Chapter Four

"Can you tell us, Dr. Addy, what it was that you found on the bones of Ms. Sara Pullen?" asked the stern-faced lawyer.

A few months before, Zack had participated in a case that, of course, had gone on to become a trial. Since his "promotion," Brennan and Camille had been preparing him to testify as an expert witness. Zack had a feeling that they'd be using him a lot, if not for experience, then at least to avoid doing it themselves.

"To begin, a large piece of the cranium was missing. I also found that the right arm had been broken," replied Zack, a little anxious about testifying for the first time. The thought of contributing to whether or not a murderer was convicted was a little nerve-wracking, after all.

The lawyer continued with her direct examination. "Were you able to establish the cause of these injuries?"

"Using my knowledge of tools, I matched the puncture wound to one of the defendant's saws. The tool also contained a small, almost overlooked blood sample that matched Ms. Pullen."

"What about the broken arm?" pushed the persecutor further.

Zack continued with his testimony, just as he had rehearsed both at the lab and at the DA's office. "According to the fracture pattern, the manner in which the bone was broken was violent."

"Please elaborate, Dr. Addy."

"A natural break would have looked differently than that of Ms. Pullen. Rather, the break in her arm is conspicuously unnatural. Part of the break seems normal, but the rest is was actually sawed through."

The lawyer ended her direct with the question, "So there is no possible way that Ms. Pullen's arm was accidentally or naturally broken?"

"No, there isn't. The arm was deliberately broken and cut."

"Thank you. I have no more questions."

0-0-0-0-0

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asked the judge as the jury foreman stepped up.

"We have," she replied with an air of solemnity. "We, the jury, find the defendant, James Norton, in the count of murder in the second degree… guilty."

All around him, Zack could hear sighs of relief from the prosecutors. It had taken the DA nearly three months to build a case against this murderer, and in all honesty, they probably would have lost without his testimony.

After the court let out, Zack was approached by one of the opposing council.

"Dr. Addy, correct?" asked the surprisingly young lawyer. It would have made more sense for the defense to use an older and more experienced attorney.

"Yes, that's me." Zack had decided to interact with the man. He was kind of cute.

The defense attorney smirked at him. Not a condescending smirk, though; it was definitely flirtatious. "I was wondering if I could ever convince you to join me sometime."

"I'm sorry, but it's Jeffersonian policy to provide testimony only for the prosecution," Zack said firmly.

"I'm afraid you've misunderstood me," said the lawyer with a small laugh. "I was asking you out on a date."

"Oh," said Zack. "Oh, oh…" he continued, just now understanding. "Well, I'd love to, but…"

"But, what?" asked the cute lawyer. "You're not gay? I'm rarely wrong about this sort of thing."

"No, I am," Zack assured him. "But I sort of have a boyfriend."

"I see," the attorney said, obviously a bit disappointed. He pulled out a card and handed to Zack.

"If you break up with this boyfriend sometime soon… or just want to hook up… then give me a call." Then he walked away.

Before he was gone, Zack called out to him. "What's your name?"

The lawyer turned around and smirked. "Michael." With that, he left.

0-0-0-0-0

Half an hour later, Zack walked back into the Jeffersonian. He was now tired from everything that had happened that day and was ready for Hodgins to take him home. Sitting down at a table in the lounge area, he didn't get the chance to ask his roommate for a ride. Within minutes, he was asleep.

"He looks so peaceful," said Booth, sitting across from his lover. Ten or fifteen minutes had passed since the scientist had laid his head down.

"I know," said a voice from behind him. "He always looks that way when he sleeps. Haven't you ever noticed?"

"Yeah, Hodgins, I have," Booth returned irritably. He swiveled the chair around to face his coworker. "Do you have something to say to me?"

The entomologist glared at him. "Actually, yes. I think that you're hurting him. Whether he knows it or not, your relationship with him is causing more harm than good. A lot more harm."

"What the fuck do you mean?" demanded Booth. "How am I 'hurting him?'"

"Are you serious?" said Hodgins, shocked. "This relationship is absolutely toxic. No matter how many times you fuck him, he'll never get what he wants. A boyfriend. Someone to love him."

Booth was silent for a minute. Then he said, almost in a whisper, "But I do love him."

"Then why won't you commit to him?"

"What do you know?" asked Booth, his anger returning. "Before this morning, you didn't even know that your best friend was gay."

"Yeah, I live with the guy and couldn't tell that he was a homosexual. I figured it out a few weeks after he moved in. Don't even try to pull that card with me. Now answer my fucking question."

For once, Booth was stumped. He had nothing witty to say to that. After several seconds, he finally managed to answer. Truthfully.

"The last time I had a relationship with a man," began Booth, "my life got royally fucked up."

Clearly interested, Hodgins pursued the story.

"We were eighteen and in our senior year. I had already slept around with quite a few girls but knew I wanted something else too. We saw each other one day in the locker room. After everyone else left, we jerked each other off under the hot water of the shower."

As a heterosexual man, Hodgins was slightly put out by the description of homosexual erotica, but he continued to listen.

"We started doing everything two horny gay or bisexual men could do. Two months into our relationship, his dad walked in on us having sex. He chased me out of the house, but Danny was in the hospital for a week."

"I stayed with him every single day, leaving only to avoid his mother. She only visited for a few minutes to pray, crying, over her son as he slept."

Now Hodgins was riveted with the FBI agent's anecdote.

"He finally recovered and we thought that we could go on like it was before. But things just got worse."

"There was a special spot where we went to just get away from all the shit of the world. It was a nice beach with a large rock formation where we could sit and talk for hours and hours. One day, we went out there. We had moved into this tiny one-bedroom apartment and felt practically invulnerable."

"That night, we didn't know that the local football team was having a bonfire party at the beach. Danny and I had been there since early afternoon and hadn't expected a bunch of visitors."

"Once we realized what was going on, we tried to sneak away to avoid any… unpleasantness," Booth said with a snort. "But then some soap opera typical shit happened. Some idiot jocks chased us down and knocked Danny down. He hit his head on a rock. Died instantly."

Hodgins was now in shock. He'd never imagined that Booth's past was so intensely sorrowful. "Were they prosecuted?" he asked softly.

"Somewhat. Two of the football players got fifteen years for man slaughter. They claimed that our 'inflammatory disregard for social norm' caused their homicidal urges to just 'spring up.' They were out eight years later. I know… I kept track of everything they did."

Their talk was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Brennan then appeared at the top of the stairs, looking expectantly at her colleagues.

"Have the two of you argued, reconciled, and gotten ready to help me with this case?" Brennan asked, her tone completely devoid of any intelligible emotion.

Booth smiled teasingly at his coworker. "Of course, Bones. What else could we have been doing for the past ten minutes?"

"I don't know, and I don't really care," Brennan said, "I just want everyone to get back to work. Including Zack."

"Uh, Bones?" said Booth. "First of all, if you haven't noticed, Zack's had bit of a hard day; you could cut him a little slack."

"We don't have time for slack," Brennan said defensively.

"And second," continued Booth as if he never been interrupted, "It's almost seven. We should all be going home to get some rest. It's not time to be working hard."

"Guess that means I have to wake him up anyway," said Jack regretfully. "I always hate waking people up. It's so invasive."

Booth stayed his friend's hand. "Don't," he said. "I'll take him home."

"But I'm going; I might as well take him myself," Hodgins argued.

"I didn't mean your home, Jack," explained Booth. "Zack and I need to have a long, private talk. And we should do it tonight."

Hodgins nodded his head, knowing that the next day, things would be different for his friend. Either he would be the happiest man on earth, or Zack Addy would be the most miserable.

Please tell me if you have any suggestions on the Booth/Zack thing. I've refrained from a lot of NC-17 description, but if the people want it, I will give it to them. Let me know.