AN: Well, here's the next installment. It gets kind of twisty with the words. But it explains where Brennan went, as well as some things about the rest of the team.
Disclaimer: Dear Fox, Please consider the attached story as my application for Staff Writer for your hit TV series Bones. As you can see, I'm pretty brilliant. Even my mom says so. You know you want to hire me.
Too Much Silence
The State Department had set a meeting for the following day. State wasn't required to meet with the FBI about this situation, but Booth suspected it was out of respect for Cullen, who had requested the presence of Brennan's boss and best friend for the meeting.
Angela arrived at the Hoover building earlier than the others with a question for Booth. She hesitated in his doorway, observing the lost man before him. He was slouched in his chair, wearing yesterday's clothes which were seriously wrinkled, and she wondered if he'd even left the office. He was staring intently at a silver picture frame on his desk. He looked like he'd aged a few years overnight.
Knocking on the doorframe as a formality, she stepped into the office and unceremoniously dropped herself into the chair opposite Booth's desk, pulling off her hat and scarf. Booth could tell she hadn't slept since she'd heard the news. He guiltily recalled that he hadn't been the one to call her, but then again, he hadn't known what to do with himself all night.
"Hey." His greeting was quiet, almost too quiet. He looked toward her, but Angela wasn't sure he saw her.
Angela knew Booth was hurting. But she was hurting too. Right now, they were both suffering in their own worlds. So, she came straight to the point. "Why am I here for this meeting? I mean, I appreciate it. I really want to know what is going on, but I don't know why I'm here." Angela shook her head.
Booth's response lacked any emotion. He shrugged, "You get the phone calls too."
Angela was almost frightened at Booth's detachment. She knew he would erupt eventually, and hoped he didn't end up hurting himself – or someone else – in the process. She knew something had transpired between the two before she left, she had the text message to prove it. But she wasn't about to push, not with Bren several thousand miles away.
Interrupting the silence, Cullen stopped in the doorway of Booth's office, "Ready?" He left without a response. Both Angela and Booth looked at each other, and rose, making their way across the bustling office.
In the conference room were several men Booth didn't know. Cullen sat at the end of the long table, taking the place of distinction. Cam sat on his right, with her hands folded in front of her. Booth gave her the once over and snorted; She looks like she's slept. Catching his eye, Cam offered a small smile. Booth stared blankly at her, and shook his head; sitting on Cullen's left with Angela next to him. Cullen, always aware of human behavior, noted with a sad smile where Angela's unconscious allegiances lay.
Booth hadn't seen Cam in a few weeks, and he was glad for that. The few cases in which the FBI needed Jeffersonian help had gone through Zach Addy. Booth had not had much incentive to just drop by the Jeffersonian, now that his Bones wasn't there. The few times he'd been there in the last few months, he'd purposefully kept his eyes away from her dark and empty office. He also rarely involved Dr. Addy in the investigations, only in the recovery of the remains.
Zach, despite being a squint, had understood and voiced his understanding very succinctly. "It's okay, Agent Booth. I understand. Dr. Brennan is your partner. I'm just a temp." To this, Booth had nodded slowly, in a bit of shock at Zach's acute perception. Maybe Zach's not so bad after all, he had thought.
Booth was startled out of his reverie by a man speaking to the room. For some reason, he felt a surge of anger toward the g-men in front of him, as if it was their fault his Bones was missing. His hands balled into tight fists on the tabletop, and he gritted his teeth in an effort to stave off his anger. Angela heard his short intake of breath, and shot him a look, before placing a warm hand over his balled fist.
"Good morning. I'm Adam Hanks, from State. I'd like to assure you that we are doing everything in our power to locate the missing members of our team. A couple of things I'd like to clear up, first, is what our team was doing there."
Booth snorted, Our team? OUR team? Bones is MY partner. Not part of YOUR team!
Angela squeezed his hand, in an effort to calm his raging emotions.
Unaware of the anger seething through Booth, Hanks continued, "Our team was in Nyala, Sudan, in the region of Darfur. As you know, that region has witnessed conflict and devastating genocide. Our team was identifying remains in mass graves, distinguishing between the Fur, Masalit, and Zaghawa ethnic groups, and trying to help get an accurate death toll. Things are still unstable there, but since the Darfur Peace Agreement in May last year, the State Department has been negotiating with the Sudanese Government to get a team in there to recover and identify as many remains as possible. Which is where Dr. Brennan and her team came in."
"The ambush, Hanks. What happened with the ambush? We don't need a history lesson." Booth spit out, through gritted teeth, his fists balling so tight his knuckles were turning white.
Hanks eyes shifted from Cullen, where they'd been locked throughout the speech, to Booth. Hanks could see the barely restrained anger bubbling below the surface.
Speaking smoothly, he replied, "For that, I'll introduce Special Agent Dan Foley with the CIA."
This grabbed Booth's attention very quickly, CIA?
"CIA? Why is the CIA involved? Did you have CIA over there??" Booth had risen abruptly from his seat, slamming his hands palms-down on the table, leaning menacingly forward toward Agent Foley.
Agent Foley stood, calmly. Angela would have thought him handsome, if he had any animation to his face. She noticed his demeanor, his attitude, was different than the men representing the State Department. Foley's face was blank, his eyes shuttered. He gave nothing away. Nothing that he didn't want you to know, anyway.
"Agent Booth. I know these last two days have been trying," Foley started, "but if you will give me a moment, I can explain in one sentence."
Booth sat, anger merely simmering, instead of boiling over. He nodded.
Foley walked deliberately toward Booth, not breaking eye contact with the angry FBI agent. "We had official-cover operatives there specifically to protect your Dr. Brennan. For Bones."
Cullen had to physically hold Booth back to keep him from hitting the CIA Officer. "No one… NO ONE… calls her Bones. But me. Just me. No one… Just me..."
Angela's emotions were raw anyway, but she was brought to tears, and then sobs, just hearing Seeley Booth's voice break.
"Do you have everything, Bones?" he asked as he loaded her duffle into the back of the SUV. "This doesn't seem like much. What about your equipment?"
"Booth, the State Department air-mailed my equipment over a few days after I accepted the assignment. This," she indicated her duffle and her shoulder bag, "is only my personal stuff."
"Right. Do we have time for breakfast? What time's your flight?"
"There's no time Booth, I'm almost late as it is." She was nervous. They hadn't spent much time together in the last month, and she was suddenly aware of all the things that had been left unsaid over the years. It was as if all those unconscious touches and soft words weren't going to be enough to sustain her for the remainder of the year. She blinked back a few tears as she climbed into the truck.
Booth sighed. He only had the thirty minute drive to Dulles International Airport to explain why he had been avoiding her, and why – all of a sudden – he wanted to take her to the airport. He wasn't sure he could explain himself, or even knew exactly what he wanted to say. He wished it were as easy as saying I love you. But the years of denial had prevented him from saying anything about it. It was too late now.
She stared resolutely out of the passenger window. If she looked at him, she might cry. Or worse, she might not get on the plane.
All too soon, they had arrived at the drop-off zone, and all the things she had wanted to say fell away. She was out of time. After loading her duffle onto a trolley, she turned to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes, and she blinked furiously to dispel them.
One glance at her watery eyes, and Booth pulled her into a fierce hug. She relaxed immediately, once again wondering at the way she always felt safe in his arms. If she believed in letting emotions rule, she would have mentioned this to him long ago.
She released a big sigh, which caused Booth to release her. Standing back a step, he held her at arms length, and stared as if memorizing her face. She suddenly felt silly, letting out a small chuckle, "Booth. This isn't goodbye. It's only eight months."
"Okay. I'm not saying goodbye, then. How about see you soon?"
"I'm okay with that." She nodded.
Releasing her shoulders, Booth stepped back again, to return to the car, and Brennan took a chance in that last moment. Whatever came over her, she blamed Angela.
She grabbed a small package from her shoulder bag; she pressed it to his chest, bringing her body with it, whispering in his ear, "Seeley, you're my forever." She placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. All of this happened within a matter of seconds, and Booth did not have time enough – or sense enough – to respond. Whatever came over him, he was blaming shock. Or that damn denial.
She whirled around, and entered the airport, pushing her luggage in front of her. Once inside, she flipped her phone open, using it for the last time while she was still State-side. Her text message was to Angela: I told him that.
Booth, still in a bit of shock, climbed back into the truck, turning the box over in his hands. He pulled the top off; he found a picture frame, and a black and white photo within. The photo showed two people, standing outside of a diner, the man's finger under the woman's chin. He was gazing down at her lovingly, and her look of wonder spoke volumes. Booth remembered that moment as one of the many where he'd almost kissed Bones, and vaguely wondered who took it. It must have been taken through the glass of the diner.
He moved his eyes from the photo to the frame itself. Engraved on the silver frame were the words:
"I believe in forever."
AN: Think Fox will hire me? Too sappy? Damn.