The Girl on the Videotape

AN/Disclaimer: Obviously none of these characters are mine at all. Also, this is my first Bones fic, and only my second crime fic ever. (I tried to write one for Monk, but it was really predictable. I hope that this manages to hold your attention. I have several chapters written, but I would still love your suggestions and reviews. Indeed, it is the reviews that often keep me inspired: I really appreciate them. So, I hope you enjoy this story, and that my characters aren't too OOC for you! Let me know: I love constructive criticism and all that jazz.

Also, a superhuge thank you goes out to Angel-of-the-silence, my idea-bouncer. Without you, writing this story would be so much harder than it already is!

Doctor Temperance Brennan was wide awake before she even really knew what had woken her up. Heart racing, she sat up in one smooth motion, and reached for the baseball bat she kept near her bed. It had worked on the last strange man who had tried to break in, so she kept it close every night now, just in case. Granted, the last strange man who had tried to break in had merely been Pete, but, frankly, that was irrelevant. Her fingertips just barely brushed the handle of the bat, and it clattered to the ground with a heart-stoppingly loud crash. Great. If someone was in the house, they definitely heard that. She rolled her eyes and grabbed it, before stepping out into the hallway. She hadn't remembered to grab a shirt to cover herself with—she had come in exceedingly late last night and had barely managed to pull her shirt off and step out of her shoes before falling into bed, let alone change into pajamas—but that didn't really matter. If someone was in this house, she fully intended to knock them out before they could get a good look.

She approached the living room warily, peeking around the corner. It didn't look like anyone was in here—so what had she heard? Just as she was relaxing, allowing the bat to drop slightly, she heard the doorknob click and saw the door crack open. She pulled herself back around the corner, hiding as her heart leapt into her throat. Just because she was able to defend herself in situations like these didn't mean that she enjoyed them. The footsteps came closer, approaching her hiding spot, and, without thinking, she swung the bat. It connected with the intruder's abdomen with a rather satisfying thud, and a loud grunt escaped his—yes, his—mouth.

"God dammit, Bones, this is why you can't have a gun!" The voice was familiar. Brennan let the bat fall to the ground as she stooped to examine the so-called intruder. It was her partner, Seeley Booth, and he was doubled over and obviously having trouble breathing.

"Well, why were you breaking into my house?" she demanded, pressing her fingers deftly into his ribcage. No, no broken ribs—she probably just knocked the air out of him. Was that the phrase?

"I wasn't breaking in," he said slowly, defensively. "I've been out there knocking. When you didn't answer, I thought something...might have....happened to...." He trailed off distractedly, which was somewhat alarming. She hadn't hit him in the head, so it couldn't be a concussion, and, although she was by no means a weak woman, it would have been extremely hard for her to collapse his lung with just one hit. "Bones, you wanna...um...put something....on?"

Brennan froze, momentarily panicked. She had left her room topless, save for a laundry-day bra. It was an absolutely ridiculous contraption, skimpy and lacy. Honestly, it was something more suited to Angela than herself, and had been a so-called gift from Pete from long ago. Her washing machine wasn't working, so she had to wait either for a repairman or some time to get to a laundromat. Now she could feel herself blushing—deeply—and crossed her arms in front of herself. She cleared her throat and backed away slowly, trying to regain any shred of dignity that she could. "Yeah...one second." Mortified, she retreated into her bedroom and slammed the door with an audible groan. Once it was locked, she ripped the stupid bra off, resigning herself to wearing one that she had already worn. At this point she really had no choice: she never wanted to see that other...thing again.

She imagined she was being fairly silly about this all. She was female, so of course she had breasts and other typically-female parts. Surely Booth, of all people, had seen plenty of typically-female parts before, but...it was Booth. This was her partner: a man she had to see every day, and she was wearing the most impractical piece of clothing that she had ever owned. She pulled a work shirt on and buttoned it up as high as she possibly could, and checked herself very thoroughly in the mirror before daring to crack open the door once again.

Booth still had his eyes fixed on the floor, but at least he wasn't bent over in pain. She smiled faintly, not that he caught it, and pulled her bedroom door shut softly behind her. The noise caught his attention, and he raised his gaze to her once again, though he couldn't quite look her in the eyes. "Some swimmers found a body in a lake: most of the...well, most if it is gone, so, um...you're needed. They're waiting for us on the scene: we gotta go."

Brennan nodded, noting with displeasure the strangely stilted manner in which he was speaking to her. That, paired with the strange way he was walking and the fact that he made it a point to walk several paces in front of her, all the way out to the car, certainly bothered her. The car ride was largely silent, until Brennan finally spoke up.

"Look, I'm sorry if I hurt you with that bat—you were just...breaking into my house. Is it getting easier to breathe? Because if it isn't, then that could mean a number of things, not the least of which could be a smaller pneumothorax or internal bleeding—both are extremely dangerous, and you should get help right away..." She looked over, and Booth treated her to a fixed, cool stare.

"I'm fine, Bones, you just knocked the wind out of me. No bleeding or...or that other thing." He returned his eyes to the road for several minutes. "Do you always sleep in...that...or did I interrupt something?"

Brennan felt blood rush to her face again, and slouched back in her seat. Maybe she shouldn't have spoke up, she decided. "No...to both questions. I got in late last night and just...went right to bed."

Booth snorted—it was great that he was returning to normal, but did it have to be at her expense? "So you were wearing....*that* all day yesterday?" Now she returned his level stare, but it accomplished nothing. His eyes roved her face, then lower, and he laughed again before returning his attention to the road. "It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?"

"Just forget it, Booth," Brennan muttered, looking out the window. So much for knocking the intruder out before he got a good look. Maybe she should have gone for the head.

"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen," Booth muttered right back, as he pulled up alongside several other squad cars. He was the first one out of the car, wielding his badge in front of him in order to gain access to the site. Brennan followed, and crouched next to the remains. It appeared as though they had been in the water for several months—three at the absolute most, she estimated. She pulled on a pair of gloves and began to examine the body.

"This is a female," she announced thoughtfully, more for Booth's benefit than her own. "She looks young—possibly somewhere between thirteen and sixteen. She is of average height—around 5'2", and definitely caucasian." She spent a few more minutes prodding at the remains, looking for anything else she could glean in the field, and then stood up. "I need water and soil samples from the lake, and I'll need all of this sent to the Jeffersonian. Carefully, if you would. I don't want any evidence to be compromised." And with that, she brushed past Booth on the way back up to the car.