Here we go. Chapter Seven. I had a hell of a time getting this thing written up. Chapter Seven is my unlucky chapter. I decided to make a change. Please prevent from yelling at me when you stee who is still alive...

Disclaimer: Clones on Loan.
Rating: Very low T for this chapter...
Spoilers: Very slight ones for the second season...
Summary: Girl is found in a warehouse.
Shout-outs: To all of you who reviewed. Especially to netopia and Bella-mi-amore. And to the rest of you, of course. Please continue submitting your wonderful reviews!

On with the show!

Chapter Seven: The Girl in the Warehouse

"How are you holding up, Bones?"

Brennan looked up at Booth from her couch. He was leaning against her desk, his legs crossed in front of him as he held a paper cup filled with what was probably his sixth cup of coffee.

Stifling a yawn, Brennan crossed her arms over her eyes and thought for a moment. "I'm exhausted. I haven't slept since about twenty four hours ago and I'm running off of caffeine."

"Probably not the healthiest thing, is it?" Booth smiled crookedly as his lifted his own cup of coffee in a salute before draining the rest of it and tossing it into the trashcan.

"No. It's not."

Glancing at his watch, Booth took a deep breath. "It's five in the morning, Bones. We've been working for nearly six hours. Tell me again why they couldn't wait until the shift started?"

"Hasn't Dr. Saroyan already explained it to you multiple times?"

"Maybe I want to hear it from somebody who isn't able to stay up for three days straight and has some kind of real sense about the time of day. And besides: Your technical babble keeps me awake."

"It's not babble, Booth."

"Whatever. Just talk to me, okay? Caffeine can only do so much for me." He moved to the couch and motioned for her to move. She lifted her head a bit and waited for him to sit down before putting a pillow on his lap and lying down.

"If we had not arrived when we had then the snow would have possibly destroyed the integrity of the remains," she said slowly, her eyes closing as his fingers stroked her hair. It had been a long morning. "Although I agree with you: it probably could have waited until morning."

"And what have you deduced about the body?" Booth closed his eyes as well and leaned his head back onto the couch.

"We have a Caucasian female in her late teens. The amount of decomposition in relation to the temperature and location of the body indicates that she has been dead for about a week and a half. When Angela gets here I am going to give her the skull. It is in good condition and should be fairly easy for her to reconstruct. And there was trace evidence under her fingernails so I'll have Hodgins and Zack run those. The bones are being cleaned right now."

"What about identification?"

"Her teeth are intact so I sent X-rays to be matched in case Angela's reconstruction doesn't correspond with any missing-person's reports."

"It sounds like it'll be easy then."

"Booth," Brennan sighed, her fingers moving to intertwine with his, "this job is never easy. You know it took me two and a half to secure the scene and do a recovery. Then it took me another three to do the autopsy."

"Don't go on the defensive, Bones," Booth chuckled. He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed against them tenderly. "I just wish that we could have waited a few hours before coming in today."

"It's not like we would have gotten much sleep anyway, even if that call hadn't come until morning." She grinned coyly and before Booth could respond a knock at the door cut him off short. Sitting up swiftly, Brennan pulled her hand back into her lap and cleared her throat. "Come in."

Zack Addy opened the door and poked his head inside. Raising his hands by way of offering he revealed two cups of coffee. "I got your message Dr. Brennan."

"Zack," Brennan smiled as she stood from the couch. "You didn't have to come in. You had another two or three hours."

"And how long have you been here?"

Shrugging the question off, Brennan moved to take the offered coffee. Sipping it, she inhaled deeply, a slow smile spreading. "Mmm…hazelnut and vanilla. Thank you, Zack."

He nodded before handing Booth the other cup. "Who gave you a ride?" Booth asked, cocking his head and took a sip of the coffee.

"Hodgins. He's downstairs now on the phone." Zack looked over at Brennan with a question in his eyes. "He was driving Angela's car when he picked me up."

Brennan choked on the coffee and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. "So where is Angela?"

Zack shrugged and before he could ask more questions Hodgins had poked his head through the door. "Good morning, sunshine," he sung with a large smile spread across his face.

"It's not sunny out yet," Brennan objected into her coffee. She couldn't prevent her eyes from surveying the man with curiosity. Had he really been at Angela's all of Sunday? Probably: He was wearing the same clothes that she had seen him in on Friday.

"Angela will be here in about forty-five minutes. I just got off the phone with her." He waggled his tiny cell phone in the air before slipping it in his pocket. Turning his gaze over at Booth, he smiled. "How was your weekend?"

Booth smiled. "Eventful."

"Really? Mine was too. What a coincidence."

Brennan made a small sound of protest and the smiles on their faces widened. She glared at them reprovingly with her arms crossed over her chest. Zack stood in the middle, staring back and forth between them, a look of utter confusion painted all over his face.

"This is going to be a fun week, don't you thing?" Booth asked, his smile widening even further. Hodgins nodded in agreement.

"It most certainly is."

- - -

"An African-American Jane Doe was found last night in an abandoned warehouse that was scheduled to be demolished at noon today. She was found by a small crew of the workers who were doing a preliminary search, one of two that would ensure that no one was inside, and they found her in a back corner of a room in the top floor. Unfortunately she was in an area where she was easily reached by the elements and it had to be called in as soon as humanly possible." Dr. Camille Saroyan pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut.

It was now 6:00 AM and everyone was gathered around, sitting with cups of coffee cradled in their hands. Booth and Brennan stared blankly at the air in front of them as they struggled to keep their eyes open. Angela stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Hodgins. They were the only two that looked reasonably awake.

"I do have one question:" Angela said, her arms crossed over her breast, "where exactly was the body that it was so susceptible to the elements that we had to come in at such a God-forsaken hour?"

Camille smiled wryly and shook her head, leaning against the steel bar behind her. "That's what they told me. But the man who owns the demolition crew was on a tight schedule and I don't think that the fact that he is close personal friends with a senator really hurt his rank of priorities." She let her smile fall to a slight frown as she shook her head. "Believe me: I don't want to be here any more than any of you but we had to get Booth and Brennan out here ASAP before they guy went A-wall on us."

"Who is this guy?" Hodgins grunted with a frown.

"Robert Leeward. I've never heard of him but he and Senator Cornwall grew up together and apparently the guy wanted to get home to the wife and kids so he sent in a distress signal to the senator." Camille smiled again. "But we can pray that this is easily solved. I want to get home as soon as humanly possible."

"I don't believe in prayer," Brennan mumbled as she ducked back into her coffee. "It is a meaningless process."

"Whatever," Camille sighed, obviously not in the mood.

- - -

Brennan stared at the body lying on the table in front of her. Jane Doe number 39583 was lying on the sterile aluminum table, her arms at her side and her skull propped up on a cushion for better viewing. She had sent fibers to Hodgins and skin tags found under the fingernails to Zack to be analyzed. Angela had just returned the skull just a few minutes ago after examining it. And for the past few hours Brennan had been bending over the table, noting any abnormalities that might indicate identification.

Looking up at the clock, she groaned. It was 11:30. Time for lunch. Removing her gloves, she dropped them into a trash can and started for her office, mentally calculating the pros and cons for the different restaurants in the immediate area. When she opened her office door and saw Booth sitting in her chair holding up a tempting-smelling bag of Mexican take-out. Waggling his eyebrows, he gave her one of those charm smiles that sent a thrill up her spine.

"You've been wearing your eyes out for the past four hours, Bones. I thought that I was going to have to get you out of there myself." He stood and moved to close the door behind her. Setting the bag down on the couch, he turned to her and captured her lips in his.

For a moment she was about to shove him away. Her eyes widened and her hands moved to his shoulders in an attempt to push him. But when his hands traveled to the small of her back and tenderly pressed against her closer, she let her eyes close and her hands move instead to the back of his neck. And as she opened her mouth and let him in she felt the tension in her muscles flowing down her body and out of her toes.

When they surfaced for air her breath was ragged and her face flushed.

"I was expecting you to hit me," Booth quipped softly. She let out a breath of exasperation and moved her hands to his shoulders.

"I was going to. Don't kiss me at work, Booth. I don't care how well you kiss. I won't be able to concentrate for an hour now, thanks to you." She frowned and tucked his hair behind her ear.

"Does that mean you're admitting I'm a good kisser?" Booth was grinning and at the sight her frown deepened. Quickly, she changed the subject.

"What did you bring for lunch?"

Booth chuckled and he reluctantly released her. Turning to the couch he picked up the bag to reveal his spoils.

- - -

"Dr. Brennan. Excuse me, Dr. Brennan."

"Go away," Brennan mumbled, trying to slip back into the silent stupor that she had just barely been able to obtain. She turned to press her face into the back cushions of the couch and found not soft material but hard flesh. Her eyes flew open and she yelped, rolling off the couch in surprise. When she was able to gather her equilibrium enough to sit, she looked around in confusion.

She was in her office, the lights were off, and Zack had his head poking through the doorway. On the couch, Booth was stretched out, his eyes opened to slits as he gazed down at her, an amused smirk on his face. She vaguely remembered sitting down with him to relax after lunch. A glance at the clock told her that that had been an hour ago.

"What's happening, Zack?" she muttered, trying to banish the sleep from her voice.

Zack looked apologetic, making a point not to look at Booth. "We decided it was best not to wake you until we had all of our results ready."

"And?" she groaned, wiping a hand over her eyes.

"Angela has the face, the results of the skin follicles have arrived, Hodgins has identified the foreign fibers found in the throat, and I've figured the cause of death." He paused, frowning slightly. "Are you ready to come and check our findings?"

Brennan nodded sleepily and put her hand on the couch, hoisting herself off the floor. Booth groaned and swung his legs over the edge of the couch, standing up next to her. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he led her out of the office, his fingers discreetly rubbing against the exposed flesh below the hem of her shirt.

- - -

"Meet Jane Doe number 39583." Angela pressed a button and a girl's face appeared above them in the simulation module. "Five foot, four and approximately fifteen or sixteen years old."

"That puts this under FBI jurisdiction," Booth acknowledged with a nod of appreciation.

"She's a pretty girl," Brennan whispered. But that didn't matter. No one cared what you looked like once you were dead. All that standing in front of a mirror worrying about the way that your hair fell or fretting over that large zit on your nose no longer mattered once you were dead. "Our findings match, then. Her dental work indicates that she is about fifteen—and so does the markings on her skull."

"That puts this under FBI jurisdiction," Booth acknowledged with a nod of appreciation.

"What about identification?" Camille stood on the opposite side of the simulator.

"We got a couple of hits in the system for young African-American girls in the tri-state area." Booth pulled out a few print-outs and handed them to Brennan. "But she doesn't look anything like any of these girls."

Brennan nodded. "Widen the search a few states. Maybe we'll get a hit then." She turned to Hodgins. "So what do you have?"

Hodgins lifted his hand and crooked his finger in a gesture to follow him. Together, they filed out of the room and into the main area of the lab and then to the desk with Hodgins' microscope. Brennan pressed her eyes against it and stared at the object in the lens for a long time until rising and letting Booth take a look. When he was done, Hodgins handed them his own print-outs.

"It's a synthetic fiber commonly found on bed sheets and pillowcases. Since it was in her throat I would hazard a guess that she was smothered."

"That's not consistent with the rest of the evidence. I found a star-shaped that indicates that something was rammed into the base of her skull right at the top of her spinal cord."

"Have you come up with any matches to the pattern?"

Zack walked over to the computer, pressed a few keys, and turned the screen towards them so they could see. "The pattern matches that of a Phillips-head screwdriver. It is my guess that someone thrust it into her neck, instantly killing her."

"Then what about the fibers in her lungs and throat? Where did they come from?" Booth ran a hand through his in concentration.

Hodgins shrugged. "Maybe someone was intending to smother her but failed. So, to finish the job thoroughly, he slammed the screwdriver into the head. Finishes her off nice and quick."

Brennan nodded. "Maybe," she mused, staring back at the computer. She stood there for a long moment, her mind trying to discern the girl's last few hours from the little that she already knew. "What about the skin under her fingernails?"

Zack shook his head in disappointment. "No matches. But it is definitely foreign skin. Not her own. And the vaginal swab yielded seamen, indicating sex soon before her death. Or soon after." He cringed visibly at the thought. "And the fractures on the pubic bones suggest that she was indeed raped."

"Great," Booth sighed. "Fifteen years old. Is there nothing that children these days aren't susceptible to anymore?"

Brennan shook his head and ran a finger over the computer screen. "No," she whispered. "No, there isn't."

- - -

Booth stared at the paper in his hands, dismay spreading from his fingertips to his toes as he stared at the face staring straight back at him. "Keiley Darrow," he whispered, feeling the name on his tongue. He was holding a print-out of a police report filed a month ago by the authorities in a small town in Ohio. There had been no leads, no body, and no evidence to suggest anything except a teenage girl running away from an oppressing home.

But now there was. And the dental records on his desk in front of him proved it.

"Booth?"

Booth looked up in surprise. Camille stood there, her arms down at her sides and a green blazer on, zipped up for protection against the biting wind outside. "What are you doing over here, Camille?" he asked. He'd never seen her set foot inside the FBI building. At least not inside his office.

"I just got done talking to your boss. We scheduled a flight for you and Dr. Brennan tomorrow so you can head out to Ohio and get a handle on this thing."

Booth nodded slowly, his brow furrowed slightly as he tried to figure out what the real reason was that she was here standing in his office. "Why are you telling me?"

"I want you to take Zack with you."

"You want me to baby sit?" Booth's voice was indignant as he thought of toting the Squint around.

"He needs real field experience, Booth. Everyone's had it now except for him and now that he is no longer Dr. Brennan's assistant—"

"He hasn't been her assistant for almost six months now."

"Exactly. And he still hasn't been out on the field. This seems a pretty simple case compared to some of the ones we've had to deal with recently so I have come to the conclusion that it is perfect for him."

Booth shook his head. "Have you run this by Bones?"

"Yes and she agreed after a little bit of persuasion."

Booth suppressed a groan. Not only would they have to deal with a Squint but what were the chances that he would be able to pull something off with Brennan without getting caught? Not that he would ever try, of course, he assured himself quickly. Just hypothetically. "Will I have to share a room with him?"

Camille nodded. "Of course. Why waste money one an extra room?"

"Isn't there a policy against agents sharing a room?"

"You're the same sex, Booth."

"But hasn't it occurred to you that one of us might not care about that?" His tone was suggestive and he smiled mischievously.

Camille did a little eye-sweep up and down his body and a small smirk tugged at her lips. "Never occurred to me. You better get packing, though. Your flight leaves at seven."

Ah, Camille. I let you live. But at a price. You shall find out soon enough but before I get yelled at for keeping her alive: she isn't going to be a problem ever again.

Next chapter is humor/romance/casework. I've gone over the case meticulously even before writing the story chapters so if you see any flaws PLEASE inform me so I can fix it. Please.

And please push the buttons. Reviews feed my soul and you don't want me to die, do you? You won't get to find out what happens with Booth and Brennan if you let me die... My ghost doesn't know how to spell...