We're gearing up for the end! I'm not sure if this will be three or four more chapters yet, but I'm hoping to finish the final scenes this weekend. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews last chapter, you guys are the best! Hope you like this one just as much. :)
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Chapter 26
Booth grimly acknowledged to himself that this was the break he'd been needing in order to get anywhere with his investigation into her parents' disappearance. There hadn't been evidence of anything, and therefore there had been no just cause to open a federal case. Until now.
He delegated a few miscellaneous tasks to several junior agents, making the most of his resources now that he had an open case which allowed him to do so. Booth refocused his efforts on digging into the Brennans' pasts, going as far back as he could. The information was spotty in places, but he did manage to discover that Christine Brennan had been a witness for the prosecution on tax evasion charges more than once. That information was something he hadn't been able to access without cause for digging through the old records-cause being an official case.
She'd been a bookkeeper who had helped to blow the whistle on some clients, and Booth thought it was a reasonable motive for murder or at least harassment. He knew that the squints hadn't found cause of death yet, and he could hear Brennan's voice in his head telling him not to jump to conclusions. So he shifted his focus to the family car, and a few phone calls later, it was on its way to the FBI.
Booth glanced at the clock so many times throughout the day that if someone had been watching him, they might've wondered if he had an involuntary tic. He texted Angela for the third time to request an update on Brennan. Angela had agreed to keep an eye on her and report back to Booth if it seemed like she was coming apart. But she wasn't, at least not outwardly. Angela texted back to say that Brennan was still in her office, typing like a madwoman on her laptop. She didn't know what Brennan was writing, but she'd been at it for hours.
Booth sighed and pursed his lips, knowing exactly what his girlfriend was doing. He'd seen her behave much the same way as she had tried to compartmentalize her near-death experience at the hands of Jamie Kenton. She may have just handed in her manuscript, but he was certain that she was now working on her third book. She never acknowledged it, but Booth had noticed that she had a tendency to disappear into her writing when her reality became too intense for her. It was similar to the way she liked to hide out in Bone Storage as a way to avoid difficult conversations or circumstances. However, he knew that 'Limbo' wasn't a viable option for her today. Not only would she be reminded that her mother had been down there with her all along, but she probably doubted her ability to focus on something as important to her as a case.
It was a few more hours before Booth finally allowed himself to call it a day and head back to the lab. He'd been fighting the urge to check on her himself for most of the day. He texted Brennan to let her know that he was on his way to pick her up, and he called in a to-go order on the way to the lab. He didn't go into detail with Sid, but Booth requested something that would be comforting and easy on her stomach, telling his old friend that Brennan was having a particularly bad day.
As he locked his car and walked quickly toward the lab, Booth found himself hoping that he wouldn't have to work too hard to get her to come home with him. He knew that while the lab was no longer the place she considered home, it was still her house of reason.
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Brennan had indeed started a third novel, and she had punched her fingers rapidly into the keyboard for hours, laying out an intricate plot involving a serial killer who hunted bureaucrats. Beyond her office door, her squints worked diligently to piece together the details of her mother's death, and Brennan forced herself not to leave the office. She wanted to work the case, but she felt emotionally unstable, which was something that she couldn't allow in the workplace. They hadn't been wrong to try to get her to go home, but Brennan couldn't bear the thought of pacing around her apartment or Booth's simply...waiting. She would've gone insane.
A light knock sounded at her door, and she took a deep breath, expecting it to be Angela, checking up on her again. She didn't look up from her computer screen before she spoke.
"Angela, I'm fine. I was fine an hour ago, and I'm still fine. Tell Booth to relax."
"Yeah, I agree. You sound totally fine," Booth answered. Her eyes snapped up from her laptop, and she turned quickly to look at him.
"Sorry. It's just that she's been hovering all day, and I figured it was because you must've asked her to."
Booth flushed a little but admitted nothing.
"Ready to go? I called Sid, he's gonna have something good waiting for us," he told her, testing out a charm smile. Brennan hesitated a moment before returning a reluctant smile of her own.
"Yes, just a moment." Booth watched as she saved her document and enabled the password protection, confirming for him that he'd been correct about what she was writing. He helped gather her things and pulled her into a hug before they left the office. She returned it gratefully, realizing that although she had thought she wanted time alone that day, she really had missed his presence.
They left the lab hand in hand, passing the squints without a word, though Brennan did notice that no one seemed to be winding things down for the evening. Booth spotted Angela watching them from her office window, and he covertly mouthed a 'thank you' in her direction. She nodded back and gave him a sad smile.
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Brennan remained silent on the drive home and stayed in the car while Booth ran in to get their food from Sid. She was torn between wanting to know what progress he'd been able to make that day and an almost equal desire to maintain her emotional status quo. She wasn't sure how much more she could handle in one day.
Booth locked her front door behind them and carried their food to the table while Brennan retrieved one of his beers out of her fridge and poured herself a glass of wine. She changed into her pajamas and tied one of her silk robes around her before joining him. Once they were seated, Brennan pulled in a fortifying breath and asked the question.
"Were you able to find anything today?"
Booth's hand slowed almost imperceptibly as he brought a forkful of noodles to his mouth, and he nodded, eyeing her warily. She had never asked him about his progress with her parents' file since she'd given it to him after the woodchipper case, and he knew that there could be no more holding back.
"Yeah, but… there's more to it than that. After you gave me your parents' missing persons file, I did some poking around."
"You worked on it?" Her surprise caught him off guard. Had she not actually expected him to?
"Of course. Granted, there hasn't been a lot of time, and even if there had been, there wasn't much I could do. There was no evidence, no clear jurisdiction." He leaned back in his seat as she nodded, looking disappointed. Booth sighed and continued, "Listen, Bones. Finding your mother's remains means that I can open an official FBI case. I mean, for the first time, a real investigation can occur."
Brennan sipped her wine and nodded, thinking back to the last time she'd seen her parents, waving goodbye cheerfully as they left to do their last minute holiday shopping.
"Three days after my parents disappeared, they found our car at a rest stop a thousand miles from where we lived in Chicago."
"Yeah," he nodded, "I found it in a federal impound lot in Jersey. I'm having it trucked to the FBI."
"They kept it all those years?"
"Well, nobody claimed it," he reasoned. He opened the file he'd brought home and glanced over it briefly as he ate. "Your father was a high school science teacher. He had no trouble with anyone at work. And then your mother… that's a different matter," he said hesitantly.
"She was a bookkeeper," Brennan replied, unsure as to why anyone would have trouble with her mother at work or anywhere else.
"She was a witness for the prosecution. Twice, on evasion charges. That gives motive." He closed the file again and took a drink of his beer before continuing. "Then there's uh...your brother."
"Russ. The brother who deserted me." Booth gazed at her and felt a pang of regret. It was the first time he'd heard her say it so plainly.
"He's on parole. He ran a chop shop processing stolen cars for parts."
"Figures," Brennan replied, shaking her head ruefully.
"He thinks that you blame him for your parents' disappearance," Booth said quietly, hating the look of shock on her face as she processed his words.
"You talked to Russ?" Her tone was almost icy.
"I called him. Just asked him a few routine questions. He didn't give me much." At the moment, Booth wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Look, I didn't intend to keep it from you or anything, it was just...the conversation didn't get me anywhere, you know? I figured that I'd bring it all up with you when I had something to tell. The last thing I wanted to give you was another dead end."
Brennan understood his logic and did her best not to feel betrayed. I'm the one who asked him to look into it, she chided herself. Of course he would've talked to Russ… It wasn't that Brennan had forgotten about giving him the file, but she had formed a pattern over the years of not thinking about her family. It simply hadn't been on her mind. Now, however, she found herself appreciating the fact that he'd followed through.
"I understand, Booth. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that I'm not grateful for the fact that you tried. I just hadn't really thought about it since I gave you the file. When did you even find time to work on it? Our caseload has been almost non-stop for months."
"I managed. I'm sorry I couldn't find more." His brown eyes were shining with compassion, and she was struck yet again by how lucky she was to have him. She couldn't imagine trying to go through this alone.
"Thank you," Brennan replied simply. Booth reached across the table to hold her hand.
"Any time."
She could read the sincerity in his expression and smiled in spite of the ache in her heart. After they had finished their meals and moved to the living room, Brennan surprised him by settling herself on his lap in much the same position she'd been in earlier that day in her office. Booth certainly wasn't complaining; he wanted nothing more than to make her pain more bearable. He'd give her whatever she needed.
"I love you, baby. I'm so sorry this is happening."
Brennan pulled back a little in his arms so that she could see his face, and she closed her eyes appreciatively when he brought his palm gently to her cheek.
"I love you too. I'll be okay… I always knew she was probably dead. That both of them were...even if it's only my mother's remains that were found. I expected to find them together though, I guess. I'm not sure if it would've been a comfort or just made things even harder."
"I know that you didn't expect to find her alive, but…I really hoped that we would, that maybe I would be able to give you that."
Brennan placed a lingering kiss to his jaw and smiled sadly at him, amazed once more by the strength of his heart. Booth's arms tightened around her a little, allowing her to press herself closer against his chest, and they shared a mutual sigh of contentment.
When he finally convinced her to get some sleep, he curled around her in bed and wished that they could stay right there until the whole thing was over. Booth was fairly certain that things were going to get worse before they got better, but he knew she was strong. He just had to keep her from disappearing behind those walls he'd been working to tear down.
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Booth walked into the lab the following morning scarcely an hour after he'd dropped her off. A couple of his agents had gotten back to him with some new details, and he'd tracked the lead down a rabbit hole he hadn't anticipated. He dreaded telling her what he'd found, but there was no way around it.
He could hear her voice carry over the stone floor before he saw her.
"No, seven years. It should be seven years."
"I'm still going through soil samples, but something in there might allow me to be more specific," Hodgins answered, sounding uncomfortable.
"She was buried near Christmas, 1991," Brennan insisted. Booth rounded the corner and spotted her standing with Zack and Hodgins at one of the workstations near the platform.
"I need the room guys," he told them, inhaling slowly to steady himself. Each of them said something flippant before they left, but Booth wasn't listening. He was studying his partner's expression, unsure as to how she would handle his news.
"What?" she asked nervously.
"When you first gave me the file on your parents, I...I looked back into their lives three to four years before they disappeared. Jobs, friends…"
"Okay…"
"I looked back a little further, and I found that...Christine Brennan didn't exist before 1978," he told her cautiously. Brennan's features registered only confusion, and he could see that she wasn't following.
"What are you telling me? That...that this woman isn't my mother? I was born in 1976. Obviously, my mother existed."
"Do you know the most common way of creating an identity?" She hesitated a moment before answering.
"Getting the birth certificate of someone deceased who was born the same year as you were...and take over that identity."
"I found one, a Matthew Brennan. Born and died 1948," he replied, wincing at the look of disbelief on her face as she processed his words. "Do you understand?"
"I don't know what it means. I don't know what any of it means."
"It means your parents weren't…who you thought they were," he explained sadly. "It means that they were living under...assumed identities."
Brennan turned away from him and heaved a sigh of frustration, not knowing how to respond to the information. Booth stepped behind her and slipped an arm around her waist. She stiffened at the contact a little but then relaxed against him slightly, accepting the comfort he was offering. Brennan moved to grasp the hand at her abdomen, stepping away from him and turning around.
"Thank you for telling me. Was there anything else?" she asked, her expression controlled.
"Not yet, Bones."
"Okay. You'll let me know when there is?"
"Of course…" Booth set his jaw and sighed, realizing that she was intentionally pulling back. "I'm sorry, Bones."
"Thank you. I need to get back to work… I'll see you later?"
"Yeah, okay. Call me if you need anything, alright?" She nodded her assent and walked away toward her office. Booth stood there for another few moments, feeling at odds with the situation. He knew that she wanted to be alone, but he wasn't sure where that left him. Booth recalled the previous week, when she had offered the time and space he'd thought he needed in order to cope with his reactions to their case. It hadn't been what she'd wanted, but she had been willing to give him what he'd thought was best in that moment.
He supposed he owed her the same now, no matter how uneasy it made him.
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Angela texted Booth shortly before noon to assure him that she had talked Brennan into eating lunch, and he replied with his thanks. He was still waiting on a few database searches finish up as well as a few phone calls to be returned. When his phone buzzed again not long after lunch, his spirits lifted a little to see Brennan's name on his phone, but he was quickly disheartened by her text.
'Ange won't leave me alone. Taking cab home. See you tonight.'
He sent a quick acknowledgment and weighed his options. The investigation needed more help, and it made sense to Booth that Russ should be included. After all, they had been his parents as well. Booth would do his best to subdue the dislike he felt for the man at least long enough to get the case solved, but first he had to get him to DC.
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Brennan was irritated. She loved Angela a lot, but she'd reached her limit with the constant hovering. So she decided to placate her friend by eating lunch with her...and then she left. Brennan texted Booth quickly to let him know she was leaving, phrasing it strategically to let him know that she wanted some peace, and she was grateful that his reply was a simple 'Okay, love you.'
When she arrived home, she sat down and tried to work on her new book for a while, but the results were poor. Brennan set her laptop aside for the time being and tried to focus on compartmentalizing. It took her a few minutes of reflection to realize that what she was feeling was anger.
She was angry that her mother was dead, even if it was completely irrational because she had always assumed that to be the case. She was angry that so much of the case was murky and confusing. She was angry that she now seemed to have even fewer answers than before and far too many questions.
And the worst of it was her anger that everything she knew about her parents and her childhood appeared to have been a lie. If her parents weren't who they'd claimed to be, then who was she?
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Booth decided to bite the bullet and make a trip to see Russ. His parole officer, Ms. Davis, had given Booth the address of Russ's current job, and he texted Brennan to let her know that he would be a bit late getting home. He would give her as much time and space as she wanted, but there was no way he was voluntarily sleeping anywhere but right next to her that night.
When he arrived at the small seaside carnival, the ticket booth attendant told him where to find Russ, and he overheard the man arguing with his boss as he approached.
"You licensed for this job?" Booth asked from the railing, watching Russ attempt to fix a broken down ferris wheel. Brennan's brother glanced at him briefly and made a quick assessment.
"You're a cop." It was a statement, not a question.
"You know who recognizes cops?"
"Other cops?"
"And crooks. I talked to you a couple of months ago on the phone. I'm Booth." Russ closed the electrical panel on the ride and narrowed his eyes.
"You gonna ask me some more questions about my childhood?" he mocked. Booth didn't answer but held up a photograph of Angela's reconstruction. Russ's expression became grim as he crossed over to the metal fence where Booth stood. "You found my mother?" he asked, taking the photograph from Booth.
"Your sister did the ID."
"What about Dad?"
"No," Booth replied simply. Russ contemplated him for a moment before handing the picture back.
"What do you want?"
"Do you remember being anyone else besides uh...Russ Brennan?" Booth asked casually.
"Nope."
"You wouldn't lie to me, would you Russ?"
"Cops always think I'm lying," Russ replied with forced humor. Booth laughed along with him but was undeceived. He knew full well that the man was lying, but what really intrigued him was the question of why.
"I want you to come back to DC and help out in this investigation."
"I got a job, man."
"You know, the alternative is I just cite you for performing unlicensed repairs on heavy equipment...get your parole revoked," he said lightly. Russ sighed and rolled his eyes in a gesture Booth recognized. "Tell you what. You give me a call when you get into town." He held up a business card and wedged it in the railing.
As he drove back to DC, he found himself remembering Brennan's tendency toward blackmail when it came to negotiation, and he grinned at the thought that she would probably approve of his using a similar tactic to get Russ's help.
When he finally got to her apartment, it was nearly ten, and Booth hoped that she would let him stay. He unlocked the door with his key and slipped inside, surprised to see that the were lights off.
"Booth?" she called from the bedroom.
"Yeah, it's me." She didn't reply, and he assumed that the sound of the front door opening had alarmed her. He kicked his shoes off and tossed his keys in the bowl before heading toward the bedroom. The lamp was on, and she'd been reading. Brennan didn't speak again until he had gotten himself ready for bed and climbed under the blanket next to her.
"I wasn't sure you were coming over," she admitted softly, putting her book on the nightstand. Booth looked at her in surprise, and his forehead creased.
"Is it…okay that I'm here?" he asked nervously.
"Of course," she answered quickly. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"Well...you wanted some time to yourself, and I get that. If that's really what you need, that's fine, Bones. I just didn't know if it applied to our...sleeping arrangements," he explained with a hesitant smile. Brennan returned it and snuggled herself into his arms.
"No, I don't want to sleep alone. Thank you for giving me time today. I'm sorry if hurt your feelings somehow…" Brennan was uncertain how to read his expression. He seemed to be forcing his smiles a little.
"You didn't hurt my feelings, baby. I know that you need time to process everything, and I'm perfectly okay with that. But… don't pull away too much, okay? A sexy genius I know recently told me to let her be there for me. It was good advice." He grinned in relief when she gave him a real smile.
"I love you," she said, leaning in for a kiss. Their lips connected, moving almost lazily against one another for several moments.
"I love you too, Bones." Booth moved his hand in soothing patterns on her back, allowing himself to be comforted by her presence as well. "Do you… do you want to talk about any of it? You look like maybe you've worked some things out today."
"I don't know. I think I'm just angry."
"Angry?" That hadn't been what he'd expected.
"Yes. At my parents, at Russ, at...the whole situation. If my parents were pretending to be other people, then who were they to begin with? You said they were using assumed names…and that means mine is too. I don't even know my real name."
"We'll figure it out, Bones. I swear we will. I'm not giving up, and I know you won't either. But, as far as the name thing…I talked to someone tonight who should be able to help us with that."
She gazed at him in confusion and finally determined what it was in his expression that she'd been unable to identify before. Guilt.
"You're talking about Russ?" she asked. Booth nodded apologetically.
"Yeah, I went to see him. That's where I was. Told him that we needed his help to figure out what really happened," he explained. Brennan chewed her lip subtly.
"Did he agree?"
"He didn't say no… I'm sure we'll hear from him."
She contemplated the advisability of including her brother-who was a felon-in an FBI investigation. They didn't have cause of death yet, but if it turned out to be murder, then her brother's involvement could be problematic.
"Are you upset that I talked to him?" Booth asked, misinterpreting her pensive silence for anger.
"No," she answered, startled out of her thoughts. "I know it's a logical direction for the investigation. Besides myself, he's the only one who knew my parents back then. It makes sense for him to help; I was just hoping that his record doesn't prove problematic if this turns out to be a murder. That's all."
Booth's expression cleared, and he nodded. He'd thought of that too, but it was a risk they had to take. They talked for a little while longer before their exhaustion got the better of them, and they slept dreamlessly in one another's arms.
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On Wednesday morning, Brennan finally felt emotionally stable enough to analyze her mother's remains. Zack had been having a hard time determining cause of death, and she knew that it was wrong to have left him with the burden of doing the analysis on his own.
As she studied the bones of her mother's skull, she couldn't help but remember her face. Brennan was surprised that she hadn't seen it right away when she'd first checked Zack's work with the tissue markers.
"Dr. Brennan?" She stood up quickly, working to maintain her composure, and answered Hodgins. Angela was stepping onto the platform behind him.
"Yes… Did you find anything in the soil?"
"Yeah… This was in the soil samples from your mother's remains," he said, gesturing to a workstation computer screen. He pulled up an image of a faded movie ticket stub.
"A movie ticket?" Brennan asked, narrowing her eyes in confusion.
"Rialto Theater. Nine pm showing of 'The Fugitive.' September 22, 1993," Angela told her calmly.
"Well, how'd it get there?" she asked, nonplussed.
"Either your mother had it in her possession when she was buried, or it was somehow buried with her," Hodgins explained gently.
"Either way it...dates the burial," Angela added.
"No, that's...that's impossible. My mother disappeared in 1991," she insisted. Angela and Hodgins looked at each other uncomfortably.
"Sweetie-"
"It's possible Mom was buried somewhere else for a year and a half, then moved."
"No," Hodgins denied evenly. "That's not possible."
"Maybe it is," Angela said, communicating silently with Hodgins.
"We decided to tell you the truth," he said firmly. "And this is the truth."
Brennan did her best to keep her expression neutral and turned away to resume her examination of the skull. Her mind was screaming a hundred questions that she didn't want to answer at the moment, and she forced herself to focus on the work, flipping the skull upside down in her hands to look at the interior.
"You alright?" Angela asked, moving to stand in front of her on the other side of the table. Brennan avoided the redundant question. Of course I'm not alright, she thought. But when she glimpsed the inside of the skull, her pulse quickened.
"I'm pretty sure I just found cause of death. Zack?"
"Yes, Dr. Brennan."
"See the discoloration on the inside of the skull?" She turned it toward him and handed it over. As Zack aimed his penlight into the skull cavity, Brennan was distracted by the appearance of two men passing through the glass doors. She nearly always noticed when Booth arrived, regardless of what she might be doing, but this time he wasn't alone.
Her mind flashed back for just a moment to happier times, when her brother had been one of her favorite people in the world, someone she could depend on. Though Booth had told her Russ might show up, the warning didn't prepare her for the anger that rose up at the sight of him.
"Dr. Brennan?" Her attention snapped back to her assistant.
"Probably fatal," she concluded, willing her mind to focus.
"There are no indications of a blow to the outer skull."
"Scan the outside of the skull. Look for histological changes, microscopic remodeling." Booth and Russ were climbing the platform, and she rose from her seat to flee. "I don't want to talk to him," she told Booth in a low whisper. Brennan brushed past her brother without looking at him and retreated to her office. She could hear Booth instructing Zack to make sure Russ stayed put, and he caught up with her before she reached her office doorway.
"Bones… come on." She rounded on him, trying her best to maintain control.
"My mother died of a subdural hematoma. Bleeding in the brain."
"You want to proceed rationally, correct?" he asked, choosing words that he knew she understood. Her eyes were glistening as she continued.
"Chances are, the subdural hematoma was caused by a blow to the head."
"Great, you got the how," he said encouragingly. "Now let's get the who." She pursed her lips, and he could see that she was struggling. "You just told me that your mother was murdered. I mean, who better to help us than...than your brother?"
She deliberated, glancing at Russ who still stood on the platform, watching her with a pained expression. She turned and entered her office, Booth on her heels.
"I know you're angry at him, and you have every right to be. I'm angry at him too."
This confused her, and she felt her frustration level rising. There had been nothing but confusion for days, and confusion wasn't something Temperance Brennan as accustomed to.
"Why are you mad at him?"
"Seriously?" he asked, incredulous. "The guy abandoned you, left you on your own with a bunch of strangers, some of whom abused you. I may never forgive him for that. But…he can still help solve the case, Bones. You want answers, and he can help us get them."
Brennan had remained silent during his speech and was a little stunned at his enmity toward her brother. Finally, she nodded, feeling that if Booth could tolerate her brother's presence, then she should at least give it a try.
"Thanks, Bones."
She moved to stand behind her desk as Booth went to get Russ. He didn't return with her brother, however, and she wished that he had. Russ hesitated in the doorway for a moment before entering, and she avoided eye contact for a little while.
He spotted the items from the artifact bag laying on the table and went immediately for the belt.
"Mom did love dolphins," he said ruefully, examining the rusted buckle. "This was mine! My favorite marble," he announced, holding it up to the light. "What was she doing with that?"
"Where did Booth find you?" Brennan asked, keeping her expression guarded.
"It's not hard for an FBI Agent to find a parolee."
"I didn't ask how, I asked where."
"Morehead City, North Carolina." When she didn't reply, he walked slowly toward her desk. "I call every year, on your birthday. You never pick up."
"Take a hint," she replied icily. Russ looked like he wanted to say something else but seemed to change direction at the last minute.
"Can I have this?" he asked, holding up the marble.
"It's evidence," she said, shaking her head.
"Of what? It's a kid's marble."
"It's the rules. I can't let you have it."
Russ pursed his lips and handed it back to her with rueful smile.
"Same old Tempe. Never met a rule worth breaking."
"Same old Russ," she sniped back. "On parole."
He looked chagrined but didn't respond, and a moment later Booth was in the doorway again.
"The family car just arrived, Bones. The techs are getting ready to take it apart." Booth wasn't entirely sure what he'd walked into, but the tension in the room was palpable. Brennan looked up at him and nodded, grateful that he was back and offered a distraction. However, she frowned when she noticed that Russ was following to tag along. Brennan gritted her teeth against the urge to tell him to go back to wherever he came from, but at that precise moment, she felt Booth's hand on the small of her back. He was supporting her wordlessly, as he so often did, and her gratitude for his comfort was immeasurable.
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The silence in the SUV was intensely uncomfortable. They didn't generally have anyone other than Parker in the back seat, unless it was someone they were bringing in for questioning. Before he'd gotten the call about the car, he'd been telling Angela that he intended to send Russ to talk to her and describe someone for her to sketch. Something or someone had clearly spooked Brennan's parents more than once. It had been enough for them to change their identities, and if he had been in their shoes, he would've told his son who to watch out for. Russ had been just a couple of years older than Parker at the time, and Booth hoped that he would remember.
Russ's thoughts were on his sister. Over the years, he had replayed the events of that Christmas in his mind again and again. He understood why she was angry with him, or at least he thought he did. But the truth was that he really had done what he'd thought was best for her at the time. She hadn't spoken to him since-until today. For the longest time, Russ thought that she most likely blamed him for their parents leaving, as though he might have done something to anger them, but he realized now that she was holding something else over him. He just didn't know what it was yet.
He was vaguely curious about her relationship with her FBI partner, but he knew that even an innocent question would earn a disparaging response from his sister. At the very least, they seemed to be extremely close.
The trio arrived at their destination and found a crew of forensic techs beginning to dismantle the Brennans' former vehicle. Booth instructed the techs to treat it like a fresh crime scene. One of the junior agents had left a casefile on a table near the car, and Booth glanced through it, realizing it was the results of the NCIC database search he had requested.
"That's our old car, alright," Russ confirmed as they got nearer to it.
"The name of my school is scraped off. Woodside Elementary," Brennan noted, drawing their attention to a partially shredded bumper sticker declaring her to have been an honor student. No surprise there. "They said they didn't find anything in the car." Booth knew that she was referring to the information in the missing persons file.
"There was a bloodstain. Front seat, passenger side," Booth answered distractedly as he read the file a little more carefully. Shit, he thought. This is bad. Bank robbers? He whistled loudly through his fingers and requested that the surrounding techs give them some privacy. He continued to stare down at the file. Joy. Her name had been Joy.
"Twice in two days," Brennan commented nervously.
"I had the NCIC database checked for a married couple who disappeared in 1978," Booth replied, dreading her reaction to what his guys had uncovered. He handed Brennan the photos and continued, "Meet Max and Ruth Keenan." Brennan took the photos, scowling in confusion.
"That's mom and dad, alright," Russ agreed, looking sideways at the pictures.
"The NCIC database, that's...that's criminals." She shook her head as though not able to believe her own words. "My parents were on the list of federal offenders?"
"How do you like that?" Russ joked. "I guess a criminal nature runs in the family." Brennan's anger flared, and she snatched another photograph from the file in Booth's hands. It was a picture of her at two years old, pretending to drive their car while Russ stood outside the window. She pushed it into her brother's face.
"You were seven years old, Russ. Old enough to remember. What...What is your real name? What is my real name?"
"Bones, it's right here in the file," Booth interrupted gently.
"No! No. I want him to tell me. What is my real name, Russ?" Her eyes were filling with tears as she watched his expression shift to resignation.
"My name was Kyle. Your name was Joy."
Brennan felt her face flush with emotion, and her tears spilled over.
"You are not my brother," she told him, shaking her head before raising a hand to slap him hard across the face.
"Bones…"
"No! He lied about that!" She turned back to Russ. "What else are you lying about? What else are you not telling us?" Brennan stormed off in the direction of the SUV, and Booth followed far enough behind her that she had some space while staying close enough to make sure she didn't try to take off on her own when she was so upset. He didn't make eye contact with Russ.
Booth let her sit in the car alone for a few minutes before he motioned to Russ that they should join her. He wanted to reach over the console and hold her hand, but she had her arms folded tightly across her chest. She wore a devastated expression, and Booth's chest ached to see it. She looked so young when she was emotional like this. Like a little girl who had lost everything, because that's exactly what she had been.
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Max Keenan was hiding out in the parking structure of the Jeffersonian, keeping an eye out for the black sedan that had been staking out his daughter's home and work over the past few weeks. He couldn't seem to nail down a pattern. Peter St. James seemed to show up at various times, remaining in place for various intervals. He never parked in the same place, and he always appeared to be writing something down. Max had felt a sick kind of foreboding when he'd noticed the inconsistent pattern of behavior.
To say that Max was surprised to see his son exit Booth's SUV would be an understatement. He was floored. Russ was supposed to be in North Carolina, working his thankless job and doing his best for his family. Not here.
His mind raced with the possibilities. Under different circumstances, he would've been touched and thrilled to see his children together, but he knew that for the status quo to have changed, there had to have been a catalyst. It didn't take much observation to conclude that this was not a happy reunion by any means. Tempe's expression was a familiar mix of sulkiness and betrayal, and her movements were so stiff that she almost seemed to be in pain.
Russ looked no better, guilt-ridden and angsty. Max was glad that at least he had not lost his knowledge of his children's expressions in the years that had passed. As the three of them walked away from the car, they passed very near to his own, and the sliver of conversation he overheard stunned him even more than Russ's sudden appearance.
"Look, I'm tracking down the agent that was assigned to your parents' case back then, alright? It was a lady named Warner, and I think she's actually in DC now. I'll get a meeting set up for this afternoon if possible, okay?"
Russ merely nodded at Booth's words, and Brennan didn't respond at all. Booth asked if she was alright, but his words faded as they left the garage, and Max lost sight of them.
Special Agent Warner.
Max knew precisely who that was, and he cursed out loud in his exasperation. What the hell were they getting into? If they knew about Warner, then they knew the true names of their family and perhaps why they had gone underground. Max struggled not to panic, recalling all too well the events that had led to their abandoning their identities and extended families in order to protect their family.
He pulled out of the space and left the garage, going through his mental list of contacts he could still trust in the area. He needed information.
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Russ had taken up residence in her office while they waited to hear back from Booth, and Brennan didn't trust herself not to hit him again if she spent too long in his company. He'd been lucky that she'd used an open palm. If she'd used her fist, he'd be in a lot more pain right now. She stood at the railing of the lounge, watching the other scientists go about business on the lower level and doing her best to come to terms with what she'd learned.
Her parents had abandoned her. Even in her own mind, the words sounded wrong. Her parents had loved her, she'd had no reason to believe otherwise, but still...she couldn't wrap her mind around a scenario that would've forced them to simply disappear and leave their teenage children to fend for themselves. She wondered idly if they had thought that Russ would take care of her. If so, they couldn't have been more wrong.
Brennan remembered her shock as she'd watched Russ drive away, leaving her standing next to a social worker who was completely apathetic to her situation. She'd heard the woman talking to her brother, speaking words that had sounded overly rehearsed, and telling him that his little sister deserved a family who could take care of her...that she would be better off in foster care, at least until he could get on his feet. But Russ had never gotten 'on his feet,' and when he'd left her that day, she hadn't ever wanted to see or speak to him again.
She thought of Booth and his endless efforts to watch out for his younger brother, whether Jared deserved the help or not, and Brennan couldn't help but wonder why Russ couldn't have been more like that. She'd needed him. They'd needed each other, really…and he hadn't let her be there for him either. She knew that she'd reacted badly that Christmas, but he'd known her personality. He'd known her better than anyone else, aside from their parents. How could he have just given up on her?
Brennan's thoughts continued to run in circles with no satisfactory resolution, and she was startled when Angela came to stand next to her and said her name.
"You okay, Sweetie?" Brennan stifled her typical 'I'm fine' and tried to give a real answer.
"At first, I thought the worst thing was that they were missing."
"Except 'dead' means no more hope," Angela supplied. Brennan shook her head; she'd lost any semblance of hope quite a while ago.
"My mother was alive for almost two years after they disappeared. She abandoned me." The words tasted bitter in her mouth, and her eyes stung for the hundredth time since Monday morning. She was so tired of crying in front of people.
"You don't know that," Angela encouraged. "Look, you finally got to slap Russ. You've been wanting to do that for years."
Brennan smiled in spite of herself and shook her head affectionately at her friend.
"I worshiped him, you know?" She chuckled a little, remembering her brother at age nineteen. "God he was so cool. Everyone knew I was Russ Brennan's little sister. I wasn't cool or pretty, so being his sister… You know that game Marco Polo?" Angela nodded. "I'd be sitting in class…and I'd hear out the window, 'Marco!' It'd be Russ, checking in on me and letting everyone know that I was his little sister."
"Did you…'Polo?'"
"Yeah, sometimes that'd be the only word I said all day… 'Polo.' And then mom and dad disappeared and Russ took off…" Her smile faded slowly. "Suddenly, no one cared where I was. I miss that. Someone caring where I am all the time."
Angela opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by Booth shouting from the lower level.
"Bones! Bones! You up there? Come on, let's go." He clapped his hands rhythmically. "Chop chop, I found the agent that was assigned to your parents' case." Brennan grinned down at him and realized that she'd misspoken.
"I used to miss that," she corrected herself. Booth most definitely cared where she was all the time. Where she was, if she'd slept, if she'd eaten, if she was happy… He had always cared. He loved her.
And she loved him back.
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Booth, Brennan, and Russ gathered in Booth's office to meet with former Special Agent Warner. The woman was blonde and in her fifties with a sweet, maternal sort of quality, and she seemed fairly surprised to have been contacted and called in to the FBI for this type of meeting. She explained that she had been the FBI liaison on a bank robbery task force, working out of Cincinnati in the mid- to late seventies with several other agencies collaborating. They had been after a group of armed robbers working Ohio, Kentucky, and Iowa.
"You know, excuse me… Am I to understand that I'm addressing the family of one of these robbers?" she asked incredulously. This was certainly a first.
"Max and Ruth Keenan's children," Booth replied. Ms. Warner's relaxed into a complacent expression.
"Max and Ruth… Yeah, they never really belonged in that crew."
"Why?" Brennan asked.
"They worked smart. Specialized in safety deposit boxes. No guns. They'd either con their way in or case out the place. Break back in on the weekend. Took their time. We never got a handle on the size of their scores."
"Why?" This time it was Russ who spoke up.
"Well, people keep jewelry and cash in safety deposit boxes," she explained.
"And a lot of stuff they don't want to report stolen," Booth added. Brennan continued to scowl as the woman went on.
"None of us understood why stand-up criminals like Max and Ruth would join the Midwest Strong Arm crew. Links to white supremacists, real dedication to firearms and violence…" At the words 'stand-up criminals,' Brennan had felt an odd sensation as if the air had been pushed forcibly out of her lungs. "A job in Dayton went really bad. Two innocent bystanders were killed, one state trooper. Seven wounded."
"When as that?" Booth asked.
"July 4th, 1978."
"Never caught them?" Russ prompted.
"Not us, no. A few years later, one of them turned state's evidence for an FBI Agent out of Louisville. Sent the rest to jail. My understanding is they're all dead."
"Our parents were bank robbers...who morphed into a high school science teacher and a bookkeeper?" Russ said disbelievingly. Brennan had to agree with his incredulity. It didn't seem possible.
"Their particular brand of safety deposit break-ins stopped. At the time, I figured the Strong Arm crew killed them for their cut," Ms. Warner replied.
They were interrupted then by one of the techs who had been processing the car, and their collective attention was diverted.
"Agent Booth, we found blood in the car."
"Well, we expected that," he answered tersely.
"Yeah, but here's the wrinkle: we got blood from two separate individuals."
"Send the results to the Jeffersonian, attention of Dr. Jack Hodgins." As the analyst departed, Booth redirected his attention to Ms. Warner. "I really appreciate you coming by, ma'am. Is it alright to call you if we have any further questions?"
"Of course. It was nice to have met you all," she told them. She stood and shook everyone's hands before leaving the room. Booth gazed at Brennan in concern, for once not able to read her expression. Usually her feelings were practically written on her face, at least as far as he was concerned anyway. It troubled him that he couldn't tell what was going on in her head at that moment.
"Listen, Bones… Let's grab a late lunch before I take you back to the lab, okay? We can pick up something from Sid's or the diner… I know you didn't eat yet."
Russ narrowed his eyes speculatively at Booth's words and watched his sister's reaction. She merely nodded and rose from her seat. He thought it odd that the agent had sounded like he was coaxing her into eating a meal, and didn't understand the look of relief that appeared on the man's face when she conceded either. He couldn't remember his sister ever refusing to eat, but perhaps that was a newer development.
Booth asked Russ what he liked and decided that diner food was probably the more logical choice. Once they'd picked up their meals, he drove them back to the lab and ate with them in the lounge. They were finishing up when Hodgins called them down to the platform to show them the DNA results that the Bureau had sent over.
The results showed that there were indeed two DNA charts from blood in the car. One of them belonged to Christine Brennan, and the other was an unknown male-definitely not their father. Booth told them that they would run the sample through CODIS and the Convicted Offender Index to see if a match could be found.
Angela called Russ into her office then, and Brennan watched him go, feeling a little bewildered at why her friend would want to speak to her brother.
"She's going to do a sketch off his description of someone he might remember from when he was a kid."
"Who?"
"I don't know, but… Your parents, they had a good reason to go into hiding, to completely change their lifestyles. I think Russ might remember someone who had spooked them, maybe threatened them. If I was in fear for Parker's life and yours, to the point that I thought it was necessary to hide, the first thing I'd do is make sure my son knew what the enemy looked like."
Brennan was taken aback by his logic, not expecting him to be comparing himself to her parents. She didn't like it, and she pulled him into her office quickly, shutting the door behind them.
"You're nothing like my parents. Don't compare yourself to them. Please."
Booth wasn't sure why her words were so resolved, but he nodded reassuringly.
"Okay, Bones."
She nodded her thanks at his simple acknowledgment and glanced back toward her office windows for a moment. Booth raised his brows a little as she began to close the blinds, and he moved to help her with the last one.
"Can we just sit for a while? Do you need to be back at your office yet, or…?"
"No, I can stay, Bones." He led her to the couch and pulled her onto his lap again. They sat quietly, simply enjoying the relief they felt to be holding each other, and after a little while, she spoke again.
"They abandoned us," she said brokenly. "I can't rationalize it… It doesn't make sense."
Booth hugged her tighter to his chest and threaded his fingers through her hair soothingly. She closed her eyes in appreciation.
"We will find out, Bones. We'll figure out what happened and why. There's a story we don't know yet. You'll have your answers."
Brennan resisted her usual urge to contradict him with a dose of logic, realizing that she believed what he'd said. She trusted him not to give up on helping her get answers, no matter how long it took.
"Thank you."
"It's nothing, Bones. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I can't think of anything that I wouldn't do for you." Brennan smiled into his shoulder, realizing that the same was true for her as well. All she wanted was for him to be happy and to be able to share his happiness with her.
They held each other for nearly an hour, and Brennan had been silent and still for so long that Booth thought she might've fallen asleep when his phone rang. She sat up immediately, looking perfectly alert and moved to sit next to him so that he could answer his call.
It was one of his junior agents checking in with an update, and he regretfully told Brennan that he needed to go back to the Hoover for a little while before people began to leave for the day. She assured him that it was perfectly fine, and they exchanged their I Love Yous before he left.
She watched him go with a half smile, thinking again how very lucky she was to have found him.
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Brennan laid awake for hours that night, alternating between watching the clock and watching Booth. Her mind refused to slow down, and around two in the morning, she finally gave up on the idea of sleep. She slipped carefully out of Booth's arms, redressed, left him a note, and drove to the lab.
It had been months since she'd been at work this late. In fact, she thought the last time had probably been Christmas: the night before she and Booth had made their romantic relationship official. Ever since then, he'd been making sure that she slept in a bed-usually with him.
When she arrived at the Jeffersonian, she was surprised to see that all of the lights were still on, and music was playing in Zack's office. She peeked through the doorway, intrigued, and sure enough, her assistant was perched on a stool in front of his computer.
"Dr. Brennan. Is it morning?" he asked when he spotted her.
"No, I couldn't sleep. Why are you still here?"
"We're all here," he replied. "No one's leaving until we figure out what happened to your mother."
"Thank you," she said softly, feeling her eyes tear up yet again.
"Don't thank me. I'm failing." Zack explained that he had gone over the skull in excruciatingly fine detail but had been unable to find any sign of remodeling. Brennan suggested that they look at the skull directly above the center of the hematoma under high magnification. At five hundred times, microscopic fractures of the osteons became visible, and Zack posited that he could map the fractured osteons to determine a weapon.
As he elaborated on his process, Brennan thought back to another woman whose death had also been caused by delayed brain trauma due to a subdural hematoma. Maria Duarte had walked away from the accident that had eventually sealed her demise, and she had refused medical treatment out of fear. Had the same been true for her mother? Booth was correct that there was indeed a story they didn't know yet. What would she have been afraid of?
Brennan stayed to help Zack get a decent start on the mapping, but after an hour or so, she realized that her fatigue was finally catching up with her. She retreated to her office couch and fell asleep in minutes, feeling reassured that the bones would help to tell the story. Like always.
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Let me know what you think and have a great weekend! :)