hodgins just folded his arms, his face impassive. "Camille. Where is Bones?"

Cam sighed, inwardly cursing herself for failing to provide a negative enough expression. This entire thing was surreal. "She's out of town, Seeley."

Booth straightened, the panic in his eyes giving way to something more like determination. "Out of town where?" he asked briskly, in a voice that suggested he was ready to be on the next plane.

"We don't know."

Determination gone, panic returned. "What do you mean you don't know? Where the hell is Bones?"

Growing increasingly more irritated, Cam retorted, "Seeley, you need to get a grip. This is most definitely not our fault." She raised her eyebrows, her expression making it clear just whose fault it was. "She's on a confidential assignment with the FBI." Booth's face went white. "She left last week."

Hodgins interrupted, speaking flatly, "But you should probably know this is the first time she's done any sort of field work in a month."

"I…I…" Booth screwed his eyes shut, breathing hard. He couldn't wrap his mind around this. She was supposed to be here, waiting on him, and she was supposed to be okay. She was supposed to have known.

He had never even questioned it. Even the fact that she hadn't called…of all the possibilities, from the likely (she was angry at him, she didn't think it was necessary) to the unlikely (the agent hadn't given her the number, she had been hurt and no one had told him), the idea that she may not have been told at all had never even crossed his mind.

Angela's words were turning over and over in his mind, phrases that made nearly brought him to his knees.

Cry her heart out every day.

Collapse into a ball at your funeral.

Damn it.

And then there was another point; she was off on some confidential FBI business (the irony of which did not escape him) without him.

Fear breathed in his ear like a monster in his ear, and his whole body tensed. "What kind of assignment? Who went with her? Who decided this?" he demanded.

Zack spoke up, answering the onslaught of questions in a rush. "Due to the nature of the term confidential, we aren't aware of any details on the assignment. It is our understanding she was accompanied by Special Agent Payton Perotta. And while it was of course 's own decision to accept the assignment, Deputy Director Cullen made the request."

"Cullen," Booth nearly growled the name. Rage wrapped tight around his stomach, and his hands clenched into fists at his side.

Cullen, who in the hospital had assured him that, as long as he chose carefully, those he felt needed to know would be informed.

Cullen, who had never mentioned, in all the times Booth had spoken to him, even the times he'd mentioned Brennan, that he'd chosen to take her off the list.

Cullen, who had now sent her out of town on some covert, most likely dangerous, assignment, knowing that Booth would be back soon.

"I have to go. I have to see Cullen," he muttered, turning abruptly and walking off the platform.

He was down the stairs when Angela's voice, forceful and angry, stopped him, "Hey." Booth turned. Angela was on her feet again, her hands balled into fists. "There is no possible way you can comprehend what the past month has been like for her. We can't comprehend it, and we were here, watching. And a lot of that…is on you," her voice cracked, her gaze still steely. "If you can't make this right…if she isn't…" she swallowed, then said, "Make this right, or I will kill you myself."

He looked into the artist's heated, furious eyes, and he had a feeling she wasn't using 'I'll kill you' as a mere expression.

He didn't blame her.

~(B*B)~

Agent Perotta exited her hotel room, tired and wanting a cup of coffee, for the day and was floored to find Dr. Brennan waiting on her in the hallway.

"They're completely wrong about the park," Brennan stated flatly, not bothering with a greeting.

Perotta blinked at her for a moment, fairly certain it was the first time on the trip that the anthropologist had voluntarily engaged her. Recovering, she replied, "Yeah, you made yourself pretty clear last night."

Brennan gritted her teeth, frustrated. She had known after about a half hour of exploring Tryon Park the night before that they had the wrong place…and she wasn't even the particulates expert. But the report that had led them there had mentioned evidence of a certain type of soil that was not present in Tryon Park.

Agent Wellman, though, was completely focused on all the investigative reasons, like location and connection to victims, that the park made sense as the kidnapping location. He had stubbornly brushed her off even as she'd tried to point out the fact that there was literally proof that the victims hadn't been there.

She hated to admit it, but his fervent insistence that her science could only lead them so far reminded her of Booth, the first case they'd worked together, when he hadn't believed her examination of an X-ray could reveal cause of death.

Now, she leveled her hard gaze on Perotta. "There is forensic proof that it isn't the park the victims were taken from. Agent Wellman might not be used to working with forensics so closely, but you said yourself Booth and I had to be doing something right if our solve rate was so high." She drew a breath, pushing past the knot in her throat that always came when she so much as said his name. "I am right. I checked with their supposed particulates expert and there's another park that does match the particulates nearby…Agape Public Park."

Perotta nodded a little. "Lucas mentioned that, once. But it's much further from the killing sight, and we don't know of any connection to the victims…"

"The fact that it's more…inconvenient doesn't exclude it as a possibility. However, the fact that particulate evidence does not match Tryon Park does exclude it. Logically, we should set the trap at Agape."

Sighing, Perotta began to head toward the elevators, Brennan keeping in step with her. "I believe you, . Really. But it's Agent Wellman's case, I'm just…advising. And he thinks we should check out Tryon first. When they see they're wrong, they'll move on."

Brennan felt anger bubbling hot in her gut. Booth would've done something. He wouldn't have waited. "But this man is still active. He could take and kill someone else, in two days, while they're wasting time at the wrong place." When Perotta didn't say anything, Brennan added, "Does the fact that you're sexually attracted to Agent Wellman impede your ability to challenge him?

Perotta's cheeks reddened instantly, and she gaped at Brennan for a moment before clearing her throat and attempting to inject some dignity into her tone, "I did challenge him, after your rant last night. All he would say is that he had a feeling. And he's the head, Dr. Brennan. This has been his case for a long time, and he will not change his mind. What would you like me to do?"

Brennan smiled grimly, a smile laced with triumph, as if Perotta had walked into a trap. "You can help me prove them wrong, and keep him from killing another innocent person."