She sits in the nursery, quietly rocking a fussy baby. She sits in a rocking chair, in the corner of the room. She pats his back, but he continues to cry. She holds him close to her heart, and begins talking to him.
"Benjamin shh!," she begs. The crying ceases. He stares up at her with big blue eyes.
"I know handsome," she coos, "You're missing daddy too. He'll be home soon." She strokes the back of his chubby hand. His eyes remain locked on her. She fluffs his tuft of jet black hair. He smiles at her.
"Are you home?" a voice calls from somewhere else in the apartment.
"In here," she answers.
Footsteps come into the room. He smiles at her, holding their infant son. "Is he giving you a hard time?"
"He was just waiting on you," she answers.
"He wasn't the only one was he?"
She shakes her head.
"Here, let me see him," he reaches for the baby. She stands up to meet him. She catches one whiff of him, and recoils. "You've been out?"
"I stopped to have a couple of drinks with the guys."
"You won your case?"
"Yeah," he answers.
"You smell like booze, and cigars. You can have him after you shower."
"Ok," he agrees.
She gets a phone call while he's in the shower. She slips into the bathroom.
"Mark," she knocks on the shower door.
"Yeah?"
"I've got to go to work."
"No."
"Honey I don't have a choice," she argues.
"I know, death doesn't ask you about your schedule."
"Obviously. If it didn't I haven't gone into labor during an autopsy."
"Go. I'll watch little man."
"Love you."
"Bye babe," he tells her from inside the shower.
Life always seems to knock us down when we least expect it. Some moments we live to regret for the rest of out lives. Not spending time with a dying loved one, or choosing to focus on school instead of being a kid. Putting work ahead of family. Leaving your two month old baby at home with a barely sober husband.
She opens the apartment door, and instantly she knows that something is wrong.
"Mark?" she calls out. No one answers her.
She steps into the kitchen. She finds a note on the fridge. -Had to go to work early. Called a babysitter for Benjamin. See you later. Happy Valentine's day. Love, Mark.-
She moves through the living room, removing her coat, tossing it on the couch. She pulls off her scarf, and gloves, laying them on the stand next to the couch.
"Hello?" she calls out. "Is anyone here?" She takes a breath, and after a moment of silence her heart skips a beat. With each step closer to her little boy's room her heart beats faster. She twists the knob, and pushes the door open. She finds the crib out of place. Her heart sinks as she steps into the room. She doesn't touch anything. She stops when she finds the broken window, leading to the fire escape. She feels her tears forming, and her breath hitching. She looks in the crib, and finds it empty. She looks out the window, and sees steps leading down the fire escape. She backs out of the room. When she reaches the hallway she slides down the wall. She rocks back, and forth, sobbing, as her fingers struggle to dial her cell phone.
"9-1-1 what is your emergency?"
"Someone has taken my baby," she cries.
She jerks into consciousness. She sits up in bed, struggling to catch her breath. She flips on her lamp, and looks at the clock. 3:11 AM. Another sleepless night. She slips out of her room, and takes a seat on the couch. She flips on the lamp, and turns on the lamp. She nearly jumps out of her skin when a hand touches her shoulder from behind. She turns around.
"Michelle..."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's ok."
"You still can't sleep?"
"No," she shakes her head.
"Today is the day?" she questions.
"Yeah," Cam nods.
The door comes open. A young man with brown hair, thick muscles, and big green eyes stares at them.
"Christopher?" Booth questions.
"Yeah," he nods.
"I'm agent Booth. I'm with the FBI. This is Dr. Brennan she's with the Jeffersonian."
"I couldn't save them."
"Save who?" Booth questions.
"The kids. I tried. When I got home the house was already on fire."
"Are you alone?" Temperance asks.
"No," he shakes his head. He turns and points to kids sitting on the couch watching a movie. "They were with me, when I went to the grocery store."
She stands in the doorway as the crime scene techs spray luminol. The room lights up. She cringes as they turn the lights back on.
"Who ever did this used a chemical to clean up any bodily fluids. We have no way of knowing how much blood there was."
"You think that he's dead?" she questions.
"Ma'am..." the police officer begins.
"Just tell me the truth."
"It's unlikely," he answers. He grabs an evidence bag. He holds it up to her.
"We found this in the laundry hamper," he reveals.
She stares wordlessly at a blue blanket with the name 'Benjamin' sewn in to it.
The officer waits for her to let him in.
"Come in," she offers.
He notices the bag sitting next to her.
"Going somewhere?"
"I've waited six months for something to change, but you have nothing new to tell me. I can't stand it here anymore."
"You know that the lab confirmed the blood on the blanket to belong to your son."
"Yes," she nods.
"I wanted to come tell you that we have a suspect. We matched one of the unidentified hairs to Emily Davis. She's known with three associates to have kidnapped several children, in at least three different states."
"You have no leads?"
"They kidnap a child, move to another town. Every time we get close they change identities and locations."
"So you're telling me that you just don't have the time to catch these people? Or possibly find my son?"
"I'm..."
"Don't say that you're sorry. How many of the children are dead?"
"We only suspect that one other child is dead. They aren't violent. The other child's suspected death was merely accident."
"Accident? That doesn't bring my son back."