Chapter Seven

For what was perhaps the first time in her professional career, she didn't know what to do. There was a case before her with clear evidence of foul play, but, as soon as the remains had become personal, she lost all objectivity and reason. For days, she had been unable to work on anything else – just case number 129-0998. Although she was usually more than dedicated to her work, her zealous determination to solve the murder of the latest limbo victim had managed to rouse the suspicion of her coworkers. But she couldn't allow them to help.

It wasn't that she didn't trust them. Her team was the best in the business. She firmly believed that. But to allow them to help would require that she admit out loud just whose skull it was that she was currently obsessed with, and that was something that Brennan couldn't do. If she said it out loud, then it became true, and, if it was true – that her mother was no longer missing but had actually been dead for many years, then she'd have to deal with everyone else's sympathy and pity, and she was self-aware enough to know that she was awful with handling other people's feelings. Emotionally, she had reached her limit. Her own sorrow and grief were far too great to acknowledge more than just common courtesies and empty platitudes.

Despite wanting peace and privacy, her office door was open so as not to arouse anymore uncertainty. After her performance in Angela's office that morning – visibly becoming agitated and causing a scene, the last thing she needed was for her friend to start asking questions. Goodman wouldn't. Despite the fact that she had begged off testifying, he respected the boundaries between employer and employee too much to question her behavior. She had managed to distract Zack from worrying about her by assigning him his own limbo case, and Hodgins was too busy befriending her new partner to notice her discomposure. However, that still left Angela, and, if she started to show signs of pushing people away, of closing herself off, then her best friend would immediately begin jumping to conclusions. She couldn't have that, not if she wanted her mother's case to remain a secret.

At the sound of two quick, successive raps upon her doorway, Brennan looked up to find the woman of her concern standing before her. With her fists propped upon her cocked hips, Angela asked, "can I come in?"

"Door's open."

"That's not what I asked, Brennan."

Attempting to sound strident with straightforward confidence, she replied, "of course. Come in. What is it that I can do for you? Is it a case?"

Without waiting for invitation, Angela took a seat across from Temperance's desk. "What you can do for me is explain what freaked you out earlier."

"Earlier," she hedged, rummaging through her desk in an effort to appear nonchalant yet busy.

"Bren, did you recognize that woman?"

Hoping that denial would assist her in escaping her friend's intuition, she asked, "what woman?"

"Don't do that. Don't shut me out," Angela insisted passionately.

"But I'm not," she argued. "My door was open, I invited you in, I..."

"I meant emotionally," the other woman interrupted. "When you saw my image rendering of the woman based upon Zack's tissue markers, you had a meltdown."

"I did not," she protested evenly. "I simply disagreed with your work. Although I might have been a little too harsh and I apologize for that – it had been a trying morning, I still stand by what I said. The image was wrong."

"Okay, let's take this one thing at a time," Angela suggested. "What happened this morning?"

Temperance replied, "I couldn't find my original notes. Add to that the fact that everyone needed to speak with me about something. And then David stopped by, and he wanted to discuss my book. It was just too much."

"Honey, you're the best person I know at juggling multiple projects at once. Hell, I think you work better when you're under a level of pressure that would break anyone else's back."

"Not on days when I have to testify in court," she persisted.

"Alright, fine," her best friend relented. "I'll let that one go for now, but that still doesn't explain why you practically lost it on me earlier. I ignored it for a few hours, hoping that you'd cool down, but, sweetie, I have to you. You have me worried. How can you be so sure that my rendering does not fit the tissue markers unless you recognized the woman in the image? Did you know her?"

And, now, it was time for her performance. She knew that she wasn't a good liar. In fact, she did everything within her power to avoid situations where she'd be forced to say anything less than the truth. But she had foolishly reacted emotionally before in Angela's office without thought of the consequences, forcing herself into a corner where she would have to bend and twist the truth. The reality of her situation made her hate whoever it was who killed her mother just that much more... if such a thing was even possible.

"I'm not sure," she finally responded, shrugging her shoulders. "Do you know how you can go years without seeing someone and then catch a glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye? You're not sure if your mind is playing tricks on you or if you really did see what you thought you did, but, either way, it catches you off guard?"

"Is that what happened, Bren," Angela questioned. "Did you recognize that woman from your past?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Just because you might have known who the woman was years ago, that doesn't mean that she's not the same woman whose skull you've been staring at for the past four hours."

"No," Temperance argued. "Upon Zack and Hodgins' initial examination, they determined that this woman died approximately thirteen years ago; the woman I saw from your rendering, the woman I recognized from my past, she died years before that."

"Freaky," her friend sympathized. "That had to have been like seeing a ghost."

"Angela, there are no such things as ghosts."

The other woman laughed, chuckling more to herself than actually projecting her amusement. "Now, there's the Brennan I know and love. What I meant was no wonder seeing that image upset you so much."

"Really, it was just the combination of stresses, and, unfortunately, I took that frustration out on you. Once again, Ang, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, sweetie," the artist assured her, standing up. "It was forgiven the moment it happened. I just wanted to make sure that you're okay."

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't you be," Angela asked rhetorically, moving towards the still open doorway. Before leaving, though, she paused, turning around. "Hey, that woman from your past, she didn't have a twin or even a sister or a cousin who looked a lot like her, did she?"

"No."

"Alright, thanks. I just wanted to check and make sure. I'll have Zack rework the tissue markers and see what I can come up with afterwards."

"Actually, don't worry about it," she told her best friend. "I think I found something unique on her skull that will help me identify her without having to render an image and then send it through all the missing person's databases. I appreciate the offer, though."

"Anytime, Brennan."

As Angela finally waved and then walked away, Temperance slumped in her chair and sighed in relief. Of course, there was no unique feature, but she didn't need any help in identifying case number 129-0998. Without a shred of doubt, she knew the skull before her had belonged to her mother. Now, it was just a matter of solving the case on her own and making sure that her friends and coworkers didn't discover what she herself already knew.

Her first step would be to ostensibly close the case. She'd finish her report, revealing inside of it that the deceased was one Christine Brennan, but then she'd have the file sealed so that no one could have access to it without seeking her permission first. And why would anyone do that? There were thousands of cases in limbo. One anonymous murder wouldn't rouse anyone's particular interest or curiosity. Then, once the case was officially closed, her mother's remains would be buried by the government, and she would then continue to look into the murder on her own.

Though she didn't hold out much hope of ever solving the crime, she'd also never quit... even if, in a selfish, emotionally driven, lack of common sense way, it felt like her mother had quit on her all those years before when she had run away. In hindsight, she shouldn't have been so surprised when Booth quit on her as well. If Brennan had learned one lesson young in life it was that she could only depend upon herself. She had been naïve to think that her partner would be as driven to right the wrongs of the world as she was, that he would stick around when no one else ever had. Eventually, everyone left. Booth had just taken off sooner than anyone, including her, had expected.

With the direction of her thoughts inspiring her, Temperance picked up the phone and placed a call she had been avoiding for several days. When the person on the other line picked up, she immediately introduced herself. "Rebecca, this is Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian. I was your son's father – Seeley Booth's – former partner."

The mother chuckled. "I know who you are, Doctor Brennan. You don't have to introduce yourself to me that way every time you call."

"Yes, of course," she agreed as she always did. Every time Booth sent another set of two plane tickets to her, she and Rebecca went through practically the very same routine.

"So, who are you sending my son with this time? Is it Angela's turn again? You know, I really liked her, but Parker's favorite was Doctor Hodgins. They talked bugs together, apparently, and went exploring on the island."

"Actually, it's someone new this time."

"Oh," the mother responded, "I didn't realize that you added a new member to your team."

"We didn't. Well, not technically. Special Agent Sullivan doesn't work at The Jeffersonian," Temperance answered. "The FBI finally got around to assigning me a new partner. He and Booth have known each other for years, and they're friends. When I mentioned the plane tickets to him and how everyone else has already had a turn of going to Jamaica with Parker, he immediately offered to escort him this time."

"I remember Sully," Rebecca informed her, "but what you said isn't exactly the truth. You haven't taken your turn yet, Doctor Brennan."

"Well, I'm extremely busy right now, and a frivolous trip to accommodate a former partner, one that I didn't even get along with that well, would be a waste of both my time and of my vacation days."

"Of course," the mother agreed. Temperance could hear her amusement in her tone of voice, and it annoyed her.

"Will it be alright for Special Agent Sullivan to escort Parker or not? If it is not alright, then I'll have to start making other arrangements."

"It's fine. Tell Sully to stop by and see me. He can get acquainted with Parker, and we'll work all the details out."

"I will," Brennan agreed.

Without waiting for Rebecca to say goodbye or without making the effort to conclude the conversation herself, she simply hung up and proceeded to return to her work. If Booth couldn't be bothered to stay, then she refused to go. No matter how many plane tickets he sent to her, she'd never take Parker to see him in Jamaica. The sooner he realized that, the better off they'd both be. Perhaps sending Special Agent Sullivan would finally get that point across. If not, though, she'd simply have to try something else. If Booth hated his life so much that he felt he had to run away, then who was she to argue? As far as she was concerned, they were out of each other's lives. For good.