[A/N: I cannot thank you all enough for putting up with the time between chapters here! I am so sorry that it's taken me this long to cobble together a new chapter. You are the most patient and most wonderful readers anywhere!]
Chapter 25-The Heart within the Darkness
A few days later….
A loud crash reverberated through the apartment. Concerned, the man leapt up quickly and ran to see what had happened.
Shaking his head and fighting a knowing smirk, Seeley Booth took in the scene around him. Evan lay flat on his back, a ceiling fan with a now-cracked light fixture lying just beside him, a gaping hole in the ceiling and a toppled ladder evidence of his doomed attempt to install the fan. Striding over quickly, Booth offered his friend his hand and helped the man up.
"Anything broken?" Booth asked Evan.
"My pride is bruised, but physically, I'm okay," the man replied.
Booth just grinned at him. He had to give it to Evan. The man tried really hard to make repairs in his building and in the homes of older or less fortunate parishioners. It was noble—the man's determination to be a help, save scarce resources for people he tried to help. Recalling his own not-too-long-ago troubles remembering how to make even simple household repairs, Booth was filled with sympathy for the man. However, he had to fight hard to squelch the impulse to tell Evan that he needed a Dummies book to begin to understand that he wasn't ever going to be able to interpret the "Ceiling Fans for Dummies" book he had probably tucked away on a table nearby.
Opting to help with the outcome even if his friend was beyond help himself, Booth set about picking up the debris and gauging the damage to the ceiling. Without glancing back at the man whose ego had taken a beating, Seeley jotted down a list of items he needed from the home improvement store. Turning to face his friend, he walked over and handed him the list—complete with the specs for replacing the broken light fixture. After passing the paper to the man, he reached into his wallet and pulled out several fifty dollar bills and handed them to his friend.
"Want me to pick up groceries, too, dear?" Evan asked in half-hearted frustration.
"I thought pride was a sin, Evan. Get over it. Besides, I need those supplies soon if we're gonna finish up here today," Booth responded, trying to give the man some space to deal with his wounded pride.
"Well, I could at least pay for the damage," Evan grumbled, but he stopped speaking when Booth held up a hand.
"Hey, I haven't run of paychecks yet, Evan. It's the least I can do. You've given me something to do… a distraction… a purpose…."
"Gee whiz… Let me out of here before you get all weepy on me, man," Evan responded, realizing that he had to stop his friend short of thanking him any more for the valuable help he had provided to the parish. Seeley Booth had been working wonders all over the neighborhood, but Evan didn't want to give him time to stop and think about that. The man didn't need any reminders of the pain and worry he had never been quite able to escape. Shadows of guilt and worry were always hiding in his eyes even when he pretended he was focused on something else. Even knew that they had to stay busy and keep the conversation light so that his friend could cope with his circumstances.
"Steaks would be nice, though, honey" Booth shot back, earning him a mock salute and a grimace from his friend. Evan could see that Booth was letting the man off the hook and perhaps saving himself a moment of wallowing in his grief that lay just beneath the surface.
Evan grinned. The teasing was worth it. Besides, Booth was making a major dent in the backlog of botched repairs he needed to make. Sure, he'd hear a few more than the typical confessions of lust from the female parishioners left drooling in the FBI-man's wake. He'd caught more than one of them standing and blatantly ogling the man as sweat soaked through his t-shirt or accumulated on his brow. He was also fairly certain that he'd probably never stop hearing people ask when Seeley was going to be back at his side "helping" with the repairs. He suspected they'd be missing the view as much as they wanted capable help. Even so, hard, sweaty, physical work had been exactly what the hurting man had needed, and, thanks to Evan's entirely limited home repair skills, there was an abundance of that work around for him to tackle.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
Across town, Temperance Brennan paced in utter frustration outside the conference room. She had hardly ever been treated as an outsider when Booth was working a case. Instead, she had usually been right with him—at the center…. She sighed momentarily as she recalled that long ago conversation about how she and Booth were "the center." They had been the center of their professional and personal lives for years, but now there seemed to be no metaphorical center of gravity to ground their circumstances.
Revisiting her frustration and returning to her angry pacing, she walked up and then down the hallway. This was an outrage. She considered whether she should call her attorney and file a lawsuit. The FBI had no right to seize mail delivered to her at her place of employment. Knowing the agency had been overstepping, she had railed loudly against the head of the Jeffersonian's security department when he'd allowed Rackley and Perotta to take the box from her possession. Then she'd argued loudly with Cam and bristled when the woman had not helped her wage battle against the authorities. Didn't they all understand that this package was likely evidence about the case of The Taker? Didn't they feel the same disregard for safety and propriety and caution? Didn't they need to find the answers as quickly as possible? Apparently not.
She ignored the resounding ache in what Booth certainly would have deemed her gut. It was abundantly clear that no one else here felt the concern she felt for Booth's well-being—not to the extent that she did.
When they'd taken the package from her, Temperance had raced out to her car and trailed the FBI vehicle all the way to the Hoover Building—determined to regain control of it. On the way, she'd first called Hacker and then called his boss to complain when Hacker had not given her satisfaction. She had blatantly ignoring the security guards who followed her when she bypassed security in an attempt to keep up with the FBI team and its package. Fortunately, Perotta had waved them off fairly quickly and reminded them that she was Booth's partner. Not even noticing the chaos behind her, Brennan had bellowed loudly at all of the staff she encountered, reminding them of her superior skill and abilities and threatening them for delaying her access to the evidence meant for her to review.
As she'd continued her vocal tirade through the building, she'd flinched as she'd seen Dr. Sweets jog up and listen in on the conversation. Fully anticipating that he'd pull her aside and start counseling her on keeping her cool, she'd refused to make eye contact with him. That is, she had not until the younger man had stepped forward assertively, reminded them all that Booth relied upon Dr. Brennan as the primary forensic expert on all his cases, and insisted that they were making a mistake in denying her access to the contents of the package. Stunned by his overt support, Temperance finally made eye contact with the younger man as the agents closed the door to keep both of them out of the meeting. She'd almost hugged Sweets for his bold support. Almost.
However, instead of talking to him or embracing him, she'd begun to pace, and she had been pleased that he had not interfered or attempted to calm her. He also hadn't spoken to her about what her anger might mean. One day she'd thank him for that, too. For now, she had to keep walking so that she didn't break the door down, steal the evidence, and risk being thrown into jail.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
Just under two hours later….
With eerie calm and precision, a now driven Temperance Brennan snapped on gloves and stepped toward the examining table. Hodgins had completed his scrutiny of the box and its packaging and was standing back to wait for additional evidence to review.
The FBI had x-rayed the package and confirmed that it was filled with biological material but not laced with harmful chemicals or otherwise wired for explosion or inducing harm. Brennan had reminded them as they had returned the package to her that the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal Laboratory had superior scanning equipment and could have reached the same conclusion an hour faster. Then she had taken the package from them and marched over to her office.
Without a word, Cam had nodded to dismiss all those nearby who'd assembled to tell them to disperse and leave the area. Few people remained. Agent Perotta stood at the bottom of the platform. She stayed a safe distance away to avoid any proximity to the forensic anthropologist who'd barely allowed her to enter the facility. Only Angela, Hodgins, and a very nervous Dr. Bray stood on the platform—with Dr. Bray staying far enough away to allow the scientist to work in relative privacy but ready to spring to her side if requested.
Barely maintaining the pretense of not being emotional about what the package might hold, Temperance slowly opened the box and peered inside. Her hard swallow was a sufficient visual clue to tell everyone remaining there that this was not good news. She swallowed again and summoned the self control to banish the tears she felt preparing to assemble in her tear ducts. Setting her jaw, she used forceps to reach inside the package and removed the folded piece of paper in order to read it carefully.
As she read the paper, she placed her left hand down on the edge of the table to steady herself. Angela moved closer to show moral support. Ordinarily, Temperance would have balked and insisted that she needed no such reassurance, but she was slightly comforted by the gesture.
Wordlessly, Temperance read the letter again. Then, realizing that the forensic evidence would be where she needed to focus, she placed the letter on an evidence tray and motioned wordlessly for Hodgins to take it. He stepped forward, read the letter, and glanced silently to Angela. Mirroring his distress, her eyes held her own worry about her friend. Nodding almost imperceptibly, Jack turned to move to his workstation to examine the letter more carefully. When Perotta started reminding him about the rules for chain of custody for evidence, he glared at her and told her that she'd better keep her distance. The sound of his predictable raving about government bureaucracy was the only sound echoing around the whisper-quiet platform.
With a precision she alone could display under these most heart-wrenching of circumstances, Temperance slowly moved to take items out of the box for more careful examination. One by one, she withdrew the items, her own emotion more evident with each item recovered. She held tightly to her composure—fearing it might be the only way for her to do this work. She shuddered with the reality that, for once, she might not actually want to know the truth. She did not want to review this evidence. But, given its significance, there was no option to shrink from her responsibilities.
Slowly and without even breathing, she extricated a small flap of skin from the container. To her well-trained eye and to Cam's, this skin was instantly recognizable as the fingerprint that had been removed from the tip of one of the victim's phalanges. Ignoring the sharp inhale from Angela, Temperance was painstaking in the care she took in removing another larger section of skin bearing a clear tattoo of a bird in flight. Paler but still determined, she reached into the box to pull out the last of its contents-a large clump of blond hair that appeared to have been sheared off unevenly. Sensing Angela drawing closer to offer support, Temperance held up a hand and wordlessly kept her friend at bay. The women did not make eye contact. Doing so would have allowed too much communication to occur. Temperance had to focus on her work exclusively. She simply could not bear to consider what it might mean.
Without saying a word, Temperance began examining the evidence. After scrutinizing the items carefully, she sent Dr. Bray in search of a list of supplies and then informed him of the specific tests she'd need for him to run in order to confirm whether the items were from the same victim and to confirm the identity of the victim (or victims). She heard the doubt echoing in her own voice as she pretended that there was any possibility that these items were evidence from more than one victim. Yet she immersed herself in science and logic and in her staunch refusal to jump to conclusions—even to the ones that were jumping around violently in her enormously capable brain.
Cam observed her staff in action but did not move forward to ask questions or to help in any way. By her silence, she had made it obvious that she was there more as support for Dr. Brennan than to review the evidence. One glance at the woman's face told her clearly that, despite her assertion that one could not reach conclusions until all the evidence was in, this woman suspected that the remains they were now examining were those of Agent Patterson.
When the clearly shaken anthropologist transferred the evidence to Cam because there were no Bones to study, it was all Cam could do not to embrace her. By sending only flesh and hair, the killer had obviously intended to keep the anthropologist from the center of the investigation. That realization made it even more difficult for all of them to remain clinical and professional. The look on Dr. Brennan's face had admitted a defeat she'd never have voiced out loud.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
Hours later, preliminary DNA and blood and enzyme testing had all but confirmed that all three pieces of evidence were from Agent Patterson. Samples were rushed for expedited testing, but nobody doubted that full testing would produce confirmation of the preliminary data.
That same morning, official confirmation that the heart they'd received earlier had not been from the missing ATF/FBI agent had arrived. However, in light of this new evidence, nobody was encouraged about the outcome and hope for survival of the missing woman. Cam had e-mailed Dr. Brennan the news about the heart when it arrived. She hadn't had the courage to enter the woman's office and interrupt her silent vigil with Angela. She'd walked by several times only to see Dr. Brennan sitting stiffly on the sofa and refusing to talk to Angela about the evidence and what it might mean.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
Later that evening, Temperance stood hesitantly outside Evan's apartment door. She'd called him earlier and filled him in on what had occurred that evening. She'd gone to FBI headquarters for a meeting of the investigative team. During that meeting, Cam had provided the evidence, and the team had arrived at the conclusion that they would keep searching but that they would now operate under the assumption that it was unlikely that Agent Patterson would be found alive.
The team then discussed the fact that someone had to contact the family of Agent Patterson. When Rackley had mentioned that Booth had been the primary contact, Temperance calmly noted that, as Booth's partner, she would contact the family and deliver the news. She'd stated clearly that she would not tell them that Agent Patterson was not living since the evidence was not conclusive, but she would notify them of the new evidence and explain that it brought on extreme concern for their family member's wellbeing. She'd declined Dr. Sweets' offer to assist on the call but thanked him sincerely. She'd also insisted that Booth not be informed or made part of that phone call. Seeming to realize how fragile her hold on her self-control was after the day they'd all had, the managers in the briefing consented to her wishes. Without hearing it from her directly, they all knew that she would also inform Booth of the news.
She'd risen silently and gone to Booth's office to make the call. After taking a long moment to compose her thoughts, she had made the call to Agent Patterson's sister Lydia. Enduring the woman's near collapse during the conversation, she had sat silently as the woman sobbed for what she assumed was her sister's certain death. Not bothering to dissuade her, Temperance said all of the expected things and offered as much sympathy and concern as she could. She used phrases she'd heard Booth deliver empathetically and repeated words of encouragement he'd offered to countless families of victims they'd identified.
She'd kept her composure until the woman insisted that Booth would not be allowed to be present at the memorial service the family would now be planning in three days. She'd argued with the woman about the fact that Booth would demand to be present. She'd flinched but held her tongue when the woman had realized who she was and when she'd unleashed all of her anger and frustration on her—accusing her of being the other woman—the reason that Fallon had been kidnapped. Ignoring her own wounds, she fought diligently to defend Booth's honor. She ended the call as diplomatically as possible and sat for a long time in the office, leaning back in the chair and allowing the essence of Booth to permeate her senses. Telling him this news was going to be difficult. But she had to hold it together in order to help him cope with its consequences.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
Squeezing her eyes shut tightly for a moment and wishing that she had a faith or some other irrational guidance to convince her that she could get through this ordeal, she knocked softly on the door. The sympathy on Evan's face when he opened it made it even more difficult to stay calm and focused, but she moved past him into his apartment in search of her partner. Evan watched the woman and wondered if she had any idea how deep her devotion to Seeley was. Her urgent need to see him and to deliver what would be crushing news revealed more about her feelings for the man than an outright confession would have. He watched as she strode quietly into the apartment and then stopped suddenly. Evan saw her pause and absorb the image of the man she loved. He saw the pain she would have denied and her ache to rush into the arms of the man unaware of her presence. Feeling like an intruder, Evan turned and walked farther away to give them a moment to reconnect.
The sight of him in the kitchen making dinner was jarring for Temperance. Booth was obviously freshly showered and as happy as he might be under the circumstances. These few days with Evan had minimized the lines of worry around his eyes and across his forehead. He looked as relaxed as she'd seen him in ages. She filed away the memory knowing that his visage was soon to change. She hated to be the reason that all of his torment would come flooding back. Sighing, she looked back over her shoulder toward Evan miserably. He nodded sadly—clearly sharing her concern for their friend.
"Bones! God, it's good to see you," Booth exclaimed when he saw her. Forgetting everything else except his happiness to see her, Seeley crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him tightly, needing that embrace to bolster her courage.
He pulled her back at arms' length and looked at her, noticing how tired and sad she looked. His heart sinking, he hugged her again tightly, as much for his own sake as for hers. Then, suddenly needing space so that he could breathe, he pulled back and went to the kitchen, turning off the burner on the stove and retrieving three bottles of beer from the refrigerator. Almost unsteady on his legs, he placed two bottles on the kitchen table and retreated to the corner of the room. He sat in Evan's recliner, taking a long sip of beer and placing the bottle down on a coaster before bracing his elbows on his knees to wait for his partner to tell him the bad news.
Finding a courage even she had not known she possessed, she told him about the recent package, about its contents, about the fact that the heart they had found earlier had not been from Agent Patterson, and about their tentative confirmation that the other evidence had been. He nodded sadly, his voice unsteady as he explained that the tattoo was from Fallon's right scapula. Fighting tears, he listened as Bones told him that Fallon's family had been notified and that they were planning a memorial service for her in three days.
Booth shuddered as he realized that he'd be standing at a funeral for his lover in three short days. Despite the horror of it all, he held it together until Bones tried to reassure him that the evidence they'd examined in no way indicated fatal wounds or supported the theory that Agent Patterson had been killed. He loved her for staying his Bones, for reassuring him so emphatically, for dealing with all this crap she shouldn't have had to face—for him. Tears finally falling, he hung his head and wept silently for his loss for a few moments—for Fallon's suffering, for the crap they were all trudging through. Sniffing hard and swiping the tears away as quickly as they'd started, he pulled himself together. Relying upon his training and years of experience ignoring his secret pain, he stood slowly. After thanking Evan for his help and reassuring him that he'd call, Booth retrieved his bag and asked his partner if she'd drive him home.
Wordlessly, the partners rode across town to Booth's apartment. Parked outside, he spoke without looking at her. He thanked her. He told her he'd be going to Philadelphia for the funeral. He waved off her warnings about Lydia's insistence that he not be there. Then, not giving her time to talk to him about things that would make both of them too emotional, he thanked her again and told her that he'd call her when he got back into town later in the week.
Realizing his need for privacy, Temperance sat silently, wishing she could hug away his pain and his sadness. She watched him walk to the building, noting the subtle slump of his shoulders and the slower than usual tread of his footsteps—changes that wouldn't have been observed by others who knew him. She felt as if there were a lump in her throat as Booth paused to wave sadly in her direction. She watched as he checked to make sure that her security detail was in place. She was as moved by his attempt to help protect her as she had felt compelled to check herself to make certain that his team had followed him into the building. Aching to leave him alone but realizing that circumstances dictated that she do so, she'd driven home to fall into bed for another night's fitful sleep.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
Two days later, an enraged Angela stormed out and slammed the door of her friend's office hard. She'd tried everything—guilt, bribery, outrage, badgering—but none of it had worked. Her friend would not be moved. They were all flying up the next morning in Hodgins' jet to Philadelphia for the memorial service. However, in typical fashion, Brennan had refused to go with them. Instead, she had blabbed "ad nauseum" about the illogical tradition of holding funerals—noting that this one was even more ridiculous since they had no evidence of Agent Patterson's death.
When Angela had begged her to go for Booth's sake, Temperance had shut down completely and asked her to leave the office. Raging that Booth needed her and that she was being a coward not to go hadn't worked, so Angela had eventually given up. Her friend could be so rigid and infuriating sometimes. She understood why she didn't want to be there, but it didn't make accepting it easier. Dreading the fact that they'd all have to pretend they could console Booth the way his partner could, she left to prepare for the trip.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
Expecting a brush off from his boss given Angela's latest outburst, a quiet Hodgins stood in the doorway of Dr. Brennan's office a few hours later. Instead of insisting that he leave, she ignored him. She sat puzzling, a look of intense concentration on her face. Drawn in by curiosity, Jack walked into the room and sat down across from her desk. "Can I help?" he offered.
Surprising him, she snapped out of her thoughts, realized he was there and that he'd offered to help, and half-smiled as she nodded. Then she explained what was troubling her.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
The following afternoon, Booth stood uncomfortably in the corner at the back of the church where Fallon had grown up. He felt sweaty and uncomfortable, and, at times, as if his tie was literally choking off his air supply, but he gritted his teeth with determination to do the right thing.
He'd thanked the minister and met with the FBI elite and the agents who'd arrived to pay their respects. He'd successfully avoided Lydia who had glared daggers at him from afar. Refusing to be cowed by her insistence that he didn't belong there, he'd offered his sympathy—and his apologies—to her mother who had hugged him tightly and told him how much her daughter had loved him.
Counting the minutes until the ceremony would begin gave Booth something to do to distract him from his thoughts and his guilt and the increasingly blatant glares from Fallon's sister. Sighing, he checked his watch again. Twenty minutes. He could do this.
Cursing internally for having shown up so early, he resumed his perusal of the crowd from a polite distance—not quite able to shake his habit of sizing everyone up and getting a read on the room and its occupants. He might be off duty, but he couldn't stop his impulse toward law enforcement—even if it had failed to help him protect Fallon. He sighed again.
After being distracted for a short while applying tools of his trade, Booth's cool composure nearly crumbled when he looked over to see the crew from the Jeffersonian—his squints—file into the building. He told himself not to be disappointed when he didn't see his partner walking along with them. He knew her position on funerals and would have been more surprised if he'd seen her there. Swallowing hard, he braced as they approached him, their eyes telling him how sorry they were he was dealing with all of this. One-by-one the ladies hugged him and left tearfully for their seats. Wendell punched him on the shoulder and turned away too quickly. Evan, who had tagged along with the convoy grasped his hand and told him he was praying for him. Hodgins, the last to arrive, stood silently beside him for a long moment.
"You know Dr. B," he finally said in a hushed tone. "She doesn't believe in funerals."
Booth nodded, grateful that Jack had broached the subject so that he wouldn't have to keep wondering if Bones might come around the corner. He understood her absence completely—probably better than anyone else. In fact, he was now grateful that Bones hadn't come with them. Seeing the rest of them there had been staggering. Having Bones there would have made him too emotional. This would be easier without having her there.
After bumping Booth's arm with his shoulder in uninvited but welcomed support, Hodgins moved to sit with the rest of his team.
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
Ten minutes later, Booth started considering where to sit. Pacing and lurking around silently had been good for him—helped him deal with his nervous energy. He'd decided as soon as he'd arrived that he wasn't going to sit down until the last minute. He considered his options—sitting near the front of the building, with the FBI team, and with the squints. Then he considered moving to the back of the room and sitting alone. His thoughts about what to do were violently interrupted when he felt the impact upon his ribcage...
THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…
(No, I'm not mean enough to leave it there. Not today anyway.)
Almost knocked off balance completely, Booth fought to recover his equilibrium. On instinct and adrenaline, he held tightly to his son who had materialized out of nowhere to hug him tightly around his waist. It took moments for the reality of his presence to sink in. Still reeling from the surprise, he looked up to see Pops approaching with an encouraging smile. Grateful for the hug his grandfather offered freely, Booth grasped him tightly. His spirits were buoyed by the presence and support of two of his favorite people. Booth smiled in spite of the sad circumstances. He'd never considered bringing them, but, God, he was glad they were there.
Still smiling while trying to refocus and work on finding seats for them, Booth's breath caught and his genuine happiness faltered when his eyes landed on the person who'd driven these two people there to support him. Tears rushed in and were blinked back quickly as he made eye contact with Bones.
Smiling sadly at him from the doorway, she nodded at him and then looked away, unable to bear the emotion on his face. Booth took a deep breath and tried to calm his wildly beating heart as he watched her walk over to sit with the squint squad. Watching closely, he saw looks of surprise and then complete approval on their faces. He watched as she and Hodgins exchanged looks full of indeterminate meaning.
The lengths to which this woman—this woman who declared so wrongly that she did not have an open heart—would go to bring him comfort and be his friend…. It was almost too much for him to handle. Yet, because of her gesture, because of the presence of his family, he knew that he could survive this. She'd brought him exactly what he needed. And she'd given him the space that was appropriate-if not what he actually wanted.
Bones...
Stopping himself before he got caught up in thoughts about his partner that weren't going to make the day any easier and realizing that the ceremony was about to begin, Seeley ushered Parker and Hank down to a row with a few empty seats in the middle of the cathedral. Like Bones, he still wasn't convinced Fallon had really died, but it was time… time to say goodbye and pay his respects. He owed it to Fallon to show her the respect she deserved and to allow himself to grieve her loss. He owed it to himself to take the time to pray his way through her funeral and to try to begin to forgive himself for letting The Taker get to her. This wasn't going to bring closure, but it was something he had to do for her and for her family.
Feeling Parker reach over and place his small hand in his, Booth smiled at him and held it tightly. Had Bones known that having his family there with him would have simultaneously given him the added strength he needed and provided the impulse to stay strong for their sakes so that he could keep from allowing himself to be too emotional? He couldn't be sure, but he sure was grateful it was working out that way.