This is a story that I wrote and put on the site before I was even a teenager. I took it off for some reason, but I've just stumbled across it and decided to put it back on. Some parts are better than others, because I've edited certain bits. When I wrote this, I think Bones was halfway through it's second season, but I based it a little earlier than that. Of course I had no idea how things on the show were going to turn out J
Sorry for any spelling mistakes that I've missed- for that, you can blame my twelve-year-old self.
Please review- it makes me happy!
Alana shivered in the cold night air. The high heels of her boots tapped smartly upon the pavement, the noises sounding satisfying and she marvelled at the sheer darkness of the night. The sky was pure black, like a giant blanket had been cast over the sun. There wasn't a star in sight. An owl screeched loudly and the sound echoed down the street, making Alana shiver even more uncontrollably. Her teeth were chattering and her skin was covered in goose bumps.
She peered at her watch but it was so dark she couldn't make out the positions of the hands. Checking the road quickly, she ran across and rested below the light of a street lamp. Her watch read 11:44 p.m. The fifteen year old bit her lip worriedly. She was already 14 minutes past her eleven thirty curfew. Damn. Why had she waited an extra few minutes to see if Sam would be coming to the party? Honestly, why had she been stupid enough to believe that Sam, the most popular guy in the year above her, would turn up for some lame house party? Why had she politely turned down a lift home from her friend Sarah, quietly muttering that she'd catch a taxi?
If she had been a little smarter, she could be home right now, instead of freezing her butt off in some strange part of town.
She regretted her decision immensely as she shoved her frozen hands into her pockets and twisted her feet awkwardly in her new high heels. They were too high, and much too tight, with the start of a blister making the back of her heel throb and ache.
Of course, as luck would have it, she had left her mobile at home and there were no pay phones in sight, so there was no way of calling for a cab, unless she walked for a while in the chance of seeing a phone. Reaching into her purse, she fished out a few coins from the very bottom. She screwed up her forehead as she tried to remember if there was a bus station at the end of her road .Yes! There was! She could take a bus! Maybe she could sneak back into the house without even being busted. All she had to do was take the bus.
'If I can find one,' she thought, biting her bottom lip. But now, knowing she had a plan, a chance, made her less panicked, and she set off with a new sense of hope and relief.
After walking for a few minutes she found a stop. She huddled under the shelter and tried to make out the timetable. Her watch said 11:50 p.m and the timetable said that the next bus to Yarroson left at 11:50. Perfect.
Sure enough, a single-deck, polished bus drew up smoothly into the bus parking space, its doors opening with a mechanical "whoosh". At least something was going her way tonight, she thought happily.
Tugging her bag up onto her thin shoulder, Alana made her way to the bus, nearly tripping in her haste, but managing to steady herself as she pulled herself into it breathing in the warmth gratefully as the doors slid shut behind her. Her chilled body shivered less as blasts of hot air surrounded her like the arms of a mother, comforting their child. There were no other passengers on the bus, and she wondered whether the man was just about to clock off for the day and go back to the bus depot, or whatever it was called. She hoped that she wasn't about to be turfed back out onto the street again.
She walked to the driver and smiled politely. He was a cheerful, kind looking man and looked to be in his late fifties. He had thinning, grey hair in tufts, tucked behind his (rather large) ears, and squinted at her through thick, large glasses. He wore a typical uniform, neatly ironed with pens lined up in his breast pocket. He reminded her of her old third grade teacher, and she felt reassured immediately, now she was inside, away from the cold and on her way home.
The driver smiled at Alana brightly.
"Hello, dear! Where'll it be then?" He beamed. Alana felt more relaxed at his friendly attitude. She had always been shy; it always took a nice, soothing personality to put her at ease.
Blinking, she smiled shyly.
"Yarroson, please."
"How old are you, love, fifteen? Ok...that'll be...er...one dollar twenty five, please."
Alana handed over the money and accepted the small ticket he held out to her. Muttering her thanks quietly, she walked down the aisle and sank into a seat gratefully. The bus seemed much cleaner than the ones she usually rode- there was no litter scattered beneath the chairs, no gum stuck to the back of seats. Considering that this was often referred to as the rough part of town, the bus thankfully didn't live up to her nervous expectations.
After several minutes, the bus driver began to talk.
"You out all on your own?" He asked kindly. Coughing quickly so that her voice wasn't muffled, she called her reply.
"Yes. I was just at a party."
"Did you have a good time?"
"Not so much." She said honestly. He chuckled at her reply.
" Aye, you need to be careful, out on your own at this time of night. There are some wrong 'uns. Some lads don't know when fun gets dangerous..."
She nodded fervently in agreement. She had certainly come across some of these boys at parties in the past. Most of them were in her class at school. Jerks.
The bus smoothly turned a corner into a small alley sandwiched between two large buildings. The alley was large, but empty. The headlights of the van illuminated a few dented dumpsters at the mouth of the alley, and the glowing eyes of a cat perched on the top of one of them. Graffiti had been sprayed across the old brick walls, names of people and the dates of their visits unreadable in the dark. Other than that it was completely deserted.
Alana frowned. She squinted through the windows, peering at the unfamiliar surroundings. Was this a shortcut?
"Yarroson,please," She repeated politely, wondering if he had misheard. There was no response. She tried again. Nothing.
The man continued driving. She was just about to ask him where they were until the alley turned into a field, a large expanse of grass, trees and the occasional shrub. The field was bumpy, and the bus shook slightly as they drove over rough lumps of ground. Once the bus got to the middle of the empty field, it lurched suddenly to a halt.
Silence racked the vehicle . Alana's heart began to beat furiously, her hands beginning to sweat. She was incredibly aware of the silence- the creaking of the chair as she fidgeted, the resounding gulp as she swallowed nervously. There was a creak and the sound of footsteps echoed as the bus driver got up and edged towards her, his eyes flashing dangerously with a strange spark she hadn't noticed before, his smile menacing, the most frightening thing Alana had seen in her whole life.
Or would ever see. Because the night that had been a disaster since it had started was just about to get a whole lot worse.
"Excuse me, what's going on?" She asked. Her voice trembled, and her throat was dry.
The driver reached over, ignoring her attempt to move away from him, and took the petrified girls chin in his hand. She flinched as his rough, course flesh made contact with hers. Her heart was thudding so loudly she was sure he could easily hear it in the silence.
"Some lads don't know when fun gets dangerous..."He repeated. His grip tightened and with surprising strength for a man of his age, he threw the struggling girl to the bus floor. Alana landed with a thump as he stood over her looking down like a hunter looks down over their prey.
"But don't worry..."He hissed ,"I'll let you know if it's fun."
Alana thought she was going to be sick. How was this happening? This had to be a nightmare. She wanted to scream, but the terror filled her lungs, and spread so much across her tightening chest that it hurt to breathe.
Her hand clasped tightly over the ticket , her palm sweating so badly that it smudged the ink a little.
After an hour exactly the ticket was on the floor of the bus. Alana and the driver were gone, the lights dimmed and the small piece of card lay forlorn, unseen by the driver before he left. Though smudged, the words were still legible.
"Have a nice night."
The Jeffersonian was completely empty except for one person. One person out of a staff composed of hundreds.
Temperance Brennan was in her office at her computer, leaning forward to concentrate on the screen. All that could be heard was the quick flow of typing, only broken by the occasional sigh or the rustle of papers, most commonly followed by the dull thud of the backspace key. The digital clock on her desk read 12:27 a.m.
It was not unusual for the anthropologist to be at work this late at night. She often stayed behind for further examinations of bones, or sometimes just to catch up on paperwork. She considered all nighters at work to be necessary, practically a duty whereas many of her colleagues avoided them at all costs. For this employee, it was all just part of the job.
Tonight Brennan was working on her latest, un-published book, working hard to get a few more chapters added before going home to get changed for the next day. She had had a relatively slow week, and she knew that taking advantage of this by adding a few extra hours to her book would help her a lot later on, when work began to really pile up. She had never missed a deadline yet, and she didn't intend to make an exception now.
Reaching over, she took a sip of coffee and winced as the now cold and bitter liquid kicked her taste buds reluctantly into life.
Setting the cup back down, she continued with her work. Her last book had been extremely popular and she intended this one to follow in it's tracks. After all, this book was going to be dedicated to somebody special.
Seeley Booth.
The name was perfect for the man. It was like a suit, never loose or threadbare. It was perfect for him.
But was the man perfect?
Brennan knew about the FBI agents rough sniper past, but it was something that she believed that she accepted. The times he had murdered somebody, he had been doing his job, that was all. Just doing his job and she respected him for that. She had to respect him for that. He wasn't one of the cold blooded murderers they dealt with on a regular basis. There was nothing cold about Booth- she struggled to think of any similarities between her partner and the scum that wandered the streets, taking lives without having to feel the consequences Booth did. It was impossible. Those people were cold- they were hard and strong and cruel. Booth was hard and strong, but he had to be. In a way, he was like her. He had lost people during his life, friends, colleagues…but he was warm. He had a kind heart, and he was a good man. How many times how had he saved her life? After all, she was a big pain in his butt. If he was like the scum on the streets, he would just let her die, right?
If there was one thing she was sure on, it was him. She trusted him. She just hoped one day he would trust her.
Temperance sighed and scanned the screen of her progressing book. Things were moving along slowly but she should make the deadline. Stretching, she yawned as the tension in her arms dulled a little.
She glanced at the time. Should she stay and do some more work, or go back to her apartment?
She decided to go home, and, after finishing her chapter and saving it ( onto a pen-drive- she knew if she password protected it, her colleagues could easily just hack in) she collected her things and left the building, switching the lights off behind her.