So before we get started on this fairly lengthy piece of fanfiction, I'll give the timeline. We are set after Witch from season two but before Judas, meaning we have Zack, Hodgins/Angela, and no psychologists/Sully/additional Keenan baggage. This is a case fic with very little romantic "fluff" except between Angela and Hodgins. None between Brennan and Booth, so this may not be particularly attractive to some readers. BUT I have tried to keep the show's canon intact and do the characters justice, so if you liked Bones around this time in the second season, this should suit you.
And yes, I know that I promised an Altered Realities sequel, and that is on the way. This was just planned first so it demanded my attention first. The sequel will be next after this.
So, let's get started, shall we?
Welcome to The Woman in the Woods, and please enjoy the ride. Remember to keep all appendages inside the vehicle. And please, if you read, leave a review. Just a short word to let me know you're there. Thank you.
:)
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Chapter One
Storm clouds trooped through the pale blue sky, foretelling rain and possible flooding. Leaves that had long since fallen from their perch atop nearby trees had settled on the ground, underbrush, and those hapless few who had been standing around for an extended period of time without moving. Occasionally a gust of wind would come through and send a whirl of brown leaves into the air, generally causing their numbers to increase as the trees continued to give up their burdens.
The workers at the scene stood around in a casual manner. None cared about the dead plant life in their hair or the feel of precipitation in the atmosphere. Most carried a coffee cup or some kind of easily obtained breakfast item. Radio chatter softly oozed from a few of the men, and murmured conversation was held in various parts of the small clearing.
Heads turned as two new figures approached the quiet scene, one carrying a Styrofoam coffee cup while the other pulled her hair into a pony tail. Neither looked anymore awake then the rest of the crowd, but their presence stirred the first hint of movement since dawn.
"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan?" an African American man said, stepping toward the partners, one hand still holding the remains of a bagel.
Dr. Temperance Brennan said nothing, her fingers deftly maneuvering into a pair of latex gloves as the hair that had escaped the tie flowed off her shoulders.
Special Agent Seeley Booth did not comment on her silence, instead regarding the officer before him, "You're Paul Stevenson?"
"Yes," he replied and the men shook hands.
"Seeley Booth. This here is Temperance Brennan."
Brennan glanced up at the use of her name. "Hello," she said reflexively.
A hand was offered to her and she shook it, receiving a firm but not constricting squeeze.
"So what's the context of the find?" Booth asked, his hand slipping into his suit pocket to extract a small notebook and pen.
The three began slowly walking in the direction of a roped off area near the border of the clearing.
"5:08 a.m., two kids are running around the forest playing Star Wars with a couple of sticks. One of them spots something poking out of the dirt, bends to pull it out, and realizes that he is staring at a skull."
"Human?" Brennan asked.
"Yes." He nodded in affirmation.
"What were they doing all the way out here that early in the morning?" Booth asked.
Stevenson shrugged, "They're not too keen on revealing that particular piece of information. Their parents are definitely not going to be pleased."
"Oh, yeah," the agent said in an understanding tone.
"They didn't disturb anything did they?" Brennan asked, the prospect stirring slight apprehension in her gut.
"No," Stevenson said in a way that suggested the very idea was preposterous, "They hightailed it out of there as soon as they saw it. Called it in on a nearby pay phone."
"That was responsible of them."
He nodded. "Wish my kids would do something like that."
"What? Call in a skeleton?"
"No, Bones," Booth intervened as the officer was now staring at her with bemusement and surprise. "Act responsibly."
"Well, how responsible could they be if they were running around a forest before dawn?"
He sighed, "I don't know, Bones." He turned back to Stevenson before she could reply, "Where are they now?"
He jabbed a thumb behind him, "In a squad car waiting for Mommy and Daddy to arrive."
Brennan was the first to step under the tape which secured the part of the scene presumably holding the body. "None of your men disturbed anything?"
"No. Everything is as it was when the kids found it."
Brennan nodded, "Good."
"Anything more we can do for you, ma'am?"
She started to walk down the slope of the hill in front of her, "I won't know until I see what's here. But tell CSU to be on stand-by."
He nodded and walked away, probably content that the scene was no longer in his hands.
The ground was moist and fairly spongy, resisting her very little as she settled into a crouch beside shrubs and a few rocks. Before her a large pine tree stretched to the sky, its sweet and heady scent tangoing with the early morning air. At the feet of the massive plant, seemingly framed by its roots, something white poked from the ground. Shifting her weight, Brennan realized she was gazing at a piece of the zygomatic. As her eyes crawled up she recognized empty orbits and the delicate curve of the nasal bones.
"Is it human?" a voice from miles away asked.
She nodded distractedly, her fingers tracing the piece of the cheekbone that was exposed.
"I'll leave you to it then, Bones. I'd like to talk to the boys before they're picked up."
Another nod and the leaves to her right crunched as he walked away.
Brennan shifted again and reached into her pack, pulling out a brush and a small trowel. The remains were very close to the surface, so it was unlikely that she would need to do any serious digging. CSU would have to do a sweep when she was done, but that was a long way off.
She started to work, brushing dirt, plants, and dead leaves away to reveal the earth's prize. It was a slow and careful process, only revealing millimeters of new bone and soil at a time. The muscles in her back tightened up, and every once in a while she would have to get up and stretch, only to return to the bones moments later, part of her having already bonded with the skeleton at her feet.
They were white in some places, but tea brown in others. Tough pieces of connective tissue still held the hands to their wrists, which in turn had held with the bones of the lower arm, having all been buried deeper in the ground. Most of the rest of the skeleton had long since separated, for those bones had not been so lucky. When she had finally revealed the skeleton, she rocked back on her heels and stared at her find.
The skull was turned to its side, jaw hanging open, the occipital still partially buried. Running down the length of the spine were vertebrae, all seeming to be present. From the pelvis jutted two femurs, both still nestled in their connective tissue at both the hip and knee. The feet had rotted more than this, and she could see the talus and calcaneous, the bones of the ankle and heel, poking out of the dirt beyond the shin.
Scattered around the bones like old bombshells were dead insects and puparial casings. They were also on the top soil around the area, some caught near the roots of the tree which kept her sheltered from the wind.
Gingerly, she reached forward and lightly touched the connective tissue on the wrist. It was spongy, though not quite as much as the surrounding soil. She looked at the staining and the lack of damage and formulated thoughts. Given the fact that there were almost no missing bones, it was more than safe to assume the body had not been moved from another burial site. But the lack of damage bothered her. Had a body been rotting here, it surely would've attracted the local wildlife, not just the insects.
However, had this place been regularly flooded, it may have washed away the top soil enough times to eventually expose the skeleton had it been buried deeper at another time.
Her knees popped as she rose and looked around. She was on the downward slope of a hill, and her ears picked up the sound of flowing water. Walking to the left of the pine, she realized that the source was a stream nestled between conifers, maples, and more pine trees, as well as various shrubbery and brush.
The theory of flooding was a long-shot considering the fact that casings and most of the bones were still present, but soil samples and weather reports for the past few years would probably give her an answer.
Shrugging her shoulders once to relieve some of the tension stored there, she returned to the skeleton and bent near the skull, her fingers delicately teasing it up and out of the ground. When it was free, she leaned back and was met with a wall of pine bark. Bracing against it, she held the skull to eye-level.
It was stained brown from many months spent in the ground, and the orbits were still caked with dirt. She brushed them out, her desire to perform a precursory examination eclipsing thoughts of time and place.
Supporting the jaw with one hand while the other held the occipital, Brennan once again returned her attention to the skull as a whole and began distinguishing traits.
The cheekbones rose high and gracefully, having once supported a strong masseter muscle, suggesting Caucasian descent. The high and elongated nasal arch seemed to confirm. Her eyes picked out the delicate muscle markings and modest build of the bones in general. Glancing at the pelvis, she noted its size and relative shape.
Setting the skull back in its original resting place, Brennan once again settled against the roots of the tree, closing her eyes. Inhaling, she smelled rain and earth, as well as leaves and sap. Her five a.m. wake up call was starting to catch up to her, and despite how damp everything around her was, it almost felt like a good place to take a nap. Glancing at her clock with one half-open eye, she started. 1:38 in the afternoon. Seven hours had flown by in a space of time that had only seemed to last a few minutes.
Her knees protested as she forced herself to her feet again, indulging in a long stretch which extended her spine and lengthened her fingers. Feeling slightly more relaxed, she turned and was startled to realize that her partner was dozing against a nearby tree trunk.
He had abandoned his suit in favor of a coat with FBI stenciled across the arms and back. It was draped over him like a blanket, and one hand had slipped down to brush the dirt, a pen and notepad on the ground beside it. His breath rhythmically burst out in a stream of white, dispelling into the surrounding air.
Brennan briefly considered waking him, but decided against it. She needed to get the skeleton zipped up and prepare for a final sweep with the CSU team before his presence would be demanded—if nothing else then for a late lunch. Until then he could rest.
Besides, she didn't have the heart to break his peaceful expression until it was necessary.
Sighing, she trudged up the hill and back into the clearing. Stevenson met her as she was heading toward the CSU unit.
"Do you need anything, Dr. Brennan?"
"Yeah." She nodded, directing her needs at one of the techs, "A body bag, some smaller transport bags, evidence bags, jars, forceps, et cetera. We're also going to need to sweep the area, so bring the GPR, sifts..." she exhaled, "All of those things."
They nodded as one and set to work, pulling things out of the only car that had braved the forest and its treacherous path. Brennan joined them, making sure that everything that they would need was present and accounted for.
Satisfied, she headed back down the hill to the skeleton that waited there, setting the techs to work. She would handle the main recovery, while they would sweep. A glance at the sky sent a twinge of apprehension through her heart. Rain was heavy in the air, and she was afraid that the evidence would wash away with the water. If that was the case, then a GPR sweep would be useless, and recovery would turn into a race against the clock.
Her fears were realized twenty minutes later as the first drops of rain began to fall. Only moments later they were more violent and coming much faster.
She barked at the techs to abandon the sweep and help recover the bones and insect casings. Thankfully, soil samples were taken care of, giving them once less thing to worry about.
The sky dimmed as the rainclouds completely took over it, and a few members of the little team were forced to run to the car and grab fluorescent lighting. Temporarily halted, Brennan took the opportunity to wolf down the sandwich that Booth had retrieved for her at some earlier point in time. He had been inextricably awoken by the arrival of the CSU, and instead of shifting to a slightly more tranquil place, he had disappeared—coming back with edibles of both the solid and liquid kind.
When the lights arrived and were set up, work resumed, and within only a few hours every bone and puparial casing that had been found was bagged and waiting in the large van.
Sighing, Brennan settled against the truck. She was coated in mud and dirt, and smelled of the same things she had been working in for the past several hours—earth, trees, and mud. Her hair was soaked, as were her clothes, but none of it mattered. The skeleton was safe.
She jumped at sudden pressure on her shoulders, and realized that it was Booth, who was just as wet as she was.
"Hey, Bones, what do you say we head out of here?" he asked, "I mean, in case you hadn't noticed, it's pouring out here."
"Yeah. I surmised that," she replied, attempting a joke.
"How very astute," he mocked, gently pushing her off the van.
She walked beside him, and together they headed back into the narrow band of forest on the opposite end of the woods that had once held the skeleton, for there was no other way to reach the SUV and its padded seats, seat warmers, and centralized heating.
"So, what did you find?" Booth asked as they stumbled over roots and vegetation. It was the first time they had been alone together since early that morning.
She briefly recounted what had been recovered.
"Any thoughts?"
Brennan weighed what to reveal and what to hold back for more information on, "Preliminary analysis suggests that the skeleton is a female of Caucasoid descent." She settled on that.
"Age?"
She wrinkled her nose, "I'm not sure about that yet."
"But you have a suspicion?"
"Yes," she admitted hesitantly, hating to make conclusions without sufficient examination.
"Well, let's hear it, Bones."
"Mid to late thirties."
"Anything else?"
They reached the end of the line of trees, and before them stood the black SUV in all of its glory. Never had it looked more inviting then at that moment.
"Nothing I'm comfortable saying," Brennan said as Booth walked around back and popped the trunk.
"Then how about something you're not comfortable saying?" he asked as she opened the car door.
"By definition, I—"
Booth cut her off, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, "I know, Bones. I was just messing with you." He hopped in his own side of the car and started the engine, smiling at her.
She glared at him, but a small grin pulled at the corners of her mouth, ruining the effect.
"Ugh," her partner groaned, looking at the clock on the dash, "You know it's almost six, Bones?"
"Really?" she said with a start, looking at her own clock, "Already?"
"And, you know, we only had those crappy sandwiches, too. Man, I am suddenly starving." He backed the car out of its makeshift space and pulled onto the main road.
"How far are we from DC again?" Brennan asked, unable to recall the detail from the ride over.
"About forty-five minutes."
"How far from the Diner?"
"The same."
"Should we change?" She looked down at her muddy scrubs, "I mean, I can slip out of these, but I know the clothing underneath hasn't faired any better."
"I'm too hungry for that."
"We could have Sid deliver."
He glanced at her, "That's a good idea."
"My apartment is closest, though I should probably stop by the lab first since the skeleton will be coming in shortly." She said it without much heart.
"Oh, no, Bones. You've worked enough for today."
"Well, I have a change of clothes over there, and—"
"Bones, you have clothes at home, as well as your car and bed. Just for once, take the afternoon off."
"You think I should?" she asked, leaning back against her seat, sleep starting to weigh on her eyelids.
"Definitely."
"Okay," she muttered, closing her eyes and relieving the pressure.
"Okay?" he repeated.
"Yes. Okay." She yawned.
"You agreed with me?" He sounded awe-struck.
"Yes, Booth," she turned over a little and wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, suddenly realizing how tired she really was, "I agree."
"I'm touched, Bones."
The reply bubbled to her lips before she could stop herself, "You're touched in the head."
He chuckled, "That's funny, Bones."
"You think?" she thought she asked, her voice sounding far away.
She never heard his wry reply.
--
"Bones?" It came from miles away, "Bones?" Pressure on her shoulder, "Bones? Bones? Are you even listening to me? Bones?" Tapping by her left ear, "Heeelllllooo? Bones?"
Brennan opened an eye, "What? Booth?" Her eyes focused on her partner, "Where are we?"
He gestured to his left, "Your apartment."
"We are? When did that happen?"
"A few minutes ago."
She rubbed her eyes, "I must have fallen asleep."
"Yeah. You did."
She inhaled and smelled something, "Wait, is that chinese, Booth?"
"Yeah. I stopped by Sid's and picked up some food."
"Well, then let's go up and eat it."
"Sounds good, Bones."
She opened the door and hopped out, dragging her bag with her. Booth trailed behind as she entered the apartment complex and headed up the stairs automatically, not thinking about her path. She went through the rest of her motions on auto-pilot as well: open the door, plop down the bag, kick off the shoes, and head to the bedroom.
Booth stopped her as she went to perform the last of her usual routine, "Uh, Bones, where are you going?"
She paused and realized that she had already half-unbuttoned her shirt, "I'm just going to change. Get the scrubs off."
"Want me to set out plates or anything?"
"No. Just pull out some glasses and whatever you want to drink."
"Do you want anything?"
"No. I'm fine, thanks."
"Alright, Bones."
She smiled at him before retreating to her bedroom, shutting the door and changing in record time. Although she had been in worse states, it didn't suit her to be wet and muddy—especially in her own apartment. Running a brush through her hair, she quickly yanked it into a pony tail before rejoining her partner on her couch.
"Would you like a towel or something? A blanket?"
Booth looked at her, "No. I'm okay."
"Are you sure? I have some in the back."
"I'll be fine." He opened the top of a small white container and handed it to her, "Chow mein."
"Thanks," she said, reaching forward to grab a pair of chopsticks.
"Welcome, Bones."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, neither wanting to speak. But eventually Booth broke it, "So I hear you are going to Chaos on Friday."
Brennan looked up at him, the chopsticks frozen in her mouth, "What?"
He smiled, "Angela told me."
"She did?"
"Yeah. I think it's good you're getting out. Meeting new people."
"But does it really count if she's forcing me to go?"
"Gotta start somewhere, Bones."
"You think?"
"For sure," his eyes met her own for the briefest of moments before flicking back down to his food.
It was always difficult to come up with conversation without work as the basic foil, and therefore Brennan grasped for one final straw of conversation before calling it quits, "How's it going with Cam?"
Booth blushed slightly, "Uh, good, Bones. We're doing good."
"I'm glad, Booth. It's just you guys don't talk about it much and it would seem to suggest that—"
"We're discreet, okay? You know, everything's doing fine."
"Okay. Just wanted to check in."
"Check in?" he repeated.
"Well, we're very work-oriented, and I was trying to expand the focus."
"That's okay, Bones. Our relationship is fine."
Having eaten her fill, Brennan removed the chopsticks from the container, and set them carefully on the table. "Good," she said awkwardly.
Booth inhaled, set down his own chopsticks, then changed the subject, "Is there anything else about the victim you are comfortable saying?"
She considered again what to reveal and what to keep hidden in its ambiguity, "She's been there for a while. At least a year, maybe more."
"Did you see anything for cause of death?"
She shook her head, choosing to keep silent about her observations.
Booth nodded, as if expecting the answer, then pointed a finger at the cartons left over, "Do you want these our should I take them?"
Brennan thought one more time about the woman in the woods and knew this would be a case that would keep her out of her apartment from early in the morning until late at night, giving her little time to eat, "I'll take it." If she didn't have the energy to cook later in the week, she'd survive off the leftovers.
"Okay, Bones." He grinned at her and rose, "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Of course."
"Who's turn was it to bring the doughnuts?"
"Hodgins'."
"Right, right," he said, opening the door to her apartment, "Good night, Bones."
"Good night, Booth."
With a click, he was gone.
Sighing, Brennan leaned back into her couch and listened to rain pelt against her window panes. She could hear the water rushing over the streets below and imagined that most sensible people had not gone out at all today. Sometimes she wished she was one of those sensible persons, but alas her job did not allow for that kind of frivolity. Maybe it was good she was being dragged out by one Angela Montenegro in a few days' time.
Grimacing at what possible reaction the artist could have to that thought, Brennan got up and cleared the table, sticking the boxes in the fridge and washing the chopsticks for later use. Storing them, she poured herself a single glass of wine, changed into her soft terrycloth robe, and tucked herself onto a chair near an open window, savoring the hush that rain always brought.
Tomorrow would be a long day, but tonight the world could slow down—albeit for just a little while.
--
The next day found Brennan in the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal lab transferring bones from their protective body bag onto a light table. She was in the bone suite, a light box to her left, and tables on either side of her tall frame, the early morning quiet having yet to be broken. Although a few other scientists were present, it was mostly security personnel that she saw float by the entrance to the room. The stillness was relaxing, and it was one of the reasons she loved the mornings and late nights so much.
Zack Addy also shared this love, for he had done a cursory examination of the skeleton and boiled the bones the night before, having received Brennan's instructions via the CSU techs. Young and eager to please, he spent most nights opposite her, bent over a light table. In that way they were alike, always working and always thinking.
Of course, it was this very same love that kept them locked away from the world.
Placing the last of the bones on the table, Brennan turned and began to slip x-rays into the light box, intent on learning any possible secrets from them first before looking at the bones or Zack's notes.
A study of the skull revealed nothing of note. Everything looked very average to her eyes. She took the radiographic images down and reached for the next stack.
"Hey, sweetie," a voice cut into her concentration.
"Hey, Ange," she said, not looking at Angela Montenegro as she snapped in another x-ray, creating a sound like distant thunder.
"Is this where you were yesterday? Cam said you had gotten a call or something and couldn't come in."
"Yes." Brennan turned, leaning against an empty section of the table which held the skeleton, and briefly outlined the day's events.
"Sounds pleasant," the artist remarked dryly.
She didn't respond, her attention once again riveted to the x-rays.
"So do you want me to do a facial reconstruction now, or should I wait?"
"Did Zack find anything on the skull?"
"Umm..." Angela's voice trailed off as she brushed by the anthropologist and reached for a file, "No," she said after a moment, "Nothing but some slight water damage."
She nodded, "Then it should be alright."
"I'll see you later, sweetie."
Another nod and the artist clicked out, taking the skull with her.
Turning her attention back to the x-rays, Brennan stared at the anterior shot of the cervical vertebrae. What held her attention was C4, which had been transected through the body. It was one clean cut, and she did not see any radiating fractures or reaction.
Resisting the urge to abandon the x-rays in favor of the skeleton, she filed away the observation and continued onward, running into nothing until she hit the stills of the right arm and shoulder.
Although fuzzy, the radiographic images of the scapula seemed amiss to her. She stared hard at the glenoid process—the point where the humerus, or upper arm, met the shoulder—but could not place her subconscious itch. Making another mental note, Brennan moved on and immediately hit more abnormalities, though these were much clearer.
The lower end of the humerus and its articulation with the radius and ulna were all wrong. Although she saw no comminuted or complete transections, radiating fractures snaked outward from all the three bones at the site of the elbow, suggesting there was at least a partial dislocation.
Feeling a slight sense of trepidation, she shifted to the slides of the wrist end of the radius and ulna. Although the latter did not display anything unusual, the radius had a long split running up the styloid process, as well as marginal fracturing along the point where it would normally have met the wrist. Her eyes slid down to the scaphoid and trapezium and found that they were not in proper alignment. Normally she would've expected this from a body that was so decomposed, but in this case she wasn't so sure that this was normal.
Finally abandoning the x-rays, Brennan turned to the skeleton and reached for the scapula. As she had suspected, the glenoid had been fractured—presumably by taking a direct hit from the humerus.
Setting down the bone, Brennan leaned back onto the table behind her and stared into space for a long time, knowing but not really wanting to consider what she had found. She was afraid of what the C4 vertebra would tell her, unwilling to allow that sort of imagery into her mind.
But her partner, in his typical fashion, broke her reverie.
"Hey, Bones."
She looked over at him mournfully, but said nothing.
"What's wrong?" he set down the small paper sack he was carrying on a nearby counter and walked toward her, "You feeling okay, Bones?"
"We've got to catch whoever did this, Booth."
"What?" Obviously her segue had caught him off-guard.
"The victim—her arm was twisted behind her back so violently that it dislocated her wrist, elbow, and shoulder from their proper alignments. Presumably, he must have slit her throat at the same time."
"We'll catch him," Booth said after a moment.
"You don't know that," she looked down, staring at the dead woman on her table.
"Yes I do, Bones," he turned up her chin, "If there's anything I know right now, it's that."
"You're sure?"
"One hundred percent, Temperance. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise."