Perfidy: deliberate breach of faith or trust; faithlessness; treachery: perfidy that goes unpunished.
May 11th, 2009: 7:58 am: J. Edgar Hoover Building
As the elevator dinged on the fifth floor, the door opened to reveal Seeley Booth laughing with a few of the men in his division. Two by two they exited the elevator and made their way to their respective desks and offices. Booth moseyed behind the others, and made a quick stop in the break room for a cup of coffee.
As he reached for his mug out of the cabinet a fellow agent who was somewhat familiar to him stepped in, "Sir." He acknowledged Booth.
Booth nodded his head, "Good morning." He responded, filling his cup with the caffeinated beverage and taking a sip. He gagged as the liquid sloshed in his mouth and with a great effort, he swallowed, "You would think that someone who works in the FBI would know how to brew some coffee." He gasped.
The Agent laughed, "I just load it up with sugar and milk and it covers up the taste."
Booth nodded and did as the young Agent suggest, "Later." Booth said as he left the break room and walked down towards his office.
Charlie approached him as he neared his door, "Hey Booth."
"Good morning Charlie." Booth said happily, "What's going on?" he asked.
"I got those files that you asked for regarding murders closely resembling the state of your new victim at the site."
Booth nodded, taking a sip of his coffee and taking the files out of the Agent's hand, "So these all have the pastel stockings and the slice of soap in the victim's mouth?" he asked.
"There are varying similarities in all of these including the positioning of the body post mortum. The ones on the top are the closest matches and the files at the bottom have similarities, but aren't exactly a match. I figure that these could be when the murder might have been first starting…"
Booth nodded, "Figuring out how he liked it. This is excellent work Charlie, thanks." He said smiling at the Agent and turning into his office. He walked around his desk and tossed the stack of files he received to the side of his mail and put his coffee cup down next to the computer monitor.
In the center of his desk sat all of his mail and a brown box that was delivered by UPS. Booth looked at the box cautiously. It was his nature to be suspicious of boxes especially since the people who wanted him dead always had creative ways to try and blow him up.
He opened his center drawer and removed the letter opener from the tray and gently sliced through the brown tape on all sides. He then slowly opened the two flaps on either side, specifically looking for trip wires, a digital time read out or smells of explosive chemicals. Having found none of these, he continued to open the box. When the box was finally opened, Seeley Booth stared into it with a look of confusion and loss.
He slowly reached inside and touched the hard edges of the mold, the mere tactile experience flooding back memories of excruciating pain and weakness. He pulled the first cast out of the box and studied it. It had been a long time since he had needed these, but the first thing that struck him was the first thing that he had said when they were taken off.
"We're going to keep you here for probably another three weeks or so Seeley. You're going to need time for physical therapy and then you will need to work on it at home once you are released." The doctor said.
Booth nodded, "Thanks, doc. So, are you gonna cut them off already or am I going to have to do it myself?" he asked jokingly.
The doctor laughed and gently patted his patient's leg, "Nah. I think I can handle it."
After about twenty minutes, the doctor put down the saw and looked up at Booth, "So, do you feel like a new man?" he asked.
Booth sighed and wiggled his toes lightly, "I never want to see those things again." He said smiling. He dragged his feet up toward him and instantly began touching them, scratching them and massaging them, "I have had that itch for damn near a month now." He laughed.
The doctor smiled, "Well I'm glad you finally got it." Booth smiled up at him and the doctor's face grew more serious, "Sergeant Booth. I have to tell you that despite the fact that everything has healed well, I'm not sure you'll be able to do all of the things that you were once able to."
Booth looked up at him, "What do you mean, I'll walk and all, right?" he asked.
The doctor nodded, "Yes, of course you will, you're not paralyzed. But, you will experience pain; most likely quite often. Over time, it may get better, but it will always be there I'm afraid. You had extensive damage to the bones."
Booth shook his head and smiled, "I'll be fine, doc. Nothing can stop me."
As Booth sifted through pieces of cast that once housed his broken feet he found a note on a small piece of white card taped to the bottom of the box. The note read:
It didn't happen the way you think it did.