(The Blackout in the Blizzard)

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I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

Sitting in her office, working on some new software that might help enhance her Angelatron, Angela was surprised when her computer screen grew dark, came back on with a light yellow color and a few words in black that appeared on her screen: Hey Pookie!

"Not you again." Angela responded. Quit calling me that. That is not my name.

You really need to do something about your firewalls. If I can break in then so could someone else. You're better than this.

Her cheeks scarlet in color, Angela huffed. I'm cautiousness enough to use this computer to just write code on and that code will be transferred to a stand alone computer. This computer isn't attached to anything important. I isolated this computer from the Jeffersonian servers. This computer is using my special server, so I'm not as careless as you think I am.

Well good for you. You're learning and I approve. Just make sure you don't transfer malware to another computer from this one.

His or her message seemed a little condescending to her. What do you want?

I'd like the world to be a little less scary, but it doesn't seem like I'm going to get my wish anytime soon.

You did help me and my friends shut down Kitchen and King. Gale Storm got justice and that might have taken longer if you hadn't sent me a copy of the letter. Angela had set up a few traps on her computer and she hoped that would allow her to eventually be able to track down whoever this was. The more he talked to her, the more confident she felt that she would find out who her hacker was.

I'm retired. I have a lot of time on my hands. If I was younger, I'd probably try to ask you out, but I know you have a boyfriend. A rich one at that.

Hoping to keep him online for a bit longer, Angela continued to respond. How did you find out about the letter to Wayne Kitchen? Does the proof that Felicia Evans had on Wayne Kitchen still exist? Do you know if Gale Storm had a copy? Is that what got him killed?

My my a lot of questions, but unfortunately I can't give you the answers. I'm still working on tracking down whoever wrote the letter to Kitchen. If I find anything I'll pass it along, Pookie.

Stop that! My name is Angela. She was getting angry, very angry.

I've been watching you try to track me down for the last few minutes. You're good, but not good enough. Pax Pookie.

The connection was broken and once she checked her programs, she found out that her guest had covered his tracks quite well. Frustrated, Angela crossed her arms against her breasts and stewed over what had happened. It seemed ridiculous that there was someone out there that knew her real name, but she didn't know who he or she was. She needed to up her game. She was good at what she did. She just needed to find a way to track down her tormenter. "Yeah, that's all."

Oooooooooooooooooooo

Booth, Brennan and Sweets pushed the baseball stadium seats into the garage. Once the door was pulled down, they hustled back to the SUV in the swirling snow and once everyone was seated Booth pulled back out into the street. The snow was falling faster and thicker and Booth was worried that driving back to the Lab was a mistake. "Look, why not stay home? Sweets can sleep in the guest bedroom overnight." Before he could say anything further both his and Brennan's phone rang. Pulling over to the side of the road, Booth answered his phone while Brennan did the same. "A case? We're in the middle of a blizzard! . . . Fine . . . We'll be at the Lab in a while. Were just outside our house . . . Yeah."

Brennan's conversation had replicated Booth's. "It would appear that a body has been found and she was suffering from Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever when she died. Chances are the killer was exposed. I need to get back to the Lab as soon as possible."

"Got it Bones." Pulling back onto the street, Booth found the snow to be falling at a brisk rate. "I just hope I can get us there . . . Sweets, once we get to the Lab, you'll have to stay with us. I can't drive you to the Hoover. I shouldn't be driving right now, but this case looks pretty serious."

Since he didn't really have anywhere else to be, Sweets shrugged his shoulders. "That's fine. Maybe I can help."

"I doubt it." Brennan was certain that what they really needed was an infectious disease specialist not a man with a useless degree in a soft science.

Used to Brennan's disdain for his profession, Sweets let it go.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

The blackout had been unexpected and caused a lot of drivers on the road a lot of anxiety. Traffic lights not working, street lights out, the snow swirling and building up on the streets and sidewalks caused most people to slow down to a crawl. Using caution, Booth crept into the Jeffersonian parking lot and was relieved when he was parked next to the stair well. The parking space was reserved for one of the board members, but Booth doubted the man would show up anytime soon. "Bones grab the flashlight in the glove compartment and I'll use the pen light I carry in my jacket pocket. Sweets, follow me. The emergency lights aren't providing enough light. Once we get to the Lab, I'm not sure how we'll get in."

"There's a manual override Booth." Opening the stairwell door, Brennan proceeded up the stairs. "I have the code." Once they were all in the Lab, Brennan went in to the autopsy room to see if she could help Cam. Booth walked down to Brennan's office with Sweets in tow. "I have to make a few phone calls and see if there's anything going on over at the Hoover that I need to know about. Then we can check with Bones and Cam and see if they need help tracking down the identity of the victim."

"I don't know what they can do without power." Sweets sat on the couch with his hands in his jacket pockets. "I think you're expecting a little too much under the circumstances."

Annoyed, Booth pointed at the doorway. "Listen Eeyore, go find Hodgins or Angela and see if they need help. I'll work with Cam and Bones when I'm done here."

"I'm just being realistic, but okay, I don't want to look at the body anyway." Sweets left the office and in the dim light in the hallway made his way to Angela's office. It was occupied by a chilled computer specialist. "Booth wants to know if you need my help." He hated that he could see puffs of smoky air when he talked. "Why don't you have a generator running?"

Moving her scarf away from her mouth, Angela answered the younger man. "Hodgins and Wendell looked at it. They think there's a burned out relay or something like that. They can't fix it. We'll just have to make do with the battery powered lights in the hallways and the offices. We have candles, lanterns and flashlights. Our emergency closet even has blankets if we need them. Cam is a very good supervisor. She upgraded the closet when she took over the Lab. We have a few cases of water and there are a few boxes of granola bars if you get hungry, plus an extensive first aid kit."

"Wow, she is good." Sweets was impressed. Sitting on the chair next to Angela's desk, Sweets tried to figure out what Angela was doing.

"I have a battery pack and I was trying to see if it would recharge the victim's phone, but it won't. Not the right kind of charger and power slot. I wish the phone companies would get together and make the chargers all the same. The variations are ridiculous. Once this is over, I plan to buy a variety of chargers and keep them in my office just in case this happens again."

"Can I help?" Sweets wasn't sure what he was supposed to do to be of use.

"Not really. Why don't you go and see if Hodgins and Wendell need help." Angela glared at the phone in her hand and tried to think of a way to charge the phone.

Curious, Sweets remained seated. "Angela, you and Hodgins almost got married and then it was called off because you were already married. You had to get a divorce and somehow you managed to get it, but you and Jack broke up. Now you two are dating again."

"Is there a question in there somewhere, because I didn't hear one?" Angela was a little annoyed. She wasn't sure where Sweets was going with his line of inquiry.

His curiosity causing him throw caution to the wind, Sweets asked his question. "Are you two ever going to get married?"

"Listen Junior that is none of your business." Angela placed the victim's phone down on her desk. "What Jack and I decide to do will be our decision and we don't want any outside help."

Holding up his hands, Sweets tried to placate the artist. "Okay, just asking. You two have been through a lot lately along with Booth, Brennan and Cam. The pressure you were under while you were trying to find out what was going on with Wayne Kitchen must had been enormous . . . If you need someone to talk to me, my office is always open."

"Thank you, but I'm fine." Angela had been frightened during their last adventure, but now that King was dead and Kitchen was in prison she felt calmer. "We know that someone was manipulating Kitchen and probably King, but right now we're at a dead end. Booth and Danny think we're safe enough. At least for now. They think that whoever was pulling the strings is going to lay low for a while. They probably don't want any more attention at the moment. Especially when Kitchen goes on trial."

"That makes sense." Sweets moved over to the doorway. "I'll go see if Hodgins needs help."

Once the psychiatrist was gone, Angela picked up the victims phone and studied the power slot. She needed to charge the phone to see what calls were made on it. Feeling a little guilty, she decided to check everyone's desk in the Lab. Maybe an employee had a similar phone and had a charger at work.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

Booth sat in the autopsy room and worried about what was going on just a few feet away. "Are you sure we can't get anything from the body . . . Crimean-Congo hemorrhoid fever sounds like some nasty shit." He was nervous about Brennan's safety since she was pregnant and he was afraid that she might get whatever this disease was by being near the victim. "Maybe we should all be wearing masks."

"She didn't die of Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever, Booth. She was strangled." Brennan knew why Booth was being cautious, but she knew it was unnecessary.

Just to make sure Booth understood, Cam interrupted. "Testing revealed viral antibodies, but no active virions which means we are not being exposed to the disease . . . Of course the victim was strangled face to face which means when the victim was strangled she could have coughed aerosolized blood into the killer's face infecting him."

"Damn that's bad." Booth stood up. "We need to know who this is, so I can track down the killer . . ."

Cam interrupted him. "Which we are working on, Booth."

"If that guy is contagious . . ." Booth didn't finish the sentence. They all knew what that meant.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Through the day and late into the afternoon, everyone did what they could to find out who the victim was and then the possible murderer. Booth was amazed at how his team kept coming up with ways to get around the fact that they didn't have electricity to use their equipment. He knew that he was lucky to work with such brilliant people, but he also felt like a fifth wheel. He needed to find the murderer before the scum infected other people, but he had to wait for someone to point him the way. He usually had a lot more input in the case, but they were all working under extreme circumstances and he had to rely on Brennan and the rest of the squints to help him do his job. Once they had learned that their victim had shrapnel wounds, he had come up with the idea of looking in the news for an American that had been blown up in Chechnya four years prior to dying and that had pointed them to their victim. After they had her name it all seemed to fall in place fairly quickly. They had the name of the murderer and where he might be because Angela and Wendell had found a way to get the victim's phone powered up long enough so that she would get a list of incoming and outgoing phone calls.

Once the murderer was under arrest, Booth had to take a side trip to the hospital to get checked out. He was exposed to the virus while arresting Tariq Grazdani for the murder of Anne Marie Weston and he was afraid his exposure could harm Brennan and the baby.

A long day nearing its end, they made their way back home and cooked a quick dinner. They were tired and traveling around in snow chocked streets hadn't helped the situation. Their dinner over, they retired to their bedroom and decided to turn in early.

Lying next to each other, Booth stared at the ceiling and thought about the crazy month they'd had so far. "You know I'll do my best to protect you and the baby. You can count on me."

Puzzled, Brennan rolled on her side and placed her hand on his arm. "You don't need to protect me, Booth. I can protect myself . . . is this about the virus or just me being pregnant? Nothing has changed. I'm your partner. I can do my work and will do it for as long as possible."

He knew that he had struck a nerve, but he was worried. "It's not just the baby, Bones. It's the fact that we still have someone out there that may be interested in me. I don't know why and Kitchen won't say. It's the fact that we ended up exposing a very powerful man who was killed in a plane crash. Was he murdered, I don't know? Will the guy manipulating Kitchen come after us, again I don't know? Then we had a case today that exposed us to a dangerous disease. It's a lot of stuff to take in, but I promise that I have your back and I know I can count on you protecting my back too . . . I love you, Bones. I don't want anything to happen to you or our baby. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you . . . I just don't know."

She knew he was being honest and sincere and that made her love him more. Snuggling next to him, his arm around her, Brennan tried to get Booth to relax. "We can't worry about whoever was manipulating Kitchen. He will either ignore us or make himself known sooner or later. We're aware that he's out there and we are smart enough to be prepared. Everyone at the Lab is prepared . . . we can't live our lives looking over our shoulders, you know that. That isn't a life at all . . . I love you and though we have no control over what will happen in the future I feel that together we will be alright. Like you say, we will protect each other . . . Nothing is going to happen to me, Booth. I am going to have our baby and our lives will go on. Our family is getting bigger . . . we really need to think about a bedroom for the baby. We can turn my office into the baby's room and I can move my desk downstairs into the spare bedroom. The room is spacious enough or we can turn a corner of the living room into my office . . . that might be the better idea. That way you can watch your games in the man cave when I'm writing."

"Or we can move the desk and your bookshelves into the guest bedroom down the hall." Booth sighed. "Pops doesn't visit as much as I thought he would. We can keep the bed, the dresser and the easy chair in the room, but convert the rest of the room into your office. It'll be quieter in that room when you want to write. When Pops is here, you can use Parker's bedroom. I want you to have the quiet you need to write in."

Her man sounded calmer, less unhappy and that had been her goal. "We'll talk about it later, Booth. We have time. We also need to decide what we need to do to create a positive atmosphere for our baby. I think a gender neutral color like light yellow or pale green would be the best color for the walls in his or her bedroom . . . You're tired, I think you need to sleep."

"Yeah, you too." Booth closed his eyes and felt less restless after talking to Brennan. She had a way of calming him down that he had never really understood. He really didn't know what would happen to him if anything ever happened to her, but he would make sure that she was safe and he wouldn't have to find out.

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