Ch. 2

Temperance slowly ascended the darkened stairs to her apartment, irritated at the situation with her car, and wondering to herself how she was going to get to work the following day. She really didn't want to rent a car, nor did she want to ask Angela for a ride, but she also knew she had no other options, short of taking a cab, which could be expensive and inconvenient. The downside to asking Angela for a ride, there was no way she'd be able to work late, and she'd most likely be talked into going out to a club, regardless if it was a weeknight, in Angela's non stop effort to getting her to become more social.

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, she stopped short when she saw something protruding from the center of her door, and because the lighting in the hallway wasn't very bright, she couldn't quite make out what it was from where she stood, so she walked quickly to her door. Upon closer inspection, she was shocked to discover a long hunting knife, jagged edges on the bottom, and a deadly curve on the top of the blade, stuck halfway into her door.

Glancing around, to see if anyone was still lurking about, all she was greeted with was shadows in the hallway. Peering closer at the knife, she noticed how deeply the blade was thrust into the wood. That had to take a good deal of strength to accomplish she though to herself. Idly, she wondered if anyone saw anything, or heard anything. Not likely, the person who did this was most likely male, and probably careful too.

This was all she needed. Now she had to call the police, make a report, and she could just forget working on her book, a nice hot bath, supper and sleep. Well, she wasn't going to make the call from the hallway, she was going inside, she didn't need her neighbors getting an earful in the middle of the night. Plus, it seemed totally illogical that the criminal was still hanging around, waiting for her. She inserted her key into the lock, and was surprised that the door was already unlocked, as there didn't seem to be any pry marks on her door, or near the deadbolt. Swinging the door inward, and groping to the right, she flicked on the interior lights, and gasped.

Her apartment was totally trashed. Papers everywhere, sofa cushions torn, stuffing everywhere, her art was smashed, books strewn across the floor, contents of her kitchen cupboard tossed every which way. Even the blinds on her windows were torn down and demolished. Unlike some other females faced with the same situation, she felt no fear at all, and felt no oncoming rush of hysterical tears, instead she was consumed with anger. Someone intruded in her home, and destroyed her personal belongings, trying to scare her. Well it wasn't going to work. No way.

Tentatively, she stepped over the mess, picking her way into the destroyed apartment. Gazing at the mess the intruder had left for her, she swore and made her way over to the phone, where she called the police. The operator advised her to touch nothing, and someone would be by shortly. Glancing at the answering machine, she noticed the light was blinking. Pressing the button and staring into her kitchen, assessing the damage, she waited for the answering machine to play. At first she was greeted with silence, then the same male voice that was on her work voice mail assaulted her. "You better back off. Back off now, if you know what's good for you" then a click and dial tone, before her machine clicked and rewound the tape. Frowning, she deleted the message and stood there a moment, staring at the machine. It seemed unlikely the person who left the message for her at the lab had her home number as well. Shrugging, she walked to the window to await the police. Darkness engulfed the streets below, highlighted only by streetlamps, casting a glow on the sidewalks winding around her building. She pushed open her window, to let some cool air into her apartment, and the song of crickets drifted up to where she stood.

I should probably call Booth and tell him about this, she thought to herself absently, and then she'd recalled he told her he'd be busy all week working on some case that her assistance wasn't required on. Well, this isn't something the FBI really needs to get involved in; a simple break in is a police matter she told herself, turning as the officer entered her home.

2 hours later…

Temperance Brennan sighed and evaluated her surroundings, which now had fingerprint dust everywhere. The officer in charge, Lieutenant Michael Gonsior, gave her a business card of a local company that did clean ups for situations like this, and he recommended she call them in the morning. He also said he'd be in touch with any leads or other helpful information, however there was no evidence left behind at all. He also said she may feel better staying with a friend or at a local hotel. Smiling politely, and nodding her head at the officer, she accepted the card, and pocketed it. She closed and locked the door behind him. The 24-hour locksmith had come and gone during the time when the officer was searching her apartment, and the crime scene crew dusted for prints. She now had all new locks on her door, and a hell of a big mess to clean up. She was slightly saddened at the loss of her belongings, but she was determined not to dwell on it.

She was not about to bring Angela into this right now either; she'd completely blow it out of proportion. And this was her home, she'd be damned if some intruder would keep her out, she would just clean this up herself. She had certainly handled worse situations than this. She called Goodman's voicemail advising she'd be out of the office the following day (well, this morning, really), and would be in the following day. She also left Angela a message, claiming a migraine.

Spotting her coffee pot beneath a pile of canned goods, she made a pot of coffee, and got started on the rubble in her apartment.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

Special Agent Seeley Booth had finally finished writing the last of some long overdue reports his boss requested, and set it aside to be delivered to his office tomorrow morning. He had been working on a case involving a drug smuggling ring in the DC area, and had been out in the field and not in the office for a while. The last thing he felt like working on was reports and paperwork, but it was a part of the job. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and looked at the lock. Well after 3am. He was getting to be as bad as Bones working this late. Abruptly standing up and stretching, he realized he missed dinner and was hungry. He knew of a small 24 hour Mom and Pop diner he often drove by on the way home. He'd swing in there, grab a bite to eat, and hit the hay.

End ch 2

Well? What do you guys think? Continue? Trash it? BB moments are coming promise!