A/N: So, yet again, another chapter...Thanks for all of your reviews!!! You guys really are awesome! Beyond awesome, really. So, yeah. Thanks.
Disclaimer: Still not mine. I just borrow them for my own amusement. I suppose I do have ownership over Rachel, though. She's my own little creation.
-CHAPTER 9: Some Answers-
The car ride past in absolute silence. Rachel didn't mind it, though. It was probably better that way. Talking could wait till later. Rachel stole the occasional glance at the woman driving the car. Angela was a pretty woman, she decided. Her frame was frail, and faint lines curved around her bright red lips, indications that she had spent her life smiling. Good,Rachel thought. A woman as kind as Angela deserved to smile. A few white roots sprouted from her scalp, but she obviously took the time to restore her natural black color using dye. With a heavy heart, Rachel noticed that every now and again, Angela swiped at her eyes, quickly erasing any tears.
Perhaps silence is easier, Rachel mused. It's been thirteen years, for god's sake. It'll take more than a ten minute car ride to tell thirteen year's worth of stuff. Especially considering the circumstances…
Rachel had always thought of tears as signs of weakness and vulnerability. She didn't cry often, but as of late, it seemed to become a ritual habit. Tearless bouts reserved themselves for happier, less complicated times. Before her life had been turned upside down. Before her parents were F.B.I. agents and doctors.
Even the walk to the restaurant was spent without any pointless chatter. The waiter brought them their drinks: a steamy cup of coffee and a large cherry coke. Still, nothing but silence. Rachel watched as Angela peeled the tops off a few plastic milk containers and then poured the creamy concoction into the dark liquid. She stirred with her stained spoon, swishing the cloudy mixture until it was a light brown. Rachel sipped her coke, trying to think of something to break the silence. Nothing.
Luckily she didn't have to. "It was hard, Rachel."
Rachel looked up from the ice cubes she had been fiddling with. Hard? What was that supposed to mean? After a few more moments of that deafening silence, she manned up and murmured, "What was hard?"
After taking another prolonged sip of coffee, Angela inhaled deeply. "Your mother, Rachel. The situation we were all in. She's a strong, strong woman. Stubborn as all hell, but strong. Seeing her that weak…" Her voice trailed off, but after a sniffle, she found it again. "I should probably start from the beginning."
"The beginning sounds good," Rachel whispered.
Angela nodded, yet her resolve weakened when she parted her lips. Her chin quivered, a last ditch attempt to thwart a heart wrenching sob. The poor woman was a wreck. So haggard and anxious. Rachel gnawed on her lip. It was her fault. All of this, she decided, was her doing.
With a tight smile, Angela began to speak. "As you already know, you're mother is a forensic anthropologist working at the Jeffersonian. She specializes in identifying human remains in partnership with the F.B.I., which is where your father comes into the picture." She stopped momentarily to swallow another sip of that coffee. Rachel had always seen coffee to be the equivalent of cigarettes; they both calmed the nerves. "Bones, he called her. Still does. A term of endearment, if you will."
A pained smile curled Rachel's lips. "That's nice."
"Yeah, it is, Sweetie."
"Well, go on," Rachel said eagerly.
Angela drew a near silent sigh. "Right. Things went smoothly at first." She laughed ruefully and shook her head as if trying to rid the memories her comment had conjured. "Let me rephrase that: things went agreeably. Booth would be all cop-ish, Brennan would resent that, and then they'd lock up the bad guy, you know? Partners. That's what they were. Partners through thick and thin."
"Partners?" Rachel asked tentatively.
"Yeah, partners."
"What kind of cases did they work?"
"Murder, honey."
"Murder?" It was then when she realized the absurdity of it all. She was alone. She had left home with the hopes of finding answers, and she only found more questions. More ambiguity. More despair. Her parents—the ones who had abandoned her—solved murder cases. Murder. Death. No wonder she was given up.
"It wasn't all bad, Sweetie," Angela reassured. "We had fun. Bren and Booth, me and Hodgins, hell, Zach, too...We had fun in a twisted sort of way—"
Rachel cut her off without warning. "Why do you call everyone by their last name?" Admittedly, Temperance and Seeley weren't the most common of names, but surely there was another way to address people. Last names just seemed too impersonal.
Angela shrugged. "The F.B.I. does it, so we kind of took on the practice. But not all of us go by our surnames. Imagine Zach being called Addy…or me Montenegro…It depends on the last name, I suppose. Brennan just works. Booth just works. Hodgins just works. Montenegro, Saroyan, and Addy just don't click, I guess."
"Oh. Sorry. Go on." Rachel had hoped there was a story behind it, but there were more important issues to dwell on. Much more important, indeed.
"Their—your parents', I mean—chemistry was undeniable. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Granted, a very complicated, ten-thousand piece puzzle, but a puzzle nonetheless." She paused and emitted a girly sigh, much like that of a love struck teen. "Sound cheesy?"
Rachel nodded, not bothering to erase her smirk.
"Ah, well...They always say I'm just a hopeless romantic."
Rachel nodded and situated herself so as to accommodate for the plate stacked high with food that the waiter had placed before her. Gently, almost hesitantly, she reached for a fry from the golden pile and wedged it between her teeth. She munched on it, hoping to deflect any hints of apprehension. A calm façade, she reasoned, would ward off indications of uneasiness.
"You okay there, hun?"
Rachel looked up, trying to appear brave. "Yeah, sure. Really. I'm fine." Her voice, edged with anxiety, had failed her.
Angela swiftly reached across the table and joined her hand with Rachel's. "And here's yet another trait inherited from your mother." A wrinkle of dry humor wormed its way into her words.
Rachel dared to meet her eyes with Angela's. "And what trait would that be?"
"The tendency to hide your emotions till you're nothing but one frustrated wad of psychology."
Rachel sighed. She felt as though she was merely a shell; an empty, broken shell with all signs of life erased from existence. Maybe she really did hide her emotions. But it was so much easier that way. Less people constantly badgering her to cave and tell them what was bothering her, less tears and fears getting in the way of more important things, one less thing clouding her objectivity.
Angela tightened her grip on Rachel's hand, gaining her attention once more. "But you have to realize that the effects can be disastrous...catastrophic, even. Without an outlet, those pesky feelings just multiply. One of these days, those emotions that seemed so easy to just cast away are going to make their own outlet—they're going to explode. Don't learn that the hard way, Rachel. Don't make the same mistake your mother made."
"What did Mom do?" Rachel was barely restraining her tears. Heeding Angela's advice, she let a few slip down her cheek, sentiments of the abandonment and fear boiling in her blood.
"Are you sure you're ready Sweetie?"
Rachel nodded. She was ready. It was now or never. Regrets would have to wait. Traveling all this way, jumping through all of those hoops, rehashing what had been supposedly done and over with thirteen years ago...It wasn't all for nothing.
Angela nodded. "Booth and Bren finally came to an agreement. The day your dad took your mom on their first date, I celebrated. Jack and I went out for drinks and watched every sappy romance movie I had to my name. The whole damned lab was happy, for pity's sake. It was six months of bliss. Their banter didn't stop, though. If anything, it just got worse as the days went by. But not once did I complain. Not once. I couldn't. How could I? I had been pushing for that since day one." Angela smiled broadly, presumably at her fond memories.
"So what happened?" There was a degree of darkness brought on with the inevitable question. "I mean, if they were happy, and if you were happy, and if everyone was happy, why? Why get rid of me?"
Angela sighed heavily and snuck one last swallow of coffee. It must've been those nerves again. "Yes, well...It was hard, Rachel."
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Oh, more suspense! I was originally going to shove the whole bulk of answers into one, gigantic chapter, but this seemed to be a good place to stop, and as an author, I enjoy cliffhangers. It's my sincerest hope that you won't find my answers (which are on deck for the next chapter) to be borish or improbable.
When this story was first born, I had every intention of making it so that Brennan and Booth were dead, but then I came to the conclusion that that was nearly impossible to write without bawling my eyes out, not to mention that it would more than likely ward off any readers. Still, I liked the idea of Rachel, so I modified the plot a bit. I'm still a bit uneasy about the upcoming chapter...I hope that your reactions aren't going to be negative. So, until we get to that, drop a review and tell me what you think! If I did this correctly, there should be some foreshadowing weaved into this chapter. Feel free to make a few guesses!
Oh, and I attempted to add titles to the chapters. Not sure if they're very fitting, but it killed about twenty or so minutes trying to come up with them, thus saving me from boredom.
Phew, that was quite the author's note!
