A/N: Thank you to everyone to has put this story on alert and has reviewed so far. Keep on reading, I promise it gets better! ;)
Noises could be heard from the kitchen, telling Hodgins his wife was already up. Quietly, he made his way to the room and stopped. Leaning against the door, he watched her prepare their son's first meal of the day. Michael was sitting in his high chair, busy playing with blocks Angela had given him.
From where he stood, his wife couldn't see him. When she turned, he noticed her worn expression which told him she probably hadn't slept the previous night, much like every other nights. Since her best friend's disappearance, she had spent almost every waking hour trying to prove her friend's innocence. She had worked the program downloaded into the library books for days, until she had turned her attention back to the different symbols found at the different crime scenes. Despite her determination, she had solved neither.
Stepping into the kitchen, he quickly kissed his son on the head before walking towards his wife.
"Hey…" he said, softly, as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "How come you didn't come to bed last night?"
"I was trying to figure out those stupid codes," Angela replied, slightly aggressive.
Pulling away from her husband, she walked over to her son's high chair, leaving a stunned husband behind her. A bowl in one hand, she pulled a chair up to her child with her free one and set the breakfast in front of him. Michael immediately grabbed his spoon and dipped it into his cereal.
"You were up all night?" Hodgins replied, exasperated. "Please tell me you at least got a little sleep?"
Angela sighed.
"No, Hodgins, I wasn't up all night. I fell asleep on the couch. I probably slept two or three hours."
Hodgins stared at his wife in disbelief. He had gotten used to her coming to bed way past her usual bedtime, but she had always managed to slip in at least five or six hours of sleep. This was clearly a new record, one she seemed intent on maintaining for a few days.
"Angela, you have got to stop. This is not healthy."
The artist ignored him and focused her attention on her son who, at 15 months old, could now eat by himself.
"Why do you do it? If it's to prove that-"
"The only thing I'm trying to prove is that Pelant is guilty. I just don't know what he's guilty of just yet."
Angela turned to her husband who was staring worriedly at her.
"Please try to understand."
Hodgins took a seat beside her and took her hand in his.
"I do understand, Angie. I want to get that son of a bitch too."
"Please don't swear like that in front of Michael, Hodgins."
A smile tugged at the man's lips.
"Sorry."
"I just have to find out what the codes are. Pelant is downloading them into library books and movies. Who knows what else he's doing that we're not aware of so far? If we can't get him for the murders, at least we could get him for that."
Hodgins sighed. He understood his wife's desire to put the hacker to jail for good. Brennan and her were very close, much like sisters would be, and her flee had affected Angela very much. Of course, the entire Jeffersonian team was still working very hard on the Pelant case, much to Cam's displeasure who feared retribution if they were to get caught.
"Have you heard from her?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Angela shook her head.
"I'm not expecting her to call me either. Wouldn't she contact Booth first?"
"I still can't believe she did this. She could at least have told him about it."
"Hey, come on now, don't judge her."
Hodgins let go of her hand and got to his feet.
"How can you defend her, Angie? She just took off. She didn't even think about the fact that it would make her look even guiltier."
"I'm sure she thought of that, Jack."
Michael had stopped eating, his spoon still hanging in his hand.
"I don't know, Angela. Also, do you know how much trouble she's going to be in when she comes back?"
"Yes, Hodgins, I do know," Angela replied, coldly. "It's all I think about lately. I know she could have just surrendered but at least now it gives us more time to outwit this psychopath. I was not going to testify at her trial, Hodgins. I'm happy she did what she did. You can't tell me you would have liked to take the stand and tell a jury where the evidence was pointing at."
Hodgins shook his head. The thought of incriminating his co-worker was revolting.
"We have no clue why Pelant is doing all those killings and we don't have the slightest idea what his next move is going to be. What if Pelant had come after her and the baby? What if Christine had died because Brennan had stayed in town? It was very brave of her to do what she did."
"I guess," Hodgins replied, not knowing what to say next.
Since Brennan's disappearance, he had thought several times about how he would react if Angela had been the one to take off with Michael without telling him first. He understood that being aware of his wife's plans would have made him an accomplice. It's probably what Brennan had tried to side step by not telling Booth what she had been planning.
Angela turned back to her son, who had resumed eating.
"I think I'll stay home with Michael today," she decided as she watched him bringing clumsily his spoonful of baby formula to his mouth. "It's been a while since we spent the day together and I could use the rest."
Hodgins nodded.
"I've got to go to work. I'll tell Cam you won't be coming in. Call me if you need anything."
As Hodgins closed the door behind him and made his way to the garage, he hoped that Angela would use this sudden vacation day to get some sleep.
Christine hungrily sucked at her mother's breast as they both sat on the hard and uncomfortable motel couch. Brennan had turned on the television a few minutes earlier and now waited anxiously for the newscaster to talk about her. It had been two days since she had last seen the news and it made her nervous not to know what was going on. What if someone had recognized her in spite of her new appearance?
Behind the closed door of the small motel bathroom, she could hear her father trimming his beard. At first, Max had proposed she should get a bit of plastic surgery, like he had done when he had gone on the run decades earlier. She had vehemently refused, stating that once she would go back to her normal life, she would need to look like herself again. Not only for her professional career, but also for her friends and especially Booth, who probably would find it difficult to love her again if she looked like someone else.
Her father had then provided her with a new identity. Mary Curtis wore a red-haired wig, brown contact lenses, and fake glasses. She had a young daughter named Colleen, aged seven months, but born prematurely which explained her small stature. They were crossing the United States with her uncle, Robert Neil. The trio was planning on visiting Mary's mother. A rift had caused them to not speak to each other for years. Now that Mary had a child, she wanted her mother to know her grandchild.
Max had insisted on that cover-up story, but Brennan doubted they could use it for much time. To her, the story seemed so ordinary and predictable that she feared someone would see right through it and would recognize her for the fraud she was. Max had soothed her worries by saying that not everyone was as smart as she was. Yet, a slight paranoia still remained.
She looked down at her daughter and smiled. Christine was still sucking on her breast, her eyes closed in contentment. She loved her more than she ever thought she would love. For years, she had doubted herself, often thinking she would not be capable of taking care of another human being, yet alone connecting with such a young person. Much to her surprise, she had found it fairly easy to connect with her daughter. One look was all it took to bring out a tidal wave of love towards her child.
She had a similar connection with Booth. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of him, all alone in their home. She hadn't told him about his plans for the obvious reason that she hadn't wanted to make him an accomplice. There had also been Christine's welfare. If both parents had left together and they had been caught, Christine would have become an orphan, with relative to take care of her. Max was obviously out of the question since he was supposed to be on the run and she was not going to let her daughter become part of the system like she had been so many years ago.
Booth's voice still echoed in her ears. She had played deaf as she'd heard Booth yell after her to come back and it had taken all of her might not to turn around and go back to him where she belonged. But Christine in the backseat and the thought of her crossing path with Pelant had been enough to convince her to keep moving. Her cellphone had rung most of the night, Booth's face popping up on her screen, telling her he was trying to reach her. Again, she had ignored it. Soon, she would need to get rid of it anyway. It was better if she didn't answer it.
She wondered whether or not he had understood and forgiven her by now. It worried her to think that maybe her leaving meant the end of their relationship. She had meant every word she had told him after Christine's christening and she hoped that he knew that. She longed to be back in the safety of his arms, especially when she was asleep in her motel bed or in her car.
She thought of her friends and her job back at the Jeffersonian, wondering if her team was still working on the Pelant case or if they had given up hope to ever catch him. Did they believe her to be guilty? Angela had tried helping her by providing her with an alibi, but what about the others? It was Cam's evidence that had led to her arrest warrant.
Anger boiled inside her veins. This was Pelant's doing. He considered himself a genius and Brennan had to grant him that. But no one was perfect. The perfect crime didn't exist. Eventually, Pelant would make a mistake and her team would be on him likes sharks smelling fresh blood.
The mention of the FBI made her look up from her daughter. A thumbnail picture of her now hung in the top left corner of the screen.
"The FBI is still investigating the disappearance of renowned forensic anthropologist, Dr. Temperance Brennan. The statewide search has long been extended into a nationwide one, yet no trace of the famous writer or her daughter has been reported. Dr. Brennan disappeared a month ago, on May 14th, after an arrest warrant had been issue against her for the murder of Evan Sawyer. She is traveling with her six-month-old daughter, Christine. The FBI asks anyone with information to call the hot tip line and reminds the population that the calls can remain anonymous."
Brennan sighed in relief. She had survived another day. No one had informed the FBI of her whereabouts which meant, so far, that Max's cover story was working. Tomorrow, they would be moving to a new place. She still had no idea where Max was taking her. So far, he had taken her across the United States to the West coast. He only gave her directions as they drove down the highways, stopping every now and then to sleep, eat, and exercise. Sitting in a car all day long wasn't good for any of them.
Christine had finally stopped sucking and Brennan realized her daughter had fallen asleep in her arms. Carefully, she pulled down her shirt and got to her feet. She set her daughter down in her playpen and went to lie down on the bed.
She hoped her team would catch Pelant soon. She didn't know how much longer she could hold without contacting Booth. If only she could tell him they were okay, but she knew it would be too risky to contact him. She would just have to be patient. Eventually, the newscaster would announce that Pelant had been arrested for the murders and she would be able to come home.