"Is anything missing?"

"You mean besides my family?" Booth scowled at the other agent. It was the first time he had spoken since he had let the intruders into their home.

"Have you noticed any possessions that were here earlier that aren't here now?" Flynn restated his question.

"No."

"Perhaps you'd humor me by getting up and looking?"

Booth shot a glare in Flynn's direction, than stood up and began to survey the Mighty Hut. A quick glance around the living room didn't turn up anything out of order. He walked into the kitchen,; Christine's high chair was still exactly where they'd left it when they'd left for the christening. Crumbs from the baby biscuit Bones had fed her still littered the tray. Their coffee cups from that morning were still in the kitchen sink, the rug he had slid on in a rush to call Caroline earlier in the day was still lying slightly out of place.

He walked up the stairs, Agent Flynn close behind. Nothing seemed missing from Christine's room, except for the items he had packed in her diaper bag before they left for the church. If Bones had taken anything extra for the baby, he couldn't spot it.

Leading the other agent through their bedroom seemed like a betrayal but he knew what had to be done. Their bed was still made, pillows and blankets still as they'd left them.; lying where they had been precisely placed that morning with when Brennan had made the bed, taunting him with the realization that he didn't know how long it might be before he crawled into their safety with his partner in his arms again. The realization that he didn't know how long it might be until he held her against him, safely under the covers, taunted him and he had to struggle to look at the rest of the room.

Everything was gone. But, no, nothing seemed missing.

Until he walked into their bathroom.

He didn't have any intention of telling the agent if he did find something that had been removed, but he was unable to hide his initial shock when he realized the only physical item that Bones had taken with her.

"What is it?"

Booth spoke before he thought. "My shirt is gone."

He was still walking around the bathroom with a confused look on his face as Agent Flynn cleared his throat. "What's significant about this shirt?"

"Hell if I know. It's an old Flyers t shirt that I like to sleep in. I laid it on the shelf when I got into the shower this morning."

"You don't know why she would've taken your shirt? It isn't some sort of message as to where she went?"

"Maybe. I've told you already, I do not know where Dr. Brennan or our daughter is. And for the record, the last time I saw her she was not under arrest and she had no plans to run. For all I know, Pelant has her."

"I know better than that. You're way too calm."

Booth snorted, "I've cooperated fully with you and your men. Now unless I'm under arrest I want you out of my house."

"Fine. But just so we're clear, you are not to leave the jurisdiction Agent Booth. And if Dr. Brennan tries to contact you, we'll know before you do. Technology can be a bitch."

"You trying to be ironic?" Booth asked.

Flynn didn't answer, already distracted with his cell phone. Booth could hear him ordering field agents to the Philadelphia area. But Booth knew better than that; no way would Brennan have left such an obvious clue. And there was no way Max would have directed her into a major metro area, Max wasn't the hide in plain sight type fugitive.


Somewhere just west of the Appalachians, Temperance Brennan was settling into an uncomfortably hard motel room bed with her daughter. She curled herself tightly into a ball and tucked the baby into the small space left between her knees and her forehead. The exhaustion of the day catching caught up with her as she finally allowed her body to rest; tears dripped unchecked from her eyes and onto her daughter's soft curls. She found that she no longer had the will to hold them back. Her breaths were coming in deep sobs and silent hitches and she fought to keep the noise away enough to allow Christine to sleep. With each hiccup she found herself pulling her arms tighter around the baby, her hands grasping and releasing the infant's night gown almost as if under their own volition.

Every noise outside made her jump with the fear that they had been found. Images of Christine being torn violently from her arms filled her mind and she struggled desperately to push them away. As she started to panic she began to focus on Christine's impromptu pajamas. The baby had her hands balled in tiny fists, clutching the fabric as if it were some sort of lifeline. The gown was much too large, and Brennan fixed the sleeve as it yet again came unrolled from the eight or so folds she had had to create to make it even begin to fit the tiny girl. Her feet hadn't come close to peeking out from underneath of the gown, until Brennan used a hair band to secure the extra fabric into a knot at the baby's side.

But right now it didn't matter that they had to improvise. It didn't matter that Christine's makeshift gown was old, and used and so worn that in places it was even torn. Right now that old, grey t-shirt was the closest thing to Booth they had, and it would just have to work.