Hi hi hi.
I thought it was time for a new fic, and this idea came to me all but thirty minutes ago. I've done some research, so if I get a good response I'll continue. Yep. So hola to mah boi.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are property of Fox, Josephson Entertainment, Far Field productions and Kathy Reich.
Chapter One - Leaving the Ground
Dr. Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist of the Jeffersonian Medico-lab, stood over the skeleton of the recently deceased Thomas Fuller. Placing the sternum bone in the middle of the large box, she sighed, her gaze wandering over the rest of his remains. In the nine years of his life, the little boy had managed to break four of his bones. The newest break suggested a fall of some sort, most probably from falling off his skateboard, or hitting the ground after bouncing to high on the trampoline. It was sad, she thought, to think this life would never continue; he would never be able to grow into somebody, or break anymore of these bones spread before her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tempe noticed Angela leaning against the rails of the platform, silently watching her pack the bones away. Her face tightened in worry as Tempe wobbled slightly and she pushed herself off the horizontal bars when she saw her best friend grip the sides of the gurney for support.
"Sweetie..." Angela began.
Temperance looked up and smiled weakly. "I'm fine Ange, really. Vertigo."
"Sweetie you're sick. Let me take you ho-" Angela started only to be cut off.
"It's only the flu. I'll be okay." She dismissed her concerns easily.
Angela nodded, knowing it better to argue with Temperance about her well-being. She continued her watch on the doctor, noticing her pale complexion and the shaky movements her hands were making.
Brennan didn't want to admit it, but she felt like crap. She couldn't remember when she had felt this sick, maybe never. Her sight was becoming more and more blurred and black spots were appearing around the room. Her mind was trying to run through possible reasons, analysing symptoms, but she found she couldn't quite concentrate her thoughts enough to complete the task. That worried her. She also noted her temperature increasing quickly, feeling shivers sweep over her skin when she caused a breeze by moving, her body's attempt at cooling her clammy skin. She decided to stand still.
The sound of foot steps approaching assaulted the silence the two had created and they both looked up to see Agent Booth walking towards them, file in hand, poker chip jumping in the air as he tossed it about. Assuming a new case about to be presented, Brennan straighten her spine, only to have her head shoot a million pricks over her scalp, and she squeezed her eyes tight, hoping neither one of them noticed her mild dizzy spell.
"You okay Bones?" Booth asked her, seeing the slight waver in her posture. He raised his eyebrows in question to Angela, who shook her head and sighed in exasperation.
"She's sick. She won't go home!"
Booth looked at his partner again. She did look sick. "Hey Bones, maybe you should go ho---"
"No!" Temperance exclaimed, suddenly finding herself short of breath. What's wrong with me?
"Everyone gets sick sometimes, Bones." Booth said, receiving a glare from the anthropologist. "All I'm saying is that it's okay to take a day off once in awhile."
Temperance ignored him and forced herself to feign normalcy, clearing her dry throat before saying: "New case?"
Booth bit down on his bottom lip, eyeing her suspiciously . "Yeah, some...human remains found burried in a deserted...Bones!"
Temperance had felt a sweat break out on her forehead, probably at the same time her heart rate increased to a painful hammering in her chest. She couldn't help herself from the wave of weakness that cursed through her body and she was barely aware of Booths strong hold on her frame as her legs gave way and she fell into a black hole of darkness.
Y a-t-il des promenades guidées?
'Cause that's what I really want to know.