Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own nor am I involved with the production of Bones, but I do work cheap, so Hart & Co. feel free to call me.
Synopsis: An endless series of meetings, a grueling week of work, a dead body, an incompetent FBI Agent, an obnoxious intern, and a conniving best friend have pushed the Jeffersonian's premier forensic anthropologist to her limits. What will it take to finally push her over the edge?
A/N: This is my Secret Santa fic for AmandaFriend, of course this isn't the story I started out to write – that one I'm still writing, but this one sort of got a hold on me and it wouldn't let go. Of course, adult language and situations apply. Be Warned – this story includes graphic descriptions of stockings getting stuffed...or something getting stuffed at the very least.
Addendum: Okay, I know this was due on January 6th for the Bones Secret Santa but I've got a very good reason for pushing the deadline like I have – first the story sort of got away from me, I mean, it's a lot longer than I thought it'd be. Second I started it the week before Christmas and of course, got sick almost immediately afterward and have been battling some sort of lung funk ever since – it's terribly hard to write when you can barely think for all the rattling your lungs are doing. Anyway, this story is finally ready but it's so damned big I'm putting it out as a three shot, posting one chapter on the 8th, one on the 9th, and the final one on the 10th. Hope you enjoy them all, and Merry Christmas Amanda! Thanks.
Santa Baby
Slender fingers grasped the spine tighter, fingertips turning white as blunt nails dug into the dry leather in a desperate attempt to hold onto the old book. Leaning forward on the tips of her toes, she shifted the books in her other arm for balance and arched her back, stretching her lean frame for every extra inch of height. The book teetered on the edge and for a second she feared her struggle was in vain until, suddenly, the volume rocked forward and slid into place with a satisfyingly soft thump.
Her fingers still lingered on the edge of the shelf when a shadow fell over them. The brush of rough, calloused skin over the back of her hand sent a spark coursing down her arm and straight to her center. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder she saw the broad shoulders and crooked smile of the library's most obnoxious and obstinate patron.
"You're blocking my light."
"Well Excuse me, Miss Brennan, but I was only trying to help."
Warm breath puffed over her cheek as he spoke with a voice so rich, soft and warm that it sent a shiver through her when he used it. Frustrated at her body's betrayal, Brennan set the rest of her books down on a lower shelf and turned abruptly to face him. Her hand fell to his chest just as she turned. Enjoying the feel of firm flesh she let it linger for just a moment before shoving him backwards, hard.
"If you wanted to help, Mister Booth, you'd do so by observing library rules of decorum."
Her lips settled into a tight, mirthless smile as he rocked back on his heels.
"Now, to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your company this time, Mister Booth?"
She watched as the normally cocky smile slid from his face, and a guarded, nervous look entered his eyes as he held out the small stack of books that had been tucked under his arm. He let them go almost reluctantly, and as she leafed through the back of each she understood why. When Brennan's eyes again caught his there wasn't a trace of cockiness left.
"Explain yourself, Mister Booth."
Her voice was sharp and cold, as if each word was etched in frost with a promise of lingering pain if he failed to please. Booth's will was undone and he simply stared with lips pressed mutely together.
"Well Mister Booth? Out with it, I don't have all day to deal with you."
"Okay! Okay. I just, well…I honestly didn't know I had them checked out for that long."
"Really."
"Really! I, I thought I'd returned them, you know? And I was cleaning out the trunk of my car when I found them."
"Is that all?"
"Um, yeah?"
"So how do you explain the oil stains?"
"They, um, they were wrapped up in an old rag I use when I change the oil in my car."
"I see. And the road tar?"
"I, uh, I sorta dropped them…in the parking lot. On the way in."
"The broken spines?"
"I had to kick'em out of the way of an on-coming car!"
"Which would explain the tire marks on this one."
"It didn't make quite make it."
Brennan sighed irritably as she looked at the three ruined books in her hands. Any other patron would be faced with serious fines, replacement fees, possibly even suspension of privileges, but she knew that wasn't an option here. As obnoxious as he was, she knew his circumstances wouldn't allow it. Booth was a scholarship student, true it was a sports scholarship, but he was one of the few 'scholar athletes' that actually lent credence to that epithet. She knew he lacked the financial means to sustain the pecuniary penalties, and the scholastic resources to forgo the library's services, but she'd be damned if she'd let him put one on her like so many others had tried.
A cold smile crept upon her lips as she realized there was at least one way she could make him pay. One way she could get her revenge on him and all of the arrogant jocks just like him who'd tormented her throughout her academic career. Temperance Brennan would get hers.
She shoved the books back into his arms, not seeming to care how he bobbled them or what additional damage was done. While he juggled the wrecked volumes she took a good, long look at him. Seeley Booth was tall and well muscled, with a square jaw and rugged, symmetrical features. His chocolaty brown eyes, warm voice, and broad thick fingers had been the stuff of her fantasies for too long, it was time he paid the penalty for all those sleepless nights she'd been forced to endure. One way or another, he was going to pay.
"Tell me, Mister Booth, are you aware of the penalties for having an overdue book?"
"Look, Miss Brennan, I know there's no excuse and, and I'll pay. I promise, I'll…I'll get another job, okay? And I'll…I'll work here, for free! I'll do anything, okay, just…please, don't take away my card?"
"Oh, that won't be a problem Mister Booth."
"It won't?"
"No, you see the library board has adopted a new set of policies where you're concerned."
"Th-they have?"
Booth stepped back nervously as Brennan continued to walk toward him, crowding him until his back hit the card catalog against the wall.
"Yes, they have." Reaching up Brennan pulled the bobby pins from her hair, shaking her head gently as it cascaded down around her shoulders. "You see, I don't want your money."
Brennan's hands fell to his chest, she could feel the muscles flexing beneath the shear fabric of his tee shirt. Her hands drifted down, fingers tracing the contours of his flat stomach, and she watched with satisfaction as Booth swallowed hard in response.
"You don't want money?"
"No Mister Booth."
"What, what do you…"
"You, Mister Booth. Just you."
Chest to chest, she held him pinned against the card catalog. Her fingers dipped lower, tightening around the cool metal of his belt buckle, loosening its hold on his pants. Booth's breathing was coming in short, shallow bursts and Brennan smiled at the sight - for once the brash, cocky, too-handsome for his own good bastard one doing the panting. With a quick tug she yanked the belt free and tossed it aside with a loud clang...
Brennan bolted upright, one hand desperately flailing for the alarm on her side of the bed while the other pushed the sleep mask from her eyes. Holding the clock radio just inches from her face, it took longer than she'd care to admit before her bleary-eyes came into focus and she realized just how late she was.
"Damn!"
At that same instant her phone rang, startling her into dropping the alarm clock to the floor. Brennan cursed and dove for the source of the sound.
"Brennan," grimacing she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Yes Cam, I'm aware of the time...no, I am still planning on coming in today. I apologize for being late and especially for missing our budget meeting."
Brennan threw back the covers and bolted for the bathroom, phone still pressed to her ear, "Yes, I'll be in shortly. Just give me time to-what? Of course, send the directions to my phone and I'll meet the FBI there."
Brennan snapped the phone shut and started the water in the tub. While steam quickly filled up the bathroom she went back into her bedroom and dropped her phone on the night stand. It skidded across the top and dropped to the floor, sliding beneath her bed.
Curses turned the air blue as Brennan fell to her knees and began feeling around for her phone. Her hand hit something smooth and hard, and she heard the phone chirp as her fingers caressed its face. Sighing in relief, Brennan was just getting up from the floor when she jostled her nightstand.
A hiss of pain escaped her as she caught the corner of the carved mahogany table on her arm. She looked down at the angry read scratch that crossed her bicep and winced as her fingers probed the area. 'It'll probably bruise but other than a nasty scratch it's nothing,' she told herself. 'Shake it off, Bones, you've got a body to collect and if you don't get there soon that goon from the FBI will muck up the scene.'
Squaring her shoulders, Brennan walked into the cloud of steam that filled her bathroom and hoped against hope that her day would only get better.
∙ v ∙
She increased the magnification and adjusted the light to get a clearer picture of the fracture lines along the edge. Narrowing her eyes into a tight squint as the image became sharper; she let out a groan of frustration. Grasping the fragile piece of skull between the padded ends of her tweezers, she slowly fitted it against a second, slightly larger piece, held gently between the teeth of the forceps in her right hand. Slowly, painfully slowly, she moved the two pieces into alignment, ever conscious of the fact that the slightest movement on her part could damage the already fragile heat sensitized bone further.
Perspiration beaded on her forehead despite the relative coolness of the lab. She crinkled her brow in concentration, forcing a small bead to roll down her skin, collecting strength as it went. Sticking out her lower lip, she puffed a breath upwards in annoyance, hoping against hope it would dissuade the errant bead of sweat that had formed a virtual rivulet from continuing along its current path. Her hopes were in vain.
Just as she was fitting the two pieces together, a single, small, perfectly aimed droplet of sweat rolled off her upper brow and fell square onto the magnifying lens in front of her. Startled, she bumped the two pieces of bone together causing the slightly larger one to snap in half, right where the grip of the forceps ended.
"Ms. Wick!"
Daisy jumped upward, causing her right wrist to strike the arm of the magnifier in the process. The sudden painful shock was enough for her already cramped hand to lose its grip on the forceps, and the next sound heard was the metallic clatter of them striking the examination tray covered in skull fragments. Daisy watched in horror as the additional weight of the forceps caused the slightly off balance tray to teeter, and then slowly fall to the floor of the platform.
"Ms. Wick-"
"Oh my God, Doctor Brennan!"
"Ms. Wick, what were-"
"OhmyGod!OhmyGod!OhmyGod!" Daisy continued excitedly, as she dropped to her knees and began scooping up pieces of skull from the platform floor. "ImsosorryDoctorBrennan!"
"Ms. Wick, what-"
"I swear, I was just trying to reconstruct the skull like you told me too, Doctor Brennan! I just didn't-"
"Enough!" Brennan's voice was short and sharp, and loud enough that the nearby lab techs froze in motion. "Ms. Wick, we do not scoop up evidence and dump it blindly on a tray regardless of circumstances. Now kindly finish collecting the skull fragments and arrange them on the tray, carefully, and once you're finished we can continue discussing why you weren't doing exactly what I told you to do, and how that will affect your future here at the Jeffersonian."
Daisy blanched at Brennan's words, but calmly returned to the task at hand only now she worked much more carefully, taking time to collect each piece and handle it with the care it required. The click of Brennan's boots on the platform floor told her she was no longer watching, and Daisy let out a sigh of relief even as a small tear escaped the corner of her eye.
∙ v ∙
Brennan walked off the platform feeling the knot of tension that had been her ever-present companion for the last few weeks grow ever tighter, settling between her shoulders. Tension she could handle, under normal conditions. Even tension induced by Ms. Wick was something she'd grown accustomed to, though she'd never actually admit it to anyone, except perhaps Booth. But the last few days were even worse than normal. Brennan was having trouble sleeping, her headaches were getting worse, she knew her temper was now abysmal, and yet all of that was acceptable in her mind as long as it didn't affect her work. Only now it was.
She caught sight of Cam coming toward her on an intercept course and quickly made a mid-stride course correction designed to avoid her nominal superior. She was actually quite fond of Cam, but right now a tedious lecture on whatever ridiculous rule or protocol she'd supposedly broken was not what she wanted to hear, especially not with the growing knot of tension in her shoulders trying to make its way slowly up her spine.
A lab technician was fast approaching, but with a glance Brennan knew the woman wanted nothing from her. A faint smile graced her lips at the realization that this lab technician, who's name escaped her at the moment, was one of the more officious and nettlesome sticklers for protocol. Typically that fact wouldn't matter to Brennan one way or the other, but right now it mattered a great deal as the stern looking busy-body was heading past her and directly toward Cam.
Brennan turned her head as she passed, feinting a nod of recognition, but smiling a ghost of a smile as she saw the woman waving and calling out to 'Doctor Saroyan'. Continuing to walk resolutely toward her office, Brennan made a mental note to give the woman a positive comment on her next evaluation for her contribution to the workplace environment – after all, distracting Cam at that precise moment had definitely made a positive impact on her workplace experience.
"Yo! Doc!" A deep, masculine voice boomed out, "Doctor B!"
'Damn it!' She almost growled in thought, 'What could that buffoon want now?'
Brennan studiously ignored the man and continued toward her office.
"Yoo hoo! Booones!" The voice sounded out from right behind her, bringing Brennan to a complete stop, "Hey, Bo-"
She spun around fast enough to startle the man in question into silence.
"Don't call me Bones, Agent Prentiss," Brennan snapped. "And I heard you the first time you bellowed, there was no need to continue to shout."
Prentiss gave her his version of a charming smile, but it only made Brennan cringe.
"Well? Was there something you wanted, Agent Prentiss? I've already given you my initial report and as soon as I have anything else to report I'll relay it to Geier and he can relay the information to you."
"Yeah, well that's one thing we need to straighten out, Doc," Prentiss put his hands on his hips and rocked back on his heels in an attempt to intimidate her. "All the information you get goes directly to me, no one else, capiche? This thing with you and Geier? That isn't going to work for me."
She smiled inwardly at the sight of the aforementioned FBI technician walking toward them, knowing that Prentiss was unaware of the other man's approach.
"Really? Are you sure?" Brennan feigned ignorance, "I only ask because this morning you indicated you couldn't understand my initial report, so I thought if you had someone who could explain it to you..."
"Explain it to me?"
"Yes, I believe it's called, 'dumbing down'?" Brennan's innocent expression was almost ruined by the look of utter disbelief on Prentiss' face.
Geier couldn't help but laugh at Brennan's comment, and Prentiss turned at the sound. His face went red as he saw the FBI crime scene technician standing there.
"Look, I don't need anyone to dumb anything down for me," he contested hotly, as he ignored the other man. "I've got a bachelor's in Criminology and certification in Forensic Science from FSU; I can read an evidence report. But that, that thing you gave me, that wasn't even in English."
"I can assure you that report was written in English, Agent Prentiss, and it is exactly the same report I send Booth," Brennan arched a pointed eyebrow at the fuming agent.
"There's no way that's the same report you send Booth! No freakin' way!" Prentiss howled, "If that South Philly hood rat can read those reports without you holding his hand, I'll be a monkey's uncle."
"Yes, well despite the surprising strong case you make for a new transitional hominid state, I can assure you that Booth doesn't need my help in reading an evidence report." Brennan nodded to the FBI technician who'd joined them, "As I said before, I'll give my findings to Geier and he can explain them to you."
"And as I said before, that isn't going to work for me – you'll give the evidence reports to me, directly to me, and if anything needs explaining you can explain it to me." Prentiss stepped forward, crowding into Brennan's personal space, "In fact, maybe I can come by tonight and you can, uh, explain it all to me in detail. You know, just like you would for Booth?"
Brennan sneered at Prentiss, no longer bothering to conceal the contempt she felt for him as she spoke, "I can assure you Agent Prentiss - that will never happen."
"Really? Because you look like the kind of girl who likes to have fun, and ol' Booth," Prentiss leaned in even closer. "Well, we both know Seeley's too much of a boy scout to give a girl like you the kind of fun she's really looking for. Isn't that right, Bones?"
Geier's eyes had gone wide when used that particular pet name for the good Doctor, and he hastened to warn him off.
"Agent Prentiss, I don't think-"
"That's right, you don't think, Doc, you just leave that to me and keep your pretty little head on your bones." Prentiss smiled an oily smile at Brennan as he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers stroke down her neck and shoulder.
"Oh, Agent Prentiss, I wouldn't do-"
Geier's warming was cut off by the sound of Prentiss screaming like a school girl, as Brennan reached over and grabbed his thumb, twisting it backwards against the Agents hand until she held him in an underhand thumb lock. Twisting harder, Brennan brought her left arm around and put additional pressure on Prentiss' elbow until the big man dropped to the floor, whimpering, his arm locked in Brennan's vice-like grip.
"I've put up with your boorish behavior, your ineptitude, your insults, I've even tolerated the denigrating and demeaning manner in which you talk about my partner, though it rankles me to do so," Prentiss struggled to stand and Brennan twisted his wrist harder, putting more pressure on the elbow to keep the arm locked straight in front of her.
"I wouldn't recommend struggling, Agent Prentiss." Brennan commented calmly, "It would take less than four pounds of additional pressure to affect a dislocation of the radioulnar joint."
Prentiss whimpered in response, his face contorted in pain and confusion, as Geier leaned in to translate.
"What Doctor Brennan said, is that if you keep struggling she could easily dislocate your forearm at the elbow," Prentiss's eyes widened in recognition and Geier nodded. "That would be very painful, so don't struggle."
"Thank you Marcus," Brennan nodded, adjusting her hold on the Agent's arm as he stopped struggling.
"Any time Doctor Brennan," Geier shared a knowing smile with Brennan, who looked like she was about to continue her harangue of Prentiss when Cam interrupted.
"Doctor Brennan, please let the Agent Prentiss get up off my floor," Cam admonished. "And would you care to tell me what you think you are doing to our temporary liaison?"
Cam's weary voice betrayed how close she was to losing her own temper, and Brennan, taking note of that fact, decided on brevity.
"Agent Prentiss registered a strenuous objection to how our evidence reports were written and when I attempted to provide him the assistance he needed to accurately interpret the report he'd been given, he became belligerent, made some rather suggestive overtures, and then put his hands on me."
"That's a damned lie!" Prentiss spat back.
Cam took in the battered FBI Agent who was cradling his right arm gingerly while flexing and rotating the rapidly swelling thumb. Though never as put together as Booth, the man was a normally a dapper dresser and took pride in his appearance, but right now he was red faced, disheveled and puffing like he'd just lost a fight with a heavy weight boxer.
"Alright, Agent Prentiss, what's your side of the story?"
"I asked this, this crazy woman, for an evidence report that made sense and she assaulted me!" He huffed.
"He's lying!" Brennan countered, looking to Geier for support. "Marcus was here, he heard everything; he can confirm that I'm telling the truth."
Cam folded her arms across her chest and turned toward the FBI forensic tech who was suddenly the center of attention.
"Very well, you're on Mister Geier. Care to shed some light on just why my forensic anthropologist was beating up your FBI Agent?"
"It went down pretty much like Doctor Brennan said. In fact," Prentiss shot Geier a menacing look which only prompted the tech to roll his eyes in disdain. "Agent Prentiss has been entirely unprofessional in dealing with Doctor Brennan and the rest of the staff here at the Jeffersonian. When he isn't bossing everyone around like they're his personal servants, he's insulting their work, their intelligence, and their working relationship with SSA Booth."
"Really?" Cam arched an eyebrow and aimed it at Prentiss who was practically fuming by then, "Anything you'd like to say in your defense, Agent Prentiss?"
"My defense? Yeah…yeah I've got something to say – you people are crazy!" Prentiss jerked his head toward Brennan, "The evidence reports are like nothing I've ever seen, no one could read them I tell you, no one! And then her highness here decides that she's going to embarrass me by having this geek," Prentiss jerked his head toward Geier, "read them to me like I'm some idiot. I graduated from FSU with a degree in criminology and I'm certified as a crime scene analyst for God's sake! I know how to read an evidence report!"
"The evidence would suggest otherwise," Brennan quipped, drawing a chuckle from Geier and a groan from Cam. "FSU has one of the better forensics programs available, perhaps you should seek a refund for you tuition from Florida State, Agent Prentiss. If you need a letter of recommendation I can attest to your lack of technical expertise."
"I didn't go to Florida State, I went to Fresno State," Prentiss corrected, testily.
"Are they even accredited?" Geier wondered aloud.
"That report wasn't even in English for cryin' out loud!" He exclaimed, exasperatedly, as he stared at Brennan. "The real problem here, Doctor Saroyan, is that little miss frosty britches here is worried that I just might be the man to replace her boyfriend, Agent Booth. She's spent more time trying to sandbag me and my investigation than she's spent actually working the case. And when I pushed her to perform, she attacked me – me! I'm a Federal Agent; I can have her arrested for that."
"Right, well I think I've heard enough, Agent Prentiss-" Prentiss wheeled on Cam, interrupting her.
"You need to get your house in order, Saroyan, before she slips her leash again and actually kills someone. I'm telling you, that, that woman is dangerous. If you can't control her, then lock her up," Prentiss shot a sidelong look at Brennan then, "In fact she probably ought to be locked up, just like that criminal father of hers."
Cam gasped at the oblique mention of Max, while Brennan simply stood stoically, enduring the Agent's tirade. Prentiss rocked back on his heels, obviously pleased with himself, a state that lasted less than two seconds.
"Right, well thank you for that Agent Prentiss, I'm now fairly certain I know exactly what happened here," Cam nodded toward Brennan, "Doctor Brennan, Daisy and the skull reconstruction, do I need to ask?"
"She has been instructed to lay out the pieces again, so we can proceed with the reconstruction but at this point I have no confidence in her ability to do it unsupervised."
"Fine, if you don't mind a suggestion?" Brennan nodded, "Call in Fisher, he's the best intern you've got when it comes to multiple fracture patterns, perhaps if he took lead in the reconstruction she might learn something by assisting him?"
Brennan cocked her head briefly; a small smile spread across her lips as she came to her own conclusion, "An excellent idea, I'll contact him at once if you'll let Daisy know for me?
Cam sighed in resignation but gave a nod of agreement, "Of course, and seeing as Fisher and Daisy will be busy the rest of the day with the reconstruction, why don't you take the day off?"
Brennan opened her mouth to argue but Cam shut her down before she could begin.
"Let me rephrase that. I know you want to stay and supervise your interns but you've had a long few weeks, Doctor Brennan." Cam cast a glance at Prentiss and amended her statement, "We've all had a long few weeks without Booth here, but you've obviously not been sleeping well and quite frankly, I'm afraid if you stay there might be bloodshed."
"I'm sorry, Cam, but I would never assault a member of staff."
"I never said anything about the blood being shed belonging to anyone on staff at the Jeffersonian." Cam smiled grimly, "Anyway, I'd like you to go home and get some rest before you break anymore FBI agents. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Cam. Perfectly."
Brennan gave Cam a slight smile and turned to leave, only to stop when she felt the iron grip of Agent Prentiss on her arm.
"This isn't over between us, Doc," Prentiss menaced. "I'll bring you up on charges for assaulting a Federal Agent."
"Do you know the difference between a real alpha male and a beta male who only pretends to have alpha traits, Prentiss? Booth is a true alpha male; he's virile, strong, intelligent, dependable, and fiercely protective of his pack and most of all, he's the best investigator I've ever worked with," Brennan leaned in until she was inches from the red faced Agent. "In short, he's everything you're not. Now take your hand off me before I break your arm."
Prentiss released his hold on Brennan like she was on fire, and watched the woman rapidly disappear past the door to her office. He turned back to Cam who was looking at him in disgust, her contempt no longer veiled, however thinly.
"See? See how she acts? I'm telling you, that bitch is crazy!" Prentiss turned back toward Cam and was shocked at the undisguised anger in her face.
"Agent Prentiss, that 'bitch' just happens to be a brilliant scientist, one of the world's leading forensic anthropologists, and a valued member of my team, so I'd thank you to pick your words more carefully when talking to and about her if I thought it was necessary."
Prentiss's blank look pulled an exasperated sigh from Cam. She reached out and grabbed the Jeffersonian Visitor's pass clipped to his suit pocket and pulled it free, waiving it in front of him.
"Hey! What'd you do that for?" Prentiss protested. "I need that! I'm still working the case, Doctor Saroyan, and as long as I'm your liaison have to grant me access to the evidence and that means the lab."
"There is a very short list of things I have to do in my life, and taking orders from you isn't even close to being one of them." Ignoring the shocked look on Prentiss' face, Cam pulled out her phone and started composing a text message. "Contrary to what you think, Prentiss, the Jeffersonian Medico Legal Lab is not an adjunct of the FBI," Cam looked up from her phone and smiled. "We don't work for you, Agent Prentiss, and your presence here is no longer conducive to an effective work environment."
"B-but I'm still the liaison!"
"Not anymore you're not. You're position as liaison was a purely temporary solution to Agent Booth's being out of town at the symposium. Your time here is over." Cam saw the objection forming on his lips and held up her hand, stopping him instantly. "I know, there's still an active investigation, not to worry. I'll discuss how we'll handle bringing your replacement up to speed when I talk about your abhorrent behavior with Assistant Deputy Director Hacker at our meeting this afternoon."
"Assistant…Hacker?"
"Assistant Deputy Director Hacker," Cam corrected the fumbling agent. "You may know him better as your Boss."
Cam ignored the gobsmacked agent, and turned to the technician beside him, "Mister Geier, since Agent Prentiss won't be our acting FBI liaison, would you mind continuing to work with Doctor Hodgins collecting and analyzing the particulate evidence?"
"Of course, Doctor Saroyan," Replied Geier, barely able to contain his smile. "I was planning on asking to do so anyway. Doctor Hodgins was considering an experiment to determine how the pollen could have gotten inside the wound track, it sounded rather intriguing."
Cam barely contained a groan of defeat at the word 'experiment', and was about to say something when Prentiss, again, interrupted her.
"Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot, Doctor Saroyan," he gave her a smarmy smile. "I can learn to work around Doctor Brennan's issues with me if you can just order her to stop being such a, um, impediment to my investigation."
Cam cocked her head at the Agent and gave him both barrels.
"You have got to be kidding me. I have tried, so hard, to be nice about this, to afford you some modicum of dignity even though you've been intent on alienating and offending each and every member of my team, and yet you still have the balls to stand there and act as if Doctor Brennan's the problem?" Prentiss opened his mouth, Cam promptly closed it, "No, don't say a word Agent Prentiss, I already know what you're going to say. You're going to say that this isn't just about the job or your career, and sure you made some mistakes but this is about an active case and right now the victim deserves better. Right?"
"No. No, I was going to say it's my investigation, not yours, and you're dreaming if you think the FBI will take your word over mine, I'm an FBI Agent for cryin' out loud!"
Cam motioned for the pair of security guards who'd just arrived before turning back to Prentiss.
"And that is why you won't be working on this investigation anymore, Agent Prentiss. Doctor Brennan? She would put the victim's need for justice before her own needs or wants, and Agent Booth? I've seen him pursue a line of inquiry even when it threatened to wreck his career. That's the level of commitment we give to these cases, that's the level of professionalism that's expected here. That's why you're no longer welcome at the Jeffersonian."
"You needed us, Doctor Saroyan?"
Prentiss turned to see that the voice had come from the larger of two very beefy security guards.
"Yes, Agent Prentiss appears to be lost – please show him the exit and escort him off Jeffersonian property."
∙ v ∙
Office door finally in sight, Brennan could still hear Cam and Agent Prentiss arguing. She grabbed the doorknob and let slip a sigh. She was craving the solace of her office and the distractions she could find if she immersed herself in work or writing. There was more than work that awaited her inside, however. There was her very comfortable couch, a shiatsu neck pillow Angela had given her last Christmas that had proven very effective, and more importantly, an old shirt that Booth had left here after their last case together.
As the door swung open her thoughts immediately drifted back to the night she'd come into possession of that shirt. It had been raining and they'd finally wrapped up their latest case. Booth got soaked carrying her kit, and his gym bag, in from the SUV as she ran ahead to the safety of the lab entrance. She could recall with perfect clarity the sight of a wet, panting Booth standing in the doorway of her office. The memory still vivid in her mind, her partner peeling off his jacket and t-shirt in response to her protests that he was getting water everywhere; the protests that died on her lips as she watched the last traces of rain roll down his chest and trail over the well chiseled muscles of his stomach.
With a different type of tension now gripping her body altogether, Brennan stepped into her office and headed directly to the couch. Her mind was focused on thoughts of the shirt, still tucked under the corner pillow of her couch; how the faint scent of Booth would again fill her nostrils, lulling her to sleep. She didn't want to think about the fact that the one thing guaranteed to lull her to sleep was a shirt smelling like her partner, she just wanted two aspirin and a quick nap.
"Hey there, Sweetie."
Brennan froze in a half crouch, inches from the sitting down on the couch. A groan unconsciously crawled out of her throat.
"Angela"
Angela was sitting at her desk, leaning back in the very expensive, very comfortable ergonomic workstation chair that she'd special ordered months ago. Her boot shod feet were propped up on the edge of her mahogany desk; Brennan could almost see the heels of her friend's boots digging shallow channels in the wood.
The artist was clad in a peasant skirt and matching blouse, carelessly tossing a small porcelain pig in the air, the artist looked as relaxed and carefree as ever. Brennan loved her friend, loved her open and giving nature, her joie de vive, the way she sought out the best in every situation. Most of all she loved how Angela saw something in her worth befriending; she was one of the few who never ran from Brennan, never abandoned her, and never would.
Which is why, as irrational as it was, Brennan couldn't understand the desire she had to scream. That was her Jasper.
"Wow, Bren, you look tense," Angela tossed the little pig up in the air, barely catching it by the tips of her fingers. "Oops! Tricky little sucker."
Brennan saw the plastic keepsake tumble in Angela's grip as the artist passed it from hand to hand. Her head could only register 'My Jasper!' but her gut knew what to do. It took just two quick steps to go from the couch to her desk; the plastic porker had just left the artist's hands when Brennan's cat-like reflexes kicked in, allowing her to snatch the treasured figurine out of the air.
"Whoa! Sweetie! If you don't want me touching your toys just say so."
"You shouldn't touch things on people's desks, Angela," Brennan admonished. "Now what can I do for you?"
"Well, for starters, how about dialing it down a notch," Angela snarked. "Seriously Brennan, you've been a real-"
"Bitch?" Brennan snapped.
"What? No!" Angela rocketed to her feet, a horrified look on her face. "Oh God, Sweetie, I would never say that about you. You've just been a little hard to be around lately, that's all. And I'm sure Special Agent Short-Bus hasn't been helping things any either, right?"
"It's alright, Angela. I can admit that I've been more than a little difficult to work with the past few weeks," Brennan absently ran her fingers over the small pig she still clutched to her chest. "I made Wendell cry the other day."
"No!"
"Yes," Brennan hung her head in shame. "He was working on the restoration of a 14th century Andean mummy and the de-humidifier wasn't turned on in the exam room."
"Oh Bren," Angela tried to stifle the laughter that was bubbling up inside her but failed. "Seriously, you made him cry?"
"It's not funny, he was really quite upset," Brennan protested, guiltily.
"I know, I shouldn't be laughing but…Wendell? Crying? Bren, you've got to see the funny here, right? I mean, Wendell's as grounded and tough as they come. He's…he's Booth if Booth was a forensic anthropology grad student instead of an FBI Agent. It's like you're a mean girl who made Booth cry."
"I am not purposefully mean," Brennan protested. "And why would I want to make Booth cry?"
"You wouldn't, it's just the idea of a big strong guy like Booth crying because a girl yelled at him. It's funny, alright?"
"I don't understand."
"Forget it Sweetie, I keep forgetting that you never saw 'Mean Girls'," Angela shook her head in dismay.
"I've known many mean girls, Angela, especially in high school. I was never particularly fond of them, nor did I aspire to be like them."
Angela rolled her eyes at her friend's obliviousness, "Never mind, Bren. It's not important, and it's not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Fine, what did you want to talk about?"
"Geez, Brennan, give me a break. You know, you've been really tense lately, Sweetie, you know what you need?"
"A good night's sleep?" Brennan said tiredly.
"No, I was going to say you need to get laid, but now that you mention it you do look exhausted," Angela gave her a pitying smile. "Been having trouble sleeping lately, Bren?"
"Yes, yes I have," Brennan turned back toward the couch and sat down heavily. "It seems like I am having difficulty achieving REM sleep, and when I do fall manage to reach it..."
"Nightmares?"
"Yes. No," Brennan sighed. "It's complicated."
"Dreams, and some pretty vivid ones too. Am I right?"
"Yes, very," Brennan whispered. "And they won't stop."
"Yeah, I know the kind you're talking about. Hot and steamy, the kind that get you all worked up with the promise of amazing sex but leave you feeling alone and frustrated in the morning," Angela could see the surprise register on Brennan's face. "Relax, Sweetie. I've been there."
"Y-you have?"
"Oh yeah," Angela nodded. "Of course there's one sure-fire cure for those kinds of dreams."
"There is?"
"Of course there is," Angela laughed. "Sex, Honey. Hot, steamy, sweaty, bed-breaking sex. In your case I'd recommend a good solid weekend of it, preferably with a certain FBI stud in the starring role."
Brennan groaned, "Angela, please! I'm in serious need of help. I can't sleep, I'm having difficulty concentrating on my work," Brennan gave her friend a watery smile. "And apparently I'm becoming quite a bitch to be around."
"Brennan, I want you to listen to me – you are not a bitch, okay? Are you a little higher strung than normal right now, yes; more demanding than usual, absolutely. But a bitch? Sweetie, if I wouldn't let anyone else call you that then why should you get away with it?"
Angela pulled Brennan in for a quick hug. When the two pulled apart, the artist gave her friend a heartfelt smile.
"Now do yourself a favor, go home. Take the rest of the day off; tell Cam you've got some personal business to take care of and then take care of business."
"So...you're saying I should masturbate?"
A frustrated sigh escaped, but Angela nodded, "Yes, Sweetie, masturbate, get off, tickle your fancy. Whatever you want to call it, just, just go home, run a hot bath, pour a tall glass of good wine, and log a little personal time with your massaging shower head, alright?"
"Yes, I-I think that's exactly what I'll do." Brennan smiled back, the first genuine smile she'd felt come to her face in nearly three weeks.
A/N: There's a review button there, please feel free to use it and remember, the more specific the better. Its not that I don't love fluffy reviews but I like detailed feedback better. Thanks!