The ground protested underneath Booth's shoes as he crunched his path through the woods. He shivered through the light jacket he'd slipped over his shoulders before he'd stepped out the cabin door. It'd been some time ago since he'd wandered off the beaten path and down onto his own. Now as the sun was beginning to go down he was regretting his decision. In the fading light everything around him looked all the same. His sniper instincts had blinders on. He stopped abruptly and turned in a circle.
It'd been hours since he'd left Brennan behind at the cabin. He wondered how she was coping since he'd left. Had she noticed yet? Did she realize he was coming back? He hadn't left a note. He'd felt it had been better to get out as quickly as he could to give her some obvious much needed space. Brennan, from what he was seeing, was at the end of her rope. And it was all because of him.
Her words floated around his heart like a toxic poison. He felt guilty, and ashamed. Everything Brennan had said had, unfortunately, been right on. Booth hadn't really been trying. Not the way he should have been. Yes, he'd been telling Brennan all the memories and nightmares that had come to his waking conscious. But he hadn't allowed himself to feel it while he'd been talking to her. It was like his mind left his body, putting him in a trance where nothing touched him. He had to imagine it was his mind's way of protecting himself from the intense trauma he'd been put through. Obviously he wasn't ready to deal with it. The idea of giving up control to his memories was still a frightening concept, and one he backed away from entirely. Without having worked through his hopelessness he didn't think he was ready to move on to the next level.
Hurting himself was a good distraction. He'd discovered it on accident, when he'd been walking outside. He'd slipped and scraped himself badly as he'd collided with the ground. The shot of adrenaline and pain had erased the emotional pain he had been feeling in that moment of time. When days later he'd been taking a walk and found a broken piece of glass down near one of the many small lakes in the woods, it seemed like a sign. Whenever he felt himself slip into a place he didn't want to be in he took to abusing himself. He hadn't ever intended for Brennan to see it. Knowing how much it affected her disturbed him all the more. Maybe she would be better off if he were gone. Maybe it would have been better if I'd never been found at all.
He sighed. Thinking along these lines yet again didn't help him get back to the cabin. Time was running out as it was getting darker and colder by the minute. But the woods had camouflaged the way he'd came. His thoughts had been so deep as he'd been walking around that he hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention as to where he'd been going. You were a sniper. You found your way through jungles in countries no one has ever even heard of. This is nothing. But that was another time. And he'd been a different person. With no other choice he picked a random direction.
An hour later he still was no closer to where he had started. The temperature in the air was sinking lower and lower. Booth's shivering got worse the darker the sky got. His jacket was proving to be useless. In the air his breath misted in small puffs. What was he going to do to get back? He had no cell phone; no way to call for help. He had no idea how deep in the woods he'd gone.
This is bad, he thought, stopping and staring up at the sky.
To be sure Booth was indeed gone, Brennan emerged out from underneath the covers. She pulled the comforter off her bed and around herself to keep himself warm against the cool that had crept in. From room to room she slunk around looking for him. Each space turned up nothing. Was he hiding in his special spot? Did she need to find him? She panicked, worrying suddenly that he was in trouble. Back in the bedroom she shed her blanket and changed into jeans and a sweat shirt.
Booth's hide out had to be outside. There was no crook or nanny inside that she hadn't checked when he'd first begun to disappear. Before heading out the door she grabbed a flash light. Then she took herself out to scavenge the area. Back and forth she used the beam to light the ground all around her while she called his name. Only crickets answered her.
She'd rounded the house twice before the flash light caught on an square indent in the side of the cabin. It was medium size, with enough room for a grown man to fit through with some wiggle room. Brennan dropped down to one knee. She set the flash light onto the ground. Into the small crack she managed to squeeze her fingers in. After a few good tugs the door opened right up. Inside was definitely Booth's lair. A stair led down into a pit that ran underneath the cabin. Carefully Brennan moved down inside. She crouched on the ground, aiming her flash light at the environment around her.
It was easy to see now how Booth spent hours down there. He had a sleeping bag he must have rummaged up from somewhere. Along with it he'd taken a pillow from their bedroom. Brennan was mad at herself for not noticing sooner.
Beyond that she found a broken piece of glass, most likely to be from a beer bottle, she determined, next to his sleeping bag. That seemed to be his instrument of choice. The possibility of disease and infection was something she hadn't even thought about. When she found him she'd have to take a closer inspection of his wounds. In the mean time she pocked the glass, being extra careful not to cut herself. Somewhere she'd find a place to hide it away from him.
From there, there wasn't much else to see. She crawled back out into the night. So if Booth wasn't in the cabin, and he wasn't in his own space, where was he? Her eyes were drawn out into the woods. It'd been hours since he'd left. Had he set off on his own? Was it another suicide mission? She inhaled sharply at the thought. No. She didn't know why, but she just didn't think that was his intention.
Either Booth was lost, or he was in danger. Regardless of which ever, he needed to be found. Temperatures at night were known to drop down into the teens. Already she could feel the atmosphere changing yet again. And so Brennan went inside, pulled on a coat, hat, and gloves, and set out to find him.
Booth was sitting up with his back against a tree. Mere minutes ago he'd collapsed onto the ground. He was so cold he could hardly think straight. The mild shaking had become so severe he could hardly see straight. The tips of his fingers were bluish in color. He knew he was in trouble, but he was too disoriented to see his way out. His breaths were deep and quick. It felt like the bitter cold was enabling him from being able to pull oxygen into his lungs. His eyes closed in a wince.
Look at you. You're just as pathetic as you ever were.
Booth opened his eyes. There Amanda squatted right before him.
I'm pathetic? He shot back. I shot you. Killed you. You never even saw it coming.
Her smile was crooked. You may have won in the end, but I obviously won over all. You're still letting me control you. How does it feel, Booth? Being a victim? Knowing I took everything away from you? I made you less of a man.
"Screw you," he bit out loud through clenched teeth.
She laughed. You know what? You haven't won. Because the power you give me will ultimately kill you in the end. I won't stop until you've taken your own life. I may be dead but I'm still torturing you from beyond. I'll drive you stark raving mad. I'll make you so difficult that no one will want to deal with you, not even your precious Bones.
"You're wrong," he murmured, his words losing strength. The confusion was worsening. Where was he? How had he gotten here?
She doesn't love you. It's all an act. She'll hurt you just like I did.
"Wrong." He slurred. "She doesn't… she won't…" In the distance he could hear someone hollering for him. It didn't hit any recognition in his brain.
She already has. It's because of her you're out here.
"Didn't… mean…"
Just give up. You'll be doing everyone a favor.
Even in his confusion the words hit a nerve. "No!" He growled. "Can't… let… you win…"
I'll be waiting.
"Have… to fight…"
"Booth?"
He was delirious. "I have to… I have to…"
Brennan was relived to find him. "Booth!" She got down onto her knees besides him. "Booth?" She ran her fingers over his cheek. His skin was shockingly cold. Hypothermia. "Booth, we have to get you back."
"She can't…"
Brennan wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Who can't?"
"She's winning… I can't… let her."
Though Brennan was thrilled to hear those words, now wasn't the time. She had to get him back to the cabin to get warmed up. "No, you can't. But right now we need to get you back."
"I can't…"
She smoothed her fingers over his cheek again. "You have to help me, Booth."
He cracked open his eyes and looked at her. The look in them told her all she needed to know. He was in jeopardy.
"Don't let her win."
Stiffly he pulled one leg under him. Then the other. Together they stood. She pulled him against her, doing her best to support him. And together they headed back for the cabin.
