hey guys!

thankyou so much for your favs/reviews/follows for last chapter - your support means the world to me, even when i can't post chapters! two weeks of school was pretty hectic so i apologise for not getting this up sooner!

happy reading! x

DISCLAIMER: this chapter features edited text/dialogue from "The Hole in the Heart" - I do not own it, all rights belong to Hart Hanson and Fox. I mean, please - if these guys DID belong to me, I would've have shown you guys Booth and Brennan doing the deed that episode. Duhh - no brainer! ;)

36. Safe House

Thud.

First Brennan looked down at the FBI black

duffel bag feet before her, then up to the agent whom had delivered it.

"Everything you asked for was in the bag; Dr Saroyan was very thorough," he told her.

"You went through my bag?" Brennan's tone was breathless with indignation; ever since they had arrived at the safe house four days ago, Brennan could hardly go from one end the house to the other without supervision.

Thank God I'm allowed to use the bathroom in private, she thought dryly. Could be worse.

Put his hands up defensively. "Standard procedure."

"But Clint - it's Cam. Friend, colleague, Cam. She would never do anything to hurt me," Brennan argued.

He shrugged.

Clint Morsell had been the CIA agent that had driven her to the safe house four days earlier, and ever since, he seemed to be the only person that she was able to talk to. He was solid man, with olive skin, short black hair, and a set of white teeth that were so bright, they bordered on incandescent. He bore a pair of honest, green eyes, and his demeanour was warm, and receiving. Though he wasn't a Calvin Klein model, from what Brennan knew of him, he was a nice man - a handsome man, in his own way - and she knew that she had struck it lucky in the baby-sitter department. For that, she was extremely grateful.

Brennan returned the favour with a soft smile of her own. She placed the book she had been reading on the coffee table beside her, and stood, picking up the bag as she did. "Is there any word from back home?" She asked hopefully, slinging the duffel over her shoulder.

Clint reached for the book she had read, and studied the cover intently. "The Hare with Amber Eyes?"

Brennan shrugged. "It was on the shelf."

"Did you manage to get it, or was it a bit heavy?"

Brennan sighed, and leant against the arm of the chair. "I think I've read the first sentence one hundred times over in the past hour. It's a fantastic book," she said, "but my mind is really…elsewhere." She waited a moment, and when he made no move to answer her primary question, she asked it again.

The agent let out a long breath. "Agent Booth is back at work-"

"He's what-?"

Clint grabbed her arm, but didn't squeeze it. "Don't worry; there's an agent from the CIA acting in as a bodyguard for him, though she's covering as a 'Fed'."

Brennan frowned in disbelief. "How did the FBI allow that? You've hated each other for as long as both companies go back-"

"Jacob Broadsky poses a threat to National Security, now. Any member of the government is in trouble, and I doubt they would object, when they could easily be held responsible if something happened to any one of them."

Brennan sat down again. "I just don't understand."

"You don't have to. Agent Rogers is only stepping in until this whole thing blows over. It's too dangerous for him to just have friends 'looking out for him'. And the FBI understands that they can only go so far, before it becomes too much for a few feds."

"You're not bothered about it?"

"I'm part of the CIA. So if they're peeved about it, they don't crack the shits in front of me." Clint ran a hand through his hair. "To put it most simply? We're about the military and the government; if they're under threat or the civilian population is, you'll generally find a CIA agent not too far from the scene."

Brennan nodded comprehensively. "That's logical enough. But if Booth and I are in such danger, then why not bring us both into hiding?"

Clint paused a moment, trying to arrange the correct way to deliver his words. "We almost considered Witness Protection for you both, but then recalled a case - not so long ago - when Broadsky hunted down, and killed a man on Witness Protection. We probably would have been putting you in more danger, if we had chosen for you to do so, because in a system like that, you're restricted. You can only hide and operate as you're told to. The results of an arrangement like that could have been catastrophic."

"And Booth isn't here with me now because…?"

"We need him to find Broadsky. He believes that he is doing all the work to track him down to have the face-off himself, but in reality, they're just letting him work, to keep him sated."

Brennan gasped in angry surprise, a sickening wave of worry overcoming her. "You're using him as bait! That's cruel!"

"It isn't," Clint disagreed calmly. "Booth was discharged from the hospital the day after you left because he couldn't stand doing 'nothing'. This way, he thinks that he's doing something to lead him to the final stand-off, when really it will be a SWAT Team that does the job. He'll be safe." Clint picked up a homeware magazine lying on the nearest coffee table. "Isn't that what you wanted, Dr Brennan?" He reminded her, nonchalantly flicking the pages. "For him to be safe?"

She huffed, and fingered the stitches on her forearm. "His safety is more important than his pride; he would want to be the one to take Broadsky down," she admitted aloud, smiling at his stubbornness. The expression fell. "But he's just so…"

"Proud?"

"He doesn't like asking for help," she answered slowly, eyes wary. "He likes doing things on his own, and he'd hate for anyone to think that he was proud; that, is apparently reserved for the upper-end of society - for the rich and snobby."

"But he is proud, in his own way? Too proud to ask for help?"

Brennan laughed softly. "Yes, he is. I wouldn't mind living in a place like this," she told Clint, motioning to the elaborate, expensively furnished living room. "But he would hate it."

"But surely you must earn a lot for you novels…" Clint drifted off when he read the guarded expression Brennan wore. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask about money," he amended.

She shrugged. "It's a no-brainer, really. I'm very well off, but I'm not the wealthiest there is…," she drifted off, blushing for her frankness. "I suppose that's as nicely as I could have put it, I'm sorry."

Clint smiled. "It's okay. Would you like something to eat?"

"I haven't had breakfast," she admitted.

"Eggs and Bacon?"

Brennan's stomach growled, and her mouth watered. "Sounds wonderful."

- ~ B&B ~ -

"You're a vegetarian?" Clint wiped his mouth with a napkin, and smirked. "But you just ate bacon. Why?"

Brennan pondered a moment, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. Decided she had nothing to lose. "I'm pregnant," she said softly. "And for a little while now, all I've wanted to eat is meat - even though I originally went off it, because it was supposed to be healthier…"

"You're pregnant?" Clint grinned.

"Yeah," Brennan breathed. "Yet…I'm surprised you didn't know about that, given that you're…you?"

"I don't even think the Bureau knows."

"Surely Booth told them."

Clint shook his head.

Brennan leant back in her chair. "Well I guess not, then. But I shouldn't be too surprised; I've only known for about a week."

"Well, congratulations." Clint lifted his glass of orange juice, and clinked it against hers.

"Thank you," Brennan replied, and after a moment of silence continued. "Are you married?"

Clint smiled, and shook his head.

"Girlfriend?" Brennan probed.

Clint eye's flittered towards the window. "She died in a car accident four years ago."

"I'm so sorry," Brennan sympathised. "Have you…just never gotten over her, or…?"

The agent directed his gaze back at Brennan. "I'm ready again, but of course with my job, it means I'm limited on how often I can be home, and a girl wants someone she can rely on. Start a family with" - he winked at Brennan - "if that's what she wants. And for the moment, I can't offer any of those things."

Brennan reached for his hand. "Yes you can. I thought I couldn't, but look at me! Dr Antarctica - and not only did I find someone who could stand to be around me, and love me, but now I'm carrying his child. How's that; three for the price of one?" She winked. "But love changes people, Clint; I can tell you that from experience."

Clint laughed. "I'll take your word for it. Pity you're taken, though," he chuckled.

Brennan grabbed her cheeks, and squashed her face. "I bet you wouldn't say that now," she muttered through her compressed cheeks and mouth.

Clint vibrated with silent laughter. "I don't know, I think I'd take you out on a date if I could, Picasso."

Brennan's hands dropped. "I'm not Picasso," she corrected him with a furrowed brow.

"Joke, Dr Brennan. It was a joke; you know, how all of Picasso's works a faces that are out of proportion-"

"Oh, I get it!"

Clint rested his head on the table, rumbling with chuckles again.

"You should really stop laughing," Brennan prescribed. "You might need to use the bathroom in a minute."

He looked up at her. "I'm supposed to be the responsible adult, here."

"Clearly." Brennan stood, and went to grab their plates.

"No," Clint halted her. "I got it."

She didn't object. "Is it all right if I have a nap? I'm feeling a little warn out."

"You don't have to ask me when you can and can't sleep, Dr Brennan," Clint called from the kitchen sink.

Brennan smiled, and went to start for the hallway, but she stopped, and looked over her shoulder. "Don't call me Dr Brennan," she requested. "Call me Tempe."

"Sleep well, Tempe."

- ~ B&B ~ -

Booth gripped the sides of his head with both hands. Though the action sent a searing fire up his injured forearm, he ignored the pain, and focussed on the document before his eyes.

Paula Ashwaldt.

Broadsky's lover - who had committed suicide not long after the Walter Crane murder case. She had been buried in the local cemetery, and her parents had placed flowers again that morning. Now, an hour since, there had been a second bouquet laid.

And Booth had no doubt whom by.

"Knock, knock," Sophia's smooth voice came from the doorway.

"My coffee?" Booth asked, minimising the screen, and rising from his seat.

Sophia dropped her stack of files heavily on his desk. "I'm an agent, Agent Booth. Not your servant."

He shrugged. "Assistant is probably a better suited word, and given that I'm not allowed to leave this building unless it's to go to the hospital or my own apartment, I thought we agreed that you would take care of the little necessities-?"

"We never agreed."

"I mean, I'd hate for the office to find you at all disagreeable when you've only been here a week…"

Sophia swallowed hard. "How do you take you coffees?"

Booth scribbled his order on a sheet of paper. "Considering that I'm not allowed to leave the building without you trotting at my heels..."

Sophia took the piece of paper with grace, and a heavy exhale. "Get back to work. The CIA demands results."

"Demands? Well, I don't work for the CIA."

"No, but the two companies are working together, which would mean that you are obliged to comply by the wishes of both."

Booth sat back again. "Just get my coffee."

Sophia squared her shoulders, and turned.

When Booth found himself watching her full, toned figure strut away from him, a wave of irritation and disgust flooded his stomach.

Sophia agitated the hell out of him - regardless whether she was eye candy, or not. Even though Hodgins had told Booth that he loved Angela to pieces - and the agent had absolutely no doubt that he did - he had said that he still 'admired' other women, as his wife did other men. Jack had expressed that always felt like a fat kid that had eaten too much cake, and had skipped their run, when he did admire others, though.

When he was sure that she was gone, Booth maximised the page again, and jotted down the location of her grave. Shoving the note in his pocket, he dialled the only number he knew would pick up.

"Cam. I need a favour."

- ~ B&B ~ -

"I can't believe I'm breaking you out of FBI-CIA daycare," Cam laughed half-heartedly, when Booth was safely in her car.

He groaned. "They're watching me like a hawk; it's like, 'I'm a little injured, not retarded' - y'know?"

"Seeley, a couple of cracked, bruised rips and flesh wounds makes you a cripple. Of course they're going to think you're not able to competently defend yourself against a sniper-on-the-loose who has a target painted on your head."

"And Bones'," Booth added quietly. "Have you had any word from her?"

Cam shook her head, hands tightening on her steering wheel. It had been a promise that she had been made to keep, when she had gone to Brennan's apartment and selected the necessities listed; because once one person knew, Broadsky knew. It was just something they had all come to live with.

"So the graveyard, huh?" She pressed instead, taking the turn-off to the cemetery.

Booth swallowed loudly. "Jake left flowers there an hour ago."

"Did you bring the vests?"

Booth indicated at the back seat with his thumb. "They're both there. Though, I think yours may be a size too big-"

"That's fine. And I brought my firearm, as you asked."

"Why do you keep it at work anyway?"

"You know me; I have two. One for work, one for home."

Booth chuckled. "Of course…" He trailed off, however, when they pulled up at the public site.

"Do you know where it is?" Cam asked, reaching over for the bag, and tearing open the zip. She picked up a new item of clothing. "What's this?"

"Kelvar caps," Booth answered. "They're…a more discrete form of protection, as opposed to the helmets. They work a treat for snipers that are trying to blow your head off," he added dryly.

Both suited up, and, checking for a clear perimeter first, ventured out.

"Do you know where her grave is?" Cam asked in a low, but level tone.

"Of course."

They only had to walk another hundred metres, before they arrived at the woman's resting place.

Booth knelt before the plaque, and the two bouquets. Taking a latex glove from his pocket, and securing it around his around his hand, he inspected the two bunches.

To our dearest daughter.

One month since we laid you to rest.

Rest in peace.

Love,

Mom and Dad

Booth inspected the next.

There was no card.

Suddenly, the bunch vibrated, and then trilled. Cautiously, Booth went to retrieve what lay within.

"Stop!"

He spun around.

Sophia and four agents, heavily armed, advance towards him.

Booth directed his stare at Cam. "You told them?" He growled.

"I didn't say a word," she swore.

"She didn't have to," Sophia cut in. "We have both of your cell phones on trackers; which shouldn't come as such a surprise. And, honestly, how long do you think it would have taken me to check your computer history when I realised that you were nowhere within the vicinity?"

"I'm sorry, who is in charge here? Last I checked, you work for me," Booth answered sharply.

Sophia shrugged. "Regardless who works for whom - we're supposed to be keeping you out of trouble. You're not supposed to leave the Bureau - unless it's to go to your apartment - and you know it."

"My apologies," Booth muttered with biting sarcasm.

"Don't make this any harder than it needs to be, Agent Booth," Sophia sighed tiredly. "We're only trying to protect you, and your girl."

Booth did not answer, and his silence was saved, when the bunch of flowers echoed with a ringtone again.

"You going to get that?" Cam asked - but it was more so in mockery to the agents, as opposed to her friend.

Booth signalled for the armoured agents presents to scout the area. He bent over, and retrieved the phone.

"Take this down," he asked of Sophia. "Two-four-zero, five-five-five-five, zero-one-eight-seven. Call the carrier, and put a track on this right now."

She did as was instructed.

Booth's trembling thumb went down on the green receiver button.

"Staking out Paula's grave," an even, baritone greeted smoothly on the other end of the line, before Booth could get a word in. "That's kinda cold, Seeley; even for you."

Booth swallowed his fury. "That's kind of funny, coming from you."

Broadsky wasn't moved. "You feel me looking at you?"

Booth's eyes scouted the area. "Just being careful," he replied cooly. "That's all."

Broadsky's dry chuckle vibrated through the line. "Like you were a week ago? And the day after? Right."

"You're a criminal, Jake. Don't be so surprised when you're perfect little world comes crashing down on you."

"Do the math, Seeley. I'm doing good work."

"You kill people," Booth answered swiftly back into the speaker. "No judge, no jury. Just you making the call."

"My conscience is clear - and since you're trying to stop me, you're playing for the wrong team."

"Surely you're beyond threats now."

"Call it self-preservation, if you will, but I call it self-defence. Sometimes, that means a very aggressive offence."

"You've killed fifty people in the last week, Jacob. How much aggression can you exert before it consumes you?"

Again, the deep, confident chuckled travelled through the mobile. "What makes you think that it's only me?"

For a moment, Booth had no answer. "Who else is involved, Jacob?"

Broadsky humphed with self-satisfaction. "Think about, Seeley. You have all the resources. Or, better still, ask your girl."

Fury boiled in Booth's stomach. "Temperance doesn't know anything."

"How can you be so sure?" He paused - presumably for effect. "How long was it before she told you that she'd been receiving the text messages? Before she told you she was pregnant? If she could keep something like that from you, what else do you think she could do?"

"That's a low blow - even for you," Booth answered, forcing a calmer tone. "Do you forget who you're dealing with here, Jacob?"

"Not for a moment," he replied with cold menace. "And don't you forget; you'll never see the bullet that takes you down. And you'd do well to remember, that it may not be mine."

The line cut off into a single dial tone.

who is Jake working with? what do you think of the new characters? - please review, you know i love 'em!

thanks for reading x

[i do apologise for any grammatical errors this chapter, and the last - i generally only have time to skim through before i post, so please forgive me!]