I apologize to those who pointed out that the story is listed as complete, yet not all the chapters are up. There's one more after this, and I will get it up as soon as I can. Thanks for reading!

Chapter Four

"Hannah Bentz, age fifteen. Missing for three weeks." Reported Brennan. The image now on the computer screen was of the girl from Booth's first photograph: brown hair, blue eyes, slim.

"Again, not the same girl in this picture." Booth held it up. "Not even close."

The girl in the newest picture was older, closer to eighteen, with short black hair and brown eyes.

"Wait," Angela started, "when we checked the missing persons archive before, Hannah Bentz's name didn't come up. Suddenly, a day later, we're able to find her. What gives?"

"Hannah was an emancipated minor." Brennan explained. "No one reported her missing until just yesterday."

"Which means the girl in this second picture may not have much time left." Booth surmised, adding grimly, "If she's still alive at all."

"Do the girls have any commonalities?" inquired Brennan. Angela quickly scanned Kayla's file, then Hannah's.

"Yeah." She replied. "They both attended West Payton High School."

"Where Kayla's body was found." Hodgins said.

"There's a good chance the girl in the second picture is a student there as well." Zack concluded.

"I'm on it." Booth walked out from the lab, destined for the school. Thankfully, Brennan mused, he didn't ask if she wanted to join him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Half-way through the day, waiting on results, Brennan managed to lie down on her office couch and try to, as Angela put it, 'catch some Z's'. There was so much to do, but the lack of sleep she'd had for the past two nights was slowly taking its toll. And if the anthropologist wanted to stay sharp for the case, a quick nap wouldn't hurt.

Within minutes of closing her eyes, Brennan was met with intense flashes; frightening images. Room. Booth. Gun. Fear. Confusion. Hurt. Pain.

She jerked herself awake, gasping. Even simply closing her eyes brought on nightmares now. There wasn't much more Brennan's fragile being could take.

Angela casually strolled in. "Brennan?"

"No!" shouted the doctor before she realized who it was.

Angela stood in the doorway, stunned. "'No', what?"

Brennan put her head in her hands, attempting to pull herself together. "It's not going away, Angela."

"What isn't?"

"The dream. It's getting worse. I'm convinced it's being here; in the lab, in the city, around Booth all the time."

The artist frowned. "What do you suggest?"

"You have a name for them…'highway adventures'?"

"I believe the term you're going for is 'road trip'."

"Yes."

Shaking her head gravely, Angela reported, "Booth called and said a third body was found; probably the girl from the second picture. He needs you. There's no way you can just up and leave."

"Everything's becoming disillusioned," Brennan argued. "And my relationship with Booth has already become so fractured…"

She crossed the room to her friend. "Will you come with me? We can drive to the country and stay for a couple of days. I just need to clear my head."

"Didn't you hear me?" Angela asked. "That girl needs to be identified, and we need to stop her murderer."

"Angela, please." Pleaded Brennan. "You know me. Would I even consider leaving if all was well?"

After a moment, Angela shook her head again. This was definitely something Brennan needed. Work was all encompassing to her, held meaning, and to want to get away so badly was big.

"We could get in so much trouble." The artist said. "We could lose our jobs."

"This from the woman who lives on the edge and tries to get me to do the same?" Brennan allowed herself a hint of a smile. Angela joined suit.

"What the hell. At least we'll go down in flames together."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Booth got tired of waiting for Bones to call him back (after numerous attempts at calling her cell were fruitless), the agent tried Angela again.

And since she didn't feel the need to answer either, Booth got worried. Hadn't he just called her and gotten a response? Surely Bones couldn't have convinced her friend to ignore Booth via phone as well…could she?

"Agent Booth, we've come across that picture you told us we might find." One of the officers on the latest crime scene informed him. He handed the photograph to the impatient Booth.

A single look at it made his blood run cold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So, what's the name of this place you booked us in all of twenty minutes?" questioned Angela.

"Koko Motel," Brennan replied, watching trees pass by the window of her friend's car.

"Cute." Angela turned left, down a worn gravel road leading toward their destination. Upon parking and unbuckling, she turned to Brennan. "What names are we under? 'Temperance and Angela'?"

"Definitely not." The doctor hesitated. "'Deli' and 'Tesco'."

"Okay," said Angela slowly. "Do I want to know why?"

Taking a deep breath, Brennan explained. "It means 'to hide' in Latin."

Nodding, the artist said, "Very clever. And a little bit morbid."

Ignoring her friend's Look, Angela went to get their key. While she was gone, Brennan allowed Logic to work its way back into her brain. She had begged Angela to basically go on the run with her, risked both their jobs, alienated the few friends she had, jeopardized whatever sanity she had remaining, and…made a complete and utter mess of things with Booth. Was it worth all of this based on the minute possibility that she would die at her partner's hand?

Then Angela returned, and once again, Brennan pushed Logic aside. "The sun's setting, and it's been a long drive." Angela stated. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but, wanna turn in for the night?"

Brennan hadn't noticed the slow-spreading darkness, but the realization did make her slightly drowsy. She nodded and the two went to gather their bags from the back of the car.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The same indescribable room. The same ache in her knee. It was happening again: Brennan was holding up her hands and willing Booth not to shoot with every fiber of her being.

"Why?"

But never did the man give her an answer, and that made his actions all the more bewildering. He shot her once again.

Only, instead of forcing herself awake, Brennan was being shaken. Slowly, she opened her eyes and could make out Angela's form, next to the nightstand. She had turned on the lamp, and Brennan could see how worried she appeared.

"Don't tell me you had it again." Angela said.

Brennan bit her lip and nodded. Angela sat on the edge of her friend's bed.

"I kept hearing you ask 'Why?' in your sleep."

Brennan looked her in the eye. "I thought it would stop, if I got away. I thought…"

Angela hugged Brennan, who took deep breaths to keep herself from breaking down. The artist pulled away after a minute, regarding Brennan sadly.

"Honey, you know that I'm your friend, right?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"And you know that I love you like crazy. But I can't do this anymore, and neither can you. This dream has spiraled way out of control. Maybe…" She hesitated. "Maybe you should talk to someone."

"Are you saying I should find a psychologist, Ange? You know I hate psychology."

"Yeah, I do. But even you have got to admit, Bren: it can't go on like it has. Because this thing has completely changed who you are."

Hugging her knees to her chest, Brennan sighed, admitting defeat.

"Good. I'm calling Booth, then."

"What? Ange, no." Pleaded Brennan.

Angela rose from the bed. "He's a better idea than a psychologist. And if you want all of this to go away, go to the source."

Brennan played with a string on the bed's comforter. "Alright."

Glancing at the clock, Angela amended, "Except, calling him at 3:30 in the morning might make him less than understanding."

"Agreed."

The dark-haired woman began picking up the clothes she had tossed on the nearby chair earlier. "What are you doing?" Brennan asked suspiciously.

"Packing. I'm going to drive back to my apartment and give Booth a call at a decent hour. He'll come here to get you, and the two of you can clear everything up on the drive back."

"Angela, I don't believe that's an effective solution."

"TS, babe."

Ignoring her friend's question of what exactly 'TS' stood for, Angela finished gathering her things. She left quickly thereafter.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brennan couldn't go back to sleep, and in all honesty, wasn't quite sure she wanted to. Luckily, being out in the backwoods, away from clusters of people, there weren't 'bumps in the night' to make her feel any more threatened than she already did.

Watching the sunrise was the only positive thing about losing sleep. Brennan couldn't recall the last time she'd seen one, where she was really taking it in. The drawback, though, was how much time she had to think. And come to the conclusion that Angela was right (something she wasn't used to admitting about others, even to herself).

When the morning light streamed in through the motel windows, the scientist decided to shower and dress. She knew that as soon as Angela phoned Booth, he would be on his way. That she didn't doubt for a second. Might as well be ready to face the inevitable, she thought.

Emerging from the bathroom afterwards, Brennan thought it best to swiftly pack her belongings, few thought they may be. Just as she bent to retrieve her overnight bag from beside the bed, she heard a noise; something shuffling around. Brennan wouldn't be the least bit surprised if a mouse or some other small animal had gotten in. The motel was surrounded by trees, after all. Then, she heard it again—faint, but distinct. However, that sound was overshadowed by a slamming car door and hurried footsteps coming from outside. Brennan turned to the door just as it was forcefully kicked in.

Now her nightmares came to life. Booth stood ominously in the doorway, his gun at ready. Thinking she could make a run for it, Brennan bolted for the back door—only to trip unceremoniously over the bag she hadn't gotten the chance to pick up. She fell forward, her right knee colliding with a small desk. Brennan had to suppress the urge to stop and rub the pain away. She faced her partner, kneeling on her good knee. Whether from pain of fear, she couldn't tell, but a tear slid down her cheek. And before she could stop herself, the words flowed automatically from her.

"Why are you doing this?"

Booth stared at her coldly, tightening his grip on the gun. But just as Brennan thought her dream would become reality, Booth commanded,

"Bones, get down!"