HIS BONES
Brennan: So the moniker is a sign of affection.
Angela: Very good, Brennan. You never had a nickname?
Brennan: Oh, no. Just what Booth calls me, just... just Bones.
His bones tell that his metatarsals show multiple fractures consistent with beating the soles of the feet with pipes or hoses, from when he was tortured in the Middle East.
The right kneecap has distinctive signs of an intensive young sport activity, interrupted due to a ligament's fracture.
Rib pitting show that the ribcage spread in such a way that suggest the presence of damage from when he was trying to shield someone.
His lumbar region has sustained a slight misalignment, due to a compression fracture of the T3, that gave him occasional backaches that should have incapacitated him years ago.
The release of synovial gas at morning makes his bones cracking, because there comes a point when your body can't hide all the abuse it's taken.
He has a fracture in his sternum from when he was shot in his chest.
And his ligaments, both intertransverse and interior longitudinal, are compromised.
I'm an expert in the field, the best Forensic Anthropologist in the world, I know what I'm talking about.
I could draw the map of his body, if I would want to.
What his bones do not say is that he was tortured to fight to protect his Country, that he accepts the interpretation that sports are a childish substitute of war, because he has experienced the joys of the first and the horrors of the second.
That his ribs are pitted because he tried to saved a brother-in-arms at the cost of sacrificing his own life.
That in spite of his backache is sometimes unbearable, he could bear it and run to help his colleagues.
That the bullet that hit him in the chest was addressed to me.
That the map of his body doesn't tell only his medical record, but narrate his heart too.
The heart of a strong man, generous, willing to sacrifice himself, faithful to his Country, stubborn, resolute, wise, sensible and... in love... with me.