Tis the season to be canning. I have spent almost as much time juicing and canning tomatoes this week as I have writing. That project is done for the year at least so I can get back to this little arc. Disclaimer: my husband didn't like this chapter as much as some previous ones but he couldn't tell me or pinpoint why. Maybe some of you have ideas. I'm not afraid to hear them.
December 2014
Arriving back at the J. Edgar Hoover building after a successful arrest, Booth grabbed a stale cup of coffee from the fourth floor break room and made his way back to his desk. Taking a satisfied seat at his desk, he rolled up his sleeves not unwilling to complete the necessary paperwork.
Logging onto his computer, his e-mail flashed sixteen new e-mails. Scanning the list, most of the messages could be ignored for the time being. One red flag drew his immediate attention and put his paperwork on hold. Reading quickly, he rose and strode out of the bullpen carrying his coffee toward his favorite prosecutor's office.
The agent stuck his head in the door enquiring, "You wanted to see me, Caroline?"
The attorney held out a finger making him pause. She had the phone to her ear so she pointed to a chair indicating she wanted him to sit while she finished her conversation, "Yes, sir. I understand."
He sat and lifted his chin curiously. Caroline was only this polite to judges and their clerks. Glad he had come when he did, he was eager to be the first to hear whatever news she was receiving.
"Thank you for calling." Caroline hung up soon after equally as eager to share. "That was Judge Cohen's office. Good news cher, Myles Hasty has decided to take a last minute plea deal." She leaned back in her chair, a smug smile teasing her lips. "Took his team long enough to figure out the evidence was indisputable."
"Oh." Booth's eyes flicked to the floor momentarily, then settled for staring at the corner of Caroline's desk, cradling his mug between both hands.
"Oh? That's all you've got to say? This is good news. Put a smile on that fine face of yours."
Here, Booth made eye contact, but still did not smile as Caroline continued leaning forward, "Or do you get some sick pleasure watching me work harder than I have to? Not that his was going to be a difficult case."
"No… it's good news." He forced a tight-lipped smile to pacify Caroline and took a sip of coffee while she eyed him analytically.
"You e-mailed, wanted to see me?" he reminded her. Anything to get her to stop looking at him so suspiciously.
"Oh no. Don't you go trying to distract me. Now I'm curious why exactly you're so disappointed there won't be a trial. I know sitting on the witness stand is not your favorite part of the job." She squinted at him as he squirmed under her gaze. Her morning spent on witness interviews, she was quick to guess. "I hope this doesn't have anything to do with hoping to see a certain scientist at the trial. Like maybe that bones woman you were so low about last summer?"
Booth's defensive reflexes shot up, "We worked together once!"
"Mmhmm." She read through him instantly. "That woman is definitely an asset for catching arrogant criminals, but if you have other ideas for her, besides professionally, I'm going to warn you, she is bad news." Caroline crossed her arms defiantly.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He licked his lips subconsciously and took another drink to mask his discomfort.
"Don't try to pull that with me Seeley Booth. You know exactly what I mean. That lady doctor has got way too much emotional baggage."
"Baggage?" His eyebrows raised before fixing his features to be neutral. "Everyone has some."
She quirked an eyebrow, prompting Booth to probe a little too eagerly, "What do you know?"
She gave him a pointed look, replying, "Only that she is cold as a fish and too rational for her own good."
"That's a little harsh." He tried to forget he had called her as much not too long ago himself.
"Not my words." She glared at him knowingly as he winced. "You'd understand more if you had bothered to check into her background."
Properly humbled for the moment, Booth asked more gently, "What about it?"
Sighing at the sad story, Caroline stood as she recounted, "Her parents abandoned her when she was fifteen and haven't been heard from since. Can you imagine being in the midst of adolescence and suddenly your parents disappear?"
"Booth sunk back in his chair rubbing his jaw, absorbing this new information. Incredulous, he managed to sputter, "Both her parents? At the same time?" He chastised himself internally at the dumb question. He thought he'd had a bad childhood but at least he'd always had Pops and Jared.
Caroline pulled a file out of her desk drawer and waved it teasingly in the air.
Booth set his mug down and reached out. "Why do you have this? You researching Bones or something?"
"Until ten minutes ago, I was about to prosecute a case without knowing anything about my lead forensic witness. Of course I looked her up, I'm no dummy." She slapped the folder into his outstretched hand. "I'm just surprised you didn't."
Booth ignored the attorney and flipped the missing person file open. Glancing through the few photographs, his eyes stopped longer than necessary on a picture of a young gap-toothed Temperance Brennan, jovial and care-free. He began skimming the summaries as quickly as he could. "Wait, she has a brother?"
"Russ, though he was an adult already when they vanished. I looked him up, too. He's got his own petty rap sheet." Caroline walked around and sat on the chair next to the agent while he continued his perusal. "Like I said, she's got considerable baggage. I'd think twice before searching her out."
"How did you get this?" Another dumb question. Where was his head this afternoon?
"That's her copy. She had it sent over after our meeting this morning."
The agent froze. He looked like he was reading, but his eyes didn't see the words. Internally, he was cursing his missed opportunity to run into her. He would have been able to ask her face-to-face to look over evidence on his next case. Any excuse to work with her again. If only…
"I've requested an official copy internally but the case is old enough, it isn't available electronically," Caroline continued on, thankfully unaware of his distracted thoughts.
Off topic, he announced, "She could be beneficial to my career, Caroline, whatever her background."
"No doubt." She looked at him with pity.
He finally looked up unaware of her musings and asked, "Can I take this with me?" He wanted to find her parents for her. She'd have to forgive him then.
Sorry cher, not your case, plus I have to give it back to Dr. Brennan as soon as my copy comes." She held her hand out to take the file back. "As far as I'm concerned, you never even saw this. You have no idea who her parents are. I just thought you'd like to know."
Booth nodded in understanding as he rose. Caroline was right, he didn't have the jurisdiction. "Thanks. I'm assuming that is what you wanted me for."
"No, I called you for our same old pretrial interview. Moot point after that phone call though." She turned back to the paperwork spread across her desk.
Picking up his near empty mug, a worried smile touched Booth's lips as he strolled thoughtfully back to the breakroom for a refill.
No wonder she's so independent and unconnected. If that's what you're used to. Mom and dad disappear… He froze at his sudden realization: yes, she had been angry with him for putting his hands on her to pull her from the room while talking to Gemma's mother, but she had also been angry with him in the parking garage right before he had arrested Myles Hasty. It wasn't until he'd made the sneer comment about fathers that her eyes had turned from fire to ice in an instant and left him standing alone.
He knew he needed her, be it professionally, as friends or something more, his gut told him so. Spying her for a few scant seconds at the Jeffersonian fundraiser had confirmed it for him. But if she was used to being a loner, this was going to be even harder than he originally thought.
When Caroline had invited her to meet at her office to review testimony, Brennan was ready. She was partly eager to be called upon for her expertise in a courtroom, but more so just in case Booth called about the trial again: she wouldn't have to lie about working directly with the prosecutor. Strangely, after so many months of polite but on-going phone messages, she was relieved that he had gone radio silent after their brief, but terse conversation the night of the Jeffersonian fundraiser.
Light flurries fell as she stepped on the sidewalk outside the FBI headquarters. Statistically speaking, the chances of running into Booth were extremely low. The Hoover building had hundreds of people working within its walls. Still, her unease at the idea of seeing him kept her on high alert to the people all around her.
Stopping in the lobby briefly for a visitor badge and directions to Ms. Julian's office, Brennan continued to the fourth floor, turning left out of the elevator bank and straight down a hall past a pack of desks sitting in the open. She noted the name on the glass door at the far end of the hall and let herself in, startling the woman sitting at the desk.
"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" a ruffled Caroline chastised the scientist. Brennan's abrupt entrance had caught her in in the middle of reviewing a confidential file. Quickly throwing it in her desk drawer, she demanded, "How would you like it if I just waltzed into your office?"
Without malice or offense Brennan admitted, "My door is kept open. I find it more efficient when people need to speak to me than knocking. Besides, even if it were closed, my door, like yours, is made of glass so it is possible to see who is coming before the door is opened." She set her satchel down on the floor, peeled her wool coat off and laid it with her other winter things on the second seat near the desk.
"Well I prefer it when my visitors knock!" The attorney was riled up having taken Brennan's words as provocation.
"Even when you're expecting them?" Dr. Brennan was genuinely confused as she took a seat. "I thought the front desk called you to tell you I was on my way up."
Seeing she had misinterpreted her visitor's meaning, Caroline pursed her lips and decided to let it slide. "Let's get straight down to business, shall we? Have you ever testified in court before?"
"Yes, as an expert witness. However, never as the lead forensic."
"Good. So you at least understand the basics of how you are called to the stand, the swearing in process, etcetera?"
"Yes. I assumed you wanted to go over the evidence again; what you want me to say on the stand." Brennan leaned over to take files out of her satchel but was stopped by the attorney's next words.
"I'm not concerned about the science-y stuff. You and your team at the Jeffersonian have that nicely tied up with a pretty little bow for me. Besides, it would be highly unethical of me to tell you what to say on the stand. As long as you say what's in the files you gave me."
"The evidence is all fact. I would be lying under oath to dispute the facts.
Caroline stared. Normally, her science experts refused to answer in black and white terms, yet here sat one who didn't accept any gray.
Brennan's shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under her gaze and unsure of the purpose of her presence now that she understood science was not in question. "So why did you ask me to come?"
"I need to know more about you." Caroline reclined in her seat to observe the scientist.
"You could read my FBI consultant file for that."
"Now that is just too logical," she mocked scornfully.
"It's my job to be rational." The sarcasm of Caroline's statement was lost on Brennan.
The attorney folded her hands on her desk and leaned forward. "Give me a little credit, doctor. I did my homework before calling you all the way here. It told me you are a forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian. It lists your degrees and awards and tells me what languages you speak. It told me every foreign nation you have worked in and what the purpose of each of those jobs was. But it does not tell me who you are. Your background. Your personal side."
"I don't know what my personal life has to do with anything."
"It matters," Caroline quarreled, "because defense attorneys usually like to play dirty and discount the testimony of a witness using any means necessary, especially when the evidence is as damning as it is in this one. They will know more about you than you know about yourself."
"I don't know what that means."
Knowing it would push buttons, the attorney adopted a laid back tone as she suggested, "I could ask Agent Booth, but…"
"According to Agent Booth, I am cold fish who makes other people feel stupid," Brennan cut in hotly. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and mumbled under her breath, "Not my fault if he is stupid."
Caroline's mood was soured. She did not know how to get through to this woman. She had tried to let misunderstandings slide, but she was not going to sit and let this scientist woman insult her favorite agent.
"You listen to me, Dr. Brennan. If there's anything, anything the defense could use to discount your testimony – misdemeanors thrown off your record, crazies in your family, strange boyfriends, anything out of the ordinary – I need to know about it now so I am not taken by surprise if they dig it up while you're on the stand."
Brennan's jaw tensed, engaging the attorney in a staring contest. The other woman's face was stone and her eyes were impassioned.
Brennan took a calming breath, knowing she had no choice and broke the silence speaking clinically. "Matthew and Christine Brennan. My parents. They abandoned me when I was fifteen and I ended up in foster care. Their missing person files can tell you anything you need to know. The only other family I have is a brother, Russ, but I haven't seen him or talked to him since shortly after then either. My boyfriend is a physicist at the University." She hated the pit feeling in her stomach she got every time she was forced to talk about her family.
Caroline's demeanor softened as Dr. Brennan continued with more confidence as she gathered her things, "My work is my life. If my expertise can't speak for itself on the stand, that's the jury's problem. I will courier over my copy of the missing person file when I get back to my office though I will need it back when you're finished with it."
The attorney used to having the final word was left speechless as the other exited her office.
On the ground floor of the Hoover building, Brennan stepped out of the elevator bank and pulled her cell phone out. The memory of her family gnawing at her psyche, she needed to work it out of her system. She needed a distraction.
"Hi Pete, It's me. I'm going to have to cancel our plans tonight. I'm going to be working late."