Over a year ago, I started writing a story called 'Sooner Surrender'.
Mid-way through, I suffered a slight nervous breakdown. Rather than take time off, I powered through, and it showed in my writing. So now, in my current state, I have decided to re-write it.
Starts out in season 5
Pretty the World.
Disclaimer: I do not own BONES, nor any of the characters. I do own Starbuck, Ripley and Conners.
"Happy Halloween Boo."
Six year old Lance Delaney took a fun sized candy bar from his pocket and offered it to the small child before him. The little girl in front of him stared at the small Snickers bar for a moment and looked up at him.
"It's good," he attempted to assure her. "Candy."
Boo took the candy and stared at it some more. She stuffed it in her mouth as soon as she could. Her real name was Starbuck, but he called her Boo. It had started when she was a baby and he was three, and he had yet to break the habit. She was probably his sister, because even at his tender age, Lance knew that his mother wouldn't take in another child out of the kindness of her heart. Both children had curly dark hair, but her skin was darker and his eyes were brown while hers were a bright green.
No one but the residents of 1408 Haddonfield Road knew that Boo existed. It was like the younger child was a ghost. She never left the house, never spoke and often disappeared for hours on end. Boo could fold herself up really small and hide anywhere. Lance would find her folded under his bed or inside a cabinet, her eyes darting to and fro, taking in everything around her.
If she ever talked, Lance knew she would have a lot to say.
He went to school, but he didn't have any friends. He found companionship in books, some he brought home and read to Boo. He didn't know if she understood any of it, but she enjoyed nearing him talk. That he knew.
If she was his sister, then they had the same mother. Lance knew his father, though. He lived with them sometimes, but Lance would rather that he stayed away. Lance had no memories of a man that claimed to be Boo's father. He filled that role in a way. After all, he loved her, made sure she ate, changed her, read to her and sometimes hid her so their mother would go after him instead.
Their mother got angry at the drop of a hat. She drank a lot and when she was in a rage, she would take it out on whichever of her children she could find. Over the years, both children had suffered, but Boo got it worse simply because she was home more.
The sounds of footsteps on the steps made both children jump. Lance grabbed his sister and shoved her into the closet. He grabbed a picture book and pretended to read it.
The door creaked open and he shut his eyes.
It wasn't their mother.
Lance recognized her. It was a social worker that had come to his school yesterday. He had talked to her. He had mentioned his mother drinking a lot and getting mad,
Social workers took kids away from their homes. It happened a lot on their street.
Of course, this wasn't a bad thing. They were escaping to a better home, where they fed and loved you. Boo would learn to talk, read, smile. She would be a real kid.
Both of them would be.
The envelope sat on his desk, taunting him.
Until a month ago, Lance Sweets had believed the memories (what little he had) of his half sister were the imaginings of a only child in a bad place. His parents had never mentioned that she existed. Yet again, he had lived in what was basically an orphanage for six weeks before they took him in. When he grew older and started to study psychology, Sweets ended up self diagnosing. His sister wasn't his sister, he had imagined her so he could have someone to share the horrors of home with. It explained why she never left the house or talked back.
But as August had come to a close, he had gotten a box in the mail. The residents of his childhood home had tracked him down and mailed him a box of things left over from his childhood. After digging out paintings, toys, report cards and a blanket, he had found a picture at the bottom. It of himself at about five, holding a toddler in his arms. On the back, in the large, sloppy print of a child were the words 'me and boo'.
As soon as he could, Sweets had started pulling strings and calling in favors so he could find her. Not that he had much to go on. All he knew was that she would be 21 now. And now, it seemed that she had been found. And from the look of the envelope on his desk, she was alive and well, as it was stuffed with papers. Sweets had yet to read any of them. All he had done was open the envelope and stare. The agent he had asked to help him assured that she would get everything she could.
Now that it was here, Sweets couldn't bring himself to open it. She was probably alive and well, maybe even well adjusted. But if she had gone to a bad home, or even if she just hadn't been able to fully move past their childhood, she could be worse. A million possibilities ran through his mind. Drug addict and hooker were the best situations. Then, of course, there was dead.
But he had to know. And if she was alive, he would make sure he made up for not being there.
Taking a deep breath, Sweets slid the first paper out.
Note 2: More tomorrow, I swear. I have most of that typed out. I just wanted to get this up.