Disclaimer: I don't own any Bones except the ones in my body.
A/N: This is a silly little piece that leaped into my head and refused to leave.
A Happy Valentine's Day to those of you who celebrate it. And to the rest of you, a very happy (early) Half-Price Chocolate Day!
"Puh-lease. She's been sleeping alone for months. She has enough pent up sexual energy to power a small mid-western city." – Angela Montenegro, 1x02: "The Man in the SUV."
May 12, 2012
UST Energies, Ltd.
Observer Joe Johnson liked his job. It was a cushy position, really. All he had to do was some surveillance and alert the higher ups if a Situation appeared to be in the offing; for this, he received a decent wage and excellent health benefits. Yes, life was good.
Stretching, he turned his attention to one of the many screens in his office. An attractive, dark haired man and woman were bickering noisily over who got to drive the FBI SUV to their latest crime scene. On another screen, a different, equally attractive dark-haired pair was arguing over whether the woman would allow the man to drive the NYPD vehicle back to the precinct. The next screen displayed a sandy-haired man informing his female Middle Eastern counterpart that, as he valued his life, he would be driving the NCIS van. Screen after screen showed couple after couple, all of whom were good-naturedly arguing.
Johnson thanked God for the millionth time that the screens had subtitles. If he'd had to listen to hundreds of bickering couples day after day, he probably would have lost his hearing by now. It was fun observing the chemistry and banter between all of these good-looking folks, but there were limits.
Despite having had a good night shift, he was pleased when Observer Bradley Barrett arrived to relieve him.
"Anything unusual?" Barrett asked, plumping himself down onto the chair beside him.
"Nada," Johnson replied, getting to his feet, walking past the short row of Observers in the Surveillance Room.
At the cafeteria, he bumped into Agent Helena Burnley.
"Hey, how are you doing?" he asked the slim, blonde-haired agent.
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," she muttered, shoulders slumped.
"You lasted there longer than anyone other than Agent Saroy," he told her comfortingly. "And Saroy's only still there 'cause she turned traitor."
"I know, I know," Burnley said. "But I was only there six months!"
"Which is five more than Sullinger," Johnson pointed out, "And until you came along, he held the record."
"So I exceeded expectations blah blah blah," Burnley said, rolling her eyes expressively. "I just don't understand why HQ ordered me to pull out. I thought I had a real foothold there, you know? I mean, the guy asked me to marry him."
With a shrug, Johnson said, "I'm sure they had their reasons. You did your best, and that's what counts. Besides, if the Situation becomes critical again, we'll probably end up sending you back in."
"You're right, of course you're right," Burnley conceded. "And I shouldn't still be moping… it's been three months, for crying out loud! I just… I hate leaving a job half done."
Johnson arranged his face into what he hoped was a sympathetic expression and patted her on the shoulder.
"What you need is some food," he told her briskly. "A little food in your stomach will make all the difference in the world."
"Oh God, you just got off shift, didn't you?" Burnley said in sudden remorse. "You have to be starving."
The two got into line at the sandwich stand when suddenly the power went out. All of it.
"Shit," Johnson said. "Shit, shit, shit."
"What happened?" Burnley asked worriedly.
"It," Johnson told her grimly.
"But… how?" Burnley asked. "We have round-the-clock surveillance on all of them. There's no way…"
"Someone must not have seen something. There are so many screens, it would be easy for a mistake to happen. If I've told HQ once, I've told them twice; we need more Observers in the room at a time!"
"Don't suppose anyone has a flashlight?" a male voice behind them asked.
"Well it's not like anyone plans for these things," Burnley said defensively.
"Well they should have. It's been coming for ages, you know," the unknown man said. "I've been telling HQ for years that we need to invest in alternative energy solutions."
Johnson turned curiously to the man and asked, "Like what?"
"Well, there's always RST," the man said.
Burnley snorted. "Please. Don't tell me you believe that old wives' tale."
"Hey, it's a perfectly viable, practically untapped energy source. But nooo… the higher ups said that that would 'undermine the purpose of the company,'" the man groused, "Said it would 'imply to investors that we're insecure about the stability of UST' and 'cause the market to panic.' Load of shit, if you ask me. They just don't want to innovate; they want to coast along on the same tried-and-true formula until they retire. Idiots."
Johnson got the feeling that the other man had wanted to get this off his chest for a while.
"There's a reason no one uses RST," Burnley told the man patiently. "Remember the Moonlighting Experiment?"
Johnson shuddered. It had been a disaster.
"RST wasn't the issue," the man insisted. "There were other factors at work that made the experiment go wrong."
"Then how do you explain the fact that –" Burnley began hotly, only to break off as the lights came back on.
"Back-up generator," the man – whom Johnson could now see was short and balding – commented knowledgably. "They've probably pulled out one of the cancelled ones. From the quality of the light right now, I'd guess they're using some Mal/Inara UST."
"Are you in the engineering department, then?" Johnson asked.
The man nodded. "Yep. Not that it does much good when the idiots in charge refuse to listen to any of our suggestions for improvement."
"Any idea which couple blew the fuse this time?" Burnley asked.
The man paused consideringly, then said, "Probably Booth and Brennan. They've been in supercritical state for a while now."
Burnley let out a low groan.
"Great," she muttered, "Just great."
"Burnley was assigned to them a few months back," Johnson explained.
The engineer winced. "Tough luck," he said sympathetically.
"God, what do you want to bet HQ blames the whole thing on me?" Burnley groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Never mind that they told me to pull out, it'll all be my fault."
"At least you're not the poor bastard in Observation who let them slip through the cracks," Johnson pointed out.
Burnley nodded but didn't look much comforted.
Johnson knew she'd been pulling for a promotion recently. Which, after this fiasco, probably wouldn't be coming her way any time soon.
"I'd better talk to my handler ASAP," Burnley said with a sigh. "So much for a meal."
"Best of luck, Burnley," Johnson told her with a pat to her back. "We're all rooting for you."
"Thanks," she said with a wan smile, then exited the line and strode briskly in the direction of the HUMINT division.
"So," Johnson said, turning to the engineer behind him, "Tell me more about this RST thing…"