Twenty-one Weeks at Quantico

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: When the FBI establishes a pilot program for consultants to receive training at the FBI academy, Brennan and Booth clash over whether she should enroll. AU.

15. T-plus Four Weeks Until Graduation, Part I

The final four weeks of the program would prove to be the trainees most intense… most demanding… and most significant in as far as determining who would pass and complete the training... and who would fail and washout. By the end of the fifth week, much as Harding earlier had suspected, Brennan's scores had improved. She had all but aced the forensics portion, and those scores helped to compensate for her poor performance in the behavioral sciences unit. Really, the only thing that would result in her not being able to successfully complete the training would be if she left some portion of it uncompleted.

Monday morning of week 4 dawned bright and early. It was sunny and crisp, a refreshing breeze blowing, and, fortunately, no precipitation of any kind. It was three days before Christmas, and the trainees would only be working the Monday and the Tuesday of the new week before they broke for the holidays. They had long ago given up matching calendar weeks to the training schedule weeks… the holidays and delay that occurred when the accident in Hogan's Alley had shut things down for several days had resulted in a slight shift anyway. The program was now end during the first week in February, with graduation occurring on February 2nd, baring any other delays and/or setbacks.

Week 4 also symbolized the most complex of the major joint tactical and munitions scenarios the trainees would take part in, and, as such, were considered to be the single most important assessment remaining for the trainees to complete, aside from the final exam. Booth decided to conduct the testing alphabetically, and so Brennan was the first trainee who would be spend time in the Alley as a member of a fully simulated FBI field operation scenario. The Alley was alive with FBI personnel, trainees, and actors who would be participating to make the environment as realistic as possible. The only thing that Brennan knew going in was that the scenario was some type of Hostage Negotiation exercise that would test the core principals of all the things she had spent the last seventeen weeks learning in both theoretical and practical knowledge areas. She was also told, vaguely, that each trainee would face a highly personalized element in the scenario designed to test each person's durability and responses to extreme emotional pressure and unexpected duress.

When she woke up that morning, in a strange but, similar mindset to the one she had had the morning that Rose Harding and the rest of them had been in the accident several week's before... Brennan had been quite excited and looking forward to the day's activities.

Again, her inability to look at people and events around her that foreshadowed the occurrence of certain things happening in her life made Brennan's life more difficult. Her first clue that perhaps she should not have been as positive about the impending events as she was should have come from her knowledge of Booth's attitude. He slept little the night before, restlessly tossing and turning while she slept soundly. In the morning, when they awoke, he was quiet and thoughtful and reserved to the point of moroseness… and the only thing she could imagine that might be contributing to his foul mode was that Parker had spent Sunday night with them, and Booth insisted he would "get Parker to where he needed to go" that morning, thus upsetting his normal routine. Again, the wording was vague and should have alerted Brennan off that something was going on… particularly when Parker looked as if he were keeping such a large secret that he would burst from excitement… but, Brennan was distracted… and didn't… so missed crucial data that she would later regret in the coming day.

Once again, Brennan was suited up in full tactical gear. She was the only trainee in the Alley, as this was her exercise to pass… or fail. Booth stood next to her on the perimeter that had been set up against a throng of people in front of the Alley's post office. Brennan was in a strategic position watching things unfold, as the actors took position and the FBI support personnel fell into line. Booth, dressed much as Brennan had seen him on active field exercises, looked tired… and stressed… and… apprehensive. His sunglasses shaded his eyes from Brennan's vision, and the rest of his face was hidden behind the walkie-talkie as he was going through status checks. His role in the scenario today was both as its coordinator… and as Brennan's superior office in the guise of his role as her liaison.

Finally, when Brennan glanced as her watch and saw that it was almost ten o'clock, the time the scenario would begin, she felt more than saw Booth watching her.

She looked up and smiled at him. He nodded in return.

"Everything okay, Bones?" he asked.

Shrugging, she smiled a small smile again at him and said, "Yes, I'm just a little nervous with apprehension and excitement, that's all."

"Just remember," Booth said, "You know the procedures. You've drilled on them. Fall back on the training, do what you've been trained to do, and you'll be fine."

She nodded. "Thanks, Booth."

He gave her a light clasp on the shoulder before he turned away and glanced at his watch.

"Attention, Tac Teams Alpha, Bravo, Delta, and Gamma, this is 22705. Scenario will commence in two minutes. Repeat, scenario will commence in t-minus two minutes. As a reminder, all weapons and body armor have been outfitted with standard radio transmitters and receivers. If you engage your weapon, or are fired upon, your weapon's transmitter will begin to blink bright red. If the transmitter stops blinking and flashes a solid red, it means you have been hit and are dead in the water. I can now tell you that the scenario we are running is a political rally for US Senator Arnold Ramone. He is being held hostage by three suspects, armed and dangerous. Three other civilian hostages are also being held along with Ramone. From this point out, 67785 will be coordinating movement. Our goal, ladies and gentlemen, is to secure the Senator's safe release at all costs. His safe rescue is the primary objective," Booth's voice stopped. He then looked at his watch, took a whistle out of his pocket, and blew it once.

The first two hours found Brennan coordinating the four teams as FBI negotiators attempted to reason with the suspects. Brennan continued to receive status updates, but remained on the fringe of the perimeter that had been set up to separate her command post from the suspects and so hadn't actually gotten a look at the suspects or hostages.

"Tac Team Bravo, this is 67785. Please advise on the status of the hostages," Brennan called through her headset.

"Roger, 67785. Can confirm that all four hostages are still visible and unharmed, although they are being held at gunpoint by Suspect Alpha and Suspect Bravo. Suspect Delta is still arguing with 34565."

Looking down at her clipboard, Brennan responded, "Tac Team Bravo, can you confirm identities of the hostages yet?"

"Negative, 67785. We]re still working on that. Only known information is that suspects hold four hostages. Latino, male, 50s, is Ramone…."

"And the other three?" Brennan asked in curiosity, suddenly realizing that those particular details were not in her reports… nor did she remember having been told in any briefing.

Booth holding his own clipboard, looked up at Brennan and stopped writing when the response came.

"Confirm, 67785, three remaining hostages IDs are unknown… however, they are Caucasian male, 40s. Caucasian male, adolescent. Caucasian infant... appears to be female."

Brennan felt something tighten in her stomach. Up until that particular moment, she had almost forgotten Booth's early warning that the test would have some type of personalized aspect to it. She had been so caught up in the actual events of the exercise that she didn't remember that particular detail until the moment the voice came over the air.

Moving towards where an FBI tech manned her audio/visual computer link up, Brennan asked, "Do we have a visual on the suspects?"

The tech banged on his keyboard and a grainy looking image came up. "Best we have, Agent Brennan. Tac Team Delta since has positive visual confirmation."

"Where is Tac Team Delta?" Brennan asked.

The tech was about to respond when suddenly several pops shattered the air, followed by several yells, and the sudden movement of bodies. Booth looked on from about ten feet away from where Brennan stood. As she had been trained, she immediately ducked for cover as she realized something was happening. Her walkie-talkie sputtered to life as a voice came over.

"67785, this is Tac Team Bravo. Shots have been fired, repeat, shots have been fired. 34565 is down, and it appears that Suspect Delta has been injured as well."

Brennan reached for her walkie-talkie, she was just about to press a button, when the walkie-talkie came to life and a different voice came through on the channel.

"67785, this is Tac Team Bravo. We have lost our visual confirmation of the suspects, and request immediate assistance. Suspect Delta managed to get several rounds off, and three of my men are down."

"Tac Team Bravo, confirm your location," Brennan responded.

A short time later, Brennan, followed by two other FBI agents, armed and on alert, moved in the direction of where Tac Team Bravo had been stationed. Booth had separated from her and removed himself so that he could watch things from the roof of the sub shop next to the post office. From his vantage point, he could see both the suspects and Brennan's team. He carried his own walkie-talkie and scope with him even though he didn't really need the later to see what was going on down below him.

When Brennan arrived at the team's last reported location, she found that three members of Tac Team Bravo were on the ground with the red lights on their weapons light a solid red. The fourth member, a man who Brennan vaguely recalled but couldn't place at the moment, was still upright, but he was clutching his side as if he had been injured. His own weapon's light was blinking red.

"Report, Agent Torres," Brennan said, somehow the name coming to her. The two officers she had brought with her flanked her side.

"34565 was saying something to Suspect Delta… there was no indication that there was any change in the conversation between either one of them… and, then, Suspect Delta just got this crazy look on his face and aimed the gun. He took out Eddie and three of my guys before we even knew what happened. I-I managed to get a shot off at Suspect Delta without risking the proximity of the hostages, ma'am."

Brennan nodded. "Good work… don't worry… we'll get you out of here soon. We've already radioed for an ambulance."

She then turned and looked in the direction of the suspects. Her new vantage point was still somewhat covered… but this time… the two remaining suspects could now see her and… she could see the suspects and hostages.

"Oh, God—" she breathed.

"Ma'am?" one of the agents asked.

Brennan blinked… once…twice… three times. No, it still hadn't gone away.

"Agent Brennan?" one of the agents asked again.

"We're still here, pigs!" one of the suspects said. He was scared, and he was uncertain what to do next. He yanked Ramone harshly as he said, "We see you cops, and if you don't get us what we want, Ramone and everyone else DIES!"

Brennan clutched at her riffle tightly. Her hands were turning white. One of the agents turned to the other and exchanged a knowing look. This was it.

"67785, this is 22705. Report," came Booth's voice through the walkie-talkie. If it had been anyone else's voice, Brennan doubted it could have cut through her shock. "Repeat, 67785, this is 22705. Status report."

Her hand shaking, Brennan reached for the walkie-talkie. She gulped for air and then said hastily, "22705, this is 67785. Confirm four agents down, one injured from Tac Team Bravo, including 34565."

"And the hostages?" Booth asked. If Brennan didn't know better, she would have sworn his voice tightened a bit when he spoke.

"Can confirm hostages, including Ramone, seem to be uninjured, but Suspect Alpha is acting erratic and shouting verbal threats in the direction of Tac Team Bravo's current position," Brennan answered tersely.

At this the walkie-talkie chirped again as a new voice came through the radio. "Tac Team Gamma confirms that we now have positive visual confirmation of Suspect Alpha and Suspect Bravo. It appears that their moments are becoming more erratic, 67785. Recommend that we initiate a shooting solution to liberate the hostages."

"Can you confirm a positive shot, Tac Team Gamma?" Brennan asked.

"Of Suspect Bravo, affirmative," came the response.

"And, Suspect Alpha?" Brennan asked.

"Negative. We do believe that you are currently in the best location to take that particular shot, ma'am."

And there is what… Brennan swallowed once and said nothing. She again clutched her riffle very tightly.

"67785, please acknowledge confirmation or denial of Tac Team Gamma's assessment," Booth's voice responded.

Forcing herself to breath, Brennan moved as she was the one who was assigned to the long shot weapons in her group. Moving her scope, she glanced specifically at the suspects… and hostages… and then saw, specifically… for the first time, the faces of the civilians.

"Oh, God," she breathed again. "Parker."

Hiding behind the leg of the older man, Parker was the most terrified Brennan had ever seen him. However, what twisted the knife she currently felt most keenly in her stomach was the fact that the man he was hiding behind wore a suit, had short, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes… and carried a shrieking infant covered by a pink blanket in his arms protectively.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh God—" Brennan mumbled.

"67785, repeat, please acknowledge confirmation or denial of Tac Team Gamma's assessment," Booth's voice came again.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. It's not Booth. He's not down there. It's not Booth, that's not Chrissy, Brennan shook her head harder. He's on the radio monitoring the exercise. That's *not* him… that's *not* my baby.

Swallowing, Brennan took the walkie-talkie and managed to croak, "22705, 67785 can confirm Tac Team Gamma's assessment. I—" She paused as she forced herself to take finish speaking. "I have a positive shot," Brennan choked.

It was no longer than a split second, but Booth's voice came back. "67785, please repeat."

At this, Brennan felt anger flare in her. Fight or flight. Which would it be? That's normally how she responded to things, wasn't it… fight or flight? Fight… fight… fight.

"22705, I have a goddamn shot," Brennan spat.

"67785, confirmed. Suspect Alpha is holding Senator Ramone hostage. Agent Brennan, your orders are to take the shot as soon as you have a clear line of sight," Booth said.

Brennan felt what little blood she had remaining in her face suddenly drain. She clutched the walkie-talkie fiercely as she said, "But, Suspect Bravo is holding the three civilian hostages. If I take a shot at Suspect Alpha, Suspect Bravo will take out the civilians."

"You have no proof of that, 67785," came Booth's firm voice.

Brennan was about to respond when a new voice joined the discussion. "This is 67812 of Tac Team Gamma, I have a confirmation on Suspect Bravo if you can get Suspect Alpha out of the picture, 67785."

"Roger, 67812. This is 22705, standby." Booth paused. He then said calmly, "Agent Brennan, take the shot."

Brennan looked through the scope again. Parker—Booth—the baby. God, oh God, oh God, Brennan was chanting in her mind. That's my baby… that's Chrissy… God, oh God, oh God.

"67785, respond please," Booth's voice came.

Brennan closed her eyes. Even though she didn't know for certain, she was positive she could hear Parker's whimpers and the baby's screams.

God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…..

"Agent Brennan, respond please," Booth said again.

"I-I can't," she finally responded in a voice so low, it was almost a whisper.

"Do you have a confirmed shot?" Booth repeated.

"Yes, but—" She was crying now… not loudly… she wasn't sobbing or making any noises to betray it… but tears had started to fall down her cheeks as her tear ducts could no longer drain her excess tears quickly enough.

"Agent Brennan, TAKE THE SHOT."

The male suspect holding the male civilian and the baby suddenly jerked him forward and yelled towards Brennan, "I'm serious, man… anyone so much as blinks, and I splatter their brains all over the sidewalk."

God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…..

Her resolve firming at those words, Brennan steadied herself and prepared to take the shot. Trust the training, Booth had told her. She had a job to do. She had to trust that Tac Team Gamma would do their job just as she did hers. She had to follow her orders. She had to… all she had to do was aim and pull the trigger….

And, then, the baby began to wail again.

Chrissy… oh, God… my baby… Chrissy.

"Please help us!" Parker yelled. "Please help us! Please! I don't want to die." He then began to cry again, although, for the distance, Brennan couldn't tell that they were largely crocodile tears.

Brennan flinched. As Parker's yells became louder, the baby's cries intensified, again.

Parker… Chrissy… oh, God…. Booth….

"Agent Brennan, Senator Ramone's life is in danger. Our primary objective is to secure his safety…." Booth repeated.

Parker… Chrissy… Booth… Chrissy… the baby. Oh, God... what... it's not the same... when did this happen...? When did it change? Oh, God... it's not me anymore. It's her... I-I... I can't do this to her... I... oh, God... what if I do to her what they did to me... I can't... I won't... oh, God...

"I-I…" her fingers shook as she clasped the riffle, epiphanies and fear overwhelming her ability to think. "I-I-I…."

"Agent Brennan," Booth pressed.

Chrissy… the baby… the baby… my daughter… the baby… my child… Chrissy….I can't... won't... can't... Chrissy...

"If you don't take the shot, Senator Ramone WILL DIE," Booth said. "Agent Brennan, this is your final warning… this is your last chance, or you will fail this scenario. I am ordering you, as your superior officer, TAKE. THE. DAMN. SHOT."

And, then the baby screamed again… and Brennan snapped. She fell to her knees, crying… and said, "I can't do it—not while that bastard still has the civilians…."

"Shoot!" Booth yelled.

"I can't do it…" Brennan shook her head, whimpered. "I can't do it…."

The two agents looked to each other, and then back to Brennan, and one of them reached for their radio. "22705, the shot has been lost."

At that, a whistle blew, and suddenly the entire atmosphere in the Alley changed. People began to move and to reorganize now the exercise was over. It took Brennan a minute to realize it. At some point, one of the agents offered her a hand, but she waved it off. Wobbling a bit on shaky feet, Brennan pulled herself up… and hastily wiped the tears from her eyes.

Moving in the direction of where she knew Booth would be located at the original point where the perimeter had been initially established, Brennan marched with purpose as she steeled herself for what was to come... When she saw him, it was almost the exact same moment that he looked eyes with her.

"Agent Brennan—"

She bit her lip as she stopped in front of him. She threw her riffle on the ground and followed it with the walkie-talkie, her side arm, and her vest. She then took her badge and threw it on top of the pile.

Booth looked up at her, watching in worry, as she continued to shed each piece of her gear.

When she had finished, he took off his sunglasses and said quietly, "Bones…."

And, then, finally, Brennan looked up and acknowledged him. She said only five simple words, but the agony and fury in her voice as she said them, betrayed much, much more.

"You son of a bitch."

"Bones—"

Booth never got a chance to finish whatever it was that he was going to say because Brennan… whose hands had been clasped since she had finished dropping her gear… her right fist tightened as she swung back and hit him as hard as she could and knocked him to the ground. Shaking her head once, she didn't pause to see if she had hurt him or not, as she stormed past him and out of the Alley.

About an hour later, Brennan, still clad in her FBI field uniform, stood in front of her father's door. She was sobbing, as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Oh, honey," he said.

Brennan pulled away from him, and with a shake of her head, she whispered, "Where is she?"

Max nodded, and Brennan turned in the direction of where she knew Max kept the baby's playpen.

And, suddenly, there she was…. staring up at her mother as she held one alphabet block in one hand and another alphabet block in the other. The outside neutral observer would say that Chrissy gave her mother a look of intense displeasure that eerily mirrored Brennan's own reaction when her work with a skeleton was interrupted. However, Chrissy's stare apparently had little effect on Brennan as her mother swiftly scooped her up, carried her back to the couch, and hugged the baby as tightly as she could… much to her daughter's annoyance. Soon, the baby's howls of frustration joined Brennan's choked sobs. And, this time… instead of Booth… this time it was Max who sat down, and pulled his daughter into a reassuring embrace, as both girls continued to cry.

A few hours later, Max wasn't surprised when he found a very harried looking Booth… sporting the beginnings of a very, very nasty black eye, standing on his doorstep.

"Is she here?" he breathed.

Max sighed. He nodded to his son-in-law, and the two stepped into the hallway as Max pulled the door shut behind him. Looking at Booth, taking in his appearance, Max said simply, "Yes."

"I have to see her—" Booth said instantly.

"That wouldn't be a very good idea at the moment," Max said. "Even if I wanted to let you inside, she's asleep. Actually, both she and the baby *finally* fell asleep about half an hour ago." Max pursed his lips as he said, "Booth, do you remember the day we had that chat about Tempe and my grandchild before the baby was born?"

Booth merely nodded.

"Do you happen to remember the specifics of the conversation... you know... the ones where I said if I ever saw Tempe *or* my grandchild crying because of your actions, I was going to have to react in kind?"

"Yes," Booth sighed.

"Can you give me one good reason why… after I've spent the past four hours holding Tempe as she alternated between sobbing hysterically and almost crushing Chrissy to death because she was hugging her so tightly, that today does not merit some type of reaction on my part against you?" Max asked.

"I—" Booth deflated immediately. He shook his head as he said, "No."

Max nodded. He stopped for a moment and then pointed at Booth's eye, where it had started to swell and was discolored in a nasty fleshy mash of dark blue, purple, red, and black. "Did Tempe do that to you?"

Booth could only nod slowly in response as he said nothing.

Max chuckled. ""You're a good kid because, despite your partial confession there… I don't think you're completely to blame for what's turned Tempe into this weeping basket case… and seeing how my daughter has apparently already kicked your ass, I don't really see the need to do so at the moment, but, you should know that whatever happened today at Quantico - and, I have to admit, I'm still not one hundred percent certain… whatever it was - it was bad, so bad that you need to back off and give her some time. In addition to the crying and clutching the baby for hours, she spent the rest of it just shaking and staring at the wall, Booth, so you need to back off for a minute and let her deal with whatever it is that's happened... that's *happening* to her."

"I—I have to see her, Max," Booth mumbled. "It was... bad... so bad... she... she took it much harder than I ever thought she would... God... I have to see her, explain to her..."

"I know," Max agreed. "I know," he repeated. "Just… not tonight, okay?"

Booth seemed to be weighing his choices as Max patted him on the shoulder. "Tomorrow, kid… I promise… I'll bring them home both tomorrow. But, for now… just give her some space, huh?"

Reluctantly, Booth nodded. "Okay."

"I'll call you if there are any changes, okay?" Max said.

His head hung low, Booth nodded again. "Okay."

With no where else to go, Booth went back to their apartment. Immediately, he knew that it felt empty… alien… strange, without either one of them there. Trudging inside, Booth glanced at the table that stood behind the couch where Brennan had proudly displayed the photo of her and the baby sleeping that he had framed and given to her as an early Christmas gift. His throat tightened as he reached and grabbed it. Bringing it with him as he sat on the couch, Booth merely stared at it for a very long time until, at some point, he too finally fell asleep.

-TBC-