Disclaimer: I don't own them, I didn't create the, and I certainly don't profit from them, but I can dream can't I?
Author's Note: This is a work in progress and like many writers, I need to let the characters direct me where they want it to go (some call it a muse, mojo, or maybe just those little voices in your head), in any case, I'll try and update frequently, but I make no promises except to try and stay true to the characters and perhaps push them a little further than the writers of the show might.
It was part way into the thirty-fourth straight hour that Brennan finally decided that she needed to take a break and give in to what her body had been craving for more hours than she cared to admit. The lab was nearly deserted, most everyone else having already gone home to get some proper sleep or camped out in their own offices until a more decent hour for working arrived. As she sank into the soft leather couch in her office and pulled a throw carelessly around her, any last resistance to sleep seemed to pull right out of her and as she drifted off to sleep her head swirled with the events of the last day and a half.
Four bodies had been found underneath a house in Georgetown by a plumber who had been called in to make repairs on the structure during a renovation project. All of the bodies were diminutive in their stature; suggesting to Brennan that each of them were no more than 10 years old. How much time had passed since they had first been placed there was something for Hodgins to surmise from the insect and trace evidence around the bodies, but there was something about the whole scenario that had pushed Brennan to continue working. She hated it when the victims were children, and it was clear from where these remains had been found that they indeed were victims; her cursory examination of the bones had confirmed that each one of them had died in a violent manner.
Booth had questioned the homeowner, Mr. Seroth, for several hours and hadn't backed down until he could confirm that the home was a recent acquisition as Seroth had asserted. Now Booth had everyone he could down at the FBI running down every previous owner of the building in an effort to find out who might be responsible. He seemed almost more driven than Brennan and she thought that perhaps it was because he envisioned Parker every time a case involving a child came into play.
It felt like she'd been asleep for only a few minutes, but as she finally stirred, she realized that she'd slept for nearly six hours and the lab had come to life again in the interim with people picking right back up where they'd left off only hours before. She sat up and yawned, stretching her arms above her head as she tried to work out a few of the kinks in her neck that had developed while sleeping curled up in a ball on her couch. She considered briefly going home to take a shower and change her clothes, but there was still so much to do to finish the examination of the four sets of remains that she really didn't want to take the time. She had worked numerous days in the same clothes when she'd worked in Rwanda and Guatemala, a few more hours in these clothes certainly wouldn't kill her.
She plucked her lab coat off of the back of the couch where it had haphazardly ended up in her quest for sleep. She slipped it on and made her way out into the lab, heading for the platform where she'd left the remains she'd been examining. From her preliminary examination it seemed that this victim was a small boy probably five or six years in age; this one in particular had caused Brennan to continue working longer than she would have otherwise. There was something about his structure that reminded her of Booth's son Parker and she knew that who ever this little boy's parents were that they probably missed him.
As she stepped onto the platform, her assistant Zach Addy glanced over at her, "Good morning, Dr. Brennan." He hadn't had much sleep himself, having crashed on a couch in a communal area of the Jeffersonian. He felt compelled to try and be as driven as his mentor, but he was finding that she set the bar rather high and it was difficult to keep up with her.
"Morning, Zach," Brennan didn't really look his direction, her eyes were on the skeletal remains sitting on the exam table, "I want you to clean these bones; make sure you go particularly slow, I don't want any potential evidence damaged." She let out a yawn; apparently that trip home to get a shower would have been a good idea.
"Bren, did you stay here all night?" The concerned voice of Angela Montenegro filtered through as she walked up onto the platform. She had her head tilted slightly and an single eyebrow raised with her hip jutted out in a posture that indicated that she might just launch into a lecture about how taking care of the living was more important than staying up all night in favor of working on the dead.
"Yes, Angela." Brennan really wasn't in the mood for small talk right at this moment, she half expected Booth to come sweeping into the lab wanting an update on the identities of the victims, including names, addresses, and what their potential voting record might have been had they had the opportunity to grow up in the first place.
Angela crossed her arms over her chest and began to tap her toe, "Sweetie, you look like a mess." She took in the rumpled appearance of her best friend; yesterday's clothes, mussed up hair, make-up that needed more attention than a touch up could provide, and breath that could knock over a sexy hunk of an FBI Special Agent who would probably be here any moment. Didn't Brennan realize that bad breath could be the kiss of death?
"I'm not particularly concerned with how I look right now; I woke up only a few minutes ago," As if to emphasize her point, she let out a yawn. She glanced at Angela and smirked as she realized that her best friend looked well rested and extremely satisfied; she'd been with Hodgins all night no doubt.
"Well you should be concerned, what if Booth shows up?" Angela had made it her personal mission to make sure that Brennan and Booth realized how much in love they were with each other; no matter how much either of them denied it or changed the subject; she could read people and she knew that Booth was perfect for her best friend, well just perfect really.
"Angela, Booth doesn't care what I look like." Brennan really didn't want to take the time to get into this with Angela right now. There was so much work to do still on this particular case that she didn't have it in her to take personal advice.
"I think he is, sweetie," Angela had a knowing smile; she'd seen the way Seeley Booth had watched Brennan when he thought no one was looking; the man definitely noticed how she looked whether she wanted to admit it or not.
"I would have to agree with Angela, Dr. Brennan." Zach chimed in; he didn't understand why Agent Booth's perception of Dr. Brennan's appearance mattered per se, but he had definitely noticed that when she looked particularly attractive the FBI agent seemed drawn to her the way protons and neutrons were drawn together to create an atom. "Booth does seem to notice your appearance."
"I'm sure no more than he notices yours, Zach." Brennan wanted to focus on the work, not on what she did or did not look like in the mind of Booth; that topic had wasted more of her own brain power than she'd ever admit to anyone and besides, Booth had seen her look worse than this on numerous occasions.
"Sweetie, Booth definitely doesn't look at Zach the way he looks at you." Angela had a conspiratorial smile on her face as she considered how she could blackmail Booth if she could take a picture at an opportune moment to prove her point.
"Angela's right again. Booth seems very appreciative of your structure," Zach seemed pleased with himself that he'd noticed; of course it was difficult to miss; as an anthropologist, well an almost anthropologist anyway, he could definitely appreciate Dr. Brennan's well formed structure, and as a man, well, he tried not to let it distract him.
Brennan shot both Zach and Angela a look that might freeze the blood of most people, "Right now we need to concern ourselves with the structure of our victim here." She really was far more tired than she'd thought and somehow it had affected her mood as well because she hadn't intended to snap.
As if on cue, Booth strode into the lab purposefully, hardly pausing as he swiped his card on his way up the platform as he noticed Bones, his brow was furrowed as he took in her appearance with a worried glance, "Did you sleep at all, Bones? 'Cause you look like hell."
To be continued...