Unraveling
I decided to set it after Girl in the Mask. Same disclaimer, of course!
"I lost," Brennan said sadly. Angela worried at her own lip at the look on her friend's face. Something was missing there, some spark was gone.
"I'm going home," she added with a sigh.
"Are you sure you're all right, Bren?" Now Angela was really worried--Brennan had gone home early maybe ten times in the decade-plus she had worked at the Jeffersonian. And even then, she was never the first one out the door without having an appointment or class.
"I'm fine, Ange. Just…tired, you know?" She gathered up her things. "I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"
"All right, sweetie."
By Angela's watch, she hadn't even been gone a quarter hour when Booth came striding in. "Angela, you seen Bones?"
"You just missed her, Booth," Angela informed him. "She's gone for the night."
"Gone?" He checked his watch. "It's barely five. There wasn't anything on her schedule. Why'd she leave?"
"That's what I want to know." She looked at him hard, hands on her hips. "You did something, G-man; you must have. Her mood took a definite down-turn after she got back from lunch. And she's never locked her door, either."
"Nothing. I don't think so, anyway." His bewilderment was plain. Her curiosity built; she definitely needed to talk with Bren--and soon. This was major. She would say break-up major, except they weren't (sadly) an actual couple.
"There a case?" she asked, nodding at the file he held.
"What? Yeah. A skeleton was found on a developer's site. Hang on." He flipped open his phone and called Brennan. "She's not picking up."
"She's driving, Booth. Text her."
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Brennan sighed. She didn't want to talk to Booth--she wanted a bath and her bed, and maybe a little wine. Some peace in which to think--and the heavy, comforting, private weight of the dark to do it in.
Her phone announced an arriving text. She glanced at it while at a red light. Booth. Of course. He can't leave her alone for one night? We have a case.
She growled annoyance, but pulled to the side of the road to respond. Where?
There was an obvious hesitation on his end--even Booth didn't take that long to text so simple a thing--but then the address popped up. Just outside the city, and in the direction she was already headed. I'll meet you there, she responded and disconnected before pulling back into traffic.
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"Well?" Angela demanded as Booth stared down at his phone.
"She'll meet me there," he said in a queer tone.
"Relax--she's probably closer to the scene than to the Jeffersonian. Better get going, though. And don't think," she called after him, "that we're done."
"Right. Tell Cam and Hodgins, would you?"
When he got to the scene, he indeed found her there, crouched at the edge of a very narrow trench, and plying a flashlight over the remains.
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As always, she knew the minute he took his usual place behind her, out of her light. Without any preliminaries, she began to tell off her findings. "Male. 30s. There are both Native-American and African-American racial indicators, indicating mixed race. No apparent sign of trauma nor cause of death. Bones are actually remarkably free of any previous trauma, in fact. Even the skull seems whole. I can't say more than that right now due to the width of the trench. There's a chance this might turn out to be an archeological site rather than a crime scene, even though I cannot properly determine the age of the bones at present and see no items that would normally be buried with a corpse: personal adornment, buttons, that sort of thing. But the body was buried supine with arms folded across the chest, and the head points east, as is typical in many cultures, such as American slaves, the practitioners of the Odinic rite, as well as being the traditional pose for Christian burial. I'll want to get some of our people from the Archeology Department out here tomorrow to assist."
"Now, wait a minute, Bones."
She pushed herself to her feet. "Archeology will be at least as careful as I and Mr. Nigel Murray would be. And if it turns out to be their site, then they have a proper start."
"Great. How long will that take?"
"Nobody will be able to be here before 8 or 9 in the morning." She hadn't taken her eyes off the bones, but now she looked up and scanned the observers. "Marcus? Could you cover the bones and secure the site, please?"
"We've got some plastic sheeting, Dr. Brennan, and I can arrange for a guard. Will you want us here in the morning as well?"
"Yes. It might still be a crime scene, after all."
"No problem, Dr. Brennan." Geier flicked a look at Booth, but neither man said anything.
She dusted herself off, still not looking at Booth, and pulled out her phone. "Cam--it's Dr. Brennan. No, not tonight. Might be archeological--can you call Dr. Wysman and have him assemble a small team here? Eight would be best, but no later than nine. And tell Mr. Nigel Murray he needs to be here as well. Yes, full…camera and all." She walked away from the remains as she spoke, Booth following. "All right…thanks. Yes, see you tomorrow."
She leaned against her car with a sigh. "Go away, Booth. Question your witnesses and leave me alone."
"Bones. What's wrong? What did I do?" His genuine incomprehension nearly did her in.
"Nothing. It's not important. Cam's leaving a message with the head of Archeology. We should be digging no later than nine, so the construction site is closed as of now."
"Bones--"
"And since there isn't any more for me to do at present, I'm going home."
"Bones--"
"Booth. I'm tired. I just want to go home." Now she looked at him. "It's been a long week, and it's not over yet."
He studied her in that penetrating way he had--the one that made her wonder how he couldn't see how she felt. Whatever he saw now, however, was enough.
"All right, Bones. Eat something, OK? I'll pick you up--7:30 all right?"
"No, don't trouble yourself. I can drive."
He looked troubled. "Fine. Meet you here at eight?"
"Eight." Without another word, she got into the car and drove away.