Chapter 21: One Night More
The pungent odor of Booth's surroundings pulled him from the half slumber that he was currently. Darkness greeted him but for the steady camera on the window of his apartment building. The radio at his side was silent, the camera still. He wondered for a moment what part of the game this was for Broadsky, how much longer he'd let him go on like this. His eyes, while on the empty apartment, quickly turned into thoughts of those connected to him personally, those at risk after he died, as inevitable as that seemed right now.
He thought of Parker, his boy, his pride and joy. The thought of never seeing his son again, never hearing his laugh again, never hugging him or talking to him, it tore at his very soul. He was trying his hardest to remain positive, to figure out some way to pull himself from this death chair and overcome the murderer that had stood over him only hours earlier. He pulled at the bonds on his wrists, the sharp pain of the raw flesh beneath the tape caused him to let out an angry grunt. His teeth gnashed as he controlled his breathing, and his focus was pulled to the window on the monitor.
The light was flicked on, the apartment bathed in light. He couldn't see inside, and wondered why Broadsky's cameras weren't focused on the inside of the apartment. He listened for his captor's voice, waited for that sickening cackle to come spewing from the radio, but it never came. He was lost in his own silence in the darkness of his makeshift coffin, staring at the monitor in front of him.
He watched for what could have been a moment or several minutes, his focus was fading in and out from the persistent and sharp pain of starvation. He watched, enraptured by the silhouette of the person in his apartment. He figured it was Brennan, though with the silence of the radio he knew that it could be Broadsky. The mere thought sent his pulse spiking for a second or two, until he saw the feminine form of his partner in his window. The shades rose, and he watched as she stared out the window into the darkness of the city night.
"Get away from the window, Bones." He whispered to himself, his eyes blurring slightly, he wished that he could rub his eyes with his fingertips. "Please, Bones." He whispered. He watched in agony as she reached down and fastened her fingertips under the old window pane, pulling it up, breathing in a deep breath of fresh air. "Bones." he whispered, watching her look longingly out into the street below, he silently wondered what she was thinking, and begged her internally to close the window, to find someplace safe to go, to protect herself. The longer she stood there, the more impatient he became. He gritted his teeth and began to pull at the tape on his wrists. He kicked his legs weakly, trying to free himself, pulling at the bonds holding him down. He could feel a little slack in his wrists, but there was no way for him to pull himself free. His legs hung oddly now, numb from remaining still so long. He let out an angry grunt as he made one more sharp movement, letting out a guttural shout that shook him violently.
He was not going to give up. He couldn't give up. He wouldn't give up, not until there was nothing more he could do. Not until Broadsky finished what he started. There was movement at the window again as Brennan stepped away for a moment. He could only see a little of what was going on just inside the window, and he could feel panic starting to mount in her absence. In just a moment or two, he was suddenly faced with a vision that he never would have expected to see.
His partner, now stood in the window, her posture straight as a pin, as she lifted Booth's sniper rifle to a ready position. Her eye was to the scope, and he watched in rabid anticipation as she scoured the night with her finger lingering over the trigger. He had no idea if it was loaded, or if she even knew how to use the weapon, but she certainly looked ready to use it. What he did know was that his partner was a survivor, she was a genius, and that she never gave up. He knew that she was a prisoner to the truth, and she could teach herself anything. She may not have known how to fire that rifle yesterday, but with a little bit of research, Booth was confident that she'd have the knowledge of how to use it now. Math, physics, atmospheric changes and temperatures were all things that a sniper would need to know, and she had all that scientific knowledge and more on her side. She would not allow him to fade quietly into the night, so he would hold on one night more.
She scoured her sight line with the rifle, the scope to her eye as she took it all in. The cold metal of the gun pressed against her cheek as her eyes raked over the distant rooftops. Rationally, she knew, the move was foolhardy and dangerous. From the brief visits to her apartment she knew Broadsky had it under sophisticated surveillance, and no doubt he had more than just a bugged picture frame here as well. Leaning out of Booth's window could easily make her a target. She quickly rationalized that if he wanted to take her out, he would, and that would be that. But until that moment that she breathed her last breath, she would continue to look for her partner, and leave no metaphorical stone unturned.
Regardless of the risks involved, she needed to know the sightlines. Needed to know where a potential shot could come from and what spots she should avoid. Had it been feasible to do so without arousing suspicions, she would have done this from the surrounding rooftops looking back into Booth's apartment instead. However, there was no time for that. Every moment that Booth was out of contact, was a moment wasted.
Voices met her heightened senses and she pulled her body back into the room and closed the window. She swiftly moved toward the coat closet and stowed the rifle into it before hurrying to answer Hodgins' rapid series of knocks.
"Come in," she welcomed her friends, opening the door wide as if this were her apartment and they were joining her for drinks. Hodgins was about to step inside, but his wife put her hand on his shoulder to stop him, refusing to step inside for a moment. "What?"
Angela shook her head determinedly, though, and refused any protest thrown at her. "This isn't a social call, Bren. This is a mandatory meal break involving you, me, and Hodgins." Brennan had been working too long, too hard, and was shutting herself up in this apartment far too much. They were going to go out. Going to eat and talk about anything but Booth's disappearance or the dead guy at the lab for exactly two hours.
"I know how much Booth means to you, Sweetie," Angela said quietly nodding for Hodgins to bring his car around. "But you need to give yourself this small break, okay?"
"Only two hours?" the scientist queried, looking down at her watch to confirm the time.
"Two hours," promised her friend. "Then I promise you and Hodgie can talk bird poop, and snipers, and dead guys all you want. I'll even brew the coffee I can't have and play barkeep. Jack has a great stash we can break out. And we will figure out how to find Booth and get him back as good as new and as soon as possible."
The smile didn't quite reach Brennan's eyes as she realized Angela did not mean for her to return to the apartment, but she tried, and she reasoned with herself that the Hodgins' mansion was most likely the more secure location. She took a step toward the door and stopped. "What is it, sweetie?" Angela asked.
"I need to get something." She said, walking swiftly toward the gun case behind the couch. She pulled it up onto the cushions and swung it open. She then marched toward the coat closet.
"Sweetie, you can borrow my clothes, you don't need to pack a..." Angela stopped when Brennan swung the sniper rifle around into view. "Bren, that's a gun," she stammered.
"Actually, it's a long range sniper rifle with the capacity to take out a..."
"Very large animal at a very long distance... Doctor B., if you don't mind... explaining why you're holding a very large gun next to my very pregnant wife?" Hodgins interrupted as he stepped into the room.
Brennan began dismantling the gun, ignoring the scientist's question as she packed the rifle in the case, she latched it securely and looked up at her two friends, and then to her watch. "I'll explain after our one hour, forty nine minute, and sixteen second moratorium." She said, hefting the case into her hand, she moved for the door. "Then we will discuss my plan."
For you curious readers... the story began on a Wednesday morning... Booth was taken Thursday evening... and this update takes place on Saturday evening. Enjoy, read and review! :)