Author's Note: Well, it's been a very long week and real life has prevented me from updating until now. Next week looks just as bad, but I managed to finish the following chapter. Please let me know what you think. Thanks.
Brennan walked swiftly through the criminal courts building after signing in at the entrance. She was headed toward the offices of Judge Hank Luttrell, one of Booth's buddies from his army days. She had called earlier and told him about Booth's disappearance, and he had suggested that she meet him at his chambers. He was one of Booth's oldest friends, and she hoped that he could help her to find out where Booth had gone.
"Go in, Dr. Brennan, Judge Luttrell is expecting you," his secretary waved her in when Brennan entered her office.
"Good morning, Judge Luttrell, thank you for seeing me on such short notice,:" Brennan said as she entered his office.
"Dr. Brennan, how are you?" he said as he propelled his wheel chair forward to shake her hand. "Sit down, and please call me Hank. I only wish we were meeting under better circumstances. You said on the phone that Booth has disappeared and no one knows where," he said with a concerned frown. "This isn't like him at all. Do you have any idea what happened to make him act like this?"
"No, Hank, I don't know for certain," Brennan replied. "However, I think it may have something to do with the fact that he is having nightmares about combat again, specifically about being captured and tortured. As to what might have triggered it, we had a case involving a serial killer called Howard Epps, who escaped from prison. We had him cornered on a balcony and he jumped off. Booth tried to save him, but was unable to hold onto him, and he fell to his death. Booth blamed himself and has been having problems ever since. He's more or less taken an oath that he wouldn't kill again unless it was absolutely necessary to save someone else's life. Since Epps died, he's been very moody, and his temper has been unpredictable at best. He's been seeing an FBI psychiatrist as a result."
"I heard about the Epps case through the grapevine, and of course I read what was reported in the papers," Hank replied. "I called Booth and invited him to dinner with us, but he said he didn't have time to come. I haven't seen or talked to him since then, I'm afraid. How do you think I can help you?"
"Hank, I called you because I was hoping you would have some idea where Booth has gone," Brennan said urgently. "I've talked to Rebecca, and some of his other friends, but no one has any ideas. You've known him as long as anyone. Can you think of anything that might help me figure out where he could have gone?"
Hank shook his head, "As I said, I haven't even talked to him for several months. Unfortunately, I don't have any idea how he spends his time any more. The last time I saw him he didn't have much to say, except when he talked about Parker. And you, of course. But then it's always been like pulling teeth to get him to talk about his personal problems."
"Are you sure, Hank? Is there any place he went to in the past—somewhere before he was in the FBI or before Parker was born?" Brennan asked.
"No, I don't really know of any … Wait a minute, there is a place he used to go when he first got out of the army. I have an old cabin in the mountains that I inherited from my grandfather. I always let my friends use it because I didn't go there that much when the kids were small. Booth used to go there on weekends quite a bit before Parker was born. If he needed to get away from everything, maybe he went there," Hank replied excitedly. "There's no phone, and you can't get through on Booth's cell phone because it's so isolated, but I think it's worth checking out."
"If you'll give me directions, I'll leave right away," Brennan said.
"I'll do better than that, I'll draw you a map. It's pretty hard to find the cabin without one," he said, pulling a pad of paper toward him and beginning to sketch. "Let me know as soon as you find him, Dr. Brennan, or if I can be of any other help," Hank said, handing her the map. "I owe Booth more than I can ever repay."
"I will, Hank, and thank you," she replied. As she hurried toward her car, she thought about the times Booth had saved her life, and about how many times he had been there for her when her family let her down. "I owe him, too," she muttered to herself. "More than I can ever repay." She blinked away the sudden moisture in her eyes at the thought that she might not get the chance to try.
She debated whether to take the time to drop by her apartment and grab the small bag she always kept packed in case she was called away unexpectedly. In the end, she decided that she would undoubtedly need the contents, and a few minutes more wouldn't make that much difference. On the way there, she called Angela and Jack, who had left a message on her cell phone.
"Angela, I just got through talking to Hank Luttrell. He has a cabin in the mountains that Booth may be using. I'm going there immediately," she said briefly.
"Sweetie, don't you want us to come with you. If nothing else, you need us for moral support," Angela replied.
"No, Ange, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure that Booth would hate it if he knew that so many people knew about his personal business, and that we were asking everyone for help looking for him. As his friend, I need to go after him on my own so that he won't be too upset. I promise to let you know as soon as I find anything out." She then explained about the lack of cell phone service, but promised to get word to them somehow.
"All right, Bren, but please be careful," Angela said in a worried tone.
"Ange, don't be silly. I'm in no danger from Booth," Brennan snorted incredulously.
"Sweetie, if Booth has suffered some kind of breakdown as a result of PTSD, you have no way of knowing if he's dangerous or not," Angela replied. "Just promise me that you'll keep that in mind and act accordingly." Angela's voice sounded really upset. "Remember that if he's having a nightmare or flashback, you're not supposed to try to wake him up, because he could hurt you without knowing that you aren't part of the nightmare."
"All right, Angela," Brennan said placatingly. "I promise I'll be careful. Good-bye."
Angela was wrong, she thought. There was no way that Booth would ever hurt her. She knew that as well as she knew the sun would come up tomorrow. It was a given--like a scientific law: Seeley Booth protected the people he cared about. As she had once told Jack, she believed it because she had seen proof that it was true, not because of some kind of untried "faith." Unlike her father, Booth would never, ever hurt her.
When she arrived at her apartment, Brennan quickly looked up the county sheriff's office in the area where Booth had gone. She called and told them that she urgently needed to talk to Booth about a case, but that she couldn't reach him because his cell phone was out of range. She asked them to let Booth know that she needed to see him, and that she was on the way. They agreed to send one of their deputies by when he made his regular rounds in the area. Brennan hoped that she wasn't sending the deputy there on a wild goose chase. But somehow, she had the feeling that she was on the right track to finding Booth. "Maybe Booth's 'gut' feelings are finally rubbing off on me," she thought with a wry smile. She grabbed her overnight bag, knapsack and keys, and headed for the door. But when she opened it, Sully was standing there with his hand raised to knock. He looked extremely upset.
