Bones sat awkwardly next to her partner. She didn't know what to say. They were supposed to be separated for a year, but when this happened, she didn't know what to say. And she didn't want to use psychology as an asset to help her begin a conversation next to her tense former partner. She often opened her mouth and tried to start something and then closed it again.
"Okay, I'm tired of this, so I'm going to start a conversation. How have you been?"
"I've been interested. I've been studying a lot of bones. Well, I have a lot of people that call themselves Forensic Anthropologists that don't even know a difference in age or even the difference of a male and a female in five hundred-year-old bones."
"What does that make you feel?"
"I'm not going into psychology, Booth, that's your area of expertise." She moved a little away from him and looked out the window, but found it covered in white. Droplets of moisture clung to the bottom edge of the sill, and she began to study it as though it were more than moisture from a cloud.
It was silent and Booth knew that it would be on him to start the conversation. He could have used the army plane's noise as an excuse to not talk, but the commercial flight back to DC allowed time to talk, but there wasn't anything to say other than small talk. "So, you had a good trip?" he asked slowly and carefully.
"Yeah. It was nice not to have to see the murderer or the family face-to-face. Well, talk to them."
"No psychology of a murder. Just plain bones for you to study. Must be a nice difference."
"It was," Bones answered, not looking up. "I'm sorry that they made me go to see you about the whole…thing."
"The kidnapping of my son. It happens to a lot of people. Why not to me?"
"Because you wouldn't let anything happen to him if you were there."
"So now you're saying that as soon as I turn my back, my son will be gone and the FBI will call you to solve the murder."
"I've only been called because I'm an anthropologic consultant and they found a set of bones that could be linked to your son's disappearance. I've been sent to find their killer which will lead them to your son. I just don't know who the FBI agent will be sent to help me."
"You want it to be me?" he asked, smiling at her as though he read her mind.
"You're technically on a sabbatical while doing your country a favor. You can't solve a case."
"What about a consultant?"
"Not to mention the fact that they will take you off the case if you are involved in some way. I think the son part about it will be enough to take you off the case. But I can keep you informed, so I plan to do that."
"And if you don't like the FBI agent?"
"I'll say that I'm too involved because it's involving the son of my former partner. Thus, I'm too involved because I care for his safety and by default his son's."
"And what if they insist that you are on the case because you're the best Forensic Anthropologist?"
"I can complain and take myself off the case and ship myself back to the Islands. You can go back to your boys to finish off the year. And then we can meet at the coffee cart like we planned."
"Well, I planned for that tense goodbye and the tense return so that we could go on being normal. How do we know that the intensity of this situation won't do something to us?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know, Bones."
"Well, you brought it up and it probably has to do with psychology, so that's your territory."
"I said I don't know." Booth turned away and began to fall asleep.
"Max, what are we going to do with this kid?" Liz asked. "We can't walk into the FBI and just hand over the kid and use it as a bargaining chip. I bet there are a lot of Wanted posters of us on their walls. Nor can we just set him at the front door. Who might know what he'll tell if someone gets a hand on him, especially if they're from the Special Unit. If we don't turn him in soon, we might get caught for kidnapping him instead of those killers."
"We need to see if we can hand him over to his father directly and talk to him and only him."
"We don't know what he looks like. And he's away from DC."
"Can't you just flash on him? I mean, you did it with me before."
"That's because I was seeing what you were going to see, Max. We don't know what's going to happen to this kid. I can't control these premonitions unless I'm touching the subject and there's something I should see." She relaxed back into the couch she was in opposite of Max and drank her tea, heated by Max's (alien) hand.
"Isabel."
"We'd need a picture, and we don't know what we'd see from it. She generally uses it to get an idea of the person, not to find out where they are."
"We can get Parker to get a picture of his father. Liz, it's the only thing that we have right now." He thought for a moment about how it could work. He knew that Isabel could communicate with the person, but they wouldn't know who he is. "We could ask Parker for a safe word."
"It's a long shot that he's even sleeping. Or delirious," she added after the thought of the White Room. She took a deep breath and studied the kid. He was playing solitaire with the cards that she had given him. He looked clearly bored, but he rejected the books. "Fine, we'll try it. You get Isabel. I'll get the kid to get us a picture."
"Liz, you might want to call him Parker," Max advised, standing up.
"But it's my last name. I'll get confused." Max stared at her upon closing the door and she ceded. She slowly walked over to the boy and kneeled next to him at the coffee table. He did nothing to acknowledge her. She exhaled deeply and began to make an acquaintance with him. "Parker, can I get you anything?"
"Are you going to free me?" he asked, still looking at his cards.
"I was going to hand you to your father."
"If you're the bad guys, why are you giving me to my father, but not to the FBI?"
"We're just here to help. We thought that you might want to see your father before seeing a bunch of people you don't know."
"What about my mother?" He looked up at her with hollow eyes, and she nearly shuddered with how tortured the soul was.
"Your father is FBI and in the army, so he'll have tactical training to help us catch the people who caught you. We're not just here to help you; we're here to help your father, too. So, we'll need to meet him, too. And you'll get us to your father." He looked back at his cards and began to play again. "Look, most boys look more to their fathers for guidance after or during a stressful situation because life isn't easy. So they tend to trust their fathers more. I wanted to give you to your father so that you could be more protected by him because of the father figure he is to you and because of his training, he'll be able to protect you."
"Then why did he leave me out here so that I could get kidnapped?" the child looked up at Liz, nearly crying.
"I'm sorry. I can't tell you that. You need to ask your father that," Liz replied. "Do you want a hug?" The kid hesitated, but nodded, and Liz took him into a hug for a moment until his shudders subsided. "If you want to find your father, I need you to get something for me." The kid nodded slowly, and Liz asked for the picture.
It was just another day at the office: playing semantics with Bones, making snarky comments at Hodgins, flirting with Camille, and asking Angela if there was a face she could match to a skull. But then I was in my own office studying the picture of my son. I felt a presence lurking in the corner of my office, and I looked up and set the picture on my desk.
"Who are you?"
"Just a mirage. I'm not a part of your dream, but I can observe it and you."
"Like a dream-stalker."
"I prefer the term mirage. In fact, if you aren't looking, you won't find me." She smiled, and I noticed how beautiful she was. But she seemed much younger than me by at least ten years. I laughed at the thought that Bones would have aged her if she were bones. "Why did you just laugh?"
"Just thinking about my partner."
"I don't have a lot of time, so I have to ask you something," the woman said, moving forward and suddenly looking like she's here for a purpose. "Where are you?"
"This can't be dream. Why would you want to stalk me?"
"Just tell me where you are. I can find your son."
"How did you know that I…"
"Parker Booth, nine-years-old, blond hair, blue eyes, wears a baseball cap. He's safe with my family. If you tell me where you are, I can bring him to you."
"How do you know this?" My breath became shallow and I didn't want to tell her this. Something was telling me that I shouldn't tell her.
"Just answer it!" she screamed. "I don't have a lot of time."
"I'm heading back to Dulles Airport from Frankfurt…" I was about to give her the time when she disappeared.
"Dulles Airport. He's coming in from Germany; Frankfurt. I didn't get anything more than that," Isabel said quickly, out of breath. "We have to find out when he's coming." Isabel looked at her brother. She relaxed with Liz's relaxing back-rub.
"Parker, we are going to the airport. We need you there. Isabel, you need to go, too. He'll think that we took him from you if he doesn't see you. Max, stay here." Max nodded and Liz followed Isabel out the door, making sure Parker was right in front of her. When they were situated in the car, Isabel driving and Liz in the back seat with Parker, Liz decided it was time for pleasantries and how things would go. "Thank you so much, Parker. We have you with your father when we get to the airport." The kid nodded and Liz continued with the dreaded.
"Parker, we can't have you getting away from us. We want to help you and your father, so please don't get away from us. If we can work with you two, then we can stop the bad guys from getting to your father or you again."
"You want me to help you so that you can get the people who did this to me, even though you sort of kept me captive? You're using me."
"To save your life, yes," Isabel answered, so intensely that Parker was silenced.
"Isabel, he's only nine. Maria was one thing, but we are trying to get his trust."
"12:45 am from Delta Airlines. We have about five hours to go," Isabel announced.
"I'll call Max. Watch the kid while I make it." Liz walked across the large hall to the pay phones while Isabel went to buy the kid some food. "Hi."
"Did you find out the time?"
"Yeah. He gets here at 12:45. We're going to wait here for him."
"Alright. Be careful. Don't pay with credit cards, avoid security cameras if possible…"
"Max, I know the drill. We've done this before. I'll see what we can do with the father. See if we can get any help from him. We are not going to let this happen to him, even if he is FBI. We'll make sure they're safe and move on. We'll have as little contact as possible. And then we'll move on like always."
"Alright, Liz."
"By the way, my last name is Evans. Love you!" and she hung up the phone and walked back over to Isabel and Parker, who was shying away from her.
"Please don't tell me that you and Max have some sort of game going on, do you?" Isabel said with disgust.
"No, he's making fun of the fact that his name is Parker."
Isabel nodded knowingly before addressing Parker. "So, we're going to be here awhile. Can we trust that you won't run away on us?"
"Isabel!"
"Why not get to the good parts first?" Isabel reasoned cheerily.
"Liz made me go before we came, so I don't think that I will."