Title: Deja Vu
Disclaimer: Language, violence
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Chapter Twelve: When I'm Gone
Booth busied himself with cleaning up his apartment. It had been a while since he had actually spent any time doing the tasks that most people did daily. Tasks that got put on the side burner while he worked his job. Being an FBI agent could be tiring but he loved his job. Well, he didn't much care for that part when he had to tell people that their loved ones had either died or been up to no good. Now he found that he had the whole day to do whatever his heart desired, and he spent that time cleaning. The dishes in the sink needed washing but he threw them in the dishwasher without first rinsing them off. When the buzz of the machine started he started collecting up the trash and recyclables. No matter what a guy did for a living a bachelor pad always looked the same, trashy and unkempt.
After cleaning the kitchen and picking up all the trash the place looked greatly improved. Going over to the closet he pulled out a rubber tote and began loading all of his son's toys into it. They'd been scattered all over the floor since the last visit, which had been about two weeks ago. Booth was tired of tripping over the little red fire truck every morning. After disposing of the toys, back into the closet, he ran the vacuum and sprayed some air freshener. It took him three hours to get the apartment in order. It would be another few hours yet until Brennan got off work. She had said that she wanted to come over tonight, but would she bother to show up? After driving off the way that she did, Booth had his doubts. Still, she was an unpredictable person. She could very well show up just like she had said.
Going through the cabinets Booth found that he didn't really have anything to offer her for dinner. That meant he would have to take a run down to the grocery store. And even if she didn't show, he should still have more food in the house. Having made up his mind he grabbed the car keys off the counter and headed for the door. His doctor had told him to take it easy, that his body had dealt with a shocker. He felt fine, though. A little bit on the bored side but that would be over soon. He trudged down the stairs, feeling light as a feather, floating on cloud nine. Maybe the dinner had been a good thing. Maybe, just maybe, Brennan had finally seen him in a new light. This could be the night of his dreams.
The black SUV that belonged to the FBI sat in its familiar spot with its black coat shimmering in the sun and its government license plates easy to read. He hopped behind the wheel and started the engine. Pulling from the parking lot he headed toward the grocery store he always shopped out. It would only take him a few minutes to pick up the things he needed. No one would ever know that he left the house. He'd be back way before Brennan's shift ended at the Jeffersonian. Pulling up to the grocery store he parked the car and climbed out. The place was humming with mothers and teenagers, nothing out of the ordinary. He had been hoping that the drive and the shopping would keep him from being bored but it didn't look like things were going to work out that way.
He was trying to figure out what to serve for dinner when he saw that the hamburger was on sale. Thinking over the recipes he knew off the top of his head he decided to make an old family favorite; Shepherd's Pie. Next he picked up a bag of potatoes and some canned corn. Before going to the checkout counter he grabbed a case of soda and some bottled water. He didn't want to bother getting any alcoholic beverages because it just didn't go with the meal. Plus, he didn't want Brennan to think he was trying to lay her or something by getting her drunk.
His little side trip, shopping and driving included, had only taken him about an hour. They say that time flies when you're having fun, but when you're bored, it moves like a snail. Not sure of what to do with his time he placed the bags on the counter, dropped the keys next to them, slipped out of his shoes, and went to the couch. There he lay down, propping his head up on some pillows. A little nap wouldn't hurt anyone, and it would pass the time a lot quicker than sitting up wondering what to do. He closed his eyes, ready to drift off for an hour or two.
A banging at his door woke him with a start. He looked at the clock on the VCR and saw that he'd been asleep a lot longer than he'd planned. There was a great chance that the person at the door was Brennan, and he didn't even have dinner started. Now he would have to cook and entertain at the same time. It had been a while since he'd done that. Climbing up off the couch he made his way to the door. The person outside was pretty insistent that he answer.
"I'm coming," he grumbled, trying hard not to sound angry. Brennan was not the type to knock down a door.
He pulled the door open and looked at the figure standing outside. He didn't recognize the person. Something told him he should have but he wasn't sure what it was. The figure smiled at him, showing off perfectly white, even teeth.
"Something I can for you?" Booth asked. "After all, you didn't just about knock down my door to smile at me. What do you want?"
Sure, he sounded mad but he had every right to be. Brennan would be along shortly and he wanted to get dinner started. He had to brown the hamburger, and peel and chop the potatoes before putting them in a pot of water to soften them. There wasn't time for stupid little things like this. The person just continued to smile at him.
"Look buddy, I'm busy. I've got company coming and you're wasting my time," he said, as he began to close the door. A foot and a strong arm kept him from completing the task.
The figure from the hallway pushed its way into the apartment, shoving the door back into Booth and knocking him off balance. He heard the door slam shut and watched as the figure pulled something from his pocket. To Booth it looked like a long, sharp needle with some sort of liquid inside. His mind was foggy, having been hit in the head with the edge of the door. Where had he left his gun? Was it on the shelf above the plant his ex-wife had given him as a housewarming gift? Or was it locked up in the drawer of the coffee table? It didn't matter. There wasn't any time to look. He felt the needle pierce his skin as whatever liquid inside was injected into his body. After that he didn't remember anything else.