Wednesday 7am


When the alarm sounded Brennan lay in bed for a few minutes trying to work out why she felt so strange. She remembered the evening before, all the emotional turmoil of working on a body she had been told might belong to a colleague and dear friend. She remembered...

She sat bolt upright in bed. Booth!

She jumped up, headed for the door, dashed back to pick up her robe, then hurried out of the bedroom. Booth was exactly where she had left him, still looking pale and weary even in his sleep. She stood for a few moments just watching him, satisfying herself that he was still breathing, before she headed back to her room and got herself ready for the day.

She made two cups of coffee, and sat them both down on the coffee table, then bent and very gently touched Booth on the arm, being careful to avoid his injured shoulder.

He groaned and tried to turn away.

She persisted, calling his name softly, and eventually was rewarded by his eyes opening and staring blankly up at her for a moment, before widening in recognition. "Bones!"

He tried to sit up, then gave up and lay still for a moment just looking at her.

"I'm sorry to wake you," she said. "But I really need to talk to you. I need to know what's going on, before I go to work."

"Work?" He sounded half asleep.

"Or I could stay home with you," she added, suddenly reluctant to let him out of her sight.

"No." He shook his head. "You must pretend you haven't seen me. No-one must know I'm here. They mustn't know I'm still alive. Not until I've figured out what to do."

He made another attempt to sit up, and this time, with assistance, he made it to a sitting position. He gratefully accepted the mug of coffee she held out to him.

Brennan sipped at her own coffee, looking over the top of the mug at her friend. "Are you going to let me know what's going on?"

Booth nodded slowly. "Someone has been raiding a lot of banks in the area," he started.

He hesitated, trying to think of the best way to explain things. "I was investigating both the crimes themselves and the disappearance of the previous agent who was investigating. I thought I'd found their headquarters, near where we found that body you were working on last week."

Bones nodded. "You were waiting for an identification, then you never came back."

"The notes in the file said that a warehouse in the east of town was a possible site for a meeting. I went out there, but it was a trap. They captured me," - he indicated the marks on his wrists – "but I managed to get away by jumping through a window. I think they were startled by sirens nearby. I ran and hid, and they couldn't find me. In the end they torched the building and left. They knew they hit me with a bullet, and they hoped I was lying unconscious and bleeding nearby, I think. I don't want to do anything to make them think any different. Not until I figure out who I can trust."

Bones looked at him quizzically. "And that's a problem how?"

"Because someone has been feeding these guys information. They know exactly how the investigation's going, how close – or far away – we are. They set a trap for me, Bones, and I walked right into it."

Bones sat looking thoughtful. "That agent you were looking for? Was it Agent Cotton?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"His body was found, possibly in the same warehouse you're talking about. It was recovered after a fire over the weekend. We were told it might be you."

Booth was quiet for a moment, contemplating the loss of a colleague. He thought of Bones and the team, as well; he could not imagine what it had been like for them, working on a body they thought was his. He shook his head. "I thought he must be dead. I'd hoped – but this is a nasty case. Cotton's partner was killed a few months ago working on this. Cotton had his suspicions, I think, that there was an inside informer, but he didn't know who. That's what got him killed." He looked straight at Bones. "I don't intend to make the same mistake."

"So I need to do what?" Bones asked him. "Go to work as normal? Pretend I still think you're missing?"

He nodded. "I know it will be hard, Bones. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do. I still need to rest, and now I really am hungry. Let me sleep and eat, and tonight maybe we'll figure out where I go from here."

Bones stared into her coffee mug. "Working on a body I'd been told was yours, that was hard. Compared to that, keeping your presence a secret will be a walk in the park."

Wednesday 9am

It was hard.

From the moment when she'd walked into the med-lab and greeted the rest of the team, she'd been the object of suspicion.

"What's up?" Angela had demanded.

"Up? Nothing's up, I'm fine," Brennan assured her.

"That's what I mean. We spent all yesterday evening thinking Booth was dead. Now you're fine?"

"Oh." Brennan thought fast. "I feel much better for a good night's sleep, I guess. You're right, Booth must be okay, just too busy to check in. After all, he's used to living dangerously." And she had thrown herself headlong into the pile of work on her desk, keeping her head down and hard at work. She avoided the others for as much as possible and tried to look downcast whenever they looked at her. She felt guilty that she knew Booth was safe and they didn't, but fear for Booth's safety made her respect his request and keep quiet - for now.

Eventually, the rest of the team must have decided that she was merely making a good job of hiding the strain she felt, because they busied themselves bringing her coffee all morning. They all worked steadily on Agent Cotton, finding out any scrap of evidence they could about his death and the time shortly before. Agent Harris dropped in mid-morning to enquire about the investigation, but Brennan found it hard to face him, with Booth's words echoing in her ears. Angela sensed her reticence, while not understanding the reason for it, and jumped into the breach, prompting Zack and Hodgins into explaining their findings while Brennan sat and seemingly doodled on a sheet of paper.

Wednesday 12.30pm

At lunchtime Brennan made an excuse and slipped away from the lab for a while. She told the others that she'd left some files at home, and needed to fetch them.

As she turned the key in the lock of her door she held her breath, terrified for a moment that he would be gone, but he was standing in the doorway to the kitchen looking at her. "I saw your car outside," he said by way of explanation. "I wasn't expecting you back."

She held out the files she was carrying. "I thought you might like to look at these."

"What is it?" He held his hand out and she handed over the paperwork.

"It's a copy of the files on both Agent Cotton and the guy you wanted the id on from last week."

He sank down onto the couch and started flicking through the files, his face grim. "Thanks. They might help me figure out what's going on." He glanced back up at her. "Hope you don't mind, I grabbed some food from your freezer."

"No problem. I'd better be getting back. Please, help yourself to anything you need. I should have said earlier."

At the door she looked back. His head was down, and he was absorbed with the files he held on his lap.

Wednesday 3.30pm

Brennan's phone rang on her desk just as she was in the middle of another conference with the others. "Hold on," she said to them, and picked up the phone. "Dr Brennan."

"Bones. It's me." Booth's voice was unmistakable, and Brennan felt her face flood with heat. She looked up at the others.

"Please, I have to take this," she said. "It's private – it won't take long."

Puzzled, they stood up and left, looking over their shoulders at her. She shrugged and half turned her back on them.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I need to talk to Angela. I need her help. She may hold the key to this, or at least be able to help me find it."

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