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"A thorn defends the rose, harming only those who would steal the blossom." –Chinese Proverbs
Assertive
He should've seen it coming, but he hadn't, and right now it was taking every ounce of self-control that he possessed not to react to the news. Once the other agent turned the corner, Booth found the first place he could trust his legs to get him to and sat down.
He ran his hands through his hair, sucking in air and fighting the urge to put his fist through the nearest wall. Not wanting anyone to ask questions, he quickly stood up and made his way to the elevators. A gawky-looking kid who barely looked old enough to shave let alone be FBI tried to hop on with him, but Booth's cold glare made him back off, stammering that he'd catch the next one.
Booth gave a curt nod as the doors closed and sank back against the back wall as he dropped toward the parking lot. When she'd been in here the last time, did she have any clue what kind of trouble she'd stirred up? Probably not.
She'd probably been all cool and confident, smirking at herself for putting the gang banger in his place. For whatever reason it seemed to be important for her to how the world that she didn't intimidate easily. In fact, there was no doubt in Booth's mind that his partner had enjoyed the fracas and would gladly do it again if given the chance.
Of course, he thought, hopping into his SUC and gripping the steering wheel tightly, it also hadn't crossed her mind that the gang would get ticked and put out a hit on her. They'd make good on it too, he grimaced. They'd send a pack after her, give her a good thrashing, and leave her for dead just like they'd done to Jose. If Booth was lucky, they'd leave a note and dump her in a high-traffic area; if not-well-he wouldn't think about that.
He was half-way home when she called, eagerly informing him about the double funeral she'd paid for and instructing him on where and when to show up. He managed to convince her he'd be there before snapping his phone shut.
As he changed for the funeral, he realized he had three options: warn Bones, tell Cullen, or deal with it himself. If he told Bones, she'd probably go try and pick up where she'd left off. Telling Cullen would just make the other man even more ticked at having to clean up another mess stemming from taking Bones in the field and if he didn't split them up, he'd definitely ground Bones. That meant it was up to him.
From the back of his closet, he grabbed his most intimidating-looking gun, then hopped in one of the beater cars he was working on, and headed for the barrio. The entire way there he mentally replayed memories of all of the good things he and Bones had done together, allowing them to fuel his cool rage. He thought about how he'd feel if anything happened to her. Like a second nature, his mind switched easily into hunter mode as he pulled over to wait. He wasn't out for blood yet, but he wanted to make sure they knew he would be if pushed.
It was later than he'd hoped by the time his target showed up in Booth's rear-view mirror, but he shrugged it off as he left the car and pursued the gang banger on foot. Better to be late to today's funeral, than have to go to hers.