The Lies in the Truth

by AmandaFriend

Part of the Bonesology Summer Challenge: take the 100 themes and turn them into story. Here is my solution for the cliffhanger at the end of season 9: Booth has been arrested, Brennan has been detained and the Mighty Hut is no longer so mighty. The writers and producers had their solution, this is mine. Spoilers abound as does speculation.

1. Introduction

The Lies in the Truth

Author's note: As much as I hated the idea of Booth being accused of murder and facing an uncertain future, I really have a great deal of respect and admiration for the show to go there and create such a web of deceit for our heroes to unravel creating a complex story with so many rich possibilities.

I'm going to try my hand at this. While I have a general idea of where this is going, I welcome any ideas you might have. Bonesology has a list of 100 themes as a way to get through the summer and I thought I'd follow that list in order while writing this. I did it before with "Songs in the Key of Life" and managed to survive although it did take me a year to complete. I don't plan on taking a year for this. If any of you visit Bonesology, let them know someone's taken on their challenge, albeit, in my own way.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Bones, but I'm trying to do justice to them and by them.

Introduction

By the third day she finally noticed the bruise. It lay along the right anterior superior iliac crest, colors raging along her skin, the deep purple bullseye surrounded by ragged yellows and greens. She finally noticed the discoloration against her fair skin as she showered in her father's bathroom, the abused flesh tender as she ran the washcloth against it. Usually she would be more observant, but these past few days had been anything but normal.

She studied the colors as they splayed outward from the mottled purple as it went from biliverdin to bilirubin. She'd earned the bruise in the fight with the Delta Force operative, the split second when her weapon would not fire and he kicked her toward the kitchen where she skittered on the floor scattered with debris.

For three days she hadn't noticed the bruise, had barely paid attention to anything beyond trying to make sense of what had happened. With little more than a quick shower and a bite or two of food, usually at the insistence of Angela or her father, she'd twice faced questioning from Booth's FBI peers, been subject to review of her work at the Jeffersonian and had met with the lawyer Caroline had recommended for Booth. She'd slept, if one could call it sleep, Christine curled against her as the slow motion descent into a nightmare replayed itself again and again.

She leaned into the wall, allowing her forehead to rest against the tiles as she closed her eyes. Today she would meet with the lawyer again, try to see Booth again, see if she could enter her own home so recently turned into a battle zone, the crime scene tape sealing it off with a warning notice on the door threatening fines and imprisonment if she crossed her own threshold.

For years she'd sat at the interrogation table, asked the questions, watched the slow disintegration of lies turn into a semblance of the truth, watched as the combined weight of actions and realization turned arrogance to defeat. She'd seen evil before, but this new act had been an introduction to a puzzle she couldn't quite solve. Somehow Booth was the suspect now, the lies weighing on her, crushing her so that she slipped to the bottom of the tub, the spray of water from above mingling with heated tears.