Who: Booth and Angela What: Doing what they do best. When: Yet to be determined time after the crime took place. Where: [Address of a school on the boards] Warnings: Dark themes. Death. Bodies. Uhm..hai, it's a murder scene. :|
Even all of Seeley Booth's years of experience didn't prepare him for the scene he walked into after the local FBI got the call and spread out into the city to different Elementary schools. ...Body parts and pieces of flesh barely clinging to the bones, blood staining the ground around them. All of them strewn about with rose petals as if some twisted scene from American Beauty gone wrong left infront of a school for kids to see. It was strange being the new kid. Having to make a name for himself all over again and not be the one calling the shots. Normally Booth would be all over things, telling agents where to go, coordinating and directing. But now he observed and got his footing in his new setting. One thing at a time. Crime scene, then coworkers. Booth knew what he was doing, it was obvious he wasn't completely green like many of the new transfers they normally received. Nobody needed to tell him where to go, or what to do, or how to do it. He just took control in his own way and started talking to kids who were waiting on the other side of police barriers while he waited for Angela trying to distract them the best he could from the gruesome sight. At least his years went with him thanks to Barbara Gordon and with years went some level of respect and authority at least. But reassuring the kids that the best thing they could do was stay where they were and wait for someone to come get them was difficult, damn near impossible actually. He couldn't have mobs on the scene. He didn't want them to see it at all, but most of them already had and getting them home was taking longer then he liked.
So he worked with compassion and humanity the best he could and waited for Angela. Slowly the mob of distraught kids was breaking up to go home as cars of parents started to arrive and pick them up. Police and FBI were able to do their jobs more efficiently and quickly without having to worry who would be looking over their shoulder or breaking through barriers and running into the middle of crime scenes as parts of colored clothing were recognized. Booth finally stepped back to take a breath as the sea of roller coaster emotion parted. Or so he thought. Booth turned back to the scene and stared blankly at the torn up remains infront of him, his arms folding uncomfortably over his chest, his FBI jacket swaying gently in the dull cool November breeze. His face was pale but he couldn't look away. They deserved to be identified. Their families deserved the truth. He had a hunch what had happened, and it tore him up inside. If he was right about his sinking feeling then he knew he couldn't give it to them.