AN: Whoa! Four reviews and the same number of alerts! Pretty good, guys and gals! Here's the next chapter for you! I decided to name Hodgela-kid! Liam Henry, in honor of my little brother, who's also a Bones fan. Mostly for the bodies and Booth, his eight-year-old self is WAY too manly for the love! ;)
Unidentified Particulates: Chapter Two
Angela Montenegro raked a hand through her wavy, newly highlighted hair, checking her reflection in the mirror as her son, Liam, struggled with the soap dispenser next to one of the bathroom sinks. His striking cobalt blue eyes, almost hidden behind a mop of curly dark hair, glared at the container, almost daring it to make it even harder for him.
Angela would have found it kinda cute, totally picture-worthy even, if Liam's shirt wasn't soaked through and his bare feet on the counter weren't earning glares from the assembled line-up of women behind them.
"I got this.", he replied, giggling as though it was some sort of elaborate puzzle. Angela blamed Hodgins for their son's passion for taking anything, no matter how uninteresting, apart, for nothing but the sake of doing it. It definitely wasn't like he was supposed to learn anything else from last Christmas' pre-disassembled Hot Wheel collection.
Squints.
"Honey. Come on.", she whispered forcefully, ignoring an older mother glowering at the both of them. Just 'cause she didn't give a damn what people thought of her didn't mean she liked being one of those people others actually thought about.
"No!", he cried as she gave him a sharp tug back.
"Liam-", she began, cut off by the raining shower of glass and its accompanying chorus of screams that rung out from behind the bathroom entrance.
"Noooo!", he screamed, as Angela pulled him from the counter and tackled both of them to the floor, just like she and Jack had practiced with the Jeffersonian team during their last disaster drill.
Jack.
The Jeffersonian.
Disaster.
"What?", Brennan murmured in disbelief, still clutching Parker to her chest. Her fingers tightened around the phone, and her voice hitched in disbelief.
"He's gone, Bones. Just a second and...I should've known! Dammit!", Booth said, simultaneously angry and disappointed. They were his people, and this was his case to put away. It shouldn't ever have come this close to them.
"What happened, Bones? What happened?", Parker continued, his voice muffled by the fabric of her sweater. She pulled him closer still, and felt his pulse coursing reassuringly through her hand.
"Booth? Where's Angela?", she asked, her heart cracking (metaphorically, of course) just a little bit at the prospect of her friend's fate.
Liam wailed under his mother's shadowy body, on top of him like a sort of shield. It hurt falling from the counter, and nobody paid attention to him, his cries lost under the shuffle of customers pushing to get out.
Angela scooped him up, pulling him under the sink with her as chaos reigned around them. Purses and bags had been dropped, and the bathroom floor was littered their contents, floating in filthy mud and water. She squeezed tighter into the corner with him, clapping a hand over his mouth as he continued to cry, fat teardrops rolling down his cheeks.
It would help neither of them to be quiet if the psycho with a gun came inside; though she had the inkling feeling he had been perched atop a building across the street, long dead by the hands of someone under Booth's orders.
No.
Please, please, please, let this be some stupid kid who wanted to get on the news, Angela prayed, her salty tears dripping into Liam's hair.
"Want Dad!", he shouted from behind her palm, struggling against her grip.
Brennan parked her hybrid behind the army of Police cruisers, pushing her way past a human roadblock of officers and federal agents, shoving her Jeffersonian ID tag at their faces as she passed.
Booth had to be mistaken. Perhaps Hodgins, Angela, and Liam, had been in the diner, but had escaped any sort of injury running out the back with most of the Diner's other patrons, who were now standing in a line-up before an ambulance, getting Band-Aids and being checked off a list.
She searched for them in the back of the group, running towards a curly-haired little boy wearing an orange shirt, the back of his collar stained with blood.
"Liam!", Brennan shouted as she grabbed his thin arm, pulling him away from the line.
"Who the hell are you? Hey, what the hell, lady, you trying to take my kid? Did my sleaze ball wife put you up to this? God, that bit-", the man from behind them protested.
"Hey! Hey, keep it civil, people!", an officer shouted, stepping between Brennan and the boy's father.
"Ma'am, are you authorized to be here? It's a federal crime scene now, but if you're family, I can show where to wait.", he supplied, as the boy's disgruntled father turned away.
"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan, with the FBI and the Jeff- ", she began to recite, pulling her credentials from her pocket.
"Damn...the Jeffersonian? Aw, hell. With Agent Booth, right?", he asked.
Brennan nodded, following the officer through the crowd.
"You're a forensic anthropologist, right? Damn, we could use one of those for this.", he told Brennan, leading her past the shattered doors of the Diner.
"I'm really sorry, Ma'am. You sure you need to see this? I hear he was one of you guys.", the officer muttered, clearly horrified by the scene before him.
Brennan looked up, her vision suddenly assaulted with the sea of fresh, dark, blood, clinging to the corners of everything before her.
Booth ignored the murmurs on his walkie-talkie, pushing past the diner's assembled customers and staff, flashing his badge at random as he tried to get back in through the back entrance. Angela and Liam hadn't been in any of the counts, hadn't made any calls or texts, and the family car was still in its parking space down the road, shining ominously in the reflection of the cruisers that surrounded it.
They were still here, left behind in the chaos and rush.
He kicked down the door of the men's washroom, and then remembering Parker's early years with Rebecca, did the same to the women's room.
"Angela! Liam!", he called out, rifling through each of the stalls, desperation growing as each one was empty.
"Stud Muffin Booth?", a childish giggle erupted from under the sink counter.
"Liam!", a weak whisper reprimanded. Booth crouched to the floor, feeling past the pipes to the mother and child squeezed against the wall.
"Angela? Hey, buddy, where'd you learn that?", he said gently, as Liam crawled into his arms. He sat the boy on the counter as Angela rose beside him, jaw clenched in terror.
Booth took a quick inventory of Liam's mostly minor injuries, scrapes and bruises that he knew probably came from Angela trying to get him under her when she'd heard the shots. They shared a glance confirming it; both parents that would die for their children.
"How about we get cleaned up, Liam?", Booth asked, trying to be reassuring despite the obvious sadness and anger in his voice.
"I want Dad! Where's Dad!", Liam wondered aloud, swinging his legs from the countertop.
"Booth, where's Jack? Did he...he's outside, isn't he? Go take Liam and get Jack...", Angela stopped mid-sentence, Booth's silence hanging between them.
"Booth? Booth...NO!", she screamed, launching herself at him in complete raging desperation, her body slamming into his, her voice muffled by his broad shoulders.
Liam looked on, reaching for a lock of his mother's hair and tugging it affectionately, just like he'd seen Dad did to say "Everything's going to be fine."
Again, if you want any more, please keep up the TERRIFIC reviews!