A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 36
Disclaimer: Santa only left me the first season DVDs, not the rights to these lovely characters.
Author's notes: Some of you have left reviews expressing concern that I won't finish this story. Please don't worry about that—I promise to see this through to the end. The problem has been finding time to sit down and write between work, which has been truly, truly horrible lately. The other problem is that I seemed to have lost my confidence in writing this particular story. I'm slowly working to regain that confidence… So, it may take awhile between updates but I will not leave you hanging without an ending. Thanks for your patience and as always thank you for reading and reviewing.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The sheets on the bed shifted slightly as Brennan stirred and rolled away from Booth's embrace. He frowned as he propped himself up on one elbow and leaned forward to study her face, gently stroking her hair in the process. Her eyes, puffy from crying, were closed and he noticed movement behind her eyelids indicating REM sleep. The anguish of the last two days was prominently displayed on her pale face. Even in her sleep she couldn't seem to escape her most recent emotional upheaval coupled with the loss she'd suffered years before as a teenager.
He continued to stroke her hair and watch her as he remembered her breakdown just a few short hours ago. Brennan had clung to him, sobbing, unable to speak for a few minutes before exhaustion overtook her and her knees had buckled. Booth had lifted her into his arms and taken her to her bedroom, depositing her on the bed before taking his place beside her. There had been no further discussions or arguments as he watched her pain and fatigue overwhelm her system and she drifted into a fitful slumber.
Booth slowly moved away from her and stood, stretching slightly. He ran his hands over his face before walking to the bathroom. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he shook his head. No one could argue like he looked like hell with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and a full day's growth of stubble on his face. Quickly discarding his clothes, Booth stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to relax his tense body. Even as the water beat down on him, he knew the tranquil moment was temporary.
After his shower, Booth dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. He quietly entered the bedroom and saw that Brennan had shifted once again in her sleep. Retrieving a pair of jeans, boxers and a tee shirt from his wardrobe, he quickly dressed and left her alone so he could make a few phone calls.
He padded into the living room in his bare feet and picked up the cordless phone, dialing Cullen's number first. The agent's steadfast belief that Max Keenan would not survive very long after his plane touched down in Chicago prioritized his calling list. He intended to do everything in his power to prolong the felon's life for as long as possible.
"Sir, it's Booth. I wanted to discuss the possibility of keeping Max Keenan in DC in our custody…"
Cullen sighed on the other end of the line. "Booth, I've been working on that. For now Keenan and Agent Roth are still in DC. Their flight to Chicago has been delayed; seems there was a threat of a security breach at the airport…"
"Threat of a security breach? Sir…"
"The fewer questions you ask at this point Agent Booth, the better." The deputy director sighed once again, his voice laced with exhaustion. "I know you are concerned for Mr. Keenan's welfare and I agree with that concern. I'm doing everything in my power to have him placed in protective custody here in DC in a secure location."
Booth released a long breath and scratched his stubble covered chin. "Thank you sir. If you would call and let me know either way…"
"Of course, Booth." After a brief pause he continued. "How is Dr. Brennan holding up?"
"She's resting at the moment." He cleared his throat and walked to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. "As I said, sir, if you would please notify me when a decision has been made regarding Max Keenan…" Booth had no intention of discussing his girlfriend's current mental state with anyone, least of all his boss.
"Yeah, sure. Call if you need anything else Booth."
He disconnected the line before opening his bottled water. Max Keenan may be a thief, a liar, and hell, maybe even a murderer but he was still Brennan's father and Booth intended to ensure his safety for her sake. He honestly didn't believe she could withstand losing her father yet again.
His next phone call was to Angela. Her cell phone rang several times before she finally answered.
"Hello?" she mumbled, obviously groggy from sleep.
"Hey Angela, sorry to wake you. Is Russ still there with you and Hodgins?"
She yawned as she sat up on the couch in the study of Hodgins' mansion where she had fallen asleep. Her intention of taking a short nap had evolved into three hours of slumber that left her feeling even more tired. "Yeah, he's here. We convinced him to get some rest before he tried to drive up to Chicago…"
"Don't let him go anywhere," Booth ordered firmly. "Not back home to North Carolina or to Chicago."
"Booth, he's concerned about his father…"
"So am I. That's why Cullen's working to get him put in protective custody here in DC." He took a sip of water before continuing. "Just keep Russ there okay? I need to make sure that he's not in any danger before he goes home."
"And that he and Brennan have a chance to talk things out, right?" Angela smiled slightly, hopeful that her best friend would be receptive to reconciling with her sibling a second time. "How is she? Did you ever get her to talk to you?"
"She's asleep right now," he answered, followed by a heavy sigh. "As for talking to me…it was more of an argument; one that I started."
"Booth," she admonished the agent gently.
"It was the only way Ange," he replied even as he silently berated himself again for calling Brennan 'cold and unfeeling'. The hurt expression on her face in that moment would be forever burned in his memory. Although his strategy had worked, Booth was uncertain of the ramifications some of his words would have on their relationship.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Brennan slowly turned over and reached out to find the other side of the bed empty. Her eyelids, heavy with fatigue and slightly swollen from crying, gradually opened so she could take in her semi-dark bedroom. The light of the late afternoon sun streamed through the wispy curtains, casting elongated shadows on the walls.
The events of the last two days played through her mind at a rapid pace and she suddenly felt the panic swelling through her system. Her father's 'death', her argument with Russ and then her argument with Booth played in a continuous loop as her body unwillingly succumbed to the anxiety.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Brennan fought to control the attack by focusing on her breathing only to find that the handy little exercises weren't working this time. Her body felt heavy as she tried to move across the bed to find the prescription she had cast aside just a few days ago. Near the brink of hyperventilation, accompanied by a wave of vertigo, she managed to reach the nightstand beside the bed and send her alarm clock flying in her quest to find her medication.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Booth ended his conversation with Angela and placed the phone on the kitchen counter. She had promised, several times at Booth's insistence, to stall Russ and keep an eye on him until Booth found out whether Max would remain in DC. He hoped Brennan would take the opportunity to speak with her brother before their rift went any further. Hell, he hoped she would still speak to him.
Running his hand through his damp hair, Booth exhaled a long breath to relieve some of the frustration he felt building in his system. Just as he began contemplating how to broach the subject of Max with Brennan, he heard a loud crash in the bedroom.
"Bones," he whispered before he rushed down the hall and into the bedroom. He found her attempting to sit up on the bed, reaching for the small prescription bottle that was just out of her grasp.
Booth quickly moved around the bed, ignoring the pieces of the broken alarm clock that prodded his bare feet, and grabbed the bottle. He opened it and placed a tablet in Brennan's hand before he realized that he didn't have anything for her to drink. As he began to walk away to get her a glass of water, Brennan grabbed his hand.
"Don't go," she whispered.
"I just need to get you…"
She shook her head as she continued to concentrate on her breathing. The panic was gradually subsiding as Brennan clenched the small tablet in her right hand and held on to Booth with her left.
He took a seat beside her on the bed and waited out the attack with her. Between her lack of sleep and the incident with her father, Booth was not surprised by the sudden onslaught of anxiety.
Brennan's breathing slowly returned to normal and the vertigo had diminished significantly. She didn't release her grasp on the medication or Booth as she glanced down at the floor.
"I guess you'll need a new alarm clock," Booth joked as he put his arm around her and pulled her close.
"Your foot is bleeding," she commented in a soft shaky voice. She noticed a small trickle of blood on the inside of his left foot where he had apparently stepped on a piece of sharp plastic.
"It's nothing. You okay Bones?" He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder.
She nodded mutely watching a small drop of blood fall from his foot onto the floor. "You should clean that," she whispered.
He smiled slightly before placing another kiss on top of her head. "I'll be right back. Lie down and try to rest."
Booth carefully maneuvered his way over the shards of plastic to the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet for a small bandage to place on his foot. As he sat down on the edge of the bathtub and tended to the miniscule cut, Brennan slowly made her way to the bathroom door and leaned heavily against the door jamb, watching him.
"Bones…"
"He can't go back to Chicago Booth." Her voice only hinted at her exhaustion but her tone was firm and he shook his head at her stubbornness. "The syndicate…Piazza…they'll kill him."
"I know, Temperance. Cullen's working on it; for now your father is still in DC." She cast him an inquisitive glance, prompting him to further explain his comment. "There's been a threat of a security breach at the airport so flights have been delayed. Cullen said he would contact me later."
She nodded as she stared at the small bandage on his foot with unfocused eyes. Her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.
Booth cleared his throat as he stood and walked toward her. "Russ is still at Hodgins' place…just so you know."
Tired blue eyes met his concerned sable gaze as he smiled at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on the side of her face as he continued to stare at her.
"Subtle, Booth," she said softly.
He chuckled as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I'm just imparting information to you so that you can make an informed decision later, after you've rested."
"You're mocking me, aren't you?"
"Just a little bit," he admitted.
She lowered her gaze to the floor and released a long, slow breath. "I can rest later. There are certain matters I need to attend to…before it's too late."
He watched her move slowly past him into the bathroom so she could shower and change. "That's my girl," he whispered.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The airport was more crowded than usual thanks to the flight delays and the boost in security measures. Angry mobs of people surrounded Max Keenan and Agent Roth on all sides. Some were mumbling their outrage at being stranded for an undetermined amount of time while others were much more vocal, creating a disturbance.
Agent Roth appeared slightly flustered by the disturbances which amused Max greatly. They had sent a fresh faced newbie to escort him—a felon who had been on the run for years—back to Chicago to face numerous charges. Max shook his head slightly at the thought that it was his own daughter who had managed to lead the FBI straight to him. He was proud of her even if he was currently sitting in his own personal Hell wearing handcuffs that were way too tight on his wrists.
"You think you could loosen these a little?" He held up his hands as he looked at the young agent. "They're cutting off my circulation, kid."
"I'm not a kid," Agent Roth huffed as he folded the newspaper he was holding. "And no, Mr. Keenan, I cannot loosen those handcuffs. You're a con man, a thief and in my opinion, a murderer. I'm not falling for any of your little tricks…"
"Tricks?" he asked with a chuckle. "In case you haven't noticed, we're in a crowded airport with so much security that the President couldn't get through here. But fine, fine, I'll just suffer through the pain."
"Yeah, well…you're gonna have to cause I'm not altering those cuffs for any reason."
Max leaned back and adjusted the handcuffs as much as he could to alleviate some of the pain he felt. As he glanced across the crowded terminal he spotted a little girl with dark hair and big blue eyes who appeared to be about three years old pulling at her father's arm. The father smiled and leaned forward, scooping the child up into his arms causing her to giggle.
Max smiled sadly at the sight. Temperance had followed him around when she was that age, asking dozens upon dozens of questions about anything and everything. Now, she could barely stand to look at him and she had refused to speak to him before Agent Roth had taken him into custody. He would give anything to have his daughter, his little girl, look at him with the same love and admiration she once had.
He raised his hands again to wipe his damp forehead. It was hot in the airport and the massive amount of people mulling around the terminal didn't help. Agent Roth noticed the other man's movement and stared at him with concern.
"Mr. Keenan, are you okay? You look awfully pale…"
"I'll admit I've felt better kid." He wiped his forehead again and pushed damp stands of hair to the side.
"Do you need some water?" The agent glanced around trying to locate the nearest area where he could purchase a bottle of water for his prisoner.
Max unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling it back and forth in an effort to fan himself. "Yeah, water would be good…"
Those were the last words Max uttered as he slumped forward in his seat and fell to the floor.
Author's notes: I know, I know…why did I end it there? Because I'm evil. Now some of you are wondering why Brennan and Booth didn't discuss the argument they had. Well, they will…don't worry. This simply means that there are a couple of more chapters left than I originally had planned. All will be explained, discussed and dealt with in due time. But while you're waiting feel free to press the little button at the bottom and tell me what you think…you know, if you feel like it.