Unnaturally Interrupted

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: Once more for old time's sake, and with uber feeling…I still don't own anything related to Bones, etc. I wish I did. But even if I did, I probably wouldn't tell you all so…yeah, anyway, to avoid another class Lesera128 tangent, on with the show.

Summary: Eight months pregnant, Dr. Temperance Brennan is brutally attacked and her unborn baby is literally ripped away from her by an unknown assailant. Barely surviving, she vows to not only search for her child, but also for the answer to the question of who stole her baby & why. AU. Set post 6x23-"The Change in the Game" but before 7x01-"The Memories in the Shallow Grave."

Author's Note: Three years ago, when the iconic episode "The Change in the Game" aired, I purposely tried to stay out of those overcrowded and soon overtly cliché fan fic waters. However, now that some time and distance have passed, and inspired by a real-life headline I read, I believe it is time for me to throw my post season 6 finale offering into the ring for your perusal and hopeful enjoyment.


Glancing at the wrist watch that was worn for mere utility's sake, the attentive pair of dark eyes blinked several times while waiting for the quarry. The darkness of late afternoon thunderstorm had caused a muggy mistiness to fall across the hustle and bustle of the nation's capital city. While, according to the time that shown on the hour hand of the wrist watch in question, there was still several hours of daylight remaining, the storm had eroded what feeble rays of light that had been offered by the sun. None of the usual lightening scattered across the sky in an attempt to compensate for the dark gloominess that choked its inky fingers across DC's skyline. Instead, grey threatened to subsume everything as people tried to make the best of completing their last few afternoon errands while it intermittently poured.

For the person who stood in the shadows awaiting their prey, the storm had offered a tantalizing opportunity that was too good to pass up. For once, the weather forecasters *had* gotten it right. And that combined with the fact that the highly coveted quarry had *finally* arrived at her own home all *alone* made this too tantalizing an opportunity to pass up. After all, if they weren't careful, their quarry was close enough to term that she might go into labor and deliver somewhere where both she and her baby would be out of their grasp. And, then, all the months spent watching and planning and waiting for the perfect opportunity to take their prize would have been wasted.

One thing that pregnancy had done, the watcher noted, had changed Dr. Temperance Brennan in more ways than even she would have liked to admit. Previously, to say the good forensic anthropologist was an erratic nightowl would've been putting it kind. She kept odd hours both because of the nature of her work and by her own choice. Those factors alone had made her a difficult target. However, since becoming pregnant, and since entering into some type of quasi formalized relationship with the baby's father, whether by choice or necessity, Brennan's schedule had become much more regimented. And that regimentation had most likely made what the watcher hoped would occur this day finally possible.

When her silver Mercedes sedan finally lumbered up in front of the side street that she always parked her car at when she was going home to her Georgetown loft—something that was rarer and rarer these days given how infrequently she was their in favor of her partner's more Spartan apartment—the watcher knew the time had *finally* come. All the intelligence said she was completely alone, completely unaware, and completely unprepared for any attack from any quarter.

Approximately six minutes after the forensic anthropologist parallel parked her car, the headlights finally flicked off and the engine shutoff with a silky rumble fading away to nothingness. A few seconds after that, her bulky form unmistakable, Brennan emerged from her car. A dark green umbrella embossed with the Jeffersonian Institute's name and emblem emblazoned for all to see soon covered the pregnant woman's person. With a grunt that was heard even at the distance between them, Brennan reached back into the car to retrieve her normal messenger bag as well as several large paper shopping bags that displayed the 'Babies R' Us' logo printed on the side.

The watcher knew they would only have a limited amount of time to get Brennan's attention before she entered the view of the loft's security camera range. Taking a breath, and making certain that their yells would be loud enough so that Brennan would be able to hear, the watcher threw their body out of the shadows and onto the drenched cement of the public sidewalk. Thrashing their body on the ground while emitting painful shrieks that began to make several nearby dogs howl, the watcher kept a firm grip on the sharp blade that was cloaked in the palm of their gloved hand.

It took only a minute before it was over.

As expected, upon hearing the screams, Brennan had dropped her shopping bags on the wet cement on the side of her car and gone to investigate. A short time after that, she was squatting down next to the thrashing individual, fumbling for her cell phone to call 911 for whom she thought was an epileptic having a fit. In reality, just before she was about to hit 'send' the thrashing stopped, there was a muffled scuffling, a glint of silver caught her eye before *she* was the one to cry out in pain.

Her last coherent thought was, as she fell to the cement, how angry her partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, was going to be at what she had, somehow, allowed to happen to not only herself but their baby.


Author's Note - continued: Greetings and salutations to the intrepid souls that, for whatever reason, have chosen to read this prologue. For those of you familiar with my own work, you may recall that it has been quite some time since ne'er a peep was heard from the likes of loquacious ole me. Given that long absence, some may ask some of these following questions:

A.) Don't you have a half dozen or more unfinished stories that you've kept me cruelly waiting for an update for almost a year or more? Answer: Yes.

B.) Why should I read this story? Won't you do the same thing to me *again*? Answer: Ummm. I hope not. But I can't say for certain either way. This story is going to be formatted in the genre of my previous work "To Come Through" a la shorter chapters (ranging from about 500-1000 words) but chapters posted more frequently. I had a lot of fun with that format and have been looking for something else that would fit that format. I believe this tale and it's tricky plot will serve nicely. So, bottom line in answer to that question, you'll either read it and have faith in me or not. Either way, I'm good.

C.) Why did you start another new story when you have so many old ones unfinished? Answer: I needed a fresh start that will hopefully allow me to ease into a writer's mindset with the hopes I will get my mojo and muse up to par with the goals of working towards completing those other stories in the near future.

D.) Are you ever going to finish _INSERT STORY TITLE HERE_? Answer: Yes. Followup question: When? Answer: No clue. But I never have left a story unfinished. It once took me five years to come back to a Harry Potter fan fic I had left unfinished, but I eventually came back and wrapped it up, and so to will I do so with all my other stories.

E.) How are you? Answer: Super. Thanks for asking.

Anyway, as this note has now most likely gone on longer than the actual prologue, I shall now draw it to a close by simply saying thanks for reading and stay tuned for further updates in the very near future.~