(A/N) Hey again guys, how's it hanging. I got a bit distracted from this story for a hot minute there (but not for as long as I usually do oops). I thought of an idea for a one shot for Veronica Mars that kept distracting me, so I pounded it out but I want to rewatch some episodes before I publish it so I know everything is accurate. So maybe that will be coming. If you know anything about my writing and Veronica Mars, who can probably already guess who it will focus on, so if you're interested you can look forward to that at some point. Anywayyy… I'm not very happy with this chapter, but I've spent a lot of time agonizing over it. I really don't know when the next update will be. I leave for my first year of college in like 24 hours?! so yeah.
Booth thought this was going pretty well. He was picking up the basics of chess faster than he thought he would, and Lance was kind of coming out of his shell. He'd talked more than Booth was used to. And even if it was all about chess, it was a solid conversation.
"Alright, I've got a job to get back to," Booth eventually, regretfully said, the sentence blending into a light groan as he stood up from the low couch.
He looked down at Lance, who was still holding a pawn in his hand. The kid looked up at him with a blank face, and Booth felt a pang of disappointment. He had gotten some smiles and laughs out of Lance while they were playing chess, and he had hoped that would continue, but he should have known better.
"Do—" Lance stopped himself. He avoided Agent Booth's gaze and started putting the chess pieces back on their spots on the board. Booth noticed that his hands were shaking.
"What's up?" Booth asked. He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, remembering that he needed to get Lance's social worker's phone number. He decided to just put in the extra effort of pulling Lance's file rather than asking Lance. He was scared of doing anything that might put the kid on edge, and Booth had no idea what could do that, so he decided to just err on the side of caution.
Lance tried to put down a rook, but his unsteady hands set it too close to their corner, and it toppled to the carpet. He ducked down quickly to get it, and when he looked back up and made eye contact with Booth, he was blushing.
"Um"—he stuttered through his words—"do I have to stay in here? Or can I like walk around?" He licked his lips. "I mean, I'm at the Jeffersonian Institute. There's a lot to see. It's fine if—"
Booth hesitated. Just outside the doors of Bones' office was a lot of evidence being investigated. If Lance came into contact with any of it, it could come into question when they were trying to convict the murderer. He did feel guilty keeping the kid cooped up all day though.
"I can't let you wander around because of the evidence and stuff," he said regretfully. He looked at the disappointed face of the teenager sitting before him. "But I'll get you out of here for lunch, okay? I know it must suck to be sitting here all day."
Lance just shrugged. He tapped his fingers on his knees.
Booth tried his best to stop feeling guilty. "And until then…" He glanced around Bones' office. To him, this was by far the least interesting part of the lab. Bones was the only person who rarely brought her actual work into her office.
He walked up to the bookcases behind the desk. "You could do some light reading…" He pulled a random book down. "There's… The History of Reproductive Behavior in North American Societies?"
Lance laughed. "Sounds riveting. You may never be able to tear me away once I crack that open." His voice was dripping with sarcasm, giving Booth a tiny glimpse at the boy's sense of humor. He chuckled once more, lightly, looking down at that ground. Then he glanced up and met Booth's eyes. "I have homework anyway. Thanks though."
Booth nodded slowly. "I guess… I guess if you wanna wander a little bit, that's fine." He was being too lenient. He got like this with Parker too, bending rules that he had instated in an effort to make his kid smile. "Just don't touch anything," he added quickly.
Thanks. I'll try not to destroy evidence," Lance joked with a grin that looked half-forced.
Booth laughed then excused himself. He stepped back out of the office and dialed the extension of one of the newer agents stuck doing desk work. "Hey, Lahey," he greeted, returning to pacing around the lab. "I need you to get someone's phone number for me."
"You got it." Lahey was so eager to please, Booth was kind of dreading when the excitement of the FBI wore off on him.
"The kid, Lance, who's the foster brother of the victim I'm investigating right now? I need his social worker's number. It should be pretty easy to find. Also, if you could see if you can find any record of disciplinary issues for Lance? Either with the law or at school?"
Lahey was mumbling mhms the entire time Booth was talking. "You got it," he said. "Hang on a second, and I can probably get you that phone number now…" Booth could hear the clicking of computer keys and crinkling as Lahey stuck his phone between his shoulder and ear. "two oh two, five five five, oh one six two."
Booth scribbled the numbers down quickly. "Thanks, Lahey. Let me know when you know more about his criminal background." He hung up and started dialing the number given to him.
~.~
Jack had been staring down his microscope for probably too long when he sensed someone approach his office. He looked up and sat back, assuming it was Angela and preparing to say something clever in hopes of impressing her.
"Hello—oh." Jack froze. The person standing in the doorway of his office was not the gorgeous artist, but a lanky teenager boy, who had been staring at a snake recovered from the crime scene and looked over upon Jack's greeting. "You're not Angela."
The boy crinkled his eyebrows. "No, I'm not." He glanced quickly around the office before going back to watching Jack. "I'm sorry. I was just looking at your snake. He's…"
Jack scowled. "She's not mine. She's evidence."
"Oh." The boy didn't seem to have anything else to say. He looked away from Jack.
"Who are you?" Jack demanded. He liked the familiarity of his lab. He knew everyone here; he knew he could trust them to be around his evidence and discoveries. New people upset his entire environment.
The kid stepped back, hovering just barely outside of Jack's office door. "I'm Lance. I'm—uh…" He waved in the general direction of the rest of the lab. "Dalia's foster brother." He paused, and Jack's face must not have looked very satisfied because Lance hastily added, "I'm—uh—staying with Dr. Brennan until the case is over. She brought me here."
Jack decided that he really needed to get an update on the case.
"Oh—okay." Jack glanced down at his microscope for a second. He just wanted to get back to work.
Lance cleared his throat then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I can go. Sorry. I—uh…" He turned quickly to leave the office but ended up face to face with Angela, who had been walking toward the office, beaming with a smile. "Oh," he breathed out.
Angela continued to smile. She looked from Lance to Jack. "Who's this?" she asked, with genuine curiosity. She shifted her gaze back over to Lance, looking him up and down, before winking. He blinked a few times, blushed, and looked pathetically over at Jack.
Jack stood from his chair and peeled off his gloves. He, apparently, would not be getting his work done anytime soon. "This is Lance," Jack said. "He's staying with Dr. B." He tried and failed to keep the incredulity out of is voice.
Angela didn't say anything for a long moment. Then she said, "Lance, you look very young—"
"Oh my god, for the case, Angela!" Jack interrupted, trying to block out the image of Dr. Brennan having an affair with someone as young as the embarrassed looking boy before him. "The vi—Dalia was his foster sister."
Angela nodded slowly and took one step back. "I'm gonna go check in on the case with Brennan," she said, moving closer to the doorway. Jack nodded to indicate that he thought that was a very good idea. and she was gone in an instant.
Lance was left staring at Jack, looking entirely unsure of himself.
Jack started to speak, preparing himself to say something about how Lance should probably go find somewhere else to explore, when he received another visitor, this time in the form of Booth.
"Hey, Buddy," Booth greeted, clapping his hand on Lance's shoulder. Lance tensed a little, and Booth removed his hand. He looked over Lance's head at Jack, raising one eyebrow. He continued to look at Jack while he spoke to Lance. "Time to get you out of here for some lunch, huh? Come on. We gotta go tear Bones away from her bones."
He started to walk away, and Lance looked at Jack one more time, smiling the smallest smile Jack had ever seen, before rushing after him.
.~.
The diner felt like just one more place where Lance didn't belong.
Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan both had regular orders, and Booth chatted with the waitress like she was an old friend. They sat next to each other while Lance sat, hunched over, across from them.
Lance stared down at the table for a long time before he got bored and started looking around the diner. It was very typical of a DC diner, he thought. It didn't seem to be anything special, but Agent Booth had been beaming with excitement as he had explained that this was the place for a good meal. Lance decided that Agent Booth must just know what he was talking about, and it was probably better not to question it.
When Lance turned his attention back to the two adults in front of him, they were bickering. He felt his hands tighten against each other as they sat in his lap, wringing anxiously.
"I didn't mean to insult you, Booth," Dr. Brennan was saying, one hand on her coffee cup and the other gesticulating as she spoke. "I was just saying—"
Agent Booth shook his head. "Bones. Just… stop." He rolled his eyes and turned away from her. He gave Lance a look that was probably supposed to mean 'she's always like this', but Lance thought communication through facial expressions was too unreliable when it came to people he barely knew.
Dr. Brennan stared at Booth for a long moment, her mouth pulled tightly closed. She seemed to be thinking. Eventually, she took a deep breath. As she lifted her coffee cup to her mouth, she said, "I've made an interesting discovery in the bones."
Booth put both of his hands out in front of him in frustration. He gave Dr. Brennan a warning look, and Lance found himself tensing in preparation for another quarrel. Dr. Brennan swallowed her coffee. "What?" she asked. "Do you not want to know—?"
Agent Booth made a small motion with his hand toward Lance, who was not supposed to notice but did nonetheless. After staring at Agent Booth with a blank expression for entirely too long, she eventually nodded and said, "Gotcha. I'll tell you later." She looked over at Lance and forced a very strained smile.
Subtlety was not necessary for crime solving apparently.
Their waitress approached the table and set plates of food in front of them. "Here you go, honeys," she said as she did it, and Lance had responded with a "thanks!" before he could stop himself. She looked over at him and smiled. He ducked his head.
"Lance, you should be able to go to school tomorrow if you'd like," Dr. Brennan said conversationally as she picked up her silverware.
Lance looked up at her quickly. Thank god. Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan were nice, but Lance's entire being had been thrumming with tension all day. He needed to just be somewhere he wasn't constantly being watched. At school, he could disappear into the crowd and just simply be so quiet that no one bothered with him. At the lab, it had seemed like everyone was scrutinizing him more than the evidence they were working on.
Agent Booth turned to Dr. Brennan, continuing to seem frustrated with her. "Bones, we talked about this. Until—"
"You'll have an arrest warrant by the end of the day," she said defensively. "If you had let me talk, you would know that." She went to work cutting her sandwich in half.
For some reason, Lance realized he was smiling while looking awkwardly down at his food then glanced up at Booth's reaction. The look of (still) frustrated resignation on Agent Booth's face was rapidly becoming familiar, a staple of the partnership that Lance was bearing witness to.
He went back to looking at his food and realized he should probably be focusing on eating it. Especially now that Agent Booth was looking at him for support against Dr. Brennan.
But Lance was very firmly not going to allow himself to be dragged into this. Taking sides seemed like the kind of thing that would only lead to taking sides again later on, in another inevitable argument. And he couldn't do that; he was kind of starting to like both of them.
