Well, after much debate and trial-and-error, I have added a few scenes to the story, edited most of the existing ones, changed some of the dialogue, and cut out some of the things I didn't like. And now it is completely reposted as only a few long chapters so that it looks less cluttered and my changes flow better. This version is actually almost a thousand words longer than the original.
Thanks to those that had reviewed when I had first posted.
Of course, I hold no claim to Bones in any shape or form. But I do own the DVDs and watch them repeatedly.
Warning:This is very angsty and there is very little "fluff." Lots of hurt/comfort though.
--
Control
-1-
The shadows of the room consumed its contents with hungry jaws, sucking in all the light and leaving nothing behind. The only sound came from her hands working against the chains in a futile escape effort. She was alone, and every moment intensified this terrible truth.
The ground was dirt, slightly moist to the touch. The wall to which she was chained was concrete, and it felt hard and smooth under her probing fingers. The air was damp and musty. It smelled of decay and abandonment. And it smelled of something far worse. Something that she knew and recognized immediately. Its fetid scent infected her senses and soon it was all she could smell.
She jerked when she heard the creaking directly to her right. The chains held her firm. She could only watch as the door opened, allowing a sickly stream of light in to ooze over the objects in the room.
So much had the darkness enveloped her that the weak beam was enough to blind her. Blinking, she forced her eyes into focus and glared into the light that had encroached upon her eternal nightmare.
The light made him into a silhouette. His face was merely an outline. A shadow. But she didn't have to see him. She could sense his evil. His twisted excitement. His anger. It tore through the room more effectively than a hurricane could have ever hoped.
"You weren't much of a chase," he said, making a "tsk tsk" sound with his tongue. "I was expecting more." His voice was low and cold, as unfeeling as the dirt at his feet.
She remained silent.
He glanced down at his watch, "I'm afraid it's too early to start the game. So, unfortunately…" He reached into his pocket and took out a small object. It took her a moment to recognize it as a surgical needle filled with a clear fluid.
He was upon her before she could stop him, "It's time to say goodnight, Dr. Brennan."
She felt a small pinch in her neck before falling into a darkness far deeper than anything she had ever experienced before.
--42 Hours Earlier--
Special Agent Seeley Booth walked into the bone suite to find his partner slumped over an autopsy table, a reconstructed skull to her left, and a bottle of Elmer's on her right. He saw a mug of coffee on one end of the table—still steaming. One of her friends must have fetched it for her so that she'd have something to drink when she woke up.
He stepped forward and scooted the skull out of harm's way. "Bones?" he tapped her shoulder lightly, his fingers brushing against her blue lab coat, "Bones? It's ten o'clock in the morning. Time to wake up," he was using his sing-song voice. "Boooones."
Temperance Brennan groaned and lifted her head from the crook of her arm, rubbing her eyes as loose hair cascaded down from its original perch atop her forearm and shoulders.
"Bones?"
She jumped, sending the Elmer's flying across the table, "Don't scare me like that, Booth!" she
exclaimed, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes.
He noticed that there was something small and white stuck to the edge of her eyebrow, "Uh, Bones, you've got a, umm…" he gestured towards his own eyebrow.
She ripped the glue off, swearing.
His partner had been in a foul mood as of late.
"Here," he moved the mug closer to her. "Have some coffee."
She took the cup and swallowed a hefty mouthful. The anger that radiating from her body like heat seemed to lessen somewhat.
"Please say you have something," Brennan said after a moment.
He shook his head.
Sighing, she pulled the skull back to her and stared at it, "How many does this make?"
"Fourteen."
She just kept staring at the skull as if those empty orbits could stare back.
Booth watched as his partner started to slip back into the depression that had been gripping her relentlessly for the past week, unsure of what to say.
It was him, this man who sought to murder any woman who happened to cross his path. There were no patterns, no cause of death, no particulates, no evidence. He left only skeletons in his wake, mere shadows of the humans they had once been. And Brennan was left to listen to their silent words; left to interpret and cope with the information she sought.
For her part, she wasn't faring too well. She wasn't eating nearly as much as she should, she hadn't left left the lab in several days, and no amount of wheedling could procure a smile. She was exhausted and drained, and her low spirits were starting to drag down the rest of the team.
To make matters worse, the killer seemed to be playing a mind-game with her—blasting the skulls into a thousand shatters pieces to be left in a trash can beside the remains.
"Bones, you need to detach a little. These cases are getting into your head."
"I know." She didn't care.
"You're obsessed."
"I know."
"Why don't we go have breakfast?"
"Not hungry."
This was going nowhere. He needed bigger guns.
So he walked over to Angela Montenegro's office.
"Angela, I need your help," he told her with a fair amount of urgency in his voice.
"With what?"
"I need to get Bones out of the lab."
Normally Angela would've made a joke, but she had noticed the obvious shift in his partner's behavior, and her own concern was starting to escalate.
Jack Hodgins and Camille Saroyan were listening closely. They agreed to help.
Armed with the squints, he walked back to the bone suite, where Brennan was staring at a femur while Zack Addy was applying tissue markers to the skull.
Hodgins carefully took the bone from her hands while Angela grabbed her shoulder, "Come on, sweetie. We're going out," she slipped the lab coat from Brennan's shoulders and handed it to Cam—who promptly walked out of the room.
"Why?"
"Because we're all hungry and I'm not going out to lunch while my best friend is eye-to-eye with a skull."
"You haven't been out of the lab in three days, Dr. Brennan," Hodgins said gently. "You need a break."
Brennan turned to Zack for help.
He shrugged, "He's right, Dr. Brennan."
"See, Bones?" Booth said, "Even Zack agrees with us."
Cam walked back in, carrying Brennan's black blazer and purse.
Angela took them and pulled on her friend's arm, "We're going."
With only one final protest, Brennan was led from the lab to the Diner for a well-earned lunch.
--
When they got back to the Jeffersonian, the first place they went was Hodgins' office. Over their food, he had informed them that he had come into possession of a small amount of evidence. Had Angela and Booth not been there, Brennan would have certainly left at that very moment. As it were, things were tense coming back.
"After you gave me the sample last night, I ran it through the gas chromatograph and found out it was clay. Now, the confo—"
"Hodgins," Cam said. "Can you cut to the chase?"
He sighed, "Our victim was killed on a floor which contained clay—from the composition of the soil, I would say it was underground."
"You mean like a basement?" Booth asked.
"That's one possibility. But I found something else. Benzodiazepine."
"What's that?" Angela asked.
"It's a sedative," Brennan said.
"Yeah; it was in a knick on the right ulna."
"How did it get there?" Cam asked.
"Well, my guess is that the killer may have had a vial of the drug near the bone and accidentally spilled it—dousing the bone with the chemical."
"Where's your evidence?" Brennan asked.
"Nowhere else on the bone does the drug show up. And didn't the periosteum look slightly damaged to you?"
She thought about it. Come to think of it, that bone had seemed a little more eaten up than the others.
"So, what? Do you think he re-cleaned the bones with bleach to get rid of the chemical?"
"That's my thinking."
"Did you find anything else?" Booth asked.
"No. Sorry, man."
"Where would you get this benzopan stuff?"
"Benzodiazepine," Brennan corrected automatically. "Sometimes it serves at the base for sleep aids. But it can also be found in illegal drugs like Rohypnol."
Her partner sighed, "Thanks, Hodgins. Keep looking, all right?" he walked out of the office; Cam and Angela followed.
Brennan patted Hodgins' shoulder, "At least we found something. Maybe that means he's starting to decompensate."
"I'll take another look at the bones, Dr. Brennan," Zack volunteered. "Maybe we missed something."
She watched him go for a moment before following him. Zack walked to the bone suite and picked up the first bone within reach—in this case the fifth distal phalange on the right side. Brennan went to the thirteenth victim and picked up the same bone.
Hours flew. Thousands of people came into the world; thousands of people left; tectonic plates shifted; glaciers in the arctic melted.
Then she saw something.
It was there. On the medial epicondyle. The first time she'd seen it she had figured it was a skeletal anomaly, but now she wasn't so sure.
Grabbing a magnifier, she dragged it over to the femur and turned on the light. Then she walked over to the computer it was connected to and zoomed in even more.
The surrounding bone curved up gracefully to form what used to be the upper left portion of the right knee. But on the very edge of the epicondyle was a sharp indentation with slight loss of the bone immediately around it. Small radiating fractures moved outward from the indentation, but none ran off the process. It was a puncture mark.
She grabbed the necessary paperwork and the bone before running over to Hodgins' office.
"Hodgins!" she exclaimed when she reached him, brandishing the clipboard in her hand like a sword.
He looked up from his computer. "Yes, Dr. Brennan?"
"I found something," she said, gently placing the femur under another magnifier, then zooming in again. "You see that?"
"Yes."
"It's a puncture mark."
He looked at her, "From what?"
"It looks like some kind of needle."
He caught her drift, "I'll try to see if I can find anything."
Happy that she may have just found something, she headed back to the bone suite.
Booth caught her half-way there.
"Oh no, Bones. You're going home."
She tried protesting, but it fell on deaf ears.
"I don't care, Bones. You need rest. And you are not sleeping on the couch in your office tonight."
"He's right, honey," Angela said, stepping out of her own office.
"But—"
"Uh uh," her friend, for the second time that day, grabbed the lab coat and forced her out of it. "You heard that partner of yours. You're going home. I can drive you, or he can, but either way, you're out of this lab in the next five minutes."
Booth smiled at her.
No amount of arguments could dissuade them. True to her word, Angela dragged Brennan out of the Jeffersonian within two minutes of her threat.
"Ange, I don't think this is necessary," Brennan said as she inserted the key into the lock on her door, "I'll be fine."
Angela gave her a sympathetic look, "No, you won't be. But that's why I'm here." She patted her arm and followed the doctor inside. "So, where do you keep the alcohol again? I know I restocked it the last time I was here."
Brennan smiled and pointed to the far corner of her kitchen, where she had tucked a small cabinet.
Angela clicked her tongue, "Should keep it clearer sight, honey." She went around to it and opened a few doors and started pulling things out, glancing at labels.
She sighed, "I just don't need—"
"Drink, honey," the artist instructed, cutting into her protests—though not unkindly.
She took the glass that was offered to her and obeyed, "This is really strong, Angela." It burned as it went down her throat.
"That's the point. You need to loosen up a little. Now, I'm going to stay here until you feel better and then you're going to go to bed. And once you're in bed, you're sleeping.
"And, sweetie, if I come into the lab tomorrow to find that you've shown up any earlier than nine o'clock, I'm going to bring you back here and tell Booth he needs to post security outside the door to prevent you from leaving. I'm not joking." She reached forward and took her hand, "You need to get some rest. Will you promise me to try?"
"Okay," she smiled weakly, knowing her friend would carry out her threat if need be.
Angela stayed until eleven; Brennan could only manage to stay awake until ten-thirty.
--
Rain had come during the night, washing the heat from the city and invigorating some of the local population. By eight, the sun had taken watch over the sky, waking Brennan far earlier than she had wanted. Banned from the lab, she had meandered around her kitchen for a while, waiting until the clock had hit nine.
She had realized a while ago that her life was dominated by her work. Rarely did she take a vacation or go anywhere without bringing it with her. But it had become her life, and somewhere along the way it had also become apparent that if she had a choice, she would still chose her skeletons over a personal life.
Which was why, at nine o'clock on the dot, she stepped into the lab, heading straight for her entomologist.
"Dr. Brennan," Hodgins said when he saw her. "I'm glad to see you made it in."
"What?"
"Angela told us that if we saw you any earlier than nine o'clock, we were supposed to either escort you home or call her."
That didn't surprise Brennan in the least, "I see. Do you have any results?"
He smiled, "Yeah. I found digoxin."
"What's that?"
"It's an anti-arrhythmic used to treat congestive heart failure or cardiac dysrhythmia."
"Why would someone in her late twenties be taking an anti-arrhythmic?"
He didn't know.
"Wait…you found benzodiazepine too," she shook her head. "This doesn't make any sense."
"Could our guy be a doctor?" Booth asked from the doorway.
"That's one possibility," Hodgins said.
"But not the only possibility," Brennan said quickly.
"Can we say with reasonable certainty that our guy has medical training?" Booth asked pointedly.
"It's likely. Yes."
"So what's the problem?"
"Just keep an open mind, Booth."
"Okay, Bones," he flashed her a charm smile before grabbing his cell phone and walking outside the office.
She rolled her eyes before turning back to Hodgins, "Anything else?"
He shook his head.
"Okay," she turned to walk out the door, "If I find anything, I'll bring it to you." She turned left and walked forward until she reached Angela's office.
"Hey, sweetie."
"Hi, Ange. Do you have a face?"
She nodded and walked over to her desk. "Here," she held it out as Brennan stepped towards her.
The woman in the drawing looked about her age, but her hair was much longer and her smile much larger. A thin nose and high cheekbones made her distinctly Caucasian. The woman's eyes were warm and reassuring.
She handed it back, "You gave a copy to Booth?"
Angela nodded, "He faxed it to the Bureau earlier today."
"Thanks, Angela. And thanks for last night."
"Don't mention it."
She smiled at her before walking back to the bone suite.
"Hey, Zack."
He glanced up from a humerus, "Good morning."
"Find anything?"
"No," he paused as she walked towards one of the skeletons, "Uh, Dr. Brennan?"
"Yes?" his tone spoke of slight worry.
"I don't think you're going to want to hear this, but…"
"But what?"
"You've got a ton of paperwork on your desk right now."
She winced, "How much?"
He just gave her a pained look.
She muttered an expletive, "Thanks for the warning, Zack," she said, quickly turning to walk back to her office. It must've been because she had fallen behind as of late. The case had been occupying all her time and she hadn't been paying as much attention to the actual documents which came with it.
He wasn't kidding. Her inbox was spilling all over her desk and she could see a few papers on the floor.
Gritting her teeth, she bent to recover them and brought them to her desk. Then she grabbed a pen with purpose.
Hours later she surfaced, and had reduced the Everest-sized paper-pile to a sloping hill.
Groaning, she put her arms behind her back and stretched forward, her spine crunching. Not feeling quite as stiff, she turned to see Booth standing in the doorway—with more paperwork.
Expletive.
"I've got missing persons reports for the past few weeks here. I thought we should go through them."
She nodded, resigning herself to the fact that she was stuck in a perpetual cycle of paperwork.
He placed the stack of files on her coffee table, while he plopped onto the couch. Brennan settled opposite him, crossing her legs and folding an arm across her chest.
"Cindy Cooper, twenty-two."
She shook her head. "Too young."
"Louise Sheppard, forty-eight."
"Doubtful."
"Mary Shannon, thirty-three."
She nodded, "Maybe."
Five names later, they were left with only one other file.
"I'll request their dental records," he said, getting up.
She nodded, making no attempt to follow. "Okay."
"See you soon, Bones."
She nodded again.
After a few moments, she got up and walked over to her desk, grabbing one of the papers there in the process.
Another death certificate, she thought, placing her head on her hand. Wonderful. Two certificates later, she was fast losing her ability to concentrate. The words were swimming in and out of focus, and her wrist was starting to complain from all of the writing.
Hodgins broke her reverie.
"Zack thinks he may have found something," he said.
"What is it?" she asked, one hand massaging her right wrist.
"Discoloration...the skull looks like it may have been doused with something."
"Do you know what?"
"Not yet. Machine's running now."
Brennan nodded, "Thanks for telling me."
He nodded and walked out.
Brennan watched him leave and sighed, staring at the few papers left on her desk. Her mind was too frazzled to handle something this linear. She needed something more concrete, something more real. Getting up, she made the decision to go down to bone storage.
This place was Limbo. Most of the skeletons that came down here never left, but all would eventually spend some time with either her or Zack in the hope that they would eventually be identified. Some of them even made it up to the forensic platform. But for them time was eternal; it didn't matter how long they were down here. But it mattered to the anthropologist, and so she spent a lot of her time down here with the lost souls.
Pulling down one of the boxes from its vast cupboard, Brennan turned and walked over to a nearby table where a clipboard and pen were already lying in wait. Grabbing the latter, she wrote in the pertinent information before returning her attention to the bones—which were what really mattered after all.
They felt smooth and hard from underneath the gloves she wore, and her hands worked them onto the table deftly and swiftly, forming a picture before her eyes in no time at all. Most of the bones were present, making the identification traits easy to distinguish.
The nasal bone curved up gracefully before it ended, giving it a slope-like look. The orbits were round and the zygomatics high and pronounced. The skull was smooth and the muscle markings light and gracile. Brennan gingerly set down the skull and picked up the pelvic wings to see a broad sciatic notch. When held together the pubic bones formed a wide arch. But the face of the pubic bones was scarred—indications of childbirth. With a sigh, Brennan reached for the clavicle and saw no hint of the sutures that had one been present there.
She sectioned a piece of the femur and prepped a slide. The collagen fibers looked weak and disorganized under a microscope—their support structure out of whack. Osteoporosis.
Brennan stood and stepped back over to the skeleton on the table, wondering about the woman on her table. Was she a grandmother? Had people missed her when she had disappeared in the 1920s without a trace?
Her cell beeped, and she was forced out of her reverie once again to look down at her pocket and pull out the phone.
I found something, was scrolled across her screen. With one last look at the elder's skeleton, she quickly packed it up and headed to the entomologist's office, hoping for some good news. Booth joined her halfway there.
"The chemical Zack found was warfarin," Hodgins said the moment they entered his domain.
"Warfarin?" Cam repeated.
"The anti-coagulant?" Brennan said.
"Would that show up in her skeleton?" Booth asked.
"No. Never."
"How'd it get there?" Cam.
"Well, look at the skull," Angela said. "See the discoloration?"
They did. It all seemed to be surrounding the facial bones.
"I think someone doused the skull in the chemical."
"Why would someone do that?" Zack.
No one had an explanation.
"Three different drugs found on three different victims all killed by the same guy…" Brennan said aloud, thinking. She turned to Cam, "Do you think they could've been poisoned?"
Cam shrugged, "I don't know. There's not a trace of the soft tissue. That's the only way we can test for it."
"It's plausible," Zack said. "We can't find any other cause of death. Sharp force, blunt force, and projectiles all leave marks on the living bone."
"It would explain the puncture mark I found," Brennan said.
"Who would have access to these sorts of drugs?" Booth asked.
"Pharmacists, doctors, nurses…" Hodgins began.
"Thieves." Brennan.
"Nursing staff."
"Interns."
"Wouldn't the hospital notice when drugs start to go missing?" Angela asked.
"Probably not," Cam said. "One small vial here, a pill bottle there. Things go missing all the time."
"And even if they did notice, how would they catch the guy?" Booth asked. "I'll make a call to the local nursing homes, hospitals, and pharmacies," he walked out of the room, his hand already on his phone.
"Good work, Hodgins," Cam said, patting him on the back before departing.
"You too, Zack," Brennan rubbed his shoulder.
He smiled.
"Hodgie," Angela said. "I want to leave in about five minutes. So finish up so we can have a late dinner."
Zack, who lived at Hodgins' estate, spoke up, "Can you drop me off first?"
"Sure," Hodgins said, already starting to pack up.
Brennan walked out of the office to see Cam and Booth in a lip-lock near the staircase on her right.
Feeling slightly lonely, she walked outside to the Jeffersonian's small botanic garden. The air was light and breezy, and the smell of flowers was in the air.
She had knelt to smell a particularly beautiful rose when something hard connected with her skull.