Author's Note: You guys. You guys. 45 reviews for a prologue? Why did I ever take a break from Bones fiction again?

Seriously, I'm so glad you guys are liking this and intrigued by the premise. I love hearing what you think, and it is the best motivation around, so please do keep that up…I love it. This chapter is our setup/flashback chapter…I usually hate when stories start in the middle or the end and then go back and it takes forever to get to where you started, so we're only doing one chapter. This will bring us right up to date with the prologue. And though there are no real surprises, there's a very important scene between Booth/Brennan.

Also, last night's episode? Heart crushing. Holy hell. If anyone wants to discuss/vent about this, feel free to PM me, because I'm starting to bug people in real life talking about it (Also, if you're on tumblr, you should follow me and talk to me on there...I love all the tumblr Bones people…my tumblr name is 'darkdizzymerrygoround' and I'd put the URL but of course it doesn't work on here)

Chapter One

We Might As Well Be Strangers

I don't know your thoughts these days
We're strangers in an empty space
I don't understand your heart
It's easier to be apart

We might as well be strangers in another town
We might as well be living in a another time

Twenty hours earlier

Booth led the handcuffed man out of the interrogation room and handed him over the police. Sweets and Brennan emerged from the booth.

"Good job," he said in an undertone to Sweets, acknowledging his help in getting the confession.

"Thanks," Sweets' usual pleased smile was absent in spite of the praise. The young psychologist looked as exhausted as Booth and Brennan; it had been a long, draining case, involving three dead teenage girls. Booth was just glad it was over.

"C'mon, Bones, I'll take you back to the lab…and we can let the others know."

Brennan nodded wordlessly and the two of them, nodding goodbye to Sweets, started out of the Hoover.

The car ride back to the Jeffersonian was quiet, but not with the awkward silences that had admittedly become more frequent between over the past five months. They were both merely too exhausted to force conversation.

Once inside the Jeffersonian, they found Hodgins, Angela, Cam and Wendall still working on the platform.

"We got him," Booth told them. Shoulders sagged with relief. "Go home, get some rest." Brennan and Cam both opened their mouths to speak, but he cut them off, anticipating. "The paperwork can wait. We've earned a break."

As everyone gratefully began straightening up their stations, murmuring quietly, Brennan turned to Booth and asked hesitantly, "Do you want to grab some food? The bar?"

Glancing at his watch, Booth shook his head. "I'm supposed to meet Hannah for dinner…I'm almost late, actually."

"Right."

Booth glanced up, and gave Brennan a small smile, an apology on his lips, but she was already moving away. His gaze followed her as Brennan walked up to Cam, speaking too quietly for Booth to hear. Cam's eyebrows drew together, but eventually she just shrugged. Then Brennan gathered up a stack of files and headed to her office.

Booth tore his eyes away, glancing again his watch and realizing he needed to head out right now to be only five minutes late. As soon as he turned around, though, Angela's hard, stony glare stopped him.

"Ange? Something wrong?' He looked at her expectantly, genuinely bewildered until she, too, flicked her eyes in the direction of Brennan's office.

"Oh, nothing. Just that I can already tell I'm going to have to pry the paperwork out of Brennan's hands to get her to leave the lab tonight."

"What do you-"

"She's been working pretty late recently. All night sometimes." Accusation pulsed through Angela's turned, and Booth's gut twisted with a guilt he wasn't ready to claim.

They both knew that this was an old habit for Brennan, but one that hadn't been active for years. Booth didn't like the implications of its return.

Ducking his head, unable to fully meet Angela's eyes, Booth muttered, "I…I hadn't really noticed."

"Yeah I know," Angela sighed. "I know you don't notice her."

His head snapped up, some sort of protest rising in his throat, but Angela's back was to him. As she walked away, Booth admitted to himself that he didn't know what kind of defense he could have given.

No longer preoccupied with his watch, Booth started toward Brennan's office. At the door, he nearly knocked but thought better of it, opening the door and sticking his head in. "Hey, Bones?"

Brennan looked up, surprised. "I thought you were going."

"I was. I mean, I am just wanted to, uh…see if you wanted to join Hannah and me for dinner?" Brennan just blinked at him, expressionless. He added, "It's just the diner."

For a moment, Brennan looked at him, and he couldn't read her face. Then, she turned her attention back to the paperwork. "Um…no. Thanks, but I'm going to get a head start on the paperwork."

"Aw, c'mon Bones. You need a break as much as the rest of us."

Even as Brennan shook her head, Booth didn't move. HE was doing some quick mental calculations, trying to remember the last time the two of them had been out for a meal, or even just drinks, after work. Two weeks? Three?

There was that time at the end of the Harrison case, when the whole team had gone to Founding Fathers. Hannah had met him there.

That was three and a half weeks ago. As for the last time the two of them had gone out on their own…Booth couldn't even remember.

He felt a sudden pang of longing, deep in the chest. He knew there was some truth to Angela's statement.

Brennan looked up at him, misreading his reasons for lingering in her doorway. "It's okay, Booth. Really. Go see your girlfriend."

At that, Booth could do nothing but nod. "Don't stay too late, okay?"

She didn't bother answering, and after a beat Booth simply closed the door.

~(B*B)~

Staring at the closed door, Brennan determinedly set her jaw and swallowed away the tightness in her throat.

There was no reason this should still bother her.

Inwardly, she scolded herself for even asking Booth to get dinner. It had been a long time since she'd bothered, but this case had been long and draining; the prospect of the two of them at Founding Fathers had seemed so tempting Brennan had nearly forgotten they didn't do that anymore.

Brennan had always been prepared for change. She knew better than anyone that it was natural (entropy, and all that), and that nothing was constant.

And, in the five months since they'd gotten back to DC, she and Booth had surely changed. Their partnership, now almost completely professional, was barely recognizable to the one they'd had just over a year ago.

It wasn't entirely Booth's fault, Brennan knew. For the first month or so, he'd invited her out with him and Hannah, trying to include her. But after awhile, when it became clear that seeing Booth and his girlfriend together wasn't getting any easier, Brennan started refusing. A few weeks of that, and Booth stopped asking.

So that was a change – that Booth and Brennan spent little to no time together outside of work, as well as the fact that cases were essentially the only thing they talked about anymore.

But there were other, smaller changes too, ones Brennan couldn't exactly quantify or even properly explain. Something lacking in the way Booth looked at her, for example, or an uncertain awkwardness that had never existed before.

And Brennan missed it, all of it, more than she wanted to admit.

The door to her office swung open, and Angela entered, her face already set in a 'no-arguments' sort of expression. "Sweetie, come on. We're going for drinks."

Brennan looked up, already racking her brain for the excuse she'd used least frequently. "Who is?"

"All of us. Well," Angela rolled her eyes. "All of us except Booth. I'm not letting you stay in here all night, not after the week we've had…you must need a drink as much as I do, not to mention sleep."

Brennan eyed Angela's bulging stomach pointedly. "You can't drink."

"Exactly. Be grateful you can. Besides, I need the vicarious buzz."

"That doesn't make any sense," Brennan countered, already turning her attention back to her work.

Huffing loudly, Angela moved in front of Brennan's desk, reached out, and closed the folder Brennan was scanning. "Sweetie. Look at my face. Don't argue with hormones. Come on."

As Angela grabbed Brennan's coat and practically threw it at her, Brennan stood, not willing to engage in a lengthy argument. She followed Angela compliantly out the office, almost smiling as she realized that at least some things were, for now at least, immune from entropy.

~(B*B)~

Booth was fifteen minutes late for dinner, and his mind was on Brennan. Angela's comment had shaken him. He wasn't oblivious to how distant they'd become (or how much of it was his fault), but he'd never thought of it in such harsh terms before.

You don't notice her.

He sat down at a booth, turning the words over and over in his mind. It wasn't true. He noticed Bones…didn't he?

They still worked well together, they still got along. They didn't really see each other outside of work anymore, true, and Booth missed her (much more than he liked to admit). But Sweets had been right, to an extent, that he and Bones had always had a surrogate relationship.

And you couldn't continue with a surrogate relationship and still expect to have a real one.

It was only at that thought that Booth remembered Hannah and, glancing at his watch, realized she was over twenty minutes late.

Unease beginning to fill him, Booth got out his cell phone.

~(B*B)~

Brennan didn't miss the fact that Hodgins and Angela took an unnecessarily lengthy route home from the bar, presumably so they could follow her and Angela could see that she returned to her apartment and not the lab.

She shouldn't have worried so much. Toward the end of the evening, Brennan had started to feel the exhaustion the others had spent the night complaining about (not that it had them leaving to go home any earlier).

For once, Brennan was looking forward to sleep.

~(B*B)~

Booth was standing in the middle of his apartment, trying to convince himself he was being paranoid. Nothing was out of place in the apartment, doors locked, Hannah's car still gone.

She got wrapped up in her work was all…in a few hours she'd be laughing at him for immediately expecting the worst.

He'd done that before. Booth thought about a time Bones had been late for a dinner, he'd found her apartment empty, phone was off…he'd been convinced she was kidnapped, buried alive again, gone after some killer on her own…of course, it turned out she'd been down in bones storage for hours, oblivious to the world around her and completely bewildered when he'd burst in in a state panic.

This was going to be like that.

And then the phone rang.

~(B*B)~

Booth calling flashed across the screen of Brennan's cell phone. It was nearly eleven, and he was supposed to be having a late dinner and going home with Hannah.

But he was calling her. And Brennan couldn't stop a strange surge of hope from hitting her; something was different about him tonight…it had been months since he'd invited her along for dinner (no wonder, after her constant refusals). But tonight, he'd come back to her office specifically to ask.

And there had been something else…something different about him. Maybe it was the way he'd look genuinely disappointed when she said no. Maybe it was something different in his voice. Brennan wasn't adept at that kind of analysis.

She answered the phone, "Booth?"

"Bones…" All traces of pleasure vanished; Booth's voice was tight, almost ragged. Something was wrong. "I need you. I need…your help."

"What happened?" She asked, already moving to pull her shoes back on. "Booth what's wrong?"

"Hannah never showed up for dinner. And I just got a phone call." He paused, and then spoke tersely, "Somebody's taken her. He says…he says I know him, that this is revenge for…for something. I have to find her, I have to, but he says no FBI…"

"It doesn't matter, you're the best they have." The reassurance came automatically, but Brennan's mind was racing, trying to wrap around what she was being told. So far, the only thing registering was the pain in Booth's voice, and it made her ache for him. "Booth, the man on the phone...did he make it sound like…" she trailed off uncertainly, not sure to tactfully word what she wanted to know.

Booth, though, seemed to understand without the words. "He claims he hasn't hurt her. And he said he'd be in touch that…" For the first time, Booth's voice fully showed the extent of his anger. "…that this isn't over."

Brennan kept her voice low and calming. "Okay. This is probably someone you caught and arrested, right? So you need to pull your old case files, all of them, and we can see who's out of jail, and who might have a particularly personal problem with you."

"Okay. Yeah, alright, I can do that. Thanks, Bones."

She closed the door behind her, heading to the car. "Meet me at the lab when you have them. I'll call everyone else."

"You don't have to call them, Bones, I know there's no…there's nothing for you guys to examine or anything."

"Booth, they'll want to help you. And the amount of people you've put away…we'll need the extra eyes."

"Okay," his voice was quiet. "Thank you."

"You'll find her, Booth." Brennan told him softly. "It's gonna be okay."

"Thank you," he repeated. "I'll see you at the lab."

Brennan hung up the phone, climbing in her car, adrenaline pumping. She believed what she said; Booth would find Hannah. He'd bring her back.

Brennan, of all people, knew Booth always saved the people he cared about.

~(B*B)~

Cam arrived about ten minutes after Brennan, followed by Booth (armed with boxes of files, then Sweets, and finally Angela and Hodgins.

They split up the stacks and came up with a strategy within minutes. They were to call parole officers to check the whereabouts of anyone who'd been released from prison, and anyone with a history of kidnapping and voice disguised ransom calls was being immediately checked.

Booth left for awhile, driving to Hannah's office. Her car was still in the parking lot, but locked, and if the kidnapper had taken her from there, he'd left no trace.

He went back to the lab to find the others still going through the seemingly endless case files. Angela and Brennan were in Brennan's office, while Hodgins, Sweets and Cam were spread across the platform.

After checking in on the platform, Booth headed into Brennan's office to get an update. He was barely inside the door when he phone rang, and he froze.

Locking his gaze with Brennan's, he said stiffly, "It's him."

"Here," Brennan reached into her desk drawer and handed him the small, electronic recorder she used for lab notes. "Record the call, Angela can try to pull something from it."

He nodded curtly, holding the device up to his phone as he snapped it open. "What?"

"Agent Booth, how are things coming?"

"Listen you, son of a bitch, I'm really starting to lose my patience. What is it you want?"

"I think I've made that perfectly clear, Agent. I want you to pay. I want you to suffer the same way I did. Just like I told your girl here…"

"I swear to God, if you hurt her-"

There was a low laugh. "I haven't hurt her. She's done nothing to me. It's you I'm angry at. But never fear, I'll make this as painless as possible for her."

Unable to stop himself, Booth slammed his fist onto the desk in front of him. "I will kill you, fucking coward-"

The voice on the other end seemed unbothered by the insult. "Oh, you thought I meant…oh, no, no, no. It's far too early for that. Like I said, the fun is only just beginning. You think you're suffering now…just wait."

There was a pause, but Booth kept his teeth gritted, his mouth shut.

"I'll be in touch," the voice said at last, before a click ended the call.

Booth shoved his phone into his pocket, barely repressing the urge to throw it across the room, before passing the recorder wordlessly to Angela.

"Booth?" Brennan asked cautiously. She stood, a bit alarmed at the expression on his face, and moved closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "What did he say?

Booth abruptly shrugged her off, resisting comfort. A look of hurt flashed across Brennan's face, but he tried to push away the guilt. "Noting knew." He turned, walking out. "Let's just keep working."

~(B*B)~

Brennan stared after Booth for a long moment then walked shakily back to her desk.

Angela was watching her closely. "Are you okay, Sweetie?"

"Yes, I just…I've never seen him like this."

Angela smiled grimly. "I have."

Looking up, her expression puzzled, Brennan questioned, "When?"

Angela shook her head slightly. "Never mind."

~(B*B)~

Booth returned to the platform and grabbed a stack of files out of the boxes they still had to go through .He knew if he stayed close, Booth wouldn't be able to resist demanding explanations every time there was the slightest reaction, so he took a stack up to the lounger area upstairs, trying to keep his hands from shaking long enough to grab the files.

Hours slipped by, the files turning up nothing. He made some calls to parole officers, but each one was a dead end. As more files turned up nothing, and more time passed with no one else bursting in with a revelation, Booth began to realize just how futile their search might be.

They only had records of people he'd arrested. There was no way of tracking each one of their family members or friends, unknown accomplices, anyone with a sense of revenge. And those would be much more numerous.

After awhile, he wandered downstairs to grab more case files, and stopped by Brennan's office again to see her sitting at her desk, listening to Angela, who was sitting on the couch. There was no file open in front of Brennan, just a stack beside her, seemingly forgotten.

As Booth stared, fury began to fill him, brimming quickly to the surface, choking him, barely contained. He was angry at everything: angry that Hannah was missing because of something he did, angry at how useless he felt, angry at the fact that they had no leads, even angry that he'd sat at the diner for ten minutes not noticing that Hannah was gone because he was wasting time worrying about Bones.

When he spoke, his voice was loud and harsh, "Oh, by all means, Bones, take a little break. Absolutely no hurry."

Brennan blinked at him, confused. "Sorry, I was just-"

"Just what? Just taking a break?" He made a scoffing sound. "You think Hannah can take a break right now? I don't know why I asked you for help…you don't like Hannah. You probably wouldn't care if some psycho-"

Staring at him with a completely bewildered expression, Brennan protested, "What are you talking about? That's ridiculous."

"Booth," Angela put in, sounding as surprised as Brennan looked, "She wasn't taking a break-"

Booth ignored her. "So of course you don't care. Are these the files you've done? Pathetic." He grabbed the small stack on her desk and flung them away. Leaning on her desk, glowering at his partner, some vague, disconnected part of Booth recognized that he was losing control, careening off a cliff with no way of going back. But the wild, irrational part of him kept going. "I can see how this isn't keeping your interest. Not scientific enough, right? Never mind that I love her, that she makes me happy…you wouldn't want that, Bones, God no, you want everyone to be miserable and alone like you."

Brennan physically drew back, the confusion on her face giving way instantly to raw hurt. From behind him, Angela spoke in a sharp, furious voice, "Booth. Stop it."

He barely heard her, repeating, "I love her. Just because you're incapable of that doesn't mean everyone is." He straightened up, a low, hollow laugh escaping him. "Of course you don't get it, Brennan. How could you?"

Silence fell. Brennan stared at him, her eyes slowly filling with tears, her expression suggesting he'd just pulled out a gun and pointed it at her face. "Okay. Um…okay," Her voice was quieter than he'd ever heard it, thick with tears and fragile like a child's. Even before he mentally registered, before his rage drained away, Booth's stomach lurched, some part of him already sickened by what he'd just done. "I think…I think I should go. I'll go."

She stood abruptly and moved toward the door. Before he could stop himself, Booth spat bitterly after her, half from leftover anger, half from panic. "Fine. Fine, go, I don't need you."

Brennan stopped walking at that, frozen. Then she slowly deliberately turned and stared at him, tears giving her away, her expression absolutely shattered.

It was this that broke him. The fact that she'd turned around, the fact that, after everything he'd said, the claim 'I don't need you' had clearly cut her deepest. He'd meant just tonight, for the search, but it had come out meaning so much more.

That moment, the two of them staring at each other, seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, Brenan turned around again and continued out of the office.

"Sweetie…" Angela called after her, but Brennan didn't turn around, leaving Booth and Angela standing in the quiet.

Booth was shaking. It felt like the first moment after a car accident…silent and still, but the sense of destruction all around.

Then Angela was in front of him, slamming a file into his chest. When she spoke, her voice was flat and icy. "Like I was just telling Brennan before you came in…all we picked up from the audio was street noises and a radio. So either he's still got Hannah in a car with him, or he's left the place he's keeping her." She started toward the door, then turned, "Oh, and those files you just destroyed are ones that haven't been looked through. Might want to take care of that."

~(B*B)~

Brennan was still fighting tears when she entered her apartment, the stack of files she'd taken from the box as she'd left in her arms. Awkwardly closing the door with her foot, Brennan closed her eyes and inwardly scolded herself for letting what Booth said bother her.

You already knew what Booth thought of you. You knew he doesn't need you anymore. None of this is new information.

Still, Brennan drew a breath and a crooked, strangled sob rose out of her throat. She gritted her teeth, choking back more.

It doesn't matter.

Distracted with keeping her emotions in check, Brennan didn't hear the footsteps behind her until one hand seized her arm and the other wrapped around to press a rag to her face, knocking the files from her hands and onto the floor.

She twisted instinctually, grabbing her assailants arm and nearly flipping him over. Free of his grip, Brennan started to run, needing to get to her bedroom, to the gun in her bedside table. But whatever was on that rag was fast acting, and she was starting to become dizzy and disoriented.

In the living room, she nearly losing her balance, she grabbed the counter for support, her shaky hands knocking over a lamp. The man, who she could now see was tall and muscular, his head covered in a black mask. He lunged at her, throwing aside a coffee table and managing to grab her foot.

Sticking out one hand to break the fall, there was a series of sickening pops and cracks as her finers collapsed under the weight. Battling away the pain, Brennan stood instantly, her vision beginning to blur and twist. She squinted, relying only on the knowledge of her surroundings. The man was blocking her path to the bedroom; she wouldn't be able to get to her gun.

She took off at a run, heading for the door, but he was faster and unencumbered by chloroform. He lunged again, knocking Brennan down, her head colliding with the counter on the way.

When she came to, seconds later, she was lying on the carpet just in front of the doorway, blood from her head pouring down her face and collecting on the carpet. The masked man was tying her feet together, and seemed to have already secured her hands in ropes behind her back.

Seeing her blearily staring at him, the man pressed the rag again to her face, and this time it did the job.

~(B*B)~

When she came to again, Brennan was being dragged down a dark, dingy hallway. Without noticing she was awake, the man, no longer wearing his mask, left her slumped against a wall as he opened a door.

Acting fast, Brennan braced her bound hands against the wall, bent her legs beneath her, and managed to unsteadily push herself to standing position. She waited until the door was open, her only hope that she could jump and knock this man over, possibly knocking him out long enough to get herself free…

But as soon as she did so, he braced himself against the door, not falling. Spinning around, expression only mildly annoyed, he seized Brennan's arms and threw her unceremoniously through the door.

Her body hit the concrete floor hard, with no way to stop or cushion the blow. Her forehead connected in nearly the same spot as her injury from the counter, and Brennan just barely registered Hannah, sitting in the corner of the room, staring wide-eyed, before everything around her faded to black.

Author's Note: So. There's that. Hope it wasn't too rushed, but I figured it would be best not stretch it all out since you knew what's coming, and that's the important part. So please review and let me know what you think…especially of the last Booth/Brennan scene.

Like I said, I don't like Booth so far this season. He's being very smug and a little vindictive and a lot distant from Brennan. Like last night…even when Hannah said the telephone gift was Brennan's idea he didn't even LOOK at her. And Brennan saying you're welcome and her face just FALLING when she realized he wasn't talking to her…my heart broke. So a lot of this chapter was establishing how distant they are after five months of what we've seen so far, which would SUCK, but that's how he got to this point with Brennan. But yeah, the fact that I'm angry at him probably shows.