Once again, I'm sending out a gigantic thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm a total review junkie, plus all of those comments really spur me to write more.
Disclaimer: Basically anything you recognize isn't mine. I'm just borrowing them. I'll put them back where I found them, I promise.
Ch. 5 – X-rays and Case Files
Booth checked his mirrors as he turned out of the parking lot and maneuvered his behemoth SUV into the stream of traffic. At this time of day it was going to take them at least an hour to get back to the lab. He pulled to a stop behind a two-door coup with the top down. Resting his left arm on the top of the steering wheel he glanced at Brennan seated next to him. She had just added the photo of Carrie Matthews to the rest of the file that she had stowed away in her bag. He returned his attention to the traffic when an obnoxious kid, in a car that he obviously hadn't paid for, honked. Once he had stopped at a red light, Booth again glanced at his partner. She was still staring at the photograph of the young, smiling woman.
She hadn't noticed it before, but as she slipped the paperclip over the corner of the photo, the resemblance of Carrie Matthews to herself, caught Brennan's attention. Maybe it was just the photograph attached to a file that reminded her of hours spent in a social worker's office while he split his attention between her and the never-ending ringing of the phone. Maybe it was the innocence in her smile that Brennan only found in photographs of herself before her parents had disappeared. Either way, the similarities struck her and she again found herself sympathizing with the unfortunate girl, the victim of a senseless crime. She hadn't noticed the length of time she'd spent gazing at the photograph until Booth reached over and gently shut the folder. She looked up in surprise, a protest on her lips when she caught the concerned look in his eyes. Realizing that he had done it in what he thought was her own best interest she didn't speak and instead gave him a gentle smile. He smiled in return, their gazes suddenly locking in a gaze that changed from mutual friendship to a look that expressed something more, something Brennan couldn't identify. A cough from Clark in the backseat broke the intimacy of the moment and Booth turned his eyes back to the road.
"So, where are we going now?" Brennan asked, attempting to swallow the emotions that had risen into her throat while gazing at Booth. "To the frat house?"
"No," Clark said shortly, "there's no point going there yet."
"No point?" Booth queried as he changed lanes. "I don't think there's absolutely no point. They could help us figure out exactly when she disappeared, whether anyone saw anything."
"I doubt anyone saw anything, our killer's too smart for that. Besides, he's well practiced by now," Clark said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.
"You better than anyone should know that a repeated act without being caught leads to sloppiness," Brennan interjected. "Besides maybe our killer is a member of the fraternity."
Clark barked a brief laugh and then spoke again, "Our murderer a frat boy? Dr. Brennan you have no idea how funny that is. Even your average male college student isn't even close to this killer's profile."
"Well, what is the profile?" Brennan asked. "After working this case for almost a week now, you still haven't told me what kind of person we're looking for."
Clark rested his head against the back of his seat and closed his eyes and then began to recite details, "Our killer is male, probably about thirty-five, thirty-eight at the oldest. He's white, with a college education most likely from an institution similar to MIT. He has a steady office job that I would imagine pays rather well. He owns his own vehicle. He is unmarried. His parents are both dead, the mother before the father I'm certain, and he's an only child. He always has the tools he needs for his kills readily available because they aren't planned more than an hour or so in advance. That's based on the fact that none of the victims reported feelings of being watched to friends or family before they died. He's smart, possibly religious although not a Christian, and he's searching for something."
"How do you know that?" Booth asked.
"The murders themselves have the same feeling of a room that's been methodically ransacked," Clark replied, baffling Brennan who couldn't understand how there was possibly a similar ambience between a room that had been thoroughly searched and a murder scene. Glancing over at Booth, however, she found him nodding. Maybe his more extensive experience made the statement plausible. Brennan shrugged and turned to look out her window, smiling at a baby who was giggling and kicking its feet in a car seat in the vehicle next to them. With Clark's closing statement the conversation had ended.
The silence stretched on for almost fifteen minutes, the only sound when Booth turned the steering wheel or flipped on a turn signal. Brennan smothered a grin when a light snore was emitted from the backseat. Obviously Clark had fallen asleep. Booth spoke softly to her.
"Do you want me to drop you off at the lab?"
"Yes, please. Zach should have the bones cleaned off and the x-rays should be developed. And Hodgins promised to go through all the paraphernalia that the medical examiner's office sent over with the remains. I want to collect all the evidence we need and release the bones as soon as possible. I want her family to be able to bury her properly before her brother's wedding."
Booth nodded in understanding.
"So, Clark was well-behaved while I was camping with Parker?" he asked, attempting subtlety.
"Yes, Booth. I only saw him once before you returned and we exchanged only a phone calls. Mostly I was asking some clarifying questions," Brennan replied, recognizing only the surface level of the question.
"Good, good. So he didn't try anything then?"
"Try what? What do you mean, Booth?" Brennan asked curiously.
Booth smiled. Obviously if Clark had tried to put any kind of moves on his partner, she had been totally oblivious. That was his Bones. She didn't see something unless it was a Mack truck aimed straight for her. Or a pile of bones on her table.
"Never mind, Bones. We'll be at your lab soon. Then I'm going to head over to my office. I'll call you if anything new comes up."
"Ok."
They sat in companionable silence for a while until the snoring from behind them became unbearable. Unable to resist, Booth shot Brennan a devilish smile and reached over to the radio dial, blasting an oldies station at full volume. As Clark snorted awake and yelled for being awoken, Booth and Brennan lip-synched to the Beach Boys' wish that they all could be California girls.
Pulling up at entrance to the lab, Booth put the vehicle in park as Brennan gathered her bag and slid out. Standing in the gap between the vehicle and the door she turned back to speak to him.
"Thanks, Booth."
"No problem, Bones. I'll see you later."
She nodded, stepped back to slam the door shut and then changed her mind.
"Booth?"
"Hmm?"
"If you try to get those photos from that journal article, I'll know."
"What photos?" Booth asked with a mischievous grin.
Brennan smiled back and then closed the door. She gave a brief wave as they pulled away and then turned to enter the Jeffersonian. Internally she attempted to push away the image that seemed to be burned into her mind of Booth's dark eyes gazing into her own, expressing something that she had been unable to comprehend. She would not spend the rest of the afternoon thinking about it. She had bones to study. Carrie Matthews' bones.
Booth sank into his desk chair with a sigh. He'd finally ridded himself of Clark and with the pest out of the way he could give full attention to the large stack of files that Brennan's office had sent over for him to peruse. A dozen thick manila folders stood in the center of his desk. He didn't want to study these. To see the faces of these unfortunate women, prey of some psychotic killer who enjoyed hearing them scream. Who killed them without any qualms and later dumped their bodies where scavenging animals would inevitably rip them to pieces. No he didn't want to see these innocent faces and then see the crime scene photos. It was this part of the job he hated the most.
But this time, like every time before, he did it anyway. He did study the faces, he did read the reports, he did examine the crime scene photos. It would all be worth it in the end when they caught the bastard. When they locked him up in a federal prison and threw away the key. And he would give a sigh of relief that another killer was off the street. He wouldn't think about how every single one of these girls frighteningly reminded him of Brennan.
Booth leaned in the doorway of one of the smaller examination rooms of the lab at the Jeffersonian. Brennan was standing next to the illuminated table comparing the bones laid out before her to the x-rays she held in her hands. Her long auburn hair was pulled away from her face in a sloppy ponytail and her blue lab coat was open. Booth watched her in the depths of concentration as he had a million times before, still surprised by how attractive she was when she didn't even know he was there. She let out of sigh, and glanced up in his direction, finally recognizing him and giving him a wide smile in greeting.
"I was wondering when you were going to show up," she said, beckoning for him to come closer.
"Many apologies for my lateness," he replied, approaching her.
Sidling up to him, her face uplifted and Booth responded with a brief kiss on the lips. An act he performed like he'd done it a thousand times before. He opened his eyes to smile at her and instead found himself staring down at the smiling face of Carrie Matthews. And suddenly he wasn't in the lab, but in a warehouse, the familiar barking of angry dogs not far off and Carrie was hanging on a hook from her handcuffs, screaming as a masked man beat her with a plank of wood. But suddenly it wasn't Carrie hanging there but Brennan. She turned her piercing green eyes directly at him and as the hunk of wood solidly connected with her flesh, she opened her mouth to emit scream but a shrill ringing came out instead. Struggling to reach her Booth ran without moving as she released the harsh sound again.
Starting awake, Booth stared at the clock on his desk. 5:07 a.m. He must have fallen asleep at his desk. The phone rang for the third time and this time he picked it up with a groan, shaking away the demons from his nightmare.
"Booth," he mumbled groggily.
"And you harass me when I fall asleep at the office," Brennan cajoled in his ear.
"Bones, please tell me you didn't call to lecture me about my hypocrisy at five in the morning."
"An intriguing idea, but no. Clark just called. He thinks we've got a second victim."
"Already?"
"Hmm. Meet me in twenty minutes at the National Aquarium," she replied shortly and hung up.
"The aquarium?" Booth asked the dial tone.
Shaking away the cobwebs from his none-to-restful sleep, Booth pulled out a fresh shirt from the third drawer of his desk. There was no way he was going to work with Bones in a shirt he'd already worn for thirty-six hours. Especially not when a single workday with her tended to stretch on towards the twenty-hour mark. Bones would thank him if he put on a clean shirt and a little aftershave, even if it did make him a couple minutes late. Besides, even if she did complain he'd just point out that at least he hadn't taken a shower in a lab like she had. He was certain that when he'd talked to her just then before she'd hung up, he'd heard the sliding door of her office open in the background and Angela complain, "You slept here again?"
There you are. Yet another chapter. I apologize for how short it is but I needed something to use as a filler between the last chapter and the next one. Hope this wasn't too disappointing. Let me know what you thought and send any suggestions. I'm open to anything. Especially chocolate.
