A/N: Well I'm back, and its been ages since I've looked at or even thought about this. This chapter is kinda shortish but it is leading to something in the next chapter or so, more will be revealed about Brennan's past. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this while I've been gone, and I'm hoping that I can get this finished by the end of the year, once I've figured out in my brain where this is going.
Let me know what you think about this, and as always constructive criticism is welcome.
Enjoy!!
Chapter 10
It's late when I arrive home from the lab. After our impromptu moment this afternoon Booth was called back to Headquarters, leaving with a promise to call me when he finished. With no case to work on I headed to Limbo, pulling a crate from the shelves, unloading it on a table in the silent space. After conducting a quick inventory I reloaded the bones and took them upstairs to work on. The platform was silent when I arrived back upstairs, although I could see Angela in her office, typing furiously on her computer keyboard, Hodgins and Zach peering over her shoulders. Scanning onto the platform I placed the crate on a spare exam table, laying out the bones anatomically and pulling out a fresh sheet of paper to record my observations about the person. By the time I finished working with the remains the lab was silent. A quick glance at my watch told me it was almost midnight, so I packed up for the night, hailing a taxi to take me home through the deserted streets of DC.
The tribe of reporters from this morning have packed up and I'm able to make it inside my apartment building without being accosted by anyone looking for a story. Not bothering to shower, I throw myself into bed, stretching out over the covers, still fully clothed, falling into an exhausted sleep.
The next morning I wake early, my limbs tangled in the material of my skirt from the previous day. Still half asleep I pull myself up from the bed, trudging to the bathroom, sleepily discarding my clothes as I walk. As I wash the stress of the previous day away, I take stock of the magnitude of the situation and silently hope that the mass of reporters haven't gathered on my lawn, without Booth here to drive me, I have to face them myself, something that I'm not looking forward to in the least. I remain under the steady stream until the water slowly begins to cool, and I realise that I haven't yet washed my sticky skin. Braving the considerably cooler water, I quickly scrub my skin, rinsing the soap away and stepping out, water falling off my body onto the tiled floor of my bathroom. Slowly I towel myself dry, wrapping the material around my body for the short walk to my wardrobe. Absentmindedly I select something to wear, throwing it on and tying my wet hair back from my face. Breakfast is unappealing to my stomach so I gather my keys, throwing an apple into my handbag as I make my way out of the space and towards my car.
This morning there's a much smaller contingent of reporters gathered on my lawn, I only manage to count three or four with their cameramen as I stealthily leave the parking garage. My exit goes unnoticed and I speed off towards the Jeffersonian, hopeful that there to will be a smaller group of reporters, leaving me in peace, although logically I know that until they get a comment from me, or someone close to me, then they are not likely to leave any of us alone, at least until the next big story breaks in D.C.
All is quiet at the lab as I enter. A quick survey of the area reveals that everyone is gathered in Angela's office, all around the Angelator, the golden streams indicating that it is operational, and their running through scenarios of the crime. Ignoring the urge I feel to assist, I walk towards my office, loading up my computer, and methodically stacking the files I pulled from storage yesterday. Once again settling myself in front of the computer I wait as my email inbox opens, scanning the contents as they load. Unsurprisingly there are several emails from journalists, all offering generous sums of money for the exclusive rights to my response to the media circus of the past few days. I delete them without a second thought and move onto the email from California, confirming that despite the press they would still like me to guest lecture. I type a quick response, thanking them again for the invitation, and am immersed in an email from Russ when everyone emerges from Angela's office. Booth's voice is the loudest, and from the direction that his voice is carrying I assume that he is on his way to my office. I'm not disappointed when his tall form appears in my doorway less than a minute later. "Hey," he says, hesitating slightly before entering. I offer a slight smile, returning his greeting as I stand, gesturing him towards the couch. As I approach him, his hand reaches for mine, pulling me gently towards him, as he kisses my cheek lightly. Involuntarily tears form in my eyes. He reaches up to wipe them away. Honestly I have no idea what I have done to deserve someone as generous and caring as him, and the insecure part of me still thinks, despite all the evidence to the contrary that he is only bothering with me because Angela is taken by Hodgins. The logical side of my brain slaps the insecurity away, but deep down I know it is buried somewhere in there, most probably down with the memories that I hold of that night. I pull him to me, needing to feel close to him, my head resting on his shoulder as I try desperately to quash my emotions, locking them away until I'm alone, and I feel I can really let myself feel them.
We stand there until our feet scream out in agony, and Booth sadly announces that he has to go interview a suspect. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'll be back later. I promise." He presses another kiss to my forehead and I loosen my grip, allowing him to slip away. Alone again, I approach my desk, dropping my body onto the seat, my feet catching the floor as it slides backwards. I reach for the draw to my right, lifting the contents to find what I'm searching for. Its getting old now, the paper curling at the edges as I trace the image, tears falling slowly from my eyes as the emotion wells up once again. The events of recent days have bought the pain back to the surface and I know that like the rape, this too will be dragged up from the past, to torture me all over again.