Gemstones are the hardest things on earth, but they still break. They can take constant stress and
pressure, but a sudden, sharp impact can shatter them in to dust.
~Chuck Palahniuk (Lullaby)
Chapter Twenty: Paint It Black
Three long hours later, after Cam and Hodgins had returned from the lab and everyone had eaten a half-hearted early dinner, Sweets gathered the group around the dining room and gestured to the books stacked neatly on the table, now out of their evidence bags.
"As Dr. Brennan suspected, these are all journals. It appears, from the dates, that Tucker started writing the day he met Charlie, and continued, never skipping a day as far as we can tell, until the last entry, September 4, 2014."
"The day before Clay was abducted…" Charlie breathed. "Jesus."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure He doesn't have anything to do with this." Booth stopped and shook his head, refusing to look at Brennan and the glare he could feel coming from her at his brusque comment. "Sorry."
Charlie smiled slightly, she'd seen the look Brennan had given Booth and was, for some reason, highly amused at how quickly and quietly the other woman had reigned him in. "It's fine, Seeley. We're all on edge."
"Still…" Booth did look contrite as he half-smiled at Charlie, and then turned to look at his wife, whose expression was unreadable. "Okay, we need to decide who is reading what. There might be clues as to where he's keeping Clay, so we should start reading from last to first, right?"
Sweets decided that it was now or never, and plunged in. "Actually, Booth…I think that Hodgins, Angela Cam and myself can handle reading the journals. There are only four, and it's not like we can share…"
"Why you four? I think I can still remember how to read indicators in a suspect's actions and words, Sweets. I haven't been riding a desk that long yet." Booth rolled his eyes slightly.
Brennan placed a hand on Booth's arm and pulled him slightly back from the table. "Booth, I think what Sweets is trying to say, delicately, is that since you and Charlotte are personally mentioned in the journals, it might be…difficult to separate your personal feelings from those you might infer as belonging to Tucker."
Sweets smirked. "Leave your 'I Hate Psychology' t-shirt at home, Dr. Brennan?"
"I know of at least sixteen different undetectable poisons that can kill you, Dr. Sweets. Some quite painfully. I suggest you let me help you and leave the commentary for another time." Brennan ignored Booth's snort of laughter and Sweets small grin as she turned to Charlie. "I really think it's best they handle this, don't you?"
Not quite knowing what to say, Charlie nodded. "Yes. I have some things to take care of, anyway. I'll let you all get started." She turned and walked out without a backward glance.
"Now, Bones…"
"It's enough, Booth. Go…work on the case with Gus. I'll go and find something to do myself, maybe call the children in a bit. Let the team handle this, Booth. They know what they're doing." The look she gave him brooked no argument, and he shook his head in amazement at how whipped he suddenly felt, and followed Charlotte from the room.
"Wow, Dr. B…you should have been in the military. You give orders like a drill instructor." Hodgins was suitably impressed, and Angela just chuckled.
"Oh, I don't think Bren has ever had any trouble handling that particular soldier." She smiled.
Sweets moved to sit at the table, glancing at Brennan. "You realize you're mentioned in the journals?"
"I suspected as much." They regarded her closely for a moment, all thinking distinctly different things about the woman in front of them. "In any case, I'll be in the kitchen, if anyone needs me." And with that, she turned and walked out.
Sweets moved to distribute the journals, along with a notebook and pens. "If you find any significant dates, something that seems off to you, make a note of it. If it gets too much, take a break. But we need to get through these as soon as possible."
They all nodded in agreement and almost as one bent their heads to begin reading the ramblings of Tucker's unhinged mind.
B&B
Booth stood in the threshold of Charlie's bedroom a few hours later. She had folders scattered around the bed and seemed to be concentrating on their contents in front of her, a good sign that she was keeping her cool. He knocked on the door jam and cleared his throat, "Hey, I just wanted to let you know that…" He paused as he realized there was nothing of substance to tell her. "They're still working down there and I'm…" He sighed in defeat.
She looked up and smiled faintly, "You're doing everything you can, I know. Thanks for making sure I knew."
Booth watched as she dropped her head back down and began writing again. As he turned to leave, she asked in a small voice, "Is it as bad as it sounds?"
He sighed, "Yeah…I only read the one but…yeah."
"Will I ever get to read them?"
Booth tilted his head. "Charlie, you don't need to. Trust me…You wouldn't gain anything by reading them. Even Sweets said so."
Charlotte ran her hands through her hair and tossed the papers she'd been reading to the side, "I can handle it and as a matter of fact, I think that it'll be worse if I don't read them."
He sat down on the edge of the bed, "Let's just wait until they're done, ok? And then we'll see."
"Don't pacify me, I'm a big girl."
Anxious to change the subject Booth took note of the folders on the bed, "This all for Lou?"
She nodded, "Dorothy died last year and I'm all he had, of course he was all I had for a long time too …," she shook off her tears and inhaled, "For a simple guy, Lou had very specific instructions – all dependent on the age he died. An editor to the end, he always had to have the last word."
"When did you get all this stuff? You haven't left the house since-"
Charlotte cut him off, "Since he was killed and my husband was abducted by a man who had been following me for four years but I was too caught up in my own fabulousness to notice? Yeah, I know."
"Don't do this."
"What? Be honest?" She leaned her head back and sighed, "Seeley, I know that this isn't my fault but I have to wonder what I could have changed about these last few years and had all of this not happen."
"Make you feel better?" He asked, thinking that was the rational starting point of the entire ordeal. Charlie shook her head and reached under her pillow and handed him a yellow legal pad.
As Booth read over the list, she explained, "I made this last night when I couldn't sleep and realized that the one thing that I could have done differently and wouldn't have had any negative ramifications on anyone else was not coming to see you when I got back."
"How do you figure?" Booth didn't share the fact that he had been indulging in similar thoughts earlier that same day.
"We never planned for anything past the length of my assignment. Hell, we never planned for anything except which night we'd see each other again. There was no closure, no resolution needed for either of us. When I got on the plane from there to here, I never thought I'd see you again. Not in a bad way. Not because I didn't want to but…it was…you know, don't you?"
Booth nodded, "Yeah, I do but ….this little project doesn't help me find your husband. All you're doing is adding to your guilt."
She shot him a sarcastic smirk, "I am Catholic now so..."
"Not funny." He stood and threw her list on the bed, "And you're wrong by the way."
"About what?"
"About the one change you could make not having the negative ramifications to other people."
She glanced at the list again and then back to him, shaking her head, "No, that's the only one. Those detours didn't affect a lot. "
He looked at her dumbfounded, surprised that she hadn't concluded what he had. "Those 'detours' affected everything, Charlie. They changed everything in the best possible way. Think about it, me and Bones? Clay? We are all better for those detours."
"Ok sure, if I hadn't spent that time with you, here in DC, there's a chance I never would have met Clay or that when I did meet him I wouldn't have been ready for him but I still would have been fine because I would never know what I was missing out on. Ignorant of what I lost," She paused as though she was making an inventory of what she would have missed before she looked up at him with glassy eyes, "I would have been fine."
"But I wouldn't have been." Seeing her confusion, he moved toward her and sat down, "Ok, look…Bones and I had been partners and friends for five years before I went to Afghanistan. Five years."
Charlotte was still confused, "I know. What does this have to do with me? I'd guess some kind of jealousy but that doesn't seem to be her style."
"At least not on the outside but it wasn't that…" Booth rubbed his hands together, thinking of how to explain something that he, himself, wasn't entirely certain of. "I think, or actually I know, that before she and I took that time apart we always said that we were honest with each other, no secrets, you know?"
She nodded, "But you weren't?"
"No, we were for the most part. But we left things unsaid and hid things away so we didn't burden the other but then..." He glanced at her sideways and gave her a chagrined smile, "you and I ended."
Charlotte shook her head, "Seel, any other time I would be riveted with this tale but…"
"I didn't tell her right away and then when I did, we had the biggest, nastiest fight we had ever had or have had since. It knocked us all the way back to zero – which sounds bad but isn't at all."
Contradicting her last statement, she asked, "What was the fight about?"
Booth shrugged, "That's not important. But having that fight gave us the chance to start over the right way. I don't know how else we could have gotten that chance, we needed that chance. So, if you hadn't looked me up that day when you got back or kept coming back…I wouldn't..." He sighed, thinking of all the ways his life could have played out and knowing that the one he had was the only one that was right, the one that was perfect for him. "I never would have been fine because I would have known what I was missing. I never would have been complete."
B&B
When Brennan stepped out into the cooling night, Vonnegut hot on her heels and raring to run, she took a moment to breathe in the fresh, clean night air and finally relax. She watched, amused, as the dog sniffed his way along the perimeter of the large, heavily guarded fence surrounding the Woods' back yard and idly wondered if Alexandra would like a puppy.
Brennan was suddenly hit with a painful wave of homesickness. She was happy to be able to help Charlotte, and she desperately wanted to find Clayton Woods alive and well, but she missed her baby. She and Booth had just come back from their second honeymoon in Ireland when this case was dropped in their laps, and she was regretting their decision not to bring Alexandra with them on their trip. There were very few things that Temperance Brennan was unsure of professionally, and personally she knew that her husband loved her and that they had a happy marriage, but being a mother sometimes threw her for a loop. When Alex was first born, Brennan had been overloaded with hormones and instant maternal adoration and hadn't had time to wonder if she was doing everything right. Besides, she'd had Booth there with her first three weeks to help her get the hang of things, and he was a good father with endless patience. But once Booth went back to work, she'd had to take care of everything on her own, and while her daughter seemed to be happy and well-adjusted, Brennan still worried at times that she was going to do something wrong and it tended to make her overly cautious. At which point Booth would somehow know exactly what she was feeling, pull her into his arms, and reassure her that she was a good mother, and that she was doing an amazing job. His complete faith in her abilities was always enough to calm her and she was thankful every day that she had him to share her life with.
Brennan found herself walking along the edge of the fencing, keeping one eye on the dog while looking at the flower beds expertly laid out in the garden area. She was contemplating the idea of planting some similar flowers in their backyard when she noticed that Vonnegut was digging at something on the far corner of the fencing.
Turning to take a step towards the dog and call him off, she felt the air behind her stir, but before she could react something warm and wet slapped her in back and her entire body felt like it was on fire. The last thing she remembered was falling to the ground, unable to call for help, with the sound of Vonnegut's barking echoing through her head.
B&B
Sweets, Cam, Hodgins and Angela continued reading the journals to themselves, occasionally reading a particularly disturbing or important entry aloud to the rest of the group. While none of them were really comfortable reading about the private lives of people they cared about, loved and considered family, they knew it was desperately important to the investigation and admirably plowed through.
"You guys…you have to hear this one." Angela announced. "This is just…I don't know." She waited until everyone was paying attention, and then began reading.
November 28, 2011, Washington, DC
She walks roughly twenty feet ahead of me, completely unaware that I'm near her which was always the plan. No matter how badly I want to call out to her, I never do. Now isn't the time.
The time will come…..Since we came home, she's made several missteps which I feel I've been very understanding about and I'm now allowing her time to get back on her path.
She stops suddenly, looking in her bag for something, and when her head turns slightly, I think she's seen me but her phone is ringing and that's all she is focused on, her lack of focus has and may always be our biggest hurdle. But then, her hand finds the phone in her bag and there is no indication she saw me. The tightness in my chest relaxes and I move a little further back. Better safe than sorry.
Talking in a manner that I've come to recognize as the one she reserves for her current distraction, she begins walking again and I am dumbstruck by the possibility that Arcilla's sleek sabotage is ending it all.
"Good lord." Cam muttered. "And I thought I was getting the worst of them."
"So did I." Hodgins agreed. "That's just so…he is seriously several bricks short of a load. Check this one out…its uber creepy…"
August 28, 2014 10:30PM: Washington, DC
It saddens me to report that, I was unable to perform my duties today but I feel that circumstances (created by her) required me to alter the game plan. By abandoning who she is, she forced me to make provisions for the next time, which will be the last time, she ever disappoints me.
Angela shuddered. "This guy is really starting to scare me more and more. Completely off the rails, out-of-this-world nutso."
Sweets shook his head, outwardly irritated by the casual way they all spoke of someone with an obvious mental illness, but inwardly agreeing with them. Especially when he got to the next journal entry, which, for some reason he couldn't explain, made his blood run cold.
December 27, 2010 Side Street off of McGill Ave, Washington, DC
She's been gone for 8 days. Monitoring Cabina during this time has been less than exciting - he works, he sleeps, he eats. For a so-called Special Agent, his daily routine is anything but…..Actually, the only thing in his life (other than the obvious) that even approaches the realm of special, is his relationship with his partner. The partner with the intense eyes. The one who, like me, knows the way it should be.
The partner is very good at keeping him busy when he's sleeping alone – an approach I didn't consider but I have seen the benefits of this week. For example, tonight they ate dinner at a local restaurant, one they go to quite frequently, and afterwards they sat drinking and talking until it became very late
The partner stumbled slightly as they walked to the car causing him to reach out for her – making Cabina think he was there for her – an inspired touch to her routine. He drove her to her apartment and followed her up as he always does – I can't believe that she's conditioned him this well…Then after an hour or so, the lights went out and he never came back down.
I seriously doubt that Cabina got anywhere with his partner last night because unlike some, she knows that this is not about instant gratification. I bet the prick doesn't even realize how deep his partner is rooted into his psyche. I mean, no man spends the night with a woman like that and sleeps on the couch unless he thinks it was his idea.
Sweets stood up and held the book away from him, almost as though he didn't want to hold it in his bare hand any longer. He looked from team member to team member, and suddenly, like a punch to the gut, he knew why this particular entry had disturbed him so.
"Uh…has anyone seen Dr. Brennan?"
B&B
Gus and Booth were sitting in the den, going over notes and evidence, when Hodgins' voice, desperate and panicked, pierced the relative quiet of the house.
"Booth! Booth, come here quick!"
As soon as Booth heard Hodgins yelling, he was on his feet and heading towards the noise faster than Gus had ever seen anyone Booth's size move. Once he caught up with him, they found themselves standing by the sliding doors overlooking the back deck, staring back twin looks of fear from Sweets and Hodgins.
"Hodgins, what the hell?" Booth shoved his friend out of the way and stepped onto the deck. "What's your dog doing out here, Sweets?"
Vonnegut moved towards the agent, stopping next to his leg and nuzzling his hand. Still confused and getting frustrated, Booth turned once more on the gathering by the door and asked again. "What is going on? Someone had better tell me right now!"
Sweets stepped forward. "Uh…Dr. Brennan took Vonnegut out earlier…"
"And then Sweets found a particularly disturbing entry about Brennan, which is when we realized we hadn't seen her in awhile. We came back here and found the dog just standing at the door, leash hanging…and no Brennan." Hodgins wanted to duck as Booth flinched at his words.
"Bones!" Booth bellowed, whirling around and running into the yard. "Bones!" He walked the perimeter of the yard, and then turned to walk it again. "Gus! Get a goddamned flashlight, some of those useless son of a bitches you've got working for you, and get out here! Now!"
Booth's hysterical orders were enough to get everyone moving. Gus moved to grab some lights, Hodgins headed in to alert Angela and Penelope of what was going on, and Sweets went to find Charlie and Cam. Soon enough, the entire back yard was covered in squints and agents, all moving slowly around the grass, searching for evidence of what could have happened to Brennan.
"Booth!" Hodgins yelled from one end of the fence. "Quick, look at this!"
Booth was next to Hodgins before he'd even finished speaking. Leaning over, he saw where Jack was pointing. The fence was made up of long planks, each held to the next with decorative molding running along about six inches from the top and the bottom. The section that had drawn Hodgins' attention looked as though it was disconnected from the rest of the fence, and Booth could see where someone had cut the molding to make the slats move enough to open.
"This is where he got in, and where he-" Booth swallowed, breathing in and out for a moment before continuing. "Where he pulled her out. He sawed through the molding from the outside. And not recently, either. No sawdust."
"Jesus f*ckng Christ." Gus turned on the agent closest to him and grabbed his arm. "Who the hell was walking the perimeter behind the fence?"
"Uh…Adams and Bolinger. But they came on about 15 minutes before Director Booth started yelling, and Adams said there was no way anyone got by them. He passed this area at least six times in that timeframe."
Booth ran a hand over his face and nodded. "So she's been gone at least half an hour. He watched the agent changes and knew exactly when and where they would be, and waited for the right opportunity. When Bones was out here alone." He closed his eyes for a moment, and then walked away, heading for the house.
Gus spoke quietly with Hodgins and Cam, letting them organize a few of his agents who were schooled in evidence collection, then ordered search lights be brought into the yard so that everyone could get to work. Then he started to head for the house, almost walking right past Charlie, who was watching the scene unfold from the deck.
"Bren's gone?" She asked Gus quietly. At Gus's solemn nod, she closed her eyes. "It was Tucker."
"You know we can't say that for sure, Charlie."
"It was. You know it was." He noticed that she was shaking. "You've got to find her, Gus. If you don't…"
He moved to pull her into an embrace, eyes widening when she backed away, hands out. "No, please. I can't…this…this is…if Seeley loses her, if that little girl…oh, God." She shook her head, trying to ward off the tears as she ran past Gus and into the house.
B&B
For all of Angela's insistence that she wanted to help, she wasn't trained in evidence collection, so she volunteered to go back into the house to put coffee on and get some food together. As she passed Charlotte, who was standing by the doors watching the chaos, she slid an arm around her and pulled her towards the kitchen.
"Come on, Charlie. Let's go get something to drink. You can keep me company while I make some sandwiches." Angela gently nudged the other woman, who stopped and stared at her.
"How can you be nice to me? Your best friend is missing, kidnapped by someone who has been stalking me, and…this isn't really my fault, I know that. But Gus never should have called your team in, Bren would be home safe and sound with Alex and everything would be-"
"Stop it." Angela frowned, turning Charlie to face her and placing her hands on the panicked woman's shoulders, shaking her a bit. "Just…stop it. You've done nothing wrong, you know that. This is all on Tucker, not you…not Gus, not even Booth…although I know he's going to blame himself for the rest of his life. This is the result of a psycho's twisted mind. There is no way you could have known."
Nodding, Charlie crossed her arms across her chest. "In my head, I can grasp that. But in my heart…Clay would be safe, Bren would be with her family, and I…I'll try. You're right, the last thing everyone needs is me having a meltdown right now."
"That's the spirit. And while I'm scared for her, Bren is incredibly tough. She'll be okay. I have to believe that, you know?" Angela nodded encouragingly, walking with Charlie into the kitchen. "Now come on, help me make some coffee and food for the guys and you can keep me from freaking out, too."
"Thanks, Angela."
Angela handed Charlie a loaf of bread and a knife. "You're welcome."
B&B
Two hours later, all the samples had been taken and the yard had been thoroughly combed for evidence. Except for a slight divot in the grass next to a flower bed, there was almost no physical evidence that marked where Brennan had been when she was grabbed. Cam and Hodgins once again headed out to the Jeffersonian to get to work, this time taking two other agents with them as escorts so that Gus could stay at the house and help Booth process this new turn of events.
When Gus entered what they were now calling the war room, once the den, the first thing he noticed was that Booth was standing in front of the white board, staring at the picture of Clay taped there, unmoving. Gus wasn't sure he could remember ever having seen someone stand so very, very still. It was almost as if he was suspended in time, not even his breathing was detectible. For some reason, it gave him a chill.
"Booth?" He stepped into the room quietly, afraid to break the other man's concentration, but needing to get a feel for what was going through his head.
Without turning his head or moving any other muscles, Booth began to speak. "There's something in this picture I'm missing. Something that is going to give us a clue as to where Clay is being held. And if I can just figure that out, we can find them and she will be okay and this will all be over."
"We will find them, Booth. Both of them."
Slowly, Booth's head turned until he could face Gus. "Oh, I know. I will find her. And Clay. And then, I will find Tucker."
Gus nodded slowly. "I understand."
"Do you? Really?" He waited as the other man nodded again. "Good. Because you need to know that there is absolutely nothing that I will not do for my wife. Nothing." He sighed and looked up for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I've done some things I'm not proud of, Gus. Things that, although I had to do them for my country, or for my job, still haunt me. I still have nightmares about them. But if I find Tucker first? I will snap his neck without a moment's hesitation and never even think about it again."
"I know, Booth."
Booth finally looked Gus in the eye, a strange, almost eerie smile crossing his face slowly. "Yeah. I actually think you do."