The dude in the dumpster
Chapter nine.
A/N: I know, small chapter, but I've almost finished the next one, so it's going to be up in a day or two. The story is coming to an end, and I just felt like this was a better place to stop. I hope you like it, and without further ado, onto the story.
Disclaimer: Just the fact that I have write these every chapter proves that I don't own it. Duh. That was kind of obvious actually.
Sweets was sitting in his office, waiting for his favourite couple. Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth needed advice on a case, and he was more than happy to help. Well, actually Booth had asked for him, and Brennan had kept insisting that psychology wasn't a science, and that it wouldn't be the least bit useful. So, as usual, he was looking over the case file anyway, and tried to help them as much as possible, knowing that deep down Brennan did care, even though she didn't always show it. His musings were interrupted when the door to his office opened, and the partners entered, and it sounded like they were bickering –what a surprise.
"No, Booth, it's not a rational thing to say. If you were referring to a jar, it would be logical, but in this case you are talking about a person. You can't put a lid on a person, Booth. It's not logical and anatomically incorrect." Ah, that again. She really needed some help on that point; Dr. Brennan still didn't understand most idioms.
"I know, Bones, it's an idiom. It's not meant literally, I know you can't put a lid on a person. Do you really think I'm that dumb?" Booth pouted, and Brennan's expression immediately changed.
"Of course not, Booth. I even think, at some points, you're smarter than me. Of course, you can't identify a body by looking at the remains only, and I highly doubt your IQ would be sufficient to-"
"I get it, Bones, you're smart. Now don't let the boy wait." He pointed to Sweets, who was startled when they suddenly both intently stared at him.
"Agent Booth, I have a doctorate in psychology, I'm not a boy." Sweets wasn't at all offended, he knew Booth liked him, but the whole 'little boy' thing was getting annoying.
"Yeah, sure, great. Now, what do you have?" Brennan gave Booth a look –Sweets was sure they reserved those looks for each other- which Angela had once described as eye-sex. At the time he had insisted they were just staring each other down, but now he actually believed that description was pretty accurate. Content with just watching at the sidelines, studying their behaviour, Sweets sat down in his chair. All of the sudden, they turned to him again and the moment was lost, just as swiftly as it had come. They didn't seem to notice the young shrink's interest in them, and Booth motioned for Sweets to answer his question.
"Well, I've been looking at the pictures from his apartment, and I noticed something." He lifted the photos from the desk in the corner of the room, and held them in front of the partners. "These photos show no evidence that the man who lived here had a psychological disease, and as you can see-"He was cut off when Brennan grabbed the photo out of his hands.
"Sweets, is this a picture of David O'Connell's bedroom, or Michael Smith's?" Sweets grabbed the file, and started searching.
"Um, let's see… This photo was taken in Smith's bedroom."
"Booth, look at this." Booth immediately rushed to her from the other side of the room, and Sweets couldn't help but notice the way the Agent automatically moved his hand to the small of Brennan's back. "Do you see the decoration on this closet? I'll need Angela to confirm it, but I'm fairly certain this is a match for the wound. Moreover, this closet is made out of wood, and it could be Abachi." Happy with this breakthrough, Booth immediately called Gibbs.
"Gibbs, it's Booth. We might have found the murder weapon."
Agents Gibbs, McGee, David, DiNozzo, Booth and Dr. Brennan were standing in the bullpen, staring at a screen in the middle of the room. Tony was holding a remote, and was busy clicking trough images.
"Michael Smith, 31, has a record, an assault charge. He was sentenced to a year in county jail and seven years probation after almost beating a guy to death who had told him to lay off the alcohol in a bar." Tony said.
Brennan, who had been on the phone in a corner, walked towards them. "Angela just compared the wound pattern and the closet's decoration, it's a match, and it's made out of Abachi wood."
"Bring him in." With that, Gibbs walked away, and left the others to arrest Michael Smith.
A/N: I told you it was short, but something happened, right? Don't worry, there's some B&B to come -Actually, a lot- but I'm not sure about the Hodgela anymore. Now that Angela is dating Wendell, I like her a lot less. At the moment, she just doesn't deserve our favourite bugs 'N' slime guy...
