A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews. They have inspired chapter 4. I had half written already but I have finally finished it so I hope you guys like it. As always I apologise in advance for any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors. Read and Review! Happy reading :) xoxo

By eleven thirty that evening, as Christine looked around her dorm room, she thought it looked more like a family reunion. As well as Michael, who had stayed with her, her parents stood talking to two police officer's whilst Jack Hodgins stood close by examining the small box for particulates and Michael's mother Angela was seated across the room on Rachel's bed chatting to the red-head, who was now a shade of grey, whilst her eyes darted frantically around the room from one person to another. Christine was over her own nervous breakdown and her breathing had returned to normal. She was slightly embarrassed by her fearful display in front of Michael but he didn't seem to mind and had held her hand for a good half hour, only releasing it as her parents had entered her room, swiftly followed by Jack and Angela. Now Michael sat beside her on her bed silently observing the commotion. Christine's father was the first to speak. "You're not staying here".

"Dad, if the killer had wanted to hurt me, don't you think they would have?"

"I don't care. This person knows where you are. Rachel can stay somewhere else too."

Christine stood in protest. "Dad, our house is miles away and I don't want to miss classes this early on."

"Christine this is not up for discussion." He turned to her mother for a show of parental unity and she nodded her head.

"Your Father's right Christine. It's not safe here."

Sensing the tension, Angela quickly stood. "Christine, your parents are right it isn't safe for you here. But – I know you don't want to be too far away or miss classes so why don't you come and stay with us. It's closer than your house and I'll drive you back in the morning."

Christine quickly weighed the pros and cons. On one hand it was a huge inconvenience and she was already embarrassed by the attention it was drawing to her. Then again, she was seriously creeped out and it would be easy to make it back in time for classes if she went to Jack and Angela's. Plus, her Father wouldn't give this one up. "Okay. Thank you."

"Okay, great. Shall we go? It's getting pretty late."

"Actually Mom," Michael stood up abruptly. "It really makes more sense if I come home too – that way I can bring Christine back here for classes. It's out of your way and it's no trouble for me." He darted a quick glance at Christine and she wasn't sure where to put her face. She was a little taken back by the suggestion but at the same time she felt a little warm glow inside. For some reason, she felt a lot safer when Michael was around.

Angela looked from Michael, to Jack, to Booth and Brennan and back to Christine and Michael. "Err… Okay. I guess that makes sense."

"Great, I'll go grab some things. You can ride with me Christine; I'll be back in five."

Christine quickly grabbed a pair of jeans and a powder blue sweater as well as matching bra and panties. She pulled a small green duffel bag from the top of her wardrobe and threw her things in it. She then packed her snoopy pyjamas along with her toothbrush and hairbrush. She quickly threw on her deep red coat and by the time she had kissed both of her parent's goodbyes and made sure that Rachel could crash in the dorm next door, Michael appeared in her doorway carrying his own overnight bag and swivelling his car keys on his index finger.

Michael owned a black jeep which had been a present for his seventeenth birthday. The comfy leather interior smelled almost new and as the seat slowly heated underneath her butt, Christine leaned back finally able to relax. Michael turned on the radio but kept it on low and whilst they made their way along Massachusetts's Avenue with the American University campus in the rear-view, Christine noted that he was a very smooth, comfortable driver. Instead of keeping his hands at ten and two o'clock like she always insisted on, he sat with his left arm out stretched; his hand resting on the top of the wheel and with his other hand, he fiddled with the radio switching stations but still kept his eyes on the road. It was pitch black outside now and the only light came from the strategically placed dim street lamps and the beam of the cars headlights. Michael finally settled on a station and as Christine recognised the mellow sounds of Thriving Ivory, she closed her eyes.

As Michael signalled left at the intersection, he heard Christine's soft breathing and when he looked to his right he realised she was sleeping. The song switched to a haunting melody of Adele's and he couldn't help a soft smile curving his lips. He couldn't believe he'd suggested that he come and stay at home with Christine. When he'd left her room to get his stuff he'd come to his senses and realised that his heroic display must have been extremely obvious to his overly perceptive Mother and when he'd returned to the room, he'd avoided making eye contact with her. In the time he had been sat with Christine holding her warm palm in his own, he had realised that he liked her. More than he'd liked any other girl and he'd instantly experienced an unsettling feeling in his gut. It told him that things were about to get complicated. He'd known the moment he'd shown up at her door that first day that he'd been attracted to her and he'd gotten a kick out of getting under her skin and making her roll those clear blue eyes at something he said. He'd wanted to make her blush just so he could watch the heat rise past her cute little dimples and flood her baby doll cheeks. He hadn't known that he'd grow to enjoy it more and more each time he saw her – so much so, that he'd deliberately go looking for her. But it had happened and after tonight he didn't want to let her out of his sight.

Christine felt a soft grazing at her cheek and she twitched trying to make it go away but it kept on. She opened her eyes and realised it was Michael's warm hand that was brushing her cheek trying to wake her. She abruptly sat up; embarrassed that she hadn't even been able to stay awake through the short journey to his house. For some reason whenever he was around, something happened to make her feel utterly ridiculous. "We're here", he said softly and smiled. He was already holding his own bag as well as hers and she cleared her throat and pushed her hair behind her ears, quickly patting it down at the crown where she had slept on it. She slipped out of the passenger side and followed Michael up the front path. He reached in his pocket for his key and after twisting it in the lock; he opened the door and motioned her inside. Jack and Angela mustn't be back yet. "Since Lily decided she wanted her own room over the summer, our spare room is, well, no longer spare", he said barely above a whisper. His three sisters were no doubt asleep upstairs. "But don't worry, you can sleep in my room and I'll crash on the sofa in my studio."

"Your studio?"

"My art studio."

"Since when do you have an art studio?"

"Since last summer when I made our attic my art studio." He smiled and moved down the hallway towards the stairs. "Come on, I'll take your bag up."

She followed him up the familiar maple wood staircase and past the door to the spare room that was slightly ajar leaving a slice of light to cut across the floor and cast a dim glow onto Lily, who was sound asleep with her arm curled protectively around a white fluffy bear, her fuzzy curls spread across the pillow. Michael whispered to Christine. "In the morning she hides her bear under the bed and swears she doesn't know who keeps leaving her door open at night". Christine let out a quiet giggle along with Michael and followed him into his spacious bedroom where a large bay window looked out onto the back patio. He put down her bag with his own and walked over to the window to draw the heavy silk grey curtains.

"Are you sure about this?" She felt slightly uncomfortable standing alone with him in his room for a second time that evening. "I could just bunk with Pippa and you can have your own bed."

"Are you kidding?" It was obviously a rhetorical question because he instantly continued. "You'll never get any sleep if you crash in her room. Once she realises you're here she'll never stop yapping."

"Good point. Thanks."

"You're welcome. We should probably leave at about eight tomorrow. I guess I'll see you at breakfast. Oh and if you want to shower or anything, you can use my bathroom. I swear it's clean. Plus, in the morning, you won't get near the other bathroom with my darling sister's around. Towels are in the linen closet over there. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for everything."

"I'm just glad you're okay." He took his bag and closed the door behind him. She heard his footsteps above a few minutes later in the attic and she reached for her pyjamas to get ready for bed. She was exhausted and as she climbed into bed she felt physically drained. Almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep.

Unfortunately, Christine once again, woke up with a jolt. She didn't know what time it was and she reached for the small clock on the bedside table. It read three: forty one and she groaned. She rested her head back on the pillow, her eyes wide open, and she pulled the black and white patterned duvet up around her chin. She'd dreamt about Michael again.

She'd walked down the same dark corridor, only this time Michael wasn't there. She was trying to hurry but her feet refused to go any faster, as if she was wading through deep water and she felt frantic and kept turning to look behind her. She'd had the distinct feeling that she was being chased but there was no one around. She stopped outside of Michael's door where a white box lay slightly open. She picked it up with trembling hands only to find that there was something inside; a blooded finger. She let the box fall from her hands but she didn't notice where it landed or if it made a sound because she was already opening Michael's door. He lay on his bed. The stab wound wasn't there and she exhaled and rushed over to him. As she bent over his still frame, she noticed blood coming from somewhere. The same sticky red that had covered her hands in the dream the night before. It smelled like copper and rust and churned her stomach until she felt nauseated. She reached for Michael's hand only to realise the finger in the box had belonged to him. His hand was covered in blood with his little finger missing. As she began to sob and take his face in her hands, his head turned in her direction. His eyes were glassy with a fixed stare. His throat was slashed. She screamed.

That was when she had woken up. Her chest felt tight. Once again, she had the urge to check that Michael was okay, this time it was too strong to ignore. She sat up and slipped one foot out of bed followed by the other. The cold hit her straight away and she shivered but she moved towards the door regardless and opened it slowly praying that it wouldn't creak as she did so. It didn't. The landing was pitch black but she had been here many times and she knew the way. Once her eyes had adjusted to the dark she began walking forward, taking small steps and being careful not to make any noise. She held her hand out in front of her and felt her way along the wall until she came to the stairs that led to the attic. She took one step at a time, still feeling her way. Once she reached the top, she noticed that the door wasn't shut all the way and she smiled. It looked like Lily wasn't the only Hodgins kid who liked the door to be left slightly ajar after lights out. She opened the door slowly and saw Michael asleep in the middle of the room on his sofa bed. She felt incredibly stupid for taking this little trip up to the attic to check that he was still breathing but as she turned to leave she heard a faint snore and something inside her propelled her further into the room instead of back down the stairs, which is exactly where she should have been heading. She could always plead temporary insanity later on. She tip toed toward him. His left cheek was crushed against the pillow and his mouth was open a little. His long body was sprawled out with one tanned leg draped over the top of the cover. She could tell now that he was wearing boxers and a white t-shirt that was so bright it almost glowed in the dark. Now she felt slightly crazy stood over Michael whilst he slept. It reminded her of the psycho version of herself in the first nightmare she'd had, as if at any moment she should pull out a knife and stab him to death, so she turned to leave. As soon as she did, she banged her foot on the leg of the small chair which was positioned next to the sofa bed and when she heard him stir she immediately regretted coming up here. "Christine?"

"I'm sorry. I'm leaving."

"Wait." His voice was groggy with sleep. "What are you doing up here?"

"Wow, this is embarrassing. I was just checking that you were okay."

"Oh?"

"You're going to think I'm a total psycho but I dreamed that you were dead again and I just err… wanted to see that you were okay before I went back to sleep."

"Again?"

"I'm sorry", she was glad it was dark because she was certain that her face was bright red. "I just… I keep having these weird dreams since the killings and I can't sleep and I guess I wanted to reassure myself that it was a dream and that you were really okay before I go and lie awake for the next few hours."

"You really do have an overactive imagination don't you?" She wasn't sure but she thought she heard a faint chuckle. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, that's okay. I should go. I'm sorry for waking you"

"How about some company then?"

"Company?"

"You said you couldn't sleep, right?"

"Right."

"So get in." She barely had time to process what he had said before he drew back the covers and shuffled over to make room for her.

"Excuse me?"

"I promise no funny business. This way you'll be able to sleep without worrying about me being in mortal peril."

She knew she had gone crazy because without any more persuasion than that, she climbed in next to him and he drew the cover up over her shoulders. She expected to feel extremely uncomfortable but instead she felt entirely relaxed and after a little wriggling to get comfortable, she closed her eyes knowing that Michael Hodgins was sleeping right next to her and that they were both completely safe.

Angela was about to have a heart attack. She had breezed into Michael's room this morning expecting to find Christine sleeping peacefully but instead she had found an empty bed. Straight away she had checked each of her daughter's bedrooms one by one starting with Pippa, then Molly, then Lily. Christine wasn't in any of the girl's room's. She checked Michael's bathroom as well as the other bathroom and then went downstairs feeling quite crazed and re-checked both sitting rooms, the dining room and the kitchen as well as outside on the back patio and the front porch. She had almost started to hyperventilate. If Booth found out that Angela had lost his only daughter, he would go insane. She knew that Christine and Michael hadn't already left yet because it was only a little before seven and his jeep was still in the driveway, blocked in by her own car. That was when she thought to check the attic. Maybe Michael would know where Christine was. Or maybe they were already awake and hanging out in the attic? She almost scoffed at that idea. She knew as well and Brennan and Booth that Michael and Christine practically hated each other. They obviously thought they hid it well but for years it had been a long running joke between herself and her husband as well as Booth. Her best friend merely frowned whenever anyone made mention of it and didn't seem to understand the joke. They had all been more than a little surprised last night to find Michael in Christine's room and Angela herself was amazed when Michael had decided to play the part of the chivalrous knight in shining armour and offer to accompany Christine home and drive her back to the campus. Nevertheless, she was out of options so she made her way up the stairs, past his bedroom and her own and up the other set of stairs that led to the attic. She pushed open his door and had to choke back a gasp at the sight before her. She had found Christine alright. Her eyes were closed and a faint smile tilted up the corners of her mouth as if she was dreaming about something amusing. She wore her snoopy pyjamas and was lay across Michael chest, her small hand resting over his heart and his own larger hand covered hers. He lay perfectly still with his other arm around her shoulders. If she wasn't so confused and infuriated she would have been touched at the sight before her. They looked peaceful and fit together so naturally. It was what Angela had dreamed about when her best friend had given birth to a baby girl eighteen years ago but under the circumstances she was less than thrilled about finding her son and her best friend's daughter in bed together. If Booth was here right now, Michael's head would have already been separated from his neck, and she clutched her own throat at the very thought. What was she to do? Michael was nineteen and Christine was eighteen. Both consenting adults. Not that Angela suspected they'd done the deed. Maybe they had fallen asleep talking and accidentally assumed an early morning lovers pose? She lingered in the doorway wondering what to do next when Michael's alarm began screeching at a decibel so high she wondered how the windows weren't shattered. She jumped and then swivelled round and headed back down the stairs before Michael or Christine could notice her, almost tripping down the last two steps in her haste. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks even though she knew it was ridiculous for her to be embarrassed and she was so distracted she almost collided with her husband who suddenly appeared out of the doorway of their bedroom.

Jack Hodgins kissed his wife on her cheek, a sweet gesture that had become part of their morning greeting over the years. "You look startled", he said as he made his way along the landing towards the stairs. He turned in confusion to his wife who remained in the same spot seemingly dazed. "Are you coming down for breakfast?"

"Yes", she said snapping out of it. "We need coffee".

Christine was awakened by something warm wriggling underneath her. As she opened her eyes and let things come into focus, she realized it was the warm body of Michael Hodgins beneath her and the events of the night before came flooding back to her memory.

"Oh, God!" She jumped up and off the bed as though she'd been burned. She was all too aware that she stood before this handsome boy, no - man, who had probably had his share of attractive women, in a pair of snoopy pyjamas - which included little hot pant style bottoms and hair that, instead of being attractively rumpled, stuck up and out in all sorts of directions. Before she even consulted a mirror, she could already guess that her skin was sallow and her eyes were probably ringed with dark circles from her recent lack of sleep and she had to resist the urge to sprint out of his attic.

"What's the matter?" He asked as though he found himself in these kinds of situations all the time – although for all she knew, maybe he did! He began to smile sensing her awkwardness and rolled out of bed shaking his head and grinning as he made his way over to a coat rack which held a couple of different overalls and a dark blue silk robe. He grabbed the robe and handed it to her before turning his back so she could slip into it. After a few seconds he turned and looked her up and down. "There's nothing to be ashamed of under that robe you know".

Her face flamed crimson. "And how in the hell would you know? You're such a jerk!" With that she stormed out of his room and down the stairs, then across the landing into Michaels room where she should have slept last night and closed the door. She knew there was nothing insulting about what he'd just said, only slightly sleazy. Her childish outburst had been absolutely ridiculous and she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her as she came to the realisation that she, Christine Angela Booth, liked Michael Staccato Vincent Hodgins!

Christine felt slightly queasy as she found her place at the breakfast table and bit into her slice of whole-wheat toast. "I can't believe you didn't wake me last night Christine!" Pippa pulled out her chair and reached for the orange juice. "It wasn't that late and you could have crashed in my room anyway. Michael's boudoir is probably a sweaty cesspit of unwashed linen and remnants of teenage hormones!"

"Watch it smart mouth", Michael told his sister as he lightly clipped her round the head and took his seat across from Christine and began filling his plate with pancakes and scrambled eggs. Christine thought it figured that he could eat like a pig and still have perfectly sculpted abs.

"So what was it like to find that bloody finger in your room?" Pippa's eyes lit up at the prospect of hearing all the gory details but was cut off by her father.

"I hardly think that's the kind of talk for over breakfast Pippa. Can we talk about something else please? Like your biology paper?"

"Dad!" Pippa rolled her eyes and took the grungy red band that was around her thin wrist to assemble her hair on top of head. Pippa was sixteen years old and resembled Jack Hodgins in every possible way from her love of bugs and dirt to her ice blue eyes and head of thick golden brown curly locks. "School only just started and it's half-finished already".

Jack Hodgins and his wife exchanged amused looks with each other, knowing full well that their eldest daughter's scholastic achievements had never been an issue, before he grabbed his coffee to go. "I'm going to be late". He kissed Angela goodbye before placing a peck on Pippa's cheek and shouting goodbye to Molly and Lily who were still hogging the bathroom upstairs. "Be careful Christine, although I'm sure Michael will take good care of you".

"Thanks Uncle Jack. I'll be fine". Christine finished her toast whilst avoiding eye contact with Michael.

"Shouldn't you two be off by now?" Asked Angela as she handed both Christine and Michael take away coffee cups.

"Yep. Let's go". Michael stood abruptly and went upstairs to retrieve his bag and jacket.

"Promise me you will be careful and come straight back with Michael when your last class ends".

"I promise Aunty Ange. Thanks for breakfast and for everything else you've done".

"You know it's no problem. You're family! Oh and it's enchiladas for dinner: not to be missed".

"Ok, I promise". Christine reached for her own bag and checked she had her iPod and phone before slipping into her own jacket and grabbing her coffee.

"And", said Pippa excitedly and she carried her plate to the sink, "Promise we will catch up later. I haven't seen you in weeks".

"I promise Pip. You'll have my full attention after dinner tonight".

"Ready?" Michael lingered in the hallway and Christine followed him out to his car and jumped into the passenger's seat as soon as he activated the automated locking system. Before he had a chance to even speak she shoved in her ear phones and turned up her music to full blast to make the drive to school a little less painful. Michael didn't argue and instead slipped on his shades and put the car into drive.

As soon as Michael parked his car and switched off the engine, Christine threw off her seat belt and jumped out of the passenger side door. She threw her bag on her shoulder and tried to avoid any conversation but she wasn't that lucky. "Wait Christine", Michael called to her slamming his own door and making his way around the car. "We need to arrange to meet back here. I have a meeting with one of my professors, is five ok?"

"Sure", she answered whilst staring right past his soulful eyes and trying her best not to blush whilst recalling his warm body beneath her own".

"Make sure you're not alone today at any point and keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. If you get a feeling you're being followed or someone is watching you call me straight away. Promise me".

"If I get the feeling I'm being followed or watched by someone, I'll call my father – the F.B.I agent, not you". She turned to leave but he grabbed her arm and she was forced to turn back and face him.

"Hey! You're the one that came to my room. You're the one that climbed into bed with me. You're the one making this weird". He breathed an exasperated sigh and Christine looked away from him, not quite knowing what to say in response but luckily she didn't have to say anything else. As if the universe was sending her a lifeline, she saw Rachel heading straight toward them. When Michael followed her gaze, he quickly let go of her, even though his grasp on her had been nothing but gentle to begin with. "I'll see you later. Remember: five sharp. Back here".

"Hi Michael", Rachel managed, her sunny disposition radiating from her, before Michael was out of ear shot.

"Hi", he mumbled before he disappeared into the throng of students crowding the quad.

"Shall we grab pick-me-up before class?" Asked Rachel as she linked arms with Christine and began steering her toward the coffee cart without waiting for an answer.

Whilst Christine sat in the middle of three hundred students in her last class of the day listening to her professor give a less than riveting lecture about the concepts and methodologies of psychology in areas of social development, she once again thought about the night before. Why had she gone up to the attic like a damsel in distress just because she'd had a bad dream? And why had she crawled into bed with Michael? It had been a monumentally stupid thing to do and what was worse was that she had blamed him for the whole thing and ignored him on their ride this morning like an ungrateful and spoiled child. She could kick herself! She slowly let her eyes drift shut and relived the thrill of standing over Michael and deciding whether to slide under the covers with him and have one restful night's sleep knowing he wasn't being brutally attacked and murdered. She wanted to shut her eyes without having to keep opening them to check the bedroom door was still shut, without having to scan the room and make sure there was no one lurking in the shadows or to have to strain her ears and make sure there was only silence she heard. She wanted to shut her eyes and curl up next to the warm body of the boy she had known for eighteen year who was suddenly becoming someone entirely different to her than the annoying little boy who pulled her hair or the arrogant teenage all-star who pretended she didn't exist. She wanted – her phone vibrated and she almost jumped out of her seat. Thankfully no one seemed to have noticed and she slipped it out of her pocket and read the text message from Rachel.

Sorry. Can't hang out till five - forgot about study session with the girls. Will you be ok? Christine quickly replied.

No worries - will be fine. Will just finish some research at the library till five.

Christine put away the last of the pile of books she had spread out around her and tucked her notes safely into her folder. She looked at her watch and it read four, fifty. She grabbed her bag and her carry on which held fresh clothes she had retrieved earlier from her dorm and decided to make her way back across campus to meet Michael. As she headed out of the library and began the short walk over to the car park she tightened her scarf around her neck as the early evening chill seemed to percolate through her clothing. She noticed that the sky was already beginning to darken which she told herself she should get used to now that fall had arrived. The bitter wind blew through the trees lining the pavement and shook the browning leaves causing some to fall to the ground and crunch underneath her stride. She took out her phone from the small pocket of her too thin jacket and checked to see if there were any messages from her parents. There was nothing except a text from Pippa.

Can't wait to catch up! How long will you be?

Christine smiled to herself and was about to reply when another text message made her phone buzz. It was from an unknown number which she thought was strange so she opened up the message and after reading it, froze in horror.

Did you pass along my message to your mother?

Christine let out an unexpected whimper and forced herself to look round but there was nothing except an empty street which made sense since everyone else was smart enough to travel in groups or with police patrols. She took a jagged breath inwards and carried on walking but picked up her pace still frantically looking around for a sign that someone was following her or watching. Her phone buzzed again and she opened up the message.

Walking all by yourself with a murderer on the loose. I though the brain child of Dr. Brennan knew better than that.

Christine felt tears streaming down her frozen cheeks and she went even faster not daring to look behind her. Her phone buzzed again.

I can get to you anywhere Christine.

She cried out and began running. This couldn't be happening to her. She heard leaves crunching behind her and she knew she couldn't stop. She was almost there. She carried on, the wind whistling in her ears. She was going so fast that when Michael appeared she collided with him but she didn't care. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life!

"Whoa. Christine what's wrong?"

"Michael someone was after me".

"What?" He darted his eyes around the half empty car park but there was no one in sight. "Who? Where did they go?" She clung to his chest and he grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

"I don't know but I heard someone. And look." She thrust her phone at him and he read the messages before opening the passenger door and helping her inside. He hurried round the car and jumped in the driver's seat then handed back her phone.

"Call your Dad. Tell him we're on our way to meet him at the F.B.I building".