A/N: I don't own anything….ANYTHING!!! Not Bones (sadly) or any of the characters…. However, I do own the plot… well most of it… and my OCs. I will not be very happy if you steal… Also this takes place in a sort of alternate universe. Why? Because I'm lazy… I really don't feel like researching or anything to make the forensics accurate, or the psychology accurate, or the FBI proceedings… and, the prologue takes place right after season 3, while the rest of the story happens during 5, the current season.
I accepted my punishment with grace. It really was the best I could do, killing someone. A lifetime sentence to the mental hospital. Or at least until a psychiatrist could prove me sane. That first night was the hardest, all alone in the imposing room, but I didn't complain.
Pacing the room didn't do anything for me, so I slipped into bed and fell asleep.
I was at a grassy hill, dotted with flowers. The breeze it was familiar and timeless but I recognized it from somewhere. That was the feel of the whole dream, fuzzy recognition, and it was on my mind but I couldn't figure out where it was from. A little girl, about five or six, came up and grabbed my hand pulling me up the hill. Her gingham dress rustled where it rubbed against my pants. For some reason I couldn't move and she ran up ahead. She was familiar too, with slightly wavy brown hair and eyes.
"Come on Zackarias, come on!" she called. I looked into her brown, wavy hair that reached to her waist, and warm chocolate eyes and I wanted to follow, but I couldn't. I longed to chase her up the hill and relish in the joy of childhood. Suddenly another person came running up behind me. He was a younger version of myself, the five year old me. They looked strikingly similar, same height, hair color.
The little girl was already at the crest of the hill and ran down singing, "You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away." And for some reason I cried, knowing that I would never see that girl again.
She sat on the couch in front of the TV, eating cake and ice cream alone for her birthday. A knock was heard on the door, and she padded over. The hall way was empty, typical for 10:00 at night, except for the briefest flash of a stranger in green. Confused, she walked back into her apartment and settled down to watch the movie.
Just as the hero was about to kiss his girl, a stern newscaster interrupted the picture. "The FBI, in partnership with the Jeffersonian team has killed the current serial killer on the loose. This man has been murdering and eating members of secret societies, based on a twisted logic that has been passed from master to apprentice for hundreds of years. The FBI has been looking for this man for the past year, during which he killed at least three men. Sadly the Jeffersonian team received a shocking betrayal, as Dr. Zackary Addy was the mysterious apprentice who actually killed the man."
The TV went back to the movie, but the young woman couldn't watch. Her brown, wavy hair was mussed around her face as she clicked off the screen, and stared in astonishment. The full extent of the newscaster's words hit her with a shudder. He had killed, taken away a life like he used to take her cookies. The boy she had known wouldn't do that, and she started to cry. Fat droplets fell like diamonds off her face and onto the floor.
She turned, laying down on the sofa, and pushing her face into a pillow. Sobs wracked her body, shuddering through her chest as tears struggled to escape her eyes. Her last thoughts before she fell into a fitful sleep were, "What have you done Zackarias? What have you done?"