Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, and I'm not making any money off of this. More's the pity.
Note: I'm one of the multitudes who was dissatisfied by the Season 3 finale. This is my attempt to get some lemonade out of those lemons and indulge my love of shadowy government agencies at the same time.
"Cassandra?"
"Back here," came the absentminded reply. Vivian stepped around the partition and into Cassandra's work space, which was, if possible, even more disorganized than usual.
"Rather messy, isn't this?" Vivian inquired, and Cassandra shrugged as she turned around to face the British psychologist.
"I know where everything is." She looked through Vivian rather than at her, but after eight years Vivian was used to it. "You have something for me."
It wasn't a question. Cassandra didn't tend to ask questions. There was no point in asking when she already knew the answers. Vivian usually answered as though they were questions, however, mostly because she preferred the illusion that they were actually having a normal conversation.
"I do," Vivian said, showing her the stack of folders she held. By agreed-upon convention, she didn't attempt to hand anything to the younger woman; Cassandra would pick them up if she chose.
She chose. Her fingers brushed Vivian's as she took the folders, and she nearly dropped the whole stack, but recovered admirably and managed to set them down on her desk without losing any of them.
Vivian didn't remark on the physical contact or Cassandra's response to it. For Cassandra, that was a mild reaction to being touched unexpectedly.
"These are all of them."
"All of the males between the ages of eighteen and thirty who are currently institutionalized in the US and have a known skill set that would be compatible with your work here." She watched as Cassandra flipped through the files, seemingly at random. "If I knew what you were looking for, I might be able to be of more assistance."
"If I knew what I was looking for, I would have found it already," Cassandra pointed out, picking up another file as she discarded the one she held. "I'm not…"
Her voice trailed off as her eyes glazed over. Vivian had the presence of mind to catch the file as Cassandra dropped it, setting it back on the desk as she counted in her head. Ten seconds of trance was all Cassandra was currently allowed, after the latest debacle, and after that Vivian had every intention of taking the glass of water off of the desk and tossing it in her face. She was in no mood to deal with another of the young woman's unresponsive states.
She made it to eight before Cassandra blinked, clenching her hands reflexively.
"Found it?" Vivian asked mildly. Cassandra shook her head as though to clear it and picked the file up again, gingerly this time. She paged through it until she found the face sheet where the subject's information was listed.
"Him," she informed Vivian, sounding relieved. "It's him."
Vivian took the file back, nearly as relieved as Cassandra was. The blonde had gone into one of those unresponsive trances four months ago. It had lasted far longer than Vivian was comfortable with, and when she came out of it she insisted that she'd sensed someone somewhere who was supposed to become her partner. Vivian had been delighted - she'd been trying to talk Cassandra into taking a partner for nearly five years - but the lack of details about this mystery person she was supposed to find had made her job extremely difficult.
Through a motley assortment of methods, from plain old detective work to high-tech computer hacking and one questionable attempt at scrying in the lake that ended in a spectacular splashing war, their team had narrowed the range of candidates from the entire population of the world to these twelve files. At this point, Vivian didn't care who this man was or what strings she would have to pull to have him transferred to Pine Hills. At least now they could all stop looking for him and start getting some actual work done.
"Oh, Cassandra, he's handsome," Vivian pointed out hopefully, holding up the photo that had been clipped to the face sheet. "He has a very nice smile."
"You're not very subtle, Dr. Carrington," Cassandra pointed out. Vivian shrugged.
"What's the point of subtlety when you already know what I'm thinking?" she rebutted, clipping the picture back onto the page. "Hmm. McKinley. State institution. Understaffed, underfunded…getting him transferred to Pine Hills shouldn't be any trouble."
"You're disappointed." Cassandra sounded amused. "What, you wanted to have to fight the system to get him?"
"I enjoy the occasional battle against governmental authority," Vivian allowed, not bothering to try and hide her own amusement. "Try and stay out of my head, would you?"
"Would if I could," Cassandra replied gaily, handing Vivian the rest of the files. "When do you think you'll have him here?"
Typically, the amount of wheel-greasing and assorted paperwork that had to be done to transfer a patient from a state institution to a private one took several weeks. Vivian had been planning for this eventuality for nearly a month, however, and she'd been pushing for Cassandra to take on a partner for far longer than that. And on top of it all, he was a reasonably attractive young man near Cassandra's own age. She was certain that she could speed things along considerably.
"Very soon." She looked down at his file, now perched triumphantly on top of the stack of possibilities. "Zachary Addy. Welcome to the team."
Zack didn't have visitors on Thursdays. Hodgins and Angela visited on Saturdays, Sweets came every Wednesday, and if Dr. Brennan or Agent Booth visited, it was usually on Sunday afternoon. He was surprised, therefore, when one of the orderlies came to find him in the day room and told him there was a visitor waiting for him in one of the consultation rooms.
He abandoned his solitary game of chess without a second thought. He'd never seen the point of playing against himself, since he knew exactly what strategy he was using and how to counter it, but there was no one else in McKinley anywhere near his level of skill. Once he'd tired of beating Bill from 5C and Larry from 6A in under ten minutes, he'd begun playing against himself out of sheer boredom. His occupational therapist approved, saying that the fine motor control required to manipulate the pieces was good for his still-healing hands. It was also a way to make the long hours go by.
He didn't recognize the woman waiting for him in the consultation room, and he was fairly certain he would have remembered her if he'd met her before. She was very tall for a woman, approximately six feet, and her hair was a very bright shade of auburn. She smiled at him like she knew him, so he smiled tentatively back, and she rose to her feet.
"You must be Dr. Zachary Addy," she greeted him, and he nodded, grateful that she was observant enough not to extend her hand for him to shake. "I'm Dr. Vivian Carrington. I'm a psychologist. Feel free to call me Vivian."
"Nice to meet you," he said, careful to observe the social pleasantries that several of the therapists here kept pointing out his tendency to forget. "I already have a psychologist. Several, in fact."
She waved her hand airily, as though shooing away the suggestion of his other psychologists.
"I'm not here to analyze you, Dr. Addy. I have a proposition for you."
"A proposition?"
"I am part of a clandestine team that investigates various crimes by private contract with the CIA, MI-5, and several other intelligence agencies. We specialize in the identification and stratification of terroristic threats, finding missing persons, and solving 'cold cases', which we define as the resolution of felony crimes, mainly homicides, committed greater than ten years ago with no current investigative leads."
Zack stared at her. "That's interesting," he said at last. "Uh, why are you here? Telling me this?"
"Because, Dr. Addy," she replied, leaning forward in her chair, "we would like you to join us."
"I am currently institutionalized in a state hospital for the criminally insane," he pointed out. "I must admit to a considerable amount of confusion as to what, exactly, I could do to assist your organization from here."
"You wouldn't," Vivian said calmly. "Here is what I'm offering, Dr. Addy. You will be transferred to the Pine Hills Residential Facility, which is, by the way, a good deal more comfortable than McKinley. While there, you will receive whatever psychiatric and medical treatment you require to deal with the unpleasantness that resulted in your current institutionalization. Your initial term with us will last one month, at the end of which we will meet again and discuss whether your participation in the team has been sufficiently beneficial. If it has, you will remain with us at Pine Hills until I am satisfied that you are able to function in society, both in general and specifically without risking recidivism of your previous criminal actions, and then you will be released on your own recognizance with the full support of the court. I hope that after this occurs, you will continue to work with our team, as most of our members have."
"This is extremely irregular," Zack said, not certain how to respond. "Will the US Attorney's office allow this arrangement to occur?"
"I did mention we work with the CIA, did I not?" Vivian said pointedly. "I assure you that this scenario has played itself out several times with satisfactory results for all involved."
"You said if my participation in the team was sufficiently beneficial, I would be allowed to stay. What if it isn't?"
"Then you will be transferred back here; no harm, no foul." She leaned forward again, catching and holding his gaze. "With one notable exception, Dr. Addy. Our team prides itself on remaining covert. If you were to reveal any details of our existence to anyone outside of the team, you would not survive the experience."
She watched patiently as he mulled the idea over. Here, kitty kitty, she thought, hoping she'd enticed him enough to convince him to join them. If she hadn't, Cassandra was going to make her life hell.
"I should add," she said, when his pondering had taken too long for her comfort, "that this is a unique opportunity for you, Dr. Addy. Regardless of the eventual outcome of your psychiatric treatment, the fact remains that you have confessed to felony murder and been declared non compos mentis by the court. You will never be able to testify as to your scientific findings in court as a reliable expert witness again, so your work at the Jeffersonian Institute has come to a definitive end. I believe you would have serious trouble finding any academic institution to accept you as either faculty or student with this unfortunate stain on your record."
He seemed more resigned than upset at her assessment of his future opportunities or lack thereof, which meshed with the profile she'd already formed of him: extremely logical, very self-contained, and emotionally stunted. She was probably only restating things he'd realized and accepted months ago.
"Our organization, however, is unconcerned with your past history so long as it does not interfere with your ability to perform the tasks that we request of you."
"You don't care if your team members murder people?"
"We don't care if they have murdered people, Dr. Addy, so long as they don't do it again. Our assessments are classified and are not used in official court proceedings, so we don't care if the court doesn't trust you. If we are satisfied with your work and we trust you, then that will suffice."
"What would my work entail?" he asked finally, and Vivian exercised all of her formidable self-control to keep from grinning. She had him.
"At this point, I would say mainly the determination of cause of death in cold homicides and the identification of heretofore unidentified skeletons. Once you've worked with us for a while, I'll have a better idea of your skill set and how best to employ it."
"That seems…rational." She could tell from his tone that he wasn't entirely convinced, but he was going to agree anyway. In all honesty, they really were his best option. "I…would like to accept your offer."
"Excellent!" This time she let the grin slip, and was rewarded with a hesitant smile from her team's newest member. He clearly had severely impaired social functioning - Asperger's at least, and from what she'd read in his file, she wouldn't be surprised if there were elements of post-traumatic stress on top of that - but despite it, he managed the basic give and take of conversation and replied to her social smile with one of his own. It was better than she'd expected. She couldn't wait to introduce him to Cassandra.