Chapter Two: The Morning After
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The alarm's insistent blare shattered the peaceful silence of Booth's bedroom.
"Hey, Bones…shut that thing off, would you?" he muttered. "Broadsky can live another 15 minutes."
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
"Bones?"
She wasn't there.
He grabbed his gun from the nightstand and bolted through the bedroom door, fighting off visions of Brennan splayed on the floor, a small red circle in the middle of her forehead.
"BONES!"
Leveling the gun, he crept carefully around the living room. Dust motes danced in the hazy strips of light that came through the blinds, but all was quiet. He tensed, half-expecting Broadsky to saunter out from the shadows, rifle cocked.
Nothing.
No Broadsky—thank God.
But no Brennan either—no sign, even, that she'd been there. Sheets, blanket, and pillow were stacked on one end of the couch; her shoes and purse were gone.
Had he dreamed it? Holding her as she cried, kissing her, wanting her so, so badly…but not willing to take that step when they were both cloudy with grief and stress…
He picked up the grey sweatshirt, folded neatly atop the bedding on the couch. It smelled like her—clean and fresh, like green grass after it rained, with a slight undercurrent of disinfectant from the lab.
Not a dream, then.
His confusion swiftly gave way to outrage. She'd just walked out of here, fancy free, with no thought of the danger she could be in? After what happened to Vincent? After what they'd talked about last night?
And she hadn't even said goodbye?
Snatching up his phone, he dialed the number with more force than was strictly necessary.
"Dr. Brennan."
"Where the hell are you?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"I'm at the Jeffersonian, of course, in a safe place—don't worry. Cam has the whole lab on lockdown."
"That's not the point, Bones."
She sounded a little annoyed. "Actually, after yesterday, I thought that my safety, and the safety of the whole staff, is exactly the point. Are…are you angry, Booth?"
"No." I'm furious.
Even Brennan could hear the disconnect between his words and his tone; her silence radiated defensiveness. Booth punched the doorjamb in frustration, but tried to speak calmly. "We were supposed to go down there together."
"You were asleep," she said simply. "I didn't want to wake you…I didn't take any risks, Booth—didn't even stop for coffee—just went down, got in my car, and drove straight here."
"And Broadsky could've been trailing you the whole way!" he exploded. "He could've been right outside! Damnit, Bones!"
"You are angry."
"How can I keep you safe if you won't listen to me?" He took a deep breath and forced his voice back to a register approaching normal. "Look—you're there now, you're fine, I guess that's what counts. But you've got to promise me not to go anywhere."
Surprisingly, she acquiesced. "Yes, I understand. Where will you be?"
"I'm going down to headquarters to see if Agent Shaw has turned anything up. I'll check in with you later."
"All right."
He had nearly pressed the "End" button when he heard her again. "Booth?"
"Yeah?"
"Be safe, OK?" There was something in her voice that cut through his anger, a timbre, low and intimate, that he'd never heard before.
And despite what he had to do that day, Agent Booth left with a spring in his step.
TO BE CONTINUED