"There are a lot of things we don't want to know about the people we love."
~ Chuck Palahniuk (Fight Club)

Chapter Fourteen: Some Things Just Stick in Your Mind

Later that evening, Brennan slowly walked up the stairs and found Booth and Gus standing outside Charlotte's bedroom door, having a whispered debate.

"What are you two doing?"

Booth turned to explain, "We need to talk to Charlie about the note that came with the picture but…we don't want to wake her up because she's barely slept at all this week."

Brennan nodded, after her emotional release over receiving the picture of her husband, Charlotte had finally been able to lie down, close her eyes, and allow herself to sleep.

She laid a hand on her husband's arm and squeezed it gently, "Booth, if that was me in there, I would want you to wake me up. I would want to do everything I could to assist in the investigation."

"But she's so tired, babe."

"I know she needs to rest but I also know that right now, the last thing she cares about is herself."

The men watched as she slowly turned the knob, letting herself into Charlotte's bedroom. Before shutting the door she looked at her husband, "You should go see how Sweets is faring with the profile. We'll be down shortly." She shut the door behind her, as the men shrugged at each other.

"You know, we should go see how Sweets' profile is coming." Booth couldn't stop himself from smiling as he turned and moved toward the stairs.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, that's a hell of a woman you married." Gus told Booth as he followed him.

Booth smiled, "Ah, I never mind the truth, Mr. White."

In the living room, they saw Cam and Hodgins looking out the front window. "What are you two doing?" Booth asked.

Cam turned, "We need to go to the lab. I just got a call that the final analysis reports on the Town Car are finished and we're debating over the best way to leave and not have to deal with the insanity out there."

"I don't want you guys going anywhere without protection."

Hodgins smirked, "So, give me your gun."

"Never gonna happen, Jack." Booth grumbled before looking to Gus, "Can you spare a man to escort them?"

Gus glanced at Cam quickly and then back to Booth, "Actually, I could go. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't leave Charlie but you're here so I can assume she's safe."

Booth nodded once, "She is."

"Then that's settled." Cam looked at Gus, "So, how do we escape?"

He grinned, "Follow me."

B&B

Brennan entered the slightly darkened room, softly closing the door behind her. She could clearly see Charlie's silhouette under the heavy comforter, and took a minute to rethink the logic of waking the poor woman. Taking a deep breath and looking up, she noticed something odd on the ceiling, and it not only made her smile, it solidified her decision.

"Charlotte?" Brennan whispered, shaking her shoulder lightly.

Charlie turned and looked at Brennan with heavily lidded eyes. "Bren?" She sat up quickly. "Has something happened?"

"No…no. It's okay. Booth and Gus just need to show you something, they need your input." She lowered herself to the edge of the bed and handed the other woman the glass of water that had been sitting on the nightstand. "Take your time."

"Thanks, Bren." Charlie took a drink and returned the glass to its place.

The two regarded each other quietly, not quite knowing what to say, until Brennan pointed at the area over the bed.

"Is that how Clayton proposed?"

Charlie smiled up at the phrase 'Will you marry me?' written across the ceiling over the bed in green paint. "Yeah. Very romantic, that man of mine." She grinned conspiratorially at Brennan in that way women always did when they discussed the men they loved. "He did that, and then placed the ring on my finger while I was sleeping. We left it there because I wanted it to be the first thing I saw every night before I went to sleep and every morning when I woke."

Brennan nodded. "You're right, that is very romantic. I'm glad you have that."

"If you don't mind me asking, how did Seeley propose? I imagine he would have been just as romantic."

Slightly flushing at the memory, Brennan smiled. "Oh yes. I'd assumed he was a traditional dinner and down-on-one-knee sort of man, but he managed to truly surprise me."

Charlie sat up and leaned forward slightly. "Oh now you have to spill."

Warming to the topic, Brennan grinned. "He wrote me a love letter. Not in and of itself surprising because he often writes me little romantic notes and puts them in odd places, like my desk or my pocketbook…but this was a long letter, retelling our story and ending with his proposal, and he'd slipped it into a copy of Elvis Costello's Punch the Clock CD."

Charlie sighed dramatically. "Was that CD significant?"

"It is. That's the album that contains our song, Everyday I Write The Book."

"I love that song!" She laughed. "What about the ring? Where was it?"

"Inside the CD tray in the stereo, right where he knew I'd find it when I went to play the song."

"Oh…so when you hit 'open'…"

"The tray slid out and there sat the ring."

"Good job, Seeley!" Charlie was delighted. "I am very impressed."

"I have to admit, I was as well. Booth is a very demonstrative man, and I've learned to appreciate that as the years have passed."

"Good for you, Brennan. I'm glad you're both happy."

"Thank you." Brennan stood again, moving towards the door. "Now, we need to get downstairs, Gus and Booth are waiting. But as soon as they are done, you should come back and lay down. It's not good for the baby for you to be so lacking in sleep as you have."

Charlotte stopped from where she was rising. "What?" She whispered.

Brennan blanched. "Oh. I'm sorry; I assumed that since you look to be almost three months along that you knew…"

"I did. I do." Charlie stood and pulled a cardigan over her shoulders. "I…Clay is the only other person who knows. We wanted to…we have so little privacy, you know?" Brennan nodded in sympathy. "This was just ours."

"I understand. And I'm sorry I mentioned it, really." Brennan looked embarrassed.

"Oh, Bren…don't be sorry. Truly. I'm glad you know, I might even have some questions for you, since you've been pregnant before. But please…don't tell anyone else, okay?"

"I promise." Brennan opened the door to the bedroom. "Now, let's go see what we can do to help bring your husband home."

B&B

"You get anything from the messenger?" Booth asked Sweets when he entered the kitchen.

Sweets looked up from the stack of papers in front of him, "No, the guy was stoned out of his mind."

"Yeah, that's what I figured." Booth went to get a cup of coffee but found a growling Vonnegut on the floor directly in front of where the coffee maker was. "Why doesn't your dog like me?"

"I really don't know. Pen says it's because he's a Quaker at heart but…." He shrugged and went back to the papers in front of him.

"Pen is weird in the best possible way." Booth called over his shoulder as he poured himself a couple of coffee, carefully avoiding the animal at his feet.

Sweets grinned but didn't look up, "Don't I know it."

Booth took a seat at the table, "How's the profile coming?"

"It's coming…" Sweets leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, "White male, age 30-45, father and or authority issues, military background – obviously ."

"That's too general, it doesn't help me." Booth took a sip of his coffee. "Actually, that's pretty much the same profile you always give me."

"I'm sorry to say that most commonly that's the psycho demographic."

Booth glared at him, "That's my demographic."

Sweets held his hands up, palms out toward Booth, "I'm not finished. I also believe that he grew up in a very traditional family, you know mom stayed home with the kids while dad worked and when he came home he set both the rules and the mood of the house. And out on a limb I'd say he's Southern."

"How do you get that?"

"There is a sense of chivalry and a desire to be the perfect gentleman and protect her that is still very much a part of Southern culture. It's not exclusive to the South and this is just educated guess but along with this," Sweets held up and evidence bag that held the note that had come with Clay's picture, "I think it's a damn good guess."

Booth nodded and thought about the guys he had served with, "There's at least nine men that I can remember having accents. "

"There's actually 14 that were raised in that region." Sweets handed Booth the files of the 14 men. "I need to take Vonnegut out and then we can go over the new note and files with Charlie."

"Sounds like a plan." Booth muttered as he read through the first file.

B&B

Brennan found Booth sitting at the kitchen table staring at the note that had accompanied the picture that proved Clay was alive. He looked up when he heard her, "She ok?"

"Charlotte is very strong, resilient and focused woman. She's ok." She took a seat in his lap, resting her head in the nook between his shoulder and collarbone, "She'll be down in a few minutes."

He wrapped his arm around her and held her tight, "Are you ok?"

Brennan nodded against him, "I just…" She raised her head to look at him, "What is this, Booth?"

"I don't know. I keep running different scenarios in my head and this doesn't seem to fit any I've dealt with before. Not to be cruel but if this guy is this obsessed with her why-"

She cut him off, "Why is Clayton still alive? I've been asking myself that same question."

"Still symbiotic after all these years." He smiled as he kissed her forehead and then rested his own against it. They sat there together, enjoying the quiet for a few minutes before he mentioned, "I could really use a change of clothes, Bones."

"Oh, didn't I tell you? Angela and Penelope offered to go and collect necessities for everyone. They left about an hour ago with Agent Conlin."

Booth rolled his eyes, "Good call Bones, I really need those two going through my underwear drawer…

B&B

Angela peeked over the top of the Bullwinkle boxers she was holding up for Penelope. "I have to say…I think these might be my favorite."

Penny laughed from her vantage point in the walk-in closet. "If Booth finds out you're inspecting his unmentionables so closely, he's going to have an aneurism."

"Hence, the reason it's so much fun. Booth, for all his cocky attitude and self-assuredness, turns into a pool of jelly when confronted with personal information. It's truly one of his more endearing qualities." Angela giggled as she pulled a pair of black boxers decorated with tiny skeletons out of the depths of the dresser drawer. "Bren had to have bought those for him. Well, those or the clown-decorated pair."

"I thought he hated clowns."

"He does. Which is why it's so perfect." She pulled the pair in question out and waved them around. "See? Still have the tag on them. He's such a big baby."

"I'm thinking I shouldn't be here for this conversation. He's already mad I beat him at chess the other night."

Angela chuckled maniacally. "Well, hellooo Calvin Klein!" She held several pair of boxer briefs triumphantly above her head. "These are the ones we're packing!"

Penelope turned and looked. "Nice. I've always found those so sexy."

Angela nodded enthusiastically. "There is a reason Booth is my official eye candy."

B&B

"Ok, I'm here. What was so important that you needed to wake me?" Charlotte announced to Booth, Brennan and Sweets as she entered the kitchen.

"Good nap?" Sweets asked as he noticed how much better and relaxed she seemed.

"Very good, thanks for asking, Sweetness." It wasn't the nap that had improved her demeanor as much as knowing that her husband was alive and that someone knew her secret - someone she instinctively knew she could trust absolutely.

Booth looked up, "Don't call him that."

"Why not?"

"Just…just don't." He cleared his throat and asked, "When's your birthday?"

Charlotte looked at him quizzically, "This Friday actually, September 12th. Why?"

Booth slid the evidence bag that contained the note to her, "It looks like the proof of life was an early present for you."

Through the clear plastic bag Charlotte slowly read, "Happy Birthday…Ms. Charlotte." She could feel her heart beating faster and faster in her chest as her breathing nearly stopped. She looked up at Booth...terror, realization and something strangely close to relief coloring her face. "Oh God...it can't be. I-It's Tucker. Tucker is my stalker."

B&B

Clayton Woods watched as his abductor paced back and forth across the empty room, holding a book he now knew to be a journal in front of him and ranting deliriously. Despite Clay's best efforts, he was having trouble blocking out the offensive words and errant thoughts that were assaulting his ears.

During the first few days of his imprisonment, Clay had found a certain amount of comfort in the almost-hourly readings. He had been panicked when he first realized that he was being held against his will, terrified that Charlotte had been taken as well. But his captor had assured him, through his missives, that his wife was not the target of choice, simply the catalyst. Charlotte was all Clayton could think about….

"July 20th, 2010, 3:30 AM...She happily opened the door for him and he rushed in, taking her into his arms and tumbling to the bed within seconds…I can see them through the slats in the wall…they think know one knows what they're doing… The things she allows him to do to her are…they're nothing less than degrading…Them together is…it is an abomination! I am disappointed and deeply saddened that she has let him possess her in this manner…. He is leading her down such a dark path when they barely know each other! He doesn't know her….not like I do!"

Desperate to ignore the now-shouted descriptions of Charlie's dalliances with her former boyfriend, Seeley Booth, Clay began to move hands where his arms were tied behind his back. Even though he had been surreptitiously maneuvering his hands back and forth for days, the ropes holding him seem to have gained no slack whatsoever. He may be bat-shit crazy, but the guy can tie a knot.

Tucker stopped speaking abruptly; catching Clay's movements just on the edge of the fury he had managed to work himself into. "What do you think you're doing, Mr. Speaker?"

Clay stopped struggling and simply stared straight ahead, knowing that he had been caught but refusing to acknowledge it. At his core he was a military man and he knew how to play this game. However, the fleeting thought occurred to him that he would love to have his hands free if for nothing else but to be able to scratch his face, the days-old stubble itching and making him crazier than he thought possible. He knew he probably looked as bad as he felt, six or seven day old beard (he was never sure how many days had passed), filthy tuxedo shirt with the sleeves rolled haphazardly towards his elbows, tie slack around his neck…all completely going against the perfect, well-coiffed image he had been so careful to project to the public. He looked a mess, but he was damned sure not going to let the crazy guy with the stun gun and buck knife know that he was close to the same condition on the inside as well.

"Oh, I see. Not talking. Fine." Tucker tilted his head slightly and without warning, threw the journal at Clay. The book bounced almost harmlessly off the side of his head and fell, sliding across the concrete floor to rest under an abandoned, empty standing shelf.

Tucker moved to pick the journal up with a smile. He turned the book over and over in his hands, the look on his face making Clay's skin crawl. "You know…I think it might be time to send that beautiful woman you don't deserve another present." He waved the journal in front of him. "I mean, it's only fair that since you got to hear my firsthand account of her…trysts…with the Sarge, that his equally beautiful wife gets the pleasure of reading them too."

Taking in the look on Clay's face and correctly identifying it as confusion, Tucker grinned. "Oh, you don't know, do you? Assistant Deputy Director Seeley Booth has been running the investigation into your disappearance. He's in your home at this very minute…with your distraught, scared and needful wife. I can't even imagine how much comfort she needs right now…" He reached over and tapped Clay on the top of the head. "I'm sure it's completely innocent…right?"