A/N: This chapter is a little sad. I promise more fluffy BB moments in chapter 4.
Thank you for all of the reviews.
Chapter 3 – Shells
Brennan woke up at the lab, her forehead kissing the desk where she had sat going through galley proofs until the early hours of the morning, once she had done what she could with the body and given up hope that Stuart or Booth would phone. She hadn't known why she was waiting for Booth's call, maybe for an apology after what he had said or maybe for something else – to find out about the boy perhaps.
She dragged herself up out of her seat and headed to her office where she kept shower stuff for situations like these that were becoming all too common. Waking up at work was something that was happening at least once a week now. Last night had been the first time in ages that she had gone out with someone just to enjoy herself and not talk about mutilated bodies, serial killers or hits that had been put on her. And yet again, another evening had been ruined by Seeley Booth.
She headed to the bathroom, hoping that the jet of warm water would rejuvenate her and wake her properly before Booth came walking in, demanding to know what she had found out and then taking her off to talk to various relatives and suspects and making her feel even more inadequate by giving her that look that told her she had embarrassed him once again.
She looked at the shower gel in her hand that promised to revitalise the body and awaken the senses. Somehow she thought it was going to take a lot more than shower gel to do that after last night.
Booth arrived before Zach, wandering through the doors of the lab at six thirty. His face was creased with a pained expression and his eyes looked heavy, as if he hadn't slept. Brennan looked up at him from the microscope she had been squinting into and braced herself for another bad day. Clearly his mood was no different from last night.
"What've you got?" He asked, not even a glimmer of smile haunting his lips.
She took a step back from the desk, her hands going to the pockets in her lab coat. "Nothing conclusive. The only thing I have noticed is on the left hand where there is still a little flesh - the extremities are hyper-extended."
"What could have caused that?" Booth asked. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes and put it down to spending a night with Tessa after not seeing her for a while.
Brennan shrugged. "It could be down to a number of things. One of those things is poison. Certain types of poisons can cause hyper extension in the extremities," she told him, her voice flat.
"That could be a possible cause of death, then. Couldn't it?" He said, perking up a little.
"I really couldn't say. The bones are telling me very little. He was a healthy seven to eight year old child. I would suggest he was from this area due to the fluoride levels in his bones and teeth, as they are consistent with the water supply in this county. He had no illnesses, no broken bones, or healed bones – that's about it, Booth. When Angela gets here she will start on a facial reconstruction," she said calmly, not allowing his mood to affect her.
Booth sat down. "Any chance of a coffee?" He asked, no animosity towards her in his voice, just sounding down and tired."
"Sure," she replied, wandering over to where she had already brewed fresh coffee. She took him over a mug and sat in a chair nearby. Something wasn't right, that was clear, and even Temperance with her lack of people skills and intuition could see that he was clearly unhappy. She wondered if she should ask, or just leave it to Angela who would no doubt deal with it much more efficiently than she could.
So she simply sat there, drinking her coffee and staring at anything but him, her brain going over the child's body and mentally recapping her examination of it, although her thoughts were constantly impinged on by the man who sat so close.
"You been here all night, Bones?" He asked quietly.
She nodded, returning to the microscope, leaving the coffee undrunk.
"No phone call from your date?" She shook her head at the question.
"I don't think I'll be hearing from Stuart again, in anything other than a professional capacity," she said, not looking at him.
"Well, maybe that's for the best," he said, standing up and stretching. "He was an idiot."
"You didn't know him," she said, trying to focus on what was under the microscope rather than the oaf now standing behind her. "You can't possibly make a comment on someone when you've spent less than two minutes with them."
"I can get a good idea about someone quickly, Bones. That's my job, to evaluate people," he explained, that patronising edge to his voice grating at her.
"That's not rational, Booth," she said, delicately taking the slide from under the microscope. "What did you not like about Stuart, what evidence is there for you not to like him?"
"His eyes were too close together. That's one of the ways in which people used to identify criminals," he said smugly.
"Using the physiological features of someone, is no longer regarded as a reliable way to identify psychopaths and sociopaths," she shook her head, looking at him directly, hands resting on hips. He could be so infuriating sometimes. "Stuart was a perfectly nice person. And you now have no reason to be worried about me sleeping with him as you clearly put a stop to that."
"Well, maybe you'll thank me one day," he said, turning round and making his way to the exit. She did not let her eyes follow him.
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Zack and Hodgins arrived shortly after Booth's departure, their argument from yesterday now replaced by one about the speed of arachnids versus the speed of millipedes. Brennan quickly closed her ears as they walked passed, not even bothering to return their greetings. She had left a collection of bugs on Hodgins' desk, all safely caged, hoping they would give some idea as to how long the corpse had been there and the time of death. It wasn't that unusual for them to work Saturdays, and neither would have hadanything better to do.
Her mood had significantly gone downhill since Booth had arrived, blackening her day with his tired eyes and cantankerous attitude. Why he got to her she didn't understand. Other people's moods rarely affected her, she simply ignored them and became lost in her work, which was what she was trying to do now by analysing every inch of the skeleton, but images of Booth kept on dragging themselves through her mind, and it was almost a relief when Angela appeared, an hour early thanks to a phone call asking her to come in and take a look at the skeleton.
"Hey, Bren," Angela chirped. "How was your date?" Angela smiled warmly. Brennan looked blankly at her.
"What date?" She demanded. "The one that Booth interrupted, and behaved like an ass during?"
"Oh dear," Angela smiled sympathetically. "It's like I've told you before, sweetie, he's jealous."
Brennan glared at her. "He was having a bad day, Angela. He came in here this morning looking like he'd not slept in a week and in a really unreasonable mood."
"Have you thought it might be trouble with Tessa?" Angela asked, sounding hopeful.
"I haven't thought anything," Brennan lied. She had thought plenty. She held up the skull from the body and turned it round, her brain processing its features.
"You can keep on denying it, Bren, but one day it's going to turn round and bite you on the ass, and then you'll have to think about it," Angela said with a smile, looking over Brennan's shoulder at the skull. Her expression changed to one of sorrow when she realised that it was a child's.
"A kid?" She asked for confirmation.
Brennan nodded. "Seven or eight years old. I expect Booth to be over here soon with a list of appropriate missing persons."
Angela took the skull, having already put on latex gloves. "We'll soon know who you were," she said, trying to push emotions to the back of her mind as Brennan did, only she wasn't any where near as good. "I hate it when it's a kid," she said to Brennan, who was back at her microscope.
"I know. We all do, Ange. You have to think – you're the best person to help give his back his identity and help bring whoever did this to justice," she tried to comfort.
"I know," she looked at the skull sadly. "I take it you want this done as quickly as possible?"
Brennan nodded. "It'll give us something to go on when Booth comes back with the missing persons reports. I've written down all the measurements for you." She handed Angela a sheet of paper with the figures on. Angela took them in her free hand.
"Thanks, I'd best get down to it," she said, walking off. Brennan rested her forehead against her folded arms for the briefest of seconds, taking a deep breath, her sleep deprived mind switching between the images of the murdered boy and Seeley Booth, neither of which were currently wanted. She groaned, and tried to pull herself together, knowing that the day couldn't possibly get any worse.
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Booth sat in his office, his eyes skimming down a list of names and details on his computer screen, each one making him feel slightly more angsty. He hated cases where the vic was a kid, and he had a feeling that this one wasn't going to get any easier.
He pressed the print button and waited for the technology to work and the printer to spit out the sheets of required information. Nothing happened. He pressed the print key again, and still, no noise came from the machine. He reached over to it, resisting the urge to throw it through the window. No paper. Easily fixed.
Thirty seconds later he was on his feet, jacket on, and heading to the car, rushing as he got outside not wanting to get any wetter than he could help. The papers were tucked inside his jacket pocket, protected against the still pouring rain. The temperature had now dropped, and the humidity had decreased, making things a little more comfortable. He unlocked the car and jumped in, his mind wandering between possibly scenarios for the body he'd found and the anthropologist he would be dealing with at the lab. Hopefully she could give him an idea of when he'd actually died, then at least some of the possible I.D.'s could be discounted.
He drove cautiously. The water logged roads now posed a skid risk and given that they were becoming busy with people waking up and commuting there would be a high risk of accidents. The driving rain was making for decreased visibility also, and even with wipers on full it was difficult to see. The weather added to his already dour mood. Surprisingly though, it didn't have anything to do with Tessa and the break up. That was one of the things that cheered him, the thought that he now didn't have to deal with a relationship he didn't want, he was free to concentrate on Parker and his job, without having to worry about upsetting a temperamental female. For some reason he found an image of Bones dancing about in his imagination, and his bad mood deepened. Clearly she had complicated things. He was aware that he had acted rather idiotically around her last night and this morning, and given that in the next few days they were going to be spending a lot of time together he knew he needed to make amends.
He spotted a coffee shop and pulled over, grimacing as rain dripped down his back as he got out of the car. He'd parked in a no park zone, but the possibility of afine would be worth not getting soaked to the skin. He waited patiently for the rather slow girl to take the orders of those before him, using the time to decide what to get for the rest of the squints, not really having a clue what they liked, besides bodies and bugs. Eventually he decided upon blueberry muffins, and just got drinks for him and Bones. No doubt Angela's eyebrows would be rising when she saw that he'd favoured Brennan more than the rest of them. He chuckled as he gave the order, his black mood lifting slightly.
Entering the lab was like doing an obstacle course, avoiding the various people milling about, chairs being pushed into the walkway when someone stood up and tables in the most inappropriate places when you were trying to walk through carrying a bag of muffins and two hot drinks.
He saw Bones talking with Angela and looking at a piece of paper that he imagined would be Angela's first impression of what the boy looked like. His stare was broken by Zack cutting across him, almost making him drop one of the drinks.
"Sorry, Agent Booth," Zack apologised. "I just need to see Hodgins…"
"It doesn't matter, Zack, you don't have to explain anything to me," he said, feeling a little more back to normal. He saw Angela look up at him, hearing his voice. His eyes focused on the auburn haired scientist, still studying the paper.
"Booth's here," he heard Angela say. Brennan eventually looked up and their eyes met, the gaze holding for what felt like a long time, not even breaking when he handed her the hot chocolate he had chosen for her. Her look was almost a glare, rather like one cat weighing up another, wondering if it was going to attack. He didn't smile, feeling that would irritate her even more, and he resisted the urge to touch her in a greeting, knowing that he would likely suffer some physical pain in response.
"Thank you," she said, taking the hot chocolate.
"It's a peace offering," he kept his voice quiet, knowing that at least three pairs of ears would be listening into their conversation.
She nodded. "Doesn't mean I've got to forgive you," she replied, taking the lid off and studying its contents.
"I've not done anything to it, Bones," he protested.
"I didn't think you had, Booth. I just like it to be a little cooler, and having the lid off helps it to cool to the optimum temperature quicker," she replied, not even the slightest hint of a smile on her lips.
"I have muffins for you and the rest of the squints, as well," he held the bag up, feeling like he was an insect about to be trodden on, or at least dissected by Hodgins, given the look of distaste on her face. He felt a hand snake round him and take the bag.
"Thank you, Booth," he heard Angela say. "I appreciate these even if Bren doesn't."
"You're welcome, Angela," he glared at Bones. If she wasn't willing to make an effort to get along then he wasn't going to bother either. He started to get the sheets of paper from his jacket pocket, his eyes having seen the sketch that Angela had done of the boy. The sooner they could put a name to him, the quicker they could proceed with the case, and that was the most important thing. Whoever had taken the life from one child might do it to another.
"Lighten up, Bren," he heard the end of Angela's undertone to her friend. Booth looked up, catching Bones' eyes once more. He saw something in them that he had never yet managed to identify.
"This is a list of boys aged between six and nine that have gone missing in the Huyana River area in the past five years. It will help if we had an estimated date of death," he glanced to where Bones was now standing by his side, her eyes looking at each face printed on the paper as he swiftly skipped through the pages.
"Hodgins is seeing what he can do with that," she said, her eyes looking at the details of each missing boy. "I found some insect activity on the bones; it may help us with knowing how long the body had been outside for." She took the papers out of his hands and started to walk over to a desk, sitting down and beginning to study them. He grabbed a chair, pulling it next to her; his knee jutting into the drawers. He hunched closer, his head almost touching hers as she began to read through the details of each missing child. There were ten in total, although two could be discounted as they were from an area that didn't fit with the fluoride deposits in the teeth.
After five minutes she seemed to settle on one particular image, her finger pointing under the date that he had been reported missing - three months ago.
"That's him," she said, looking up at Booth, all differences between them forgotten. Before he could realise what she was saying, he found himself consumed with her, absorbed by her blue eyes and clear, pale skin. His skin tingled with the wanting to kiss her, so he diverted his eyes back to the picture she was pointing to. "It matches Angela's drawing, and in my opinion would fit with the condition of the body," she said seriously.
He nodded, looking between the sketch and the photograph of Thomas Ashley Dyer. "Has she programmed the details into that machine yet?" He asked.
"If by 'that machine' you mean the Angillator, then no, she's doing it now," Bones said.
"What about the dates?" Booth pressed.
"It depends on so many factors, Booth. We don't know where the body was kept after he died, although my guess would be somewhere relatively warm, as I think decomposition would have been quick. It also would have been speeded up by the heat that we've had. The organs that were remaining have also decomposed – I'd say he's been dead around eight to ten weeks, but that is as close as I get without guessing, and that's relying on him being somewhere hot, and this weather we've been having. Usually it takes around eight months for a body to become skeletonised, but given the condition of the bones, I'd say something has been done to speed up the process," she said, biting on her bottom lip.
He nodded, and without thinking put his hand on her arm. Her flinch made him realise what he'd done and he removed it quickly. "You're puzzled by this, aren't you?"
She sighed deeply. "It's not right – it usually takes months for a body to get to this stage. Nearly all of the skin is missing, yet the organs are still there. We know that the body was put there because of the lack of scattering and insect and animal damage."
"He put the body there on purpose yesterday, knowing that the rain was going to wash away any lingering evidence," Booth surmised. "He's had the body awhile and was waiting for the perfect time to leave it for us to find. There may be more bodies he has waiting for us." He felt a wave of disgust turn over in his stomach.
Bones shrugged, but a look of concern had overtaken her features. "This is what we have to go on. I'll have Zack run some tests on the bones and see if they've been washed with detergent of some kind that's taken away the skin. It may explain why the bones are so clean."
He nodded. "Shall we go see how Angela's doing?" She gave him a brief smile, and he felt himself brighten at the sight.
Angela was staring at the 3D image standing in front of her, tapping in details on the hand held machine that had helped her give many people their identities already. He looked at the image, and then referred to the picture in front of him. They were almost a perfect match.
He looked at Bones, she caught his glance and nodded in confirmation. "It's him," she said, moving closer to Booth to take another look at the picture of Thomas Dyer. Having her in close proximity began to cause goose bumps down the side of his arm, and he jumped slightly when she brushed against him.
"Nervous, Booth?" She said, giving him a puzzled smile. He ignored her, not understanding the true answer to that question himself.
"We need to take a trip, Bones," he said, the thought of what they were going to have to do next slicing through his heart.
She nodded, fingers going to her hair and redoing it in its pony tail. She looked up at him, and he read the look in her eyes easily. This was the worst part of their job, the part she had managed to hide away from, until she had started working with him.
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They headed straight for the home of Thomas Dyer, journeying through streets not too far from where Brennan herself lived. She watched the quiet roads, still running with torrential rain as Booth drove, having little to say. She could guess that he was wondering what it would be like if someone came to him and told him that Parker's body had been found. She looked at him for a second, his jaw set solidly and his eyes filled with a blank expression. He was trying to detach himself, just as she did every time she looked over a new body. It was something she had become a master at; spending years in the foster care system had created a toughened shell that little was able to penetrate.
Now, as the buildings sped by, that shell became a little thicker, as Tempe took her emotions to another plane, leaving them there until later, when it would be safe again, away from prying eyes, to reconnect and deal with the details of life that were better off forgotten, or relegated to a fictional piece of writing, where the lights could come back on at any time, safe in the knowledge that it wasn't real.
Booth pulled up at a house with a beautifully kept garden that seemed a little less waterlogged than the others on the road. At the front of the lawn stood a tall oak tree, its branches knotted and twisted from years of growth, the low branches making it perfect for climbing. She saw Booth noticing it too, and they looked at each other, the same sad smile mirrored on their faces.
Slowly they walked up the path, the silence continuing. Brennan knew the score, let Booth talk. She had every intention of keeping silent at this one.
He knocked at the door, the rain pelting down on top of them. Brennan could feel the rain wetting her hair, thankful for the water proof coat she had chosen to wear. Booth was in his usual suit, this time it was one she recognised to be an older member of his wardrobe. Obviously he didn't want to run the risk of ruining another new one.
The door opened and a woman, not that much older than Booth, stood there, puzzlement on her face. Booth took out his identification and showed it to her, worry flowing through her features as she jumped to the implications of the badge.
"I'm Agent Seeley Booth, and this is Dr. Temperance Brennan. We'd like to talk to you about Thomas," he said in a quiet but comforting voice. The woman let them in, ushering them into the sitting room that Tempe and Booth had seen from outside.
Everything was immaculate, not a dot of dust anywhere. The room was fashionably furnished, with very few ornaments or photographs. One picture sat on the mantelpiece, showing Thomas a little way up the tree, a smile playing over his face. Brennan couldn't smile back, and she felt intense sorrow. Clearly, her shell wasn't thick enough.
Mr Dyer sat on a chair facing the television, his feet propped on a foot rest and to her astonishment, her first book in his hands. He looked at her, a little embarrassed, and she diverted her eyes to Booth. She doubted that he had not noticed, very few details by passed the FBI agent, but he was clearly in no mood to exchange looks.
"You've obviously found Thomas' body," the husband sat up and said. He looked to Brennan, pain in his eyes. "If you hadn't, then you wouldn't be here."
Brennan fought for the right words, wanting to give them the facts about what had been found, but knowing that wasn't suitable. Booth must have sensed her struggle.
"Unfortunately you may beright. We believe we may have found Thomas' body last night," he let the words settle in, his tone soft and non-threatening.
"Can we see him?" His mother said quickly. Brennan saw tears begin to roll down her cheeks. The mother looked at Brennan. Evidently they knew that she would be the one dealing with their son's remains.
"Its probably not advisable at the moment," Booth answered again. "Dr. Brennan still has some tests to carry out before you can arrange a burial."
"Don't you need us to identify him – I mean how do you know it's him?" Mr Dyer asked quickly, hope setting in.
"We've gone off the pictures that we had of your son, and some other details, such as…" she felt Booth's glare in her and knew that she shouldn't start to give more details. "But it would help to confirm if we could have something that may have your son's DNA on it, such as a toothbrush or hairbrush," she finished.
"Of course," the father stood up. He looked shocked, stunned. "Maybe you want to check through his room – it seems that's always what detectives do when it's a child. We left everything just as it was, hoping he'd come back." Booth stood up and followed the father out of the room. Brennan stood to go to, but she felt a a grip on her arm and saw the mother stood beside her.
"How did he die?" She asked, stricken with grief.
Brennan felt her expression sink into one of pity and sadness. "I don't know," she hated saying that. "There's no obvious breaks or damage to his bones, no impact to the skull, so at present I really can't say."
The woman nodded, tears still falling. "Was he murdered?" Brennan was stumped. It was being treated as a suspicious death because of the way the bones had been found, but that was no evidence to ascertain that it was. She also knew that the majority of violent crimes were carried out by members of the family, so she wasn't sure how much detail she should be giving out.
"We're not sure," she replied, hedging her bets. "We're making enquiries."
The mother nodded. "I should go and join my partner," Brennan said, excusing herself. She turned round before she reached the door and looked at the woman who seemed to have shrunk with the news. "I'm sorry for your loss," Brennan said quietly as the woman began to break down into sobs.
She found Booth in the child's room, looking around without touching anything yet. The father still stood there, looking as if he had never seen the room before. For a split second Brennan remembered going into her parents' room after hearing the news about their disappearance and looking around it in the knowledge that they'd most likely never be coming back. She could still remember the smell of it, the way the sheets felt beneath her legs as she had sat down and the slight covering of dust that would never be cleaned by her mother.
"Why is the FBI involved in this?" The father asked, clearly on the verge of breaking down. "Shouldn't it be the local PD?"
Brennan looked over at Booth. That was a good question.
"It should be, but for the circumstances in which we discovered the body," he answered. "I can't tell you any more at present, Sir, but be assured that we are doing everything we can to get to the bottom of your son's death."
"You can't tell me because you think I may have done it, don't you? You always suspect the family," his voice began to break and he almost collapsed onto the bed. "I had nothing to do with it! He was my son! My little boy…" His words were smothered by his cries of anguish. Brennan heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and his wife entered, grabbing hold of her husband and joining him in his grief.
Booth caught her eye and she knew that he was preparing to leave. "Mrs Dyer, Mr Dyer" he called their attention. "We will leave you in private. I'll have an officer come by and check on you later. We will need to come back and speak to you again, maybe later ortomorrow. I'll leave you my number and you can contact me at any time." They nodded and Brennan wondered how much of it they would remember. Probably every word, she thought, it wouldn't be something they were likely to forget, it would be etched on their memory in permanent marker.
She led the way out of the house; the rain outside had eased slightly and no longer hit the ground with such force. The pathway was littered with puddles, the lush green grass providing a stark contrast with the grey sky and the atmosphere they had just left. They walked away, Booth briefly looking back up to the bedroom they had just been in. Brennan followed his gaze and saw the silhouettes of Thomas' parents, their arms wrapped around each other, as the punch of the devastating news hit them with full force.
You know the score - please review, it gives me a reason to carry on writing. Quite a few people are reading this but they're keepingtoo silent about what they think - go on - review, it doesn't hurt... :)
