AN: Shaw gone bad... I know. So hard to believe she's snapped. I'll let Dr. Sweets give his opinion on that. Speaking of, Booth and Sweets, please hurry kthxbi. This one... get the tissues. Maybe a glass of wine or a comfort beverage, because this would be the part of the episode where everything explodes. Action, action, action.
YT playlist for this story - Remove spaces etc. (hate the no link garbage) youtube dot com (slash)playlist(?)list = PL4421A69402C5A66E
Music: Crazy Life - Toad The Wet Sprocket; Last Scene of Struggling - Finger Eleven; Thoughts of a Dying Atheist - Muse
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or plot elements of Bones used for context and grounding of story. Original elements are mine, are not for profit and are done out of love. Typos are due to tendencies of writing past midnight.
8774995 Seconds
Kasota, MN
"Booth, maybe you should slow down."
"Maybe you should shut up, Sweets," Booth replied, making an abrupt lane change and not feeling sorry at all for the car honking at him.
Sweets sighed, sinking back in the seat of the SUV. "It was just a suggestion."
"Well if you can ignore my suggestion to drive overnight to Mankato and force me to wait for a morning flight, I can ignore yours," Booth argued.
"Look, you didn't want to invite in the local authorities. You even admitted that we'd get here faster if we waited out the night!" Sweets protested. "I didn't like waiting any more than you did. I'm worried about Dr. Brennan, too."
Booth sighed, drumming his fingers on the wheel. The doctor was technically right: it was a 17-hour drive from Washington, making their travel six hours longer as opposed to waiting for the early morning flight to Minneapolis. That didn't mean he had to like sitting on his ass, unable to do anything while a psycho and an FBI agent gone rogue were out there with homicidal intentions.
The radio station changed as Sweets fiddled with the scan buttons, pushing past the now static-filled rock station to a clearer frequency. He hooted as the DJ announced the upcoming artist, earning a look of disbelief from Booth.
"Not you too," Booth groaned.
"What? This is my jam!" Sweets exclaimed.
"Toad The Wet Sprocket? Mumblers of the 90s?" Booth jeered.
"This album's special," Sweets insisted. "Used to fall asleep to it."
Booth hesitated, then blurted out, "Bones likes them, too."
"Hmm. I wouldn't have pegged her as a fan of anything so mainstream. They have great songs." He chuckled softly. "Toad The Wet Sprocket: official band of battered foster system survivors."
"Guess so."
He glanced ahead to an upcoming sign, pleased to see the connection for the 14. They were only a few miles from Mankato now. Only a few miles from answers, and maybe only miles from his family. Booth knew it was stupid to imagine that Max would hide them on family property, but he'd directed them to Margaret Whitesell for a reason. Maybe they were at another home in Mankato, easily within reach.
Too many maybes, Booth. Stick to the facts.
"Ours is the next turn-off after this," Sweets announced.
"Got it."
From the periphery of his vision, he could see that face. The one Sweets always made before asking invasive shrinky questions. And here he was, trapped in a car and dependent on him for navigation. Damn it!
"How are you doing?"
Booth frowned. "How do you think?"
"I mean, with the prospect of reunion with Dr. Brennan," Sweets clarified. "I imagine there are mixed feelings—"
"Look Sweets, I want to stay focused on the present. I want to find Bones and Christine and get them to safety. After that, we can worry about 'mixed feelings'. Got it?"
Sweets sighed. "Next left turn."
"Sure." As Booth signaled, he added, "I already talked it out with someone, okay? Long story short, I love Bones. We'll work it out."
"Good. You two complement each other in such a way that I'd hate for Pelant to ruin it."
Booth smiled unwittingly. "Thanks, Sweets."
Papers rustled as Sweets checked the GPS display. "We're definitely coming up on a side road. From there, we should find the turn for Margaret Whitesell's driveway."
Booth gripped the wheel tighter, mentally calculating his best approach. They couldn't take any chances with Pelant and Shaw on the run. They had to make allowances for every possible scenario, including a hostage situation at the farm. He prayed it wouldn't come to that, but no risk was worth endangering his family. He slowed down as they reached the final side road, studying their surroundings carefully. The Whitesell farm was one of only two residences on this lonely stretch, the other five miles further down the road. It was doubtful that the occupants had seen anything, but they could always investigate if no one was home.
A small white mailbox stood guard at the driveway's end, marked with the Whitesell name in the glossy stickers every hardware store he'd ever been inside sold for a couple bucks. The flag was down, but the door was barely closed. Booth pulled up beside the box, studying it. Someone hasn't been collecting the mail.
"What did we find out about Margaret's job?"
Sweets skimmed a page. "Waitress at a local diner, part-time farmer. Her boss said she's been on holidays for a couple days now."
"So why hasn't she picked up her mail?" Booth asked.
"She went away?" Even Sweets didn't believe in his guess.
Something's wrong. "You have your gun, Sweets?"
"Yeah, but I really hope we don't need it."
Booth sighed. "Me too. C'mon, Sweets. We're going in on foot."
Booth cut the engine and gingerly opened his door, grateful that Sweets followed suit. With a silent wave, he gestured for him to hug the tree line of the expansive drive. Booth took care to choose a path with minimal risk of noise, picking between fallen twigs, patches of gravel and other debris. Three hundred feet along, Booth spotted confirmation of his dread: a small grey car, parked within the trees on an angle.
"Crap."
"Someone's here," Sweets concurred quietly.
Booth circled the vehicle and peered inside, looking for clues to its owner. While it wasn't impossible to believe that Max would hide their vehicle from sight, Booth doubted the man would park in such a way that would slow down an escape. The wheels were lodged deep within mud. It would take serious acceleration and patience to pull back onto the road.
Footsteps in the distance sent Booth dropping to a crouch behind the car, Sweets slumping beside him. Their guns drawn, Booth peered around the front bumper, straining to see. Slender legs, bloodied and bare, moved up ahead in a staggering gait and he could hear a faint whimper. He fought the urge to charge ahead, craning for a glimpse of the mystery woman's face.
"You can't escape!" a voice yelled.
"Shaw?" Sweets murmured.
Booth wasn't certain, but it definitely was a feminine voice that very much reminded him of Genny. The bloodied woman made it into the wooded surroundings of the home, a flash of dark hair streaking by as her face came into view. Margaret. She fell to the ground, scrambled up and fell again as a pop cut through the unnatural silence of the morning.
"We have to help her!" Sweets insisted.
"Slowly," Booth cautioned.
They edged forward, Booth scanning the perimeter in search of Shaw. A door slammed to their left, followed by the wail of a distraught infant. Christine! It was his nightmare come true: Shaw had found his family first, possibly with Pelant. With Margaret shot down, he knew that there would be no reasoning with his former colleague: this was worst case scenario in every possible way.
By the time they reached Margaret, she was oozing blood from her mouth and nose, her breathing shallow. Sweets moved to check her vitals as Booth studied the nearby farmhouse. Two vehicles were parked outside: a black truck matching the description of Margaret's vehicle and a large sedan with Ohio licence plates.
"She… Temp…" Margaret coughed violently, eyes lolling shut. "She…"
"Is Pelant here?" Booth asked. "Is there a man too?"
"No… Barn… Barn…"
It was Vincent all over again. Booth knew she wasn't going to make it. He gently pushed the hair from her face and reached for her hand.
"She'll pay for this, Margaret. I'm so sorry."
"Booth?" Sweets looked ill as he stared at the spreading pool of blood beneath her body. "Booth, should we?"
"Not enough time," he whispered.
Her hand flinched once in his, a faint squeeze before her body fell limp. Time to be strong. Time to save your family.
"Shaw's gone rogue," Booth whispered. "What's in her head?"
"Um… Okay. Pelant enjoys the game. He's like Howard Epps or Heather Taffet. Cat and mouse stuff. You're no good to him dead, and neither is Dr. Brennan. If Shaw's here alone, she's gone off the game plan. He'd be pissed."
"So what's her plan?"
Sweets winced. "Shaw has absolutely nothing to lose. She's lost her son, his father, her own father, her faith in the system… everything. I can't imagine her hurting Christine because of the loss of her son, but Brennan and Max… I don't know. Max is a criminal and Brennan bucked the system. Shaw also idolizes you, so her departure may seem like an offense against the system as well, with you being its ideal representative."
He recalled Shaw's comments as they watched the footage from Abilene, remembering her confusion at his lack of rage. Sweets made a hell of a lot of sense.
The baby cried out again and Booth felt his limbs twitching. I have to get my daughter. A door creaked open and shut, but it wasn't the front door. Remembering what Margaret had said, he understood his best strategy.
"You're right," he said. "Christine's in the house, safe for now. Bones and Max must be in the barn. Sweets, you have to get my daughter. Get Christine, get back to our car and call for back-up. EMS and uniforms."
"I can't let you go in alone," Sweets protested.
"If I'm worried about Christine, I can't focus on Shaw. Please, Sweets, listen to me. Get the baby and get back-up. If Shaw comes at you, drive away. Do not hesitate. Promise me."
"Okay, Booth."
"Promise, Sweets!"
"I promise," the doctor said solemnly. "I won't let Christine get hurt."
"Give me a few minutes to get near the barn and then move in. Let's make sure Shaw's away from the house."
Sweets nodded and Booth edged forward, cutting through the trees towards the parked vehicles. They seemed his best choice for cover for the transition behind the house. Grateful for his casual attire and the grip of his cross-trainers, he slid between the truck and car, glancing in all directions. On the ground near the driver's side door of the car, he detected spots of blood in the gravel and winced. Bones. He knew it instinctively. Gritting his teeth, he rounded the truck, studying the lay of the land. The barn was a good forty or fifty feet away, on a slight diagonal to the right of him. He couldn't see Shaw anywhere, but the distressed cow he heard suggested that something was wrong inside its red walls.
He made a quick break for the trees to his right, planning to hug them as he made for the barn. By the time he'd closed within twenty feet of the structure, he spotted Sweets making a hurried rush for the farmhouse proper. Christine would be safe soon.
"Don't you put your hands on my daughter, you little bitch!"
Max. His words were pained, indicating serious injury. Booth was running out of time. He rushed along the property, diving for cover near the barn's rear entrance as Shaw began to speak.
"And what are you going to do about it? You should be thanking me, Mr. Keenan. Your daughter has been nothing but trouble, hasn't she? Protecting her is a full-time job." Shaw stepped into view and Booth felt a chill run down his spine. "Did you really care to hide her for these last few months, or was it misplaced guilt from her childhood abandonment?"
"You're crazier than that hacker bastard," Max muttered from somewhere unseen.
"Maybe I am. But that will be our little secret, won't it?" Booth edged closer, concealing himself behind the ajar door. "By the time they find you, I'll just be the sole survivor of Pelant's latest murderous rampage. I can actually thank Ms. Whitesell for that hit to the face. Lends a little credibility, doesn't it?"
"Shaw, you don't have to do this…"
Bones. Equally pained, yet defiant. Shaw spun around, raising her pistol overhead. Booth winced as it made contact, his partner yowling in pain. There was no clear shot yet around the beams and equipment, and a miss gave her opportunity to kill Bones. He couldn't risk it. He'd have to move closer.
"You don't deserve him," Shaw berated her captive. "You took his daughter. You left him. I've heard the stories around the office, you know. Read the files, too. Dr. Sweets is very meticulous. Over and over, you break his heart. And now, now you've spat in the face of justice itself. He's one of the few who actually believe in the concept, someone with honour. How do you expect him to hold his head up in the Hoover?"
It hit him then why Shaw had gone off course: she's completely fixated on me. He'd long known that she had a bit of hero worship going on, perhaps a crush that he'd worked hard to never encourage. But this was… obsessive. Much deeper than what Sweets had predicted. It was also his ticket to move within range.
"I expect… Booth will leave me…" Bones was speaking now, her words shaky. "You're right…"
No she isn't!
Shaw began to pace, veering in and out of sight, and Booth knew that this was his only chance to move in. She was verging on that final move, her kill shots. He intentionally slammed past the rear door as he entered, ducking within a stall.
"Who's there?" Shaw yelled.
"You don't want to do this, Shaw," he called out.
"Booth," Bones said.
"I'll shoot her!" she threatened. "Toss your weapon to me or I'll do it!"
Fine. I have another, Booth thought. Stepping out of the stall with the gun over his head, he moved slowly towards her.
"Drop it!" she screamed.
"I will if you stop shouting and talk to me, Shaw," Booth stated calmly.
"Drop it," she growled.
Booth tossed the gun towards Shaw, memorizing where it fell. He edged forward into the centre of the barn, quickly surveying the situation. Max was on the ground several feet to his left, his wrists bound behind his back and both feet at alarming angles indicating severe fractures. To his right, a scant foot away from Shaw, lay Bones, handcuffed. A large wound to her forehead had scabbed over, with another fresh cut trickling blood beside it. Her glazed expression suggested possible drugging, although the head injuries could also be a factor.
But Shaw… She was no longer the woman he knew. Her disheveled hair and fierce eyes were those of a desperate killer. She would not hesitate to strike if pushed. This was bad. Very, very bad.
He kept his voice calm and low as he spoke. "Shaw, talk to me. What's going on?"
"Cleaning up. Taking out the trash," she said angrily. "The corruption… God, it sickens me. I got into the Bureau because I believed in this country. I believed in justice. But it's a lie, isn't it?"
"There's justice. I've helped close cases and send criminals to jail. I've helped people find answers." Booth shifted a half-step closer. "There's corruption, but we can fight it. We can clean it up, using the system."
Her gun remained fixed on Bones, but her eyes studied him. "Do you really believe in that? How can you be so blind, after all Pelant has shown us? Flynn was one of the worst in the bunch and yet Hacker handed him your job."
"And then Cam and I removed him, using the system," Booth reminded her. "Shaw, you're better than this. You're better than murder."
"Love is blind," she said wistfully. "You'll never see. You never see what she does. I have to bring you back to the side of justice."
"Tell me, then, " Booth demanded. "Tell me what I haven't seen. I'm listening now, Shaw."
His eyes flickered to Max, who nodded slightly. He understood the game he was playing out. He also remained ready, should Booth be able to kick that gun along the floor to his waiting hands.
"She lied in court! She purposely spun the evidence to incriminate herself so he'd walk!" Shaw jerked her head towards Max. "And then, because she's the mighty Dr. Temperance Brennan, she also walked. They should have charged her next, but they didn't. She flouted the system, manipulated it. She's not good enough for you, Booth."
"She's right," Bones chimed in.
At this, Shaw spun, glaring at the woman. "Shut up! Just stop talking!"
Booth edged closer still. If he dove, he could probably secure his weapon and discharge it before Shaw could retaliate. Probably wasn't good enough. The piece strapped to his ankle was an awkward reach. He needed to draw her attention elsewhere.
"Shaw, you don't get it. No one is perfect. We all make mistakes," he said.
"It made sense to frame her for murder," Shaw muttered. "Considering she toyed with it before. I gave Christopher credit for that tactic. The irony was rich."
"Then why not come after me?" Booth asked.
"You've done nothing wrong. You're a man with integrity."
"God, does she ever shut up?" Max grumbled.
Shaw spun and kicked him in the ribs. "Do you?" she snapped.
In that brief moment, Booth shifted his personal pistol into the back of his jeans. It was time to take her down. But first, he needed to draw her gun away from Bones and Max.
"Shaw, who do you think told Bones to protect her father?" Booth asked. "I'm the one who agreed to spin the evidence as possibly fitting her. I'm the one who recommended no prosecution—"
"Booth, no!" Bones shouted.
"I love her. I'm the corrupt one of us, Shaw. Where's your wrath for me?" he pressed.
That did it: the gun was spun to face him, Shaw's face turning crimson. "You're lying!"
"Read the court transcripts. Ask Caroline. Ask Max. You've been gunning for the wrong partner," Booth said.
And with that, he launched himself at her, knocking her to the ground.
The struggle was fierce, the petite agent surprisingly strong and driven by adrenaline. Her head slammed into Booth's, stunning him briefly as she followed with a pistol strike to his temple. His leg flew out and tripped her as she rose, driving her face into the ground. Her knee connected with his groin and he grunted as a fire spread, leaving him gasping. He scrambled to his hands and knees, catching a knee to the kidney and crumpling.
He was going to fail her. He was failing Bones when she needed him most.
He reached for the gun in his waistband and rolled onto his back, aiming up as Shaw stood over him, finger on the trigger. Fine. We'll go down together.
"No!"
The scream echoed through the barn as two shots were fired and one woman fell on top of Booth, her blonde hair cascading over his shoulder. A second shot rang out from Booth's pistol, his arm wrapped around his partner as he aimed for and took out Shaw's kneecap. The agent yowled as he fired again, her pistol dislodging from her bleeding hand.
"Bones!" Booth shouted, tilting her face to his.
"Booth," she whispered.
"What did you do?" he whispered, rolling her gently off of him.
"Booth!" Max called out.
He slid his gun to Max, who aimed it at the wailing woman bleeding beside him. "Don't kill her if you don't have to."
"I don't plan to," he heard Max say as he crouched over Bones. "I can't wait to see what her hacker friend does to her behind bars."
"Bones? Stay awake, Bones," Booth pleaded.
The bullet had gone clear through, from her back through her ribs, on a strange angle. The handcuffs were off somehow, her bloodied wrists bare. He tore at his jacket, pressing it beneath her to staunch the entry wound. His hands pressed to her chest, sticky fluid seeping between his fingers.
"Booth… Chris…."
"Sweets has her. Stay with me, Bones. Help's coming."
She was so pale, so fragile. God, what had he done? How had he fucked this up? Distantly, he could hear approaching sirens and knew this was a good thing. But the blood… There was so much blood.
He heard Shaw whimper, heard Max's finger shift on the trigger. Heard him threaten to blow her head off. And still Bones bled, her eyes rolling back.
"What were you thinking?" he asked her. "Why'd you do that?"
"Couldn't…. Not again… Not you…" She gasped, her face scrunching in agony. "Booth… Love you…"
"I love you, too. Just stay awake, Bones. They're coming." He pressed harder, as if he could press her life back into her body and keep it there. Keep her.
God, please don't do this. Please don't take her from me. Not like this.
Footsteps approached. Shouting voices. Booth couldn't understand them. He couldn't understand this.
"Bones… Temperance, come on…"
Her eyes fell closed and Booth began to scream.
I'm just going to be over here in full body armor and under witness protection... Yeah, again: hate where my characters take me sometimes. But I love canon, people. Love it.
Dear Hart: don't follow my lead and kill off Maggie. Bring her back in a recurring capacity like Max. Yes. Do that.