I’m trying my hand at basically writing a Bones episode. Of course, I can’t compete with the amazing writers on the show, but I’ll certainly have fun doing my best to stay true to the characters and the show. Hope you all enjoy reading!

Disclaimer – I don’t own Bones or write for Bones (though, you know, I’d take the job if they couldn’t find anyone else...) or have anything to do with Bones except I watch/adore the show.

--

“Whoa. Talk about your fixer-upper.”

“Agent Booth, are you sure about the structural integrity of this building?”

“Just watch your step. And try to grab on to something if the stairs give out.”

Agent Seeley Booth and Dr. Zack Addy slowly descended into the cellar. Their flashlight beams cut through the darkness revealing damp, crumbling walls and a rickety wooden staircase.

“This is very Grapes of Wrath,” commented Booth, as his flashlight picked up an old rocking chair and a couple empty mason jars.

“By my estimate, this foundation was laid in the mid 1800’s. The Grapes of Wrath is about the Dust Bowl in Oklahoma. Not only is your assessment chronologically inaccurate, it’s geographically inexact. We’re in the wrong region of the country.”

“You know what, Zack? There’s a reason I like to take Bones with me and leave you in the lab.”

“Yes, I know. Angela says it’s because you find her sexually alluring.”

“Okay. New rule. No talking.”

“But Agent Booth, how will I – ”

“I said no talking.”

“Yes, but – ”

“Zack, do you have a gun?”

“No, but – ”

“Exactly. Now shut it.”

A minute or so passed in silence as the two split up and searched the large cellar. Over in the corner, Zack suddenly halted and began making a strange distressed humming noise. Booth’s shoulders visibly tensed and he paused without turning around.

“Ok, that noise? That’s worse than talking, Zack. Quit it.”

The humming got louder. Booth whipped around. “Do you want me to-” He broke off mid-sentence, his gaze following the path of Zack’s flashlight to where a skeleton sat propped up in the corner. “Oh.”

He crossed the cellar to stand beside Zack and shine his own flashlight down on the body. “Any chance this has been down here since the 1800’s?”

Zack hummed. Booth shot him a murderous look. Zack hummed louder.

“Oh for the love of God, you can talk again.”

“Earlier I said the foundation was probably laid in the 1800’s, Agent Booth. I don’t feel at all comfortable suggesting that human remains have been down here since then.”

“Okay then. What do you feel comfortable suggesting?”

While Booth listened with an annoyed frown, Zack proceeded to relate his findings, his words coming out on top of the other almost too quickly to understand. “Well, the pelvis indicates a male adolescent, perhaps 14 to 18 years of age. Obvious bone trauma along the coronal suture suggests a head wound, while fractures here and here, to the left humerus and right radius, appear consistent with defensive injuries. Almost all of the flesh has either decomposed or been consumed, probably by local rodent populations. Hodgins will be able to provide an accurate time of death, but extensive weathering of the bone surface suggests the remains have been here for some time.”

“Some time? Like 1800’s some time?”

Zack moved his flashlight sideways, revealing a pair of Nike sneakers. “Not likely.”

--

Back at the Jeffersonian Institute, Dr. Temperance Brennan sat at her desk, impatiently tapping a pen against an open file folder.

Angela Montenegro appeared in the doorway. “So how’d it go?”

Brennan looked up. “The trial?”

“You were in court all morning. Yes, the trial. Did we get the bad guy?”

“I’m not certain. If the jury analyzes the evidence logically, it’s likely there will be a conviction.”

“But?”

“The defense attorney was very good. He seemed quite persuasive. I’m not sure the jury listened to what I was saying.”

“Hey, I’ll be the first one to admit that some of the stuff that comes out of your mouth sails right over my head. But give us non-geniuses some credit. Anyone could see that Corsen was guilty. And no well-spoken attorney can change that, no matter how hot he is.”

“Ange, I never said anything about the defense attorney being attractive.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s all over your face.”

Brennan’s expression was caught between indignation and embarrassment. “No, it isn’t.”

“Right.” Angela leaned forward on the desk, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “What’s his name?”

“What’s whose name?” Booth asked, striding into the office followed by a disheveled-looking Zack.

“Stephen Adams,” said Brennan, arching an eyebrow curiously at Zack’s appearance. “What happened to Zack?”

“Who is Stephen Adams?” asked Booth.

“The stairs collapsed,” said Zack, “ but I’m OK.”

“Brennan’s hot lawyer,” supplied Angela.

Brennan sent Angela a venomous glance. “He is not -my- lawyer. Nor did I admit that he was ‘hot.’” She looked over Zack doubtfully, taking in several cuts and scrapes. “You sure?”

“Zack’s fine,” said Booth, giving the younger man a hearty pat on the shoulder. “He popped right back up.” He turned back to Brennan. “If he’s not your lawyer, who is he?”

“Hey, if you have to use the word ‘admit’ you think he’s hot,” said Angela, eyes twinkling at the look on Booth’s face.

“Just because I prefer mental exertion to physical doesn’t mean I have poor dexterity,” defended Zack.

Booth looked away from Zack with a disgusted look on his face. “Yeah well, Agility Boy here made it impossible to move the remains until a team can clear the stairwell. That basement is from the 18th century so – ”

“19th century,” corrected Zack.

“Whatever. Point is, no bones for a couple hours, Bones.”

“How come Zack is covered in dust and you still look...” Brennan paused, “… well, how you always look?”

Booth’s grin became smug. “There are two kinds of men in this world, Bones. Those who know when to grab on to railings and those who don’t.”

Angela sniggered. Zack blushed. Brennan gave Booth a reluctant smile, which fled when he put his fists on her desk and leaned forward. “So who is this Adams?” he asked.

“The defense attorney from court this morning,” she said, leaning away defensively. “I was telling Angela that he did an effective job at making the evidence look circumspect and she interpreted that as somehow revealing my sexual attraction for him.”

“Wait, you were hitting on the attorney working for Corsen? The guy defending the alcoholic polygamist who murdered his wives?”

“I was not hitting on him,” said Brennan.

“Uhh, Bren, saying ‘my sexual attraction’ like that means you definitely wanted to jump him in the judge’s robe closet,” said Angela, though by this point neither Booth nor Brennan was paying attention to her.

“He’s working for an alcoholic polygamist, Bones.”

“Corsen isn’t being charged with polygamy. I don’t see how that’s a factor,” said Brennan.

“You don’t see how that’s a factor? What happened to the good old days of this-is-a-murder-investigation-so-let’s-all-be-professional?”

“Technically, this was a murder trial, Booth. Not an investigation.”

Booth leaned closer, pointing a finger in Brennan’s face. “Sidestepper,” he accused.

Zack and Angela stood side by side, watching the action, totally forgotten by the two partners. Dr. Jack Hodgins came up behind them. “Sidestepper?” he asked.

“I think he is accusing her of equivocation,” said Zack.

“Couple fight,” explained Angela.

“This should be good.” Hodgins folded his arms and joined the two in their observation of the bickering pair.

Brennan’s blue eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t have to ‘sidestep’ if you didn’t insist on deliberately provoking me with inaccuracies.”

“See! There! You’re doing it again.”

“I fail to see exactly what I am being accused of here. I had a cup of coffee with Stephen. You and I have coffee all the time. Doesn’t mean I’m hitting on you.”

“We’re partners. Besides, this isn’t about coffee. This is about you –” Booth paused and seemed to be searching for the right word, “ – cavorting with the bad guy.”

“I think you mean ‘consorting’ Booth.”

“Sidestepper!”

“Stephen is a lawyer, Booth. He does not commit crimes. I fail to see how he qualifies as a ‘bad guy’ just for doing his job.”

“He’s defending a murderer.”

“It’s not like they go out for coffee.”

“Aha! So you admit there’s something to getting coffee.”

“What? No, Booth, I meant – ” Brennan huffed out a frustrated breath. “I can’t talk to you right now.” She grabbed her coat and marched past him. “Call me when your team actually manages to get the remains to the lab, would you?”

Booth opened and closed his mouth, staring after her departing figure. Zack, Angela and Hodgins watched him fume in silence for several seconds before he realized he had an audience. “Don’t you have jobs?” he asked.

Hodgins gave an indignant start. “Hey, I just got here.”

“Great,” said Booth, putting both hands on his hips. “Then you won’t be so sad to go.” He turned his glare on Angela and Zack. “Out.”

Angela grinned, unperturbed by his anger. “Whatever you say.” She paused in the doorway. “You wouldn’t want to get coffee sometime, would you?”

“Out!”

--

Hope you all enjoyed reading. I appreciate any feedback and hope to write more when I get the chance. Don’t worry though, I will finish this – I hate when people leaving stories hanging and I have vowed never to do that to someone else.