A/N: My original intention had been to not publish any of this story until I had it entirely finished. I find, however, that not having a deadline-even a self imposed one-means my muse likes to take long naps. So, here is the prologue. It's deathly short, but the remaining chapters will not be quite so bad. On another note, I'd like to send my utmost thanks to my beta reader, who corrected all my he/she/it saids and awful comma usage. Much much obliged! Anyway, enjoy, and remember reveiws make me push up my deadline :-p
Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, nor any other copyright or tradmarked item herein. They belong to their respective owners, and shall remain so until such time as said owners decide to sell them. I'm just borrowing them. I promise to put them back where I found them.
The door slammed against the cabin wall. Eight men, unnaturally quiet, stormed into the sparsely furnished room. They separated into pairs, searching, and then the silence was broken with a chorus of "clear" echoing throughout the cabin.
The last pair of men moved quietly down the hallway, toward the second bedroom. Bright sunlight filtered through the dusty windows, the sun not yet to its zenith, but already the temperature inside was pushing ninety. An officer pushed open the door, crouched low as he moved into the room, weapon sweeping. He could hear the rest of his team and the FBI entering the house. They hadn't waited for his call. His partner rolled his eyes at him.
Not his problem if the perp was in this back room and bolted out of a window because of the noise. Of course, he'd have already bolted, but they could have at least had the decency to wait another thirty seconds.
His eyes swept the room, falling on them immediately, laying prone in a mess of sheets on the bed. The sun was directed like through a magnifying glass onto them. His first instinct had been to run to them, but training took over.
"I found someone!" he yelled, moving toward the bed.
They were bound, naked, and unconscious. Her hands were tucked under her chin, ropes tight around her elbows and wrists. His arms were around her, bound together over her stomach. Their legs were curled up together, as if they were simply asleep and spooning, but the rope tying them together had already left red bands where it rubbed against the skin of their shins.
He pulled out the paper with the picture of the people they were looking for, while his partner checked their vitals. He could see them breathing, shallow, the man's breath coming slightly unevenly. As his partner took the man's pulse, and the paramedics stormed into the room, the man opened his eyes. They rolled up into his head, and he closed them again.
He looked down at the paper, the poor quality fax still clear enough to confirm. These were who they had been looking for. The Jar of Hearts killer's latest victims.
The paramedics didn't look optimistic as they moved the couple onto stretchers. He leaned against he wall, knowing that had they been here as long as suspected they should be dead already, and only luck still had them breathing.
He followed the paramedics through the house, joining the rest of his team in the front room. The forensics guys were already starting on the other end of the house, the whole thing seeming to be over before it began.
As the paramedics rolled the man out of the house on his stretcher he heard him whisper,
"Bones."