{Next chapter! Yay! 8D You guys with your reviews are so awesome. They make me want to write faster to repay your kindness! Alrighty, so here's a little bit of Avalon foreshadowing what's to come. A fairly short chapter, but don't worry, the next will be up soon. Also, just as I don't know much about forensics, I am not an expert in Tarot cards either. On both accounts my knowledge is limited. But you know, it's just fiction, so whatever right?}
Sunlight flooded the park with distant light, warming the air and brushing away the memories of cold winter. It broke over the surface of the pond in a thousand sparkling diamonds and tickled the skin of the people out enjoying the rays. Angela was one of these people. She sat at a picnic table, her head tipped back, eyes closed. She was calm, breathing in the fresh scents of the outside world. It was such a beautiful contrast to the lab. In there, things were sterilized and cold, or dead and decaying. Out here there was life.
"Angela, you're early," said a familiar voice, her accent bespeaking a heavy New York origin.
Angela opened her eyes, greeting her psychic with a relaxed smile. She stood and leaned over the table to give her a quick hug. "Yeah, sorry. I just had to get away from work today. How are you?"
"I'm doing alright," replied the blond-haired woman honestly. She was modestly pretty, a few years older than Angela, and dressed rather well for someone of her trade. "How are you?"
"I'm… well, I don't know how I am. I'm good, I guess, but also not good." It wouldn't do any good to give her a canned answer. With Avalon, the truth was best. She'd figure it out eventually anyway.
Avalon got out her cards and began to shuffle them. "What's been going on?" she asked conversationally.
"I don't know. I just don't feel… It's like something is missing. Something is not quite right. It's messing with my head and ruining my relationship with Wendell and I could really use your help."
"Say no more. I am at your service. We'll see what the cards tell us today." She indicated to the tarot cards. "Ready?"
Angela sat up straight and took in a deep breath. A tiny, persistent voice in her head stirred. It was a voice that was born out of being best friends with an empiricist. It asked her if she really believed in this stuff, or if she only wanted to believe in this stuff. She angrily chose to ignore it. "I'm ready."
Avalon turned over a card. It was the Fool, which caused Angela to frown slightly. "You're unsure of yourself," said the psychic. "You're ready to make a new beginning, but you're not sure how to begin."
She flipped over another. The Empress. "Your life is content. You have love, and it is safe, mild, stagnant. Your world is beautiful a peaceful, but it has become your prison."
Next came the Wheel of Fortune. "A great change is coming, a change that will shake your safe, stagnant world and cause you to find what you feel is missing. This change will not include yourself alone, but will in fact be so great that it will include the lives of the people close to you."
The next card revealed was Justice. "You have a new puzzle to solve, a new wrong to make right."
"A new case," said Angela eagerly, her eyes wide, devouring this every word.
"Yes," replied Avalon. "A case that will remind you how the past affects our future."
Angela shook her head. "Wait, wait. You're saying this new case will be the catalyst for all the change that's coming?"
Avalon's gaze lifted to hers, boring into her with that clear, steady intensity that spoke of certain knowledge. "Yes, that is what the cards are saying."
The next card she flipped over was the Ten of Cups. "There is a child that is waiting to come to you."
Angela flushed immediately. "What? No, no Cam retested it. It was negative. Check the cards again, that one is wrong."
A smile twitched at the corner of the psychic's mouth. "A child waits, wanting to come to you, ready to be yours. With that child is also waiting great happiness. An idyllic life, one you will never tire of. Better than the one you have now, and never a prison."
"What does that have to do with the case? And with whom am I supposed to share this great life?" She felt strange. Something inside her leapt with hope at the thought of a baby. It was the opposite of reaction when she thought she might actually be pregnant.
The Hanged Man was the last card. "The answers to your deepest questions you will have to find yourself. Let this case speak to you, let yourself learn from it, and then search for the answers within. Angela, your life is waiting for you. You already know the answer. Let this new case reveal what is hidden."
Angela sat back, her head spinning. So much to think about. "This case is not going to just affect me, you said? It'll affect everyone?"
"Yours will not even be the most dramatic change," replied the blond woman.
"Sheesh. And I thought we were just dealing with two thugs who beat each other to death." She still couldn't imagine how those two dead men on the autopsy tables could invoke this kind of deep, life-altering change. Maybe they were the bodies of two very important men and everyone working the case was about to be propelled into super-stardom.
____
Later, back at the lab, Hodgins was quietly working away, identifying various particulates found on the two bodies. He was calm, methodical, trying to work without letting his mind wander too many places. Brennan was back, which meant Wendell was working away with her instead of wasting his time with Angela. That made it easier to concentrate.
He carefully slid a sample under the microscope and peered in. The geometric shapes and other-worldly colors were familiar to him. This was his safety zone. Facts, results, discovery. Like Brennan, he wrapped himself in a world of empirical pursuit, taking comfort in all things rational. It was why he and his boss got along so well, why they were close. It was why, together with Zack, they had formed the trifecta of logic and reason. Without Zack, the triangle was unstable. The Jeffersonian was getting to be a place he didn't recognize anymore. Angela had been there from the beginning, so he didn't mind her. She was emotional, irrational, very much the odd one out from the very start. Then came Booth, whose instinct and intuition drove the empiricists crazy. Still, they had adapted to his illogical methods because it got them results.
With the arrival of Cam came a whole new era for the Jeffersonian. Instead of being under the sole jurisdiction of their fearless leader Dr. Brennan, ever the teacher and scientist, they were now subjected to the more focused rule of this jaded coroner out of New York. She narrowed their view from grand intellectual discovery to forensic-relevance. There were serious growing pains during that time of transition, and it effectively solidified their loyalties to Brennan. Now, however, things ran smoothly and Cam, with her blinders and concentration was an integral part of the team. She was not like Brennan and Hodgins and Zack, but rather a little closer to Angela and Booth's kind. And then Zack left. Now the forces of 'gut-feeling' and ephemeral emotions outnumbered the purely rational minds. Then Booth integrated Sweets into their team. However appreciative Hodgins was of the occasional advice, Sweets was another source of irrational feeling-centered mumbo jumbo.
The interns who rotated in and out were somewhere in the middle. Some, like Mr. Nigel-Murray leaned a little more toward science, but with too many bizarre facts to be a true empiricist. And some, like Wendell and Fisher, were a balanced mix of both. Daisy was just a confusing mess of way too many emotions tangled with a dash of scientific inquiry.
Sometimes it was lonely. Brennan was frequently out pursuing the case with Booth, leaving Hodgins to stand alone as an island of reason in an ocean of crazy.
A folder was dropped onto his desk, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked up from the microscope to see Cam standing over him.
"I need you to give that to Angela," she said.
Hodgins gave her an odd look, frowning at the folder. "Why do you need me to do it?"
"Because I have to get on a collaborative call with the FBI forensics team," she muttered. It hadn't taken long after she'd been here for Cam to fall on their side of the forensic divide. The Jeffersonians versus the Bureaucrats. Booth was the only neutral territory, although sometimes they all suspected he favored the Jeff. After all, the Squints got the better results. "And Angela will ask me about what's going on with Michelle and I really don't need to get into that conversation right now."
"Fine," he sighed, picking up the folder. "By the way, I found traces of lady's perfume on our second victim's clothing. I still haven't traced what kind yet."
"Good work. Let me know when you have something."
After she had gone, he released a heavy sigh. He was comfortable with Angela, he didn't mind going to see her, he just didn't savor the opportunity to do so when Wendell was around. Especially since her pregnancy scare, when he confessed to still loving her and offering her anything and everything she wanted, he felt a little awkward being around them. He didn't know how much she had told Wendell, and how much she didn't.
___
Angela was back in her office, listening to music while she worked. She sat at a table, across from the cleaned skull of the second victim. Brennan had put a few tissue markers on it for her, but she didn't really need them anymore. She had been doing it long enough now that she had an instinct for it. She studied the gentle arcs of the cheek bones, her pencil tracing long lines on the paper. Her eyes traveled the shape of his jaw, the placement of his eyes, the size of his nasal cavity. She traced softly, reverently.
Even when the architecture of the face was drawn, she continued to glance at the skull for reference. Even when she was adding highlights to the eyes and hair on his head, she continued to look at that blank, face-less shape. It spoke secrets to her, even when there was no physical evidence.
Hodgins watched her for a moment from the doorway, recognizing the familiar tenderness in her expression as she worked. She deferred to the skull with great respect, and no doubt that respect would come out in her drawing. Dr. Goodman had once said hers was the most important job of all, and Hodgins secretly agreed. She wasn't so different from Brennan, actually. They both looked at empty bones and saw a person. Angela found the person in the decay, and Brennan found their story to tell. Maybe that was why, despite being complete opposites, they were so very close. It was an unspoken bond, probably realized by neither party. They found the people who were lost.
Finally she sat back, observing her work. Hodgins cleared his throat and walked in.
She glanced at him, surprised. "Oh, hey. Come here, look. This is the man, this is our John Doe."
He peered over her shoulder. "He looks kind, Angie. I thought you hated him for murdering the Lloyd Ellman."
"I did." She seemed perplexed herself, and a little subdued. "But I don't think he was a bad person anymore."
The man was very striking, with a handsome face and compelling, intense eyes. He seemed gentle, yet troubled. Hodgins was once again surprised how should could learn so much about a man just by staring at his skull.
"We'll find out what happened to him," Hodgins promised her, knowing instinctively how it would bother her now that she had seen his face.
"I know," she replied. "I just can't imagine what it could be. It's gotta be something huge."
"Why?" He gave the skull a curious look. "I thought Dr. B and Wendell already determined he died from a gunshot wound?"
She swiveled in her seat to face him, her eyes bright. She was eager to share with him what had happened at lunch. "Avalon said this case would change our lives."
He was taken aback, and it showed in his astonishingly blue eyes. "Come again?"
"Yeah, she said this case would shake up the lives of everyone involved! Can you even imagine what it could be?"
"Nope," he laughed. "What else did she say?"
She thought of the part about a baby waiting for the right time, and her cheeks colored a little. Her long, dark lashes shaded her eyes when she looked down with a private, secret smile. "Nothing."
The entomologist thought about pressing her for the answer she obviously didn't want to give, but suddenly he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Okay then. Cam wanted me to give this to you."
She took the folder and flipped through it without interest. "Thanks."
A brief silence lapsed between them. They both glanced back at her drawing. Finally he cleared his throat, realizing he didn't have any reason to be there anymore. "Alright. I'm going back to my particulates." And to his solitude.
"Wait-," she said suddenly.
"What's up?" he asked, turning back to her again.
She fussed with the corner of the notebook a little. "Have you found anything interesting in the particulates yet?"
He grinned. She was so readable to him. How many times had he seen that look on her face, when she didn't want him to leave? How many times had his heart warmed at that thought? "I found some ladies perfume on the clothes of John Doe, and some Barbassol on his face. Lloyd Ellman just had a lot of street grime on him. I'm still analyzing that."
"Shaving cream," she noted with a grin, indicating to her portrait. "Maybe I should give him a little bit of facial hair then. What do you think?"
"He shaved," laughed Hodgins. "I think he would want to be remembered without stubble."
____
At the end of the first day, this is what they learned: One, that Lloyd Ellman was beaten to death one month and three days ago. The fatal blow was delivered to the side of his skull, causing his inner ear to shatter and for his brain to hemorrhage. Two, the second man was shot in the throat by a poorly aimed small caliber firearm. Three, Lloyd Ellman had evidence of significant drug usage in his system at the time of death, including a variety of different illegal and prescription drugs. Four, the second man's tox-screen came back completely clean. There was no evidence of any drug usage whatsoever, including ever any prescription medication. Five, they knew what the second man looked like, but not his name.
That was all on the Squints end, headed by Brennan. Booth had less success. He managed to determine the vague area where Patrick Ellman was likely staying, but not specifically where. And as was typical of that kind of neighborhood, canvassing the locals only got them a lot of stoned nonsense.
Despite her team's success, Brennan had not yet learned the identity of the second victim and she was keenly discouraged by Booth's failed efforts as well. Later that evening at the diner, there was a noticeable change in the general mood of the two partners from the day before. The young, incorrigible Dr. Sweets had joined them and noticed their malaise right away.
"Bad day, today?" he asked.
He sat next to Dr. Brennan, who sat across from Booth. She had her chin propped in her hands, idly picking at her food. Her partner, meanwhile, ate silently, determinedly.
"You guys get a new case?" tried the young psychologist when neither of them responded.
Brennan glanced at him, her smooth brow furrowing just a little. "When are you going to let us read a copy of your book?"
"What?" he asked, startled by the deflect-tactic. "I wasn't… uh, wait, what? You expect me to let you proofread my book before it's published?"
"You're just going to publish a book about us before we even get a chance to approve it?" Booth asked, dark brow lifting. He acted stern, but he was mildly amused to see the kid squirm in discomfort.
"Approve what?" Sweets defended, trying not to be intimidated by the look the alpha male was giving him. "You don't get to approve anything! Dr. Brennan here wouldn't believe a word I said in it anyway, since she thinks my work is a soft, nonsensical science. And you! You mock half of what I say, so why would I let you manhandle it before it has a chance to be born? No way, man. You two will get to read the book and find out its secrets after it's published, just like the rest of the world."
Brennan chuckled in spite of her dark mood. "His logic is, for once, quite reasonable. I wont believe what he says in it and you would probably just ridicule it."
Booth saw no such humor. "Reasonable? No, Bones, okay? What if I don't want the world to know something about me before I know it myself?" Or what if he didn't want her to know something about him before he wanted her to know?
"Ah-hah!" Sweets said triumphantly. "So you do believe in my insights?"
"Well, he's constantly bringing you our case files and dragging you along with us wherever we go to profile suspects." Her tone made it clear exactly what she thought of his insights. "So it follows that yes, he believes in you."
"Yeah, okay, thanks Bones. Look, Sweets, I just want to know what you say about us before you make it public. Too much to ask?"
The young psychologist sat back in his seat, looking smug. "You know what? Yes, it is. I'm sorry."
"Our case is not going well," sighed Brennan.
Both men gave her an odd glance. Her unexpected revelation had not followed even a second of silence. The moment Sweets' thought ended, hers picked up. It was strange timing for an even stranger remark.
"What?" she asked, affronted by their expressions. "I thought we were having a conversation. I'm just taking it somewhere else since the book subject seems closed."
"Okay," said Sweets with newfound patience. "Well you've only been working on it one day, haven't you?"
She didn't hesitate a moment. "Yes, but usually we make more progress on the first day. Besides, this case is not a very informative one. It's the kind of case that makes me miss ancient remains and historical discovery. It's a drug case."
"Ah."
Booth snorted, causing him to choke on his water. "Ah? Ah, what? You say it like you understand, as if that explains everything, but do you even know anything about drug cases?"
The younger man was completely unsurprised by the other's skepticism. Unsurprised, but still vaguely irked. "Yes, I do. If this is due to drugs, it is very likely you will never catch the murderer. The people who exist in that world exist largely off the grid. Even if you identify the killer, that doesn't guarantee you can ever locate him. The hopelessness of the situation is probably causing a serious inner conflict for you both."
The two partners stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment. They glanced at one another, some kind of understanding passing between them. As usual, their unspoken communication irritated the psychologist.
"Oh, come on. What?" he demanded.
Out of all his patients, out of all the couples and partners therapy he had conducted, these two were some of his most infuriating. They had a very unique relationship. Constructed between them was this alternate reality, a completely other plane where they related to one another. It excluded everyone else and was so complex and obscure in its design that he could not penetrate it. Within this world existed their joined minds. It was where they had all the secret stuff that allowed two opposites to be so intimately connected with one another (without being literally intimate). Normally the facial, physical cues that gave people away were clear to him, but when they passed between the partners they were so fast and so quickly understood that he didn't have a chance to analyze.
Obviously, for this reason he was frequently frustrated.
"Nothing, Sweets," murmured Booth. "Way to boost our confidence in the case there."
He sighed. "Look, you guys may have to accept that some cases are just unsolvable."
Every cell in Brennan's body screamed in rage against this idea. She had to bite her cheek to keep from growling aloud, but her expression said it loud enough.
"However," he continued, cowed by the rage in her clear eyes, "That may not be this case. Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, you guys are the central cogs in a very powerful machine. Don't doubt the ability of that machine. I'm certain that if you decide you want to solve this case against all odds, you will be able to do it."
They considered that briefly, silently. Sweets grit his teeth when again they glanced at one another, but this time they shared the thought aloud. "I like the sound of that," said Booth with a half-smile.
Brennan's smile was crooked too, but had an unusually impish quality. "Do you consider yourself part of our machine, Sweets?" she asked carefully.
Slightly flummoxed at having been caught, he cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. "Uh, yes, I consider myself a piece of the machine. Though maybe a small…less important piece."
She grinned, putting her hand on his arm affectionately. "I think you are a piece too. Maybe a sometimes useless, inconsequential piece that exerts a lot of unnecessary energy, but an appreciated piece just the same."
Booth's gaze was pulled to that simple, sweet gesture. A little, uncontrolled part of himself wished he were in Sweet's place right now, receiving that favored touch. A bigger part of him, however, felt something akin to sadness. Sadness for her, because it was a gesture so reminiscent of the way she used to show her affection towards her strange little protégé, Zack. There was a void in her world without him. As much as Booth disliked the kid, he missed him because she missed him. Sweets couldn't fill that void, but maybe it helped just a little that they had him around. Book or no book.
When he met her gaze this time, the thought that passed silently between them made both partners grin a little. They both suspected that perhaps his piece of their machine was shaped like a baby duck.
{Fluffy fluffness. Haha gotta love it. As always, read and review. 3 Next chapter will be up soon! Maybe later this evening, maybe tomorrow. Check back soon!}