FicWad

Dr. Temperance Brennan finished her last report of the day and let out a heavy sigh. That complete, she prepared to wrap up another early evening at the lab.

Things had been unusually quiet around the medico-legal lab of late. It almost appeared that the population of Washington D.C. had grown tired of killing each other. However, that was highly unlikely. So instead of partaking in the cheer of her interns, Dr. Brennan had resigned herself to dread.

She had seen spells of little to no violence just like it before in her career. Each and every time their end was punctuated by crimes which made even her stomach threaten to turn.

The sense of foreboding refused to lift as she gathered her things. But Dr. Brennan continued to head out of the building, despite her terrible, irrational, feeling that something was about to happen.

She had just settled into her car when her phone made a shrill demand for her attention. It was Booth. As soon as she heard how he said, "Bones", Dr. Brennan knew that their brief respite was over.

"I'm on my way, where do you need me?" she asked urgently, not wasting time with unnecessary greetings.

"West Potomac Park. We need you as soon as possible," he replied tensely, "Just a warning, Bones - it's bad."

That Booth felt the need to warn her of all people, meant nothing good. So Dr. Brennan hung up after a hasty goodbye and sped out of the Jeffersonian's parking lot. Although the drive to West Potomac Park was normally relatively short, that day it felt as though it took her hours to make the journey.

The seemingly endless amounts of traffic didn't help matters much.

She knew the increase in congestion was probably due to the cars being diverted away from the park. But that rationalisation failed to quell her frustration. She was impatient to get to the crime scene and get to work. Booth's call had clearly indicated it was urgent.

Perhaps she would ask for sirens to be fitted to her car. Booth might just agree this time.

After what seemed to her to be an unnaturally long time she arrived at the park. There were some rookie officers guarding the entrance to the crime scene who she had to fight with to get through. In hindsight, she may have been a little harsh. She could hear one of the young men sniffling and being comforted by his partner.

Oops.

Once she was through all of the barriers she saw that Dr. Saroyan was already on site. Dr. Brennan greeted her and they got straight to business.

"Three sets of remains have been found so far. There's not a lot for me to do with them, there's almost no soft tissue left on the bodies," she began to briefing, pointing out which direction each of the sets of remains were found in, "Chances are they were minors. The team found a burnt out fire pit, empty vodka bottles - cheap stuff - and what initial examinations suggests are the remnants of some pretty serious drugs."

"Any theories why the remains were so spread out?"

"Something obviously interrupted the party. There's multiple sets of tracks all over. All of them human. All of them originating from the pit. Most of them still being tracked."

"So they weren't pursued by an animal."

"No. Definitely not. It rained and froze here last night so all of the tracks were preserved perfectly. But we have no idea which of them are the killers. If any of them are."

"Has any concrete evidence been found yet?"

"None. We're just hoping some of the hair and blood we're sampling is the perp's."

"You're not confident in identifying the killer's footwear impressions?" Brennan asked, surprised.

If the markings were preserved so well, comparing them to the victim's clothing would make it a simple process of elimination.

"Normally, I would be. But I was out at the bodies we found. The only tracks or markings were made by the victims. I couldn't see any tracks leaving the scenes. Neither could the FBI forensic's team. They haven't stopped looking, though."

"So the killer has experience covering their tracks."

"I know. Wonderful," Camille said with enough sarcasm for it to be obvious to Brennan.

When Dr. Brennan got to work she saw Dr. Saroyan had not been exaggerating. Not in the slightest. There was no indication of anyone aside from the victims having been present at their times of death. Not one extra footwear impression. No remaining signs of the struggle which must have occurred before each of them died.

She turned to Booth, who was standing out of the way to take notes of her observations. With a great amount of disappointment, she confirmed Camille's assessment.

"Whoever did this covered their tracks expertly," she affirmed.

"Expertly as in used to clearing park paths, or has a lot of practice destroying evidence?" he asked.

Dr. Brennan shrugged, unable to discern a difference in method from the crime scene.

"I can't tell. If you want someone to guess perhaps you should ask Sweets," she suggested.

"I will, he's on his way," Booth said distractedly, "So if this guy can really cover his tracks that well, we have to assume he could've done the same with the rest of the evidence."

"That would be the logical conclusion, yes," Brennan confirmed.

"So we have to think he didn't cover it up deliberately," Booth concluded.

"It's not unreasonable to think so," she agreed.

"Which means he wanted the bodies to be found."

"I can't determine if that's true," Brennan said, "That's a question for Sweets."

"Right, well what can you tell me about victim number one?"

"He was an adolescent, as Cam concluded. Between fifteen and eighteen years old. Approximately six feet tall. An athlete, well muscled. Played football, basket ball, and tennis."

"That's good," Booth said as he scribbled her statements into his notebook.

"He has an old fracture on his left ulna. As well as a more recent set of fractures to his right tibia. His teeth are veneers - probably another sports injury, but it will definitely be on record."

"Excellent, Bones. I'll call the Bureau, let them know we have a way to ID one John Doe. I'm pretty sure they'll be happy to know one of them is a John Doe. It's more than we knew earlier.

As he did just that Brennan turned back to the crime scene. The case was brutal, and that was only the first of the scenes. She had many more to go.

Brennan was quite sure the case wouldn't get much media coverage. It was too gruesome for much before the watershed, at least.

Parts of two victims had been strewn around the small break in foliage where they stood. She had been trying to determine which bones belonged to which victim.

Camille had been correct in deciding there wasn't much for her to do there until they returned to the lab. The soft tissue bore a closer resemblance to mush than to flesh and bone.

Many of the bones had been broken and damaged, mostly postmortem. The other skull had been almost completely shattered. There was definitely enough blood for tests. It gathered in pools on the forest floor and stained the light-barked trees in streaks - marks of fingernails were left along with one streak.

"We're presuming one of the victim's was carried here by the other, based on the drag marks," one of the forensic techs informed her. She was pretty sure her name was Alethea.

"That makes sense," Brennan acknowledged, looking at the drag marks the woman indicated, "The pattern does indicate one large person leaning on another, smaller person as they ran."

The woman seemed pleased that Brennan confirmed her hypothesis.

Dr. Brennan turned her attention to the remains that did not belong to their John Doe.

"This pelvis belongs to a female. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three. Never given birth. If this was her femur, and I feel safe presuming it to be, she was a runner. I won't be able to give a definite statement on race until the skull is reconstructed."

"That's really good Bones. Shouldn't be too hard to find a young girl that tall. We can check with the local high schools. See if any of their track team are missing."

"Is that all we've got for now?" Booth asked as he finished writing his notes.

"Until I get the remains cleaned and reassembled, yes. Is the other victim in any better condition?"

Brennan stood and reached for an evidence bag to help with collecting the evidence. There was a lot of it.

"It's pretty much on par with this, but the skull is intact," Alethea told her as she assisted Dr. Brennan in bagging evidence.

Brennan like Alethea, she really did. She was efficient and detail oriented. Very intelligent. She might try to talk her into a higher degree. She was in need of a good intern. She always was, really. You never could have too much good help, in her opinion.

When they were finished processing the first crime scene they went directly to the site of the third body. They bypassed the fire pit, for the time being. But Dr. Brennan didn't get to examine that crime scene for quite a while after that. Because as she and Agent Booth ducked under the crime scene tape another agent dashed to Booth's side. He was out of breath, so he gestured for them to follow him, and turned around to head back the way he came.

"Agent Charles," Booth greeted him as he and Dr. Brennan caught up with him, "What's the problem?"

"Three more bodies Agent Booth, all as bad as the first three victims. Winston thinks he's close to another, he radioed in just a second ago. We also found this," Agent Charles shoved an evidence bag containing a dirtied dry-erase board into Booth's hands, "near the party site."

Curious as to why he thought it so important, Dr. Brennan read the board over Booth's shoulder. There were only a few short sentences written in a neat hand with a bright teal marker. There was a little drawing of a blue jay in the top left hand corner.

It read:

'Come on Anna tell me where we're going'

'Anna this is a bad idea we need to go'

'TAKE ME HOME NOW!'

There had been more at one point, but the lower half was mostly rubbed out, indecipherable, and covered in mud.

"It seems to confirm the 'teens-attacked-at-bonfire' theory," Agent Charles commented, and Brennan couldn't argue with that, "And it looks like that one knew why they shouldn't have been partying last night."

"Yeah, it does. But who brings a dry-erase board to an illegal drug-fuelled bonfire in the middle of the forest?" Booth wondered not expecting anyone to answer. No one did, they just moved further into the forest.

Dr. Brennan didn't get to that crime scene either. They had made it about half way there, based on the maps Dr. Brennan saw later. That was when they heard another agent bellow from deeper in the forest.

"We've got a live one! Barely!"

Dr. Brennan and the two agents immediately took off in the direction of the voice. Agent Booth was on the radio right away, ordering an ambulance.

They weren't the only ones responding to the call. Judging by the thundering of footfalls she could hear, every single person within hearing range was running to be of assistance.

Although, when Dr. Brennan arrived at the latest part of the extensive crime scene, they didn't appear to be assisting at all. In fact, Dr. Brennan would have said they were doing the opposite of helping.

When Dr. Brennan broke through the underbrush the scene that met her eyes was not what she expected. A girl who could not have possibly been more than sixteen was backed against a tree trunk. Her posture was reminiscent of a caged, feral animal. Poised to bolt at the first sign of an opportunity for freedom. Though Dr. Brennan was doubtful she would be able to move far in her condition. Her skin was actually blue and she showed all the other signs of hypothermia.

But then she saw the three agents who were lying on the ground. They appeared to be unconscious. The sick teenager appeared to be the only potential culprit.

The girl who was positively terrified. Her entire form was vibrating. Not just from the cold, but from agitation. Despite the exhaustion clear in the bags under her eyes, she was desperate to move. She held the frenzied look of someone fighting for their life. From the state of her appearance and where she was found, it was more than likely she had been doing that the previous night.

Her short, violently violet hair was dirty and tangled. With twigs and leaves lodged in it at various angles. Her clothes - 'punk' in style - were practical and hard wearing. But even they were in shreds, barely hanging onto her small frame, and absolutely filthy. She couldn't be sure, but Brennan thought she could see some serious injuries underneath them.

She was, without a doubt, a victim of whatever happened the previous night. The only living one so far. Although, she wouldn't be for very long if she didn't receive medical attention very, very soon.

"We're not going to hurt you," Booth tried to assure her as he corralled his colleagues into giving the girl some space. He showed her his badge, but that only seemed to make her more hostile.

"We just want to know your name," he said to her in a soothing manner.

The girl simply shook her head and moved father back. As though she was trying to will the tree to swallow her whole.

"We just want to help you," he told her, "Just tell us your name, and let us help you."

Again he received no answer. Just a wary, furious glare. The girl continued her silence as Agent Charles took a step toward her. Just drew her lips into a snarl.

The FBI agents appeared not to be taking her seriously. But they were mistaken. Beneath the dirt, and panic, and night sleeping on frozen ground, the girl was strong and capable. That she had been able to knock out the three agents who found her was not a coincidence.

"If you don't cooperate, we'll have to arrest you," Booth warned her.

Still no response. But she did taker her eyes off of Charles long enough to send Booth a defiant glare and give him the finger.

Insulting such a widely respected Special Agent in Charge was not the smartest thing for her to do. All of Booth's colleagues reached for their handcuffs. Two of them advanced on her. They were confident they would be able to overpower the petite girl.

They were wrong.

Very wrong.

When they tried to manhandle her, the girl's reaction was similar to that of that big green comic book character Booth liked so much. Dr. Brennan hadn't been expecting that much of a reaction.

She elbowed the first to reach her hard in the stomach. Then managed to flip him over and throw him down on a large root. The second was taken care of just as quickly. She threw one punch at his face and he fell to the ground and stayed there.

That all happened extremely quickly. By the time anyone had recovered, the girl had pressed herself back against the tree trunk. Booth was unsurprisingly the first to adjust.

"Assaulting federal agents isn't going to help your case, kid," he snapped, "Now, this's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna take you back to bureau, and your gonna tell us who you are and what you were doing here. Alright?"

All the girl did was take deep laboured breaths and try to remain upright. She was trying very hard not to stagger. That behaviour could be attributed to the hypothermia. But it seemed off to Brennan. She took a more in-depth look at the girl's eyes. Her pupils were dilated in a way that suggested she was, for lack of a better term, high. And not all that used to the sensation.

Just like that, the evidence fit together perfectly.

"Booth, stop," Brennan called as Booth approached the girl, "She can't tell you anything, she brought the board"

"Well, why not?"

"She can't speak, Booth, she's mute," Brennan explained placing herself between Booth and the girl, and spoke to her, "You can't speak, isn't that right?"

The girl focused on her with increasing difficulty. She nodded slowly, unsurely.

"This board was yours," Brennan held up the board in its evidence bag.

The girl nodded at her again.

"Oh, that complicates things," Booth said, and Brennan turned to meet his frustrated gaze.

"No, just your agents need to go back to doing their jobs. Let the paramedics handle her."

"We can't just leave her. Look at her, she's an obvious flight risk."

"I'll stay with her."

"What do you think you could do to stop her. Your're not a cop."

"Well, I'm the only one she hasn't snarled at or tried to punch," she argued, then added much more quietly, "She is cared, sick and was drugged. It's very likely based on how wary she is of you and your male colleagues, that she was attacked by a male assailant."

"Alright, I get what you mean. It's not a bad idea. I'll radio in, ask for female paramedics."

"Please do."

With that settled Booth chased off his agents. Hopefully, they would go back to doing their actual jobs. Before all of them left Brennan commandeered one of their jackets.

When they were all out of sight she laid the waterproof coat out on the round near the girl. Away from any visible evidence.

"We should sit while we wait for the paramedics. It's slightly better than the tree roots."

The girl did nothing. But Brennan could see standing was becoming quite difficult for her.

"Please," she implored, "You're hurt and it would make me feel better if you sat with me."

That approach worked. The girl moved slowly toward her, balance unsteady, and sat down. Despite her injuries, the girl curled in on herself. Drew her legs up to her chest. Then she began rubbing her chest in controlled circles.

So not only was she experienced as a brawler. She knew survival techniques. That was interesting, but Brennan didn't comment on it. The girl was skittish enough without her prying. Because Dr. Brennan did have some tact.