Prologue
Cam stood tentatively in the doorway of Angela's office, not wanting to disturb her. It was obvious that she was in the middle of a drawing, but the matter that brought Cam to her office was important. Then again, it was always important if either of them actually felt the need to speak face to face.
"Angela?"
Angela looked up from her paper, only to look back down. "Yes?" she replied, sounding a bit annoyed.
"I was curious to know if Dr. Goodman stopped by today, to introduce you to the new anthropologist. Dr. Allison Blanche?"
Setting her pencil down, Angela looked at Cam. "No, Goodman never mentioned anything to me," she said with a sigh, shaking her head. She then stood up, grabbing a few of her things, ready to avoid the impending doom of the subject at hand. "Well, I'm done for the day. I'm going home."
Cam backed out of the doorway, understanding that Angela didn't want to discuss it with her. "Goodnight, Angela."
She received no reply.
Shrugging her shoulders, Cam headed back towards her office. She was trying her hardest, and if the artist didn't like her despite those efforts, then that was one less thing to worry about.
XXXXX
"Miss Montenegro! Miss Montenegro!"
Angela turned to face the source of the sound that was now echoing throughout the entire parking garage. She found the source, but didn't recognize the young woman walking straight towards her.
"Miss Montenegro, I'm glad I caught up to you." The woman offered her hand. "It's an honor."
In an attempt to be polite, Angela slapped on a fake smile. "And to whom do I owe the pleasure?"
"Allison Blanche. Doctor," she added modestly
"Ah yes. My boss told me about you."
"Oh really?" Dr. Blanche asked with one of those humble 'oh, she shouldn't have' laughs.
Angela inwardly rolled her eyes, and outwardly shrugged. "Well, she told me you were here," she said, putting an end to her short-lived attempt to hide that she really didn't care.
Dr. Blanche's smile faltered the tiniest bit, but recovered quickly. "Yes, well, Dr. Goodman was kind enough to give me a tour of the forensics division. We walked past your office, and I wanted to introduce myself, but Dr. Goodman told me it wasn't a good time."
Angela smiled a noticeably fake smile. "You know, Goodman was right. And now really isn't a great time, either. I apologize, Dr….?"
"Blanche. But please, it's Allison."
"Allison. I have somewhere I need to be," Angela stated, continuing her walk to her car.
From behind, Dr. Blanche was obviously trying to make it seem like she didn't feel blown off. "Of course, Miss Montenegro. I understand you must be busy."
Angela silently got into her car and drove home, hating this woman already.
Dr. Blanche had only the name of the woman she was replacing, only the knowledge that could be drawn from the books and interviews. She had no clue what kind of people she'd be working with, or what they'd all been through together. And she hadn't the slightest idea that each and every one of them would hate her from day one. Why? Because Allison Blanche was not Temperance Brennan.
After a year and a half, it was apparent that there needed to be a new forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian. Angela was sure that Hodgins and Zack would agree with her that they knew it was time…but they just didn't like the idea.
A new forensic anthropologist also meant that soon after, the FBI would begin giving them cases again, which meant a new agent. They hated thinking about it, drilling it into their minds that no, it wasn't all some terrible dream.
This was their reality.
Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth were gone.
Dead.
Forever.
Tazara Werner sat on the edge of the old, moldy spring mattress, gritting her teeth as hot tears ran down her cheeks in her desperate attempt to not make a sound. Strands of her dark brown hair clung to her sweaty forehead, dirt streaks covering her face from all the tears.
Weston Moore knelt on the dirt-covered floor in front of her, giving all his concentration to his best friend's injured leg. He shushed her gently when she let out a small whimper.
"I know it hurts…" he whispered as he continued to remove the blade from where it was embedded a few inches above her knee. "I know…"
The final pull yanked the sob from Tazara's chest that she had been trying so hard to suppress. Weston quickly got up and put the blade in the dirty sink behind him and grabbed the old rag he had sitting on he mattress next to her, pressing it to her leg and keeping pressure applied.
"Better?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I'm gonna pass out," Tazara said, letting out another involuntary sob.
"Don't fight it," he told her. "I'll be here when you wake up."
But she was out cold before he finished his sentence. Weston scooted her back onto the mattress, making sure he kept the pressure on her thigh. Holding the gauze between his teeth, he positioned himself to dress her leg. Once he did the best job he could with their limited supplies, he laid himself next to her, a fair two feet between them.
It had been an excruciatingly long day, and he'd come so close to losing her. Taking a long glance at his partner, Weston leaned over and pressed a light kiss to her temple. She was passed out; she'd never know.
"I'll be here when you wake up," he reassured her. "Sleep well, Bones."
Please review and let me know what you think and if I should continue. Thanks. –JF