A/N
Here's the much delayed follow up, the Mother of All Chapters.
Actually it's just the first part at 3,700 words. Part 2 is being posted separately.
And I suppose the long wait has been cruel enough :)
I hope you like it. See you on the other end…
Monday Morning, Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, 8AM
On Monday, reality closed in on Brennan too…
Brennan arrived at the lab determined to knock out most of the tasks which had to be finished today early so that she could make the most of whatever time Booth was able to squeeze in for his visit to the lab in the afternoon. She was eager to get on with testing the incipient relationship with him. She was still on a bit of a high from the weekend even though on Sunday she had been mostly successful in setting thoughts of him aside so she could work on the next few chapters of her book.
But that was the weekend when it had just been the two of them and things had seemed so much simpler. With Monday ugly reality began setting back in when she saw Hodgins. She had almost forgotten the entomologist's tirade Friday evening, and was not at all looking forward to dealing with the obstinate little man when he was so obnoxious and self-righteous, in full tin-foil hat mode. The last thing she wanted was to spoil her mood by getting all worked up again about him. She decided that for now she would avoid him to the extent practical, and be very cool to him when she couldn't. After a while she presumed he would finally get the point, that as Booth had put it one time, he'd 'pissed in his whiskey' one too many times.
But Hodgins apparently didn't think he had a care in the world and had the unremitting gall to stroll over amiably to where she had just finished greeting Angela and Zach, his hands in his lab coat pockets.
"So how'd the date at the shooting range go?" He was oblivious to the slitted look Angela sent his way.
Brennan decided she'd better shut that down then and there and figured some dissembling was in order. She declared frostily, "Dr. Hodgins, shooting was enjoyable, but do you really think that if it was a 'date' that Booth would have put me to work cleaning the dirty guns afterward?" She gave them all of them a defiant glare, daring them to suggest otherwise. The formality was apparently lost on Hodgins as he and Zach processed the new datum and looked disappointed. "Uh, I guess not." Angela looked skeptical but played along.
The first hour of the morning was filled with growing tension as the team worked at finalizing and cross-referencing their reports to submit for another closed case, and sensitive as she was, it was getting to Angela. The awkwardness they all felt in dealing with Hodgins was amplified by Brennan's obviously still simmering resentment, and soon they were all snapping at each other somewhat, their normal easy camaraderie disrupted. Her earlier attempt to knock some sense into Jack had fallen on deaf ears. It was bad enough that even Goodman, who was out and about more than usual, noticed something was amiss. At one point he'd even attempted to corner her about it but she wouldn't play ball even though part of her wouldn't have minded ratting out Hodgins. After she'd given Goodman the slip by trotting out the ditzy artist routine, not that he actually bought it, she noticed that Brennan had retreated to the refuge of her office. She decided to follow in a little while.
- - -
Brennan rubbed her temples and tried to focus on making the final corrections to her part of the report. As much as she had wanted to try to ignore him, it seemed that she was going to have to speak her piece with Hodgins just to bleed off the tension and make her growing headache go away. But she so hated making a 'scene'. They always seemed so childish and unproductive, and she while she was certainly not shy about speaking her mind she just hated emotionally charged confrontations. The thought of intentionally entering one made her stomach hurt. Worse, that negative voice was starting to nag at her that the underlying issue, her vulnerability, was Booth – and they weren't even truly in a relationship yet. The clarity of her decision Saturday night was starting to be clouded by doubt. Things would only become more complicated and messy if her personal and professional lives became further entangled.
She was diverted from this line of thought when Angela tapped at the door and entered without awaiting her response. She looked concerned as she seated herself on the couch.
"Yes?" Brennan really wasn't in the mood to be bothered, but Angela surprised her.
"I'm sorry, sweetie."
"What?"
She explained, "I chewed him out this morning before you got here, but he didn't really budge. At least he wouldn't let me see it if he had. Apparently he decided that the best thing to do was to simply play dumb, like nothing happened, and hope it went just went away. I don't know if he was being stubborn or simply chicken shit." She sighed and looked at Brennan in commiseration, "Men can be so stupid." Then she grinned wryly, "Sometimes it makes even me wonder if they're worth all the trouble."
That got a small nervous laugh from Brennan, who thought the final comment struck a little too close to home. "Me too."
But Angela surprised her with a reassuring smile, "But the best ones are. Trust me."
Brennan asked in a small voice, "Do you really think so?" She didn't know what kind of answer she wanted from her friend.
"Yes," Angela affirmed, but she didn't elaborate, at least not directly. Instead she followed up on the earlier conversation out on the lab floor. "You know, I'm not buying that bit about cleaning his guns," she said conspiratorially.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Brennan said somewhat defensively.
"Sweetie, taking something apart, cleaning it, and putting it back together again sounds an awful lot like what you do with skeletons, and God knows how much you get off on that."
Brennan knew she had a lousy poker face and finally gave Angela a sheepish grin. "Guilty as charged." It was time to open up a bit with her best friend. "Actually we had a great time. I should have called you yesterday, but…"
Angela was understanding. "It's ok. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, you deserve it. You know I think the world of both you guys." She clasped her hands together and looked down at them. "I'm sorry I haven't been a better friend," she apologized.
"What?" Brennan asked.
Angela looked up and explained, "If I hadn't got carried away with all the teasing you might have felt like you could talk to me about it. That was so stupid, so high school. I should have been more supportive. I'm sorry."
Brennan really regretted not opening up to her friend. She should have known she could trust her. "I'm sorry too. I should have been more honest with you in the first place. Friends?"
Angela smiled big enough to show her dimples, "Always." She rose to her feet, "I've got to get back out there, but promise you'll talk to me later? I know you well enough to know the whole mixing business and pleasure thing has got to be bothering you."
Brennan nodded, feeling just a little better.
- - -
"Thank you, Mister Addy, that will be all," Dr. Goodman coolly pronounced.
Dr. Brennan's assistant left his office in a rush, grateful to be dismissed, relief evident on the young man's nervous face. Goodman grinned diabolically at the thought that he still had his "called to the Principal's office" routine down cold, but there was no humor in it – he detested ever having the need for it.
He punched in Dr. Hodgins' extension on his speaker phone and tried to restrain his temper as it rang once, twice, three times before the man answered gruffly… "Hodgins."
Apparently he noticed Goodman's extension displayed on his phone because he instantly mouthed off before Goodmdan could say anything…
"You'd get my results on the origin of the contents of the amphora recovered from that Phoenician shipwreck if you'd quit nagging and just let me do my damned job."
Goodman felt his blood pressure rise at least fifteen points in an instant. "I am not requesting a status update on that particular overdue project. We have another matter to discuss. In my office! TWO MINUTES!" But for being on the speakerphone he probably would have been unable to refrain from slamming down the receiver. That man could goad him so.
He was already highly annoyed, perhaps one might even say incensed, and, as so often seemed to be the case, the source of his annoyance lay with Dr. Jack Hodgins. No matter how talented the entomologist was in the application of his field of knowledge, he also possessed a similar talent for being the fly in Goodman's ointment. The Medico-Legal Lab of which he was director normally operated like a well oiled, finely tuned machine, but Hodgins was again acting like sand which had been thrown into the gears. Or this time more like a monkey wrench. The highly skilled team formed by Drs. Brennan and Hodgins, Mr. Addy and Ms. Montenegro was the real crown jewel of the Lab, and in conjunction with Special Agent Booth they had brought much credit to the Jeffersonian as a whole. Nothing pleased Goodman more than the interplay of their various complementary skills and the synergy which resulted when they were in proper alignment. Like all people they had personal issues which sometimes interfered with their work, but this morning when he had been out on the floor something more substantial seemed afoot.
The group was tense and oddly uncommunicative. Dr.Brennan had become very close-lipped with an obvious undercurrent of tension when he'd mentioned Dr.Hodgins. Only later, when he spoke to Mr. Addy at his station did he realize where the problem lay. He had asked him if he happened to know the status of one of Dr. Hodgins' projects, and the assistant had actually had the temerity to tell him, quite petulantly, that "If you want to know you should ask him yourself!"
One did not become an administrator, at least not a successful one, without the ability to ferret out interpersonal problems within one's organization, and deal with them before they grew too large. Most often a policy of benign neglect was appropriate, particularly when dealing with a group as quirky and cantankerous as fellow scientists, and problems usually resolved themselves. After all they were adults – yet sometimes the brightest people had the social maturity and skills of children. Ms. Montenegro, the most socially adroit of the group by far, often played the role of mediator, but even she seemed too close to this situation if her earlier behavior were any indication. Hence his intervention, unpleasant as it might get, which was why he had already seen Mr. Addy. He barely had to twist his arm at all to get to the bottom of it. In fact, once started the indignant young man had been quite forthcoming.
Goodman looked up at Hodgins' knock on his door frame. He noted that now he didn't seem quite so cocksure, thrown off by balance by Goodman's uncharacteristically blunt order to come see him, or perhaps by some glimmer of awareness of what it might actually be about.
He gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk, "Have a seat," he said curtly.
The scientist stepped inside the doorway but otherwise did not budge. " I think I'll stand, thank you."
It was apparent the shorter scientist was trying to play a dominance game by holding on to his height advantage relative to the seated administrator. Goodman would have none of it.
"SIT!"
Hodgins actually jumped, and came forward to cautiously sit in the left hand chair.
He had not planned to do it, but… Turnabout is fair play… Goodman played the height equals dominance card himself and rose from his seat to come around to the front of his desk, against which he leaned. In the new, closer position he towered over the seated entomologist. Goodman crossed his arms and looked down his nose as if he were the one examining an insect, and Hodgins was forced to look up uncomfortably.
"I imagine you know what this is about."
Hodgins' eyes avoided his for the moment, instead first nervously searching the office as if looking for an avenue of escape. Good.
"I'm afraid you'll have to fill me in." So… the scientist was going to be coy.
Hodgins deliberately leaned back in his chair, attempting to affect a relaxed, confident pose, but Goodman could see right through it. Hodgins' front was hampered anyway because in coming around to the front of his desk he'd intentionally entered the edge of Hodgins' personal space. The other man couldn't stretch out his legs properly and the desired effect was spoiled. Goodman cut to the chase.
"Your conduct Friday evening was despicable, utterly unbecoming a man of your position. In an earlier era your insults to Agent Booth's honor would have resulted in an invitation to coffee and pistols at dawn, and I would have gladly volunteered my services as his second, believe you me. Regardless of your private political persuasions, your slanderous remarks threaten to undermine a vital working relationship in this laboratory, and I will not tolerate your disruptions any longer! " He practically shouted the last part.
Hodgins seemed genuinely taken aback by the carefully calculated display of anger, which was not entirely feigned on his part. Excellent. Goodman was just getting warmed up…
- - - - -
Brennan's thoughts were still in turmoil, trying to re-read the same page for the fourth time when she was interrupted by Hodgins' knock at her office door. Angela! She grimaced at the thought of dealing with him before she was ready, and she didn't give a damn that he obviously saw her look of distaste. She really wished her friend had not intervened again, at least not yet.
Instead of his normal cocky self the entomologist almost looked… chastened… for want of a better word, hands in his lab coat pockets. But still he entered without waiting for her permission.
"Uh, Dr. Brennan, Temperance, we, uh, really need to talk."
She successfully resisted the sudden childish urge to insist she had nothing to discuss with him.
"Yes?" she answered coolly. He was going to have to work for it.
"Mind if I sit?" She nodded her assent, and he sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk instead of on the comfortable couch.
"About Friday night… I got way, way out of line with Booth. Regardless of what I think about the things HRT as done in the past, when it comes down to it the fact is he has been nothing but a friend to me even though I know I get on his nerves, sometimes even intentionally," he finished with a sardonic grin at his own expense. His expression became serious. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you telling me this? He is the one you need to apologize to," she insisted.
"I know. It's just I like to consider you a friend, and whether Booth is just your partner or your boyfriend…"
She interrupted reflexively, "He's not!"
Thankfully, Hodgins continued without arguing that particular point, "… either way, as a friend I should have considered your feelings more too. Again, I'm sorry."
Brennan sat in silence for a moment before replying slowly, "Thank you, Jack."
"You're welcome, Temperance." He smiled and rose to leave.
"Just one question, Jack…" She had to ask. He turned and looked at her from near the door.
"Did Angela send you in here?" she asked.
Hodgins surprised her. He actually chuckled before answering. "Well she gave me her two cents earlier, but let's just say that Dr. Goodman took it upon himself to re-calibrate my interpersonal skills and leave it at that." He laughed again and left.
Goodman? She decided she'd better leave well enough alone.
She was relieved that that particular fire was on its way to being put out, but it didn't really change anything with respect to Booth and her. The larger issue still facing her was that moving forward with him would mean that the tidy compartments in which she organized her life were falling apart, hopelessly intermingling. She didn't know if she could do it. She was afraid she was being a blind fool if she moved forward, and a coward who would never deserve to be happy if she didn't.
She put her head back in her hands and missed Zach's entrance and the fact that he shrank away when he saw Hodgins, but the latter scientist clapped him on the shoulder as if to say things were ok between them.
"Dr. Brennan?"
She jumped, startled by her assistant, and looked up to see him standing right in front of her desk with a file folder for her. He flinched, apparently expecting to have his head bit off. Given how the morning had been earlier, she couldn't blame him.
"Yes, Zach?" she asked as nicely as possible. "What do you have for me?"
He smiled in relief and handed her the folder. "These are all the affidavits for you to sign for the reports that are already completed."
"Thanks." She laid the folder open on her desk, on top of the draft she'd been attempting to read and reached for the old-fashioned bladder type fountain pen she liked to use for official signatures. She had never understood why the reports, which already signed in their own right, required a separate form swearing they were factually correct to the best of her ability in order to become expert witness documents before the court.
As she was signing the different documents in triplicate something suddenly clicked and she dropped the pen, a terrifying thought occurring to her… Oh my God…
Why didn't she see it before? She must have been stupidly in denial.
Her status as an impartial expert had been attacked in the past by defense lawyers trying to discredit her testimony by questioning her close professional relationship with the FBI. How much worse if they caught wind of a personal one? They'd have a field day. At the very least she and Booth would probably no longer be able to be partners. Worse, much worse, some sleazy but sharp lawyer might actually succeed in overturning many of the convictions they had already helped obtain in the last two years, everything they had worked for together. She was horrified. Perhaps, just perhaps, some sort of official disclosure of a relationship might head that off, but exposing her personal life like that was anathema to someone as private as herself. She had no idea how such a thing would work anyway.
The awful thing was, she needed an expert opinion on the matter and had no idea where to turn, whom to ask, where to start. The logical but absolutely last person she could talk to about it was Booth himself.
She put her head in her hands again and closed her eyes. Her headache was returning.
I can't... I can't do this.
But some part of her still wanted to figure it out, to fight for him…
Don't panic just yet. Talk to Angela…
Brennan sat up straight, steeled herself and started to dial Angela's extension when the artist herself appeared in her doorway.
"Goodman needs to see us ASAP. Something about an impromptu dog and pony show for a VIP. He said we won't mind this one, and our work can wait a couple of hours. Can you believe it? He's talking about this morning! God I hate the bullshit."
Utterly frustrated, Brennan took a couple deep breaths and tried to pull herself together. Spilling her guts to Angela would have to wait. But she desperately needed to talk to her before Booth arrived.
------------------------
Booth was happy to be finished earlier than expected with the tedious interview at the Naval Hospital in Bethesda and was about to reenter the District, heading southeast on Connecticut, when he noticed the time. On impulse he decided to change his plans…
He picked up the radio handset and keyed the mike, "Dispatch, 22705. I'm taking an early lunch. I'll be in later."
The radio crackled in response, "22705, Dispatch. Acknowledged."
Agents had a lot of leeway so strictly speaking he didn't need to call it in, but he figured it would spare him any unwelcome interruptions, barring the sky falling. Instead of heading back to his office at the Hoover Building he was going to surprise Bones and take her to lunch, just the two of them, kicking and screaming at gun point if needed. He grinned to himself at the image. He'd have it out with Hodgins after lunch if necessary, but until then, fuck 'im.
He felt like taking the scenic route today so before he hit DuPont Circle he would take a right and cut over to 23rd Street which would bring him to Constitution on the north side of the Mall all the way west over near the Lincoln Memorial. Washington was gorgeous in the spring time even with the throngs of tourists, and the only thing that would have made the drive better was if a certain forensic anthropologist were beside him. He grinned once more. Hell, he'd even let her drive again. Come to think of it, although today it wouldn't work, he vowed that in the next week or so he'd get a small picnic lunch and drag her out of the lab to eat at the Tidal Pool by the Jefferson Memorial where all the cherry trees were blooming in their full glory.
Life was good.
A/N
Poor bastard…
Next chapter it all comes to a head in a big way…
To the couple of readers who have been getting ansty – you just have to hold on a little bit longer.
As always, I am eager to hear your reaction, and I love specific feedback.
I am playing fast and loose with DC geography, not knowing exactly what the area around the Mall looks like at street level.
What was the second part of this monster chapter is being posted separately – combined it had grown to almost 7,400 words.
THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE UP VERY SOON, PERHAPS TONIGHT!
And trust me, it is gonna be a DOOZY!