Man, am I such a crazy liar or what? First I say that I'm writing this in a scripty kind of way because that way is the only way I can ensure I will write a lot quickly but my God, it's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry. And if this chapter is disappointing, I apologize in advance. I wrote it rather quickly just trying to actually move the story along. I mean, there's so many of these I've started and never finished and I'd really like to try and finish them all, so here's the second part. It's confusing, I know. But hopefully it's funny enough that that won't even matter. If not, well, just pretend it is so that I can feel good about myself.
NEXT DAY. ROYAL DINNER. SWEETS is seated at the table, gripping a newspaper with eyes wide and full of disbelief. HODGINS and ANGELA are with him.
SWEETS: I don't believe this, (setting the paper flat on the table).
ANGELA: (popping a fry into her mouth) What?
SWEETS: This! (pointing to newspaper article) This article! It's about Daisy. Someone wrote about Daisy.
HODGINS: What'd they say?
SWEETS: Just that she's dead and about how she died RIGHT HERE (motioning wildly to the counter they're seated at).
HODGINS: Here, let me see that, (reaches for paper and begins to read through it).
ANGELA: Read it out loud.
HODGINS: (mouth full) Okay. "Diners may not be as safe as you think. Yesterday, Daisy Wick, an intern at the Jeffersonian Institution was shot between the eyes (pauses and frowns sheepishly at Sweets) at the Royal Diner, a long-loved establishment in the heart of Washington, DC. Undisclosed sources say the young woman had it coming." Hmm.
SWEETS: (outraged) What is that supposed to mean?
ANGELA: It means she's in a better place, sweetie. (sympathetically places hand on top of Sweets, then turns to Hodgins and nudges him) Please continue.
HODGINS: (clears throat) "While the majority of the public might be able to name more than seventy two reasons why the young woman may have been gunned down, the only question left is which reason is it?, and who did the honors?"
SWEETS: They're making it sound like this was a good thing.
ANGELA: (feigning agreement) Right? It's...it's unbelievable. Keep reading, Jack.
HODGINS: "Though the DC Metro would prefer to let this one slide, they have confirmed their will to continue and pursue this killer, for the sake that they may attack again, and for the young woman's poor love-interest who was present at the scene during the killing. Sources say they saw the über-young man splattered with the tainted blood of his lover and then he ran out of the diner weeping tears of, amazingly, sorrow. DC Metro cop Peter Lawson says that they will further investigate this, since it appears that the young man may have been a minor." Oh boy.
SWEETS: (stunned into silence)...
ANGELA: (pats Sweets' hand) What else does it say?
HODGINS: "As for who did the honors of finishing off the young woman in this Wick-ed crime," Okay, wow. Bit too early for jokes, don't you think? Yikes. "only time will tell. Could it be the neighborhood sniper? The FBI is investigating and when I find out more (direct from the source) I will let you, the citizens of DC, know. Until then, stay smart, stay safe and don't trust the diners."
ANGELA: That's awful.
HODGINS: I know, (setting the paper down) Diners are no longer safe havens.
SWEETS: God. Who wrote that?
HODGINS: I don't know. (picks the paper up, examines it then sets it down) Uh-oh.
SWEETS: Uh-oh? What uh-oh?
HODGINS: (wincing) You'll never believe who.
HODGINS: (motions for Sweets to see for himself) Uh...
SWEETS: (grabs the paper then gasps) Hannah Burley?
ANGELA: (cringes and returns to her fries) Oh. Awkward, awkward, very awkward.
SWEETS:Hannah wrote this? Booth's stupid girlfriend? ! How can that even be?
HODGINS: Ah, that's tough man. (patting Sweets on the back) Being blindsided by your homeboy's booty call.
SWEETS: He's not my homeboy. And how does she even know about this?
ANGELA: Well, it's all over the news sweetie. You should flip a televison on sometime, it won't hurt you.
SWEETS: (sighing) I don't believe this. (folds the paper and sets it aside) Since when does Hannah write for the paper? I thought she just did...(mysteriously) different things.
HODGINS: Like covered things that actually mattered?
SWEETS: Kind of. (looks incredibly confused) I mean...she has no business here in the first place, and now she's indulging herself into my personal life? Like she hasn't intruded on our world enough already? How does she even know about me and Daisy?
ANGELA: Because you two were so sickingly sweet together everyone was meeting at the dentist's office. Word gets around.
SWEETS: Well, I don't like this. And I don't trust her. The "source" she must be getting this information from must be herself.
HODGINS: What, you think she's making all of this up?
SWEETS: I think she's pretending to be something she's not.
ANGELA: You mean hot?
HODGINS: She was playing that card pretty well, if you ask me.
ANGELA: She was. Like a magician.
SWEETS: No, I mean, there's no-one she could get this information from. I know Booth wouldn't rat me out like this. And Dr. Brennan especially wouldn't. They care about me. So obviously the only person she could have gotten the deets from was from herself, ergo, she did it.
HODGINS: She...killed Daisy?
ANGELA: Wait, I thought Daisy killed herself.
SWEETS: How could you even think that?
ANGELA: Well, that's what I heard from Brennan. She said that she heard from Booth who said to her that Daisy annoyed herself to death, therefore commiting suicide accidently. (at Sweets' expression) But that's just what Brennan told me.
SWEETS: Daisy did not kill herself, okay? Hannah killed her.
HODGINS: Okay, before we go making wild accusations, bud, let's just stop and think for a second okay? You're riled up. You're upset, we know that. Your head's a little bit foggy right now. You're delusional. You're angry. You're pointing fingers to try and make sense of this all because you don't want to accept it.
ANGELA: Since when have you been a therapist?
HODGINS: Well, ya know, Sweets is incapable at the moment so someone's gotta do the job.
ANGELA: Aw. You're so cute.
HODGINS and ANGELA giggle and begin to kiss eachother. After a second, the kiss becomes dangerously passionate. SWEETS is both irritated and uncomfortbale. SWEETS suddenly claps his hands to get them to focus.
Startled, ANGELA and HODGINS pull away from eachother and turn to SWEETS with confused expressions.
SWEETS: What? WHAT? Oh my God, I'm going to murder you. That's what.
HODGINS: Hey, whoa. (pointing at Sweets, speaking more to Angela than anyone else) That's a confession. That's a confession! That's a threat and a premature confession. Ange, are you getting this?
ANGELA: Sure am, babe. (takes another bite of fries, obviously not caring)
SWEETS: God, you guys are idiots.
ANGELA: (with mouth full) Hey! No need to call us names, okay? We didn't do anything wrong. It's not like WE killed anybody.
HODGINS: Yeah, or threatened to.
SWEETS: If you don't shut up, Hodgins, I swear to God...
HODGINS puts his hands up in surrender, knowing that SWEETS is serious (although not much of a threat) and he has to stick around to watch his baby grow up. It's not a risk he's willing to take, really.
SWEETS: Jesus. What is wrong with the people I hang out with?
ANGELA: Well, for starters, your homeboy doesn't give a flying fadoodle that your girlfriend's dead.
SWEETS: For the last time, he's not my homeboy! (groans) UGH! You know what, fine! I guess I'm just going to have to handle this myself. (places hands firmly on counter top and pushes himself up into a standing position)
HODGINS: Handle what?
HODGINS: No way man, she's too much of a woman for you!
SWEETS: What? No! Not like that! I mean, the Hannah situation. I know she's the sniper, I just know it. And I need to get me some proof.
ANGELA: So, you're going to kill her? Hold on, Sweets. Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself?
SWEETS: (exasperated) Who said anything about killing?
ANGELA: Well, I thought you did 'cause of the whole...you know...
HODGINS: Yeah, the whole Daisy thing. You were kind of the first one to bring it up, anyway.
SWEETS: Oh. Well, excuse me for not being able to get over it so quickly! Unlike you guys, I actually have feelings. Now, if you're not gonna help me, then just say so, and I'll do it myself.
ANGELA: What exactly is it that you plan on doing, sweetie?
HODGINS: Yeah. If this is some sort of revenge plot, you gotta make sure you know what you're doing, so you do it right.
SWEETS: I just want to prove to everyone that Hannah's not who she says she is. I bet that isn't even her real name. Hannah! That's a stupid name!
ANGELA: (offended) Hey! I have a cousin named Hannah.
SWEETS: Oh my God, I don't care!
HODGINS: Okay, look, my brudda. (ignoring Sweets' confused look) If you want us to help you, you gotta move past this anger faze and cooperate.
HODGINS: Now, Ange and I, would be glad to help you.
ANGELA: Yeah. God, as much as Hannah is hot, I really, really kind of hate her.
ANGELA: I mean, two against one, that's fine. But now there's three of us, and we're all fighting for the same man.
SWEETS: (sharing a look with Hodgins) What are you talking about?
ANGELA: I mean...Brennan and Booth...okay. Then me and Booth. That's two possible scenarios. But now there's three of us? Brennan, me and Hannah? That just throws off the equilibrium of the lab. It doesn't make sense.
HODGINS: Wait, what do you mean you?
SWEETS: And what about Cam?
ANGELA: Oh, please, Hodgie. Like you've never noticed. And Cam, she's cute. But Booth tried that once and it didn't work out. I'm not so worried about her.
SWEETS: Okay. As much as this conversation is...intriguing...I think we might have wandered off the topic a little bit?
HODGINS: (angrily) Yeah, you think?
ANGELA: (moving on) If you're trying to show Hannah for who she really is, then you're going to need a good plan. And I think I know how we're gonna do this.
ANGELA: Well, for starters. This scheme needs a name.
HODGINS: Operation HANNAH!
ANGELA: No, Hodgins. I mean a real name. A cool one. One that's mysterious and inconspicuous.
SWEETS: Operation cheese?
ANGELA: Okay, you're obviously not getting this. We're going with Operation SLUT.
ANGELA: Yeah. S-L-U-T. Show Loser Up Twice. SLUT.
HODGINS: Show Loser Up Twice?
SWEETS: What does that even mean?
ANGELA: It means, we're showing that loser up twice! Obviously. God, men are such idiots.
SWEETS: What do you mean we're showing that loser up twice?
ANGELA: Well, the first time for not being who she is and the second time for showing her that she's obviously not good enough for someone like Booth. I mean, I'm right, aren't I? Am I right?
SWEETS: What? No. I don't like that plan.
HODGINS: (seething enthusiasticly) How about Operation ANGELA ONLY LOVES HODGINS?
ANGELA: Oh, relax. We're having a Goddamn baby. I'm stuck with you whether I like it or not.
SWEETS: (trying to stay on topic) Uh, how about Operation HIS?
HODGINS: HIS? What does that stand for?
SWEETS: Hannah Is Sniper.
ANGELA: Tsk. Uh, no. We don't know that yet, that's what we're trying to figure out. Now, you can't jump ahead of yourself like that. You haven't proven that yet. It's not a good plan. What is a good plan, though, I think, is to use names to describe Hannah, just so that we're clear we know what we're talking about.
SWEETS: Oh, I got one. Blonde.
HODGINS: You already said that one.
ANGELA: No, I mean...SLUT, WHORE, CANTANKEROUS BITCH, MANSTEALER. That kind of thing.
SWEETS: Oh, I think I got one. SNIPER!
ANGELA: Okay, we're going with WHORE. Do with it what you will.
SWEETS: We hope...
SWEETS: ...oranges...we hope oranges R edible.
HODGINS: We hope our...reputations...
SWEETS: We hope our reputations excite!
HODGINS: We hope...we hope? Oranges...
SWEETS: We hope oranges really edible.
ANGELA: What Hannah only really expects. Like, not being found out.
SWEETS: Nah, I don't know about that one.
HODGINS: Yeah, that's stupid.
ANGELA: Well, Hannah only really exaggerates. Well, Hannah obviously really exists. Why Hannah obviously really exaggerates! What Hannah obviously really expects! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Dear Lord! SHUT THE HELL UP! I don't care anymore.
SWEETS and HODGINS blink in shock, taken aback just as much as the rest of the diner patrons are for the sudden anger.
ANGELA: We're sticking with WHORE, and it doesn't have any meaning because you guys are idiots. NOW, I'm going to go take a leak. (standing) You guys, are going to order me a burger, the biggest pickle on this side of the country, and then we're going to the park and watch the pretty birdies. (leaves without leaving room to respond)
HODGINS: (to SWEETS' anxious look) Pregnancy hormones. You get used to them.
BRENNAN's office at the Jeffersonian. BRENNAN is behind her desk, doing some paperwork when BOOTH comes in. He strides over to her desk and takes a seat on top of it, ignorantly ruining her papers.
BRENNAN: (annoyed) Booth.
BOOTH: Hey, Bones.
BRENNAN: What do you want? I'm busy.
BOOTH: Whoa. Why so snippy, mrs?
BRENNAN: I'm not snippy. I'm busy. Now what do you want? I really need to get back to work, since apparently I'm the only one who even cares enough to bother anymore.
BOOTH: Uh...does this mean you're still mad at me about yesterday?
BRENNAN: I'm not just mad at you. I'm mad at everyone who believes the same thing you do. And just for the record, I'm not mad.
BOOTH: You just said you were.
BRENNAN: I was speaking hypothetical. If I was actually upset at you, that would be the reason why.
BOOTH: Why, because I said that Daisy deserved what she got?
BRENNAN: There are plenty of reasons why, Booth. I find it absurd I even have to remind them to you. Now if you will excuse me, please. Sweets is coming by in an hour and I really need to get back to solving this case. And you're messing up my papers...
BOOTH: Oh, sorry. (gets up clumsily)
BRENNAN: Apology accepted. Now, please. If you're not going to be of help just get out of here. We can talk later.
BOOTH: Wait, just to clarify: does that whole apology accepted thing count for everything, or just right now?
BRENNAN: GET OUT.
BOOTH: Okay, fine. Fine. If you need something just call me. Or...not. I'm going out with Hannah in a bit, so you know. Don't really wanna be interuppted with that whole thing going on. Unless, of course...you really...need something...then yeah, you know. Go ahead and give me a call. Or text me. Or just leave a message 'cause I probably won't answer, anyway.
BRENNAN: (throws boot)
BOOTH: All right! All right, I'm going! Just...wait. I just wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday. I feel like you had a pretty bad day and I know I did something that bothered you, so sorry. I honestly mean that.
BRENNAN: I'm not the one you should be apologizing to.
BRENNAN: I'll give you a hint. Your homeboy.
BOOTH: Sweets? What does he have to do with any of this?
BRENNAN: What does he have to...what? Booth, he's the main character in this plot! How do you not understand that?
BOOTH: Well, I thought we were the main characters...
BRENNAN: (sigh) Sweets' lover was murdered right in front of him. This is the third time that this has happened that we're aware of, and it's been really tough on him but you're not helping him at all. I really need to get this case solved but without anyone's help it's hard. You promised me you were gonna get serious about this case but now I see that that isn't going to happen, so now it's up to me. So goodbye. Don't bother calling me. I won't answer.
BRENNAN: (hollering for) GEORGE!
BOOTH: George? Who's...George...?
GEORGE, a very tall, very wide, very scary looking African American man with muscles bigger than the state of Texas and eyes menacing as death, strides into the office. BOOTH, shocked, stares at the man in awe and in fear. BRENNAN simply looks annoyed.
BRENNAN: George, please get Agent Booth out of here.
BOOTH: George? You got a bodyguard? !
BRENNAN: I did. Now, no more questions. (gets back to work)
BOOTH: Why in the world did you get a bodyguard? ! Bones? I told you this Daisy thing was going to blow over! Nobody killed her, she killed herself. You've got nothing to worry about. This bodyguard is for that reason, isn't he? You're not trying to get rid of me, are you? Bones?
GEORGE: (deep voice) Are you deaf, fool? You heard the woman. No more questions.
GEORGE grabs BOOTH by the front of his shirt and lifts him up as if he were a feather. He begins to drag the agent out of the office while Brennan continues to do her work. BOOTH continues to holler incomprehensively and struggles to get away. Either he's baffled that BRENNAN would do such a thing to him, can't get enough air to breathe or both. At this point, BRENNAN doesn't even care anymore.
At BOOTH's apartment. BOOTH is sitting on the couch, bruised and battered. There is a neckbrace around his neck and he is holding an icepack to his head. HANNAH comes into the room with a steaming bowl of soup, looking sympathetic.
HANNAH: Here, babe. Here's your soup.
BOOTH: (sighs, and sets the icepack on the coffee table) Thanks, Hannah.
HANNAH: No problem. (sets the bowl in his lap and sits down beside him, rubbing his back) Now, tell me again what happened?
BOOTH: I told you, Hannah. Bones sicked a mad man on me! He could have killed me, you know? And all Bones would care about was if Sweets was okay. God, I hate that kid. He's such an idiot. (seethes in pain and grabs his neck) Ow.
HANNAH: Sweets? But, I thought he was your homeboy?
BOOTH: Yeah, well, he's turned Bones against me, and all because he's in tune with his "emotions" and I'm not. What does that even mean? That means nothing to me.
HANNAH: That's 'cause you're a real man, baby.
BOOTH: Damn straight I'm a real man! And real men don't cry over spilled milk, or in this case spilled guts. Not when it's from a person like Daisy Wick. Trivial situation, I'm telling you. And he makes it out to be the end of the world, like he actually even cared about her. You're lucky you never met the girl.
HANNAH: Well, Sweets seemed like a nice guy when I met him. Real sweet.
BOOTH: Nah, it's just false advertising. The kid's a real weirdo. You know, he always tries to open up to me about stupid stuff, and then he wants me to tell him about my past. Like all that really matters now. Oh, and worse? He always wants to hug me. It's like, back off buddy! I don't roll that way. And even if I did, at that age, it would not be legal. You know what I'm saying? (takes a spoonful of soup)
HANNAH: (pretending to) Uh, yeah.
BOOTH: What's a 12 year old doing working at the FBI, anyway?
HANNAH: I thought he was 24?
BOOTH: No, he's 12. He says he's 24 but I know the truth. He just doubled his age to make himself look better. Earn more respect. Nobody respects that kid anyway. The only thing he's good for is paying the bill.
HANNAH: That sounds kind of...harsh. But whatever. Listen, why don't you eat that delicious soup of yours and then we can talk more about your friend, yes?
BOOTH: Why do you want to talk about him?
HANNAH: Because, I'm a journalist. I want to know everything!
HANNAH: Okay, great! You finish that up and I'll go grab my notepad!
BOOTH: Notepad? You're going to write this all down?
HANNAH: Yeah, but don't worry. I'm not using it for anything other than for personal reasons. I just want to really know my boyfriend's friends, you know what I'm saying? I don't have that great of a memory so that's what I need the notepad for.
BOOTH: Right, right. Okay. As long as you don't write about him or anything. If Bones knew what was going on, she'd have us both killed.
HANNAH is confused. The night before, BOOTH had given her permission to write about his friend's loss. Then again, once she thought of it, they were in the middle of having sex. He probably didn't know what in the world he was saying.
HANNAH: Oh, right. About that...
BOOTH: Hey, have you seen the paper? I want to catch up on some things before we get started.
HANNAH: Uh, no. I haven't seen...
BOOTH: Oh, here it is. Nevermind, (grabbing at the paper on the table) it's right in front of me. I got it.
HANNAH: (panicked) No, I got it! (clumsily knocks his bowl of soup over, on purpose and ruins the paper)
HANNAH: Oh my God, baby! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. (really did)
BOOTH: (trying to hide his annoyance) It's okay, Hannah. Accidents happen.
HANNAH: No, I'm sorry. I ruined your soup. Oh, God. Here, let me help you. (grabs the bowl and a napkin and starts wiping it up) I'll make you some more right now, I promise.
BOOTH: It's okay, baby. I'm not so hungry anymore.
HANNAH: You're sure?
BOOTH: (suspiciously) Yeah, I think I'm gonna just go lay down and mast...massage...massage my head. My head head not my...yeah. There's just a lot of things I got on my mind, you know. Lots to think about. Things at work, you know. Sweets and Bones and all that...jazz.
HANNAH: If you're sure.
BOOTH: I am, I am. I'll just...I'll be going then.
HANNAH: You want me to come with you?
BOOTH: No, that's all right. You stay here and clean up. I'll meet you at the diner tonight. (kisses her on the head and goes into his room) Love ya. Bye, (shuts the door)
HANNAH silently agrees. She picks up the soup and tosses the newspaper in the trash, hoping to God that her boytoy doesn't hear about her article. Just then, she hears a loud noise coming from BOOTH's room. She rushes in and finds his window broken. The hole in the glass fits the silhouette of a man with a rifle. Beneath the blanket of broken glass lies a note. HANNAH rushes over and grabs it. It reads:
Don't stop me.
HANNAH drops the note and quickly looks out the window, but all she manages to catch is the shadow of the man she pretends to love turning the corner. Knowing he's about to kill someone for revenge, she grabs her notepad and writes this down.
HANNAH: This is going to make such a juicy story.
Then, HANNAH pops the notepad into her purse and rushes out of the apartment to try and witness the events.
Oh, Booth. That snarky bastard. Someone is going to die, but who? Is Hannah really the sniper or is it Booth? Oh, Dear God. This story will contain so many twists it will be like an extreme version of an M. Night Shyamalan film. Will Sweets ever get the justice he deserves? Will Brennan get a lead in this case? And most importantly, are diners really dine-and-die guaranteed? Find out on the next edition of The Death in the Diner!