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When the paramedics arrived it was a huge relief. Dr. Brennan assisted them in preparing to move the girl. They had to be careful because the girl was covered in evidence.

Technically speaking, she was evidence.

They explained to Dr. Brennan that their orders were to take her to the Jeffersonian, not a hospital. Apparently, the Deputy Chief was more concerned with processing evidence than the girl's health.

"Don't worry, Doc," one of the EMTs said as she set up an IV on the girl's arm, "We'll be with her the whole time."

"We won't leave her side," her partner confirmed as she tucked a second shock blanket around the girl's shoulders.

"We'll take good care of her," the first assured Brennan as they picked up the stretcher they'd laid the girl on and left.

"Thank you ... " Dr. Brennan then realised she didn't know their names.

"I'm Johnson," the first woman told her, "That pasty bitch's Sully."

"Oh, fuck you," Sully replied without any heat in her tone.

Brennan walked them back through the park. She left them at the very end of the barriers. But she stayed long enough to watch as the girl was loaded into the ambulance and the vehicle pulled out to battle its way through the reporters and bottle-neckers.

Then Brennan got to work.

It took her, Camille, Hodgins, and the entire FBI forensics team hours upon hours to collect all the evidence and clear the scene. Even with extra forensic teams having been diverted to help them with the task. It was the early hours of the morning before the dozens of squints and agents were preparing to leave. Even then, they were only being relieved by about four teams of forensic techs who were going to give the scene another going over.

They ended up with nine bodies in total. Ten victims including the girl they found alive. And about six vans filled to the brim with evidence. Not including the human remains. Those were transported separately.

The amount of evidence to keep track of would only increase when they got around to properly examining the victims.

This case was going to be filled with all nighters sifting through evidence.

She drove back to the lab with Booth. She felt a little wary of leaving her car in Mr. Fisher's hands. But she really didn't feel like driving right then, so she had no other choice. She gave Angela a call as they succeeded in getting through the media circus without running anyone over. Though she knew Booth wouldn't have minded flattening one or two of the reporters.

"Hi, Ange, how's everything going there? Tell me none of the evidence was mishandled or disturbed."

"No. But you failed to warn me that the evidence included a dying teenager," Angela said in a way that clearly showed she was more than a little angry.

"The Deputy Chief wanted us to collect evidence before she was taken to the hospital. I didn't have a say in that."

"That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. The paramedics aren't either. She needs more help than they can give her. All i can do is make her tea."

"Have the interns started collecting evidence from her yet? I want her in and out quickly as possible."

"They're waiting for you to get here," Angela told her, "They're a little afraid of her, and I think the feeling's mutual."

"Alright," Brennan said, not happy but understanding the need for delicacy in that situation, "I'll be there in about ten minutes, just do your best to keep her comfortable."

"Don't worry, I will. When you get here, she's in the bone room, and I'm playing heavy metal for her."

"Why?"

"She likes it. I'm keeping her from having another panic attack."

"Another?" Brennan asked loudly.

"Yeah. Daisy was a bit much for her," Angela said, "You know how Daisy can be."

"Yes, I know. I'll have to talk to her."

It was a talk Brennan had been putting off for weeks. But that was the final straw. It was something Daisy needed to hear. Her approach was often inappropriate for the work. But if she was having such an effect on a living girl they were working with, it had gone far beyond inappropriate.

Daisy was a talented anthropologist and incredibly intelligent. It would be a shame to allow something like interpersonal relations hold her back. It was something Brennan had some experience with. So she believed she would be able to help her intern, when they had the time. Whether that would be any time soon, however, Brennan was more doubtful.

"I'm on my way, when I get there I'll collect the evidence from the girl. In the meantime, Ange, could you photograph and catalogue her injuries. And get her something to communicate write with so she can communicate with us?" Brennan described with a sigh.

"I left a tablet with her in the bone room, but she hasn't touched it," Angela told her, something worrisome in her tone that Brennan couldn't quite identify, "I don't think she wants to cooperate."

"That's absurd," Brennan said, shocked at the very idea, "Someone brutalised her and left her for dead last night. Why wouldn't she want to help us catch them?"

"That caught Booth's attention enough to draw his gaze away from the road. Brennan gestured, a little frantically, for him to keep his mind on driving. He complied, albeit reluctantly.

"What do you mean, the girl won't cooperate?" he asked, enraged, even as he kept his eyes forward. In his frustration he was quick to blare the horn at every driver who inconvenienced their progress.

Brennan was a little surprised he'd even heard Angela through the phone. She didn't keep the volume up that loud. It was disturbing, if she was honest. So, Brennan made a mental note to stand further away from Booth whenever she wanted privacy in the future.

"I dunno," Angela replied, "I just know the uniforms posted on her protection detail spooked her so much that I had to make them stand outside the bone room. It doesn't look like she's got the warm fuzzies for cops."

"Why?" Brennan wondered, not expecting an answer. At least not right then. She would find out eventually.

After a brief silence she spoke again.

"Could you try to find out why, Ange?" she asked, "At least try to get her talking. Or writing. About anything. Anything we get out of her could be useful."

"Like her name," Booth suggested with a frown and a displeased slant to his mouth.

"Yes," she agreed, "Her name would be much appreciated."

"I can try. But don't get your hopes up. That little girl's one cool customer."

"I'm sure you can do it Ange," Brennan said with a laugh.

"You're right, I'm charming as fuck," Angela said back, amused, and assured her, "I'll get her to warm up. Figuratively and literally."

Angela said that as a joke, but Brennan had complete faith in her abilities. She had an incomprehensible way of making people open up to her. It hadn't failed her yet. Brennan hoped it wouldn't disappoint them this time either.

"Okay, Ange. I'll see you at the lab."

"Don't be too long. I don't think that girl has long to wait," she said more seriously.

With that they ended the call.

Brennan rested her head back against the car seat. She let out a long breath and resisted, with some difficulty, to groan and start massaging her temples. This case was becoming more and more difficult every time someone brought it up in conversation. Usually, Brennan liked the intellectual challenge of a complicated case. It made coming to a solution more rewarding. But she doubted solving this case would bring anyone any satisfaction whatsoever.

"Maybe we should use the sirens, Booth," she suggested at length, "Angela said the girl's condition is only getting worse. We might not have much time to question her."

To her surprise, Booth immediately reached up and flicked the switch, turning the sirens on and barging through the surrounding traffic. With the speed and precision of a rally driver. They moved so quickly that Brennan was compelled to grab onto the hand holds to steady herself. She was focused on not getting thrown around like a paper bag in a windstorm. Booth was focused on not causing a massive collision. So, all conversation was put to an end.

Brennan wasn't sure she could speak without motion sickness, anyway.