Christine opened one eye, and then the other. She smiled at the sight before her. Michael lay facing her with his eyes closed and framed by thick dark lashes. His hand was still wrapped around hers and the dark green t-shirt he wore was rumpled. Although she felt a warm tingle and longed to close her eyes and fall back to sleep she didn't want to push their luck so she gently slipped her warm palm out of his grasp being careful not to wake him and grabbed a fresh change of clothes before quietly slipping into the bathroom. She dressed in her dark denim straight legged jeans with an emerald green knit sweater and a pair of dark brown ugg boots. She brushed her teeth and assembled her hair in a knotted bun at the nape of her neck before applying a swipe of pink lip gloss and dusted her Chanel rose bronzer across the apples of her cheeks. She wondered if she'd over done it, after all, she didn't want Michael thinking she was going out of her way to grab his attention. After an inner debate she decided she looked ok so she headed back into Michaels bedroom where he still lay sleeping and tip toed onto the landing and down the stairs to the kitchen. Christine realised she was the first one up since it was deadly silent. She glance at the kitchen clock which read eight, twenty five and she switched on the coffee maker after filling it with water. Everyone else was no doubt exhausted after their eventful night and it was Saturday morning, but Christine felt oddly calm and awake. After filling a large mug with strong coffee and a drop of cream she headed outside to where her Father was dozing in the front seat that was positioned at a reclining slant. She wrapped twice on the window and startled her father who swiftly jumped up and reached for his gun.
"Whoa, it's just me."
Booth exhaled and then relaxed winding down the window and accepting the mug of coffee she had almost spilled at the prospect of being shot by her father. "Thanks honey. Get in." Booth opened the passenger door and Christine walked around the front of his car and jumped in. "What are you doing out of the house anyway? I thought I told you to stay inside."
"Relax", she was about to launch into a rant about her personal safety but stopped, feeling guilty, after noticing the dark rings around her father's tired eyes. "I'm sorry I should be more careful."
Booth reached for his daughters hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Did you sleep?"
"More than you did by the looks of things. You need to go home and get some rest Dad, I'll be ok."
"I can't. Not whilst you and Michael are in danger like this."
"Do you really think Michael's in danger?"
"This person has already killed two 19-year-old males who were both sophomores attending American University. Michael fits the profile and his safety has been threatened. We have to take that seriously so for now you both need to lay low and be careful."
"Well, when you say it like that…" Christine sighed, the calm she previously felt seemed to vanish leaving only a dull uneasy feeling behind.
Christine and Booth both lent back on their head rests observing the Hodgins' house that stood before them. From the outside it looked very safe. The solid red brick exterior had always seemed like a fortress to Christine when she was little, much like her own house had. The heavy mahogany front door was surrounded by pretty white trellises covered in neatly trimmed ivy. The large bay windows gleamed and on either side were dark green shutters. An ivory wood porch swing sat in front of the living room window and was surrounded by several pretty potted gardenia plants. Booth's car was parked on the driveway behind Michael's car and the family's other vehicles were safely tucked away in the large garage that was built onto the left side of the large residence. Before last night Christine would never have worried about the suburban home of the people she considered her family being violated, but now, she knew it was possible. Jack Hodgins was extremely angry and had demanded that the security company pay a visit to their house that afternoon to inspect the high tech system after it had been breached by whatever psycho was stalking Christine and making death threats towards Michael. Jack and Angela had also talked about temporarily moving into the large mansion on the other side of the City that belonged to Jack's family. The garage there could hold over twelve cars and had an apartment built over the top of it with two bedrooms, a kitchen, a den and a living room. People often wondered why Jack Hodgins, who was the sole heir to the Cantilever Group, chose to toil in academia rather than spend time in the high social society to which his wealth entitled him but he had never cared about money or social stature after having been bullied in high school carrying around the stigma of a "rich boy". Anyone who knew the entomologist who seemed to moonlight as a conspiracy theorist would have found the very idea that he was the largest financial donor to the Jeffersonian Institute where he had chosen to work for the last quarter of a century rather ridiculous but Jack Hodgins was content with his beautiful wife, his four children and their modest suburban home along with his Toyota Prius and original mini tucked safely away in his garage. Christine smiled to herself before turning to regard her father who looked as though he was trying desperately to keep both eyes open.
"Dad, I promise to behave today. Go home and get some rest. Aren't you interviewing students this afternoon?"
"Yes. Okay I'll go but the patrol car will be here and promise me you won't do anything stupid."
"I promise. Give Mom a kiss for me okay?"
"Okay." Booth gave his daughters cheek a quick peck and watched her make her way back inside before he backed out of the driveway to head back to his own home to try and catch a few winks before this afternoons interviews."
Michael rolled over and opened his eyes, instantly aware that Christine's side of the bed was vacant and the sheet was cold. He darted glances around the room and jumped out of bed. He opened the bathroom door but she wasn't in there either. He hurried into the hallway and opened Pippa's bedroom door to find her snoring under the covers. He checked Molly and Lilly's bedrooms too but they were all sleeping peacefully. He doubted very much that he was going to find Christine tucked in between his parents so instead he headed downstairs and checked his watch as he went, it was eight fifty. He padded into the kitchen but she wasn't there so he headed into the family room but that was empty too with the curtains still drawn. He was starting to panic so he called her name.
"Christine! Where are you?"
"Shhh, you're going to wake everybody up!" She scalded him appearing in the doorway.
He noticed that she looked good. She was wearing her brown uggs and some tight jeans and a sweater. Her hair was off her face – he liked it like that – and her lips were pink and glossy and matched her rosy cheeks. He realised he was staring so he inwardly told himself to snap out of it and remembered he was supposed to be mad for making him worry. "Did you just come from outside?" He raised his voice a little louder than he'd intended and she shushed him once again.
"I took my Dad some coffee. Relax."
"Oh, I woke up and you were gone."
She blushed. "Yeah, I woke up early so I went to check on my Dad. I just sent him home."
"Is the patrol car still there?" Michael rubbed his tired eyes.
"Yeah, they've been there all night too. They just switched officers. Do you want some coffee?" She asked moving past him into the kitchen so he followed her and lifted himself on a stool at the breakfast bar.
"Sure. Thanks."
She poured them each a mug and after adding cream and sugar she joined him at the breakfast bar, positioning herself across from him. They both sipped in silence for a few minutes.
"So, I was thinking that today we could do something fun, take your mind off things." He looked at her waiting for an answer.
"Like what? My Dad would flip if we left the house."
"Who said we have to leave the house?" He flashed his pearly whites and that old sly smiled spread across his face.
"Ok", she smiled. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, before we do anything, we need to eat." He stood and made his way over to the fridge and started retrieving eggs and milk and a host of other ingredients and swiftly grabbed a knife and chopping board. "You've never tried my omelettes and you are seriously missing out Chris."
"It's Christine!" But she was starting to get used to her nick name and somehow she didn't mind it as much when it rolled off his lips.
He laughed as he reached for a frying pan and his eyes met hers for a split second before he started chopping and mixing ingredients as if he had his own show on the cooking network. She watched him, admiring his confidence and fluidity as he went. She had a strange feeling that this was something she could get used to.
"So, when you went to retrieve the box you didn't see anything?" Seeley Booth sat across from Rachel, Christine's easy going roommate, who seemed dazed by the whole experience.
"No, like I said, there was a knock at the door so I opened it and saw the box on the floor. I looked down the hall both ways but there was nobody there so I picked it up and when I saw that Christine's name was on the front, I put it on her desk so she could open it when she got back."
"And can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Christine?"
"I don't think so. We don't know each other that well but she's a nice girl and people like her."
"So after you gave the box to Christine, what happened?"
"Well, she opened it and then screamed once she saw what was inside and dropped it onto her desk. I rushed over to see what it was and then Michael came back."
Booth sat up straighter in his chair. "What do you mean Michael came back?"
"He came back to the room. He'd just walked Christine back to our dorm but I guess he heard her scream a few seconds later and back to see if she was ok."
"Where had Christine been?"
"With Michael, after we all had dinner, he wanted to show her some of his art work."
Booth scowled inwardly. It was certainly interesting that Christine and Michael seemed to be spending more and more time around each other lately. He had always known they hadn't really liked each other, no matter how much they tried to hide it in front of other people, but something between them had changed. Booth made a mental note to mention it to his daughter the next time her saw her, especially since she and Michael were sleeping in the same house. Booth's thoughts began to wander to a place that made him want to snap the little twerp's neck and he quickly reeled them in, telling himself that Michael hadn't even done anything. He turned his attention back to the fidgety red-dead sat before him.
"Peter Cummings and Kevin Williamson. Do those names mean anything to you?"
"Of course, they are the two students that were murdered, right?"
"Right", Booth shifted in his chair. "What I mean is, did you know either of those students. Had you ever seen them? Talked to them? Had any friends in common?"
"No. I barely know anybody, especially not sophomores. Besides, they were pretty popular guys; I doubt they'd have even noticed me." Rachel blushed slightly and looked into her coffee cup. "My parents want me to go home but I told them that I'm perfectly safe." She looked up just them and her eyes met with Booth's. "I am perfectly safe aren't I Agent Booth?"
"Of course. There have been no threats made against you. I think we can call it a day Rachel. Thanks for answering my questions."
"Whatever I can do to help Michael and Christine." She smiled as Booth walked her to the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor."
"Do you have a ride back to campus?"
"Yes, thanks. I have my car parked in the lot."
Sweets exited the small room in which he had been sat observing the interviews taking place all morning and afternoon and took stride with Booth as they made their way to his office.
"What do you think?" Agent Booth asked Sweets referring to Christine's seemingly sweet roommate.
"Nothing out of the ordinary there. We should carry on with our interviews on Monday morning. Besides, I told Daisy I'd collect her from her Tai Chi class downtown."
"Tai Chi?" Booth cocked his eyebrow at Sweets.
"Don't ask Booth. You think Brennan's hard work? Daisy has the kids enrolled in tap dancing lessons on the weekend. Last week, Connor started crying on the way in. I took him for ice cream instead and told Daisy that the boys tap class was cancelled until further notice. Oh and on Thursdays, we're going to Salsa class. She thinks it'll help us reconnect."
Booth laughed. Sweets was intuitive when it came to other people's relationships but clueless when it came to his own. He did pity Sweets. At least all Bones made him do was practice with her at the shooting range occasionally.
By 6pm, Michael was fully dressed and sat regarding Christine in his art studio as he began moving his pencil over a blank canvas. She sat facing him on the other side of the room on a stool where he had placed her before sitting behind his canvas ready to create a 'master piece' as he had put it. Earlier that morning they had both feasted on Spanish omelettes and a fruit salad that Christine had thrown together whilst Michael had been tossing eggs in the frying pan showing off. They had eaten on the large sofa whilst watching reruns of Friends. Jack had given the security company hell when they had arrived after lunch but was now satisfied that his home was once again secure with the added measure of the patrol car stationed outside. Now he and Angela and their three daughters were out running errands and shopping for groceries leaving Michael and Christine alone in the big family home that was once again a fortress. The leaves on the large Oak trees that surrounded the family home shook in the wind and the sky began to settle into a deep blue as the street lamps were beginning to light. A large corner lamp as well as a lamp on Michael dresser cast the attic in a warm glow.
"Lift your chin slightly", Michael intrusted Christine.
"A little bossy, aren't we", she shot him a look from the corner of her eye and she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
"Portraits aren't easy I'll have you know."
"You're not doubting your abilities this late in the game are you Mikey?" She teased and he saw a faint glimmer in her brilliant blue eyes.
"I just don't want you complaining afterwards."
"Hey, I'm not promising anything."
She went silent for a while and allowed him to work. She still didn't know how she had let him talk her into sitting for s portrait but in the end he had twisted her arm and here they were, sat alone in the spacious attic with his pencils and paints and hundreds of brushes all laid out around him whilst he perched on a stool with a large canvas in front of him which he was focussing all of his concentration on. His dark brows occasionally knitted together and his hazel eyes squinted as he continually glanced in her direction before returning his gaze back to the portrait. She tried not to blush as she felt his gaze seductively stroking her skin as he added detail to what he was drawing. A few times they caught each other straight in the eye only to swiftly turn away and discard the moment. Christine couldn't stop thinking about the previous night. A month ago she didn't even know Michael. Not really anyway. It was strange to think that now he was someone who had become a sort of permanent fixture in her life and she didn't understand why it had taken eighteen years for them to be friends. Friends, is that what they were? It felt like something more to her but she couldn't speak for Michael and he was hard to read. He had always seemed confident and sometimes cold. A strong figure and everything seemed to bounce of him. He had always made her feel weak and inadequate. But now, she was seeing who he really was for the first time. He was kind and caring. When he looked at her, it was as if he was seeing her and only her. They could be in a crowded room but when she felt his gaze on her, it was electric and heated her up from the inside. Just thinking about him, she could feel her skin prickle and she closed her eyes and tried to think of something else. Someone may want to murder her. No - something else - psychology. Yes that was a safe topic. Her paper on Conceptual and Historical Issues in Psychology was due next week and she hadn't even started it yet. She had all of her notes which would have to aid her as she was unable to visit the campus library. Maybe she could ask Sweets. Surely a visit to the F.B.I Building would be considered safe? She would go on Monday morning and pick his brains.
"You look like you're in deep though over there." Michael observed with a smirk. She began to relax.
"Just thinking about my paper that's due next week."
"Really? You're thinking about your paper?"
"What should I be thinking about?" But she instantly regretted that question.
"How about last night"? He stopped what he was doing and sat up straighter as he regarded her. Christine cleared her throat.
"What about last night?"
"I –
He was cut off by the sound of footsteps on the landing below them.
"What was that?" Christine stood from her position on her stool and began to move closer to Michael.
"It's probably just Mom and Dad back with the groceries."
"I don't think so Michael. When I spoke to Pip a while ago, she said they were staying out for dinner and that they'd be back around eight."
Michael's expression turned solemn. "Wait here." He began to move towards the door that directly led onto the winding staircase connected to the landing but before he had taken two steps Christine had a firm grasp on his hard bicep and she yanked him back none to gently and silently closed the door, the lock sounding as she quickly turned it and secured them both in the spacious attic.
"What are you doing?" He was more than a little surprised at her take charge behaviour but he was also a little inappropriately, considering the circumstances, turned on.
"Did you forget about the picture of you and that lovely little caption?" She hissed at him.
"Christine calm down. The alarm system is up and running and the patrol car is out front."
She rounded on him and he took a slight step back. He knew he shouldn't be but he was slightly amused by her sudden fierceness. "The alarm system was up and running last night but that didn't stop someone from breaking in." Before she could continue they heard the footsteps nearing. Christine yanked out her cell and dialled the number of the patrol car outside that's Booth had insisted she take down. She waited for the tired sounding officer to answer before she whispered into the receiver that she and Michael could hear footsteps.
By now she knew that whoever it was, they were halfway up the attic stairs and she began to back away still clutching to Michael as her shield. He slid a battered looking baseball bat from out of the umbrella stand behind the door and lifted it up to eye level whilst signalling Christine to be quiet and to get behind him. They both waited anxiously until finally the footsteps were loud and fast and there was a sudden banging on the door.
"This is Officer Joel Hardman. Are you two ok in there?"
Christine and Michael looked at each other puzzled. As a precaution, Michael still held the bat in place but opened the attic door and sure enough the patrol officer who had arrived this morning was stood before them.
"Did you see anyone?" Asked Christine a little more aggressively than she had meant to.
"No." Officer Hardman returned his gun to his holster and moved into the room. "Did you folks hear something?"
"We heard footsteps on the landing and the stairs leading to attic." Michael answered for both of them.
Ten minutes later, officer Hardman and the officer that had come to relieve him had searched the house and assured Christine and Michael that it was all clear and that the alarm system was up and running and all doors and windows were secure. Both men bid them goodnight and officer Hardman left for the night whilst the younger office Sellers got comfortable in his patrol car for the evening. Michael handed Christine a mug of herbal tea where she sat perched on a stool at the breakfast bar like she had that morning.
"Either we're imagining things or someone has a very clever way of getting in and out of this house Michael."
"I don't know Chris. Maybe it wasn't footsteps that we heard."
"Do you really believe that?"
"I don't know. But what I do know is that you don't have to worry about this. I will not let anything happen to you."
She placed her cup down in front of her. "And I won't let anything happen to you Mikey."
They both smiled and then the moment turned intense. They had both been ignoring the obvious all day. They were attracted to each other. Michael held Christine's gaze as he stood beside where she sat on the tall stool.
"I've been wanting to do this for a while." He told her.
"What?" She was about to go on but something told her not to. Instead she sat paralysed as he leaned slightly forward, took her soft face in his warm hands and slowly, their lips met. At first it was a gentle kiss but Christine wanted more so she slowly parted her lips and felt the warm invasion of Michael's tongue. His rough thumbs stroked her soft cheeks and she let her arms slide around his narrow hips and felt her way up the planes of his back to his broad shoulders. He slowly moved one of his hands around the back of her neck to pull her lips more firmly against his own and with his other arm, he moved it to snake around her small waist and their kiss grew hungry. Christine almost felt light headed and a deep groan seemed to escape Michael's throat. He pulled her closer and crushed her soft curves against the hard contours of his body. His mind and body seemed to be going wild at the sweet taste of Christine Booth but before he could let his mind wander the sound of the front door and the alarm being deactivated jolted them apart and they were left trying to catch their breath, with Michael running his hands through his hair not knowing where to look whilst Christine held her trembling fingers to her throat, her skin flushed pink with desire.
"It's only us", called Angela. "We felt bad so we got take out and brought you two some". She ambled into the kitchen along with the rest of the family and Christine and Michael both jumped off their stools and away from each other like opposing magnets both trying to look guilt free, their breath still a little ragged.
Out on the back patio, across the lawn and behind the slightly over grown brambles and shrubs, a dark figure watched the close knit family scramble around the dining table reaching for takeout cartons and laughing amongst their selves. After witnessing the passionate display by Michael Hodgins and Christine Booth their gut wrenched with hate and blood thirst and slowly settled, knowing that soon, they would both be dead.