I have to give credit to redrider, luli, and jerseybones for the idea for this story...once upon a time, when we all met in DC, we were tossing around the idea of writing something like this together. Obviously that never materialized, but it never really left my mind, and recently I got a few ideas and decided to give it a shot on my own.
Just a warning, though...I'm not great at case fics, but I'm going to give it another try. Luckily, I have kasper to help me with it...she's much better at that than I am. Anyway, enjoy...
Jackson Carter stretched, running a hand behind his neck in a vain attempt to relieve the throbbing there. He was tired, and it wasn't even noon yet. The constant stream of patrons roaming through the museum's exhibits, added with the echoes of the hundreds of voices, were taking their toll, and he could feel a headache coming on. It figured...the museum had only been open for three days, yet already he was regretting taking the job.
Not that he minded the work; and he loved the exhibits. But the kids...he shook his head. They were nothing but trouble. No wonder he had a headache. The thought no sooner crossed his mind when a scream echoed through the hall. "Damn kids," he muttered, starting towards the Depression Era Criminals section of the museum. Probably a bunch of teenagers causing trouble. He was halfway there when more screams echoed the first, and his anger quickly dissolved into panic. This wasn't just teens being annoying, something was terribly wrong. He took off at a run.
xxx
Special Agent Seeley Booth strode purposefully into the National Museum of Crime and Punishment, flashing his badge wordlessly at the cop stationed at the entrance. His crisp charcoal gray suit was immaculate; the only nod to the unseasonably warm May day was the open top button of his white dress shirt.
His partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan walked beside him, a sharp contrast to his professional appearance in her dark blue cargo shorts and plum colored tank top. She had been sitting out on her balcony with her laptop, enjoying the sun, when Booth had called with the news that they had a case. Her curiosity had been peaked, however, by his demeanor and the tone of his voice. He had sounded tense, and had just recited the address to her before hanging up without his usual banter. Add to that the fact that he was dressed for work, though it was a Sunday afternoon, and she came to the conclusion that something was up. All in all, his demeanor was intriguing, and she was curious to know the reason for it. But that would have to wait; she had a job to do.
Following Booth through the queue, in which linked handcuffs took the place of normal chains, they made their way up the stairs to the third floor of the museum. They weaved their way through corridors filled with pirates, stockades, and medieval torture devices, right into the Old West. Here, cops milled about, black and yellow crime scene tape cordoning off the scene.
Booth nodded to one of the men. "Roberts. What have we got?"
Detective Roberts was a big, beefy man; he was in his forties, but looked at least ten years older. There were lines around his tired brown eyes, and his hair was thinning. Brennan had a feeling that the violence and depravity of DC had taken their toll on him over the years. She followed as he led them to a car on display. Brennan noticed the sign said that it was the Death Car that had been used in the movie 'Bonnie and Clyde'.
"A girl found the body this afternoon; started screaming. The museum guard shooed everyone away, took one look and called us. And we called you."
Brennan raised her eyebrows. "Body? You mean it still has flesh?"
Roberts looked at her quizzically for a moment, then shrugged. "Kind of." Brennan looked at Booth questioningly, but he just shrugged and followed the cop as he turned and led them through the partition that separated the display from the passersby, around to the back of the car.
The body was lying at an odd angle, pushed halfway underneath the car, mostly hidden. It was fully clothed, but the face, hands, and part of the torso were unrecognizable. Bits of flesh clung to the bones, but were mostly melted away. Brennan pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of her bag and pulled them on, kneeling by the victim.
Roberts hovered over her. "I don't know how you're going to tell anything from that mess."
Booth glared at him menacingly, forcing Roberts to step back. "You don't know Bones."
Brennan sighed, but didn't comment. She had long ago given up trying to get Booth not to call her 'Bones'; it didn't work, and besides, she kind of liked it. Not that she would ever admit that to him. Shaking her head, she got back to work. "Female, Caucasian, late twenties." She examined the body for a few minutes, then stood and pulled off her gloves. "I'd say she's been here no more than 12 hours. Once I get her back to the lab, I can be more precise."
Booth was jotting her description down in his little notebook. He glanced up at her. "What happened to her?"
"Looks like some kind of acid was used on her. Hodgins can figure out the specifics."
"And that's what killed her?" This from Roberts, who was still standing there, though now a respectable distance away.
"I can't say."
Booth turned to Roberts. "I want to talk with the guard, and the girl who found her."
xxx
"I just wanna go home." Eighteen year old April Myers had had enough. It was bad enough that her boyfriend had forced her to come to this stupid museum, but now she was caught in a real live freak show. If she closed her eyes, she could still see that...thing. She shuddered, remembering. And now they were sitting in this tiny, airless room in the basement of the museum, and the damn FBI were looking at her like she had done something wrong. "I already told them what happened." She gestured condescendingly towards Roberts and his partner, who were standing across the room.
"Look, Miss Myers. This will go faster if you cooperate." Booth's voice was clipped; Brennan could tell that he was angry, but he was trying to control it. "Just tell me again what you saw, and then you can go."
The girl sighed. "Like I already said. We were standing there, looking at the car. The one that they used in that movie. And I thought I saw something behind it." Her eyes flickered uneasily to the museum guard, who had joined the two cops in the corner. "I..." She stopped, not sure if she should go on.
Booth leaned forward and gave her a smile. Brennan watched, almost feeling sorry for the girl. No woman was immune when Booth smiled like that, and she knew from experience that April didn't stand a chance. She was going to tell him whatever he wanted to know. "Nobody's worried about any rules you may have broken, April. I've got a dead body here, that's the important thing. I just need to know what happened."
April took a defensive stance, but she answered, as Brennan knew she would. "I hopped over the wall, all right? I just wanted to see what was there. I know it was wrong, but..." She shrugged. "I saw, and I started screaming."
Brennan had a feeling it would be a long time, if ever, before April got that curious again. She couldn't blame her; in her line of work, she'd seen worse, but the body was bad enough. Especially for a teenage girl.
"Can I go now?"
Booth nodded. "Just make sure detective Roberts has your information, in case we need to contact you later."
Brennan watched, slightly amused, as April scrambled out of the room, then turned to Booth. He looked tired; she could see faint circles around his eyes, as if he hadn't gotten much sleep in the past few days. She watched as he rubbed a hand over his eyes, then settled in to talk to the guard. "Mr..."
"Carter. Jackson Carter, sir." He tapped his fingers on the table nervously. "I just can't believe this happened..."
Booth interrupted him; again, Brennan sensed his annoyance, but she wasn't sure if it was at the situation, the guard, or something else entirely. "Just tell me what happened."
"Well, it was just like the girl said. She screamed, and I came running." He puffed his chest out proudly. "Then I got everyone away, and I called the police."
"No one touched anything?"
"Nothing. Not until the police came." His story over, he started fidgeting nervously once more. "Can I go now?"
Booth appeared not to have heard the question. "How is it that the body wasn't discovered before this? Dr. Brennan says it's been there for at least twelve hours."
"Well, I..." Carter appeared flustered. "We do a walk through before we open, make sure everything's working, you know, the lights, and the interactive exhibits and things. But...well, we don't make a habit of going into the exhibits. I mean...why would we?"
"Why indeed," Booth muttered. "So you saw nothing out of the ordinary today?"
"No. Not until the girl screamed." Brennan knew Carter wanted to ask again if he could leave, but didn't quite dare.
"One last question. Did you recognize her?"
"Her? I could barely recognize it as human! How could I know who it is?"
If Booth had an answer to this, he didn't give it. Instead, he stood quickly. "Fine. You can go now."
Brennan watched as he ran a hand through his short brown hair, then stood and started out. He was exasperated and edgy, and she wanted to know why.
"Booth." Brennan hurried to catch up with him. "Are you coming to the lab?"
Booth yanked at the knot in his tie, finally succeeding in pulling it open. "I have something to take care of first, then I'll be there." He turned from her and headed to his car, but she lay a hand on his arm, stopping him.
"Booth, are you okay?"
He looked at her for a moment, and she thought he was about to tell her what was on his mind, but in the end, he just shook his head. "I'm fine Bones," he said, before opening the door and sliding behind the wheel. "I'll see you later."
Brennan watched as he drove away, a frown on her face. He was lying; she saw it in his eyes. There was something wrong, and he was keeping it from her. Sighing, she made her way to her car. No use worrying about it now, though; she had a job to do.
