This is my first ever Bones fic. Please read, but acknowledge the fact that I'm new at this.
Oh, and a million thanks to Rissa, my wonderful beta. No, she's not from this site. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure if she is even from this world...
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. But then again, the holiday season is just around the metaphorical corner... sigh. I wish. However, if you don't recognize the name, it's probably one of my characters.
It wasn't until about nine that she gave up.
The door was solid, a thick steel affair with flaking white paint. It had obviously been painted on to make the room a little more cheerful—laughable, that; this room would never be a cheerful memory for her—some time ago. The peeling paint had been wiped entirely off of deep dents in the metal, stained red as if by blood.
Temperance knew those dents. They were the only familiar part of this whole damned room, the only thing in this alien place that felt like home.
She sank slowly to her knees, turning her hands to display her battered palms. Yes, she knew those dents. She had the bruised hands to show it, the flecks of paint that had deposited themselves in her wounds. They stung, those, but she had not the mind nor the time to think about them.
There was no way out, she realized with a sigh. She was trapped.
Still, no one would ever say Temperance Brennan had gone quietly.
And no one could say she had panicked.
It was not in Temperance's nature to panic. She was calm, logical, and she had Booth.
Booth would come. He always came, found her, saved her, and there was no use panicking. Booth would come, and she had to be ready to help him when he did.
Or defend herself if he didn't.
It was just an if. A shaky little insecure if. Just her thinking about what would happen if he didn't come. If she was trapped, alone and in the dark until they finally found her, a decaying pile of bones just like those she examined so often. If He—whoever he was, for she had never seen his face—came back, and tried to finish her off, and they found her brutally murdered in a cellar because oh god, it was just too much...
Temperance dragged in a deep breath and though about Booth.
His infuriating grin, his gut instinct, his protective nature, the way she always knew, now, just how he was feeling, how he was her best friend, her partner, and somehow, always knew exactly what...
Temperance, struck by the last words of her thought, gasped involuntarily.
Because she had thought, really thought for the first time in days, and it was so damned obvious...
"That's it!" She yelled at the empty walls, sounding resounding off the metal. "Oh, god, I know who this is!"
Temperance knew who, but not where or, most infuriatingly, why.
So she breathed as calmly as she could and turned her focus to the room.
"What would Booth do?"
He, Temperance decided, would reason it out. He would look at was was there, and what wasn't there, and connect the dots.
She sighed, running a hand through her auburn hair impatiently. She had never been good at detective work. Only bones. Bones were understandable—they would always reveal the truth, if looked at correctly. But rooms, people... Temperance was hardly expert in those fields.
"It's okay," she told herself shakily. "This is just another case. You are in your lab, trying to identify a murder victim with the others, and you just need to look."
Temperance scanned the room carefully.
There was a crack, a fracture, along the back wall: most likely broken by stress, but possibly just normal wear and tear. The floor was smooth, recently oiled or polished. And there was some sort of dirt in the corner...
A thin smile reached her pale lips. Hodgins hated the word dirt. He would identify it, and then come up with some scientific reason why they had to be wherever they were—like during their run-in with the Grave Digger.
But Temperance didn't have Hodgins with her, much as she wished she did. She was alone: no Zack, no Angela, and no Booth.
It was, she guessed, probably under ground, and probably in a quiet area. The walls were at least a few feet thick, to stop any screams... and that much spare room didn't just sit around.
"So," Temperance said, "it was probably commercial once, but privately owned now. We have our suspects, and Booth will check them out... he'll find this room, and he'll come busting in."
But why? Temperance thought, intertwining her fingers nervously. Why bother with me? The case? Or is it something else?
Temperance sighed again, untangling her hands carefully. I shouldn't bother with why. Just how they'll find me.How they will find out about Him.
The problem, Temperance realized, was that Zack might not find out in time. Hell, she was tied up in the middle of it all, and she had hardly realized...
Booth, of course, had the gut instinct necessary to make the call, and Zack was smart enough, but the two of them needed to work together, and that...
Was never going to happen.
Temperance sighed, falling to the ground. Her head came to rest against the cool metal, and she sighed quietly.
"Booth..."
She had some things she had yet to say, and she was not going to die without telling him...
Temperance slumped, trying not to think of death.
And to think, just a few weeks ago she had had no idea...
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoThree months previously OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Temperance Brennan let her eyes revolve around the court room.
It had been an easy one, this case: tons of evidence and no other real suspect. The murderer would be convicted, and she would be able to leave the box she had to fill as an expert witness.
Temperance's gaze returned to Caroline's. The prosecutor was smiling—always a good sign—and a faint tinge of a laugh colored her voice as she asked, "So, Doctor Brennan, what exactly are you saying?"
Brennan smirked a little. This case was ending rather more neatly than others had.
"I am saying that given the evidence—DNA, time of death, angle of the knife's entry, and the particulates found on the victim's cranium—no one one but Mark Evans could have been the murderer."
Caroline took a step towards her, straightening her suit-jacket. "And you are sure, Dr. Brennan, that this evidence is conclusive?"
"Of course." Temperance allowed herself a rare moment to be smug.
Caroline smiled fully, with the sort of aura about her that cats have after catching a mouse. "The prosecution rests its case."
Temperance vacated the box, stepping down to the seats occupied by her friends.
"Good job, sweetie." Angela muttered, grinning.
Brennan returned the grin, moving to an empty seat.
And there he was—Booth. Sitting next to her with a distinct air of satisfaction, he said teasingly, "You spoke English, Bones."
"I always speak English, Booth."
"Well, yes, technically, but usually there is a fair bit of Latin mixed in. I understood you today, mostly."
"Is that a bad thing? Caroline says I should be personable, agreeable to the jury as well as scientific. I can preserve the facts and still speak 'English.'"
"Touchy, touchy. It's not a bad thing, Bones."
"Then why did you bring it up?"
"Because I thought I might keel over in shock. You know how it is—in a choice between 'Bones speaks English' and 'Bones is abducted and replaced by aliens,' it might well be aliens."
"Oh, ha ha, very funny."
Zack spun around to face his companions. "Do you mind? I'm trying to analyze the human psyche by noting their reactions to the ending speeches and the final verdict."
"That's great," Booth said with an odd glance at Zack, "but, uh, why?"
"Because Angela said I should try to understand people. Both conscious and sub-conscious reactions are a definite part of people."
Zack rotated once more in his chair, facing the jury.
Booth turned as well, growing silent after muttering something that sounded much like, "squints."
Temperance returned her focus to the judge, who was concluding his summing-up of the case. "And now, court is adjourned," the judge said with an air of finality.
Temperance stood slowly, stretching a little.
Booth rolled his eyes, tugging her arm so she stepped falteringly behind him. "Come on, Bones. I skipped breakfast for this, and I think I hear a bagel and a cup of coffee calling my name."
Temperance followed. "Now why is it," she asked as she was tugged along, "that you remind me of a two-year-old?"
"Coffee now, insults later."
And so it was that Temperance Brennan ended up alone in a lobby while her partner went off in search of that sacred caffeinated drink.
Oh, well this is fun. I'll just sit here and twiddle my fingers, apparently, because I know Booth will throw a fit should I leave this spot...
A hand tapped her shoulder, and Temperance spun wildly...
Only to come face to face with a bemused looking man.
He was handsome, Temperance decided as she careened to a stop. Dark brown hair, green eyes and tanned skin, laugh lines: the kind of man Temperance should have liked to look dignified in front of. Which, she realized mere moments later, she had failed at, brilliantly.
"That was rather impressive, Dr. Brennan. I rather liked the part with the flailing arms: it loosely resembled a dying goldfish."
"Oh, sorry." She cocked her head slightly, then said, "I'm sorry once again, but you seem to know my name... do I know you?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. I was on the jury, and when they introduced you as an anthropologist, I figured I would say hi. I'm somewhat of an anthropologist myself: strictly amateur, of course. My name is Robert De Fole."
He extended a hand, which she shook. "Right, well, you already know my name." She paused. "Will we get in trouble for talking? I mean, I'm an expert witness and you are on the jury..."
"Oh, I wouldn't think so. The verdict is probably in by now, and I don't think they would care much. Although, if it's all right with you, I wanted to see if you approved of a theory I've had for some time now."
"Well, it would help if I knew what the theory was, of course."
Robert's face lit up with a half-smile, and Temperance suddenly realized that breathing was, after all, quite important, and it would help if she could remember how to do it...
"Good. Well, I just thought... in anthropological terms, any one group of people living within the vicinity of..."
His sentence was interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone.
Robert winced, then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, but I've probably got to take this..."
Temperance smiled vaguely, waving him away. "You go." Robert nodded and began to pace away impatiently, leaving her behind.
Temperance sighed and turned towards the court room's door.
Suddenly, a voice shattered the silence that had formed.
"Bones!" someone shouted.
Temperance didn't even have to turn to know it was Booth. What did make her turn, however, was the sharp intake of breath directly behind her.
She twirled, for the second time in about as many minutes: but only Robert De Fole stood there, walking away with his fist clenched tightly at his side.
That was all the time she had for observation, however, because Booth was next to her, holding two steaming cups of coffee.
Temperance jumped, slightly. There had been something odd about the tension of those past few seconds.
"Wow, Bones. Relax. I come bringing coffee."
Temperance took the cup and sipped at it, burning her tongue. "I'm sorry, Booth. I feel really strange today, a bit too jumpy."
Booth smirked at her, looking—as always, though Temperance hated to admit it—extremely handsome. "Bones, you're standing in an empty hallway jumping at a friendly greeting. That's a little more than jumpy in my book."
"But I was waiting..." because I thought you would yell at me,Temperance finished silently.
"For me? Jeez, Bones, you could have moved. Now come on: the verdict should be in and I want to see the weasel sentenced."
Temperance sighed, allowing herself to be dragged along.
This is going to be a very long week.
If only she had known how long...
So, what do you think? Reviews are welcome, of course, but be kind.
Now we've met the first piece of the puzzle: Robert De Fole. I will slowly introduce you to the others...
Okay, thanks again to Rissa and anyone who reviews. I love you all!!!
No Flames!!!