If this seems familiar, it's because I originally had all of my one-shots in one story. I've decided to continue them during the summer, so I had to put them into their own stories. Sorry for the confusion. Oh, and, much as I wish it were otherwise, I don't own Bones.
Brennan fumbled with her keys, trying to find the inconspicuous silver one among the dozens of others that weighed down the ring. Attempting not to spill the cup of coffee in her left hand, the forensic anthropologist found the elusive key and thrust it into the lock. As she began to open the door to her office, Brennan was startled by a sudden voice behind her, causing her to slosh coffee over her new shoes.
"Dr. Brennan!" Zach Addy's usually calm voice was jumping octaves in excitement.
Brennan, uneasily noting her assistant's change of demeanor, cautiously responded, "Good morning, Zach. Have you finished Jane Doe's skull reconstruction?"
"No, I apologize," Zach shamefully admitted. When Brennan nodded and turned to enter her office, he blurted out, "Dr. Brennan, aren't you going to ask me why I haven't completed the skull?"
Brennan, a bit wary of her protégé's outburst, sighed and asked, "Zach, why haven't you completed the skull?"
"I got a ride," Zach slowly replied, his voice squeaky with joy. "Booth pointed out to me that chicks don't respect guys if they don't have a ride, so I purchased one! It's in excellent condition, and it looks very sweet"
Brennan, finally understanding her assistant's pitiful attempt to use slang, pointed out, "It's perfectly acceptable to call it a car." Receiving a disappointed look from Zach, she continued, "But that's great news." Zach broke into a grin, elated until Brennan amended her comment. "Zach, do you know how to drive?"
Zach, flustered by his superior's doubt, responded fierily, "Of course I know how to drive! I can maintain control of a motorized vehicle quite decently. You have to display a valid driver's license upon purchasing a car anyway. With some practice, I'll be driving as well as Booth."
Still unsure, Brennan resigned, "Of course, Zach. See me after you finish the reconstruction."
"Listen up people!" Booth shouted to the squints scattered across the spacious Jeffersonian lab. "Another body was found forty miles away. Our numero uno suspect is suspected. City police are already all over it, so we need to move fast and get them away from the scene. Whole team's coming, whether you like it or not." Understanding the urgency of the situation, the scientists grabbed their supplies and followed the FBI agent out the double doors.
Booth briefed the others on the few details he had as they hurried out into the parking lot. Everyone loaded into Booth's roomy suburban, and he turned the key in the ignition. The car puttered for a moment and went silent. Frustrated that his dependable car wasn't behaving, Booth tried the ignition again. Nothing happened.
As he began to try the key a third time, Zach, hit by a momentary burst of assertiveness, shouted, "Okay, everyone. We're taking my ride. Follow me!"
Not noting Zach's bizarre jargon, everyone jumped out of the car except Booth, who continued trying to start his car. Finally remembering that they were on the way to a fresh murder scene, he gave in and left the suburban.
As the group rounded the corner of the parking lot, they were bewildered to see Zach unlocking a beat-up '95 white Volvo station wagon. "Come on, guys," Brennan urged as she took the seat next to Zach. Shrugging, Hodgins jumped in the back seat, followed by Cam and Angela.
Booth, finally catching up with the scientists, grimaced. The only seat left was the rear-facing seat at the back of the station wagon. "No," he insisted, "there is no way I'm going to squeeze back there. That's where kids sit to make faces at strangers. There is no way in - "
"Just get in the car!" Zach ordered.
Booth glared at the unusually bossy scientist and opened the trunk. Filling up the better part of the already small cavity was a group of boxes labeled 'Experimental Portable Electron Microscope.' Booth gingerly pushed the largest one over, kicked a few dozen volumes of Scientific American out from under his feet, folded up his long legs, and slammed the trunk shut. This was going to be a long, long day.