Title: The Skeleton in the Concrete
Plot: Joining forces with a missing person's agent, Brennan and Booth work to solve one of the toughest murders they have come across.
Rating: T (for totally awesome p ) Some language and sensitive situations will be a part of this story I imagine.
Disclaimer: Why does anyone ever put these?
Spoilers: Maybe some Season 2 references. I will try to stay away from Season 3 plot.
Notes: I haven't written any fanfic in ages. I love feedback, so let me know how I am faring.
Chapter 1
Rural Virginia
2:06 p.m.
"Okay, wow. The reception out here is terrible," Booth grumbled as he waved his cell phone around in the air with one hand, the other stuck to the wheel.
"You might want to keep both hands on the wheel. Statistics show that there are more automobile accidents due to cell phone usage than driving while intoxicated," Brennan explained.
Booth sent her a look and she smiled slightly to herself. For once, they were actually getting along. Well, more than normal. A day without some small bickering would be extremely unheard of.
"Just so you know, I am highly capable of multi-tasking," he said sarcastically.
"Right. Like walking down the street while talking on the phone, and shooting clown heads on ice cream trucks."
"You aren't going to let that go are you? Dr. Wyatt and I had that solved in therapy months ago. Now we are moving on to Dr. Sweets."
"I am glad treatment went well for you," Brennan smiled.
"Not treatment Bones. We just went over some things. Like…a briefing if you will."
"Speaking of briefings, we have driven close to half an hour and all you have told me is that there are bones. I can't believe I got into the car with you just based off of that…"
"You're a curious person. I say 'bones' and you are grabbing your bag and shoot out the door before me."
The SUV lurched to a stop in a secluded area, and Booth hopped out as Brennan followed. Reaching into her bag, she withdrew her latex gloves and started fitting one of them over her left hand. Following behind Booth, he lifted up the yellow police tape as he flashed his badge to a local cop. His eyes searched the area as various personnel flowed through his vision.
"What are we looking for?" Brennan asked, leaning over Booth's shoulder.
"I got a call from an Agent Blake. She is head of the missing person's division. I have strict orders to 'be nice.' We will see."
"So I am taking it that you haven't met her?"
"Not yet. I saved the experience for the both of us," he said with a small grin.
Winding their way through the people, they finally reached an old shack at the edge of the land plot. Shingles were dangling sideways and the paint was peeling off in mass quantity. Booth stood staring, hands on his hips. Brennan squinted against the brightness of the sun. Sweat beaded at the sides of her temples and she sighed.
"Not exactly life styles of the rich and famous eh?" a voice asked.
Both Brennan and Booth spun to see a young woman staring at the shack, arms crossed and brown hair pulled back into a knot. Her skin was slightly tanned and she stood around 5'9. Booth rolled his eyes and laughed. She had to be no more than twenty-five.
"Another kid," Booth cracked in something less than the whisper he intended.
"I'm sorry?" Blake frowned.
"Nothing, "Booth said as he extended a hand.
Blake shook it with apprehension. Switching over to Brennan, she tried to remove the scowl on her visage.
"Don't take offense. Booth is just concerned with the influx of young men and women that seems to be filtering in to the FBI. He is a man who appreciates experience over intuition," Brennan said grasping Blake's hand.
"Like a dagger to the heart," Blake grumbled softly. "Anyway, if you old 'fogies' were doing your job, then maybe the FBI wouldn't need to look to the other end of the age spectrum."
Brennan watched as Booth's jaw clenched tightly. She lightly touched his back, trying to keep the gesture unnoticed by Blake. He tensed to her touch and she felt his shoulder blades draw up. Thank goodness an officer walked up.
"We combed the area. No one around. We did find this however," the man spoke, holding up an evidence sack with a jaw bone.
"You picked it up!? That is compromising remains," Brennan yelled.
"Oh man, I feel for you," Booth said with a small head shake.
She snatched the sack out of the man's hand and turned her back to him, swiftly walking to the porch of the house to get some distance between them. Booth and Blake followed behind her. Holding up the bag, Brennan gazed at it intently.
"If someone else touches another thing, I am out," Brennan announced. "This isn't how I work."
"Look, he is a dumbass," Blake offered. "I'll tell them to pass everything through you from now on."
She handed Booth and Brennan a pair of flashlights and withdrew one from her waistband. Clicking it on, she swirled the light around to make sure it was working. Brennan deposited the bag into her satchel and flicked on her light as well.
"The place is dark. Looks like they threw some type of film over the windows. Watch out for traps. You can never been too careful in places like this," Blake warned.
Brennan watched as the Agent's hand came to the knob. Spinning it a few times, it didn't budge. Blake sighed and looked at Booth.
"What?" Booth questioned.
"Use those muscles of yours and do something about this door."
He smiled to her and threw his shoulder into the wood. It splintered with the impact of his body and shards flew outward. Booth motioned for Blake to enter first and she nodded as she passed him. The house was indeed dark, scraps of paper, cans, bottles and other various odds and ends were strewn everywhere. Furniture sat ripped with stuffing coming out of chairs and pillows.
"Ah, Paradise," Booth sighed.
"I don't understand. If the remains were found outside, why are we looking around in here? I should be where the bones are," Brennan said as she followed behind Blake.
"There are about forty men and women filtering through those woods out there. If they find something, I will be the first to know it," Blake explained.
"So how did you get in on this case?"
"I had been following a tip of a missing person's case I was working on. Long story short, that tip lead me out here."
"How long have you been on the missing person's division?"
"A little over six months. So yes, I admit, relatively new at it."
"I see," Booth muttered.
Blake sent him a glare but it faded as quickly as it had come across her face. A smile came up instead.
"It's fine that you think I am a rookie. And by most accounts I am. But in my defense, I have the highest solve rate for my cases than any other Agent in the Bureau right now," she chided as she shined the light in Booth's face.
With a satisfactory huff, she spun around and took a few steps forward. The floorboards creaked and she stopped when she felt them bending. Quickly she turned around to Brennan and Booth who were right on her heals. She tried to throw her hand up to signal for them to stop, but it was too late.
"Shit!" Blake screamed as she fell downward. Her hands tried to grasp the edge of the hole, but she missed. Splinters of wood entered her hands as rough shards sliced through her skin. She hit the ground hard, knocking the air from her lungs.
"Oh my God," Brennan breathed. She sent a sideways look to Booth who stood with his arms crossed and a small smile on his face. Brennan slapped him on the arm. "Aren't you even going to act like you care she just fell through the floor?"
"Oh right," he said and began to walk to the edge of the gaping hole in the ground.
Water trickled down into the hole from an overturned cup that sat near the sofa. Peering into the hole, Booth and Brennan saw Blake lying on the floor. Her flashlight had rolled about five feet from her and shown on her torn hand, blood slowing oozing from the small puncture wounds.
"Hey Blake, wakey wakey. You alright down there?" Booth called out.
She moaned slightly as her fingers began to grip at the floor for leverage. Slowly she unpeeled her skin from the rough surface of the ground. Dust filtered through her nostrils and coated her throat and she coughed spastically.
"Yeah, yeah," she managed to choke out. "The ground broke my fall." Snatching up her flashlight, she gathered her feet under her and moved the beam around. Droplets of blood from her hand had splattered onto the surface of… something. Kneeling, she brought the light down and gazed at the protrusion from the surface. Extending from the fringes of the concrete was a skull. Although Blake was no "forensic anthropologist," she knew it was human.
Wiping her hand on her mouth and stood and swung the light on Booth.
"You might want to get your bone lady down here Booth," Blake called out. "I think I have something here she might want to see."