Saturday, February 27, 2010

FBI Fan Fiction Contest - Voting Now Open

There are 5 entries for the Bones FBI/Booth-themed fan fiction contest:

A Typical Day in the Life of Special Agent Seeley Booth - by Eileen
A Day In The Life… - By: DizzyFiction
Booth's Rather Quiet, Rather Busy, Really Off-Day - by Patricia
The Day in the Life - by Knox
Worth It - by Era
You can vote for your favorite in the poll on the right side of the blog. I am trying an off-site poll creator and may utilize these in the future.

For this particular poll I have disabled viewing the results. It should still show you a vote count, but it won't show you who is winning. You can only vote once, as well. I just want to keep the voting as fair as possible.

Vote for your favorite!

PS - You can read about the contest in the original poll here, and the book "The Bricklayer," by Noah Boyd, here.

Fan Fiction Entry - "Worth It," by Era

Worth It
by Era

"Mr. Booth?"

Still clapping for the last parent, I looked toward my son's teacher as she gave me an encouraging smile. "Are you ready to present?" Casting a glance at Parker, who gave me an excited thumbs up from his desk in the center of the room, I nodded. Standing up slowly, I began my walk to the front of the room, all the while subtly surveying its occupants. Most had by now zoned out, long ago having tuned away from the endless droning of accountants and nurses and who knew what else. Hey, never said I was paying attention, either. I mean, it was career day - no one remembered that Jimmy's mom worked at Starbucks or that Casey's dad was a CEO of some little-less-than-multi-million dollar company.

One thing I knew, though, was that no one ever forgot Special Agent Seeley Joseph Booth.

Having reached my designated place in front of the chalkboard, I looked out over a sea of young, curious faces, and the older, more distracted features of their parents. I continued to search the pairs of eyes until mine locked with those of my kid.

I smiled, and began.

"How many of you have ever played cops and robbers?" A few hands shot into the air with childish exuberance, and I grinned. "Yeah, I did too. And even now I kinda do something like that. See, I'm Mr. Booth, and I work as a Special Agent for the FBI."

A few whispers and gasps accompanied my last words, and I couldn't help but feel the swell of pride in my chest as I went on. "So, does anyone know what an FBI Agent does?"

To the silence in the room, I waited and raised my eyebrows, but when no one volunteered I continued. "Well, how about I tell you? The typical day of an FBI Agent begins at about seven every morning..."


0700 HOURS

He flipped over and slammed his hand down upon his alarm, his other hand wearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Blearily, he stumbled from his bed to the dresser, donning an old t-shirt and some basketball shorts before heading out the door and into the gentle break of day. He found himself fully awake as he tied his shoelaces and stretched, the morning soft and impressionable around him as the sun struggled over the horizon. Heading into that growing light, he began his run at a brisk pace, the sharp slap of his cadence echoing in the silence. It was peaceful, and he liked that. Calm, when so much else in his life was not.

Running faster was an easy way to run away from all those things he hated to admit that he couldn't fix.

Soon, though, he found himself back at his apartment, and it was a quick shower and breakfast before climbing into the SUV and heading to the firearms training center.

"Hey, Booth," chorused through the locker room in several variations upon his entrance, and he gave small smiles in silent reply. Amidst the bantering of his peers, he strapped on a shoulder holster, adjusting the straps and checking his weapon to make sure it had the required number of rounds. When the administrator ordered them to the range, the group of agents gathered their things and waited to be briefed on the day's exercise.

"Alright, boys. Simulated unarmed suspect pursuit and subsequent take down - the hanging board will move along the course we've pre-programmed. You will be placed at different points along the perimeter. Locate and terminate the target first, or there are fifty push-ups in your future."

They nodded, and split for their positions.

Booth slipped his glasses over his face, the room around him instantly darkening into the subtle tones of a city slipping into evening. The set they'd fashioned (really made only of cardboard backgrounds that could be moved into different positions to improvise different scenarios) held that familiar air of mystery, and he absorbed the feelings of heightened suspense and breathless anticipation that came with the chase. He took in the atmosphere, and found himself briefly part of this fake world - but the smooth, metallic glide of a weapon through his hands was entirely real. Slipping quietly through the course, he exhaled as he peered around the corner, then the next, gliding along with each step and moving with a serpent-like elegance; a shadowy grace; a dangerous intent.

A sinfully perfect picture of the thing he hated most to be - a killer.

Of course it was he who successfully completed the task first. Was there ever any doubt?


0900 HOURS

At nine in the morning, the Hoover building was already swarming with activity. Agents bustled to and fro, talking in low tones about current cases as they scurried to their next destination, while others relaxed and chatted on break in the lounge. Booth sauntered into the workplace, immediately adapting to the environment; as at home here among the best of the best as anywhere else. He found himself subject to many greetings, and the subject of many green-eyed stares.

But here, he was no subject. Here, he was king.

Not to boast or anything.

His feet eventually found his office, where Charlie stood by with a steaming mug of coffee.

"Whatcha doing here, Charlie?" he questioned, removing the cup from his grasp and clapping him on the shoulder simultaneously.

He turned back to his desk, only to sit down and find the other man dropping a stack of paperwork in front of him that could not have possibly weighed any less than an elephant. The minor sonic boom it made upon connecting with his desk confirmed that suspicion, and he looked up at Charlie, features twisted quizzically.

"From Hacker," Charlie explained, a pitying look in his eyes. He fidgeted with his tie before elaborating, "He wants it done by noon."

Booth leaned back in his chair in surprise and minor annoyance. "Is this for that Halfields case? I mean, I wasn't even the Case Agent..." He trailed off as Charlie nodded, then passed a hand over his eyes, rubbing them. It was starting to look like a long day already.

With a sigh, he replied, "Tell Hacker he'll have 'em. But I get dibs on the Pickerings case!"

"Is that the dismembered skeleton found in the ice block under a - ?"

"That's the one. Now, you better go tell him that before he gives it to someone else."

Charlie thought it wise not to mention that he only wanted the case because he would have to bring his squint in on it. Or that it was supposed to be his case anyway. Who else could handle that feisty little genius? Not that a lot of people wouldn't like to try...

Realizing he'd been standing there a while, he nodded fiercely and backed out of the room, swept away in the tide of government employees.

Booth, on the other hand, stayed where he was, glaring at the pile of paperwork in front of him. Wasn't it this kind of stuff that was killing trees? With a last sigh, he grabbed a pen from the rattling tin on his desk before setting to work.


1200 HOURS

"Come in," came his boss' voice from behind the thick wooden door as Booth juggled paperwork and case file, reaching for the door knob and successfully stepping inside without injuring himself.

Hacker looked up at him in surprise. "Gee, you finished on time? How do you always find ways to make me look like the slacker?" the deputy director mumbled under his breath, standing to heft the pile into the drop box. When he turned around, the case file Booth had taken possession of early was being waggled in front of his nose.

"Pickerings? It's mine now, right?"

Andrew resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, Booth."

Booth was especially eager for that particular case, not only because of the intrigue it presented with its multiple...angles, but also, well... he was kind of starting to miss his people. It'd been at least a month since he'd seen them.

Them really being Bones. But it was true that without her or any of them, things weren't as interesting for him. Not that he'd ever tell them that. And not that things were ever boring in the FBI.

As if on cue with his thoughts, the phone shrilled loudly, and the deputy director held up a finger as he answered with a prim, "Deputy Director Hacker speaking." Booth observed his face morph as a speaker babbled in frantic tones on the other end. He was about to reply, but a dial tone sounded on the other end and Hacker uttered a muffled curse instead. He looked up at Booth with worried eyes. "You know the case Jennings is working?"

Booth stiffened. Luke Jennings, if he remembered the newbie's name correctly, worked in Missing Persons, and the only case he remembered him working in recent history was the abduction of a teenage girl who'd gotten mixed in with all the wrong people. "You mean the one on Annemarie?"

His boss nodded solemnly. "That was her."

Booth breathed a sigh of relief. She was still alive. That was better than...well, the alternative. "Where is she?"

"Hiding in an empty storage facility just off I-95. I don't know how she reached us, but you better go inform Jennings. I want you to go with him; you know, bring her in. You're good with the kids."

He swallowed and nodded. Booth wasn't usually part of cases that didn't involve murder, as he was a homicide investigator. But he could make an exception when it involved kids.

That was sort of a personal issue.

Turning on his heel, he strode out of the office with a new found purpose, his cell phone already at his ear. "Hey, Luke? It's me, Booth. About that case of yours..."


1400 HOURS

Sirens wailed his arrival as Booth expertly steering the black SUV up and over the curb, gravel crunching under the weight of treaded tires. Almost before he'd pulled the vehicle into park and turned off the red and white blaring overhead, he was out of the car, his feet swiftly crossing to the entrance he spied along one corner of the weathered brown building. Jennings was right behind him, a younger man with a knack for figuring out what made kidnappers tick. Annemarie's case of abuse and subsequent running away had been a long, drawn out case that he was eager to close.

Booth, on the other hand, was more concerned with whether or not she was ready to close it. He knew firsthand just what kind of...experience, that was.

"Do you see her?" The blonde agent asked in a whisper, his hands reaching for his gun as he swiveled around on the approach.

Booth cast him a glance as he aligned himself with the doorway. "No. She's probably in here. I go in first, you cover me. Something happens, the girl is priority one. Get her out safe." Signaling his acknowledgment, Jennings obediently fell behind him. Despite the fact that he was the Agent in Charge on this particular case, he bowed to Booth's experience, allowing him to dictate the situation.

As they stepped in, Booth was attune to his surroundings, his alert on full power. It was an eerie silence in the building, one that smelled of mold and decay and echoed with the forlorn memories of the past. Somewhere, water was dripping from ceiling to floor, and a faint wind whistled half-heartedly through broken windows.

And then through it all, the sound of a footstep.

Booth immediately motioned for Jennings to stop, and he did, listening intently. There it was again. Coming from...

Booth stalked the edges of the building, finally coming upon the hallway where he pinpointed the location of the sound to be. A door greeted them at the end. Locked. Breathing shallowly, Jennings raised his weapon, and Booth gave a nod, then broke down the door with an ear-splitting crack. His shoulder stung from the impact, and he teetered off balance for a moment, relying on Jennings for his cover for a split second before focus returned to his jostled brain.

When clarity returned, he saw her for the first time. Luke was already at her side, where she huddled in a corner of the room as if desperately attempting to camouflage herself with the peeling yellow walls. Whispering words of comfort, he soothingly informed them of who they were and the fact that, at last, she was safe.

It fell to Booth to radio back to Headquarters, and, with a face of exhausted but pure relief, he spoke into the phone, "We got her."


1700 HOURS

Booth watched as Annemarie slowly revealed the story she'd been dying to tell, her carefully guarded reputation unraveling as she sobbed into the sympathy of Agent Jennings. Her abduction from her mother by her biological father was a fairly common tale, but listening to her come clean about the problems she was facing was awe-inspiring, coming from a girl her age. She had been brave enough to face the ordeal, only running away in order to protect herself, and at last she was getting the help she needed.

Looking at her, he for a moment caught a glimpse in his mind's eye of another teenage girl with auburn hair, confessing the similarly cruel way in which life had treated her, and the way in which she eventually wanted it to. He saw her, and her brilliant blue eyes were no longer sad

If only someone like him, a man who wanted to help the lost souls, a man who had devoted his purpose in life to the condemning of the evil and the saving of the innocent and the avenging of the dead, someone like Special Agent Seeley Joseph Booth, had been there.

If only someone, anyone, had been there for her then.

Returning to the present, he knew what could have been. But maybe things turn out like they're meant to, and turn out for the better because of it.

His reverie was broken by the creaking of the door on its hinges as Jennings swung into the room. "You heard, right?"

Booth smiled wearily. "Yep. You've got yourself a solved case for your resume. Good job, rookie."

Jennings smiled, a flush gathering at his neck. "Thanks, Booth. For everything."

He gave a tiny shrug. "Ah, don't mention it. Now go home. Big day tomorrow. Little boys need their rest." His joking air was received with a good-natured laugh and a shake of a head, before the agent took his advice and stepped out, closing the door softly behind him.

Later, Booth too found himself in the parking lot, hands shoved in his pockets as he contemplated the day on the walk to his car. Although it hadn't been particularly eventful (besides retrieving Annemarie), it was yet another day spent doing something worthwhile. In the end, he might not remember what he did today, or two weeks from today, or two years from today, but what was important was the fact that with each day came the knowledge that he was part of something - something that mattered. And tomorrow, he would get up and do it all over again, simply because he knew it was right. Tomorrow, he would show his fidelity, his bravery, and his integrity all over again.

But hey, that was just the life of an FBI Agent.


Applause greeted me upon my finish, and I nodded in thanks. My presentation had been breezy, details forgone for the sake of the minds of children, but it had certainly made them excited. Chatterings about the lifestyle I'm sure they imagined as heroic and enthusiastic comments on their future in the FBI accompanied me on the way back to my seat, and I was relieved to have done my duty correctly.

When all the presentations had finished and Career Day had finally met its end, I waited for my son by the door. A young mother came up to me, supposedly to engage me in polite conversation as we patiently awaited the end of our children's class, and I gave a small, kind smile. But it was what she said next, in a totally unexpected manner, that startled me, in a good way:

"I was watching your son while you spoke. I don't think I've ever seen a child so proud of their father. What you do... it's pretty special."

After she'd left, and my son had come rushing towards me with news of the reactions to my speech and boastful comments on how I was the best, I realized that what I did wasn't just special. People made my life special, people like Parker and Bones and my Squints. The things I did to help the lives of others everyday made it special. The work I did was special. But all together, it wasn't just special...

...It was worth it. Every single day.

Fan Fiction Entry - "The Day in the Life", by Knox

The Day in the Life
by Knox

‘Well that’s just great,’ thought Seeley Booth as he hung up the phone, ‘how could I have forgotten about that?’ A simple phone call from his son, something he normally looked forward to with relish had just set his day on end and it was only….he confirmed with his watch, ‘aw man, it’s not even 8 yet….and I haven’t even been to bed yet,’ he thought somewhat sadly. And to top it all off, today he was scheduled for Physical Fitness Recertification today. Well, rescheduled. The typical problem in the typical life of the typical FBI agent. The rescheduling of events. The bad guys had no respect for schedules, for plans, for family time. Or the law he mused, that was the root of the problem, he thought nodding slowly. Okay, he shook himself from his thoughts, now he was just getting loopy.

He dropped his weary head to the desk for a few moments as he remembered the excitement in his son’s voice when he’d reminded him of today’s school project, ‘Who is your Dad? What does he do?’, which for some reason he’d felt the need to say in his best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. Booth was sure there was a reason, but the fact that it escaped him was just further proof to him, of the sleep he was so in need of after last night’s bust of a stakeout. He’d been doing a pal a favor and had stepped in to run point on Frenetti’s party when his wife and kids had all come down with a horrific case of food poisoning which led to an unscheduled trip to the emergency room. The feisty Italian had called just as Booth was scheduled to be picking up his partner for dinner and drinks after a completed case of their own. He left the Jeffersonian lot without ever setting foot in the lab or even getting out of his vehicle. He’d called Bones but only got her voicemail asking him to leave a message for her and so he had.

“Bones, looks like you’re on your own tonight….well….Boothless anyway. Listen I just got a call from a buddy and I – well I’ll just explain it to you later. Just promise me you’ll get outta there before the cows come home and eat a decent meal, well better than decent – heh – I recommend pie,’ he’d said with a laugh, then with a sound of surprise, ‘oh that’s Frenetti calling now, probably covered in puke,’ he’d muttered before suddenly ending the call by dropping the phone entirely as he’d fumbled to end the one and accept the other.

“This should be so illegal,” he’d muttered to himself before finding a spot to pull over, retrieve the phone and get the final details from the man himself.

Head still down on his desk as he recalled that phone call, he thought some more about the call he’d just finished with his son. Parker had called him on Rebecca’s cell phone on the way to school since he’d been unreachable yesterday and last night. Being all too aware of the erratic nature of his father’s work schedule, he’d been reminding him at every opportunity of his agreement to come in to class to be interviewed for the report. Students had been able to sign up if they thought their dad (or male friend or relative as the case may be) might like to come in to be interviewed by the class on the day the report was due. Those with the more interesting jobs were of course in high demand, because even the most sainted of teachers could hear about only so many CPA’s, investment bankers, dog walkers, etc., before they fell asleep. Let alone the kids themselves. Apparently, FBI agent rated very high on the attention holding scale. Parker already had asked if he could bring his gun, his cuffs, his badge, his medals. He smiled then as he realized how proud his son was of him. It was something he worked hard for and he made sure not to take it for granted. He loved his son and wanted nothing more than to be someone he could respect, which made him want to forget the events of last night all the more. He sighed as he looked down at the clothes he was still wearing in what had turned into an impromptu u.c. op. If he’d known what stepping in for Frenetti last night was going to entail….well, he’d still have done it and actually, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d have wanted all the details beforehand. He wasn’t even sure if Frenetti was aware of the full scope of the assignment, given that there was no mention of it in his briefing last night. With a sigh, he lifted his head from the desk and rolling his shoulders against the tension there he leaned back into his chair, eyes closed. If he could get just a few minutes rest before changing and heading over for recertification, he should still make his allotted time on the interview schedule at Parker’s school and his day might just start to improve.

But today was not the day for improvement. He was interrupted before he could even begin to drift off by the sudden opening of his office door and the greeting of -

“Oh, I’m sorry ma’am I’m looking for – ” the woman at the door stopped talking as suddenly as she’d started.

Her eyes met Booth’s.

In total silence.

In complete shock.

You could hear a pin drop.

Then a pen did drop – from the hand of Booth’s visitor.

“Well Hollard? You comin’ or goin’?” he asked.

“Oh…my…..well….aren’t - you a pretty….lady?” Agent Macy Hollard asked as she regained the ability to speak and bent to retrieve her fallen pen, all the while keeping her wide eyes trained on Booth.

With a tired smile, a waggle of his brows and a tilt of his head he responded, “Well I thought so.”

“Little heavy on the,” she said as she waved a hand in the general vicinity of her face, “though.”

“Yeah, I think most guys would tend toward the heavy,” Booth said in agreement as he folded his hands in his lap.

“How’d you,” she paused as she squinted at him, then shook her head and tried to formulate a complete thought as she continued, “it’s actually a pretty good job except for the whole lady of the night affect,” she finished as she finally shut the door and ventured into the room and took a seat in a chair across from him.

“Yeah, I had this girlfriend once – she broke her hand,” he said wiggling his in demonstration, “needed help for weeks. So, being the catch that I am, I became her,” he paused as he tried to remember the word she’d used, “stylist,” he finished as he remembered.

“Wow,” Hollard said shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know,” Booth said with feeling.

“No, I mean wow – you’re really…quite stunning – I was coming in to offer to reschedule cert as a thanks for stepping in for Frenetti – but now I think I may have to insist,” she said still staring hard at him.

“Why?” Booth asked, though inside he was thinking, ‘thank you, thank you.’

“You’re already quite distracting to the female agents….I’m just afraid if the guys see you like this…” she trailed of as she shook her head at the possible effect.

Chuckling, Booth said, “Thanks, I needed that,” he sighed dramatically and said, “I lost the pageant.”

“Th – there was a pageant?” Hollard asked in disbelief. She was all too aware of the twists and turns involved in what sometimes seemed like a routine case at the FBI, but nothing had prepared her for what she was finding in Seeley Booth’s office. She was shocked to find that her next thought on the subject was surprise that he’d lost a beauty pageant dressed as a woman, so she asked, “To who?”

Laughing again, Booth said, “Cher. I think.” Shaking his head he continued, “It was the talent competition that really cost me – singing you know, it’s not my – ”

“Don’t….remind me,” Hollard said, holding her hand up in a ‘say no more’ gesture.

Rolling his eyes at her response he squirmed in his seat as his clothing began to pinch in some strange places. Noticing his discomfort, Hollard smiled. Before she could say anything smart, Booth said, “Yeah, yeah, I’d like to get out of this….this,” he said gesturing at his outfit.

“How’d you get in here?” Hollard asked curiously, “Without drawing a crowd anyway?”

Stretching, Booth explained, “Been sitting in here since about,” he thought for a minute, “4 o’clock?” At her look of surprise, he continued, “Well, didn’t exactly want to go home like this.”

“Of course and we’ve got showers and clothes here,” she supplied.

“And I wanted to get the paperwork out of the way,” he said nodding, “and before I knew it – people were showing up – and here we are,” he finished gesturing with open arms.

“And no one’s bothered you?” she asked in surprise.

“Honestly, I don’t think they know who I am,” he said by way of explanation.

Nodding, she agreed, “I can see that, I really thought you were some random woman waiting for – well, you.” She seemed to be thinking for a moment and then said, “Actually, you know who you could be? DeSantisi on the 4th floor.”

Booth smiled and sat up a little straighter as he said, “Yeah? She’s pretty hot.”

Shaking her head and laughing at the size of his ego, as she realized he was excited that she was hot not because she was hot, but that it meant he was hot by comparison. She was about to comment on that when his phone rang.

“Booth,” he answered sounding more than a little tired.

“Ho – Hodgins, Hodgins, slow down,” he listened as he sat up straight in his chair at the tone of the other man’s voice. “You’re where?” he asked in surprise, eyes widening he shrugged his shoulders and asked, “well, what do you want me to do?.....Yes, I’m a cop, but – no – yes,” he sighed as he stood and paced and listened, “I understand,” he looked to Hollard and said, “yeah, it looks like I just got an opening in my schedule – but if you make me late for Parker – ”

Apparently, Hodgins had already hung up because Booth never finished his threat and was now just standing and staring at his phone.

“Um, I don’t know what that was about,” Hollard began, “but are you sure you’re in any shape to handle it,” she rushed to finish as he passed her on the way to the door.

Shaking his head at the crazy predicament of Hodgins he said, “Just another day in the life of your average FBI guy……”

“No, I mean the – ” Hollard said gesturing at his outfit and grabbing his arm as he passed.

“Oh,” he breathed, “right…thanks,” he said with a tired but grateful smile.

“Nah,” she waved off his compliment, “I’m just trying to cut down on the competition.”

He laughed as they figured out between them how to get him past the now fully populated corridors of the FBI to the locker rooms with as little hassle as possible.

“Look,” she said, “you just keep your head down and I’ll lead you, we stop for no one, and run if we have to.”

Smiling, Booth asked, “Would any sprinting I may have to do count towards recertification?”

Hollard laughed out loud and said, “If that’s what ends up happening and you make a break for it in those heels, I’ll find a way to make it count!”

However no sprinting was required as, true to her word, she led him quite skillfully away from the largest gatherings and through the corridors. As she did so, he brought her up to speed on Hodgins’ predicament so she could make a couple phone calls while he changed. They suddenly stopped and he looked up to find that they were right outside the…… ‘oh great!’ he thought.


Special Agent Dev Johnson looked to his partner Chris Burdick then back to the woman rushing down the hall with Macy Hollard and asked, “Does Booth have a sister?”

“Why?” Chris asked as he shrugged and sipped his coffee.

“Cause I think she just ran by and I’m gonna ask for her number,” he said with a wolfish grin.


The Men’s Locker room was staring him in the face.

He made no move to enter as he realized that dressed as he was he’d stand out like a sore thumb in there.

“Get in! Get in!” Hollard said panicking and shoving at him as she heard voices approaching from around the corridor.

“What if they’re coming in here?!” he whispered harshly.

“I’ll stall them!”

“What if someone’s already in there?!”

“Duck and cover! Now go, you big ladyman!”

Praying to every saint known to him, Booth charged into the locker room and began tearing at any and all accoutrement not attached to his body. He changed & scrubbed his face clean without incident and in record time. He’d thrown on his FBI sweats and now he was fit to help Hodgins. He shook his head, this was way beyond the call of duty. What was happening here was bringing him neck deep into friend territory. Not that he minded. It was common knowledge that the squints over at the Jeff were Booth’s people…and you better not mess with them. Especially that lady scientist of his. And you better not let her hear you call her that. There were a lot of rules when it came to dealing with the Booth’s squints, thankfully the FBI seemed to thrive on rules and regs so most had no difficulty adapting. Actually, most just steered clear.

He poked his head out the door and waved Hollard over. “Did you make the call?” he asked as he stepped out.

“Yeah, you should be set,” she said as she circled him for inspection, then stopped, staring at his face.

“What? Did I miss something?” he panicked.

“You look a little weird, but I’m sure it will pass. And you’re running out of time, so go!” she said pushing him down the hall.

“Thanks Hollard, I owe you big,” he said as he backed away, bowing his thanks to her.

“You bet you do. I’ll call to reschedule the reschedule,” she called to his retreating back.

He waved before he disappeared around the corner.


The siren was blaring as he approached the Hodgins’ mess. A local Leo was on the scene and Booth said a prayer of thanks that it was who he’d asked Hollard to call.

Messer approached him as he trotted over to where the crowd was gathered.


“Hey, Messer, thanks man,” Booth said as he clapped him on the back.
“We gonna be square? After this, I’m good, right?”

“You take care of this for me? We’re good,” Booth promised.

“Okay then,” the other man said nodding and taking a breath. He smiled then and said, “You know, we can probably handle this without you, Hollard made it sound like you were really under the gun today.”

“Eh, typical day,” Booth said with a calm he didn’t feel.

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Messer said in understanding, “but really, go on. I got this.”

“Thanks man. You take good care of my friend, you hear.”

“You got it Booth,” he said as the agent turned to head back to his vehicle. “Hey,” Messer’s voice stopped him. He turned to see the cop looking at him oddly as he asked, “You okay Booth?”

“Yeah,” Booth said looking at him strangely, “why?”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he said after a moment. Booth turned to leave again as the other man said, “it’s just…”

Booth turned to look at him again. Noticing he was looking more and more impatient, Messer spit out, “You smell pretty.”

It came out a little louder than intended and unfortunately they were close enough to the crowd that they garnered more than a few looks.

Booth opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then just closed his eyes and walked back to his suv and drove away.


He hurried back to the office to shower and change properly into what he considered standard FBI attire and hopefully get to his sons school on time to wow them with his FBI presence. Shouldn’t be too hard, they were only 8. And he’d bring stickers. That thought had him rushing back through the halls from the locker room to his office so he could grab a few kid friendly props and go.

When he got there he was somewhat surprised to find a mug in the middle of his desk. It was a standard World’s Greatest FBI Agent coffee mug that had been slightly altered. He picked it up to find that his FBI designation, 22705, had been written in so there could be no doubt among the agent’s as to just whose mug this was. The other modification was that the word ‘Greatest’ had been crossed out and the word ‘Prettiest’ had been written in. With a little post-it that read, ‘Don’t forget your mug for show and tell.’

He laughed and nodded to himself. This was either a gift from Hollard or someone had heard what had gone down last night and he knew that it was bound to come out sooner or later. Knowing this was just typical FBI ribbing though, and would only continue till the next laughable story came along, he wasn’t too worried. Because come they did, quite regularly in this building, the crazy cases and odd situations. Putting the mug in a lower drawer, his only concern was how he could keep the squints from getting wind of this story. The FBI had nothing on the teasing and practical joking that went on over at the Jeffersonian, he thought with a slight shudder.


Booth parked and ran just the slightest bit to get himself to Parker’s class on time, goodies in hand. He was stopped by an aid only to be told that due to the excitement generated by his visit, they were now holding his portion of the interview in the auditorium and inviting the other 3rd grade classes to participate as part of their ‘government week’.

“Oh,” Booth said, surprised by the change.

“I hope that’s okay the woman said, “your son seemed to think you’d enjoy the larger audience.”

He smiled to put her at ease and she blushed.

“I’m sure it will be fine he said, I just hope I have enough stickers,” he said as he held up a bag of ‘badges’.

“Oh,” she said, “how sweet, none of the other fathers brought props.”

“Well, it’s nothing,” he shrugged.

“Oh no….no…,” she said, “Parker was right, you are the best dad ever,” she said solemnly.

“Well, thanks,” he said feeling more than a little uncomfortable, “um….here,” he said thrusting a sticker at her and hurrying away.

“Such a nice man,” she said watching him go through the auditorium doors.


“And now we have Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI,” introduced the Principal.

The crowd of teacher and children broke into applause as Booth approached the podium. He was no stranger to speaking in front of crowds and kids didn’t scare him but this was not at all what he’d been expecting and was surprised to find his mind completely blank. His face must have conveyed his confusion because the principal covered the mic and leaned toward him and said, “Don’t worry if you have nothing prepared, just tell us about a typical day at the FBI.”

Booth chuckled and nodded as he stepped up to the mic.

“Hi, I’m Special Agent Seeley Booth and I’m here to tell you about an FBI day…….”

Fan Fiction Entry - "Booth's Rather Quiet, Rather Busy, Really Off-Day," by Winona

Booth's Rather Quiet, Rather Busy, Really Off-Day
by Patricia

(Scene: Booth's living room. He is sitting on the couch, elbows behind his head, in jeans and t-shirt. It's obviously not a work day. He's watching a DVR of last night's hockey game. A knock comes at the door. Booth expresses minor irritation, goes to door, peeks through peephole. Runs his hands through his hair, checks his breath...opens door. A young woman in mid-to-late 20's stands at the door. She's blonde, petite, and very squared-off. She smiles shyly at Booth).

Booth: Hey, Wilson. What are you doing here on a Saturday morning?

Wilson: Sorry to bother you at home, Agent Booth, on your day off.

Booth: No, no, come on in. What's up? Must be something that a cell phone couldn't handle, right?

Wilson: Ah, you are irritated with me. (She smiles slightly and sits on the couch but doesn't take off her coat).

Booth: No. No. Well, I mean I was just watching last night's game on my DVR but that's ok. I can stop it and watch later. What's going on? (He silences the DVR with the remote and sits at the edge of the couch).

Wilson: I just came by to say goodbye.

Booth: (looking confused) Uh, ok. Going on vacation?

Wilson: Leaving town. I handed in my resignation last night. I'm leaving the FBI.

Booth: Oh, Wilson, come on. I thought we had this figured out. I thought you were going to wait until the end of your probationary period. Give it another chance. You're too good not to give it another chance.

Wilson: I know I promised but I can't. I've thought about the case a lot and I just don't think I would have done anything differently...even knowing how everything turned out. I just wouldn't. And that makes me a risk to you or anyone else I partner.

Booth: Wilson, I told you before. Being an agent takes experience in the field...good and bad. Being partners with somebody...well, that takes work and trust and...time.

Wilson: I know. Speaking of partners, your partner probably wouldn't understand my being here, right? (She rises)

Booth: Bones? She's not the jealous type.

Wilson (cocking her head to the side): Sounds a little like you wished she were.

Booth: Stick to your story here, Wilson. What are you going to do now that you're leaving the bureau?

Wilson: Going back to Iowa. (Booth groans) I applied for a slot on the local police force. Small town. Not much action. I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. I knew you had my matter what. That meant a lot.

Booth: Sure I can't talk you out of it? (Wilson shakes her head) Well, keep in touch, okay? You know the number. (He gives her a guy-hug) I hope you find what you're looking for.

Wilson: I hope you do, too, Agent Booth. Hope all your dreams comes true. (She exits.)

(Booth goes back to sit on the couch and clicks the remote. Gets up, grabs a beer from fridge, sits back down. Several rapid knocks at the door. Booth shakes his head, closes his eyes, turns off the remote, then rises and goes to the door.)

Booth: Who is it?

Male Voice (still outside door): Murphy, Sir. You asked for the reports on the Layton counterfeiting case. You asked that I deliver them to you personally when they arrived. (Booth looks irritated but doesn't open the door) Sir?

Booth: I meant at the office, Murphy. I'm at home. Not working. Relaxing. (He opens the door.) Not working.

Murphy (Murphy comes in. He's as tall as Booth, early 20's, government issue looks): Sorry, Sir. You didn't specify. I'm sorry. I'll take it back to the office. (Booth grabs the envelope from his hands).

Booth: Never mind. It's here now. I'll take a look at it. (Murphy stays in place) Later, Murphy.

Murphy: Yes, Sir. It's just that...well, since I'm here, I did have a question for you, Agent Booth.

Booth: What is it, Murphy? Make it quick.

Murphy (moving to sit on the couch): Ah, yes, of course. Oh, look, you're watching last night's hockey game. Great game, Sir. What an end...

Booth: Don't say another word or I will shoot you, Murphy. Now what do you want?

Murphy: I have a favor to ask you, Sir.

Booth: What kind of favor?

Murphy: Will you sign....that is...will you give me a recommendation for my transfer, sir?

Booth: Recommendation for transfer? Transfer to what? You're leaving the bureau?

Murphy: Yes, Sir. I've asked for a transfer to NSA.

Booth: When?

Murphy: There are openings now, Sir. I've already applied but am waiting for the final word. I thought if you gave me a good recommendation, that would help, Sir.

Booth: (to himself) Rats leaving a sinking ship. (to Murphy) Yeah, sure, kid. I'll do it. Just let me know where to send it.

Murphy: Thank you, Sir. I won't let you down.

Booth: What am I, your father? Get out of here so I can watch my game. (Escorts him to the door, Leans with his back against the door.) What a crazy day. Game time!. (He crosses to the couch, sets himself up to watch the game. Just as the first play is made, the doorbell rings) What? Are you kidding me? What is going on here?

(Booth crosses to the door. Peeks out the peephole.) Are you kidding me? Messenger delivery? On Saturday?

(Booth opens the door, signs for the package, and sourly closes the door again without saying anything to the delivery person). Who is this from? (He sits on the couch again, staring at the package but not opening it and watching the game. The phone rings. He picks up the phone.) What!?... (Completely changes attitude). Oh, hi, Bones! I didn't expect to hear from you today...What? What package? Oh, What's in the package? Is this from you?....I just got it, just now. You must be psychic. So, what is it?....Okay, okay. I'll open it....(Puts the phone down. Tears open the package. Sits stunned in silence as he takes out a powder blue formal suit. Picks up phone again) Temperance. This is amazing. It's the clothes I wore in my dream. The one I told you about. The dream about us. That is, All of us...Like it? Of course, I like it. I love it...I really miss those clothes. How did you find such a perfect match? Um, Wait. Why did you send me this?....Going where?....Tonight?....I've never heard of that club...just us?...What are you wearing?...Well, I'd like you to wear that little black dress that we bought in Vegas - Roxie...Great!...I'm going, I'm going. I'll hit the shower now....and Tempe...use your key to come in...(Fade)

Fan Fiction Entry - "A Day in the Life..." by DizzyFiction

A Day In The Life…
By: DizzyFiction

“Ladies and gentlemen please welcome to the stage…Lynyrd Skynyrd!!”

Booth had no idea where the booming voice pouring into the stadium was coming from. The bright lights that lit the large stage made it impossible for him to see any hanging speakers. When he looked back down he noticed that the sleeves of his confederate flag t-shirt ha been torn off and that his jeans were covered in holes as well. Funny, he didn’t remember falling asleep in any of this. He didn’t remember falling asleep inside a giant coliseum either. Suddenly he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. When he turned around he was greeted by a rather angry, bearded, southern gentleman.

“You gonna sing or what man?” His voice was deep and husky laced with a southern accent. His breath stunk of whiskey and cigarettes.

When Booth turned back around there was now a giant crowd before him, chanting his name over and over again. He raised a victorious fist in the air and the crowd began cheering even louder. Without any effort the words to “Sweet Home Alabama” slipped from his mouth. He watched as the crowd began to dance and sing a long to his voice.

As the song came to an end, so did his dream of being a world famous rock star. He rolled from his back onto his side and with a blind hand reached out for the off button in his alarm clock. The illuminated red numbers shined obnoxiously in his face, 5:00 a.m. Any day that started off with him singing lead in Lynyrd Skynyrd was a good day. He rose from the bed slowly, stopping to rub his tired eyes and run his hands through his bed head. He grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand and made sure that he hadn’t slept through any calls from his brilliant, yet sometimes over zealous partner. He exhaled in relief when he saw that his call log showed no missed calls.

His first shower of the morning only served one purpose, to wake him up before heading to the gym. He tried to make it to the gym at least 3 times a week. Having already skipped the previous two days he had a lot to make up for. The steam from the warm water rose into the air around him. The comfort of the water tempted him to get back under his covers and go back to bed. He quickly turned off the water hoping that the sting of the cold air in his apartment would wake him up. He made a mental note to call his landlord later on that day. His heat had been on the fritz since winter had started. A little too convenient for his landlord, he thought. All he had to do was remind Mr. Farley that he was a F.B.I agent and the problem would be taken care of. Oh, the perks of being a federal agent.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before he ran out the door. Within seconds the scent of something rotten attacked his senses. It was probably some old Thai food from a late night investigation with Bones. Thai didn’t really keep well, he knew from several different past experiences. He made another mental note to clean out the fridge before he picked up Parker for their weekend visit.

He jogged to his local gym which was only a few blocks from his house. That way he took care of cardio and transportation, killing two birds with one stone. He passed the same few people every morning. 5:25 a.m. wasn’t a very happening time. There was the old couple that went and got bagels at the corner deli, the young blonde girl walking her black lab, and all the other joggers that frequented the same route. He enjoyed the familiarity of the area and found comfort in the neighborhood.

When he walked into the gym there were only a few other patrons inside. Bill, the owner, greeted Booth as he did every other morning. He chose this gym over the official F.B.I gym because of that greeting. It had a much more personal feel to it. He was surrounded by other agents all the time and he found his workout time to be sacred. Not even work was aloud to interfere.

As soon as he walked through the door to his office his cell phone was ringing. He exhaled loudly and rolled his eyes a bit.

“Already, really? I guess it’s gonna be one of those days.” He looked around his office and remembered he was talking to himself. It was a rare occurrence that there was no one waiting for him the moment he walked in. Usually he found Sweets or Bones waiting by the door for him. He appreciated the unusual silence for a second more before finally picking up his cell phone.

“Hey, buddy! Nope it’s no bother, I just walked into work.” Parker called him every morning on his ride to school. It was easily the highlight of his day. He listened while Parker talked about an upcoming science project and mentioned a girl or two in his class that he thought liked him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy. Slow your roll. You don’t want any girls distracting you while you’re at school. Believe me on this one, I know from personal experience.” That got a laugh out of Parker, the first one Booth had heard that day.

“Alright, little man. I gotta go catch some bad guys. I’ll pick you up at moms at 7p.m. sharp. Love you.” Booth snapped his phone shut. Only 12 more hours until their father son weekend commenced.

For about an hour Booth sipped on a couple cups of coffee and sorted through some of his unfinished paperwork. His uninterrupted bliss was cut short when a wet behind the ears agent burst through his door.

“Agent Booth I’m sorry to interrupt, but they just brought in Joey Hicks. He is in the interrogation room ready to be questioned.” Booth could practically hear the young agent’s heartbeat from across the room. The excitement of the chase had gotten to him. Luckily for Booth his chasing days were usually spent with Bones and the rest of the squints. Here they just brought him the bad guys. It was a lot easier on his back.

“A knock on the door might be nice next time.” Booth replied while leaning back in his chair. The young agent quickly exited the office, careful not to make any eye contact with him. His intimidation tactics always worked on the new guys, the more experienced agents knew it was all an act.

Booth and his team had been watching a group of money counter fitters for a couple weeks now. The fake money had first turned up at a couple department stores in the area but had since spread to several local businesses. It had taken them some time, but they had finally been able to identify the ring leader of the operation, Joey Hicks. He was exactly what you would imagine a clichĂ© criminal to be. Prison tattoos decorated most on his uncovered skin, including a few teardrops underneath his eye. It was supposed to intimidate people, but Booth didn’t fall for any of it. By the end of his interrogation Booth had secured a confession that would send Hicks away for a very long time. All of this before lunch. His early morning prediction was proving to be pretty accurate.

While running out to grab some lunch Booth had called Bones to check on things at the Jeffersonian. As usual Bones filled him in on every last detail. Since they were not working on any cases they mostly spoke about coworkers and weekend plans. He didn’t mind the lack of subject matter one bit, actually finding comfort in her ability to just shoot the breeze with him. When he returned to the office he ate with some fellow agents and discussed what they would be working on that afternoon. He had been asked to ride along as back up on a drug bust just incase things got out of hand. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

Stationed behind the drivers seat door of his black SUV Booth held his gun firmly in his hands. When the SWAT team had entered the house in question they had been greeted by an angry, armed tenant. Luckily the guy had been too high to aim straight and hadn’t hit any agents. The stand off went on for hours. His back ached from squatting for so long. Next time he would think twice before agreeing to any extra work. Booth checked his watch several times over the course of the stake out, by 4:30 he started to worry that he would be late picking up Parker. Luckily the smoke bomb they threw into the house shortly after smoked the suspect out. By 5:00 he was on his way to the grocery store.

Booth walked down each isle trying to pick up all of Parker’s favorite snacks. Since it had been so cold out they had decided to spend there weekend watching scary movies and pigging out. He knew that the sugar would keep Parker up late, but he didn’t mind. They didn’t get much time together, so he valued every last minute of it. By the time he got to the cash register his cart was filled to the brim with all kinds of good stuff. He couldn’t afford to skip the gym at all next week.

He rushed home to unload his groceries and clean out the funk that had grown in his fridge. When he looked in the container he immediately tossed it in the trash. It resembled something that Hodgins would nerd out over at the lab. He finished just in time to go downstairs and thank his landlord for fixing the heat in such a timely manor. He made sure to balance out his demands with kindness, his grandfather had taught him that that’s how you got ahead in the world.

By 7 o’clock on the dot he was outside Rebecca’s door waiting for Parker. It was always easy to make conversation with Rebecca when she was alone, no boyfriends to make nice with. Ever since they had decided to keep there relationship platonic things had gotten much easier. Now they were just two parents trying to raise their son in the best way possible.

“Daddy!!” Parker came flying down the stairs with his weekend bag packed and ready to go the bag was almost as big as he was.

“You only had to pack for the weekend! Looks like you’re ready to backpack across America.” Parker giggled at his father comments and wrapped his arms around his leg.

“Let’s go, Daddy. I wanna get some movies!” The excitement in the young boys’ voice was contagious. Booth couldn’t help but run after him. They jumped in the car and headed off to their next destination.

“So how was your day, Dad?” Parker asked innocently enough. Booth could only smile in response.

“Ahh I’m tired of talking about work. How was your day, buddy?” Booth just sat back and listened happily as Parker talked about his day. Without a doubt, this was the best part of his day.

Fan Fiction Entry - "A Typical Day in the Life of Special Agent Seeley Booth", by Eileen

I only own the first four seasons of Bones on DVD. I do not own any of the characters discussed or referenced in this piece of writing.

I write this fan fiction story for the sole purpose of having it as an entry for the contest as stated on

“A Typical Day in the Life of Special Agent Seeley Booth”
by Eileen

Special Agent Seeley Booth arrives at his office in the FBI Building at 7 a.m.

Booth takes the elevator up. Booth wonders to himself. Wow, it is early. The sun has yet to come up. What is wrong with this picture? I just was so awake at 5:30 a.m. and could not get back to sleep. I got up, got dressed, and headed into work. Do we have a case today? Let’s see. Lots of paperwork to get caught up on, but no case files. Might as well get some coffee and hit the stacks.

The phone rings around 9 a.m.

Booth! No, Angela. Is she not in her office or Limbo bone storage? She has yet to surface? You think what? Ah, huh. You are now in her office?

Oh, Ange. I understand. Brennan scheduled a breakfast meeting with her publisher for 8:30 a.m. You plan to have lunch, with just the “Girls,” at a new vegan cafĂ©.

No, I will not be over to the Lab. I have paperwork, and you know how much I like filling out these reports (Not)!

Bye, Angela. Booth chuckles to himself: Well, I might as well earn my keep. Hopefully, Bones will call in and maybe we can grab an early dinner. I know lunch is out because she and Angela going to lunch.

Great! The computer just froze up. This is my lucky day! I better call the IT Department. Booth dials the service hotline number.

Yes, I am Special Agent Seeley Booth with FBI. My computer ID is 09232005. So, this is a network problem. Yes, I have work that must be in by 5 p.m. today. Things should be back up and running by 7 a.m. tomorrow. Yes, I suppose that will have to do. Thanks.

Now what do I do? I will call my boss and see if I can have an extra day. Hello, this is Agent Booth. The computer network is down as you probably know. I need an extra day to finish up my report. I know. Procrastination should have been my middle name. Yes, I will try harder next time. Thank you. Yes, I will have it in by midnight on Friday.

Seeley’s phone rings. He answers and finds out that Rebecca cannot make it to have lunch with Parker for Lunch with Your Parent or Guardian Day at school. He, as always, tells Rebecca that he will go in her place and have lunch with his son. He hangs up and wonders how come Parker chose his mom over his dad. Maybe my day will be a good one after all.

Just as he is about to leave he hears from Angela that all is well. Brennan arrived at 10:30 a.m. at the Lab and has been in Limbo. No need to worry anymore.

He leaves the building and drives over to Parker’s school just in time to get his “Visitor” badge and to greet Parker as his class files into the cafeteria. He and Parker sit down and eat their lunch. Parker shares that he helped his teacher with science experiment that involved dropping an egg from a height of 3 ft. Of course that egg was encased in bubble wrap and polystyrene. Booth thinks to himself, “I wonder how Brennan will respond when Parker tells her about the science experiment. She already lectures me about the horrible conditions hens must endure to produce eggs that never become chicks when I order Eggs Benedict at the diner.”

Lunches are eaten despite the loud chatter of the elementary children, and the students return to their homerooms. Booth heads back to his office. As he pulls into the parking area, he sees what appears to be Bones’ car. No, as he looks at the license plate; it’s not. Bummer!

He enters his office and listens to his voice mail hoping that Bones has called. Instead of hearing his best friend’s voice, he finds out that he must have the report done by 5 p.m. sharp. How in the world am I to do that?! Let’s see it is 3 p.m.

He sighs. I guess I will have to use the old electric typewriter to get this done. He sulks and trudges down the dimly lit hall and opens a supply storage closet. He removes the cobwebs attached to the covering that protects the electric typewriter. He places the electric typewriter on a movable cart and wheels it back to his office desk. Next, he plugs in the cord and turns on the typewriter. He hopes that he still has the old style report forms with triplicate copies as he searches for them and some correction tape. He silently prays that the ink cartridge is not dried up and still works. He types up the report.

Well, the report looks good. I did with 15 minutes to spare. A new “Seeley” best for me! I’ll just drop this off at Hacker’s office on my way out. What do we have here? A new voicemail message from Bones that says she wants to meet me at the dinner by 6 p.m. Great! I will let her know that I will meet her there, drop the report off, and be off the Royal Diner. I hope they have juicy, sweet cherry pie on the menu tonight. Cause with my hanging out with Bones and enjoying great pie makes for a wonderful night!

The End

Written by: Eileen Byron


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