Booth sat in the silence. Alone.
The cell was big by prison cell standards. Approximately ten feet square. It housed a bed frame bolted firmly to the wall and floor, a thin mattress and a couple of blankets which were standard. He was lucky. A thick down filled comforter sat folded on the end of the bed. He also had a chiropractic pillow, provided by his lawyer. The ceramic toilet was relatively clean, but only because he had scrubbed it. It was devoid of a seat or cover, so he kept a newspaper to cover it. There was also a sink. His toothbrush, mouthwash, hairbrush and deodorant sat on a shelf above it. There was a second shelf above that, where he kept his spare underwear, tshirt and coveralls. And a chair, pushed under a desk of sorts. It was more like an oversized shelf bolted to the wall where he could sit and read and write letters. That was pretty much it.
It was dismal at best. Booth knew that some cells were fitted out with televisions, but he wasn't allowed to have one. There was too much on the news broadcasts about his case. They didn't want him knowing what was going on. He wasn't considered dangerous or at risk. But he was being treated like he was.
A bell rang and he stood up and stretched. It had been six weeks. It seemed more like six months. Being away from her was killing him. He missed her touch, her smile, her voice. He missed their daughter. He saw them of course, once a fortnight. Under supervision. It was demeaning. They weren't allowed to talk privately.
He was a federal prisoner, under investigation by the FBI for, as they put it, murdering three of their Delta Force Agents, whilst collating information about a conspiracy within the FBI. They completely glossed over the fact that Booth's home had been invaded and he was basically fighting for his life.
He stood at the door and waited, one hand pressed into the door frame. He stared at the floor, sucking on his bottom lip. A few minutes later, the click of the lock made him stand back a step, his hands in front of him, hanging limply in view. The door slid open and an officer nodded at him. "Booth" he said. Booth inclined his head "Graham". He followed the guard out and was escorted down the corridor. "Seeing the family today?" Officer Graham asked. "Hopefully" Booth said, "It's been a fortnight". "Must be tough" Graham said, genuinely. He actually liked Booth. He sort of knew him. Their boys had played hockey together at a camp a few years ago. He knew him to be a good family man, a loyal husband, and, as far as he knew, an honest FBI guy. But of course he had to keep his opinions to himself.
He opened the door at the end of the corridor and ushered Booth through. Booth looked up long enough to catch the man's eye "Thanks Graham" he said. Officer Graham nodded and closed the door behind him. Booth scanned the room. It was full of tables and chairs, most of them were occupied with men and their families. He frowned, holding his breath, then he saw her. He breathed out slowly.
She watched him walking towards her. She noted his shoulders were hunched, his back curved. He wasn't the tall, proud strong man she knew and loved. He looked like he was breaking. She needed to change that. He couldn't let them pull him down. She gave him her brightest smile and stood up, holding out her arms to him. An officer stepped up to the table and cautioned her. "Ma'am." he said. She glared at him. Six weeks. Six weeks since she had held him in her arms. Six weeks since she tasted his kiss. The last time she had touched him he was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. She still had nightmares about that night. But she would never tell him. She gave him the best part of her. The brightest part. The part of her that she knew he needed.
"Booth." she said simply, smiling at him. "You look good" she lied. Booth smiled and tilted his head, he knew she was lying, but then again so was he "I feel good. It's good to see you babe" he said, nodding at the officer who would stand next to the table while they visited. They sat down, he placed his hands, palms down on the table and stared at her. She looked tired, but she'd never tell him she was. She placed her hands on the table, their fingertips barely touching.
"Christine misses you. She couldn't come today. She has a cold" Brennan said. "Oh!" she reached down into her handbag and pulled out a sheet of paper holding it up where the guard could see it first, then placed it on the table. "She drew you a picture. See? There's you, and me and her." She pointed to each of the characters in the drawing. Booth smiled and shook his head "And what's that?" he asked pointing to a brown blob in the bottom corner.
Brennan smiled and laughed softly "That is our dog" she said. Booth's head lifted, a frown on his face "We have a dog now?" he said. Brennan shook her head "No. Not yet. But I am considering it. She's become a bit withdrawn Booth. She has nightmares. She cries for you at night. I'm doing my best, but. It's hard. Dad has been wonderful, letting us live with him. He said it's OK to get the dog if it's OK with you." she looked into his eyes, her bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit, eyes glistening with unfallen tears.
He swallowed and nodded, his hands tracing the drawing of his daughter "Yeah. Sure. Yes. OK Bones. Get her a puppy. It'll be great. I always wanted a dog." he said, trying not to let her see that he too was struggling with unfallen tears. Brennan shook her head and defied the rules, reaching out and covering his hand with hers, her fingertips tingling at the touch of his skin. He lifted his eyes and stared at her. "Ma'am, I'm sorry but" the guard said quietly. She pulled back her hand nodding "I know. I'm sorry." She looked up at the guard, a single tear trickling down her face. The guard swallowed hard. He hated this part of the job. They were just families who wanted to have some kind of comfort. He nodded looking around and stepped back "It's OK for a minute" he said, turning a blind eye.
Brennan reached out and grabbed Booth's hand once more, lifting it to her cheek. Just to feel his touch for one brief moment. Booth pulled his hand from hers "Don't. It's against the rules Bones" he said, his voice cracking. "but" she started. "So how is everyone? Cam? Sweets? Hodgins and Angie? Have you heard anything from Caroline?" he asked quietly. Brennan stared at her hand lying on the table. She didn't want to talk about them. She wanted to talk about him, she wanted to hold him, kiss him. Feel his warm breath on her face as he told her he loved her. "Bones?" his voice interrupted her.
"Um. They're fine. They're working hard on, things." she said, the inflection on the word things not escaping Booth. His one hope was that they had rescued enough of the encrypted data and would be able to build a case for him. But of course, they couldn't even talk about that. "Caroline has finally gotten clearance to come visit you. She's going to represent you. She told me to let you know, she'll be here to visit you on Friday." she said. Booth exhaled loudly and leaned back in his chair for a moment, rubbing at his forehead. That was a big step forwards, but he knew it was just the beginning. "That's great honey. Great. How are you?" he asked, leaning in as close as he could. "and tell the truth" he added.
Brennan shook her head and shrugged "I'm fine." She looked at him, shaking his head. "OK, I'm just getting by. I don't sleep. I find it difficult to eat, but I do it for Christine. And for you." she said. Booth nodded "Just keep pushing Bones. I promise you, things are going to work out. I feel it. They're nervous around me. They can't keep hiding things. That attack on our home, that opened a can of worms and they're gonna struggle to push em all back in. People noticed. I know that there's been a lot on the TV about it, not that I'm allowed to watch, but I can hear other people's TV's. I've heard enough to know there's going to be a huge investigation and it may not go well for the FBI. At some point, somebody is going to want to hear what I have to say. And I'm telling you Bones, I'll be ready."
A bell rang and Brennan frowned. "time goes too fast" she whispered. Booth sighed, "I know Bones. But I'm not going anywhere. Yet." He tried to joke. "I'll see you in a fortnight." he added.
Brennan stood up and stared at him, her bottom lip pushed out, her chin puckered "I love you Booth." He sat staring up at her, wanting nothing more than to jump up and grab her and run out of this place. "I know. I love you too baby" he said softly. She stared at the guard for a moment, turned and walked away from him. He sat for a moment, then stood up and turned, nodding at the guard and walked to the gate where he entered.
He sat back down on his bed with a thud, buried his head in his hands and let the tears fall. Just as he did every fortnight.
He finally stopped, mopping his face on his sleeve. He sniffed and lifted his head and looked at the picture his daughter had drawn. He stood up and using some cellotape stuck it to the wall above his desk. Hopefully they would allow him to keep it. It would depend on which guard was on duty and whether they considered it a secret message to him or not. idiots he thought to himself.
Friday. Hopefully Caroline will have some news for me. Hopefully.
He unbuttoned his orange jumpsuit, pulled his arms out of the sleeves and pushed it down low on his hips, tying the sleeves together. He pulled his t-shirt up over his head and threw it on the bed. He stood, arms up above his head, stretching. He dropped to the floor, pressing his hands into the concrete floor and began his regimine pushups, his arms, and shoulders flexing as they worked. He didn't really count, he just kept going until he felt his arms begin to burn and the sweat was running down his arms. He dropped his chest to the floor, feeling the cold from the concrete seeping into his burning skin.
He rolled onto his back and sucking in his stomach lifted his knees and began doing crunches. His body was burning, the muscles in his stomach were shaking with the strain as he pushed himself to keep going. He grunted with every curl as the pain grew stronger. Finally his muscles just wouldn't lift him any more and he collapsed back onto the floor, panting as he stared at the peeling ceiling. He finally stood up and lifted his arms above his head. His muscles were rock hard, pumped up with lactic acid, burning as he started star jumps. His legs were wobbling underneath him, but he kept going. He needed the distraction. He needed the pain.
Finally his body would not take any more. He stood in the middle of his cell, perspiration running over the contours of his body. Dripping off his jaw onto his chest, running over the curves of his pecs, onto the rippled washboard that was his stomach. A small pool of salty water catching in his tight high navel, then running down the fine downy hair that disappeared down into the fabric of his jumpsuit. He bent over, his hands pressed into his thighs, trying to catch his breath. He finally stood up straight and lifted his arms, flexing them, watching the muscles bulge and ripple. It was the only thing that he had complete control of. For now.
He just had to focus and trust those outside working for his freedom.
He would continue to be just as he was now. Resolute.
And alone.