Story: Cage

Disclaimer: I happen to own… NOTHING! Everyone belongs to FOX…. Damn. Savage Garden lyrics for 'Crash and Burn' are also not mine, but Jane and William Airington are mine! But they don't really matter, now, do they? Those are the victims, by the way. Names shall be revealed after chapter 1, but just telling ya.

Spoilers: Umm... If there are any, minor for the finale, me thinks. If I incorporate any later on in this, I'll tell ya, no worries.

Pairing: BoothxBrennan. Do I even need to say that for every story? It's always the same...

Chapters: Right now, at least four? This is the first chapter and you will decide if I should continue. This will continue to a case scenario-type story, not just fluff, though fluff is a major component of the story as a whole. But, just telling you, it is not all fluff. There will be plenty of violence and action later on in what I have dubbed, 'The Typical Reichs Scenario.' That scenario will be mostly based off of a scene in Deja Dead. If you have read her books, maybe you can figure it out. If not, or if you just don't know, all will be revealed in the last chapters.

Summary: It's hard to find relief in the world, and people can be so cold. Their latest case has affected Temperance more than she would have liked, and she finally sees how lucky she really is to have a man like Seeley Booth at her side to guide her through the darkness and show her the light of human nature.

Chapter 1: People Can Be So Cold

Note: This started as a pure fluff fic, just for some BrennanAngstBoothComfort type thing, but I turned it into a case file for the last few chapters.I was inspired by Wolfmyjic, but she doesn't know that,so stick around after the fluff to find action, violence, and more fluff! Review please! -Ash

Another Note: I changed the lyrics of the first verse I mention in chapter 1 slightly to make more sense, grammatically and storywise, and in the song the last two lines of the first verse I used are "when hopes and dreams are far away and you feel like you can't face the day." Yeah, just so you know that I do know the lyrics. I like this song.

CHAPTER RATING: T

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"When you feel all alone

And a loyal friend is hard to find,

You're caught in a one-way street

With the monsters in your head,

When hopes and dreams are far away and

It's when you feel like you can't face the day."

-Savage Garden-

"…right humerus has been cut approximately 14.5 centimeters from the head. Cut marks indicate that a knife with a serrated edge was used, the attack coming from the left and cutting down through the bone from the front. Left humerus is identical. Ulna and radius on both sides have been snapped." Dr. Brennan paused and took in a trembling breath, trying to clear her head of the images of the woman in front of her, images from before her assistant Zach cleaned the bones… She shuddered as the clear picture of a half-skinned corpse flashed through her already disturbed mind.

"Both femora have been crushed from what appears to be a tire." Ha, appears to be… Sometimes, though rarely, Brennan wished she would allow herself to make those mental leaps Booth always made. She knew in her gut it had been a tire; the sonovabitch had run over the woman's legs with his car. She had crime scene photos to prove it; the skin peeling off of a mutilated woman's legs, black tire marks running across the fresh flesh… Brennan released a shaky breath she didn't know she had been holding as she moved inwards to the torso of the skeleton on her work table. Quickly smothering any lingering thoughts of the crime scene, she pressed the button down on her Dictaphone again.

"Ribs two through ten have been crushed and the sternum as been broken at the fourth rib junction." The torture this woman went through… so many injuries before death, and even after her neck had been snapped, as well…

"Calcaneus has been shattered as well as all metatarsals and phalanges on right and left feet. Talus, cuboid, navicular and medial, lateral, and intermediate cuneiform are broken." Brennan paused again as she felt a lump forming in her throat. She swallowed, hard, and switched her analysis from the feet up to the hands of her victim. The hands and the head were possibly the most important parts of an accurate identification, and she always left those for the end of her verbal findings.

"Metacarpals have all been snapped backwards at the base and the head of victim's left radius shows signs of a defense wound. Left radius seems to be the only defense wound on victim." Another breath, another swallow, only this time, Brennan had to angrily jab at her eyes before continuing with the preliminary breakdown of the victim's injuries.

"Head trauma induced to the occipital of skull as well as the left parietal." She cleared her throat and coughed, willing her vocal cords to stop trembling. "Mandible has been dislocated and cracked on the left. Fatal blow seems to be a cracked C1 and C2." Brennan placed the Dictaphone on the table and lowered her head.

With such extensive damage, it had been difficult to determine the fatality of each injury. Upon first seeing the skeleton, then body, she had hoped the damage had all been postmortem injury, but sadly, it was not true. She swallowed past the growing lump in the back of her throat and collected her notes and Dictaphone before moving to the next occupied table on the lab platform. Here, another skeleton lay waiting for her to scrutinize the damage done to its body, only this time, the bones were much smaller.

"Victim six is progeny of victim five…" She began before continuing to describe the infant's fractured skull and smashed ribs.

To an outsider, the auburn scientist would appear calm, collected, and apathetic. To Booth, however, his partner was a mess; she was falling apart at the seams, thoroughly traumatized, and for good reason. Their latest case involved a serial killer whose identity in the murders appeared as a set of cracked ribs and a fractured skull. He always picked single mothers with exactly one infant, and though the victim selection was similar for the most part, though the ages and appearance varied, his MO was always so different every time that it had taken the FBI three murder casesto deduce that they had a sick serial killer to deal with.

Booth watched Brennan with sad, sympathetic eyes as she started over again and again on the baby's remains. He saw her brush at her cheeks angrily, and through the soaring ache in his heart he felt a pang of fear. It was rare to see Temperance Brennan show anything but professional detachment in the lab, and tears were unheard of.

It scared Booth to see his Bones so distraught. He had always counted on her to be the level head when it came to the graphic parts of their work, for her to have the cool, level logic in the field and in the lab. With her so out of her element in this emotional state, Booth honestly didn't know what to think.

Brennan squeezed her eyes shut to fight down a wave of nausea. It made her sick to know and see that people could be so cold, be so cruel to innocent beings. A mother and child, of all people, the most innocent of them all. Children not yet corrupted by the world around them, and mothers who cared so much about their little helpless bundles of joy. The love between a mother and child, the purest of human nature. Her evidence told her that the child in the murders always died before the mother, and she could only guess that the sick person who enjoyed the feel of blood on his hands made the mother watch him kill and then further mutilate her child's body. In this case, he burned the infant before killing and skinning the mother. It was a small comfort to know that the child did not feel the fire consuming his flesh and the mother did not feel the knife as it penetrated her skin and carved through her cold, broken body.

Brennan shuddered at the mental images she unintentionally created for herself.

"Both mother and child appeared to… appear to have been…" Brennan stopped and rewound over the last part.

"Victims five and six are believed to have been… to be part of…" Brennan deleted that, too, before finally dropping the device on her clipboard. Gripping the lip of her metal worktable with both hands, the scientist closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, a lonely tear falling to the brightly lit surface.

Booth watched her try again and again to complete her analysis until she finally slammed the handheld voice recorder onto her notes. He watched her hold the table; saw her tremble as her knuckles turned white. Sure, he was equally pissed at whoever had done these inhumane deeds and he swore he would catch the guy who did it if it was the last thing he did, but at that moment, all that mattered was Tempe.

Motioning to Zach with one hand, Brennan gestured towards the bones then the storage room before gathering her things and walking towards the stairs leading down from the raised platform, her head down. As Booth watched her come closer, he saw her wipe her eyes with the back of her hand and he heard a small sniff escape her. He considered making a move to step up the stairs towards her, but she had already brushed past him to retreat to her office. Booth made a half turn towards where he saw her lab coat fly around a corner and paused. Did she feel ashamed that she couldn't finish? Did she not want him to see her like this? Booth couldn't remember the last time she had blown him off, and it surprised him that it hurt so much more than it should have.

Angela rounded the corner where her best friend disappeared to and Booth followed, hands thrust deep in his pockets and dark eyes staring straight ahead. He walked quickly and caught a glimpse of Brennan ignoring Angela and shutting the door in her face. Then Booth knew it wasn't him; it was the case. Angela's mouth opened as she stared at the offending door that was mere centimeters from her nose. The artist then turned at the sound of Booth's shoes on the linoleum to try and get his attention.

"Booth, what did you say to her? I mean, she, you, I… the door!" She stuttered, not being able to form a complete sentence in her surprise of being royally dumped. Booth spared her a glance and a word.

"I didn't say anything, Angela. It's the damn case." He said shortly before brushing past her and entering Brennan's office, softly shutting the door behind him. Angela watched the door close on her face once more and felt like pulling her hair out. She had a face for their adult victim and all Booth could think about was barging into Brennan's office for who knows what when he very well knew she could, and would, kick his ass if he tried to comfort her… Angela stopped her thoughts as a misplaced smile broke out across her face before she scurried off to squeal to Hodgins and Zach about Booth and Brennan. The face could wait until after the two had their little comfort session in Brennan's office…

Booth stood in front of the door as he watched the slight anthropologist on the couch. She was curled up on one side of the piece of furniture and had pressed her body as far as she could into the corner of it. Her head was in her arms, and she was shaking.

Booth stepped forward into the office and moved to the couch where he sat beside her, worried. She made no move to acknowledge him, and Booth tentatively reached a hand out and lightly set it on her shoulder. He felt the inconspicuous muscle in her tense at his gentle touch, but he did not move his hand. She slowly relaxed again and Booth gingerly rubbed his thumb in circles on her shoulder.

"Is it even worth it, Booth?" He heard her voice come from beneath the curtain of hair.

"Is what worth it, Bones? Our jobs?" Booth gently replied. She sighed, her shoulders rising and falling beneath his hand.

"No, our jobs are more than worth it." She told him before elaborating. "It's days like these, cases like this, just, the people who do these things that make me wonder if it was really worth the time and energy for humans to last all these years surviving natural disaster and overcoming natural selection only to turn right around and do this. We have men, women, mothers, fathers, children… So many different people who one day make a choice that not only impacts their lives for the worse, but so many other people's lives as well.

"Natural selection is the process by which individual organisms with favorable traits are more likely to survive and reproduce. Natural selection works on the whole individual, but only the heritable component of a trait will be passed on to the offspring, with the result that favorable, heritable traits become more common in the next generation. If this is what nature is trying to do, how do such sadistic people still live? It's like there are more and more murderers out there every day, and if natural selection is not doing anything against them and the innocent are falling victim to these killers, what is the world coming to? Has it turned the upper hand of survival of the fittest over to the murderers and serial killers? Is that what is to become of us?

"Abandonment, mutilation, drugs, alcohol, divorce, abuse, rape… what's the point? Everything will just taper down to the negative at this rate…" Booth sat in stunned silence, his thumb motionless as his hand rested on her shoulder. Sure, Brennan was a pessimist, but what she just said… He was equally stunned to hear the depressed woman's voice come out so clear and calm, as though she was talking about the weather and not her dark outlook on the fate of mankind and some sort of approaching Apocalypse. Booth removed his hand from her shoulder and reached towards her head to tuck the wavy locks of reddish-brown hair behind her ear. His actions revealed closed eyes as he stared at the exposed portion of a fallen angel's face.

"Bones?" He prodded, but her eyes remain closed. Booth stood and then knelt on the floor in front of Brennan. He put his hands on her shoulders again and repeated her name, but still nothing. He slid his hands up her neck to the base of her head and he pulled her face from her arms to face him, tucking the rest of her hair behind her ear to reveal the rest of her pale complexion. Her eyelids fluttered open, and Booth found himself staring into a pair of clear blue eyes. He bit his bottom lip; her eyes were hollow and dry, showing no reaction to anything which only sent him further into his already fretful state.

"Bones, there are good people out there. You just have to look." He told her, an urgent undertone in his voice. "The bad always stands out because it's different, but the people who care the most about you are often times right in front of you." He stopped talking as a knock interrupted them.

Angela was leaning against the doorframe, her knuckles poised above the wood behind her in preparation for another rap. She chose to ignore Booth and Brennan's positions on floor and couch, respectively, and stepped into the room. Booth kept his eyes locked with Tempe's and his hand remained at the base of her head and on her neck. For once, Angela put her friend before her fantasy of the two partners together and kept a cap on her arsenal of sexual innuendos.

"Sweetie, you're going home." Someone, probably Zach, had told her about the earlier Dictaphone incident. Brennan shook her head slightly but kept her eyes on Booth's. Angela ran a hand over her face and sighed, the stress of a long day and an uncooperative friend apparent in it.

"Brenn, honey, you got here at five this morning and I'm willing to bet that one, you didn't sleep last night, thus the earlier than usual morning, and two, you've only had coffee today. Let's go." Brennan didn't bother to deny anything; it was all true after all. The brown eyes in front of her broke contact and roamed over her face, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.

"Ger her home safe, Ange." Booth stood up, his hands lingering on Brennan and pulling her head up to remain facing him as he did so. She was still curled up in a ball, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, pulling them to her chest even tighter than usual. Booth removed one hand to brush back a stray lock of hair from her eyes.

"Get her home." He repeated. Booth ran a thumb along the length of Brennan's cheekbone in a quick motion before leaving, the feel of her skin still tingling on his hands as he exited the Jeffersonian doors.

"Let me be the one you call.

If you jump I'll break your fall,

Lift you up and fly away with you into the night.

If you need to fall apart,

I can mend a broken heart.

If you need to crash, then crash and burn

You're not alone."

-Savage Garden-

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For those of you who thought the characters were incredibly OOC, take a look back at the progression of Brennan's emotional status and how far Booth has been able to go to comfort her within the past few episodes and compare that to the very beginning. If this was further in the future, after 'The Woman in Limbo,' wouldn't an emotional scene of this level be achievable within the next few cases?

And for the rest of you, and you people above, please review this chapter. I have the gist of what I want to do all planned out; it's simply a matter of sitting down long enough to write everything down. The more reviews I get, the more inspired I get, the more chapters I write, the faster I update!

A/N: I hoped people can appreciate the view I had from Temperance about natural selection and the increasing crime rate. I started writing this in a generally good mood, but summer boredom got me down after a while and the depression of Temperance took a turn for the worse as a portrayal of my disappointment in my friends. So, I hope you liked this chapter and please review!

As always, Ash