The Narrator in the Wreckage

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I am the proud owner of my very own skeleton complete with all the appropriate bones, yet I regret to say I do not own Bones.

Author's Note: First of all, the BB story is the current leader in the poll on my profile, so voters, here you go! Secondly, I know there are a bunch of Booth/Bones fics out there, and many are simply mind-blowing. However, I felt I had to throw my hat in the ring, even though it's been done so many times. The problem then became how to write a BB story in a way that was new and different. The answer: tell the story from a victim's eyes! In case anyone is interested in where I got the idea for the murder, it's based off of a screenplay I wrote. Please drop a review.

Chapter One

The construction team's foreman is walking around the site, observing the work of the day, ready to leave, when suddenly he spots it. He puts down his coffee cup and starts to walk slowly—cautiously, up the pile of what was once part of a house before it was leveled by the explosion. Realizing fully what he sees for the first time, he begins to advance quicker, almost running toward it. He stops when he gets to it, fighting the urge to vomit as he looks upon it. The "it" he realizes, is my charred skull. Panicked, he pulls out his cell phone and calls 911.

There are people on the site within an hour, some roping the area off, some setting up equipment, others questioning the construction workers, but no one comes toward me. I realize they must be waiting for someone, but don't fully understand who until I see Dr. Temperance Brennan and some man get out of a black car. I recognize her from the cover of her books—she's supposed to be the best there is at identifying the remains of victims when no one else can. While she gets her suit and equipment out, she looks around, and asks the man where "Cam" is. He tells Dr. Brennan that she took some time off to reconnect with her newly adopted daughter. Dr. Brennan simply nods briskly, and walks towards where the agents are pointing to my body. She's abrasive and rude as she passes various agents working the scene, and gives her actions no second thought as she advances towards my remains. My admiration for her suddenly plummets as I realize she is quite stuck-up and a bit of a bitch. The man she came with lags behind, apologizing to each of the agents on her behalf. He's charming and polite, and I can't see for a moment why he sticks around with her. When he finally arrives at the mound where I am kept, she tells him not to contaminate any of "the victim's" remains, and opens her kit to start uncovering my body. She soon discovers the task is a difficult one as even my eyes bulge and my stomach churns upon seeing what has become of my body.

What use to be me is charred and burned, and I imagine it smells awful. I gasp in horror when I see that my body isn't still attached to itself. In fact, Dr. Brennan starts spouting facts to the man she calls "Booth" telling him that my body became dismembered from the combination of the explosion from the detonation and the bulldozers pushing the remains of the leveled building into piles. She looks around the base of my vertebral column under what would have been my jaw and chin, and upon further inspection tells Booth there are strands of rope embedded in what little burnt flesh I have left. Booth lowers his head in my memory, saying a silent prayer, and asks Bones what I already know as being true. He asks her if had been hung with rope by my neck. She says yes, and her tone is far more somber than I anticipated. He then swallows hard and asks her if I committed suicide. She says she'll have to sift through the debris to re-assemble my skeleton before she draws a conclusion, but it certainly seems that way. My mind races. Suicide? They need to know the truth! What happened to me was not by my own doing. Booth, more to himself than anyone says that he isn't looking forward to telling "the victim's" family. I want to cry and scream, but neither seem rational or productive at the moment. My parent's can't think I killed myself. I know they'd only blame themselves. It's up to Booth and Dr. Brennan now to uncover the truth, and to unravel the story I can no longer tell. I only hope they can manage it.

BNES BNES BNES

The hours pass, and I watch while Dr. Brennan goes through mound after mound and Booth stays with her. He's no real help, and they both know it, yet he stays by her side, offering to fetch her coffee, and ready to help with any heavy lifting that might be obstructing her access to my bone fragments. He stays quiet to let her work and fully concentrate, until Dr. Brennan periodically reminds him that he doesn't need to stay with her, that she could be doing this alone, and he could be getting some sleep. She reminds him that his men are all doing their jobs and he can't start actually working the case too hard until they get a positive identification. He tells her they're partners, and if she's staying, he's staying, but there's something more to it than that. Even they've embraced it on some level, although I'm not sure they fully understand it. Booth wants to be there with her, to protect her, and it's motivated by more than their partnership.

Eventually, Dr. Brennan approaches the last mound. I'm impressed at the care she puts toward handling and unearthing my bones. She seems so cold and distant, so detached from my plight, yet she handles me with respect—as if I am still a real person to her, a person she treats with more dignity than any living person. Booth looks on, wonderment in his eyes as he watches her work, and something else I can't identify. She goes slowly and with caution, yet her moves are deliberate and confident, and my heart aches to think of how much death she must surround herself with every day. After what seems like forever, Brennan stands up for the first time and turns to face Booth. She tells him she's finished collecting all the bone fragments available, and he approaches her, offering her his jacket for protection against the chilled air around them. Accepting it, she shrugs herself into it and says she wishes to bring the remains to the Jeffersonian for reconstruction. She asks Booth to secure the location until Hodgins can arrive to collect samples, and he barks the commands to the other agents, without so much as questioning her motives. He trusts her implicitly, and without even having to ask, she tells him her prognosis, a courtesy I feel sure she wouldn't supply just anyone with.

"Booth," she says. "The victim's hands are gone."

Booth blinks. He has to stop himself from asking if she's sure, if she missed them, but even he realizes that Brennan wouldn't make a mistake like that. He holds his breath without even knowing it, waiting for the news he has been praying for all night.

"I don't think the victim committed suicide, Booth. I think someone was trying to cover up a murder."

Booth closes his eyes, both relieved and disturbed simultaneously. Then he puts his arm around Dr. Brennan, ushering her towards the car, despite her protests, and drives her to her home, so she can get some sleep before they reconvene tomorrow to catch a murderer, each doing their best to ignore their pounding hearts and the sparks that shoot through their bodies at the others' touch.

Author's Note: So this is a very short chapter, but think of it as the teaser before the opening credits, just establishing the crime. The next ones will be longer.