It's half past five and Brennan and Booth are sitting in the conference room, passing mug shots between them. She sighs. She recognizes all five of the men in these photos, but none of them seem capable of kidnapping, but she's still new at using her gut and still unsure of it, so who knows? "This is useless. No one can tell what someone is capable of by looking at a picture. Sure, their criminal records are an indication of their past actions, but we need evidence, hard evidence. We have nothing." She pushes the chair back and stands up, leaving the room.
Booth leans forward, resting his chin against his clasped hands, his elbows digging into the tabletop. He sighs and closes his eyes.
The Agent watches Brennan walk out in a huff and then turns to Booth. "We're doing our best, Agent Booth."
He shifts. "Well, do better than that." He stands up and walks out, following his partner's lead. He meets up with Brennan in his office.
Brennan's standing by Booth's desk, looking at the picture of Christine prominently displayed for him to stare at while he's doing paperwork. She jumps when she hears footsteps. She sure is jumpy today, but who can blame her?
"I love that picture of her, especially her socks," Booth says, placing a hand on his partner's shoulder, glancing at the picture in the frame.
She nods and sighs. "Like father like daughter."
"Hey, we'll find her, Bones."
She sets the frame down on the desk and looks him square in the face. "No matter how many times you say it, it doesn't make it true."
He sighs. "Faith, not logic," he repeats.
"Faith is irrational. It's not going to find our daughter. It's not going to make this any easier, so why bother with it at all?" She slumps down in the chair and wipes a tear from her cheek.
"Having faith makes me feel better and whether you believe in it or not, it does make it easier. It helps, okay, Bones? It helps. Having faith that Christine will be okay, that we'll find her basically unharmed, makes each passing minute easier for me. It's keeping me from giving up." He pauses. "You know what kept me going when you were buried in that car? When the timer hit zero, telling us that you and Hodgins had run out of air, and everyone else was ready to give up? Faith. Faith in a higher power and faith in you. It's not irrational or silly or stupid. Faith is important."
She watches the wrinkle between his brows deepen with each word he says. She sighs. This is hardly a time for them to be arguing about such trivial things.
"Let yourself believe she's okay, Bones. It helps. Trust me."
She loves Christine, so she should be willing to do irrational things, like believe, have faith and hope, and pray that everything will be okay, right? She gives him a nod and lets out a breath.
He smiles at her, but it quickly fades when his phone rings. He picks it up off the desk and answers it. "Agent Booth." A minute later, his hand goes numb and the phone crashes to the floor.
"The kidnapper?"
He shakes his head. "No, um, they, uh, they found a body."
She blinks. "Where?"
He shifts. "At the park, in the bushes behind the swings."
She swallows. "That's where, that's where we're supposed to—." She's great with words, with getting to the point of things normally, but right now, she's a mess. She can't bring herself to say what she's thinking, so she's grateful Booth knows her well enough to decipher her babbling.
He nods. "It doesn't mean it's Christine, it doesn't mean it's her, okay? It doesn't."
"This your gut telling you that?"
"No, Bones." He pauses. "I'm gonna make a few calls, make a few threats, and get some answers." That's how he got them to agree to call him if they found anything in the first place.
She nods again. "Man of action," she whispers to herself and shifts on the chair she's sitting in. Her hands are shaking and her heart is racing, as the image of her baby girl lying in a ditch behind the swings, bruised, bloodied, naked, and lifeless takes over her mind. She begins to imagine her baby girl being too beat up to identify her by her face, so someone has to resort to dental records and x-rays to prove who she is. She's getting ahead of herself now. She doesn't even know if the body in the park was a girl, much less a child.
Booth hangs up the phone and looks over at his partner, who's in another world it seems like. "Temperance."
She tweaks an eyebrow at the sound of her name and turns her head. "Anything?"
He hesitates, "All they know right now is that the victim is young, around six to twelve months, female, and," he swallows, "there's evidence of, uh—."
She holds up her hand, not needing to hear anything else.
"Her face, uh, it's too, um, they can't tell—." He can hardly speak.
She nods. "How long has she been dead?"
He shrugs. "They wouldn't tell me, but it's gotta be more than a day if she's not recognizable, right?"
"Not necessarily. There are a lot of factors that—."
"Faith."
"I'm trying."
"They'll call back if they find anything—." He's cut off by his phone ringing. He glances at it and then opens up the message. He gasps and looks over at Brennan again.
She stands up and takes the phone from him. Her eyes fall to the picture and then back up at Booth. "Christine's bunny."
"He's messing with us, Bones. That's all."
She ignores him. "Booth, where did they find it?"
"Under the body," he barely manages to say.
Horrible place to stop, I know.
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