(Untitled)

[howto_submit]

"Oh, rats," he muttered, sensible shoes pausing at the bottom of the stairs. Hefting her laundry basket under one arm, Nicki bent down and snatched up the fallen bra, feminine and lacy and that no one would see her wear, now that she was practically a widow. She wasn't wearing her ring, and for the first time since she'd taken it off two weeks

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[thebonelady]

Screaming wasn't at the top of Temperance Brennan's list, as far as strange things she'd heard in the compound. It was actually relatively common, though no longer seemed to indicate the possibility of public coitus.

More likely, it signaled danger, work, or someone's spotting of the tarantula that infrequently appeared in strange places.

She frowned. It appeared that since Diana's birth, she'd become too lax in carrying her gun. Thankfully, now that she was no longer pregnant, any need for lethal force could be satisfied with manual self defense. Tucking a pair of gloves in her pocket, she headed for the source of the screaming, only to be nearly trampled by a woman on the stairs.

"Calm down," she said. "I'm a professional."

[howto_submit]

She shrieked again, rearing back and practically tumbling right back down the way she'd come.

"What?" she panted distractedly, light-headed with adrenaline, "A professional what?"

[thebonelady]

"A professional forensic anthropologist," she said, since it was only right to be specific about things. "But I believe I qualify as having a background in--" Temperance realized she had as little to qualify this kind of work than Booth ever had with the squints. "I've worked with the FBI."

[howto_submit]

Nicki Grant had learned long ago to be suspicious of law enforcement, especially the FBI. She stiffened, squared her shoulders, and decided that this woman must know something. The FBI had been the ones who started this whole mess.

"You tell me why my father's body is down there, if you know so much."

[speakscanadian]

Only days ago had Ray been speaking to Vimes about how quiet the island was on the criminal-front and then, boom, everything turns upside down and suddenly the clinics are full of patients and people are dead. 'Be careful what you wish for' had never been so apt as it was right now.

So Ray thought that that was it, that the crazy behaviour was over for the next little while. Obviously that had been hopeful thinking, considering the almighty scream and the woman running up the stairs towards him.

"Woah woah woah, calm down." He put out his hands to slow her down, stop her from tripping or falling right in front of him. He checked to make sure no-one else was coming up behind her, chasing her. "Calm down, okay? What's the problem?"

[howto_submit]

She'd stopped screaming, at least, but the fear turned quickly into frustration. Into a kind of hysterical anger at him, a stranger, being so presumptuous.

"No," she said stubbornly, "No, I won't calm down. He's dead. He's down there and he's dead. He shouldn't be here, someone had to have put him here. Who would've done such a thing?"

[speakscanadian]

At hearing the word "dead" the woman in front of Ray turned from found a red sock in with her white lingerie to found a body in the basement.

There were only four people who slept down there and Asher was one of them but as much as Ray wanted to ask who was dead, he needed to make sure there wasn't any more immediate danger. "Okay, alright. Did you see anyone else down there right now?"

[howto_submit]

"What? No. No, there's no one down there. He's propped up with the linens," she said, but she was already marching back down the stairs, tired of his questions because they weren't doing anything. They weren't fixing things and they certainly weren't bringing her papa back.

[stoicsidekick]

As far as Bush was concerned, it had been a perfectly normal day thus far. He had been in the kitchen, and had just been picking up at apple from the careful stack kept on the counter when the scream suddenly came up from the basement. Some instinct kicked in - that of an officer, or a member of the IPD, or merely a gentleman - and a second later he had dropped the apple and was hurrying to the stairs to see what had happened.

He all but charged into the still screaming Nicki Grant halfway down the basement stairs. "Whoa there-" he grabbed her arm to stop both of them from tumbling down the rest of the way- "calm yourself. Calm yourself. What's going on here?"

[howto_submit]

In that moment, she wasn't sure she'd ever been so relieved to see a familiar face. He wasn't a friend, maybe not quite, but Nicki Grant wasn't the type of woman to have friends. Back home had family and acquaintances and enemies, and she had a man who might have loved her, only he thought she was someone else entirely.

But right then, even just an acquaintance was close enough to matter, and she took hold of his wrist, turning to pull him back down the stairs with her. "You have come with me," she said, the only explanation she would give.

[stoicsidekick]

"Good Christ, woman what are you going on about?" But she had her hand around his wrist and was already dragging him down the stairs. Bush could only follow, even more baffled than he had been when the screaming had started up. With some women he would have chalked it up to hysteria, but while Nicki might have her abrasive moments, she seemed sensible enough to him. "Mrs. Grant, if there's something going on here..."

[howto_submit]

She tugged him around the corner, coming to an abrupt stop with the Prophet in his hat and slippers staring unseeing at the two of them, and even though she'd seen it once before, her heart lept up into her throat.

"There," she said, trying to catch her breath, "That's what's going on."

[number97a413]

Miguel had hurried down the rest of the steps when he heard her, but it's still a surprise when they meet at the bottom and he's confronted with all that noise, when she's so close. He grabs her by the arms just to be sure she can't run into him, wide-eyed and trying, and failing, not to let her hysteria bleed in and start something in his nerves.

"What," he demands after a beat, trying to remember her name and she's the cute girl with the braid then she's the girl in the tree and then she's "Nicki, Jesus, what's wrong," and he stops shaking her as soon as he notices he's doing it.

[howto_submit]

The screaming died with a hiccup and for a moment she was eerily silent, eyes darting past him, all around, expecting eyes to be watching her, expecting Ray to step out of the shadows and laugh at her for what a mess she'd made of things. Waiting for the whole world to come crashing down around them because the Prophet was dead.

Breaking out of his grip, she took hold of his hand and with surprising strength and renewed determination, she said, "Come on, we have to do something," and begin dragging him toward the storage shelves.

[number97a413]

He lets her pull him along because he's surprised, and because between the screaming and the hold on his hand, something is persuading him to follow.

Fuck if he knows where she's leading him, though. She probably doesn't want him to let her know if any of the panties she drags him past make her look fat, which seems like a shame until they're there and he completely forgets because there's some dead fucker tied to a chair. "What the fuck?"

It's not like he's never seen a body before, but it just seems wrong here, and he tugs his hand away so she won't know how much he wants to hold onto it, right then.

"Do you know who he is," he asks, not recognizing the guy.

[howto_submit]

"Of course I know who he is," she said with a rush of anger, the heels of her hands pressing against her temples, hoping that might relieve some of the pressure building there. "He's my father."

Oh, God, what am I going to do?