Hello!
All I can do is beg for your forgiveness for the extreme delay in getting this chapter posted. I am really doing the best I can to keep up with this story, but I can't help when the Muse takes detours like mine did with 'Eventually' and 'A Late Night Call'. Thank you all for your support on those two little drabbles and THANK YOU for coming back.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or any rights to the Anthropology Research Facility. I just own this little story line.
The following morning found Booth and Brennan back at the local FBI headquarters for further interviews. It seemed to Booth that most of the local agents were over their initial shock of seeing a scientist as striking as his partner, and they were greeted with friendly regards and nods as they moved through the halls towards Noggins' tiny office. The DC Agent sighed in silent relief that there were no gawking stares or blatant attempts to gain his partner's attention, though he was sure he caught one or two peripheral glimpses of heads turning in forced nonchalance as they passed. Maintaining his purchase on Brennan's lower back, he ushered her carefully around corners towards their destination, never once losing touch with her body in a silent declaration that any normal person with even the slightest amount of street-smart-observational-skills should've been able to recognize a mile away.
His assertively possessive gait and stride did not go unnoticed by Brennan, but she kept her thoughts to herself, knowing that Booth was slightly on edge about his impending phone conference with Cullen, following what was scheduled to be their second interview of the morning. Deciding to try to refocus his attention, Brennan spoke to him over her shoulder.
"Who is the first interrogation, Booth? Is it someone we re-called from yesterday or a new suspect?"
"They're not suspects yet, Bones, just people that we want to talk to… we're not interrogating yet," Booth responded as he glanced at the folder in his left hand. "It's someone we haven't met yet. The groundskeeper for the University," he handed the folder up to her just as they reached the open door leading into Noggins' office.
"Knock, knock," he said as they entered the young agent's office. "What's shakin', Noggins?"
Brennan abruptly turned and eyed her partner with open curiosity at the question he'd just posed to the Junior. "What's shaking where, Booth?"
"Just a saying, Bones," he shook his head slightly, mentally chastising himself for using a slang phrase on a morning when he was in a particular hurry. "I'll explain later." He knew she wouldn't be happy having her question put off until an as-yet-undetermined-time, but Booth really wanted to get these first couple of meetings over so he could call his boss while his partner worked in the FBI Forensics lab with the rest of their team. He turned his attention back to the young agent. "So, is everything in order, Noggins? Everyone lined up for our talks today?"
Brennan handed Booth the folder once more, so he could make whatever notes were necessary, and she took a seat on the only empty guest-chair in the office. Unable to control her OCD compulsions, Brennan tuned-out the conversation the men were having and started to organize a disheveled pile of files and folders that occupied the other chair on the visitor-side of the desk. After several moments, she realized that the background noise had ceased, causing the scientist to slowly raise her eyes from the now-organized stack of files that she'd relocated in an orderly fashion into an empty accordion folder that had been carelessly discarded on the floor. Brennan saw her partner and his junior counterpart silently watching her with thinly veiled curiosity behind their eyes.
"Uhh, whatcha doin', there, Bones?" Booth cocked an eyebrow, crinkling his forehead at the actions of his girl.
Darting her eyes over to Noggins, the anthropologist recognized that her actions, which were not at all unusual when she was in her partner's office, might very well have been misconstrued as intrusive by the resident Knoxville agent. "Agent Noggins, I apologize," she lowered her eyes briefly to the bulging accordion file that sat on her thighs, then looked back to their assistant. "I meant no offense… It's just…. well…. Frankly, your filing system left a lot to be desired," she just stated her opinion, deciding it would be better than trying to fabricate a lie to explain her easily misunderstood behavior.
Booth glanced over at the slightly stunned man standing to his left and then turned back to his fiancee. "Geez, Bones, way to put it gently," Booth reached down and removed the parcel from her lap, handing her their interview files to hold, instead. His playful wink, however, told Brennan he found it humorous that he wasn't the only Agent she found to be disorganized. Turning back to Noggins, Booth grinned, "there ya go, Pal, you'll find everything a lot easier now… Trust me."
"Ummm…" Noggins looked at the file that Booth had just handed him and glanced back and forth between the seated woman and Booth warily. "Thanks? ...I think…."
"Alrighty, then," Booth slapped the younger man's shoulder, jarring him from his stunned silence, and turned to his partner with a crooked grin. "Ready Bones? We've got people to talk to…" He extended his arm, motioning for her to make a move and followed close behind when she did. Calling back without looking, Booth bid their goodbye. "We'll catch up with you later, Noggins, thanks for all the info."
B/B/B/B
The University groundskeeper was not a talkative sort, but certain things about him struck a chord with Booth and the agent decided to keep Tommy Larkins on the short list of people to investigate further. He was vague about his past and his employment file was suspiciously sparse in the former-employer-and-references-department. Tommy avoided eye contact with Booth almost completely, but didn't have a problem seeking a return gaze from Brennan. Oblivious to Booth's thinly veiled warnings that his partner wasn't the focus of their meeting, the thirty-something, heavily-bearded worker continued to openly hit-on the scientist sitting across from him.
At the ballsy suggestion that, on Brennan's lunch-break she join him for coffee and pie, complete with an obnoxious wink, the man found himself pulled from the chair by the collar of his uniform jumpsuit, nose to nose with a pissed-off DC Agent.
"Listen, pal, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but whatever it is, knock it off. You're officially on my suspect list, so if I were you, I'd listen up and pay close attention rather than trying to get my partner over there to join you for a little afternoon-delight...'cause I guaran-damn-tee you, that shit ain't gonna happen." He pushed the man back into his seat and ignored the whiny moans about police brutality. "Oh, shut the hell up," he grumbled. "So far, you've basically told me that you have full access, carte-blanche, to the Research Facility, regardless of the time or day… You have also told me that you have used your time as a University employee to take advantage of whatever classes were available to you, given your work schedule. Now, how about regaling some of those advanced studies that you've done, huh? What classes have you taken?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" The man grew defiant and clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the questioning.
"It has to do with my curiosity… And right now, right here," he pressed his finger to the table to make his point, "my curiosity is the only thing driving this conversation. It'll be easy enough for me to obtain your transcripts," he sat back, but was interrupted by the man.
"I'm not a paying student… The courses I take are merely an additional perk I get, since they don't pay squat for this job. My grades aren't factored into the class curve… All I do is sit and listen and learn…" Tommy's growing aggravation and irritation stirred something deep in Booth's gut.
"All of those things are true," Booth responded calmly, "but there will still be clear records of which classes you were in, whose lectures you frequented, and how well you would have done, if they were counting your grades as a paying student."
Clenching his jaw closed, and now completely ignoring the woman in the room, Tommy stared at Booth intently. "You wanna know what I took, go ahead and find out yourself. Do your own damn job… I ain't gunna do it for ya." He folded his arms across his chest, refusing to discuss anything further.
Booth closed his folder and pinned the man with a hard stare. "Don't leave town, Tommy. I might want to talk to you again."
"You can't tell me not to leave town. I know my rights… you ain't arrestin' me, so you can't tell me I can't go away if I want to…"
"I could arrest you if that's what you want…" He cocked an eyebrow. "Is it?"
"You don't have nothin' on me," the man spit back.
"Harassing my partner," Booth was nonchalant about the accusation.
"What the hell? I wasn't harassing her!" His hand jutted out in Brennan's direction, and like a flash, Booth grabbed the man's wrist and slammed it to the table. "Ow, man! What the hell is the matter with you!? What the fuck?!"
"Looked like harassment to me, buddy. You say it wasn't, I say it was… It's your word against mine… And you might just win on that one… But while we gather the evidence on such an accusation, I can arrest you for harassing my partner during an interrogation… and hold you there until I decide to let you go..." Booth's blackened eyes stared hard at the man, daring him to say something to the contrary. After several minutes of deafening silence, Booth let go of the man's hand, roughly pushing it away. "Or," he shrugged, "you can just agree to not leave town for a few days… That's up to you…"
Backing down from any further confrontation with the Pissed-Off-Feeb, Tommy rubbed his wrist blindly. "I gotta work anyway… School might be letting out for the holidays, but I still got work to do. I ain't goin' nowhere…"
"Great!" Booth plastered on a smile. "Well, then, you're free to go," he gestured to the door. "Have a grrreat day…" He smirked but only with his mouth, his eyes were still warning the man he didn't trust in a silent threat.
Briefly, Tommy glanced at Brennan, back to Booth and back to Brennan again. "I don't think we should have coffee, ma'am…" He looked back to Booth while Brennan replied.
"I wasn't planning on it, Mr. Larkins." She eyed Booth sideways and saw that he was still staring hard at the younger man. "Goodbye Mr. Larkins…" She spoke loudly, breaking the metaphorical pissing match, and the groundskeeper turned to exit the room, leaving the partners in silence.
Once the door was closed, Booth turned to his partner and chewed his lip. "I don't like him… He's bad news…"
"Booth, what the hell was that?" She looked at her mate in disbelief.
"I told you, I don't like him. I don't trust him. If he didn't do the actual killing, then he was involved in the disposal..." The subject was closed for argument as far as he was concerned. He didn't know how Tommy Larkins was involved, but he knew the man was guilty of something to do with this crime. And his team would find the truth.
"Booth…"
"I'm tellin' you, Bones…" He hated when she doubted his gut instincts.
"You don't have any evidence...!" She hated when he ignored facts and based assumptions on intestinal indigestion.
"I don't need evidence to know he's hiding something," he gritted his teeth and met her pointed stare, entering a debate as old as their partnership. "He'sguilty…. I just don't know of what, yet." He leaned closer to her, still conscious of the fact that the cameras were recording everything that went on, and suspecting that locals were gathered around the little monitor in the adjoining room. "And I didn't like how he was talking to you… You don't come into an interrogation room and start hitting on the person doing the interrogating! It just proves that there is something off about him… He was trying to distract you, and in turn trying to distract me."
"You told me," she leaned forward and met his glare with her cool blues and her jaw clenched tighter than his, "that we weren't interrogating… You said we were simply questioning and meeting with people… Anyway, Booth, you can't rely on superficial feelings that..." She verbally stumbled when he continued speaking...
"I can, and will, rely on my experience at reading people!" He sat back, knowing she had called him out on a contradiction to what he'd told her earlier. "Besides, I changed my mind… We weren't meeting with him, we were incipiently interrogating him…"
"Incipiently, huh?" She tilted her head, "new 'word of the day'?" She arched her brow playfully, knowing they were fine.
"No, Smart-Ass," he narrowed his eyes, "I looked that one up two months ago, when I was trying to decipher one of your squint-speak reports. It means preliminarily, inchoately…"
Her lips curled into a smile and her eyes danced at his response. Seeley Booth was a smart man, regardless of how he played-down his intelligence, and she loved seeing him get caught up in a word game like this. "You're a constant surprise, Booth," her voice was husky and she mentally had to catch herself from leaning in further towards him.
"I've been tellin' you that for years, Bones," he winked. "About time you started listening to me…"
Meanwhile on the opposite side of the two-way mirrored wall, a handful of local agents were gathered to watch the aftermath of the heated conversation. They'd been witness to the entire interrogation session, including the physicality between Booth and the suspicious character from the University, but that wasn't what had them all captivated. Instead, they were all standing on edge, watching and listening as the visiting partners argued over Booth's method of interrogation and the harsh discussion regarding his gut instincts and their unreliability. The observation room was deathly silent as the young men watched the partners lean closer together, speaking through clenched teeth at one another.
"He's gonna kiss her..." one of the rookies whispered, eyes unwavering from the window before them.
"No way, man, they can't stand each other…" another contradicted as he shook his head slowly, speaking just as quietly.
"Besides," came the next reply, "they're partners… That's not allowed…. But, wow..."
"My God, she's hot," the greenest newbie in the room muttered under his breath, but received complete agreement from his comrades until they were all startled back into reality by the clearing of one's throat coming come behind where they stood.
Scurrying to turn around, the four men, who had been sent into the room for the sole purpose of observing two of the best interrogators the FBI had to offer, found themselves face-to-face with the visiting, and very exoctically beautiful, Forensic Artist, whom they'd forgotten was in the tiny space with them. They practically stumbled over each other as they tried to make excuses, blaming one another for the comments, rather than simply fessing up to getting caught up in the moment. Angela pinned each one with a playfully dark stare, letting one side of her mouth curl into a sly smile.
"You boys have a lot to learn," she began, realizing she had their undivided attention. The only advice I am going to give you today, is to never let Brennan and Booth find out that you referred to her as 'hot.' Because after she castrates you, slowly and painfully, for saying such a demeaning, cheap, piss-poor-excuse of a compliment, Booth will shoot you."
She watched as each young man paled at her description of what would happen if they were caught gossiping about the partners. "And they have ears everywhere, boys," she flashed a wide, toothy smile and turned to leave, mentally congratulating herself on catching them all off-guard. She was simultaneously relieved that there were no seasoned Agents in there who could have challenged her purpose for observing the interrogation, not to mention her empty threat to the rookies. She quickly walked over to the room where Booth and Brennan were still engaged in whatever heated banter had segued from the 'word of the day' comment, and interrupted their discussion with a disguised offer of bottled water before their next interview was scheduled to begin. Although she couldn't see through the one-sided window, she turned to the mirror and moved her eyes across the surface, knowing the young guys were watching. She imagined they were shuffling uncomfortably knowing she knew what they were thinking. Within seconds, the door to the observation room could be heard slamming open against the hallway wall and the four agents strode past the gaping entryway of the interrogation room without so much as a glance inside.
B/B/B/B
Less than twenty minutes later, the partners sat side by side at the conference table, facing a woman in her mid-40's who had a notepad of her own, as if planning to take notes. Instead of nervous chatter and fidgeting that many people experienced when facing the pair, the woman sat poised confidently, meeting Booth's stern look. The smartly dressed professor spared only a brief glance at Brennan before looking back to Booth with a look that could only be described as a scowl.
"Mrs. Terrapin," Booth began, looking up from his folder, "I understand that-"
"Doctor," she curtly corrected him. "It's Doctor Terrapin." Her words were pointedly abrupt as she folded her hands atop her notepad. "I have worked hard to succeed in an academic world dominated by men. I would appreciate being shown the same respect you demand when being addressed, Agent Booth."
"Of course. I meant no offense, Dr. Terrapin; I apologize," he nodded once, making a note in his file. "As I was saying, I understand that you are a Professor of Ethnic Studies, teaching at a small college located just over the border of North Carolina?"
"That is correct," she replied, "with special focus on the historical significance of Native American influence on the Americas."
"I see, and-"
His words were cut off once again, but this time, by his partner, who up until now had been sitting quietly at his side.
"Your skeletal structure and complexion, not to mention your name, Kavi Terrapin, all suggest that you are of direct Native American descent, Dr. Terrapin… Cherokee, perhaps, given our proximity to the Nation?"
The woman turned her cool dark eyes to the pale woman sitting on the opposite side of the table. "It does not take a genius to know that we are located in the heart of what was once Cherokee land, Dr. Brennan." She turned from the Anthropologist and faced Booth, her jaw clenched in determination. "I teach at a private college on Reservation property. Why does my position interest you in your investigation, Agent Booth? I am a very busy woman and have to get back to work."
Booth closed his folder and folded his hands as her met her hostile glare. "Dr. Terrapin, is there a problem here that I don't know about? Have we," he motioned between himself and Brennan, "unknowingly offended you in some way?"
The woman leaned forward, never breaking eye contact with the visiting Agent. "You are the Federal Government, Agent Booth. Tlo va sa may be ancient history to you, sir, but the blood of my slaughtered ancestors flows thick through my veins and the Nu na da ul tsun yiis still fresh in my shared memories."
Booth looked to his partner with a raised eyebrow, looking for translation.
"Booth, Dr. Terrapin is referring to the forced removal of the Cherokee people in the 1830's and their difficult and, in many cases, ultimately deadly trek over what is referred to today as The Trail of Tears, as her ancestors were relocated into Indian Territory, which is present-day Oklahoma. The Government of that time were responsible for thousands upon thousands of Native American deaths. If I'm not mistaken in my history, and I'm certain I'm not, approximately 4,200 Cherokees perished on that journey." Brennan moved her eyes back to the woman across from them. "Surely you don't hold today's Government and Military personnel responsible for the demise of your ancestors, Dr. Terrapin. Booth had nothing to do with the actions of his predecessors any more than you controlled the reactions of your great-great-grandparents."
The woman's face turned hard, "Do not lecture me, Dr. Brennan; you know nothing of my people's hardships - only what your white history books teach. It is my duty to educate the young people of my Nation the truth of what was done, the atrocities, to not only the Cherokee, but to every Native American Nation throughout these lands." She clenched her jaw firm as she squared her shoulders. "And I have to admit, Dr. Brennan, that it amazes me that someone of your intelligence level, someone with your degree of knowledge, permits the government to use you to their benefit. You've seen the horrors of war, you've witnessed the barbaric, heinous crimes committed against people by their own governments - by the very officials appointed to protect them." Noticing the surprise in the icy blue eyes that met hers, Terrapin continued.
"Yes, I know who you are, Dr. Brennan. I knew who you were before Agent Booth introduced you as his Partner - a typical alpha-male action, by the way, not letting you introduce yourself... Nevertheless, your reputation as a well-respected Anthropologist who has worked some of the most nefarious mass-murders of our lifetime precedes you. I find it a shame, however, that you belittle your skills to assist people like Agent Booth and his colleagues."
"Hey - hey - hey," Booth interjected, "Wait just a damn minute…."
But Brennan was already defending herself against the sharp tongued Cherokee woman. "Dr. Terrapin, you have no business passing judgement over me or my partner. We are here to solve a crime, something we do every day for the benefit of the people of this country, regardless of race or background. We give identifications to those who can't identify themselves. We tell the stories of those unfortunates who can no longer speak their own tales. We provide closure to the survivors left behind. Do not sit across this table and lecture us about the plight of your people. We are not here for a history lesson, we are here to solve a crime. Agent Booth has some questions that you will answer. Otherwise you will be taken into custody and not released until such time that you do answer his queries."
Booth leaned sideways, muttering quietly. "Actually, we don't have any grounds to detain her, Bones."
She glared at him momentarily and then dismissed the truth of their limitations with a frustrated huff before turning her attention back to the confrontational woman sitting across the table. "Look, Dr. Terrapin," her tone was flat. "Your hostility is unwarranted. We are trying to solve a case here. And we would appreciate your cooperation."
Feeling slightly surprised at the anthropologist's verbal defense, Terrapin realized that she may have, in fact, jumped to conclusions about the partners. She had been raised to distrust pretty much anyone outside of her own race, especially those in the Federal Government. The constant struggle between Reservation law enforcement and 'outside' support was no secret to both sides, but Terrapin bit her tongue and nodded curtly, her lips pressed in a tight line.
"Great. Ok, then," Booth darted his eyes between the two women and finally settled his gaze on the professor. "There is record of you, Dr. Terrapin, along with a small group of your students having come to the Anthropology Research Facility earlier this year, shortly after the start of the semester. Can you explain the circumstances surrounding your visit to the property? Lookin' at a bunch of dead bodies," he squinted his eyes in thought, "doesn't exactly sound like a course for Ethnic Studies students." He shrugged in question while he waited.
Raising her chin defiantly, Terrapin leaned back against her chair and folded her arms as she pinned the agent with a deadpan stare. "It is not typically a road trip on which I would bring my students...But there were special...circumstances surrounding this visit to the property." Inhaling slowly and deeply through her nose, the Cherokee woman explained. "We made a pilgrimage of sorts, from the Reservation to the Research Facility." She moved her eyes from the Booth to Brennan and saw the silent question in the pale blue eyes staring back.
Realizing that an explanation would be in order, Terrapin continued. "I received a call from Dr. Mills. He wanted to inform me that they were in receipt of a body that had been unclaimed from the city morgue...That's how they get many of their study-bodies." She saw Brennan nod in understanding and knew instantly that the Anthropologist was well-aware of the typical routine for the "body farm". It was in that moment, when their eyes locked, that Terrapin felt an inexplicable kinship with the woman sitting opposite herself, this scientist towards whom she had just moments ago felt hostility. Terrapin saw an intense look of basic curiosity staring back at her and realized that the pale-eyed woman was not the enemy in her plight.
"Why would Mills contact you about a body they were in receipt of?" Booth brought the woman's attention back to him and back in line with questions.
Terrapin turned to meet the deep-set eyes awaiting her response and she was surprised to see no sign of resentment in the Agent's gaze. After making such an insult to the man's character and skills when she accused Brennan of belittling her own knowledge, she would have expected more animosity, but saw only an earnest desire for the truth.
"Look, Dr. Terrapin, you don't have to like me," Booth sat forward, resting his forearms on the cool surface of the table, taking her silence as a sign of reluctance to answer. "But please understand that we are here to find out as much information as possible regarding the brutal desiccation of a human being. We're not here to accuse you of anything, we're just trying to ascertain why Mills would have been in contact with you, seeing as how you teach a different field of study, in a different state, exclusively to Cherokee students."
"You have a strong personality, Agent Booth. The energy of a powerful leader..." Terrapin folded her hands carefully, "I do not dislike you sir; I dislike the fact that whenever we need help on our land, we cannot get it, but whenever Federal officials need our input, we are expected to drop everything to assist." She licked her lips and darted her eyes to Brennan briefly before looking back to Booth. "Dr. Mills contacted me because they were in receipt of the remains of an unclaimed man of mixed descent - Cherokee and African American." She noted the confused an impatient look the agent was giving her, but, even without looking, Terrapin knew that Brennan had comprehended the situation.
She continued, "You see, Agent Booth, there is a discord among the people of my Nation when it comes to mixed-race descendants." She considered her words carefully. "There are some who believe that those souls born to parents of varying race do not belong among those of us who have been bred through pure lineage. Several years ago, people who were formerly considered members of our Nation, who were primarily descendants of Cherokee Indians and black slaves, were forced out." She paused to gather her thoughts. "Many of us, however, believe otherwise. Personally, I believe that when anyone of Cherokee descent passes, their souls belong with those of our common ancestors, and that they should be sung to as they undergo their transition and begin their journey into the heavens." She shifted her gaze to Brennan. "Dr. Mills and I have discussed this debate at great length, and he respects my beliefs, even though he himself is a non-believer of any religion. When he learned of the body that was turned over to the Facility, he phoned me and asked if I wanted to pay my respects to this stranger. And, of course, I did."
Brennan leaned forward and engaged the woman. "It is highly unusual for a person of Native American descent to have their bodies, even just their organs, donated to science, Dr. Terrapin."
"Yes. But this person was not claimed by any living being. He was, they suspect, a homeless man - either with no living relatives or relatives who had turned their backs on him."
Wanting to get back on track, Booth interjected. "OK, so, ah, you and your class were signed in on the Visitors' Log because you came out to the Body Farm," a swift punch on the bicep from his partner kept him in line, "er, um, the Research Facility, to sing…?"
"We sang traditional funeral songs, Agent Booth." She was unimpressed with his dismissal of their beliefs. "I'm sure even you believe in some sort of rituals…" She cocked an eyebrow in question and turned her attention to the Anthropologist when she started to speak.
"Oh, Agent Booth believes in rituals, alright. He even believes that there is this man, a very powerful zombie-like man, who lives somewhere up there," she motioned to the ceiling, "who knows everything, sees everything and controls everything…" She was about to go on, ridiculing any sort of belief altogether, but her partner interrupted with a growl.
"Bones, I've told you before, God is not a zombie… Besides," he cleared his throat, "we're not here to talk about my beliefs; nor am I diminishing your beliefs, Dr. Terrapin. I'm simply trying to ascertain the nature of your visit to the property." He glared momentarily out of the corner of his eye at Brennan before turning back to the sturdy woman sitting across from them. "That was the last time you were there, Doctor?"
"Yes, it was. I thanked Dr. Mills for the call and took my students home."
"Could we get the names of the students who accompanied you?" Booth turned his notebook to a blank page and angled the sheet in her direction. "I know this may be uncomfortable, but we may need to speak with some of those young men and women."
After what was obviously an internal debate, Terrapin agreed with a curt nod to provide the Federal Agent with the names of those select students who'd joined her on that day and quickly jotted down the information. "I will inform them that there is a possibility you may be contacting them. If they have no warning, they will clam up and not talk to you. If, however, I make it known that I have already spoken with you, you will meet considerably less reluctance."
Booth smiled, catching the woman slightly off guard at the rugged handsomeness of the man sitting across from her. Though she was never extremely attracted to anyone outside of her race, to not admit that he was good looking would have been a lie, and she found herself smiling back, just a little.
"Thank you, Dr. Terrapin," he said as he extended his hand. "Your cooperation is really appreciated."
"Well, Agent Booth, I guess we all just need to do our part." She accepted the handshake then bid goodbye to Brennan as well. "Good luck on your investigation. While I don't know all the details, I am sure that if you, Dr. Brennan, were called in, then the crime must be pretty gruesome. Your expertise is in high demand, I hear."
"Well," Brennan shook the outstretched hand, "we can't disclose details at this time, but I will not insult your intelligence, Dr. Terrapin. Your conclusion is not misguided."
Booth gathered his papers once they were alone, peeking at Brennan from the corner of his eye. "That started out a little hairy…"
"Well, she has been force-fed negative impressions all her life, Booth. Regardless that she is a multiple-degreed, independent woman who now educates young people, it's very difficult to unlearn that which you are raised believing." They faced each other briefly. "Remember how upset you were when we had to deal with the students at Hanover Preparatory School after Nestor Olivos was found dead? You were raised in a blue-collar home by Pops, playing hockey in the streets of South Philly and scrapping with other children raised in much the same way… You told me that you hated children like those who attended Hanover, even though the children of wealthy parents don't know any different. This is how they're brought up, they feel like they're privileged, because frankly, they are." She knew he had his attention, this was a discussion they'd passionately debated on several occasions. "She was raised in her version of South Philly, not understanding that to which she was never exposed or taught."
A crooked, almost goofy smile spread across Booth's face. "I love the way your brain works, Bones," he complimented her openly. "You keep me balanced." He tucked his pen into the inner pocket of his jacket. "And hey, you used the verb 'scrapping' right! Nice job!"
"Well, we both have our strengths, Booth." She let him usher her from the room, feeling his palm press against her lower back in a familiar fashion. "Now...you have a phone conference and I have to get down to the lab. Mr. Abernathy should have the bones ready for me to examine by now. In fact, I expect he should have the preliminary reports ready as well."
"Yeah," Booth pressed the elevator button to take them down to the ground floor. "I'm going to take my call in the adjoining office. I doubt it will be a long conversation, so I'll join you as soon as I'm through." He absently flipped through their files before handing them over to Brennan.
"Alright," the anthropologist stepped out of the elevator carriage a half-step before Booth. "Tell Cullen if he doesn't give us our way, I'm not going to continue working for the FBI…" She continued walking, her head held high in smug confidence.
"Bones, ahh," Booth quickened his step until he overtook her lead. "I can't blackmail the Deputy Director of the FBI with a threat that you'll stop working unless he lets us explain to these horndogs why they need to back-the-hell-off-a you," he gritted his teeth and looked at her in disbelief.
"Well, it worked for me when I blackmailed you… I got what I wanted from the FBI..." She paused just inside the entryway of the lab, completely ignoring the shocked looks of the few local agents that were working alongside her team, as they looked up at the partners entering. Brennan met Booth's deep-set eyes with a raised brow, challenging him to correct her.
"That was different, Bones," he lowered his voice, not wanting everyone to know about their early partnership and how it came to be. Before he could continue, however, she cut him off.
"While you're at it, tell him that I want a gun…"
Booth turned away with a shake of his head as he walked towards the office he was set to use. "Forget it, Bones…"
"Booth! I'm a good shot! I think that I deserve to have a gun by now!" She pouted visibly and pinched her face. "It was an accident that I shot you, Booth! You can't hold that against me forever!"
"Get to work, Bones!" He called over his shoulder just before he closed the adjoining door, but met her gaze briefly, knowing that this would always be an on-going battle with the stubborn woman. He winked discreetly and closed the blinds so he wouldn't be distracted by watching his girl work while he tried having a conversation with his boss, but not before he saw his petulant partner do everything but stomp her foot in disagreement with his response.
Brennan's tenacity and determination made Booth love her even more, and he felt his lips curl into a soft smile as he thought about how brilliantly she was handling their first case back. If nothing else, he was incredibly proud to see the familiar spark of fire behind her eyes as she fought for what she wanted, no matter that she knew he wouldn't agree. The fact that she argued for it made him fall for her even harder.
Postscript A/N
So, a little bit of insight as to some activity that happened on the property as well as a suspicious character that Booth really REALLY dislikes.
I know it doesn't feel like much happened here, but it will all play out to be important.
Again, I beg your understanding for the delay and hope this didn't disappoint too terribly. Sometimes I just have to go with what my fingers type versus what my original thoughts were, because that's the Muse taking over.
peace & love, my friends.
~Jazzy