Author's Note: From here on in, this story has been taken hostage. I don't normally do this, but I have the next few chapters prepared and I waited a whole week for someone to post a review on the last chapter. So, I won't post a chapter until I get a review on the newest. I only want one review per chapter, guys. Tell me what you like, what you don't like, what you hope will happen, what you hope won't happen, if I'm in-character or OOC…
Also: Just because you post a review doesn't mean the next chapter will be up the next day. I may run out of buffer chapters and have to write faster, or have my internet go down or something. But reviews will help me update faster.
Brennan stepped up to the front desk, setting Christine's seat on the ground.
"Hello, welcome to Pauly's Psychiatric Care Centre, how can I help you?" The woman behind the desk greeted them.
"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan, I was told Dr. Zachariah Addy left a note for me."
"Let's see, Dr. Addy..." She typed on her computer, her forehead wrinkling as she scrolled. "I'm sorry, we don't employ a Dr. Addy, ma'am."
"Dr. Addy is- was a patient here." She faltered a bit and Booth squeezed her hand reassuringly. The woman typed on her computer for a moment.
"Yes, here we go, Dr. Stilson has marked an appointment with you in a few minutes concerning Mr. Addy. His office is just down this hall, take the first left, fourth door on your right." She smiled.
"Thank you." Bones picked up Christine's seat and led the way to Dr. Stilson's office.
"Pauly's Psychiatric Care Center?" Booth whispered.
"Yes, you didn't know the full name?" She followed his example and lowered her voice.
"No, I just referred to it as the psych center and everyone knew what I was talking about. So the initials are PPCC?"
"Yes, why do you find this so important?"
"I'll tell you after." He chuckled. "Not proper to talk about right now." She moved it to the back of her mind and knocked on Dr. Stilson's door.
"Dr. Brennan, please enter." A tall black man welcomed them into the office. It wasn't so small for them to be uncomfortably close, but not so large that the desk and 3 chairs took up undue space. Dr. Stilson sat behind his desk and motioned them to the two remaining chairs. "Dr. Brennan, I understand you had a relatively close relationship with Mr. Addy. We found a sealed envelope in his room with your name on it." Dr. Stilson passed it to her before turning to Booth. "I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Dr. Ronald Stilson, I was Mr. Addy's psychologist and psychiatrist."
"Seeley Booth, I'm Dr. Brennan's boyfriend. I also knew Zach, but not as well." The men shook hands and waited patiently while Brennan read Zach's letter. Booth rubbed her shoulder when he noticed her blinking back tears.
"Zach, he, uh-" She paused to take a calming breath.
"You can do this. Try just the facts." Booth encouraged.
"He writes that while he knows his depression is due to a chemical imbalance, further aggravated by the medication, he does not feel like he's serving a purpose here, with no hope of re-entering the working world. He's taking up space that could be used to rehabilitate another patient, one with a chance of recovery. Logically, the only way to make space for another patient is to remove one here." Booth placed his hand over hers and she clasped it tightly, taking another breath, slightly shaky. "He just didn't see a point to staying here for the rest of his life, not producing anything, not moving forward, and formed logical reasoning to support his conclusion. It's a very immature form of false reassurance. The chemical imbalances the antidepressants caused didn't help things. Did anyone notice any indications of his depression getting worse?"
"Well, hindsight is 20-20, and there were a few minute changes in his behavior, but nothing to suggest he was suicidal."
"Hey, uh, what I don't get, how did the antidepressants make him more depressed?" Booth interjected.
"Well, Zach was taking Prozac, an SSRI, those work by preventing the reuptake of serotonin by the presynaptic neuron, thus maintaining higher levels of serotonin in the synapse." Bones explained.
"Serotonin is a feel-good chemical, that's about all I've got." Booth stated. Dr. Stilson smiled at them. "To answer your question in layterms, Mr. Booth, before the serotonin takes effect and elevates a person's mood, it elevates their energy. So they still feel depressed, but they feel the motivation to do something about it, which usually leads to suicide attempts. I'm afraid that happened with Mr. Addy. We had many discussions about logic, and about how it must be viewed through a filter of the social norms. It appears that I didn't make enough of an impression."
"He believed his logic to be infallible, and for the greater good." Bones told him. "If you don't mind my asking, how much autonomy and privacy did Zach have?"
"Quite a bit. He followed all the rules, didn't antagonize any of the other patients and was here indefinitely. He was allowed paper on his desk, given mostly free reign when he wasn't in therapy. He was given almost everything he requested, such as sudoku puzzles, cipher games, things to occupy his time and intellect, and most recently an envelope. We monitored the activity in his room with a security camera, and searches weekly. None of the desks have drawers, and the beds were stripped and checked underneath. We didn't find any evidence that he was having suicidal thoughts."
"Is it- Could we see his body?" Bones asked, Booth squeezing her hand when she faltered.
"Of course." Dr. Stilson led them to the elevator, Bones refolding the letter and slipping it into her back pocket. "Would you like to know how he died?"
"Please."
"Heart attack due to insulin overdose."
"Insulin? That's practically undetectable." Even her own team would have trouble identifying it as cause of death.
"We found him in an exam room in the infirmary, insulin in one hand, needle in the other. Security camera confirmed chain of events." They followed him through the morgue, where he checked Zach's chart and pulled out a body drawer. He was covered by a white sheet from his shoulders to his ankles, only slightly paler than he should have been.
"Oh, Zach." She set down Christine's seat on the floor, stroking his face. "How long were you hiding this?" She felt a sob rising in her chest, her face contorting. "Why didn't you talk to me? You checked your logic about everything else but this." She turned into Booth, tears running down her face. He held her close as she shook from the emotion overwhelming her.