So its me again. This was a random idea that came to me while i was in the middle of exams - it might not make sense now but hopefully it will later.
Thanks for this chapter goes to Cameron who gave me great support
Thanks, and please enjoy!
Brennan could feel the weight of the day play on her eyelids. She struggled to kepe them open during her silent dinner. She managed to drag herself into bed. But she couldn't fall asleep. No matter how hard she tried, her eyes refused to close, refused to let her slip into her peaceful dreams. She rolled around her bed, her sheets matting into a tangled knot. She ended up falling into unconciousness thanks to the help of a few pills. Her mind closed, her eyes became groggy, and she fell into an uneasy sleep.
*
Not unusally, her dreams were filled with images of the current case. She often ran the scenario over in her mind, the evidence that had already been studied. She usually dreamed of the nicks, markings and formations that had been found, and what they could lead to.
But that night was different.
She walked through the glass doors of the Jeffersonian. The bright silver construction blinked in the sunlight. She walked over to the steel table; dull silver from the many bodies which had lay there. A skeleton now occupied the table, its jaw gaping wide open in a symbol of terror. Brennan buttoned up her lab coat, and slapped on the familiar white gloves.
Zack was already studying the victim. "The bone appears to be crushed here, as if hit with a blunt object but much force – a bat, perhaps. One used in baseball."
Cam, too, was leaning over the victim, inspecting the yellowing bones. "There seems to be some sort of black mark on the victim. It looks like some sort of organic substance. Get Hodgins to check."
Brennan strode forward. Cam looked up. "Ah, Dr Brennan, you're here." She moved out the way so Brennan could take a look.
"There's a greenstick fracture along the distal radius. The ribs appear to be broken." She glanced down at the chest. "Zack, you said that the bone was struck with a bat, correct?"
"Yes, or something of similar density and force."
"But there's a sharp nick on the same bone that was struck..." She mused.
"So the victim could have been stabbed, and then beaten?" Zack asked.
"No," Brennan murmured. "It's too small to be made by a knife. Take a closer look, Zack."
Zack nodded and followed his orders. He studied the bone for several minutes, then turned and walked off the platfrom, disappearing around the corner. A few minutes later he came back with a silver tray holding a variety of instruments, including knives, from pocket to kitchen, and even a razor. He then set about to comparing each item to the mark on the bone.
Brennan turned to Hodgins. "Any idea on the substance?"
"Yeah. It's an organic matter made mostly from polymer."
"Rubber?" she asked, familiar with the substance.
"Hmm, though I can't find evidence of bug life in there which really annoys me but I'll keep looking." He turned back to his computer.
"Hey, Bones!" Brennan turned at the familiar call. Booth walked in through the glass doors, a file swinging in his hand. Brennan felt something inside her change.
But as he jumped up the platform, a strange sound filled her ears, a kind of knocking. "Bones?" she heard Booth ask, anxious to the expression on her face. She covered her ears. "Bones?" his voice drifted away.
Brennan awoke with a start. She heard a knocking sound, and sat up. Someone was at the door. Without looking at her clock, she jumped up to answer it.
"Booth!" she asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Booth was speechless for a moment as he saw Brennan in her nightdress. She was usually prepared and dressed when he arrived, and this new style made him uncomfortable.
"Uh, it's 8. Wednesday. I pick you up." He soudned as though he was talking to a six year old.
Brennan rubbed her eyes and glanced towards the clock on her pale wall. Sure enough, it was eight o'clock. She glanced back to Booth sheepishly.
"Sorry, I guess I slept in. Do you mind?" She gestured towards the couch. Booth nodded and sat down, pulling his legs up onto the coffee table, exaggerating his comfort. Brennan rolled her eyes and went back to her room.
They left in silence, his hand holding the small of her back. They made small talk in the car, but mostly Brennan glanced out of the window. Her dream had confused her. She usually dreamt of experiences that had happened, but she did not recognize finding a greenstick fracture or any black substance. She gazed out the window.
Booth noticed her distressed look. "You ok?" he asked. "You look all sad."
Brennan shook her head, not distracting her gaze. "I'm fine."
Booth decided not to pursue the subject.
They walked into the Jeffersonian, his arm slung casually over her shoulder. No-one gave them a second glance as they walked in. Brennan moved to her office, and Booth raised his eyebrows. "There's a case!" he prompted, trying to lure her to the platform. But she shook her head.
"I just need to do something for a second."
He shrugged, and once again didn't ask. Brennan was glad. She didn't feel like explaining anything. She went into her office and sat down at her desk.
"I just have some files I need to complete by tonight," she answered in respnse to Booth's unasked question. He nodded, and seemed to accept the answer – for the time being.
Brennan saw him flop onto the couch, sinking into the deep red cushion. He rested his head back, and Brennan heard him groan and close his eyes. She moved her eyes to her desk and flickered aimlessly through the stack of files that lay in wait. She opened one, her eyes not concentrating on the tiny black script. She blinked a few times, and the words came into focus. She blinked again, but even though her mind was in concentrate mode, it wasn't taking anything into concept. She just wanted to rest.
After about fifteen minutes, Booth unexpectedly jumped up. "I have to just run to the FBI; get the file for the new case."
Brennan nodded, preoccupied. "Ok."
Booth walked out of the door.
Brennan sat back, now able to stop pretneding to work. Why was she feeling so out of it? Was it because of that dream? What was so unsettling about it? She really needed to work, but didn't fell like talking to anybody. Well, she never did anyway. She dragged herself out of her chair, staggering a second as the room came back into focus. She peeled her coat off the back of her leather chair and shrugged it over her shoulders. The familiar feel of the cotton on her skin was comforting. She walked out of the room, out into the open. The familiar smell of dead bodies wafted through her nose. She breathed in deeply.
And then it started to get daunting.
It was the feeling that something was reoccuring. She wasn't sure how, but it her bones, her movements, her feelings, she just felt as though she had experienced this before. She shrugged off the feeling, knowing that it was impossible.
Yet she couldn't get rid of the idea. It felt strangely familiar as she walked up the platform steps.
And then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She walked over to the steel table; now occupied by a skeleton. Brennan buttoned up her lab coat, and slapped on the familiar white gloves.
Zack was already studying the victim. "The bone appears to be crushed here, as if hit with a blunt object but much force – a bat, perhaps. One used in baseball."
Cam, too, was leaning over the victim, inspecting the bones. "There seems to be some sort of black mark on the victim. It looks like some sort of organic substance. Get Hodgins to check."
Brennan strode forward. Cam looked up. "Ah, Dr Brennan, you're here." She moved out the way so Brennan could take a look.
"There's a greenstick fracture along the distal radius. The ribs appear to be broken." She glanced down at the chest. She couldn't help it, though she was starting to get a cold feeling spreading through her skin. "Zack, you said that the bone was struck with a bat, correct?"
"Yes, or something of similar density and force."
"But there's a sharp nick on the same bone that was struck..." She mused.
"So the victim could have been stabbed, and then beaten?" Zack asked.
"No," Brennan murmured. "It's too small to be made by a knife. Take a closer look, Zack."
Zack nodded and followed his orders. He studied the bone for several minutes, then turned and walked off the platfrom, disappearing around the corner. A few minutes later he came back with a silver tray holding a variety of instruments, including knives, from pocket to kitchen, and even a razor. He then set about to comparing each item to the mark on the bone.
Brennan turned to Hodgins. "Any idea on the substance?"
"Yeah. It's an organic matter made mostly from polymer."
"Rubber?" she asked.
"Hmm, though I can't find evidence of bug life in there which really annoys me but I'll keep looking." He turned back to his computer.
"Hey, Bones!" Brennan turned at the familiar call. Booth walked in through the glass doors, a file swinging in his hand.
Her blood had turned completely cold by now. She wasn't sure what was happening, but it was starting to scare her.
"Bones?" she heard Booth ask, anxious to the expression on her face. She closed her eyes. "Bones?" he asked, louder this time. She started to feel dizzy.
"I think I need to sit down."
Everyone was staring at her now. Booth put his arm over her shoulder and guided her towards her office, then sat her down on the lounge and stared deeply into her eyes.
"Bones, tell me, what's wrong? You haven't been yourself all morning."
Should she tell him? Tell him that she had dreamed about finding a fracture and a black substance, and now her dreamw as coming true? Tell him she was insane? Tell him she was seeing things? She knew it couldn't be true, yet everything that had just happened was exactly the way she had dreamed it.
No. She couldn't tell him. He'd think her as nuts. She shivered.
Booth noticed. "Do you want a blanket?" he asked, lifting the rug off the couch. She shook her head.
"I just need some rest," she whispered hoarsely. Booth nodded, and put gentle pressure on her arm, laying her down. She obliged, but only pretended to rest, if only to keep Booth happy. He laid the blanket over her, and then quietly walked out of the room. He heard the quiet exchange between him and Angela, who had clearly been waiting outside. But she heard Booth tell Angela not to disturb her and smiled inwardly.
*
The rest of the day went without incident. The others often stared worringly at her, glancing her way in case she looked like she might faint. She often had to reassure them she was fine, and then started to get quite annoyed.
She was almost scared to go home. Angela, Cam and Booth all offered their homes to her but she neglected their efforts, promising she'll be fine.
She could tell they didn't believe her.
Booth drove her home, glancing cautiously at her all the time. She sighed angrily. "I'm fine. I just felt dizzy. That's all."
She heard him quietly scoff but ignored him. She didn't even mutter a goodbye as she slammed the car door, and knew she had hurt his feelings, but she didn't care. They were all too overprotecticve.
She tried to stay up as long as possible, but sleep couldn't evade her forever. Finally, she felt the unconciousness slipping in, and she let it take her away, though scared of what she might find.
It'd make me really happy if you guys review my story - see wwther i keep writing it or not, if its a good enough story to carry on. Please tell me what you think.
Thanks for reading :)
Amy (bobthetree123)