Almost Forever

Chapter 33

AN: Today is November 1, so in the spirit of NaNoWriMo, I've decided I'm going to write and post something for this story every day this month, or until I finish it, whichever comes first. It might be a just a few paragraphs, it might be a few pages but I'm going to upload a new 'chapter' every day. Feel free to turn off your notifications and come back at the end of the month when it's all done. Wish me luck.

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The wail of the siren provided a soundtrack to the litany of vengeful oaths and bitter self-recrimination that played through Booth's head, along with an endless loop that included every prayer he could remember. One hand gripped the steering wheel hard enough to leave bruises on his palm; on the other, his fingers traveled along every bead of an invisible rosary, as the practice learned as a child resurfaced. Terror was an anvil sitting on his chest, restricting his breathing to short, shallow pants, pressing against his heart until he felt the pounding of every beat.

I should have taken care of that son of a bitch when I had the chance.

Please, God, not my son. Please, God. Not my son.

The drive to the middle school in Silver Spring was a good forty minutes, sometimes 35 if all the traffic lights synced and there were no issues on the Beltway. With sirens blaring and lights flashing, after ignoring several one-way signs and barreling through every inconvenient red light in his way, Booth made it there in less than thirty. Unmarked squad cars and more black SUVs, all with blue lights flashing, surrounded the school. Standing guard at the entrance, Genevieve Shaw spoke into a microphone hooked to her collar as soon as he pulled up.

A sporty little compact car screeched to a halt behind him. Booth had called Rebecca on the way and although her office was several miles closer to the school, without the benefit of his lights and sirens, he'd beaten her there.

"Seeley! What is going on? What's happening? Where is Parker? WHERE IS PARKER?" Unlike Booth, Rebecca wore her anguish for all to see. Her face was drawn and haggard, her eyes tight with worry. Her hands, when she clutched at him, shook with a fear that bordered on panic. "Was it that - that - that killer who's after you? Did he take our son? Seeley, did he take our baby?"

Rebecca's hysteria forced Booth to temper his own reaction. He covered her hands with his and injected a note of calm reassurance into his voice that he didn't feel.

"We don't know that, okay? For all we know, he could be hiding in the bathroom, smoking his first cigarette."

Rebecca ignored his attempt to ease her tension. "But it could be? What if it is? What if he took Parker to get to you. What if he hu – hurts him? What if he ki . . ki . . ." She broke off, sobbing, her head falling against his chest.

"Rebecca." Booth gave her a little shake, stern now, projecting his strength into her, giving her something solid and firm to cling to. "Nothing is going to happen to Parker. Where ever he is, whatever happened, I will find him and bring him home. I promise you."

Rebecca swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. "I'm so scared, Seeley. He's just a little boy."

Almost by reflex, Booth's arms rose to hold her close. The embrace was a familiar one, the scent of her hair and perfume already known to him, the spot where her head lay now the same one that had welcomed her hundreds of times in the past. Bittersweet memories . . . of what had been, of what might have been had their fates aligned . . . gentled the big hands that spread across her back to sooth and comfort.