Part 11
Booth was startled out of sleep to find Brennan straddling his chest, pressing the cold steel of a knife to his throat.
"Who are you and what have you done with my Booth?"
His eyes flew open in the dark bedroom. He was safe, for now; still undetected. Brennan dozed beside him, seemingly unaware. He tried to slow his breathing and listen to hers. She needed to be sound asleep before he made any moves.
Out of habit he scanned the room, but there was nothing to see except moonlight angling through the bars on the window. At times he thought he heard faint voices, like the sound of other revelers coming through the thick walls.
Now he looked at Brennan's silhouette beside him. As much as he needed to find Hodgins and get out of here, he felt strangely reluctant. What were things really like, between this other Booth and Brennan?
He knew Bones could take care of herself, no matter where she was. She'd slugged some overbearing drunk on the dance floor earlier. She probably had more martial arts skills than his Bones. She'd even said "that's how I like it" for rough sex.
But when she bragged about how many people she'd killed, he'd seen that hint of… something. Almost like she had to live up to the example his counterpart had set. What if the other Booth was completely warped, whereas this Brennan next to him…
She stirred, and he thought she might wake up. His heart beat faster, but she settled back into sleep.
What if I told her about that mirror? I could show it to her… I could even bring her back through it. Get her away from this twisted world.
But on the other side… What would happen to his Bones, if another version of her appeared?
And when he thought back on the things he'd seen today… She'd been wearing a familiar lab coat, standing over a body, and talking about manipulating evidence. His Brennan would never do that. She valued scientific integrity above almost everything else.
This Brennan… when they'd been lying here together, after the second time, she started musing about artifacts. He remembered those boxes in her office, that she had to sort through and "re-authenticate"—make up believable histories for the selfish purposes of foreign regimes.
She'd been toying with the massage hedgehog while she spoke, then held it up with a little smile. "This is from a different culture, you know. I've had it for so long I've forgotten the original context. And because we fabricate so many other histories, it's hard to keep the actual ones straight. But that's what's so interesting, isn't it?"
He recognized that light of scientific enthusiasm in her eyes.
"It would be strange to have only one fixed origin for each of these items. As if truth were some constant that you couldn't modify."
"Yeah," he grunted, so it seemed he was agreeing.
"This way is much better, to re-make stories that fit the current political balance. So much more exciting and challenging. Not to mention useful and profitable, right?" She gave a crooked grin, like his Brennan trying to make a joke.
He'd smiled back, feeling sick.
No, he told himself now. I have to get out of here. Alone.
But, when her slow and steady breathing told him she was asleep, he couldn't help brushing a kiss on her hair.
Then he rolled out of bed and silently collected his clothes from the floor. He pulled them on in the dark, then carried his shoes to the door. Feeling for the deadbolts, he wondered, Is Brennan in danger if I go and leave them unlocked?
It couldn't be helped. He slipped out into the office and closed the heavy door behind him. Then he stood in the shadows, listening.
No sign that Bones had woken up. No sign of anyone moving in the hallway, either. Booth bent down to put on his shoes.
Wait—there was someone. Swiftly he dropped to the ground and squirmed under the desk, behind the boxes of artifacts.
A person dressed all in black stole into the office. Booth crouched absolutely still, trying to get a better glimpse. There was something oddly familiar…
The figure moved into a shaft of moonlight from the window, and he knew.
It was him. The other Booth.
Hodgins had said that wasn't possible. Was it?
Booth hardly dared to breathe. He was pretty sure he'd be dead if he was discovered.
The figure paused at the bedroom door. Then he drew what must be a key from his pocket, and clicked the first lock. With the deadbolts already open, he swung the door, went through, and closed it behind him.
Booth stayed still for a second, stunned. He didn't know what he was waiting for. But he really wanted to know what was happening in that room. Would the other him be slipping into bed, the place he'd just left? Would Brennan just roll over and put her arm around him, or would she wake up and ask questions?
He had to get out of here. Ducking out from under the desk, he was halfway down the hall in a few seconds.
Where was Hodgins? What if he was still locked in some pleasure room with Angela and Grayson? Would his counterpart have arrived now, too?
Booth moved quickly around the edges of the large lab, or rather dance floor. A few couples still breathed heavily in dark corners. Skirting them, Booth rounded a plant and almost tripped over a lounge chair. A hand reached out and caught his jacket.
"Booth?"
"Hodgins! I mean… you're my Hodgins, right?
"Huh?"
"Yeah, you are. Come on, let's get out of here."
He pulled Hodgins off the sofa and they started back the way they'd come. By the light of a few dim lamps, Booth could see the other man's appearance. And it was probably what he looked like, too. Dazed. Disheveled. Giddy.
Booth asked, "How did you get out here?"
"Well, the two of them… We all… Afterward they decided I should go. So they just dumped me out in the hallway. I tried to find you but…"
"I just saw the other Booth go into Bren's bedroom. If she wakes up they could be on our tail in seconds. Come on."
He turned down a back hallway, trying to remember where the stairs were. Yep—here. But a sleepy guard was posted at the top. Seeing them, he roused himself.
"Hey. What's…?"
"Just some official business," Booth said, "that couldn't wait until tomorrow. I'll let you know if I need you."
"Uh, yes, sir." He waved them by, looking puzzled.
"Thank God I have enough authority around here," Booth muttered as they hurried along a basement corridor. "Now where the hell is that mirror?"
Hodgins was not being any help. When Booth paused at a turnoff, Jack bumped into him. "Would you be careful?"
"Sorry." He finally took a good look at Booth, and a silly grin spread over his face. "You and Brennan, huh? I mean, we always knew you two… But I didn't think this would be the way…"
"Yeah, and what about you? Angela already has you whipped in our world, so in this one…"
"Dude." He shook his head slowly. "You have no idea. I mean, they… I… I had to share her with Grayson. But he's… he's not bad looking, and Angela wanted—"
"Please! No details!" Booth started walking again, peering down darkened corridors.
"Yeah," Hodgins agreed, following him. "But you know what the weird thing is? I don't think I'm jealous anymore."