Author's Note: Okay, here's another one! I'm trying to make the story unfold in a logical progression of events without overwhelming you, my readers, with information. :) Thank you everyone for the reviews so far, I really enjoy hearing your thoughts! Reviews are a writer's ambrosia.
Disclaimer: Again, they're aren't mine. Except the crazy one.
Spoilers: None
Hours. They had spent hours combing over the damaged, twisted hull that was Bones' car and come up with nothing. Hodgins had found particulates in the tire that gave them nothing but the assurance that her car had indeed been run off the road where it was found, and had not been planted there. Cam found blood on the steering wheel that she was able to identify as Brennan's, telling them only that she must have hit her head when she crashed to a stop.
Now, well into the night, Booth was standing alone in the very center of his partner's office. He remained standing, immobile, glancing around at her things. Books lined the back wall; her desk looked exactly as she had left it Tuesday. Outwardly, everything pointed to a normal day. None of her possessions reflected the fact that Bones was missing.
Standing there, silent, Booth's mind wandered into the past. He recalled how he had felt upon discovering that Bones and Hodgins had been taken by the Gravedigger. That had been a race against the clock as well, but at least in that instance they had known who had taken them and what he wanted. That wasn't true this time around. Neither he nor the FBI nor any of the squints had been contacted with a demand for ransom, which unsettled him. What kind of murderer had his partner? What the hell did this person want?
"Booth?"
He turned at the sound of his name. Angela was standing in the doorway to the office, her lab coat still on over her clothes. She looked tired, and worried.
"What are you still doing here?" He asked, wondering if it had come out harsher than he intended
"Like I would go home at a time like this," She said simply, "We're all still here. Hodgins and Cam are going over the car again."
He made no response, but mentally he gave himself a good kick. Of course they were all still there - Bones meant a lot to all of these people. On a normal case, the squints worked their fingers to the bone to bring the culprit to justice and lay their victims to rest. When it was one of their own, well … the squints were a good team to have on his side.
"Listen, Booth," Angela began, stepping into the room and sitting hesitantly on the couch, "Wherever Brennan is, she's still alive."
He glanced down at the dark haired woman. For a moment he neither spoke nor moved; then, he took up a seat on the couch next to her. He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his now haphazard hair.
"You know that for certain?" He asked
"Well, not in the way Brennan would say certain," She answered, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips, "But I feel it. I don't know how to explain it - I just know that she's alive."
"Well, Bones is a fighter if ever there was one," He stated
Angela chuckled at that, drawing Booth's attention. He glanced up at her, and though the chuckle had died she was still smiling a little.
"I was just remembering the day I picked up Brennan from the airport. We were in the middle of a conversation and she just turned around and started asking this big guy why he was following us. She dropped him like a five pound bag of potatoes," She told him, chuckling again, "That girl has no fear."
"Tell me about it. Trying to make sure she doesn't run off and get herself shot is a full time job."
"Sometimes I think we're more concerned with her well being than she is," Angela said matter of factly
"Why do you think that is?" He asked
"I don't really know. We could always ask Sweets."
"God no," He said quickly, "The last thing I want to do is give Sweets a reason to rationalize Bones."
"I hate to say it," Angela started, "But I actually think it has to do with her family. She went from having a loving family to being alone in foster care. I think she took their leaving to mean that they didn't care about her anymore, and, well … I think she just got used to not having anyone around to care."
Booth looked over at his companion, at the sad look on her face. He imagined what he thought Angela was imagining: Bones, a young lady alone in the foster system, bounced from home to home. Bones as an adult, spending her days either alone or surrounded by dead bodies.
"Do you think that's why she became an anthropologist?" He asked softly
"I think it has a lot to do with it, yes. She doesn't trust living, breathing people not to hurt her, so she surrounds herself with corpses. I know she loves her work, loves returning the victims to their families, but I think there's more than that."
He could remember with stunning clarity the broken look on her face as she had watched her father and brother driving away, leaving her yet again. In that moment, he had seen first hand the gaping hole left in her heart by the desertion of her family. She hadn't been Bones then, sitting handcuffed to that bench, she had been Temperance. The broken fifteen year old girl, alone against the world. Except, this time, he had been there.
Enraged once more, Booth got to his feet in one swift motion and began pacing in the area in front of the couch. The idea of his partner, alone with some crazy asshole who intended to do God only knew what, made him want to start punching holes in the wall. They had to figure this out; they had to get Bones back. There was no other alternative.
"When I get my hands on that son of a bitch," Booth began to rant, "I'm going to make him wish I'd shot him. But first, I have one question for the sorry bastard: Why her?"
Angela followed his movements with her eyes, but remained seated on the couch. He was clearly agitated, pacing back and forth and clenching and unclenching his fists. She thought he looked about ready to explode, and she could identify with the feeling.
"Why her, Ange?" He asked then, facing her, "Why Bones? What could she possibly have that this person would want? Money?"
"Don't you think if they wanted money they would have asked for it by now?" She countered, "It's been nearly 72 hours. I'm no expert, but if ransom is the reason for a kidnapping, aren't they usually pretty quick to ask for it?"
"Yes. Okay, so it's not money. What else then?"
"Maybe it's revenge," Angela supplied, her mind starting to turn, "Maybe it's someone you guys were responsible for putting in prison."
"The people we catch are murderers, Ange. They aren't likely to be getting out any time soon."
"Okay, how about the family member of someone you put away then?" She continued, "Someone crazy enough to hold the two of you responsible for whatever happened to their family member."
"That's very possible. The only flaw there is the sheer number of people we've caught. It would take days to go through old files and locate the family members, even if we narrowed it to include only immediate family members."
"Brennan might not have days," Angela nearly whispered, what little hope she'd had deflating
The room came alive with a high pitched whine, startling both of them and making Angela jump to her feet. For a few seconds they glanced both around the room and at each other, wondering what the hell the sound was, when Angela rushed over to the desk.
"It's Brennan's fax machine!" She exclaimed
Within seconds Booth was at her side, waiting for the machine to spit the paper out. When it did Booth was the first to snatch it away. His eyes read and reread the words on the page. Angela waited for him to say something, but he remained still and silent.
"Booth?" She prodded, anxious
"Get the squints," He whispered, his voice dead, "Get everyone in here, now."
Terrified, Angela raced out the door and up the steps to the lab where everyone was gathered. They all glanced up at the sound of her approach, the most sound any of them had made in what had to be hours. The look on her face must have startled them, and Hodgins was the first to stand and come to her side.
"Ange? What is it?"
"Booth needs us," She barely managed to say, "In Brennan's office. Come on."
Without argument, Cam and Sweets stood as well and followed her. What could have been seconds or hours after Booth had sent her out, Angela was returning to the office with the rest of their team in tow. Her panic rose another notch when she laid eyes on Booth, who had not moved from his spot by the fax machine.
"What is it, Seeley?" Cam asked, noticing the pallor of his skin
He turned to face them, his movements sluggish and his face devoid of expression. Soundlessly, he held up the piece of paper in his hand. Hesitantly, Cam stepped forward and took the paper from his outstretched hand. Glancing down, her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the words on the page.
"Hello, Seeley," She began reading, "I would start by introducing myself, but you already know who I am. As you have no doubt discovered, your dear Doctor has been kidnapped. Don't worry, I have taken good care of her - so far. Several years ago, Seeley, you were responsible for the death of my only child, a young man by the name of Steven. It has taken me all these years to figure out a fitting way to make you pay for that, but I have. I assure you now, you have lost your beloved partner forever, Seeley. You'll never find her. I don't want money - I just want you to pay for what you've done. Yours."
Cam stopped reading. Her breath left her in a whoosh, and her eyes traveled first to Booth. He had remained silent through her reading, but she could see now that he was even more white than he had been when they'd first come in. Around her, the squints seemed to be in various states of shock. All of them save Angela, however, who was not only ghost white but had tears streaming down her face. The span of several minutes were passed in perfect silence, without even the sound of breathing detectable.
Something in Booth clicked. The feeling of paralysis that had stolen over him dropped away suddenly, and a path opened wide and clear for him in his mind. He pushed away the picture of Bones' face that had invaded his mind, pushed everything out of the way that was blocking that path. He was a man of action, and now there was work to be done.
"Hodgins," He barked suddenly, "See if you can trace what phone number that fax came from. See if you can narrow it down to a certain area at least. Cam, start searching within a fifty mile radius of Bones' apartment for any abandoned or bank owned buildings. Wherever this guy is, he's safely hidden but has access to phone and power lines."
"Booth."
Angela's voice, so tortured and soft, caught the attention of everyone in the room. Booth fixed his eyes on her, watched another tear fall from her dark eyes.
"Who is he?" She asked simply
"I can't be certain without going through my files …"
"Who is he," She demanded again
"His name is Conner Swenson."
"And Steven? What happened to his son?"
"Six years ago, Steven was a new agent at the FBI. Bright kid, good agent. Steven was on my team for a drug raid, his second career bust. We took the house of a low life mobster selling heroine to young kids. We thought he was unarmed, so I gave the command to hold fire. When I turned to give instructions for bringing them in, the guy pulled out a high powered rifle and shot the man closest to him."
"Steven," Angela stated
Booth nodded.
"His father, Conner, blamed me for his son's death. He claimed that if I had just let Steven shoot him, his son would still be alive. He made some small threats, then disappeared."
No one spoke. Angela kept her eyes on Booth, but her gaze was not accusatory. She could see the guilt on his face, the self deprecation he was submitting himself to on the inside showing clearly on the outside.
"Let's get to it people," Cam said then, "We can't be sure what this guy has in mind, and Dr. Brennan is on a time constraint. Let's get this bastard."
Booth threw his former lover a grateful look. They filed out of the office quickly, minds set on the task at hand. He alone lingered, taking another look around his partner's office. Vestiges of Bones littered the room, a silent testimony to her presence. Then and there, alone in her office, Booth sent up a silent prayer. Please, God, he prayed, Let me bring Temperance Brennan home alive.
