Rating: K for very minor language
Pairing: Brennan/Booth
Spoilers: "Aliens in a Spaceship" (2x9) / "Boy in the Bush" (1x5)
Summary: After escaping the grave digger, Brennan receives a very interesting package from someone anonymous. What's inside may just change her relationship with her partner for good.
A/N: I've had this idea for a while now, just decided to jot it down. Some dialogue comes directly from the episode. You'll know it when you see it and when you see it, it's not mine. Actually, it wasn't mine in the first place. In fact, the only thing that's mine is the computer I'm typing on.
Five days…it had been five whole days since Booth had pulled her from the horrid sand trap she had created with her makeshift explosives. Once she'd been released by her doctor and her adrenaline had worn off, Booth had cracked a joke about someone named McGyver. Predictably, she'd had no idea whom he was talking about and he just smiled and hugged her tightly before she forcefully shoved him out the door. He had wanted to stay over to "make sure she was okay" to which she responded she'd been looking after herself for fifteen years and nothing was about to change.
Sure, she'd had a few nightmares but those were nothing new. She knew it was just her subconscious' way of sorting through various stimuli and dealing with it the best way it could. Rationally, once her mind figured out how it was going to categorize the past few days' events, things would return to normal.
Cam had all but ordered her not to come in to work for three days, and so she had just completed her first day back since the incident. Hodgins was still walking around on crutches, but the doctors at the hospital had told her that her impromptu surgery had probably saved his life. Angela was tending to his injuries, both physical and mental, and he too was back in to work that day. Predictably, Booth had stopped by at lunch to check in and get her to eat something. But she had seen something in his posture, in his eyes, in his very demeanor. Something was different about him, as if the Gravedigger had buried him as well. Sitting in the church with him after she'd been released from the hospital, he'd told her that he'd prayed for all of them, that he'd thanked his God for every single one of them.
A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts and she moved to it quickly. The cautious voice in her head (that sounded annoyingly like Booth) made her check her peephole before opening the door. But no one was standing on the other side. Odd, she thought as she unlocked the bolt but left the chain. She opened the door slowly, wondering if anyone was going to jump out.
But no surprise attack came. In fact, the only thing outside her door was a large box. She quickly unchained her door, retrieved the box, then re-bolted it quickly. The package was addressed to her, but there was no return address. The label was typed, making it impossible for her to determine the gender of the benefactor.
"Stop being paranoid," she chastised herself and quickly sliced through the tape with a knife. Opening it up she found several discs and a note, typed again, telling her to watch the discs. And, with instruction that sounded suspiciously like Angela, the note ordered her not to over-analyze the videos, but to take them for what they were.
Helpfully, the discs were numbered and it was only with mild hesitation (and a boat load of curiosity) that she popped the first one into the DVD-ROM of her laptop.
She found herself watching a video feed from one of the Jeffersonian's many security cameras; specifically the one in her office. The time stamp said it was about three a.m. five days ago; she and Hodgins had been in the car underground for just hours. The place was dark, save for the overnight lighting, and she wondered briefly why someone would send her video footage of her empty office. Just then, a shadow crossed the threshold of her open door and a figure shuffled in. The silhouette could only be Booth and she watched as he walked around her office. He didn't touch anything but just gazed at everything carefully, as if he were trying to pull some of her from the objects in her office. He was in casual clothes, but she saw the duffel slung over his shoulder and guessed he'd brought a change of clothes. He paused in front of her desk for a few moments, taking in each item there, before moving to the couch. He set his bag on the floor and sat down, immediately putting his head in his hands. He stayed that way for a few more minutes before lying down and pulling her duvet over his legs. With one arm flung over his eyes, she guessed he drifted off because the video just stopped. She quickly replaced that disc with the next and sat back to watch.
She immediately recognized her partner's office and remembered that there was a security camera just outside his office door. She checked the time stamp and sucked in a breath as she realized she and Hodgins were, at that moment, underground in that quarry with about three hours till the deadline. What the hell?
Then she heard him talking with someone she didn't recognize right away. But as they entered Booth's office she saw Thomas Vega precede her partner with a stern look on his face.
"So what do we do now? The Cantelliever group won't front the money without proof of life. How do we negotiate?" Brennan saw the worry in her partner's face, the anxiety he hid carefully behind his determination. Vega shook his head.
"There is no negotiating with the grave digger," he said matter-of-factly.
"You've been through this what – five times with this guy?" Booth asked.
"Exactly. So I know him, and he does not negotiate."
"Oh what, what no chat room action with him?" Brennan furrowed her brow at her partner's flippancy.
"Are you nuts?" Vega seemed to agree with her. "I hate this son of a bitch."
"Why? He's made you rich," It was then that she realized; Booth, ever the interrogator, was fleshing him out. But Vega wasn't playing ball.
"You know what? You just need to deal with the facts. That if you can't put the ransom together in the time he gave you, your partner is dead." And then she saw it – the moment Booth snapped. With a look of fury she hadn't seen from him before, he grabbed Vega, whirled, and slammed him down on the table with such force it shook. And he leaned in speaking dangerously low, but the mic was picking up every word.
"Here's the deal, right. You have a relationship with this guy, what they call symbiotic. You benefit from each other. So know this: That deadline comes around and my partner is still underground, I will end you, you understand? Yeah? Three hours to live." He lifted Vega back to his feet and shoved him out the door. "Better hurry."
Vega scurried away smartly, and Brennan could only watch as her normally composed partner ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Her mind was still reeling; Booth had threatened to kill Vega. And it wasn't a bluff – she had seen it in his face. If she hadn't made it out of that quarry, Vega would be dead now. A shiver ran up her spine, but she shook it off. There were still a few discs left, and now she knew what they would contain. She would be able to see what had happened while she and Hodgins had been buried alive. Booth sat down in his chair and, with his elbows firmly on his desk, put his head in his hands in a shockingly familiar gesture before the video ended abruptly.
She quickly put the third disc in and was met once again with the Jeffersonian's lab, but this time she saw that her team was gathered on the platform. A timer was counting down, and she realized with horror that it was their countdown. And there were just minutes left. On another screen was a cryptic series of letters and numbers, and Brennan smiled as she remembered the message Hodgins had sent.
"Does it mean anything to anybody?" Booth was asking, his voice near panic. Brennan could tell he was barely keeping it together, and the others were only slightly better off. Threatening someone's life tends to put one on edge, her mind thought cynically.
"They're getting low on oxygen," Cam added rather unhelpfully. But Zach, being rather quick, added the vital piece of information.
"Hypoxia leads to mental confusion."
"It's Bones," Booth said with finality. "It means something." Her heart quickened at the certainty in his voice.
"Did you try just dialing the number?" Angela tried and Booth turned to her quickly.
"I tried all the dumb guy normal stuff, okay? That's why I'm talking to the brain trust alright? Think. Eggheads, work it!" His voice raised several decibels and Brennan saw Zach flinch.
"Booth, their not cops," Cam admonished.
"Yeah, we're running out of time," he shot back venomously.
"Minor correction – Dr. Brennan and Hodgins run out of air in four seconds. We're out of time." Brennan had to credit Zach for his bravery, if not his tact; Booth's face was the picture of anger and frustration. As the clock ticked to zero, Brennan watched her friends' faces. Angela was in shock, her eyes filled with tears. Zach was staring numbly at the screen, and Booth was pacing furiously. Cam was the only one exuding calm, but Brennan could see the defeat in her eyes. After several minutes, she exploded back into action.
"Let's keep working. Okay, Zach figured out what stun gun the grave digger uses and how it's modified." Brennan smiled proudly at her protégé's ingenuity. "Thanks to Angela we know that the grave digger has a customized aluminum casing in the back of his vehicle." Booth nearly growled in anger.
"I got about a hundred agents working that angle. What does this mean?" He beat the monitor harshly with his hand, taking out some of his aggravation on the machinery, and even Brennan flinched a little. "Right here! What does this mean?" And she heard it. She heard the anguish, the panic, the desperation in his voice as he fought for their lives.
"You're forgetting something: Brennan and Hodgins are out of air." This from Zach, who had somehow found his bravado in the face of this emergency. Booth whirled on the young scientist with a vengeance.
"Great, you wanna give up huh? This is Bones we're talking about, and Hodgins. Do you really think they didn't find a way to extend their air supply? Hell, found a way to send us a message, ask us for help, and you wanna give up because of maths!" He was livid now and even Cam shrank back a little at his tirade. But it seemed to be just what Zach needed, and Brennan practically saw his brain kick into overdrive and begin to process the information.
"It's not a numerical alphabetical code or equation."
"It's not GPS coordinates or indications of topography." This from Angela. Booth interjected something she couldn't make out and Cam stepped in.
"Can I make a suggestion? See this is exactly why I was sent here. You guys are brilliant but you won't make intuitive leaps." Zach's head cocked to the side a little.
"You mean jump to conclusions." Brennan smiled at that. And they argued about who the message was for and finally – finally – they got it. Brennan had to give Vega credit for showing up; their time had run out and Booth was a man of his word. But Zach – her brilliant, genius assistant Zach – sported a look of triumph at last.
"I know where they are." Within seconds the lab was clear. Booth had clapped Zach on the shoulder – rather hard – and all but dragged him out the door as he spouted coordinates. Then the tape ended.
One more. She reached for the last disc and popped it in. This time it was a moving camera, as if on the dash of a police car. She heard nothing but the sound of the engine, but she knew, somehow, that her team was somewhere behind that camera. The caravan of police cars pulled up to the quarry and everyone piled out quickly. Brennan watched from the dashboard as everyone gathered near the edge of the precipice, overlooking the vast search area. Booth was talking, she could see his mouth moving, but he was too far away for the mic to pick anything up. Beyond them, in the quarry, she saw the faint puff that had somehow signaled where they were. Then, faster than she could blink, Booth disappeared over the edge. She could see the dust rising where he was most likely running, and she briefly wondered if he'd tumbled down the hill. She didn't recall him being injured or too covered in dirt, so she guessed not. Then she saw his form, distant and at the bottom, sprinting toward their burial site. She saw him pawing furiously at the dirt, clearing as much away as he could, before grasping something firmly. She watched as he used every ounce of strength he had to pull her from the trap. And, once she was safe, he pulled Hodgins out as well.
The video cut off, leaving her staring at a black screen. She honestly didn't know what to make of what she'd seen. She knew that Booth would do – had done – everything in his power to find her. Hell, he'd threatened someone's life for her. And hadn't gotten in trouble, she realized.
She checked the clock and found it was almost eleven o'clock at night. She thought about what the note had told her about not thinking too hard. But what did it mean? Why did someone want her to see her partner so out of control, so helpless? What purpose did it serve?
She took a mental step back and decided to re-catalogue her evidence. She had four separate tapes in chronological order, each showing Booth and how he'd handled the situation. He had come to her office late at night, but she had no idea why. And he'd slept on her couch, probably for the whole night. He had threatened Vega, forcibly, in the middle of the FBI building. And then he'd turned on his squints. His panic was evident in his tone, in his actions, and she credited her team for seeing through his angry façade. And then he'd saved her. She'd told Hodgins that Booth would find them, and Hodgins had said she had faith. In the back of her mind, she vaguely recalled a long ago conversation in the sterile lab just after hours.
Approx. one year ago…
Booth stood at the edge of the lab watching his squints head off for their gala. But before he could let her go he had to know.
"Bones, how did you know I was going to keep your promise?"
"What promise?" she asked.
"To get Sean and David back with Margaret Sanders." She looked at him oddly before shrugging.
"Maybe I was lying to catch the bad guy. I learned that trick from you. The end justifies the means." He nodded at that. For a moment he'd thought…but it didn't matter.
"Hmm," was all he could muster as he turned and walked away. But her voice called him back.
"Booth," he stopped and turned, seeing an odd expression on her face. "I knew you would back me up. I knew you wouldn't make me a liar."
Present…
And he hadn't. He never would because that's what partners did. He had her back and she had his.
She had to see him. Without bothering to change from her sweats she grabbed her cell phone and keys and darted down to her car. As she opened the door she fought a brief moment of panic, but she forced it away. The drive to his place took less than fifteen minutes on the empty streets of the capitol and suddenly she was standing at his door. But now that she was there, she couldn't find the courage to knock. Don't over-analyze, the note had said. She took a deep breath and knocked firmly, hoping she wasn't waking him up or, worse, interrupting anything.
She had just about given up on him, thinking him out with someone else, when she heard footsteps. She smiled slightly as the footsteps stopped and she imagined he was looking out his peephole. Then his locks slid away and the door opened to reveal Booth clad in flannel pajama pants and a wife beater.
"Bones?" he questioned, even as he beckoned her inside. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?" his mind immediately posited several scenarios that would have landed her at his doorstep, and none of them good.
"Everything's fine, Booth," she waved him away. "I just…" she trailed off. What was she doing here? The tapes, she told herself, tell him about the tapes. "Somebody sent a package to my house," she started.
"Did you open it? Was it the grave digger? What was in it?"
"Just a second," she admonished sharply. "Yes, I opened it – it wasn't a bomb. Hence me standing here. It wasn't the grave digger, at least I'm fairly sure it wasn't. As for what was in it…that's why I'm here." He took a step closer and she realized they hadn't made it past the foyer. Suddenly, he seemed to realize it too because he stepped past her deftly and lead her to the kitchen.
"Drink?" he asked, but she heard his overwhelming curiosity about the package leaking through his cool exterior.
"No. They were tapes," she said bluntly. "Security tapes. Two from the Jeffersonian, one from the Hoover Building, and another from a dashboard camera."
"That sounds random."
"It would be, if you weren't in all of them," she returned calmly.
"Me?" he walked back over to her and leaned against the bar. "But –"
"While Hodgins and I were in the car, Booth. Each tape shows a moment when we were buried and you were working the case." He breathed a sigh of relief, and he felt the tightness in his chest loosen. From her description, it probably wasn't the grave digger trying for a second round. But that begged the question: just who sent the tapes? He asked and she shrugged in a very non-Brennan gesture.
"I'm not sure. The letter and label were typed, so I couldn't even tell if the sender was male or female." She paused for just a beat before continuing. "You threatened Vega. I saw it." He didn't say anything at first, but she could see the admission in his eyes – he wasn't going to deny it. "And at the lab, after Hodgins got the message out…you were upset."
"Yes I was upset! My partner was buried alive!" he began pacing around, trying to vent the unexpected burst of energy that coursed through his veins. "We were running out of time and options. What do you want from me Bones? A confession? Fine! I was scared." He stopped pacing and stood still in front of her, his eyes boring into hers. "I was scared as hell that you were going to die down there, and there was nothing I could do about it." Brennan tried to take a step back, to get away from the raw emotion in his gaze, but the bar trapped her between it and him. Why had she come? She should have just left it alone, but her curiosity had won out again and here she was under the unbridled stare of her partner.
"Bones?" his voice had softened, and she saw his hand twitch as if he wanted to reach out to her. In the end, she could only muster one syllable.
"Why?" it came in a breathy whisper, but she knew he'd heard her. His eyes closed, as if he could contain the swell of emotion pouring through him by the simple action.
"Which answer do you want, Temperance?" he asked her, opening his eyes.
"What?" He took a small step forward.
"I'm asking you which answer you want. Because I can give you the whole truth right now. But you're not ready; I can see the panic in your eyes." She cursed him silently for being able to read people – to read her – so well. "Or I can tell you the partial truth, the one that will set your brilliant mind at ease and you can go home happy and safe." And she saw it in his eyes, that whole truth he was talking about. Her brain couldn't (or wouldn't) work properly, so she fell back on what she knew: evidence.
"You slept in my office," she told him, and she watched as he reined his emotions back as he nodded.
"I couldn't sleep here, knowing you were out there buried somewhere. Being in your office helped a little…it was like being nearer to you." Honesty always was one of his strong points, she mused, and he didn't disappoint. Deciding this was safer than their previous conversation, she continued.
"You manhandled my staff," she said firmly. "You beat up our computer screen." She tried levity, but it fell flat at the defeated look on his face.
"You were out of time. I watched that timer click to zero. But I couldn't give up, because I knew you wouldn't; I told you that in church." She nodded, remembering sitting next to him as he prayed for them. Taking a deep breath, she knew she couldn't stop now. Whatever was happening between them, it could no longer be stopped. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she had known that driving over. And she'd come anyway. So now it was time to lay it on the line.
"Vega," was all she said, and she saw the beginnings of a scowl on his face.
"I'm still not one hundred percent certain he's not in on the whole thing," he said darkly. "Something about that guy…"
"You threatened him."
"Yes I did. And I'm not sorry for it. Chalk it up to my 'alpha male tendencies' all you want. I meant what I said."
"You would kill him for me," it was not a question. Without missing a beat, he took the final step forward and locked his eyes onto hers as he reached up to cup her cheek. He had to make sure she never doubted him on this.
"I would die for you." She saw him leaning forward and, even though the bar was at her back, she found she didn't want to move away. So she did the only logical thing she could think of…she met him halfway.
I thought about continuing, but that seemed like a great ending. I'll get back to Heaven's Love now (someone's probably chomping at the bit about that cliffie). This just wouldn't not let go. Please review. Go on...you know you want to...
Oh, and as for who sent the tapes. That's the beauty of it, my dear readers...it's all up to you. I have someone in my mind, but you may have someone different. Anyone fits, so whomever you want to have sent them, sent them. Enjoy.