Originally, I was going to end this story with that last chapter I posted on Thursday without the hated last line. However, when I wrote that last two sentences, something hit me, and I didn't figure out what it was until this morning, where I had to scrap the entire chapter I had managed to scramble up over the weekend. This story might actually end up a lot longer (when I say a lot, I mean a lot) than I thought it was going to be. This story has a new meaning to me, and I promise I will spend every spare minute of my free time working on this until it is complete. I hope you won't be disappointed. And so you know, I think I'm going to make the rest of the story in Brennan's PoV, mainly because it's now her story to hear. If I do decide to put it in someone else's PoV for a bit, it'll be like I've done with the story before now. At least this chapter's longer than most of the chapters I've ever written!
I rolled over in my bed, but quickly turned back over when the sunlight streamed brightly through the shades. I groaned and sat up, not in the mood to let my eyes adjust to the light just yet. I knew my apartment better than the back of my hand and the fact that my eyes were closed wouldn't be an issue. I forced myself out of bed before I talked myself into staying for five more minutes, which would end up being another hour.
Slowly, I made my way towards the bathroom, stretching my arms as I walked. I started planning my morning, with the first thing on my list being that I need to finish up the notes from Booth's and my latest case so I can start on the report and the paperwork that would come with it. Perhaps I should ask Booth if he wants to come over later and bring some takeout so we can do the paperwork together.
Suddenly, my head hit something and I fell backwards onto the floor, my butt and my head both hurting from their separate impacts. I opened my eyes for the first time since waking up to see the ceiling. I growled at the morning and it's working attempts to disorient me this morning. But something hit me, something strange. This wasn't my usual ceiling I was looking at. I turned my head to the right to see a wall that wasn't there before, but a dresser I knew very well. I had found the thing cheap when I moved into my apartment.
I closed my eyes and slapped both of my cheeks to make sure I was wake and not just having a very realistic dream. I opened my eyes and looked at the dresser again. It was definitely mine, but the wall behind it was definitely not. It didn't look like it was going to change back into my wall any time soon though either.
I sat up and found another wall that didn't belong to me, where the bathroom door was supposed to be. I looked around the room, seeing a slightly open door that was where the bathroom seemed to actually be, two more closed doors and a large glass door that was flooding the room with sunlight. My eyes moved over towards the bed I'd never seen before, along with pillows and sheets that weren't mine.
Coffee. Coffee would save me from this... this delusion.
I stood quickly and ran to the nearest door and found a closet full of clothes that I didn't recognize and I didn't care to examine. I turned toward the other door that could lead out of the room, but I froze in utter shock, and backed up a few steps, beginning to hyperventilate.
I hadn't just aged the usual eight hours over night. More like eight years!
I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, "Ok Temperance, someone is just playing a practical joke. Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic..."
I most certainly hadn't been here when I went to bed last night, that was a definite fact. I froze again for a moment, thinking. Just then, I realized I couldn't remember actually going to bed the night before. I couldn't remember anything after going into the Jeffersonian yesterday. I never drink while working, and obviously if I drank last night, it wasn't a lot as I wasn't suffering the normal effects of a hangover.
Focus, I told myself. Focus on the things I do know instead of the things I don't. I've woken up in a room that most certainly wasn't mine, but had my dresser in it. Time had obviously passed, but I couldn't determine just how much, and that could be told from the way I looked. I wouldn't really call myself old, but I'm definitely older than I remember. If it wasn't for the realization of my new age, I might have chuckled at the fact that I still look as good as I did when I remember, just with a few more gray hairs. The gray hair told me that after these years I've still kept my hair it's natural color. If I was to estimate how old I was, I would say late thirties, give or take a few years. At least I didn't wake up fifty.
I shook myself out of the mirror induced stupor, and decided to get from wherever I am back to somewhere I knew. I could always go to Booth's apartment and use it as a safe house if all else failed. However, I realized I needed to know where I was or it would be near impossible getting where I want to go. Instead of checking the rest of the apartment, I decided to check out beyond the glass doors. I grabbed a handle and, thankfully, I glanced down to see what I was wearing. Looking at clothes had taken a backseat to having no idea as to what was going on, but giving people outside a free show certainly wouldn't make the day go any better. To make a long story short, I was wearing only underwear.
I headed back to the closet I had found earlier, glad that I realized what I was in before anyone had been given a chance to see me. That would have raised a whole set of questions I'd be glad to deal with never, ever. I sifted through the clothes and found loads of clothes I would wear to work: slacks, coats, skirts, and several different color blouses. Not really a shock there. But then I realized I had only gotten through the women's clothes. The rest of the clothes were all a man's.
I sighed and headed to the dresser, going through drawers until I finally managed to find a pair of jeans and some white t-shirts. The jeans fit just a bit snugly and not a style I was really used to. The t-shirt was that of a man, and not a small one. I put it on only to find it nearly reaching my knees. At least now I wouldn't be embarrassed by my lack of clothes while I explained about how I had no idea what was going on to the people dragging me away to a mental institution.
I quickly moved across the room, not bothering to go around the bed. I stepped outside and it took only a few moments to realize where I was. I was in the heart of downtown D.C.
"Okay," I whispered to myself. "The last thing I remember, I was talking to Booth on the phone, finalizing a few things about the case and then going into the Jeffersonian. That still doesn't exactly explain why I wake up in a nice apartment in downtown D.C. feeling like I've lost years I don't remember gaining."
By the end of my statement, I realized I was growling the last of the statement than just speaking. Pounding the railing in front of me seemed like a great idea to let off some steam right now, but doing so might alert whoever was around. The steam would have to stay exactly where it was for now. I tried to keep my temper in check by taking a few deep breaths to calm down and slow my heart rate a bit. I went back inside and rested my head against the door jamb and took a moment to try and grasp all that was happening. I need to stop thinking about the problem and start thinking of a solution. I was roughly a decade older than I remember and not far from the heart of downtown D.C. Everything else was unknown, which was not good. Too many things could go wrong. Solutions, Temperance! Not the problems, the solutions! Limited options and limitless possibilities. It was time to stop acting the victim and make who ever was playing this joke on her regret whatever it was that could be going on. I went through the only door I haven't used yet and went into a nice looking living room.
"Okay, I don't know what the hell is going on or who the hell thinks they can do this to me, but I am pissed and want some... answers?"
I glanced off to my left where a small movement had been caught in the corner of my eye and found myself staring into a small pair of blue eyes belonging to a little girl looking up at her from her seat in the middle of a couch. Her face was framed by wavy dark brown hair that fell down slightly past her shoulder blades. She had a bright smile that I swear belongs to someone I know.
"Morning, Mommy!"
That was probably why.
