A Bride for Booth
By LizD
Written May 2010 - July 2010
Chapter 12
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Angela and Brennan sat on the edge of the pool with a quarter of a bottle of tequila between them. They weren't in bathing suits but they had been swimming - er - um - skinny dipping. Hodgins appeared from the house and brought out towels, robes and a plate of food.
"Ladies," he drawled when he got close averting his eyes from his boss if not his gorgeous wife. "Still pretty hot out, but you might want to think about calling it a night - it is after two AM."
"Isn't he sweet?" Angela ran her hand up his leg. "He is just so sweet." Brennan smiled and wished she were drunker, but the Tequila was not having the desired effect. "No Baby," Angela continued. "We are good. The water is nice."
"You do know that you can't mix Tequila and water, right? Unless they are both taken internally."
"We'll be fine, baby." She cooed back at him. "We'll stay in the shallow end."
Jack shook his head. "I'll be out of earshot, but until you are out of the water, I am not out of eyeshot."
Brennan stood up totally unconcerned with her state of undress. It was actually a little more difficult than she had imagined - the standing up part. Maybe the Tequila was working. "I should go." She reached for her clothes which had been tossed on a lounger.
"Sweetie, you aren't going anywhere," Angela told her as she struggled to standing with Hodgins' help. "There are like 197 bedrooms in this place and enough lounges to choke something ... you are staying here." She took the offered robe from her husband. "We have your keys and your car is in the garage which is locked by combination known old to my sweet Jack." She leaned in and kissed him.
"That is unlawful imprisonment." She slipped into her shirt and struggled to pull on her pants over her wet legs.
"That is being a good friend," Hodgins countered and went back up to the house.
"So Sweetie," she started again after Hodgins had left. "I read your journal ... you know your Booth Journal."
"My what?"
"You sent it to me with the book," Angela went on. "It was probably by mistake, but I thought that you subconsciously wanted me to read it."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"I am talking about the journal you wrote while you were in Indonesia. You wrote it to Booth."
"Oh," Brennan was very uncomfortable. She hadn't meant to send it to Angela. She hadn't meant for anyone to read it ... at least not all of it. She looked back toward the house to see Jack on the patio - out of earshot, but with in eyeshot, as he promised. "Did you show it to ...?"
"No, Jack doesn't know anything about it."
"I thought married couples shared everything."
"No." She reached over and took her friend's hand. "Loyalty to friends is still very important. Jack doesn't need to know." Brennan nodded her appreciation. "So did you actually send those entries to Booth."
Brennan really didn't want to talk about it but she knew that Angela meant well and had been waiting to discuss this very subject with her for a long time. "In the beginning, yes. The whole thing started because of the emails I was sending him. And when he told me to stop - or implied that I shouldn't continue to communicate with him, I didn't know what else to do. So I kept writing ... writing to him, but I kept them in a journal rather than an email."
"Do you think he read them? I mean the ones you sent, did he read them?"
"I doubt it. He never commented back as if he had. I didn't really expect him to. He never really understood what it was I was going in search of when I left - not sure I did either."
"His loss." Angela stated. "Have you re-read them ... since you have been back?"
"No, I mean I read them over before I sent them, but no I never went back and read them again."
"You should ... they are the evolution of ... well ... you."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Read them through again, sweetie. And think about where you were in your head when you started and where you wound up when you came home. Your whole philosophy shifted in that year and the process - the evidence - is right there on the page. It is fascinating; it is beautiful. And if Booth didn't see that or take the time to read those - then I have changed my mind. He doesn't deserve you."
"Angela," she warned not wanting her friend to say anything against Booth. "Booth went through something very horrendous over there. I can't even begin to imagine and I have all the details, so please - do not say anything against Booth. I support him now the same way I supported him when we were partners - OK?"
"Ok." Angela understood - she understood that Brennan was not about to stand up and take what was hers. "So Elizabeth is back, huh?" Angela switched topics. "What do you think will happen?"
"I don't know. But I want what is best for him."
"I know you say that and in your head you believe it, but in your heart you have to know that Elizabeth is not who is best for him. You love him, he loves you."
"I had my chance, Ange. I didn't take it." She shrugged. "Then things happened. Events change us as people. I never really appreciated that before, but there are events that happen in our lives which take us off or worse keep us on the path that we thought we wanted - and it is totally out of our control. We may have had a chance before but right now, I don't think so. Right now I think it is best if I take the position in Stanford and Booth and I just go our separate ways."
"Ya know, sweetie, that may be what ultimately happens - but you need to stop making decisions for other people."
"I beg your pardon."
"You are smart, yes. You are genius in fact. And you know your shit like no one else does. But you are not so smart that you can think for other people. Who knows what will happen? You could tell Booth that you love him -."
"I don't."
"Stop lying to yourself, sweetie - or at least stop lying to me. I read your journal - it is there in black and white; from your own head in your own words. You love him. You are in love with him. Not telling him doesn't make it any less true." She waited for Brennan to argue, which she didn't. "You could tell him that and he could say that he has moved on. And you could be left with a broken heart. It could all come down just like that and it would SUCK. But it would suck so much worse if you never told him. Never let him know the truth. Booth is a big boy. And yes I know he went through some really horrible stuff - stuff that made Elizabeth more of a necessity then a choice – like crutches for a broken leg or NyQuil for a cold. But that doesn't mean he should marry her."
"Angela," she scolded.
"Look, Booth is a big boy. He can make decisions for himself. No one should be expected to make a good decision without all the facts. You are fact, sweetie. You need to tell him and let the chips fall where they may." Brennan shook her head; she looked miserable. "I love you, Bren. I love you with all my heart. If you tell him and he walks away it doesn't mean that you are abandoned. You will never be abandoned or alone ever again - ever. I can promise you that." Angela wrapped her arms around her friend and held on tight until Brennan finally returned the embrace.
"I love you too, Ange."
"Give him all the facts, sweetie."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
In the wee hours of the morning Booth lay awake with Elizabeth curled up against him. There was a hot breeze blowing in the window – not quite fall yet and too early for Indian Summer. It was too hot to have her next to him; he preferred sleeping alone anyway. It was wrong to have made love to her when he didn't know what was next for them, but she had been so alluring, reassuring and confident. She certainly didn't act like she wanted to talk, so he did what he had been doing for months - he did what she wanted. It was probably still wrong. He hadn't renewed his proposal. She hadn't asked, but the ring was on her finger anyway. He did love her – after a fashion – and he had planned to make a life with her - sort of. His latest hypothesis that he was not meant for marriage particularly with a civilian was still hanging around the edges of his mind. Was it really true or was it just his way of dealing with one more woman leaving him? But this one came back and it felt like she was planning on staying. So now he had to decide.
As he lay there in the heat and the hot and the humid, his mind was slowing churning over all the events of the past few days, weeks, months and years. There was no cohesiveness to his thoughts, no organization, no one thing for him to glean from all that had happened or to give him an overall understanding. All he knew for sure was that he hadn't meant for any of it to happen the way it did. Worse than that, he didn't know how to move on from where he was or how to get back to that place where he could make a different choice or if he should even try. He was truly at a crossroads. Go back and try to get the life he had or move forward into a life he had chosen. When he asked Sweets that day about rewinding the clock, he had no clear moment in his head - there were so many from which to choose. There was only one thing to do. He started working backward, backward until he got to the one key event that sent him down that spiraling road. It took him a while but he found it. He found that defining event. The event that shaped all events that followed. It was that dream - that damned coma dream which wasn't even real.
Elizabeth stirred and rolled away from him. He took that as a sign that he could get up. He slipped from the bed, crept into the living room and closed the door behind him; closed the door on her and that life – if only to give him time and space to think in peace. He knew he shouldn't be remembering, reliving, re-feeling that dream with Elizabeth next to him. It wasn't the first time he had slipped from their bed because of those memories. Over two years later it still felt real to him. Those people, that life, those feelings – they were as real to him as if they had actually happened. It actually felt more real than what he and Elizabeth had but less than what he had before.
It was that dream that caused him to change his whole way of thinking, feeling and acting. He tried to remember how he felt about Brennan before that tangent into an alternate reality but he couldn't. The dream confused it all. Did he love her before? He must have. Of course he loved her, she was his partner, but it was in so many more ways than trusting someone to have your back. He nearly died for her; he killed for her – as she did for him. They were more than friends, less than lovers yet he was closer to her than he had ever been to anyone ever in his life. He trusted her in ways that he never knew he could trust someone, and he knew - knew with every fiber of his being, with every thought and action that Brennan came first; before himself, before his career, before his desire. That was love, right? He also knew - knew without the words - that she felt the same way about him. Also love, yes? What more was there to ask for? But he did. He did want more. That damned dream made him want it all and as Brennan would say, that was not rational.
When he woke up it was hard to distinguish his dream from his reality. When he was close to her it was hard to think straight. He wanted her in the way men want women; the way he had her in his dream. That was when he should have made a different choice. There were two other options. First, he could have written the dream off as just a dream and moved on, gone back to the way things were. Keep the dream for those lonely nights like a good book or an old movie to re-experience over and over again. Or second, he could have told her he loved her and opened a line of dialog that would have led them to something else. Of course he didn't do either; he wanted to keep the dream alive but did nothing to make it real. She must have felt his ambiguity, his equivocation, his confusion. Brennan was not be the best at picking up interpersonal cues, but she knew him - inside and out. If he were unsure, she knew it. Even the night that they had talked to Sweets about his book, he hedged, he obfuscated, he equivocated. I'm the gambler? I believe in giving this a chance - what the hell was that? That wasn't a declaration of love. It certainly wasn't an open honest declaration of feelings and a desire to change the very nature of their relationship that would have profound implications on their existing relationship. A relationship that kept them alive and working in a profession that was quite literally life and death more often than not. A relationship that had been built over years, built on trust, respect, admiration and love - albeit platonic love. GIVE THIS A CHANCE? BAH! You give new pizza toppings a chance. You give new jeans a chance. You might even give a new hairstyle a chance. You don't chance changing an existing relationship that is good, better than good - the best you have ever known. It could blow up in both your faces. You don't CHANCE that unless you are sure - both sure. If you aren't prepared to go all in - then pick up your chips and go home or you keep hedging your bets trying to stay in the game. You don't blurt it out and the first second there is resistance back off and go the other way. I knew right from the beginning. LIAR! He wasn't THAT GUY. If he were that guy he wouldn't have back off; he wouldn't have said he was going to move on. He wasn't THAT GUY. He was a gambler taking a chance. It is no wonder she said no. That was another moment in time that he wished he could have made a different choice.
The night before she left for Indonesia they had dinner together - their last dinner together. It was sweet, sad and nostalgic. They talked over some old cases and events that they had shared. They laughed at the people they had met and complimented each other for the things that each had brought to the other's life. He should have made a declaration that night, opened a safe line of communication that would carry them through the next 365 days. Of course the night before they were to fly away from each other felt like it was too late, but he should have. He should have told her, asked her to consider it while she was away and promised to remain true to her until they met again. Another missed opportunity.
Instead they built each other up with promises and assurances about coming home, and getting back the life they were abandoning. Of course that only served to make the separating easier - but the actual separation impossible. Each knew that those were promises that neither one could honestly make. Booth came up with the plan for the re-meeting at the coffee cart by the reflecting pool exactly one year later - very romantic if a little unrealistic. They would be in contact - phone, email whatever. They may not see each other every day, they may not have been working together, but it was unreasonable to think that all communication would be cut off - it was 2010/2011 after all. Brennan was better with the email than he was; she was a writer. She wrote about her work and what she was discovering; impressions of people and relationships. It was all pretty dry. Booth was looking for something else from her; something other than the scientist. She wrote every day and they were often very long. At first he didn't know how to respond - frankly some of it was just out of his grasp, and of course he couldn't tell her anything about what he was doing. Eventually he just stopped reading them, it was enough to see her name in his in box. He responded sporadically with news of his own - as much as he could tell, which wasn't much. She still wrote every day, twice a day if he had written to her - she would comment back on his email.
Then the incident happened. He woke up again in a hospital bed with her watching over him. That time he knew he hadn't woken up from a dream. He knew it was reality. He knew what he had done and the cost to those around him. He had seen her face before he gave the order. He had hesitated. Nothing would have changed the outcome other than many more people, including himself would have died, but still six boys died and he may never be the man he was. She was immovable, as immovable as she always had been. When she looked at him, he saw pity. He couldn't have her near him. He couldn't let her be close. He sent her away. He was rude and mean and he sent her away. When she left he made up his mind to change everything about his life - there was no going back. When he was able to walk again he was determined to do just that. Enter Elizabeth. He used her to push thoughts of the incident, Brennan and everything about his old life away. It was easy to do; she was so different from the good doctor. She didn't make him feel stupid or like what he wanted in life was wrong. The best thing about Elizabeth was that she never pushed. She never pushed him for anything. She let him be who he needed to be and who he needed to be was someone else. Someone he was not. Elizabeth of course did not know that - she hadn't known Booth before. Being back in Washington, being back at the FBI, in sessions with Sweets and working with the Squint Squad was making it hard to keep up that Other Person persona. Soon his old self, his real self, would collide with who he had decided to be. That morning, in the dark and the heat, Booth knew that his old self would win. Was it fair to Elizabeth to keep her tied to a man she did not know? Was it reasonable to think that the Old Booth would love Elizabeth? Should he let her see the real Booth, and let her decide? Should he end it cleanly? So many bad choices. Where did he start to make amends?
Elizabeth squatted down next to him and took his hand. He hadn't heard her get up or come into the room. He looked down into her face and pushed some hair back behind her ears. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Brennan arrived at work ahead of everyone else. She hadn't slept well and caught a cab back to the Jeffersonian. Luckily she had a change of clothes in her office. The one thing stuck in her mind from the early morning with Angela was the journal. She hadn't reread it, but maybe it was time she did. She found it on her hard drive and printed out all 700+ pages. The dates ranged from May 20, 2010 (about six hours into her fight) through September 16, 2011 (the day before). They weren't daily entries, but they were regular and often two to three pages in length. She checked back through her emails as she was waiting for the print to finish, she had sent the journal - accidentally or otherwise - to Angela in August before Booth's big revelation to her. She hadn't written about what he had told her about the incident - about hesitating, about seeing her face and hearing her voice. She flipped to those pages first. No one who wasn't aware of the particulars of her conversation with Booth would have any idea what she was commenting on. Even in a private journal which she never expected anyone else to read, she was protecting Booth.
She flipped back to the entry after Booth had called and informed her that he was going to ask Elizabeth to marry him, after the night she mistakenly allowed herself to be comforted by Geoffrey Winthrop Pearce. The entry was short. It spoke of regret and the inability to change the past. She wondered about personal happiness couching it terms of the remains they were studying. Why would they leave their societies? What had attracted them? Were they already outcasts and just found each other and stayed together out of necessity? Or were they two souls who were compelled to be together in spite of their differences, who chose to be together leaving everything that they knew behind. Ultimately it didn't matter. By choice, lack of options or pure happenstance, they found each other and a safe location to raise their young and stay together until death. She dubbed the parents: Romeo and Juliet. Her final conclusion was that these two - Romeo and Juliet - we rare. Most primates would choose to stay with their own species, their own communities, their own societal norms. If they had, they would have lived longer and produced viable offspring. That's all that Booth was doing. He was choosing to stay with his own kind. She could not fault him for that.
"Tempe," Cam called from the doorway. "Please tell me you didn't work all night again."
"No," she said easily. "In fact Angela and I drank tequila into the wee hours of the morning and I am still experiencing the effects."
"Let's not say that too loudly. Don't want to encourage people coming to work hung-over."
"I do have a headache, but I am fine to work, Cam," she assured her. "But I will keep that to myself."
"Good, will you join me on the platform? We made a few discoveries of our own last night."
"Absolutely." Brennan stood up a little too quickly and lost her balance. "Maybe I am not as fine as I thought."
"More water and a greasy breakfast and you will be right as rain."
"I don't know what that means."
"No one knows what that means."
"Yet, apparently people say it."
"Apparently."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Booth wandered into the lab with his own issues. No sleep and a long conversation with Elizabeth that morning put him off his game. Decisions were made and he had no idea if they were the right ones or not. Booth skirted the platform opting to go directly to Brennan's office. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her - they were still in the middle of the case, but he somehow felt that he should tell her about Elizabeth. Maybe she wouldn't care. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe they could just go back to being Booth and Brennan - crime fighters and forget the past year - at least forget what happened between them over the past two years.
Brennan wasn't in her office - she was clearly at work, but not at her desk. He decided to wait and slumped down into her chair. Her book - probably her latest - was open on her desk. He tried to avert his eyes - he wasn't a spoiler hound, he like to read her books from beginning to end before the reviews came out. Something caught his eye. The first word on the top left was his name followed by the date 'February 27, 2011.' The date itself didn't mean anything to him but late February was about the time he had asked Elizabeth to marry him. He read the lines underneath. They seemed like they were about her work in Indonesia. Why would they be addressed to him? He flipped forward. They were all addressed to him. He flipped them back over to the first page. He recognized it immediately. It was the first email she had sent him after they had parted. It was from the plane. It was full of her expectations for what she would find and her regret for what she had to give up for the project. He must have read that first email a dozen times. It wasn't what he had expected. Somehow he thought it would be more personal, more pointed, more directed at him. He read her closing line again with a different expectation. "I don't know what the next days, weeks, or months will bring, but it is my dearest wish that when we do see each other again, will be able to share our experiences and they will bring us closer."
He flipped forward to the day of the incident and the days following. They were full of the pain and suffering that the remains she was studying had experienced. He had never gotten that email. There were several more he didn't get. Then he found the ones she had sent while he was recovering. He hadn't read any of those so he was never sure if he got them or didn't. But they went on. The last entry was the day before. She had continued her journal to him regardless. She was still writing to him every day.
"Pretty impressive, isn't it?" Angela said standing next to him. He had no idea that he had been walked in on. "You didn't read these," she stated. He shook his head. "Well that was a big mistake."
"I don't understand. What is this?"
"That, my good man, is the longest love letter in the history of woman-kind. I know you aren't good at reading between the lines on a page and are better at reading people. But if you read any of that, you would see it clear as day."
"I didn't … I mean … It was her Anthropology Journal."
"Was it?" Angela shook her head. "You know Booth, I have always admired you, respected you, liked you even. I was probably the only one who believed that in spite of everything you two did to stay apart but together that you two were meant to be and would figure it out one day. When you each went your separate ways I bet money that you would be the one who stayed true. That you would be the one to allow Brennan to fully realize how much love she had to give and how OK it was to take. That you would be the one and only man that she could trust not to break her heart."
"I didn't know," he defended weakly.
"Yeah, well ... there is nothing I can say to that. Brennan is better for writing that even if they weren't read." She looked sincerely disappointed in him. "Anyway, they need you on the platform. Something about cause of death for the guy in the trunk."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
What followed was hours worth of work on the case where Booth and Brennan did not have a moment to speak in private. The good news was the NCIS squints were not there. They had evidence that Edwards killed his roommate, but that had no bearing on the SUV running into the bus. Brennan discovered evidence that determined that Charlotte Barr had not shot herself; rather it was someone who was very close to her – probably Barr. Angela discovered that Barr was indeed diagnosed six months before, but apparently chose not to be treated. She surmised that the marriage to Charlotte was so that she could get his life insurance and death benefits. Something must have happened to cause Barr to snap so close to the end, kill his 'wife' and try to kill her husband. Maybe he found out that they were never divorced or that they were still involved. Maybe Edwards was supposed to be on that bus. Maybe it was nothing more than just a lovers' triangle. The fourth body on the bus had been identified as Edwards' accomplice - the co-defendant. He knew Barr as well. It was naive to think that that case had no bearing on the accident. They had yet to find out what Barr was being investigated for. Booth did discover that he was not on the Terrorist watch list - so it was something else. It was time to bring all the evidence to Edwards and see what they could squeeze out of him.
Booth was called back to the Hoover Building as NCIS was trying to move Edwards to their offices. Booth blocked that and would have to convince Gibbs to use their interrogation room. Brennan was to stay at the lab until all evidence was logged and confirmed. She would meet him at the Hoover building in time for the interrogation.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Brennan stepped off the elevator; Booth was waiting none too patiently. "What took you so long? Gibbs has been in with him for twenty minutes," he scolded as they made their way to the interrogation room.
"I was getting the evidence we need."
"Great, great ... feed it to me when I am in there, OK?" Booth was about to step into the interrogation room nodded for Bones to go into the observation room.
"Booth," Brennan called to him. "Booth there is something ... something I need to tell you ..."
"Can it wait, Bones?" he asked turning back. He was more than a little anxious. This would be the first suspect he had interrogated since he had been back. NCIS was watching, his bosses were watching. This would be a test.
"No," she said keeping her voice low. "No, it can't."
Booth turned back to look at her. "Something I need to know about Edwards?"
"No," she said again. "I need to tell you ... you need to know," she stammered.
"What?"
"I love you," she said evenly. She thought for a moment if there were something she needed to add, but nothing came to mind. That was all she needed to say. "That's all." She started walking passed him but he grabbed her arm and turned her back toward him.
"What did you just say?"
"I said that I loved you ... I love you," she repeated correcting the tense. "I thought you should know."
"We are about to interrogate a witness -"
"Suspect," she corrected.
"Suspect for the homicide of eight people and you chose this time - right now," he looked around and pulled her off to the side. "You chose now to tell me that you love me?"
"Yes," she said as if it were an absurd question.
He pulled her into the empty conference room and closed the door. "Was that supposed to be encouraging ... to help me successfully interrogate the suspect - you know like 'go get 'em tiger' cause if it is, Bones you need to work on your -"
"No, I genuinely love you ... Angela would say that I am in love with you, but I am not sure I understand the distinction."
"Bones!" he exclaimed, frustrated and confused.
"I thought it was a piece of information that you should have," she protested.
"Now?"
"Elizabeth is back in town and I assumed that you two would be discussing a future and I believed that in order for you to make an informed decision you needed to know my feelings. They may have no bearing, but as I too am considering a relocation and change of job which is directly impacted by your reaction. I thought you should know - so I told you."
"Why now?"
"The case is almost over. I expect that this interrogation will net a confession and we will be free to make decisions."
"Just so you know - this kind of information is a bit of a bombshell. It really shouldn't be dropped in the middle of a hallway in the middle of a case ... for future reference. This kind of information should probably be held for a more appropriate setting."
"I understand," she said evenly. "In my defense, this was the first opportunity that we had since I made the decision to tell you and given the circumstances I was unsure if there would be an appropriate setting in the near future." Booth was totally blown away. "We should go."
Booth just shook his head. She was so unlike anyone he had ever known. "Right, yeah ... the suspect ... great ... not distracted now," he said sarcastically. He opened the door and allowed her to exit in front of him. "Thanks for the intel, eh Bones."
"You're welcome," she said. "Go get 'em, tiger," she added before entering the observation room. Booth just had to smile. There was nothing else to do.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Much to Booth's surprise, he was completely focused in the interrogation. Brennan fed him information like a pro, picked up on cues from Edwards and provided evidence a moment before it was needed. She was terse, to the point and right on target. They were perfectly in sync. Gibbs - who never used the ear piece - was impressed with Booth and when he found out about Brennan in his ear, he was more impressed. He had never had a partner that he was so connected with.
As it turned out, Charlotte and Edwards were to run away together, that was why the SUV had been filled with camping gear. They were 'going off the grid'. She had gone to meet the bus. Apparently Barr found out. Killed her and drove the SUV into the bus hoping to kill Edwards. Edwards had been unable to meet her and sent his friend (the co-defendant) to meet Charlotte and tell her that he would hook up with her later. He was late because his roommate had found out that Edwards had broken into his bank accounts and siphoned off all his money – some $160,000 – a nest egg for the Edwards new life. He of course pointed out that Barr had been suicidal since they met. He still knew nothing about the cancer – neither did Gibbs.
What Gibbs knew that the FBI didn't was that Barr had been under investigation for his own crimes against the Navy that included Edwards, the co-defendant and the roommate. Since Barr's death was going to be ruled a suicide, Charlotte's and the people on the bus were murdered by a dead man, Gibbs didn't feel the need to share, but other charges would be laid against Edwards in a military court after the Federal Court got through with him for the murder of his roommate.
The interrogation was over. Booth went to find Brennan, but she was gone. She apparently left right after the confession before all the details were revealed. The agent that was with her in observation said that she had gotten a phone call and left.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Lister," Kathy called to him. "ANDY!"
He groaned. "Where are we?"
"Salt has us."
"Where? Where is he?"
"I don't know? He has been gone for about twenty minutes. Can you move?"
Another groan. "No ... restrained ... is that blood?" Lister noticed that Kathy had an IV of blood and something else hooked to her arm.
"Yes," she said. "I don't understand. If he is going to kill us ... why not just let us die."
"Too easy," he told her. "We are probably safe for the moment."
"Don't feel safe," she said, her voice cracking.
"Hey, Hey," he said gently. "I know it looks bad."
"Really bad."
"We will get out of this," Lister told her.
"I don't see how."
"We have gotten out of worse."
"No, no we haven't." She craned her head to look at him. "In case we don't -"
"Don't say anything that you will wish you hadn't when we do," he told her.
"I should have told you this before," she went on.
"Reichs ... Kathy ... we will make it out of this ... OK? Trust me." He pulled at his constraints.
"I am not in love with Dr. Ramanish."
He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, that guy is not good enough for you."
"Are you?" She returned the question a little too quickly.
"Am I?"
"Good enough for me ... in your opinion."
"Are we really going to talk about this now?" He struggled to pull his arm free. "Think we should focus on how we are going to get out of here."
Kathy's eye caught something. "I don't think we are."
"Why do you say that?"
She nodded over to something on the table between them. It was a bomb. The digital clock was counting down: nine minutes forty-seven seconds, nine minutes forty-six, nine minutes forty-five ...
