Vigilante Justice

From Chapter 1:

"Well I guess we have to eat somewhere. It might as well be at a restaurant."

"Great. I'll drive," Booth offered, waiting in anticipation for the usual objection.

"Okay," she said, surprising Booth with her passivity. Wait, what was wrong with her? She always sparred over the right to drive with him. He waited by the door, watching with concern, as she silently ducked into her office to retrieve her purse and jacket.

Chapter 2: Babysitting Bones

"Thanks for dinner, Booth."

Temperance Brennan leaned back in the passenger seat of Booth's SUV and smiled contentedly. He glanced over at her as he drove. The CD currently playing was soft jazz; Brennan had a hint of a smile on her lips. This was the closest to relaxed that Booth had seen her since early this morning when he'd sped to her apartment in response to her frightened call.

"At the risk of saying 'I told you so"—I told you this was a good idea."

"Yes, Booth. I remember. And you were quite right; I enjoyed it. My car is on the second level of the parking garage, over to the right." She pointed to direct him.

They were back at the Jeffersonian picking up Brennan's car. Booth pulled in smoothly next to Brennan's silver sports coupe and put his black SUV in park, waiting for her to get in and start her car. Most of the garage was rather dark even though flood lights streamed from all four corners. Russ's words of warning from earlier that day suddenly came back to darken Booth's mood. He wasn't about to drop her off at let her drive home alone.

"I'll follow you home and make sure you get in safely. Don't even try to talk me out of it. Until I get the 'all clear' from Russ, I'm your new bodyguard, 24-7." He stared her down, daring her to object.

She sighed dramatically. "I guess it would be pointless to argue. As long as you're driving me home, why don't you come up for a drink?"

Booth smiled. "I'd love to."

She backed out and took the ramp to the street, not looking back until she'd pulled out and was headed home. Glancing in her rear-view mirror she could see the silhouette of Booth's thick hair and strong shoulders as he tailed her. A streetlight illuminated his face for a split second, and even though she looked back to the road ahead and concentrated again on driving, the image remained burned in her brain. His deep-set eyes had flashed and she'd seen his features set with grim determination. He'd been light and charming during dinner, which had done more to lift her spirits than he would ever know, but that brief glimpse in the mirror revealed how utterly serious he was about watching over her. Brennan was instantly filled with an overpowering sense of gratitude, so much that she felt tears stinging behind her eyelids.

She tried to be a good friend, to be loyal to her circle of friends and family, but she felt like she often fell short. People just weren't her thing, and even the ones she'd die for she couldn't figure out how to really live with. She always ended up saying the wrong thing or being too focused on facts instead of feelings. She often had the painful sensation that she lived her life on the outside of other's lives, her nose pressed against the glass looking in. Instead she had become absorbed in her work, and while she was one of the best in her field and a well-known author, some days it was a cold substitute for human companionship.

Booth was the exception, although she had never understood why they clicked so well. They really shouldn't like each other. He was her polar opposite in so many ways. A self-proclaimed jock that could charm anyone he chose, he had natural charisma; everyone he met remembered him, especially women. Street-smart, intuitive, impatient and action-oriented, he should have been the last person on earth with whom she would become so attached. And yet she trusted Booth without reservation. She knew that even when they disagreed, he was on her side. He always defended her, protected her, cared about her feelings, and wanted to hear everything she had to say.

The information he'd related to her at dinner ran through her mind again and she was struck by how personally involved Booth was in this problem that was really her concern, not his. Although she also knew that wherever her safety was an issue she couldn't keep Booth away. And the truth was the thought of facing this situation alone was frightening.

Booth had spent the day holed up somewhere with Max. Her Dad had explained to Booth that he'd tried twice to remove himself from the circle of criminals that he'd gotten involved with shortly after his marriage and both times he'd fallen back in with them. The first time he and his family had assumed new identities and tried to start a new life; the second time he'd run with his wife into hiding, leaving Russ and Temperance behind in the hopes they would not be touched by the hornet's nest of trouble that dogged his steps.

"So why did he make contact with this guy?" Brennan had asked Booth. After all Max had been through over the years, Brennan couldn't understand why he'd go looking for trouble.

"The guy's name is Andrew Carson. He worked with the Deputy Director who…"

"Who my Dad gutted, hung on a pole and burned?"

"That's the one. Your Dad was having lunch with Russ when Carson walked into the restaurant and sat at a table near them. After Max stared for a while, Russ asked him what was up. Max pointed at the guy—I know, stupid, right? Of course Carson recognized him. For some reason, Max decides to go introduce himself and Russ too. Carson had already noticed him; maybe Max figured he might as well confront him or something. He finds out Carson is working at the FBI from the guy's lunch companion. Russ had to drag him out of there because he got visibly upset. Carson follows him out and has words with Max in the parking lot. Then yesterday Russ is run off the road."

"Was Russ with you and Dad today?"

"Max said he was recovering. But he also said he's not seriously hurt," Booth hastened to add when Bones' face filled with alarm.

Brennan had chewed on this information silently, wondering why Carson was threatened enough to attempt murder. Was he afraid of losing his job? Did her Dad know something from his criminal past that could implicate Carson?

She parallel-parked at the curb in front of her apartment building and Booth pulled in directly behind her. He was at her side almost before she'd finished unfastening her seat-belt.

"Lock it," he commanded, as if she didn't get out of her car and lock it up on her own every night. Bones scowled in his direction, but he ignored it. He walked her into the building, his eyes darting into the shadows as he hurried her along, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders. Okay; maybe she could get used to this bodyguard stuff.

When they had gone inside her apartment and Booth had studiously locked and dead-bolted the door, Bones flopped on the couch. Booth flopped down next to her.

"Whoa. Long day. I need a drink. Didn't I hear something about a drink?" He hinted. He leaned his head on the back of the couch and looked over at her hopefully. His jean-covered legs were comfortably propped on the coffee table and his arms were spread along the back of the couch. He rolled his neck, trying to stretch the tight muscles. He certainly knew how to make himself at home.

"I thought you might like some of that Scotch you gave me for Christmas."

She got up and pulled a glass out of the cupboard. The sound of ice clattering into the glass made Booth sigh and close his eyes in anticipation. When she came out of the kitchen and handed him the drink, he had sunk several inches lower on the couch than before she gone in. This booze was going to have him snoring in minutes, she thought. She wanted a few more answers before that happened.

"Ah, the good stuff," he said approvingly after a slow sip. "I gave you this for Christmas? I have remarkably good taste."

"Yes, you do. Booth, you haven't told me yet where Dad and Russ are right now. They're still here in Washington, aren't they? What are they going to do?"

"I did some asking around today and learned that Carson has apparently cashed in on some leave time and left the city. Max thinks he knows where he went and he's determined to follow him and confront him. I feel like there's something Max isn't telling me, though."

"I have the same feeling. Booth, I think I'm going to take some leave, too. I have quite a bit saved up."

Booth sat up straight, his eyes wide with alarm in spite of how tired he was. He almost spilled his whiskey.

"And do what?"

"Keep Russ and Dad from doing something that will get them thrown in jail. Based on prior experiences, there's a good chance that Dad is planning to murder Carson."

"Yeah, that thought occurred to me, too. But Bones, I'm not letting you go after them. It's not safe. They have street smarts, at least. You don't. Hey; I'm not trying to put you down, but you know in your heart, I'm right," Booth explained when she angrily turned away from him.

Brennan left and went to pour herself a glass of whiskey in the kitchen. When she lingered out of sight long enough to cause Booth to get uneasy, he sat down his glass and went after her. Leaning with her back against the refrigerator, she watched him approach with hurt written all over her features.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he told her gently.

"No, you're not. And… you're right. There's nothing I can do except stay out of the way. But Booth, you could find them and stop them from doing something awful. I'm pretty sure my Dad has committed murder, but Russ hasn't. If they go through with this and kill Carson, it will change him, and I couldn't bear that."

The tinny sound of Tchaikovsky's ring tone came from the foyer where Brennan had dropped her cell phone. Handing her drink to Booth, she brushed past him and ran to answer it.

"Hello? Russ? Russ!" Booth came up behind her and watched her warily. She waited for a moment, and then pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the screen. Fear washed over her when she saw the connection had ended.

"Oh no!" She squeezed the phone with both hands and held it to her heart.

"What? What did he say?" Booth was in her face, demanding. Brennan took a shaky breath.

"He told me to stay near you, and that he and Dad know where Carson went and are going after him, and then he hung up. He sounded out of breath or something. Booth, something bad is going to happen; I just know it." Her voice shook with fear. Booth barely recognized this side of Brennan. It seemed that in this rare instance, Booth would have to be the logical one.

"Okay, let's stay calm and think this through. Max and Russ said they were planning to follow Carson on his way out of town. They were going to get him alone somewhere and have a talk. But he slipped out of town before they could get a bead on him."

"A talk? That's Dad-speak for "execution"," Brennan said bitterly.

"Hey. We don't know that for sure. So, think this through with me. First, how can we find out where they went?"

"Someone must know where he went. Is he married? Does he live with anyone? Maybe Caroline can help us."

"Good, Bones, Caroline is a good idea." Booth dialed his cell.

The grim possibilities that Russ's phone call had ignited were beginning to hit home on Bones. When she pulled away from Booth, too agitated to stand still, he jumped to his feet, caught up to her and pulled her securely against his side with one arm while waiting for his call to go through. He was giving her the permission she needed to lean on him for a little while. With a choking noise she clung to him. She wrapped both arms around his chest, her face buried in the soft cotton of his shirt collar.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered in her ear, his hand curved around the back of her head.

"Put me through to Caroline Julian," he commanded the person who answered his call. As he had expected, the office was still populated with employees. Everyone associated with Caroline worked late hours. In fact, the whole Justice Department never slept. While he was waiting to be connected to Caroline's extension, he rubbed Brennan's back with his free hand.

"One step at a time, okay Bones?"

She nodded without looking up. She remained where she was, silently huddled in the safe, warm juncture between his shoulder and neck.

To be continued…