A/N: Sorry for the suspense - hope this keeps you happy for a bit!
Disclaimer: Bones ain't mine.
Dr. Brennan banged the door again with the heavy metal knocker. Come on, Booth, I know you're in there. She had seen his lights go out as she had rounded the corner to his street, so she knew that he couldn't have been asleep just yet. Knocking for a third time, she called out, "Booth? It's me!" Getting no response, she elaborated, "It's Brennan!" Hearing nothing, she tried again, frustration mounting, "Open up, Booth! I just need to ask you something!"
She heard the sound of the door being unlocked and stepped back. Booth appeared at the door looking tired and stressed, and she could've sworn she saw relief pass over his face when he saw her there. She immediately looked to his hands, but one was behind the door and the other was in his pocket. Damn.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" she asked, some of the tension from their earlier argument still present.
Expecting some kind of sarcastic comment in reply, she was surprised when he just said, "It's late, Bones..."
"I'll be quick," she said, unaware of his obvious discomfort, and she moved past him into the dark house. Glancing nervously outside, Booth shut the door and followed her in, turning the lights back on as he went.
"What's do you want, Bones?" he asked tiredly, praying she would take the hint and leave.
Brennan, who had never knowingly taken a hint in her life, said bluntly, "Let me see your hands."
Booth raised his eyebrows in surprise, but kept his hands firmly planted in the pockets of his pants. He'd been so busy trying to get his defence together that he hadn't yet changed out of his suit and at that moment he was thankful for the long sleeves of the shirt that covered his bandaged wrists. "Why do you want to see my hands?" he asked suspiciously.
Temperance sighed. Why were people always less willing to show you something if they knew you wanted to see it? "Angela told me to come here and look at your hands," she said, reluctant to admit that she had no idea why she wanted to see them. "Stop being such a child and just let me look." Booth made no movement. "I'm not leaving here till I see them," she threatened seriously.
Keen to get her to leave, Booth held his hands out quickly and wiggled his fingers. "They're just hands, Bones, see?" He placed one on the small of her back and guided her towards the door. "Thanks for dropping by, see you around."
He tried to manoeuvre her out of the door but she grabbed his elbow and turned round, examining his hand more closely. "What's the matter, Bones, am I missing a finger or something?" he inquired in frustration. She let go of his hand and stepped back away from the door, a mixture of confusion and betrayal on her face.
"You lied to me," she said, hurt mingling with anger, "You were never in a fight. You've got no bruises on your knuckles, so you can't have hit anyone, but you've not got any defensive wounds either. In a fight, humans instinctively bring their hands up to their face to defend themselves, but you didn't. What's going on, Booth?"
"Nothing, Bones, okay?" he said, quickly. He knew she wouldn't believe him, but he had to try to do something to get rid of her. Denial seemed the best option. Seeing that she wasn't convinced, he spoke again, harshly, "This really isn't your business, Dr. Brennan. You made it pretty clear today that you don't need me as your partner. We don't work together anymore and I don't need you here. Get out."
She stepped back, stunned at what he had said to her. Glaring at him, she yelled, "Fine! Have it your way. I actually came out here to give you a second chance, but it looks like I was right with the first one." Angrily, she walked back to the door, trying not to look at her former partner. Suddenly, a piece of paper with her name on caught her eye and she stopped, reading it in horror,
Quis custodiet custodem, Dr Brennan?
Prove that Maria Clarke was not killed by Marco Gianni Dellato.
Her remains and all evidence gathered should be boxed up and will be collected from outside the side entrance to the Jeffersonian at 11pm on Wednesday evening.
She slowly raised her eyes from the paper to look at Booth. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. For the first time in her life, Brennan was speechless.
Seeing her eyes drop back to the paper, Booth moved over to her quickly, doing his best to reassure her. "Bones, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I never wanted you to find out like this. Please believe me..." He reached out to touch her but she backed away from his hand, still in shock. "Temperance, please..."
She met his gaze again, and said slowly, "You're the target. They did this to you because of me, didn't they?"
"No," he said firmly, grasping her arm, "This is not your fault."
She pulled her arm away roughly. "Stop lying to me!" she shouted. "What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me? This is my problem, Booth, that letter is addressed to me!"
"I'm sorry," he replied quietly. "I thought I could handle it, make it go away or something. I didn't want..." He took a deep breath. "I didn't want to put you through this. I didn't want you to have to do what they wanted because of me."
"That was never your choice to make," she said, flatly. "You should have told me."
"I'm sorry," he said, quietly but sincerely. She softened as she saw the honesty and regret in his eyes.
"What happened, Booth?" she asked gently. "How did you really get those bruises?"
He looked down, ashamed, "I, uh, I was walking back up to my car, when I got jumped by someone. I managed to take his gun away from him, but three others came up behind me, all armed. They shoved me against a wall, took my gun, cell and jacket then told me to put that on." He motioned to the guard jacket that hung over a chair still. Temperance nodded in comprehension.
"Quis custodiet custodem?" she said, as if that explained it clearly. Booth gestured for her to elaborate and she did, "It's Latin for "Who guards the guard?". Usually it is used in an analogical sense to apply to the need to police state rulers, who are themselves above the law, but I think they are using it literally here. The guard jacket confirms your role as our protector, and so..."
"They think I can't look after myself either," Booth finished, slightly bitterly.
Temperance suddenly remembered what she had said to him earlier in the day and spoke quietly, filled with guilt, "Booth, about before, I'm so sorry. You know that I wouldn't-"
She was silenced by a grateful nod from Booth, "I know, Bones, I know."
The silence that hung in the air was so awkward that Brennan almost felt relieved to have a question to ask. "Did you recognise any of the men who attacked you?"
He shook his head. "They all had their faces covered and only one spoke. I might recognise the voice if I heard it again, but it sounded similar to Marco Dellato."
"A brother?" she inquired.
"It's not Luca, I spoke to him today and his voice didn't sound familiar. Could've been Sal, but there's no way I can prove that."
"What else did they do?" she prompted gently, hoping he might remember something important.
"That was the most important bit really, " he said, despondently. "After that, they handcuffed me to the railings on the stairs, beat me up, burned me with that damn target of theirs, then knocked me out. Next thing I remember is waking up with duct tape on my mouth, that message in a hat on my head and a helluva lot of bruises."
"How long were you there for?" she asked, pity in her voice.
"Till Angela came by this morning and let me go," he answered, matter-of-factly.
"Angela?! She knew?"
"Whoa, Bones, no! I told her pretty much what I told you this morning. I don't think she bought it, but you don't tend to argue with a guy who's spent the night as a human punchbag." She looked appalled by this comparison and Booth gave her the most reassuring smile he could manage. "Hey, it's okay, I'm fine, see?" He winked at her with his bruised eye and for the first time that evening a smile crossed her face.
Their smiles disappeared as they heard a second car stop in front of Booth's house. Peering through the window, they saw five men, dressed in black, get out and start walking up the drive. Brennan could hear Booth's breathing become shallow and she felt her own heart begin to pound in her chest. "What do we do?" she whispered urgently, hoping that he would have a plan.
Booth didn't have a plan. His last option, of going down, guns ablazing, and hopefully taking some of them with him, had been thwarted by Brennan's arrival. He couldn't risk her getting hurt if an all-out firefight started.
Pulling her away from the window, he looked her straight in the eyes and spoke as clearly and calmly as he could manage, "Listen to me. I don't have a lot of time here, but I want you to do something for me. Don't give up, okay? Don't give them what they want. Make sure they pay for this. Use any traces that you can find on the letter or the guard uniform. Get Angela to show you where the attack took place and look there. I need you to help me, Bones, but I need you to do it without giving up."
She shook her head, amazed at what she was hearing, "No! What if we can't find any more evidence? What if they kill you because of me? We need to give them what they want, it's the only way that they'll leave us alone."
"No, it's not. If you get me back by giving up your only chance to get justice for Maria Clarke, you will blame me forever. You won't mean to, but you will. I don't want that, Temperance, so I need you to promise me that you'll find some other way to help me."
He was silenced by a loud bang against the door.
"Promise me!" he said, panic rising in his voice. She nodded mutely, scared by how frightened Booth was. She had seen so many emotions in him throughout their partnership, but she had never seen him this afraid.
Seeing her silent nod, Booth gave a small sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said honestly, looking her in the eyes. There was another thud at the door, as the men outside tried to get in.
"Booth," she said, quietly, as they crouched together at the back of the room, "I don't want you to die."
He gave her a small smile. "Good," he said, in the strongest voice he could manage, "Then you won't kill me for doing this." Before she could open her mouth to object, he pulled her into a kiss, and to Brennan, it seemed like the rest of the world went away for a moment. As quickly as it has started, the kiss ended when Booth leapt suddenly to his feet, Brennan following.
They stood there, helpless, as the five men brought their guns to rest on them, smiling coldly.
Thoughts? Comments? Improvements? Please review!
Next chapter should be up soon.