Angela Montenegro sat down in the chair in front of her best friend's desk and crossed her legs gracefully. She didn't take offense when Brennan continued to type furiously without acknowledging her presence. Angela had become accustomed to Brennan's tendency to get absorbed in a task. That, however, didn't mean she allowed herself to be ignored.
"So Sweetie," she said, tapping on the desk distractingly. "Computer's alright?"
Brennan continued typing for a second, mouth slightly open before responding.
"I'm resetting all my passwords," Brennan explained.
The frenzied typing and clicking commenced. Angela sighed and yanked on the keyboard. Brennan looked up in surprise.
"Think you could take a two minute break to talk with your best friend?" she asked patiently.
Brennan took her hand off the mouse and leaned back in her chair. Though she was bad at reading people, she had known Angela for a long time and she could sense a slight tension about her.
"What's wrong Ange?" she inquired, her tone conveying concern.
Angela sighed as she looked across at her friend.
"Did the FBI guy check your computer out?" Angela backtracked casually.
Brennan gave her a confused look.
"He said that someone obviously hacked into my computer, but none of the information from the case had been touched," she said slowly. "You came here to discuss my computer problem?"
Angela hesitated.
"No I didn't," she said slowly.
When she didn't elaborate, Brennan stared at her pointedly. Again, Angela sighed. These conversations usually didn't end up going her way.
"I talked to Booth," Angela began cautiously.
She gaged her friend for any type of reaction, but Brennan's face remained neutral.
"And?" Brennan prompted.
"He told me you found a police officer dead at the crime scene," Angela stated bluntly. "With a warning note."
Angela tried to get Brennan to focus on her, but her eyes were back on the computer screen again.
"That's right," Brennan said as she resumed typing. "Booth should be having the note sent over soon so we can analyze the handwriting, paper, and ink-"
"Sweetie just listen, okay?" Angela interrupted.
Brennan stopped typing but still didn't make eye contact. Angela didn't let this discourage her.
"This is what happens when cases start to go bad Bren," Angela said softly. "And organized crime cases are bad enough to start with."
"I know Ange," Brennan replied.
They fell into silence. Brennan stared at the corner of her desk. Angela bit her lip, knowing Brennan wasn't going to like what she was going to say next. But she had to say it anyways.
"Maybe you should stop doing fieldwork on this one Sweetie," Angela suggested, her words coming out in a rush. "Just stay safe in the lab, with the rest of us."
This time Brennan did make eye contact, swiveling her head around quickly. Her mouth opened in protest.
"Ange..." she began, her tone defiant.
Angela put a hand up to stop her from arguing her point.
"I know you're not going to listen, but I had to say it." Angela said wearily. "But just listen to what I have to say, alright?"
Angela's tone was thick with emotion. Brennan leaned forward to reach out to her friend, but Angela stopped her with a shake of her head.
"You're not a cop Sweetie," Angela told her. "You aren't supposed have your life out on the line like that all the time."
She paused to take a breath.
"Whenever you get involved, bad stuff happens Bren. Kenton... New Orleans... Epps... the Gravedigger..." Angela sighed. "You've been lucky before Sweetie. It's not always going to be that way."
Angela thought she saw something flicker in Brennan's blue eyes, but it was covered up quickly. Brennan gave Angela a small, understanding smile.
"I get scared sometimes too, Ange, but it's not like I'm wandering around on my own." Brennan said complacently. "I've got Booth with me."
Angela shook her head vehemently, refusing to be cajoled.
"Booth won't always be able to protect you Bren. I know it. And what's more, he knows it."
Angela's voice shook slightly as she stood up to leave.
"You and I have had this conversation before Sweetie," she said quietly. "I just wish you'd listen before it's too late."
Brennan watched the retreating back of her best friend as she exited the office. Angela walked quickly, her dark hair swaying behind her. Brennan could tell she was upset. She leaned back in her chair, slightly stunned at the intensity of Angela's concern. Did she really have reason to be so concerned?
Brennan contemplated this for a moment before absorbing herself in her computer once again.
The skeleton arrived sometime after five in the evening. When Brennan looked up from the examining table to the clock, she was surprised to find that four hours had passed since then. She tilted her head to work out the crick in her neck, and sat down for the first time since the remains had arrived.
Brennan and her team had thus far managed to match the bullet wound to those of the rest of the victims. Hodgin's soil and insect activity analysis confirmed her preliminary hypothesis that the victim had been dead for approximately twenty years. After gathering particulates, Zach had meticulously cleaned the bones. Angela promised her a facial reconstruction by morning, so hopefully they would have an ID by then.
Brennan had been cataloging previous breaks present on the skeleton. There were quite a few. Also present were signs that this wasn't the first time the victim had been shot. Brennan stood again and lightly pressed a gloved finger on a nick in the left tibia. Another healing bullet wound. She documented the find carefully in her notes.
Her head snapped up when she heard the lab's glass doors slide open. Booth walked in briskly, sliding his security card through and climbing onto the platform.
"Everyone gone home?" he asked her, as he walked over.
Brennan thought back. She vaguely remembered her coworkers wishing her goodnight as they trailed off one by one. She nodded affirmative to Booth and focused on the remains again.
"Aw come on Bones," Booth whined snapping his fingers in front of her face. "Don't ignore me. You've probably been hovering over these remains the past five hours. Let's go get a bite to eat. It's his turn to be ignored."
She looked up to convey her annoyance, but Booth was smiling so insistently that she merely rolled her eyes and leaned her arm against the examining table, giving him her full attention.
"Give me a good reason to ignore him," she challenged, a slight smirk on her face.
Booth laughed at her sauciness but steered her away from the table nevertheless.
"It's nine o'clock at night Bones and I'm offering food," he said firmly. "That's reason enough to ignore him. You work too much."
Brennan put her hands on her hips and gave him a defensive glare.
"You're being hypocritical Booth," she said motioning to his professional attire. "You've been working late too."
He ran an exhausted hand over his face.
"Yea, well, when a cop gets murdered at a crime scene, it tends to stir things up a bit Bones." he told her flatly.
Her eyes softened at this. Booth seemed genuinely worn out. He watched as she put away all her work and began shutting down the lab. Her movements were mechanical and automatic but he noticed that she seemed distracted in a way. He followed her to her office when she finished covering up the remains for the night.
Booth leaned against the doorway as she gathered up her things.
"You worried?" he asked gently.
Brennan's eyes flickered to his and then back to her bag.
"About what?" she replied stubbornly.
He sighed as she brushed past him, switching off the lights.
"About what happened at the crime scene... the dead cop... the note?" Booth said exasperatedly.
Brennan slowed her brisk pace and allowed Booth to catch up with her.
"I'm not worried..." she said slowly.
She left the sentence hanging. Booth looked over at her as they continued their way out of the building.
"But?" he prompted.
Brennan sighed, her shoulder lifting and dropping as she released the breath. She turned her head to meet his gaze.
"But Angela is," she finished.
Booth nodded understandingly and placed his hand lightly on her back. They exited into the parking garage in silence, each caught up in their own thoughts. Booth walked Brennan to her car, but when he turned to find his own, she stopped him.
"Booth..." she said tentatively. "Are you worried?"
He shook his head and cracked a cocky grin that felt fake.
Not for myself anyway... he thought, watching Brennan reciprocate with a small smile and enter her car.
Booth and Brennan sat facing one another in the diner as always. The diner was mostly empty, but for a few others that they vaguely recognized as being regulars also. Despite the tension left over on their faces from the strain of a long day, it was easily discernible that each of them took comfort in this little tradition. Even an outsider could see that although they rarely touched, there was intimacy in the way they ate together- the way they each respectfully allowed the other to take the first few bites of their meal before their forks began straying to one another's plates.
"So," Booth said as he jabbed his fork into a slice of cucumber from Brennan's salad. "This guy is definitely one of our victims?"
Booth watched as she finished chewing and tilted her head in that way that always caused his eyes to stray down her neck.
"Nothing we've seen thus far suggests otherwise," she said carefully. "I'll be able to confirm it first thing in the morning."
Booth nodded and forced his eyes back to his food.
"Did anything turn up from the crime scene?" Brennan asked.
"Not much," Booth replied, shaking his head. "The CSI crew took a cast of the footprint, combed for evidence, took pictures..."
He trailed off.
"But there wasn't much there," Brennan concluded for him.
He nodded.
"The FBI will have the police officer's body to the lab in the morning." Booth told her.
"Cam should be able to give us something from the autopsy," Brennan said. "Maybe the size of the bullet wounds will match those of the skeletal remains."
Booth shrugged.
"It's possible," he conceded. "Whoever decided to leave us that little warning has got to be involved somehow in the murders."
Brennan's nose wrinkled as thought over what Booth just said.
"It's been twenty years..." she said slowly. "The gang doesn't even exist anymore."
"No," Booth agreed. "But its members still do. And I bet you anything that right now, they're getting desperate to keep these murders from coming to light. They've gotten away with it for twenty years..."
Booth pointed his fork for emphasis.
"Twenty years ago, these men were young and stupid. They probably had nothing to lose," he told Brennan seriously. "But now they have lives... they have everything to lose. And that makes them dangerous."
"Them?" Brennan asked. "You think there's more than one person involved?"
Booth grunted noncommittally.
"These men know that once we gather enough evidence on these bodies, they're all going down together," he replied, plunging his fork into his steak dramatically.
They both were silent for a minute. Brennan distractedly stirred her drink with the straw, causing the ice to clink against the edge. When she looked up to level her eyes with Booth's, she seemed troubled.
"Do you think they'll try to stop us?" she questioned, purposefully keeping her voice nonchalant.
Booth wanted to say something reassuring, but with Brennan, he knew that the truth was always the way to go.
"No doubt in my mind," he replied honestly.
Brennan nodded. They locked eyes for a minute. Booth's eyes searched Brennan's thoroughly, but he was certain that there was no trace of fear in them. And that, in turn, made Booth very afraid.