Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don’t own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

A/N: Again, thank you so much to everyone who is still reading!

Note: Thoughts are in italics.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 23

Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Saturday, September 9th – 6:27am EST

As the lab’s doors slid open, Zack unconsciously hunched his shoulders against the blast of cold air that he knew would come from above the minute he passed through the doorway. Even expecting it, he shivered uncontrollably as the chill seeped through his soaked lab coat to blow across his goose-pimply skin. Moving quickly out of the air’s path, he continued at a more sedate shuffle toward his station, puddles trailing in his wake. To make matters worse, with each step leftover rainwater dripped from the hair on the back of his neck and dribbled a path down his spine, stopping only when it seeped into the waistband of his jeans. With a sigh he reached around to rub the spot before the water could continue its trek downward since his underwear did not need any more water; the seepage through his jeans during the walk through the torrential downpour had done a rather thorough job of it already. My umbrella just had to be locked inside Hodgins’ car. Focused as he was on the events of the morning, it wasn’t until he raised his hand to swipe his badge that he realized he was still holding a torn and dripping brown bag lunch. With a sigh he turned toward the kitchenette, snagging an unused evidence bag along the way. After all, if he put his lunch in the fridge without any bag at all he ran the risk of it being “accidentally” eaten by someone else as a mid-morning snack. Not that it was truly accidental, of course. He wasn’t so naive as to believe that; but, as Zack had discovered, not all of his co-workers were opposed to undiscussed food swapping – especially where his homemade macaroni and cheese was involved.

“Vultures.”

He pointedly ignored the squelching of his sneakers and continued walking until he reached the lab’s small kitchen where he unconsciously sneered at the overwhelming yellow walls and glaring fluorescent lights. His bloodshot eyes, gritty from lack of sleep, squinted nearly closed against the assault as he made his way into the room. He was simply not feeling awake enough for anything this cheery. Dropping his stuff onto a table, he quickly transferred his food into the new bag, slid the seal closed and stashed it in the back of the fridge behind something that looked like an experiment gone all wrong. At least no one will move that…whatever it is in order to look back there.

He then actually made it all the way back to the platform before realizing that he’d left his badge on the table in the kitchen and was forced to turn around and go back. We should really upgrade to biometric security. He’d already dropped the thing twice on his way in to work; the last time it had almost gone down the runoff grate outside, so he was seriously considering the merits of somehow sewing it to his lab coat. However, after a quick mental pros and cons list, he realized just how impractical that would be and discarded the idea. Keeping it on its clip would just have to do. But, maybe he could make a few suggestions to Dr. Goodman about upgrading the current system.

As he passed by the surface of a stainless steel cabinet, badge now in hand, he gazed forlornly at his sopping reflection and muttered, “This is all Hodgins’ fault.”

After grabbing only two or three hours of sleep each night for the past couple of weeks, Zack knew that he should have been exhausted. Unfortunately, his body and mind didn’t agree. When Dr. Goodman had forced them all out of the lab late the evening before, he’d gone home to spend a restless evening of tossing and turning in bed. He’d tried any number of valid techniques – including his mom’s recipe for warm milk – intended to promote relaxation in order to attain the state necessary to induce sleep; however, every time he had managed to doze off, images from the Angelator has stolen into his dreams and torn him to wakefulness. So, by four o’clock he’d already given up on sleep. Showered and dressed for work, he had checked his e-mail and a few favorite websites while waiting for a decent hour, specifically 5:00 am, before trying to rouse Hodgins. Calling had been his first option; but, when Zack couldn’t get him to answer his phone after half a dozen tries, he’d trudged all the way up to the main house – only to be rebuffed by the never rumpled but always grumpy housekeeper who had informed him that the “master of the house” had not yet awakened. That was, of course, before the door had been closed with a solid thunk and locked with a click.

Apparently Hodgins is sleeping just fine, Zack had thought with a growl. He’d then gone with his second and least favorite option for getting to work. Grabbing his cell out of his pocket, he’d called for a cab. As usual, he’d waited in front of the tall gates that guarded the entrance to the estate, which was about the time that a light drizzle had started. By the time the cab had arrived, 20 minutes late, the drizzle had worked its way up to a soft, steady rain. But it wasn’t until the cab was cutting a path through the city that the skies had opened up to drop a torrent of water onto the weekend morning traffic. Unfortunately for Zack, that had added a terrifying amount of drive time as the cab swerved and hydroplaned its way through the rain slicked streets and gathering puddles, some of which grew too quickly to drain away and began to cover entire lanes of roadway. Add that to the city’s infamous traffic circles and tourist drivers, and Zack had been forced to close his eyes so that he could keep from focusing on the too close presence of every other car on the road. He’d actually screamed when the cab fishtailed to an abrupt standstill due to an accident up ahead. When he’d finally opened his eyes, he’d realized that he was within two blocks of the Jeffersonian. But, the rain hadn’t even begun to let up. Not really wanting to get even more wet, he’d tried to wait it out; but, after 30 minutes, the rain hadn’t slowed. Anxious to get to work, Zack had paid the cabby and jumped out – into an ankle-deep puddle – so that he could run-walk the rest of the way to the museum.

“Ohwhoa!” Zack’s attention snapped to the present as he grabbed for anything nearby in an attempt to keep himself from falling when his foot hit one of his earlier water spots and swooshed out from underneath him. He missed the railing by mere inches and hit the ground with an oomph, his badge hitting his forehead a split-second later. Once he’d ascertained that he was mostly uninjured, he spent a few moments just staring up at the rain pounding down onto the glass ceiling above.

“Now I know what people mean when they use the phrase: Today is just not my day.”

Slowly getting to his feet, Zack took care to hold the railing along the platform before moving in the direction of Angela’s office. He’d smacked his head; and while it only seemed to have a small bump, he had the sudden urge to lie down for a while. It sounded safe; safe was good. Limping away, he muttered to himself about maybe getting some sleep. He kept one hand on the wall to steady his balance and kept the other wrapped securely around his badge, mentally noting that he really needed to present the concept of advanced biometric security options to Dr. Goodman as soon as possible. Once safely ensconced in the Holographics office, he carefully closed the door and shut off the lights before going to the sofa and sinking gracelessly onto the cushions. For good measure, he covered his head with a throw pillow. Just in case a piece of the ceiling decided to fall.

A few minutes later, a shrill beeping started in the lab and didn’t stop until an irritated security guard stomped his way up the steps of the platform and smacked his hand against the computer. Once the beeping quieted, he stalked away, nearly slipping on a puddle at the base of the stairs. Grumbling about idiot geniuses with no common sense, he radioed to maintenance and asked that someone come to the lab with a mop. He didn’t even bother to look up at the main computer screen, which was blinking the words “Correlation Found”.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A service road off of Teller County Route 1 - CO

Saturday, September 9th – 4:27am MST

What had felt like days of travel could be measured in hours; and, it had taken until the deep of the night for Junior to finally submit to the shock and exhaustion brought on by the day’s events and the oh so long drive. Sometime well after midnight, the sound of the tires running along smooth pavement had lulled him into a strangely calm sleep. He’d dreamt of the road, owl-like birds and rustling leaves. The dreams weren’t unpleasant, merely unusual; so he awoke slowly, wondering fuzzily why his arms were numb. It wasn’t until he tried to rub his eyes that the rough brush of rope against his wrists jerked him awake and back to reality. Wha’the? Craning his neck, he struggled to see his hands; but as his shoulder pulled forward, the course rope tugged and scraped across his tender skin, digging tighter. He flopped back to his stomach – a cry smothered by the seat – and flexed his fingers, trying to get the feeling back. His heart pounding in his chest, he tried not to squirm when the pins and needles started; and as the fire in his arms began to subside, he took in his surroundings. All was pitch black and still. We stopped! He couldn’t see anything. Where am I? Oh, God, why’s it so dark? More than anything, he hated the dark. His mom made sure to keep nightlights on in all of the rooms of their small home. Otherwise, he had frightening dreams of evil creatures that came for him in the night. Now, stolen from his home and bound in the back of a car, he was living out his worst nightmare.

His breathing came too quick and too shallow as Junior ignored the burning in his wrists and forced himself onto his side, possessed with the need to see where he was. As he struggled to sit, it took a moment before he realized that the car was empty. Surprised, he jerked and his elbow slid out from under his weight, dropping him back onto the seat again. The man. Where’d he go? Did he just leave me here alone? That was even worse than just being in the dark. Junior wanted to scream but couldn’t manage more than a weak moan. In the silence, his breathing rasped like broken thunder, and he was getting light-headed. Knowing that he needed to calm down, he started to take deep breaths just like his gym teacher had taught him to do after a long run. Then, he set about trying to figure out where he might be.

Junior knew what the other kids at school said about him. He’d heard the names more times than he could count; but he was nowhere near as dumb as they made him out to be. Just like his mom always told him, he had street smarts. And she always said that being street smart was better than being book smart any day of the week because people who were good at school tended to be “so smart they were stupid” in everyday life. So, keeping his mom’s voice in mind, he tried to see if he could hear anything from outside. He hoped for something that would help him figure out what was going on around the SUV. Maybe he could get out and find help. Maybe we stopped at a store. If the old man’s gone long enough I can… I don’t know what, but I can do something. As he took deep breaths, he thought again of his mom. I just want to go back home. I promise to be good if I can just get home. I promise!

Then an owl’s hoot sounded off in the distance. Eyes darting to look up, Junior tried but could barely make out the view through the closed windows of the SUV. Black treetops against a midnight sky. And stars. He’d never seen so many stars before in his life. Slowly – so slowly – Junior started to slide around closer to the window. As the rope pulled, he stopped. But, after awhile, he realized that it didn’t pull too tight if he held his arms up and in, close to his back. It hurt his shoulders, but it did allow him to sit. In fear of being seen by the Scary Man, he edged his eyes up and past the bottom level of the window. At first, he popped his head up a little too far, and his ragged breathing fogged the glass which forced him to duck just a bit and wait for it to fade away. In the end, clear glass didn’t really help much. It was dark. So very dark. He didn’t know where he was, but he could make out what seemed to be a clearing surrounded by trees and deep shadows at the base of what looked like steep, rocky walls. That alone was enough to tell him that he was a very long way from home. Where am I?

That thought was torn away as a doorway of light suddenly spilled into the night, and then Junior really did scream. He kicked and howled, trying to get out. He forgot the ropes and frantically tore back across the seat, trying to get as far away as possible. When he couldn’t open the door, he slid to the floor, whimpering a prayer for help. But, no help was to be found as the Scary Man opened the opposing door and crawled across the seat after him, knife in hand.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sorry for the delay, but I had some problems getting into the mood to write a regular Bones story again. And, I hope no one minds that I felt the need to spend some time with Zack in this chapter. He’s going to be missed. :-(