Author's Note: Yes, another new project. What can I say? I can't resist getting them out there. :D But don't worry, a couple of my other projects are winding down soon or are getting updates. So nothing will be left behind.
A little background into this: This was originally posted on the LiveJournal Bitesize_Bones site as part of a comment fic meme under a different pen name. The theme was crack and cliche fics, and while this might not technically be a crack fic, this was what came out of one of their prompts. I've had so much fun writing it, I decided to start posting it here slowly. I hope my readers here will enjoy it too. :D As usual for my fics, there will be references to my other stories like The Heart of the Family, but as always, knowledge of that story will not be essential to read this one.
I do not own Bones or any of its characters.
Thank you ahead of time to everyone who reads/follows/reviews this. It is always appreciated.
The Confusion in the Duckling
'One boring, normal day. Is that so much to ask for?'
This thought ran through Special Agent Seeley Booth's mind in an endless loop. The agent knew that such thoughts were a lot like those dreams people have about winning the lottery or being whisked away to some fairy-tale kingdom for a life of leisure: nice to fantasize about, but unlikely to happen. Still, Booth saw no harm in indulging in this fantasy for a moment.
He soon pushed that aside, however so he could focus on matters at hand. Right now he had a distraught entomologist, a pathologist who wanted to strangle said entomologist and an unconscious psychologist on his hands.
It had all started in a prosaic enough manner. Booth had been assigned a case involving a murdered plastic surgeon and several very unhappy clients. The victim, Donald Felton, despite having a successful practice, had managed to make numerous enemies giving Booth a lot of suspects to sift through.
Sweets had been working on the case with him, building a profile to help narrow things down. At one point he mentioned that he needed to take a closer look at the miniature stone figurines that had been placed in a circle around the body. Booth had wanted to check in with Brennan anyway, so he decided to take the therapist along.
Once they arrived at the lab, they went off in separate directions: Booth toward Brennan's office and Sweets off to find Hodgins.
"Hey Bones. Got anything for me?" Booth asked as he stepped into her office. The anthropologist was typing away at her computer and did not look up when he came in.
"Cause of death has been confirmed," she replied. "Those radiating fractures in the temporal and frontal sections of the skull indicate a fatal head trauma. Death was most likely due to cerebral bleeding."
"That's great, Bones, but I need something more," Booth sighed. "I was finally able to narrow down the suspect pool to under a dozen people, but I'm going to need something that will trip somebody up under interrogation." Brennan stopped typing and glanced over at him.
"I'm sorry, Booth. I've asked Mr. Nigel-Murray to continue to examine the remains. So far not much else has been found."
"Where is he now?"
"I'm not sure," she frowned. "Doctor Hodgins had mentioned that he might need help with an experiment he was working on to see why the victim's tool shed exploded the way it did."
Booth tensed; experiments involving explosions and Hodgins were not a good mix.
"Did Cam actually give her permission for this experiment?" Booth asked.
"Not the first version of it, no," Brennan replied. "But then Hodgins assured her that he could extract the needed data from a significantly scaled down version. Cam seemed to find that acceptable."
None of this eased Booth's mind in the least, and he was about to go look for Cam when a thunderous "boom" echoed through the lab. Alarms immediately started to screech, and technicians began scrambling about. Booth and Brennan looked at each other for a moment before rushing out into the main area of the lab. Soon they ran into Cam, who had just relayed a series of orders to a group of security guards.
"What happened?" Booth demanded. "Is everyone all right?"
"I think so," the pathologist seethed. "I just know that Hodgins better be all right because I want to be the one who actually maims him."
Just then Hodgins and Vincent Nigel-Murray staggered out of a smoke-filled lab. They tried to speak, but their coughing made it difficult to understand them. Hodgins lunged toward Booth, grabbing his forearms. His eyes were watering, and his face was brown with soot.
"Booth…need medic…Sweets…" the entomologist gasped out.
That was all Booth needed to hear before he ran into the lab that Hodgins had just exited. The smoke had started to dissipate, but the agent still ended up hacking into his tie.
"Sweets! Where are you?" he bellowed.
A faint groan was the only answer he got. Booth rushed over to the source of it and found the psychologist lying on the ground, coughing and moaning. Booth knelt down beside him and gingerly turned his face upward. The agent's hand brushed across something wet, and it was then that he discovered a jagged gash along Sweets' temple.
"Sweets? Can you hear me?" Booth asked. "Are you all right?"
For a moment a pair of chocolate brown orbs looked up at Booth in confusion, but they were soon replaced with white as Sweets' eyes rolled back into his head and he fell unconscious.
This all led to where everyone was now: Sweets lying on the couch in Brennan's office while being examined by EMTs…Booth, Brennan and Angela watching the scene in the office from the doorway…and Cam alternating between handing out instructions for the cleanup of the lab and berating Hodgins.
"I didn't think the explosion would be that big," Hodgins said, unable to look Cam in the eye.
"And may I ask why you persisted in doing the experiment in the first place after I had already said 'no'?" Cam inquired in a low, threatening voice. "Did you think that my answer of 'no' was just a suggestion?"
"When I crunched the numbers, I realized that the smaller experiment wouldn't produce any measurable data," Hodgins replied. "There just weren't enough reactants to create the results we needed."
"Doctor Hodgins deduced that if we only increased the amount of the reactant by a couple of tiny intervals, we could remain in safe parameters," Vincent Nigel-Murray chimed in. "Of course the increase of reactants made it necessary to increase the size of the models in order to maintain the integrity of the experiment. So we…."
"Mr. Nigel-Murray," the pathologist interrupted while raising her hand at him. "I suggest that you stop trying to defend Doctor Hodgins' actions unless you are looking for an equal share of the punishment that I have in mind for him."
The intern closed his mouth and took a couple of exaggerated steps away from Hodgins.
"I didn't even hear Sweets come into the lab," the entomologist said, his shoulders slumping down. "He must have been hit with some of the shrapnel from the explosion. I…I hope he's ok."
Cam shook her head and joined the others in watching the medics tend to Sweets.
Booth had listened to this conversation, his jaw tightening the entire time. Even though he was angry with Hodgins now, the agent knew that it wouldn't last. So he chose to remain silent, lest he say something that he would regret later. In the meantime, he would focus on making sure that Sweets would be all right.
'Sweets will be fine…Just a bump on the head,' Booth told himself. 'He'll have a monster headache when he comes to, and I'll probably have to stay with him tonight and wake him every couple of hours to be safe. He may even have to take a day or two off from work. But after that everything will be fine and things will go back to normal…At least, as normal as they can be around here.'
As if on cue the psychologist stirred and tried to sit up. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. But then the mood swiftly changed when they all saw the frightened look on Sweets' face and the way he shrank back from the EMTs. Not content to wait any longer, Booth marched into the room. One of the medics tried asking the agent to leave, but Booth brushed right past him.
"Sweets…hey. Are you all right?" Booth asked as he crouched down beside the couch.
"Where…where am I?" Sweets asked, timidly.
"You're at the lab. We had to stop by here to check out some evidence. There was an explosion. Remember?"
"Something blew up? At this…lab?" the psychologist asked, quizzical. "Um, that's…kind of cool."
"Yeah well, it's not going to seem so cool here soon with the bump on the head you have," Booth smirked at him. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital so you can be checked out."
Booth began to take Sweets by the arm, but the therapist jerked away.
"Wait, what are you doing?" he yelped. "Who are you, and where are Mom and Dad?"
Booth swallowed hard; Sweets' reactions were making him nervous.
"Sweets…Lance…I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth from the FBI," he said, pulling out his wallet and showing him his ID. "Can you tell me who you are and what the date is?"
Sweets held the wallet in his hands and stared at the badge and identification for a moment before looking back up.
"Sure, I guess," he shrugged. "I'm Lance David Sweets, and it's June 1st."
"What year?"
"1997," Sweets answered. "Why?"
There was a sharp intake of breath from Booth, but then he let it out just as quickly while hanging his head.
Nope, today was not going to be boring or normal either.