It was that time of night where one could smell the damp air, feel the dew start to settle, and see the sky lightening from an opaque blackness to a sickly dreary gray. Brennan sat in the front seat of her car and placed her head against the steering wheel, at a loss. Her thoughts flickered back to Booth's hospital room, and an onslaught of images pounded her nerves. Cullen's outraged and disappointment in his best agent. Booth's denial, first firm and then almost pleading, haunted her. Everything had fallen apart in that room and Brennan did nothing to stop it…
(Earlier)
Booth felt like there was cotton lining the inside of his mouth and lead in his stomach. His head pounded fiercely and his body ached as if he'd been steamrolled. His vision was hazy and the insistent beeping of the heart monitor would drive him insane before dawn. His memory was vague, but he was slowly recollecting the events that landed him in the E.R. He didn't like what he was remembering. The pictures were broken, the words jumbled. Booth shuddered when the most clarifying memory was him: that thing that was intruding on Booth's life and dreams, which ultimately sent Booth into spasms. The room spun slightly, and his heart rate picked up considerably as he waited for nightmare to fall again. Instead, he saw Brennan step from the shadows. He sighed in relief.
"Bones?' he croaked.
She looked haggard, and he realized that she was the one who found him. He recalled her soothing voice and the way she held him while he was caught in the throes of something he couldn't beat. "He's here…" Booth started to wonder if his partner had a sudden change of mind. Maybe she sensed something in his apartment. Maybe she still thought he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Maybe he was dreaming the entire episode. Maybe he was already in the looney bin. Whichever reason drove Brennan to investigate his cryptic message was the reason why he was alive. His sore body filled with gratitude, and he tried to give her a lopsided smile.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes…"
She frowned, her eyes narrowing with what Booth alarmingly thought was disgust. "Whoa, Bones, it was only a compliment—"
Brennan seemed to come unscrewed, and she cut him off quickly and mercilessly. "Why didn't you tell me Booth? Why?"
Booth crossed his arms over his chest, confused and indignant. "About what happened? I tried to, but you wouldn't listen to me…" the room shook slightly and Booth caught a glance of the black phantom. Brennan watched as his eyes widened, half with fear and half with triumph.
"There! Bones, please tell me you didn't just see that?"
Brennan gritted her teeth. Forgetting the promise she made to herself to remain objective, she snapped, "Sorry Booth, all I see is someone who I thought was my friend still feeling the after-affects of phencyclidine. Why didn't you tell me you had a drug problem?"
"Drug problem? What the hell Bones?" Booth asked hoarsely.
"PCP, Booth. PCP. You almost overdosed tonight. It's what's been causing your hallucinations, not some 'ghost', which by the way could never happen in the first place and I thought we were partners, I could have gotten you help—" Brennan babbled. She froze in mid-sentence, trying to collect herself. Quietly, she finished, "You don't know how…hurt…and disappointed I am, Booth."
Brennan met Booth's eyes, which had turned cold. Calmly, he answered, "Hurt? Sorry, Bones, but you think you were betrayed somehow? How do you think I feel? My best friend and partner clearly doesn't know me. I would never, ever touch drugs."
Brennan felt a pang of remorse. "What am I supposed to think? I'm sure Ghost Boy put them into your system…"
Booth actually smirked. "That was below the belt, but you just made a joke, so I forgive you."
"This isn't the time to be funny."
Booth sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what to tell you. You just have to believe me—I'm not on drugs, but I can't explain why this happened to me. I'm sorry."
Brennan exhaled and slumped her shoulders. This was Booth…surely there had to be some logical way…
The door to the room burst open, and Brennan grimaced when Cullen came stalking in. Not even acknowledging Brennan, Cullen lit into Booth.
"When I received a phone call saying that an Agent Booth was being treated for a PCP overdose, I could have sworn they had the name wrong. So this is why I am here, 4:30 in the morning, investigating instead of a narcotics agent!" Cullen jabbed his finger at Booth and bellowed, "What is wrong with you Booth?"
Booth paled visibly. He understood immediately why Cullen had been informed, and knew the Federal Bureau of Investigations' newly adopted policy on drug use. "With all due respect, sir, I'm not on drugs."
Cullen paced angrily and demanded, "What's your proof? Hmm? Why are you sitting in a hospital bed, after almost overdosing on said drug?"
Defeated, Booth sat back and replied, "I don't have evidence. I can only give you my word."
Cullen became very still and he stared intently at Booth. "There is a reason why we have this new policy. Everything, every case and every single piece of evidence or suspect you've come across will be placed under doubt and scrutiny."
"But I didn't—"
Cullen cut him off with a swipe of his hand. "You're suspended until an Internal Affairs agent investigates your current cases. You'll have to go in front of the board. From there you'll either be placed in rehab, reassigned…Booth you could get fined. Or jailed. Or fired. Either way, this is not how I imagined starting my day. You were my best homicide agent. What the hell happened?"
Booth shrunk back into his bed. In an almost shocked and clearly defeated voice, he murmured, "My gun and badge should be with my other personal affects." Embarrassedly, Booth looked up to Brennan and asked, "Could you…"
Wordlessly, Brennan went to the cardboard box full of Booth's belongings and handed over what Cullen wanted. The deputy director breathed out through his nose forcefully, as if disgusted. Brennan searched his face and discovered that his eyes were apologetic. Brennan felt another stab of regret as she realized she was becoming more like Booth everyday.
Cullen left quietly, leaving Booth and Brennan alone in strained silence. Brennan broke it, awkwardly saying, "I should go…"
Booth nodded mutely. Brennan hugged her arms and left without saying goodbye. She didn't know what to believe and it scared her. She despised that feeling. Leaving the hospital, she couldn't help but think, how could this have happened? This is Booth…. Much too exhausted to think, she numbly made her way to the car. Morning would come soon, and she dreaded breaking the bad news to the team. She wished that this nightmare would end soon.
Too distracted to notice, Brennan completely missed the shadowy reflection in her windshield. A whisper filled the air and reached Brennan's ears, as if tickling her. "Up the stair they go…" Glancing up from her slunked-over-the-steering-wheel position, Brennan thought she saw a flutter of movement. Squinting her eyes, she searched outside, finding nothing but an empty parking lot. Disconcerted, Brennan turned the ignition and hurriedly made her way back to the Jeffersonian, towards the rising sun.