Chapter 37
Booth barreled around the corner as he entered the Jeffersonian, following the angry voices, wondering why the hell security was just standing around. His weapon had already been in his hand since he abandoned the SUV in the closest possible place to an entrance, not really concerned at the moment about tow-away zones or fire lanes. His gun was still in his hand when he came crashing onto the scene - a fact which caught the immediate attention of the young police officer who seemed to be the focal point in the room and who was surrounded by a furious Angela, a strangely stoic-looking Brennan, a concerned Hodgins who couldn't take his eyes off Angela, and a former New York coroner who had never looked so glad to see Booth even when they were dating.
The cop spun around at the sudden arrival of somebody pointing a gun. His hand immediately went to his weapon and prepared to draw, so Booth pulled his own gun up and away immediately, his eyes on Bones. The last thing he wanted was for her to do anything stupid in an attempt to protect him - anything like having a flashback to that hallway in Albania and trying to make a grab for the officer's weapon if she saw it pointed at him. Tension and emotion practically crackled in the air around the small crowd, and he could see just how quickly the situation could escalate into something far worse than whatever-the-fuck it already was.
"Federal Agent," he identified himself as he holstered his weapon and displayed his badge, already eyeing the handcuffs in the officer's hand. "What's going on?"
The officer, who had 'first solo assignment rookie' written all over him and was probably wondering just what he had gotten himself into, never had a chance against Angela. "It's a lie, Booth. That guy put his hands on Bren first. It was self-defense!"
"Whoa...what guy? This guy?"
'Oh dear God,' he thought, after common sense prevailed and squelched his initial impulse to beat the shit out of anybody, even a cop, who dared touch her. 'Just please don't let her have assaulted an officer. Caroline's gonna kill us both.'
Booth had gotten close enough by then for the officer to inspect his badge. "Agent Booth? I'm Officer Swarovski. In answer to your question, Ms. Brennan is under arrest for battery at the Hot Spot nightclub last weekend. She broke a man's arm. The victim also alleges that Ms. Brennan has been continually harassing him since that time by phone and in person, threatening his life."
"None of that is true, Booth," Brennan piped up in her matter-of-fact way, not looking the least bit worried, and he knew almost painfully what she was thinking: that if she hadn't done it, she would simply not be arrested for it. "I did not apply sufficient force to break his arm, and I don't know his name, telephone number or address. I have never contacted him."
"She also broke his nose," the officer finished.
Booth's eyes flicked back and forth between the officer and Brennan as they took turns talking, dark eyes alert to every nuance.
"That was self-defense, when he attempted to strike me. I have a witness. Angela was there." Bones was so unemotional, even for her, that it was almost eerie.
Angela was unable to remain quiet any longer. "This is ridiculous, Booth! The jerk must have got clued in to who she is and what she's worth, and now he wants a piece of the pie."
"Pie?" Brennan looked truly confused by that one. "I don't have any pie. I don't like my fruit cooked." Turning and motioning to Booth, she helpfully threw in one further clarifying point for the officer's benefit: "Booth loves pie."
"Money, Bones," Booth softly translated. "The guy thinks he can get some money out of you this way. It's not going to work. If you say you didn't break his arm, we can prove that pretty easily."
The officer wasn't letting things go that easily. "The victim has provided medical documentation of his injuries, and we have security tapes from the club which clearly show that the initial attack in which she broke the victim's arm was unprovoked."
"Good! Then your tapes show that he put his hands on her first!" Angela exploded, taking a step in the officer's direction that could be construed as mildly threatening. "She's the victim here!"
He turned to her immediately, one hand going to rest on the pepper spray on his belt and unsnap the cover. "Ma'am, if you continue to interfere I'm going to arrest you as well, for disorderly conduct."
"Well you may as well arrest me too then, because if you touch her, I'm going to get disorderly." This from Hodgins, who had come up to stand directly behind Angela and throw his two cents in, arms crossed as he drew himself up to his full height.
"All right, everybody STOP," Booth thundered, bringing every eye obediently to him, even the cop. Having that advantage for a moment, he turned his full attention to the officer. "Okay, now just slow down here a minute. This woman is part of an ongoing federal investigation - my investigation - so I'd appreciate the courtesy of a full explanation here."
Apparently he had intimidated everybody but Brennan, who just couldn't stay quiet. "I'm suspended, Booth. I'm not part of any..."
He could explode later. At that moment, calm was the only thing that was going to save any of them, no matter how furious he was on the inside at what was happening to her. "Bon- Dr. Brennan, could you please just be quiet for one minute?"
Officer Swarovski, clearly eager to be a part of all that inter-agency cooperation he had heard so much about in training, was glad to offer that much of a courtesy - especially to the one picture of calm and sanity in the entire crazy situation. "I have a warrant for her arrest. The victim wishes to press charges. Ms. Brennan was..."
"Dr. Brennan," he got in at least triplicate.
"She was identified by multiple witnesses from the scene, several of whom recognized and could identify her by name. The victim fears for his life due to the alleged threats."
"Oh, that is such bullshit," Angela piped back up. At Booth's glare she quieted back down, but crossed her arms in clear displeasure as the officer continued speaking.
"Ms. Brennan - Dr. Brennan called the station this morning to turn herself in."
Bones shook her head to deny that. "That's not true either, Booth. I called to find out why the police visited my apartment this morning. They asked where I was and I told them I was here." She gave a clearly derisive look to the officer. "Your support staff should be better trained. The operator was extremely unhelpful and refused to tell me the purpose of the visit."
Explanations out of the way, the officer clearly intended to finish making his arrest. Calm up until that point, Brennan tensed when he grabbed her first arm and put the cuff on her, her eyes going straight to Booth and making him feel more helpless than he could ever remember feeling.
"You have the right to remain silent," the officer began the Miranda warning, the rest of his words lost to the other occupants of the room.
"Booth!" Angela hissed. "Do something!"
Cam, who had already come up to stand directly beside him, placed a restraining hand on his arm. "That's bad advice, Seeley. He's got a warrant. You know there's not even going to be enough for probable cause on the stalking nonsense, so she's looking at a simple battery charge - she'll most likely get booked and released in a few hours. Follow her to the station. Call Caroline. Don't do anything that's going to get you fired."
Booth barely heard either of them. He was watching the way Brennan winced when the cuff tightened up on her injured hand, without the protection of the soft-cast that she must not have retrieved from his living room floor that morning. Goddamnit. That was twice now in his life that he'd had to stand by and watch a careless cop hurt her with a handcuff on an injured hand, the first being when she was arrested in New Orleans before his very eyes. It had stabbed him in the heart even then. This time it was almost his undoing.
What was his undoing was the way her whole body went stiff as a board when her arms were pulled behind her and she heard the unmistakable sound of the second cuff locking into place on her uninjured wrist as the officer kept rattling off her rights. Her eyes slammed shut and she inhaled sharply, and Booth, Angela, and even Cam figured out immediately that she wasn't in the room with them anymore.
"A flashback," Angela breathed. "Oh my God."
"Bones?" Booth attempted, almost afraid to move or speak for fear that he might make it worse; it was the constant danger that came with the knowledge that many of her flashbacks were about him.
She never answered. Eyes squeezed shut, biting her lip, it was clear that she was fighting with every ounce of mental strength she possessed to keep the flashback from taking complete control of her - and that she was losing. When a single tear squeezed out from behind her lashes and began tracking down her cheek and he still couldn't see her eyes behind her clenched lids, Booth had had more than enough. All he could think about was her telling him how she had been handcuffed to a bed while they tried to hook her on drugs that would have stolen her brilliant mind from him forever.
His handcuff key was in his hands and he moved behind her so fast that even the officer standing right there would have been hard pressed to say how he got there as he inserted himself between them. Gently, Booth's hand came into contact with hers as he reached to lightly grasp her cuffed wrist to begin unlocking the cuffs from her.
"Dr. Brennan is an expert witness in an open federal murder case, and it's come to the Bureau's attention that her life could be in danger. I'm here to take her into protective federal custody."
When the officer opened his mouth to protest, Booth sensed it without ever taking his eyes from Brennan.
"I'll bring her to the station myself right now to honor your warrant, but she's not leaving my custody or my sight unless you can make adequate arrangements for her protection. And I'll be the one to decide what's adequate." He left out the fact that the only acceptable definition of 'adequate' was himself by her side. "If you want to follow in your cruiser or even ride along with me that's fine, but I'm asking for the police department's cooperation. Or if you prefer, I can have Deputy Director Cullen of the F.B.I. give your chief a call to make arrangements for interagency cooperation."
As he spoke with such authority to the officer, by contrast his hands on her were infinitely tender as he gently held her wrist in his hand, inserted the key and removed the cuff from her injured hand first. As she yanked that arm free almost violently, she shuddered, letting him know that the worst wasn't entirely over. First letting her still-confined hand fall back around from behind her back to her side, he then very carefully and gently lifted that wrist in one hand so he could access the lock, letting two of his fingers snake up against her palm.
Nothing had ever been more reassuring to him than the way her fingers clasped onto his like a lifeline. She knew he was there and who he was, despite her still clenched eyes and the pained expression on her face. And she was turning to him instead of running away from him.
Quickly and painstakingly gently, he removed the other cuff as well, holding the removed cuffs back out to the officer but never taking his eyes off of his partner's face, and certainly not pulling his other hand out of the death grip she had on him.
He didn't really care about the fact that the officer had probably figured out by then that the nature of their relationship was a hell of a lot more personal than Booth had let on, and probably even that most of what he had said was utter bullshit. He also didn't care that the officer was looking at Bones a little strangely as she still refused to open her eyes, probably wondering what the hell was wrong with her and mentally calculating just how many forms he'd have to fill out when his simple arrest turned into a mental institution evaluation and commitment if he insisted on retaining custody himself.
To Booth, all that mattered at that exact moment was having her out of those damn cuffs.
The cop cleared his throat, not really wanting to get on the wrong side of the feds and this fed in particular. "That won't be necessary, sir. Just bring her down to the station and I'll follow in my cruiser."
Booth spared him only a terse nod and a quick description of where he was parked, a clear dismissal. Next, his attention turned to Brennan's best friend.
"Angela, you were there that night so you're coming with us. Get her coat." His words were directed at the artist, but his eyes never left the forensic anthropologist.
Angela only continued to stare for a moment before shaking herself out of it. "Of course. I'll be right back."
"Cam, call Caroline Julian and tell her what happened. Tell her I'll owe her forever if she can meet me at the police station 20 minutes ago." Again, he never took his eyes off Brennan.
"She'll probably take you up on that, Booth," Cam warned wryly. "Are you sure you want to sell your soul over a simple battery charge?"
"Don't care. Just tell her I need her."
Not really worried about who was watching while they waited for Angela, Booth brought his free hand up to warmly sandwich Brennan's hand that still desperately grasped his other one, not daring touch her in any other way when he could feel the tension that still thrummed through her so violently it felt like she might break at any moment.
Vaguely and with a flash of gratitude, he registered Cam's voice in the background authoritatively clearing the area, rebuking and sending all the curious bystanders back to their work and thereby removing their stares from Bones.
When he spoke, Booth's voice was gentle in a way Cam knew she had never heard from him before, as he shut out the rest of the world and leaned in close to talk to Brennan. "Bones? I need you to open your eyes. Look at me, please."
She gripped his fingers a little tighter, but just continued to stand stock still, another tear squeezing out from beneath her lashes as her mind and body both fought for dominance over the memories caused by the sound and feel of those cuffs locking onto her wrists. It scared the hell out of him that she might be retreating inside herself in response to such a stark reminder of trauma, so he stepped up his efforts, trying to disguise the fear in his voice.
"Bones! It's over. You're safe here in the lab, with me. We're not there, baby."
Still nothing, and his desperation ramped up one notch further, his grip on her hand growing tighter. "Come on, sweetheart, please...you're scaring me."
He was right on the verge of ordering somebody to call Sweets, inwardly still lamenting the fact that it was Sweets who had talked her out of her flashback in the hospital when he had failed, and it looked like he still couldn't reach her. But in the next moment he got redemption on that topic as she opened her eyes and focused in his general direction.
When he saw how tired and how defeated she looked, like it had taken every ounce of energy she had to fight so hard, his heart sank and he almost wished he hadn't made her open her eyes. She had fought it and avoided falling completely apart in the middle of the Jeffersonian, but it had clearly taken a toll.
Angela had reappeared with the coat by then, but wouldn't have interrupted the scene in front of her for anything. Never had she seen someone so focused on another person before; never had she personally seen Booth's heart completely in his eyes before, and the effect was breathtaking.
And then there was also the fact that she wasn't exactly looking forward to seeing her best friend getting booked for battery, either, when she greatly suspected that it was her own fault for taking her to that club in the first place.
Now that Brennan's eyes were open, Booth brought up one hand to place it against her face, trying to get her focus on him. "Bones, are you okay? Talk to me."
"I'm fine." Her voice was hoarse, like she had been too long without water, and she still didn't meet his eyes.
As if he sensed her presence, Booth looked up and reached for Brennan's coat from Angela, their concerned eyes meeting for a moment. Carefully, Booth draped the coat over Brennan's shoulders before moving to her side and wrapping an arm tight around her shoulders. "Come on, Bones. We've gotta go down to the police station, okay?"
"I'm fine, Booth." Her voice was stronger that time, reassuring him that she was coming out of it. Less reassuring was the fact that she leaned into him so hard that he was practically supporting her. If he hadn't been afraid it would humiliate her, he'd have picked her up and carried her. But he knew that even in her current state, she'd prefer to walk out on her own power or at least the illusion of her own power. And so he readjusted his hold to slip his arm around her waist beneath her coat and support her even more, taking as much of her weight as he could while still leaving her - just barely - on her feet.
When he got her back to his apartment later, however, it was going to be a different story. If she still looked like that, he was carrying her all the way from his SUV to his bed and then tucking her in, and he wasn't hearing any argument about it.
… ooo … ooo …
Despite Booth's attempts to coax a response from her as he led her toward his truck, Brennan was completely silent after her two hoarse reassurances to Booth in the lab that she was - a highly debatable description that he could really learn to hate - 'fine.'
Finally, they made it to the SUV where Angela stood glaring at the officer parked behind Booth's vehicle as though everything was his fault, while Booth steered a still somewhat dazed looking Brennan to the passenger side, opened the rear door, and began to guide her into the back seat so Angela could sit close beside her.
"Bones? You okay?" he tried again.
As she began to climb in, shaking off his guiding arm but still not answering his question, Booth shifted his weight from foot to foot in indecision for a moment as he recognized a demeanor he hadn't seen on her since their long trip home. His eyes flicked briefly over to Angela before returning to stare at his silent partner. When the first memory that flashed through his mind was her having a flashback in mid-flight home from Albania, first taking a few years off his life by trying to escape through the door in midair, and then finally holding a knife on him, he didn't take long to make a decision.
"Here. You drive."
Angela's concentration on staring a hole through the unfortunate patrolman was rudely broken by Booth's keys suddenly held out to her, dangling from his finger. Automatically she took them, silent for the moment as she watched him immediately turn his back on her and climb into the back with Brennan. Only when it became clear he had no intention of re-emerging did she find her voice.
"Whoa...Booth, wait. You want me to drive your very official government G-man vehicle? Why?"
"Had enough of D.C. traffic today," he tossed easily over his shoulder, his eyes on Brennan's face as he moved to cautiously sit next to her. He kept his tone intentionally light for her sake - despite the fact that her stony expression and seeming obliviousness to him were causing enough worry to eat a hole through his heart.
"No, I meant..."
Still, he kept his tone light, though his eyes did finally turn toward Angela. "I know what you meant. Just drive straight to the police station and it'll be fine."
Angela glanced nervously back over her shoulder at the officer she had almost forgotten for a moment. "I'm pretty sure our Keystone cop back there has at least figured out that I'm not FBI, Booth. Couldn't this cause you some problems? I can sit with her."
He didn't even hesitate. After reaching up into the front with one lightning-fast motion to hit the button that would lock the back doors so they couldn't be opened from the inside, Booth was back out of the vehicle like a shot, using his body to block the one open door he had just emerged from. As he stepped out, he glanced back over his shoulder at Bones, who was staring quietly out the opposite window with that lost little girl look that always broke him. The fact that she seemed completely unaware of his presence - and, of course, that she had never spoken to him or even acknowledged his existence again after that hoarse little 'I'm fine' before they came outside - did little to calm him.
But having confirmed, for the moment at least, that she had no intention of taking off or falling apart, he turned his attention to Angela, all the while being careful to keep the door blocked. All of the former lightness was gone from his tone as he dropped his voice low where only she could hear him.
"I'm not worried about him, I'm worried about her. You saw her face back there just like I did, and you see her now. God only knows what kind of memories having those damn handcuffs put on her have brought back up, but I don't trust her right now. I don't trust her not to run from me, and I don't put anything past her to try to escape if she has another flashback on the way there. Anything. Do you understand?"
Angela's eyes widened as she read between the lines. "God, Booth...you really think she would try to jump out of a moving car?"
He never even blinked. Only the slightly tighter clench of his jaw betrayed just how much he thought that horrifying prospect was possible. And since he really didn't have time to beat around the bush, he wasn't going to pull any punches in his word choice. "She tried to jump off the goddamn plane in midair when one of those things hit her on the way home, so yeah, I'm not taking any chances. If she's going to have another one while we're going 60 miles an hour, I want my hands free and her within easy reach."
Angela's eyes were huge as she gaped at Booth, trying to process that little bombshell. Taking some pity on her, Booth softened considerably, placing a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. "Look, I've got these doors locked so they can't be opened from the inside. She's not going anywhere. But I still just don't want to take a chance. She could hurt herself trying, or she could hurt you. Either way, you drive and I'll sit with her."
Angela still hadn't quite caught up past the point of her best friend being so far out of her mind in terror that she had narrowly escaped killing herself on the plane. "How did you stop her? What did you do?" she asked in a voice not much above a whisper.
His jaw muscle jumped and his eyes clouded at the memory, but it was still strangely comforting to get it out. So much of what had happened was still locked up inside, poisoning him. "Panicked completely. I tackled her and just held on with everything I had." His haunted eyes looked a little rueful. "Probably didn't help her about being scared of me either, in hindsight."
Suddenly not wanting to meet Angela's eyes, he checked on Brennan over his shoulder again, noting that she hadn't moved. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. For once, he'd love nothing more than to hear her griping about his overprotective Alpha-male tendencies or his not letting her drive. He'd even more than willingly reopen the her-getting-a-gun debate if it'd just get her to say something that sounded like her. He also absently noted the way the cop behind them was impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, shifting in his seat and probably wondering exactly what was taking so long. A flash of irritation hit Booth, right along with the even more irritating knowledge that he'd probably be responding much more impatiently in the exact same situation were the tables turned. He really had nothing to be complaining about where the officer was concerned, and that fact only frustrated him more.
He could still feel Angela's eyes on him, so he finally chanced a glance back at her, still half expecting to see accusation there. There was absolutely none. "I'm glad you were there, Booth. I'm glad you're here with her now."
He nodded gratefully, not really trusting his voice. One more glance behind him showed him that Brennan had turned and was looking in his direction, her eyes finally focused right on him. It prompted him into immediate action.
"Thank you." His hands landed gratefully on Angela's shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze before he carefully climbed back into the seat next to Brennan, a soft smile on his face as he saw that she was studying him somberly as he moved back in next to her, her eyes looking a little clearer. He counted it progress that she was meeting his eyes again.
"How you holding up, Bones?"
Her eyes tracked off of him toward the front seat as Angela climbed in and started the vehicle. Just as he was starting to worry that she had gone into some kind of completely catatonic state, she turned her eyes back to him.
"This is not fair."
His heart clenched, thinking she must be echoing his own sentiments about the injustice of something else happening to her just as she began to recover. Cautiously, he reached for her hand, vowing inwardly that his next words were true no matter what he had to do. "I know, baby. I'm going to take care of it, okay? It's going to be all right."
Her brow wrinkled up, and she'd never know just how much relief she bestowed on her partner's heart with her next words, despite her testy tone.
"Stop calling me that at work. Why does Angela get to drive?"
… ooo … ooo …
A smile of relief nearly broke out on Booth's face as he expelled a breath that came from deep within. Nearly. That empty look on her face was still nothing to smile about. Part of him wanted to grab her and gratefully hug her for reassuring him that she was still in there, and then hold her all the way to the police station if she'd let him. Had it not been for what he witnessed at the Jeffersonian, he might've. Lately, reaching out to touch her seemed to be coming more and more naturally again, his confidence increasing with each time that they had contact and she didn't run screaming from him. And the night before, when she had not only not pushed him away but had actually encouraged him as his hands wandered all over her, had done even more to restore his confidence.
He was actually starting to feel again like he had the privilege to put his hands on her without feeling like he first needed written permission signed in blood.
But for that exact moment, with tension still evident all over her from her flashback to being restrained, he was going to settle for edging just a little closer to her so that their shoulders were touching, and just let it be known that his arms and his shoulder were there for her if she wanted to lean on them. Apparently, she didn't. She almost immediately returned to staring out that window.
"See Bones, this is so much better than driving," he attempted after a minute or so, hoping to get another reaction out of her…a smile, an insult to take his cockiness down a peg or two, anything but that strangely stoic and emotionless face that was starting to scare him. "You get to sit with me." He bumped her lightly with the shoulder touching her as he released her hand, angling himself a little toward her.
Nothing. She pulled her now freed hand away and crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring him completely.
As casually and nonchalantly as he could, Booth brought his arm up to the seatback behind her, not putting it around her or even touching her, but resting it so close that all she'd have to do is shift backward and his arm would be around her.
She never even looked at him, but was evidently aware of his tactic. "Aren't you going to yawn as well, in a ridiculous attempt to feign subtlety?"
She had caught him off guard, as it often did when she was all too fully aware of something he would have expected her to be oblivious about. Truth be told, her words delighted him, as did the fact that she had just busted him.
It was her tone that sent another stab of uneasiness through him. No humor at all….just flat, unemotional, if anything just a tinge annoyed and testy.
He decided to go along with the words rather than the tone.
"Bones, I'm hurt. I'm far too mature and smooth to try anything so juvenile as that." Pausing a moment for emphasis, he then lifted his arm back up and demonstrated his next words as he spoke, gratified to see that she at least turned to look and see what he was doing. "I usually go with the long drawn-out stretch..." Again, he ended with his arm on the seatback behind her rather than on her.
He'd have done just about anything to make her smile at that point, or to get that look out of her eyes. His attempt at humor clearly hadn't worked. So he tried the next weapon in his arsenal. Leaning in just a little, he pointedly ignored Angela's eyes on them in the rearview mirror as he flirted absolutely shamelessly with his partner in an attempt to put some kind of smile on her face. Grinning a megawatt grin at her, he still didn't touch her but he was close enough that his breath moved her hair as he spoke. "So tell me who tried the yawn thing on you, Bones? Want me to get federal on 'em?"
Nothing. Not even a forced smile. She didn't even grace it with a response, even a biting one. She just stared out that damn window again. He knew he probably should just leave her alone, but fear was beginning to set in that she would push him away.
Humor and flirting having failed, he moved on. Letting a pitiful expression creep into his eyes - one that had melted many a female before her - he next went for a plaintive, hurt tone. "Oh, c'mon, Bones. I thought you might like sitting back here with me."
The tension still running rampant within her caused her words to come out more harshly than she intended. "Actually, I'd prefer to drive. I don't need you to take care of me, Booth."
Booth sighed as the remnants of his smile faded completely from his face, recognizing her testiness for exactly what it was (fear), her preoccupation with driving for exactly what it was (a desperate need to have some kind of control), and just didn't let either one get to him.
"It's going to be all right, Bones. Caroline's going to meet us there, and we'll work something out. You're not going behind bars tonight - I promise. I won't let that happen."
The sudden flash of anger in her eyes told him almost immediately that had been the wrong thing to say. With everything spinning out of control around her, she needed a target - an outlet for her frustrations about once again being out of control of her own destiny and being dependent on Booth for help…and, of course, having had a flashback in the middle of her safe-haven at the Jeffersonian in the eyes of way too many people she saw every day.
He'd have rather held her; but if she wasn't going to use his sturdy shoulders for comfort, he'd gladly let her beat her frustrations out on them instead so he could carry them for her. But even despite his complete willingness to take whatever anger she needed to dish out, the icy tone in her voice still chilled him. Anger he could deal with; shutting him out he couldn't. And she wasn't finished.
"You can't promise that, Booth, and I already told you I'm fine. This is not necessary. In fact, I should have ridden with Officer Swarovski. I don't expect special privileges."
Pointedly, she moved slightly away from his outstretched arm toward the door, putting a little space between the two of them and not quite understanding the way he tensed and his hand flinched slightly toward her when she did.
Trying to relax his tensed muscles that came as an automatic reaction to her moving toward the door, he did his best not to let the cold fist of worry around his heart squeeze him into panicking and doing or saying anything stupid. It always struck him as slightly ironic that any move to figuratively hold on to her more tightly had the opposite effect of pushing her farther away.
"Bones."
His calm tone only seemed to increase her determination. "You can't use your influence to fix every situation for me just because we're together now, Booth. I've been perfectly capable of taking care of myself without you for my entire adult life, and I didn't ask for your help today. This has nothing to do with you."
Whether consciously or not, she had been trying to provoke an angry reaction from him, and anger was exactly what she had expected. It would have made pushing him away so much easier if he would yell back at her. But by contrast, the soft way he spoke her name - completely devoid of anything even resembling anger or irritation - caught her completely off guard.
"Bones." His voice was even more tender than it had been in the lab in front of Cam.
"What?" Brennan snapped in return, even as tears she couldn't have explained sprang unbidden to her eyes in reaction to his kindness.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Perhaps you should," she shot back automatically, not even sure of exactly what that meant. Almost savagely, she brushed away the lone tear that traitorously made its way down her face.
Unwavering, his eyes stayed calmly fixed on her, despite the fact that his heart broke a little at that tear. "But I'm not. Push just as hard as you want. I'll be right beside you, Bones, no matter what. I'm not going to leave you. I promise. I promise. Just please let me be here for you, okay?"
As closely as he watched her face, he saw the exact moment that he broke through her defenses. It took everything he had to keep from reaching for her when he saw her decide to trust him in this too. But it had to be her decision completely. For once, he needed her to come to him.
And yet it was still another full minute, at least, before she reluctantly nodded, clearly unsure of how to proceed. When her eyes involuntarily flicked down to his arm still slightly behind her, that was good enough for him. Edging closer, he tentatively reached out and touched her shoulder, relieved when she met him halfway and leaned fully back into the seat, effectively placing herself in his one-armed embrace. She stared wordlessly out the window for the remaining moments of the drive, but the reassuring weight of her head against his shoulder when she unexpectedly laid it against him a moment later was all it took for him to protectively tighten his arm around her and pull her as close as he could get her, more determined than ever to keep her safe.
… ooo … ooo …
Brennan held up well through the time it took to photograph and fingerprint her, seeming more like herself as the flashback faded farther and farther from memory. Thanks to some acquaintances they had made on previous cases they had worked - not that Brennan actually remembered any of their names, but fortunately Booth did - he had managed to talk his way into staying with her the entire time.
Soon the three of them were sitting in an interview room waiting for 'her attorney,' Booth's chair pulled so close next to her that their knees touched under the table. She was acting almost entirely like herself by that point, with no clue just how relieved the man sitting beside her felt about that.
They didn't have to wait long before the door was abruptly slammed open.
"This better be good, Seeley Booth," was Caroline Julian's opening statement as she dramatically slapped her bag down on the metal interview table before them and planted a hand on her hip. "You pulled me out of an anniversary celebration for a federal judge about five minutes before they started serving the quiche."
Not even waiting for his answer, she turned an appraising eye on Brennan as she took the head chair at the table, all the while crossing her arms and appearing to look threatening. "You. I should have figured. Well let's have it, cherie. What did you not do this time?"
… ooo … ooo …
She looked toward Booth as though for direction, and at his encouraging nod Brennan answered Caroline's question perfectly literally:
"I did not break his arm, and I did not stalk or threaten to kill him." Almost apologetically, her eyes turned toward Booth without ever moving her head from Caroline's direction. "I did, however, break his nose."
Caroline never even blinked. "Whose arm? Whose nose?"
Never having known the man's name, Brennan looked a little uncertain how to answer that question. "I...don't know." Seeing the exasperated look Caroline flashed at Booth, Brennan tried again. "The victim's?" It sounded more like a question than an answer.
The prickly prosecutor huffed impatiently. "Right now I should be bumping elbows with a bunch of federal judges holding plates full of cream puffs, so don't get cute with me, cherie. Somebody tell me why I'm here, and make sense." The full weight of her glare turned to Booth. "You. When and where did she not break this mystery victim's arm, and more importantly why?"
Brennan quickly answered for herself before he could speak, to Booth's growing consternation. "Last weekend, at an establishment known as the Hot Spot nightclub." Gesturing toward Angela, she made a further attempt to clarify. "Angela wished to engage in a social ritual known as 'girl's night out,' ostensibly as a means of mitigating a dispute between Agent Booth and myself."
Apparently, over the years Caroline had also learned to quickly translate Brennanese. She blinked one time, uncharacteristically speechless for a split second as she appraised both Booth and Brennan, finally noticing just exactly how close they were sitting. Then she rose to her feet and leaned across the table toward Booth, hands braced on the table.
"Let me get this straight. You called me down here to play defense attorney because this one started a bar brawl when you two got into a little lovers' spat? I take back what I've said in the past about you, Booth. You're not crazy. You've lost your damn mind."
Brennan spoke up quickly. "Actually, that's incorrect. Booth and I are not lovers. Well, not yet."
That put every eye on her, but the primary ones she noticed were Booth's, which incomprehensibly looked slightly stricken all of a sudden.
"What? Bones!" he protested, looking like a wounded puppy - a pitiful wounded puppy. Somewhat urgently, his hand shot out and grabbed a file folder from a pocket of Caroline's briefcase, holding it up with himself and Brennan behind it as though it would actually do anything to stop a suddenly very interested Angela and very put-out Caroline from hearing his scandalized whisper. "Not lovers? How can you even say that after last night?" he whispered dramatically.
"Because it's true, Booth," she loudly whispered back, mimicking his tone.
He had almost forgotten the arrest, Angela, and even the wrath of Caroline. "Bones, for the hundredth time, just because we haven't made love yet..."
He was stopped by the sudden disappearance of the folder/barrier from his hands, as Caroline unceremoniously snatched it from his grasp and tucked it back in the side of her briefcase. "What is this, the junior high prom? People can still hear you when you do that, cher. And what does this have to do with my bar brawl? Nothing, I'm guessing. I don't have time to play referee, Booth, and black and white stripes do not flatter me anyway. So cut to the chase. What exactly do you need me to do?"
But at Booth's reference to last night, Angela was grinning ear to ear for the first time since Officer Swarovski had arrived at the Jeffersonian. She hadn't forgotten watching Brennan walk out of her office the night before with a head of steam and plans to scare her partner senseless while getting it through his thick head that she wanted to move things along. But she had never had a chance to interrogate her friend that morning before the officer arrived; and upon seeing how calm Brennan had looked when she arrived at work, Angela had quite honestly assumed that cooler heads had prevailed and Brennan had cooled down by the time she reached Booth's apartment...leading to only more of the same, and probably one more daffodil in the next vase of flowers.
"Oh my God. Bren, you actually went through with it?"
Brennan turned calmly toward her friend. "Yes. You really shouldn't sound so surprised, Angela. I told you what I intended to do."
"Bones!"
"What?"
The completely horror-stricken look on Booth's face was clear even to her. He didn't have to say another word.
"You already knew that Angela was involved, Booth. And I already told you that she only knew the basic idea of the plan."
Needing something to focus on, Booth had reached out and grabbed one of the bottled waters the police department had provided for them. Opening it, he took several long drinks, not even tasting the water. It took him that long to be able to put together a sentence. "Well let's just keep it that way, all right?" He only sounded mildly panicked, he noted gladly. "Non-specific, Bones. Always be as non-specific as possible." Crisis averted, he started to turn his attention to Caroline.
But Angela wasn't done - not even close. "So exactly how far did things go?" she couldn't resist asking with a huge grin. If Booth was that paranoid, that could only mean there were juicy details she needed immediately.
"Not very far," Brennan announced casually. "Only third base."
It was a good thing he was in between drinks. As it was, he still managed to suck some water down the wrong pipe, although he managed to avoid any embarrassing choking or coughing fits.
"No! We - I mean, Bones, that - it really wasn't..." Damnit, he needed that folder again. And a sock to shove in her mouth until he could fully explain the base system and have a very serious discussion about discretion with her behind said folder. "Non-specific, Bones!"
As usual, she saw absolutely no cause for his alarm. "That is non-specific, Booth. It's a vague generality. Besides, you said it was third base Booth-style. Although I'm unaware of the standard definition of third base, it stands to reason that Booth-style implies specific differences Angela would be unaware of. Therefore, saying third base is, by definition, non-specific."
"Third base Booth-style?" Angela's eyebrows sat almost on top of her head. "Oh, this I've got to hear."
Even Caroline looked vaguely amused despite her impatience, so he just gave up. "You know what? Forget it. Can we please just focus here?"
"Just one more question...how's your back today, Booth?" Angela teased.
"Great," the target of her teasing groused, his neck flushing a deep red as one hand self-consciously came up to rub it. "Just peachy. None of your business. Look, Caroline, the cops have got medical records and security tapes. It'll be easy enough for the squints to give you proof that the two don't match up and it wasn't Bones who broke this bastard's arm. I just need you to get her out of here in the meantime without her ever seeing the inside of a holding cell, and get the squints the evidence they need to prove her innocence."
Caroline pinned him with a hard look, not the least bit swayed. "I think maybe a few hours in there might do them both some good." She turned her scowl on Brennan and Angela, her tone derisive. "Expert witnesses from the Jeffersonian Institution, running around popping possible future members of my juries in the nose, like they think they're at some college frat party. Now what were you two thinking, cheries?"
Clearly Booth wasn't getting his point across, but no way in hell was he attempting it with Bones in the room. Lips pressed into a thin line, Booth rose to his feet and placed a hand at Caroline's elbow. His next several sentences came out in one long, unpaused rush as he marched the prosecutor from the table and out the door.
"Caroline I need to talk to you outside please, Excuse us ladies, Angela keep an eye on her, Thank you."
When he and Caroline stepped outside the room and the door clicked shut, she was giving him a look that would have made a lesser man hide as she removed her arm from his grasp. "You better be glad you've got a pretty face, cher, or I'd have already rearranged it for you. Now what's going on here? You two are acting even weirder than normal, and that's saying a lot."
Booth's jaw clenched. "Look, can I just give you the nutshell version?"
Still not really knowing what was going on, Caroline crossed her arms huffily as she raised one eyebrow. "I wish you would. First time for everything."
Booth held her eyes, making sure she saw how serious he was. He didn't want to say any of it more than once. Once was going to be hard enough. Damn, but he was sick of reliving this. Why the hell hadn't Cam just filled her in?
"Bones got kidnapped in Albania and sold to a sex slavery operation. It took me days to find her while they kept her chained to a bed pumping drugs into her, and when I finally did find her it got ugly. I had to convince her captors I was assaulting her, only she didn't get quite get the message that it was an act. She's been having flashbacks left and right since we got back, a lot of them about me attacking her, and then some idiot at this nightclub Angela hauled her off to decided to get fresh with her. She had a flashback, grabbed his arm, he tried to hit her, and she finished it. Obviously he found out who she is, and now he's decided she's good for some quick bucks so he's claiming she's been stalking him. They've got medical records and security tapes we can use to fight the battery charge, but we need to get this guy's phone records to disprove the stalking. In the meantime, Bones just about lost it when that cop put handcuffs on her to bring her down here, and I don't know what it'll do to her if she gets put behind bars for even a minute. So I need her out of here. Now. With me. Is that nutshell enough for you?"
Caroline's eyes were about as surprised as he'd ever seen them, although she had lost none of that unflappable exterior. She recovered in approximately two seconds.
"Well why didn't you just say so, cher? Now that gives me something I can work with."
Turning on her heel and leaving the suddenly exhausted man behind her in her wake, she strode right up to poor Officer Swarovski, at a nearby computer working on his reports for the day. "You. I need to see all of the evidence against my client. Medical records, security tapes, everything."
His mouth opened and closed once like a fish. "But the prosecutor..."
"Is going to give it all to me anyway, cher. Call the D.A.'s office if you need to, but get me those files."
She spun around and began making her way back to the room where Brennan waited, Booth still standing just outside the door watching her. Just before she entered the door Booth opened for her, she turned back around to the gaping officer. "What are you waiting for? My client is clearly mentally compromised and in need of immediate medical attention. Did you even bother to request a mental evaluation be done at the time of arrest?"
"I..."
"It's not a difficult question, cher. Was she offered medical or mental health care, or was she transported to a facility for evaluation?"
Swarovski tried pointing at Booth. "She was in the custody of..."
Caroline didn't let him finish. "What is this, your first day on the job? My client is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She needs to be under the care of a mental health professional, not locked up in a jail cell. Now call the D.A.'s office, get your authorization, and get me that evidence before any more of my client's civil rights are violated."
With that, she strode back into the interrogation room, followed only a few seconds later by Booth. If anyone other than him noticed that Caroline managed to be just as brisk and edgy as normal for the rest of their meeting without ever once directing any of her venom in Brennan's direction, nobody mentioned it.
… ooo … ooo …
Three hours later, Brennan walked out of the police station with Booth's steadying hand on her back, released on her own recognizance. Through her vast network of contacts, Caroline had managed to get Brennan a super-fast first appearance hearing, and had even managed to get a subpoena for the phone records of the 'victim'. It would take some time to get them, but it was a weight off of Booth's mind knowing that they would soon have them and they would disprove every stupid, not-so-well-thought-out accusation the loser had made about Brennan calling him.
He'd spent all afternoon picking every detail of the statement apart with Caroline, until he got to the point where the 'victim' implied Bones was some kind of slut that had been trying to catch his eye all night. That was when Caroline pointed out that he was so furiously red his head looked like it was going to explode and she shooed him away before he could get any ideas about doing anything stupid, reminding him that he had called in his very last favor so he now owed her forever and she wouldn't be coming to bail him out.
At the hearing, it also didn't hurt matters that one look at the X-ray in the medical records had been enough for Brennan to conclude that although the man certainly had a broken arm, the injury had been sustained in a fall, quite possibly from a motorcycle accident - a fact which was quickly corroborated by Dr. Clark Edison of the Jeffersonian Institution. More than likely, Booth opined to Brennan, he had broken his arm in a drunken crash after leaving the club that night and had just capitalized on the opportunity it provided him. Booth also opined that he hoped it hurt like hell.
Although they had failed to get all of the charges dismissed outright, at least she was going home and they had a game plan for taking care of the rest of it. And at least, Booth thought with great relief, he hadn't had to watch her get locked up. He wasn't sure either of them could have handled that right then.
As they left the station, this time Booth drove and allowed Brennan to take her normal place next to him in the front seat, as she had been acting more or less like herself since arriving at the police station. Angela sat in the back, and was mostly quiet for the ride back to the Jeffersonian - as were Booth and Brennan.
When Booth pulled up outside the Jeffersonian, Angela quickly leaned forward to give Brennan a quick hug. "I love you, sweetie. Call me if you need anything."
Brennan's face registered confusion as Angela climbed out of the vehicle, and she quickly opened her own door to follow. "What are you talking about? I'm coming back in with you."
"No, you're not," Booth stated flatly, reaching out to catch her arm and cutting off any response Angela might have made. "I'm taking you home with me."
Brennan scoffed, preparing to ridicule that statement until she caught sight of his face and realized just exactly how serious he was. Quickly, her own expression mirrored his in seriousness. "I have work to finish, Booth."
All three of them were exhausted, and he intended this to be a brief argument. "What you have, Bones, is some grubby little creep making false accusations about you stalking him, who's going to be finding out pretty soon here that his charges against you on the broken arm have been dismissed. I'm not letting you out of my sight." He didn't think the guy would really go after her, but with Bones it was always safest not to take anything for granted.
"I can drive myself to your apartment when I'm finished here," she argued reasonably. "You've seen the tape, Booth. Even if he approaches me, I can easily defend myself."
Of course she could, and he knew it. She'd already kicked the guy's ass once. That didn't mean the very idea didn't give him cold chills. She could have beat the crap out of the Gravedigger and Edon Tolka too, or even Kenton - but she hadn't got a chance. Martial arts aren't very effective against cattle prods, injections, and guns.
"I know that, Bones. And yes, I did see the tape. But what I see right now is you. You're exhausted, you've been through the wringer, and to be honest with you so have I. Just..." He glanced momentarily in Angela's direction, not really comfortable with talking freely in front of her; but since she was firmly planted in place and Brennan still looked determined to go with her, he really didn't have much choice. "Just come home with me now and let me take care of you tonight, Bones. Please."
In the next moment, he was glad Angela was still standing there. "Let him, sweetie. Booth's right. Go home with him."
Brennan was exhausted, and though she might have persisted in arguing with either of them, she just wasn't up to two of them. "Fine. But I'm driving my own car so I can come in early tomorrow. You can follow me if you like."
He ground his teeth for just a moment, not really liking her condition, but at least he had a promise that she was coming home with him, right then. "Fine. I'll take you to get your car. But I'll be right behind you all the way to my apartment." Her look was sufficient to say she thought his overprotective behavior was ridiculous, but the slight hint of challenge in her eyes only prompted him to take it a step further. "Don't even think about trying to lose me, Bones."
"Be careful, you two," Angela called after them as she turned to enter the building, amusement and worry mingled together in her voice. "See you tomorrow, Bren."
… ooo … ooo …
His cell phone rang the moment - the very moment - he pulled into his building directly behind Bones' car. He recognized the number immediately, worry registering in his face at receiving a call from her at such an unexpected time.
"Rebecca? Is everything okay with Parker?"
To his relief, it was, although everything wasn't really okay with Rebecca. She had an overnight trip planned weeks in advance for work, and her babysitting plans had just fallen through.
Oh, and she was pulling in his apartment building right behind him, and could he please take Parker for the night and drop him off at school in the morning? She'd be back in time to pick him up the next afternoon.
Ordinarily, he'd be delighted, and a huge part of him still was.
On the other hand...
On the other hand, he wasn't really too sure how he felt about an overnighter with Bones in front of his son before he'd had a chance to even discuss the changes with him, especially when those changes were so new. Not to mention that Parker could come up with some of the most jawdroppingly uncomfortable questions he'd ever heard, which was saying a lot considering who his partner was.
And then on the other other hand, he wasn't really too sure how Bones was going to feel about that either. The very image of them living as a family together in his apartment for even one night might have her online looking up tickets to Guatemala faster than he could even spell Guatemala. He needed time to prepare her for this...like six months on his knees in prayer to whatever saint was the patron saint of brainwashing.
But, of course, Bones and Rebecca were already parked on either side of him, both already emerging from their cars, so he wasn't going to get that chance.
Yeah. This was going to be fun. Like brain surgery type of fun.
TO BE CONTINUED...