Jabberwocky, Concluded
In the midst of their examination of Hector Patterson's remains, Daisy took a silent moment to relish the experience of standing beside Dr. Brennan as a partner and equal, rather than in the role of student, protégé, or intern. She had come a long way since first stepping through the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab's entrance, not only professionally, but personally as well. Her self-control had increased exponentially through the devoted tutelage of her beloved Lancelot.
She'd always known she was smart and noticed details which others overlooked, but it had taken intense effort to become a restrained and deliberate professional. Her nature was bombastic, impulsive, eager to dive right in. Her field of endeavor was studious, thorough and somewhat subdued when successes came. There was a time and place for exuberant glee over a discovery, but circumstances which called for decorum and seriously supporting one's claim with a plethora of facts, figures, and statistics.
With subtle nudging from Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan had loosened up over the years; and conversely, she had become more disciplined and reflective. The gradual adjustment and honing of their personalities had brought them alongside one another in mutual respect and admiration. She would remember and treasure this cooperative consulting opportunity for the rest of her life. She remembered her surprise upon spotting Brennan's email message and how thrilled beyond words she'd felt reading her former mentor's request for a consult. It was a pinnacle for her, not the first nor the last, but perhaps the most significant; because it involved the woman who had been her role model for so long.
Neither woman noticed the time as they worked side by side, discussing what Brennan had observed, the data her current assistant had compiled, the models and work-ups Angela had designed. Lunch time came and went as Daisy entered trends, facts, and figures into her predictive perpetrator algorithm. She glanced at Brennan, ready to share her initial assessment, and noticed her colleague's twinkling blue eyes and wide smile.
"We got him, didn't we?" Brennan asked.
Yup, I think we've nailed him! We have solid evidence here that the person who performed this horridly botched surgery on Hector Patterson's pharynx was William Huntington!" Daisy declared.
Just as she began describing the parameters of her model, a male voice boomed across the lab.
"Bones, it's past lunchtime!" Booth announced. "Let's go to the diner! Sweets will come haunt me if I don't feed Daisy properly! I'm not taking no for an answer."
"Agent Booth, we've got your suspect," Daisy told him. "All the data we've collected correlate to his M.O."
"The incisions, the stitches we've observed and documented—all the elements of this wretchedly-executed tonsillectomy match his methods perfectly. If I didn't know his cruel motivation, I'd consider him totally inept. His turning to crime is a tragic waste of education and talent, if you ask me," she finished.
"That sounds great! I wanna hear all the details, Daisy; after we eat! I understand you've given expert testimony before; I think Caroline will want you to testify for us when Thompson goes to trial. And, Daisy, call me Booth!"
"I'm glad I could be a help to you guys," Daisy said.
"We both appreciate it, kiddo!" Booth smiled. "Sweets would be proud of you; is proud of you."
"Yes, Daisy, thank you and Booth is correct. Sweets would heartily approve of what you've accomplished professionally and how well you're raising little Lance!" Brennan agreed.
"And as for eating, Booth, we are both famished, so you'll get no argument from us about heading to the diner."
"Then, chop, chop, ladies. As Pops would say 'let's vamoose; time's a-wastin'!"
