Good morning everyone! Hope you enjoy this one. I had a hard time deciding how much of the actual episode to include in the retelling, but I think I ended up with a decent balance. I tried to summarize as much of the court stuff as I could, so hopefully it doesn't get tedious.
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Chapter 19
As Max's trial loomed ever closer, Brennan was having increasingly more trouble managing her anxiety. She was perpetually exhausted from lack of sleep, struggling with persistent nausea, and even feeling dizzy at times. So dizzy, in fact, that she fainted in Angela's office two days before the trial. When she regained consciousness, her friend was kneeling next to her on the area rug, her eyes wide with concern.
"My God, Sweetie! You scared the hell out of me! Are you alright?" Angela helped her to move from the floor to the couch, and Brennan closed her eyes in the hope that the room might stop spinning.
"I'm fine, Ange. My body isn't tolerating my elevated stress levels. I'll be okay."
"I should call Booth-"
"No!" she said firmly. Angela looked shocked by her outburst, and Brennan forced herself to stay calm. "Please don't tell Booth. He's already under a lot of stress himself, especially because of how poorly I've been feeling lately. Not to mention the fact that he has to testify against Max. His guilt is really troubling him, and I don't want to add to it. Please, Ange."
"Brennan, he'd still want to know."
"I'm sure it's nothing. I haven't had an appetite to eat anything yet today; I'm sure it's just low blood sugar combined with stress. Maybe even dehydration. I'll be fine," she insisted. Angela looked at her skeptically, and Brennan could tell her friend was weighing the risk of Booth's potential anger with Brennan's potential frustration over being ratted out.
"Okay, I'll stay out of it, but you have to promise to talk to Booth about it when you get home later." She paused and waited for Brennan to give her a reluctant nod of assent. "And for heaven's sake eat something. It's three in the afternoon, Bren."
"I will. Thanks."
"Don't thank me," Angela said sardonically. "Just leave me out of it when you tell Booth."
Brennan kept her word, or at least part of it. She did get something to eat and drink immediately upon leaving Angela's office, and by the time Booth arrived to take her home, she was feeling slightly better. At least she was no longer feeling lightheaded. She decided to keep mum about her fainting spell for the time being. Booth had enough to worry about at the moment, and she simply couldn't bring herself to add one more burden.
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The day before the trial started, Booth and Brennan were forced to spend most of their time apart. Booth was scheduled to attend a meeting with Caroline and the rest of the squints to go over their testimonies, and Brennan spent several hours at the prison with Max, Russ, Clark Edison and David Barron, the defense attorney. Clark had agreed to step in as the forensic expert for the defense. Although Max would have preferred to have his daughter's scientific expertise on his side, he wouldn't have asked it of her even if such an arrangement would have been permitted.
After the strategizing was finished, Brennan was left alone in the visitation room with Max, and he could see that her resolve was crumbling. He wasn't sure if she was ill or simply overwhelmed, but he was alarmed by how exhausted she looked.
"Honey, it'll be okay," he told her, doing his best to sound confident and reassuring.
"I can't stop this from happening." Her eyes filled as she struggled to maintain her composure.
"What do you mean?"
"Booth, Hodgins, Zack, Angela, Cam… They're all my friends, but I can't…" Brennan's voice broke as a tiny sob escaped her.
"Hey, listen. I know you love me, alright? I can see it even if no one else can, so that's something you don't have to worry about."
"Other people can see it too, Dad. I've been a mess for weeks," she sniffled. Max reached across the table and took her hand, bringing it to his lips in a paternal gesture of affection. Brennan gave him a watery smile. "I do love you. I'm sorry I don't say it out loud."
"I love you too, Tempe," he murmured quietly, closing his eyes to savor the words she'd spoken. They were a gift he hadn't expected. One he would cherish no matter how long or short his life turned out to be.
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Caroline was in high form during the prosecutorial briefing. She had a snarky tip for everyone in the conference room, and although the majority of them shrugged it off, Angela response was the biggest surprise.
"I'm not taking the stand," she informed the group.
"You have to," Cam said gently. Testifying against Brennan's father wasn't something any of them were looking forward to, but there was no getting around it.
"Look, I'm not gonna tell anybody else what to do here, but I'm not testifying." And with that, she stood and left the room. Fearing the possibility of a mass exodus, Caroline appealed to Booth for intervention.
"Bones wants us all to do our jobs. She's not going to hold anyone's testimony against them, alright? She believes in the system."
"Dr. Brennan does seem to have an enviable, if somewhat disturbing, ability to compartmentalize," Sweets agreed. Booth fought the urge to roll his eyes.
He wouldn't be saying that if he'd been living with her lately, he grumbled inwardly.
The others agreed that they would remain professional in spite of their personal feelings toward Brennan, and the group dispersed at the end of the meeting. Booth drove home that evening with a heavy heart and a mind full of questions. To his surprise, Brennan had been the first one home, and he found her in the kitchen working on dinner. He joined her, sneaking a kiss as well as a taste of the sauce she was stirring.
"So Clark was at the lab today to look at the evidence?" Booth asked as they sat down to eat a short while later.
"Yes. He's still going to do a more in-depth analysis of his own, but the attorney seemed satisfied with his preliminary findings. He's reading my past case files too."
"Why?"
"He said it was because I taught Zack."
"Ah. Makes sense I suppose." They continued eating in silence for a few moments before Booth broached the subject that had been distracting him all afternoon. "The meeting with Caroline was interesting."
"In a way that involves something you're allowed to tell me?" Brennan asked cautiously.
"Yeah. Angela's refusing to testify."
"What?" Her fork paused in mid-air, completely forgotten. "What do you mean she's 'refusing?' She can't refuse. It's her job."
"I know, and I think Caroline is going to work on her, but… She seemed pretty adamant. Got up and walked right out of the meeting."
"I should call her-"
"No, let Caroline handle it. It's Angela's decision anyway," Booth replied, his eyes fixed on his plate. Brennan was having difficulty reading his expression. He looked almost...hopeful.
"Why are you making that face? Is anyone else refusing?"
"No, just Angela right now. Though Hodgins seemed to be wavering a little. I've been thinking that maybe…"
"What?" she prompted. He was looking nervous.
"If Angela can get away with not testifying, maybe I could too," he said hesitantly. Yeah, I'd probably lose my job, but wouldn't it be worth it?
"Absolutely not," she said firmly. "You'd be fired, not to mention thrown in jail for contempt of court."
"Yeah, but-"
"No. No 'buts.' We've been over this. I want you to do your job, Booth. Get on that stand and tell the truth, no matter what."
"It feels like I'm betraying you, Bones. And I swore I'd never do that." He was looking her directly now, and she hated the pain she saw in his eyes.
"That's not what this is," she disagreed. "I won't hold it against you, regardless of how the trial goes. I promise. Actually, if you refuse to testify, I'll be angry with you."
"Angry?"
"Of course. If you lose your job, I lose my partner. I won't work with anyone else, Booth. Think about all of the lives we've saved by catching murderers. Think of all the ones we'll save in the future. It's wrong and illogical to value my father's life more than those countless lives we save by doing our jobs. You have to testify."
Their eyes held for another long moment before he nodded his assent. Sometimes he really hated when she used logic on him.
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Booth and Brennan sat together on Max's side of the courtroom while they waited for the judge to appear the next morning. Brennan noticed Caroline glaring at Booth, but he seemed to be ignoring her.
"Are you sure you're allowed to sit over here?" she whispered to her husband. "Caroline looks unhappy about it."
"She'll get over it. I belong here," he smiled at her. "With my family."
Brennan smiled back sadly, wishing they could simply get through the trial quickly. She suspected that the uncertainty of her father's fate might be worse than actually coping with the outcome. She'd been ill again that morning, and she was grateful that Booth hadn't pestered her to eat something for breakfast.
The judge seemed like the no-nonsense type, which was something Brennan could appreciate. They listened to the opening arguments, and when the judge declared a short recess before the first of the prosecutorial testimonies, they sat in the hallway with cups of coffee.
"Courthouse coffee is almost as bad as Bureau coffee," Booth grumbled, sipping the hot beverage experimentally.
"Is this decaf?" Brennan scowled.
"Yeah, you haven't really slept in days, Bones. I didn't think enabling your insomnia with caffeine would be a good idea."
"Fair point," she replied grudgingly. "I didn't see Angela yet."
"She's not up until this afternoon. If she shows up at all."
"I texted her this morning, but she didn't answer. I can't believe she's making such a big deal over this. Hodgins actually asked my permission to testify."
"No one really wants to do this, Bones. I'm not the only one who thinks it's wrong."
Before Brennan could reply, court was called back into session, and they took their seats again. Over the course of the morning, Brennan watched her friends take the stand and give their testimonies. Cam verified the DNA evidence, Zack identified a narrow copper pipe as the murder weapon, and Hodgins described the particulates that linked the seminary, Booth and Brennan's home, and the rooftop where Kirby's body was burned.
Zack's testimony was a little more difficult for Brennan than the others. She took note of how much her former student had changed over the years. He was no longer awkward and pedantic on the stand, and she couldn't help but be a little proud of him for his growth. She supposed that Iraq must have helped him to mature, but it seemed like more than that. He was composed and completely unflustered by the difficult questions. He spoke clearly with a firm tone, and he seemed far more confident than she was accustomed to see him in this type of setting.
Caroline used several images to support Zack's testimony, but the one that held Brennan's attention was that of Kirby's skull. He had been stabbed at the mastoid process, creating a wound almost identical to the one Booth had described on the body of Peter St. James. Brennan shuddered slightly at the thought of his name and forced herself to focus on the proceedings.
Booth was called to the stand immediately after lunch, and he squeezed her hand affectionately before he rose from his seat. Caroline guided him through a basic explanation of the events that eventually led to finding a pool of Kirby's blood in their home. In his mind's eye, he saw his wife kneeling on their kitchen floor, scrubbing feverishly and shining her blacklight over the area. He remembered the way she had trembled in his arms when they had thought that the blood might have belonged to Russ, and when he chanced a glance at her, he could see from her expression that her memories had taken her to the same place.
"Doctor Hodgins testified that particulates from the Our Lady of Angels Seminary were found in your home as well as on the rooftop of that hotel. He explained that someone had to have transferred those particulates from the seminary to both of the other locations. To your knowledge, was the defendant ever present at any of those locations?" Caroline inquired.
"He was at the seminary that day," Booth replied.
"Are you certain of that?"
"Yes, I saw him there."
"What was he doing?" she pressed. At this, Booth's eyes shifted to Brennan's face, and she could see his hesitation. The look she gave him in return was easily interpreted as a demand that he tell the truth.
"He was impersonating a priest," Booth admitted reluctantly. The jury made various noises of disapproval, trading glances amongst one another, and Max had the good sense to appear contrite.
"Thank you," Caroline nodded. Booth resisted the urge to glower at her. "Now, moving on to the murder weapon… Dr. Addy stated that he was convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that the copper pipe found amongst the victim's remains was the murder weapon. Is there any evidence at all tying the defendant to this weapon?"
"In 1966, Max Keenan was sent to Cook County Jail for robbery. He was attacked."
"Did he defend himself?"
"Yes."
"Successfully?"
"Yes." He saw Max turn back toward Brennan and Russ and insist that he'd never killed anyone with the pipe.
"Did he defend himself with this?" Caroline used a small remote to bring up an image of a thin copper pipe on the flat screen. It was nearly identical in size and shape to the pipe found on the hotel rooftop.
"Yes," Booth replied shortly. Caroline pursed her lips at his brevity, apparently not appreciating that he was going to make her work for it.
"What was the result of the attack?"
"Well, no one bothered Max again," he replied, slightly sarcastic.
"Anything else?"
"He had eight months added to his sentence."
"Anything else, Agent Booth," Caroline pressed, clearly frustrated.
"The sharpened pipe kind of became a trademark for him," Booth answered grudgingly. Caroline nodded and thanked him before dismissing him from the stand. When he returned to Brennan's side, she gave him her own nod of approval and took his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered. She merely shook her head and did her best to give him a smile of encouragement.
Angela had shown up for the afternoon session, but when Caroline directed her to the stand, she was no more forthcoming than she had been the day before. She flat out refused to answer any of the prosecutor's questions, in spite of Brennan practically shouting admonishments at her from the gallery. The team watched in shock as the judge declared her to be in contempt of court, and a bailiff led her from the room. The trial was called to another recess and scheduled to reconvene the following morning for the prosecution's final witness and the first of the cross-examinations.
"Is Angela allowed visitors?" Brennan asked her husband as they left the courtroom. "I have to go talk to Max and his lawyer right now, but if I stop to see Ange on the way home, will they let me in?"
"I'll make sure they do. Do you want me to come with you to the prison?" he offered.
"No thanks. I'm not sure how long it will take, and you wouldn't be allowed in the room for this meeting. I'll try to be home in a couple of hours though."
"Alright," he nodded, hoping that she wasn't trying to cover up any hurt feelings as a result of his testimony. "I'll make dinner, okay?" She smiled in appreciation and kissed his lips softly before walking toward her car.
In truth, Brennan wasn't at all upset by Booth's testimony. She could tell that he'd done his best not to give any more information than Caroline demanded from him. She'd seen him testify in dozens of trials, and by comparison, the difference in his demeanor was quite clear. If she'd been concealing anything from her husband, it was the fact that she felt exhausted and sick to her stomach. Even with Booth's lackluster performance on the stand, the rest of her team had presented the evidence in a clear and concise manner, and she didn't want to think about what that might mean for her father.
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When Brennan entered the visitation room, Max and Russ were both arguing with David Barron about the advisability of putting Max on the stand. Barron was absolutely against it, in spite of Max's willingness to testify on his own behalf. Brennan couldn't help but agree with his reasoning; it would be clear to just about anyone that both of Max's children thought he was guilty.
Russ volunteered to take the stand, but Barron wasn't sure whether he believed Russ was being truthful about what he saw or, in this case, didn't see. Russ insisted that he hadn't witnessed a murder that day, and Brennan supported him. She assured Barron that she could tell when Russ was lying and that he was indeed telling the truth.
Brennan had nearly always been able to tell when Russ was lying, even when they were kids. He'd been able to deceive her the day that he introduced their father to her as a priest, but she was confident in her assessment now. She'd spent more time with him, and Booth had taught her a few things about reading body language.
"A country full of unscrupulous lawyers, and you find the one guy with scruples?" Max said to his children after Barron had left the room. Russ gave his sister a sideways glance, concerned over how run-down she appeared.
"Dad, Tempe's pretty sure you killed that man, and I don't think she can see how you can wear that so lightly." Russ was feeling that way as well, if he were to be completely honest. While he understood Max's actions from a father's perspective, his father's attitude about the whole mess was rather disarming.
"Tempe," Max said gently. "I'm ashamed of a lot of things I've done in my life… But in this case, my conscience is clear."
"That's not the same as being innocent," she replied sadly. He gave a rueful nod, and a guard arrived at the door to escort him back to his cell.
Brennan replayed the exchange in her mind as she headed toward the facility where Angela was being held for contempt of court. She showed her ID and was led through several winding hallways until she reached a small cell. Angela smiled a bit sheepishly when she spotted her friend. To Brennan's surprise, the guard allowed her to sit inside the cell, locking them both in and warning her that he would return for her in fifteen minutes.
"Angela, please. Just go on the stand and say that you identified the victim," Brennan implored her.
"No."
"But I want you to. I promise that I won't be mad, no matter what the jury decides. You shouldn't be in here."
"No. Kirby was a son of a bitch, but he was FBI. Do you really think those guys aren't gunning for execution?"
"That's not up to me. Or to you, for that matter. That's up to the jury," Brennan insisted.
"That may be true, but I refuse to help them do it. The DNA identifies him as the victim. They don't really need my testimony other than to belabor the point, and I won't do it."
"That's… true, I guess," Brennan admitted, somewhat surprised by her friend's logic.
"Damn straight, it is. And even if it weren't, there's no way I'm going to add to your stress level by testifying against your father."
"I would be fine," she replied unconvincingly.
"Bren, you've been a complete mess for weeks, maybe longer. You actually fainted from the exhaustion the other day. No way in hell am I going to do anything to make matters worse," Angela said firmly. Brennan smiled at her friend and pulled her in for a tight hug.
"Thank you," she said quietly into Angela's dark hair. "I still think you should've just answered the question, but I appreciate your loyalty."
"Anytime, Sweetie. Though we probably shouldn't make a habit of this," she joked. Brennan chuckled a little.
"Agreed."
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Brennan was greeted by the scent of mushroom risotto when she walked through her door. She gave Booth a tired smile and kissed him in thanks. They ate quietly, and Booth could tell that she was distracted.
"How'd it go at the prison? And with Angela?" he asked quietly.
"Angela still refuses to testify," Brennan answered, pushing her food around on her plate. "She thinks that her testimony isn't really necessary anyway since the DNA was a match for Kirby, and that was identification enough."
"That's a good point. There really isn't anything she could prove that Cam hasn't already proven with her testimony," he agreed. "What about your dad?"
"He wants to take the stand; Barron says no. Russ is going to testify tomorrow though."
"Not you?"
"No, Barron thinks it's too obvious that I believe my dad is guilty," she replied, her tone implying disapproval. "He's probably right, I guess. My dad hasn't brought up the idea of me testifying since last fall."
"I think he probably felt guilty after he brought it up last time, Bones. He's got a lot of guilt where you're concerned." Brennan nodded thoughtfully, and her eyes became distant.
"He said that… He said he feels ashamed of a lot of things he's done in the past but that his 'conscience is clear.' I've been replaying his words in my mind since I left earlier, and I really don't know what to think. It felt like he was talking about more than just Kirby's death."
"I'm sure he was," Booth agreed. "When I talked to him at Christmas, he didn't seem to have any remorse to speak of, and I know he understood what I was referring to." Brennan sighed and forced herself to take another bite of her dinner.
"I haven't changed my mind about forgiving him for everything, but I can't help but feel like he should show just a little bit of remorse. Or does that contradict the fact that I've forgiven him? I'm so confused…"
"Hey," Booth reached across the table and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips in a gesture that he knew she found to be soothing. "Max has made his own choices in life, and now he's taking responsibility for them, one way or another. I think that he feels plenty of remorse for the things he's done, though maybe they're not the things society thinks he should feel sorry for. I know he's carrying a lot of guilt over the way things went for you after he and your mom left. I can't imagine how badly I'd feel if I were in his place. Those kinds of emotions aren't easily dealt with."
Brennan considered his words and found herself agreeing with his logic. If there was anything Booth understood more than anyone else she knew, it was guilt. If he could see regret and remorse in her father, then she trusted his judgment. As they cleaned up the kitchen and got ready for bed, Brennan was feeling more drained and exhausted than she'd ever felt. To her surprise as well as Booth's, she fell asleep quickly that evening. Booth was sure that she had simply reached the end of her capacity, and he held her close all night, praying that she would be granted a reprieve from her nightmares.
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Brennan woke the next morning with a new kind of resolve. She was determined to find a way to help Max. Although she had slept a little better than she'd expected, she was still suffering from the overload of stress. She was nauseated and shaky, even a little dizzy again. Conscious of her prior collapse in Angela's office, she made a halfhearted attempt to eat breakfast with Booth. After only a few bites, however, she pushed her plate aside.
"Bones, you really need to eat more. Going without food will only make you feel worse," Booth said gently.
"I tried, Booth. The last thing I need is to vomit during the hearing."
"Have you been throwing up?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.
"No, but I don't want to risk it."
He frowned as he watched her fill an insulated cup with water, noting that she was slightly unsteady on her feet. Skipping breakfast used to be a normal habit for her, but over the years, Booth had coaxed her into eating with him most mornings. He decided to back off for now, however, understanding that her anxiety was probably making her feel sick to her stomach.
"Okay," he relented. "But you're going to eat lunch. No arguments."
"Okay," she agreed. "I don't understand why I'm having so much trouble with this. It happened last fall too. I used to be able to manage just about any kind of stress without feeling like this. It makes me feel weak, and I hate it."
"Bones, you're not weak," Booth assured her, folding her into his chest. "It's completely normal to be this worked up and stressed out about everything, alright? You have to remember that you're not the same person you used to be."
"You mean the person I was before you came along?" she asked, gazing up at him with a weary smile.
"Well… yeah. You used to hide behind your proverbial walls so that nothing could touch you. When you made the decision to let me in and let me bring you outside of those walls, you made yourself vulnerable, but that's not a bad thing," he smiled. "You made yourself more human. You opened yourself up to more possibilities, to love, to happiness."
"I'm glad I did," she replied honestly. Brennan kissed his lips softly. "I wouldn't change things, even if I could. You were the first person who taught me that it was possible to feel safe and vulnerable at the same time. I'll always be grateful for that."
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"Why is Sweets testifying?" Brennan whispered to her husband as their former psychologist made his way to the stand.
"He did the psychological profile on Max. I didn't know until this morning."
Brennan frowned but nodded, recalling that they hadn't really seen much of Sweets lately. As she listened to him list his qualifications, her eyebrows inched higher and higher on her forehead. He had multiple doctorates from Columbia University and had been awarded two prestigious scholarships. His position at the FBI had apparently come about as a result of a book he'd published about psychological profiling. Brennan exchanged a look of surprise with Booth, but neither spoke.
"Dr. Sweets, did you compile a psychological profile of the defendant?" Caroline asked.
"Yes, over a series of meetings spanning over six months."
Six months? Brennan thought, her eyes widening slightly. Sweets had apparently been talking to her father since the previous November, months before he had offered to help her cope with her father's situation. She couldn't help but feel a little betrayed by that, and she found herself wondering about his motives. She understood, however, that as far as Max was concerned, Sweets was simply doing his job. Just like the rest of the team, apart from Angela.
"Is he capable of murder?"
"Most definitely," Sweets nodded. "In his own way, Max Keenan is a very impressive man."
"What do you mean 'in his own way?'"
"Well, Max Keenan doesn't adhere to an external ethics system."
"He does what he wants," Caroline translated.
"No. He does what he thinks is right, whether or not the rest of the world agrees. In another time, he could have been a great leader."
"You mean in a time when people conked each other over the head and lit them on fire as a way of getting what they want," Caroline replied sarcastically. Sweets answered in the affirmative. "Is Max Keenan dangerous?"
"When he feels his loved ones are threatened? Very dangerous."
"In your opinion, if Max Keenan felt that he or his family were threatened, could he do this?" She pointed her small remote at the flat screen again, and a photograph of Kirby's charred remains appeared.
"Indubitably."
"Without hesitation?" Caroline prompted.
"Without hesitation, without remorse… without guilt."
Sweets was dismissed from the stand at that point, but Brennan found herself replaying his words. 'Without hesitation, without remorse… without guilt.' As she watched Russ be sworn in next, she recalled her conversation with Booth from the previous evening and knew that Sweets was absolutely correct in his assessment. She also knew that she couldn't rationally hold his testimony against him. His job was to tell the truth, and that was exactly what he'd done.
Russ's testimony went poorly from a defense standpoint, and by the end of it, David Barron looked like he'd swallowed a mouthful of something bitter. Russ explained that he'd been at a job interview for a position as a mechanic on the evening in question. Brennan had been under the impression that the timing of the interview was due to the manager's limited availability, but Caroline saw things from another angle. When she asked how Russ got the interview in the first place, he hesitantly admitted that his father had arranged it. He tried to explain that the manager himself had apologized for requiring an evening interview, but Caroline quickly dismissed him from the stand.
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A lunch recess was called, and Booth was relieved that Brennan didn't argue about eating. They purchased their meals from a food stand near the courthouse and found a bench that was unoccupied. Brennan checked her phone for messages several times as they ate, and Booth quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Expecting a call?"
"Maybe. Clark went back to the lab to go over the evidence again. He said he'd let me know if he came up with anything useful," she explained. Booth nodded and started to reply, but he was interrupted by the appearance of Dr. Sweets. He seemed simultaneously nervous and excited.
"Yes?" Booth prompted him.
"I'm writing a book. Taking a clinical approach to efficacy and focused outcomes," Sweets began, fidgeting a little.
"And?"
"Well, if you're both agreeable, I'd like to study your partnership. It's an oddity of sorts, made even more complex by the fact that you're romantically involved. It shouldn't work, but it does. I want to figure out why."
"And write about it," Booth frowned thoughtfully.
"Yes."
"I don't get it," Booth said, addressing his wife.
"He wants to study us."
"Once a week, that's it," Sweets promised, but they were ignoring him.
"Now why would we want to do that?" Booth asked casually.
"I can't think of a good reason," Brennan smirked.
"Okay, see? That thing you do when you talk to each other while excluding the third party, namely me… It's an adaptive mechanism for disparate entities to bond together against their own individual impetuses to dissociate…" Sweets trailed off when he noticed their blank expressions.
"What does that mean for us?" Booth asked, once again focused on Brennan
"Nothing useful," she replied.
"Hmm… Tell you what, Bones. Why don't we make a deal with him where we allow him to study us, and in return, he gives us psychological profiling on demand."
"Okay," Sweets agreed eagerly.
"See? I just think he doesn't want to admit that he likes us," Booth grinned. Brennan smiled as well, finally turning to look at Sweets.
"Do you like us?" she teased.
"What?"
"And he wants to spend time with us," Booth added gloatingly.
"Is that true, Sweets? You like us?"
"No…"
"Even I can tell he's lying," Brennan said, grinning at her husband. She joined Booth in a sing-songy taunt, and Sweets' face reddened slightly.
"Very mature, guys," he rolled his eyes and shuffled away. Booth and Brennan chuckled for a few moments more before returning to their meals. Booth appreciated the opportunity to see his wife smile about anything, particularly on a day like today.
"Are we really going to let him write a book about us?" he asked his wife.
"It's not like it would be a bestseller," she shrugged. "It'll be an academic publication."
"So basically, no one will read it?"
"I might. They might use it as a teaching tool at the Bureau, but they've already used some of our cases for that purpose at Quantico. It wouldn't really be anything new. Sweets already does profiling for us though," she pointed out.
"Yeah, but it usually depends on his availability rather than our needs. This would make him a real part of the team. I think he needs that."
"Because he's lonely?"
"Yeah, but also because we can always use more help. He's good at what he does. Good in the interrogation room too. Maybe that means we'll solve more cases than we would without him. Save more lives," he said quietly, echoing her logic from a few nights ago.
Brennan agreed with the plan as well as his reasoning, and as they finished their lunch, they were interrupted by someone else. They watched as Clark practically leapt up the stone steps and ran toward them. He held up a jewel case containing a compact disc.
"Dr. Brennan," he greeted her breathlessly. "I found something."
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Barron's cross-examinations began with Zack, and to the surprise of many, Barron requested that Clark be permitted to handle the questioning in his place. Caroline objected but was overruled. Clark used the small remote to display a photograph of the victim's skull, which had been discolored by red food dye. It wasn't permanent and posed no risk to the bones, but the coloration did reveal microfractures that Zack had somehow missed. The pattern indicated that the murder weapon had had a hilt of some sort. The copper pipe that Zack had believed to be the murder weapon had no hilt.
Barron attempted to have the entire case thrown out on the grounds that the prosecution had failed to produce the actual murder weapon, but Caroline argued that they should be granted a little time to locate it. The judge signed a search warrant for Booth and Brennan's home, but he warned Caroline that if nothing was found, Max would be a free man that very evening.
Since Booth couldn't very well conduct a search of his own home, the task was delegated to Charlie, and the younger agent showed up with Zack only a few minutes after Booth and Brennan got home. As the two men moved through the house in search of the likely murder weapon, Booth coaxed his wife into the living room to sit down.
"You doing okay?" he asked cautiously, noting the weariness in her eyes. She gave a noncommittal shrug.
"When it looked like my father might go free, I got…" she faltered, uncertain of her words. "This is very confusing for me."
"You like the idea of him beating the murder charge," Booth replied. She nodded contritely.
"I didn't think he really had a chance to get out of this, and now I'm afraid to even hope for it. Not to mention the fact that you and I put murderers away, and here I am wanting my father to get away with it."
"Okay, look. You're not Dr. Temperance Brennan today. You're Temperance. Tempe. Max's daughter. It's okay to want your father to come home instead of going to prison. The scientist part of you got sidelined...temporarily."
"I don't know what that means," she admitted, and he smiled as he always did at the familiar phrase.
"Bones, just… Take the brain, and put it in neutral, okay? Take the heart, and pop it into overdrive." He imitated a racecar driver accelerating loudly, and Brennan laughed at his antics. Booth felt a rush of warmth at the sound. He would never hesitate to make a fool out of himself if it meant making her laugh like that.
"Sometimes I think you're from another planet," she teased, still laughing.
"Just don't tell Hodgins," he grinned. They chuckled for a few moments longer, and Booth moved to sit next to her on the sofa, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You have nothing to feel guilty about, baby. I'm an FBI agent, and I feel the same way about Max beating the rap. What's that say about me?"
Before Brennan could reply, Zack entered the room holding up a small dagger that was congruent with the murder weapon. It was a medieval dagger that had been on one of their shelves since they'd first moved in. Booth had constructed shelves in the living room and dining room to hold her extensive library as well as the collection of artifacts she'd previously displayed in her apartment. In fact, the available wall space in both rooms had been one of the reasons they'd chosen that particular house. Booth's cherished possessions were displayed throughout the house as well, but that hadn't been as important to him. He'd wanted it to feel like home for her.
"I don't remember ever seeing that dagger out of place," Brennan mused aloud as they drove back to the courthouse. "Do you?"
"No. Though to be honest, I'm not sure I would've noticed. Besides, there was a lot going on at that point."
"True. I can't believe it was right there in our house the whole time…" Brennan felt repulsed by the idea, much as she had felt in the days following Max's disappearance when she had scrubbed the kitchen floor repeatedly.
The rest of the day in court went similarly to the first day. Zack and Cam confirmed that the dagger was the actual murder weapon, and the defense was scheduled to start the proceedings for the following day. Brennan decided to bring Chinese takeout to the prison for dinner that evening, and Booth assured her that he wouldn't mind her absence. He opted to spend a few hours at the office, attempting to make some headway on the paperwork that had been piling up on his desk.
Brennan was only slightly surprised to see Clark in the visitation room along with her father, brother, and Barron. Her colleague looked nearly as disappointed as Brennan felt.
"Maybe I can discredit the weapon," Clark suggested, but the attorney was shaking his head.
"We're past forensics now. Now it's about the story. Jurors like to think they know what happened. We did a good job in showing that maybe Max didn't commit this murder, but we didn't give the jury a satisfying alternative. One that lets them go home to their families and say, 'Here's what really happened.'"
"They need a boogeyman, and it's Dad," Russ said irritably. Max gave his children a sad smile.
"Well, at least you guys will always know where to find me."
"What do you mean? On death row?" Russ asked incredulously, practically shouting. "You should have… You should have run, Dad. You should have just taken off."
"Dad stayed for me," Brennan defended. "He knew that if he ran, we'd never see each other again." She turned to Max, the full truth of her own words overwhelming her. "You stayed for me."
"I would've stayed here forever," Max nodded, his eyes misty. "It was worth every second we had together."
Brennan could see the sincerity in his features and hear it in his voice. This wasn't the smiling con man she could never bring herself to trust. This was her father. This was the man who had raised her, who'd taught her, who'd nurtured her… As the others continued to trade ideas and commiserations, Brennan found herself remembering the moments she'd had with Max since he had returned. Granted, at first she'd had no idea that he was keeping an eye on her, but he had helped Booth save her from Peter. He'd kept her safe from Delaney and Kirby. Even the few hours she'd spent with him while believing he was a priest…
Her train of thought derailed suddenly as she recalled the events of that very long day, but the scientist part of her brain was speeding ahead. Booth had told her to use her heart rather than her brain, but maybe she could help her father by using both.
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So, poor Brennan isn't coping so well, but things will get better of course. Off topic sort of, but does anyone know if that little song they sang at Sweets was scripted? It seems like a very random, David-and-Emily type of thing. Like the 'fan questions' thing at CC this year. That was hilarious. If you haven't seen it, you've gotta check it out. I'm sure there's a youtube video.
Review because 'you liiiiike me, you really liiiike me.' ;)