A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 6
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but if anyone wishes to give them to me for Christmas I wouldn't mind.
Author's notes: Inspiration has struck so I decided to update twice in one day! Thanks again for reading and reviewing.
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Stirring the contents of the two sugar packets into his coffee, Booth waited patiently in front of the fax machine in the common quarters of the FBI building. Sheriff Fife had promised to fax the information on Ronald and Katherine Thompson at 10:30 that morning. By the time the clock read 10:55, Booth began to wonder if Fife even knew how to work a fax machine. He was startled when the machine began to pull paper through the printer, nearly spilling his coffee.
Placing his Steelers mug to the side, Booth grabbed the sheets spewing from the machine only to find every word illegible and smeared.
"Oh come on!" He crumpled the papers into a ball and threw them across the room in frustration, missing the trash can completely.
"I'm guessing that basketball was not your sport in high school or college," Cullen smirked slightly as he stood in the doorway.
Booth's face reddened slightly as he walked over, picked up the papers and placed them in the trash can. "Sorry sir…I'm just a little…"
"Frustrated? So I gathered. Was that information for the case I assigned to you and Dr. Brennan?" Cullen walked over to the coffee machine and poured the remaining liquid into a small styrofoam cup.
"Yes it was but it was completely illegible. Bones and I will just have to stop by the sheriff's office…if Angela's sketches match up to the photographs the sheriff emailed of the possible victims of course." Booth picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. Finding the beverage tepid, he made a face and poured the remaining contents into the nearby sink.
Cullen watched the agent carefully for a moment. "Speaking of Dr. Brennan, the Chicago field office called this morning. They are exhuming the remains of Jacob Curry this afternoon. He should be at the Jeffersonian by tomorrow morning."
Booth's face brightened considerably at the news. "That's great sir. Thank you so much for your help. I can't believe how quickly you cut through the red tape…"
Cullen put his hand up to stop Booth from making any further comments. "I called in a few favors. Let's leave it at that." He made a face at the cup in his hand before pouring the coffee into the sink as Booth had done moments before. "This coffee is really bad."
Cullen turned to leave but was stopped by Booth's voice. "Sir, I really do appreciate your help."
Turning slightly to face Booth, Cullen sighed. "I didn't do it for you Booth. Dr. Brennan was instrumental in helping me find out why my daughter," Cullen paused as his voice hitched for a second, "was dying of cancer. She gave Amy and my family answers and she helped to save quite a few lives in the process…even if she couldn't save Amy's. The very least I could do is help Dr. Brennan find some answers of her own."
He quickly turned away and walked out of the room, leaving Booth in a solemn silence.
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Angela had waited in her office most of the morning for the skulls of the murder victims to arrive. She had worked on a few personal projects that she was considering displaying at a local art house and had moved on to a game of computer solitaire after lunch before Zach finally delivered the skulls. She was deep in concentration when Booth appeared in her office, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically.
"You're going to have another face to work on tomorrow," he announced happily.
"Are you planning on killing someone? Because if you are, you are way too happy about it." Angela smirked as she looked up from her desk where she was sketching a face for one of the victims.
"Jacob Curry's remains will be here in the morning."
"Wha…? Seriously? Oh my god, Booth." Angela jumped out of her seat and quickly maneuvered around her desk to stand in front of the handsome agent. "Have you told Brennan yet?"
"Uh, no…not yet." The enthusiasm evaporated from Booth's aura at the mention of Brennan.
Confusion crept into Angela's features. "Why not?"
Booth shrugged and then lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of Angela's desk. "I don't know. She seems a little…" He struggled to find the correct adjective.
"Yeah, I know. It's hard to describe but yeah, I get it." Angela took a seat in the chair beside him and sighed. "You're going to have to tell her about this. Can you imagine if those remains come in and she's not been informed?"
"My head will be on a shelf next to William's," Booth muttered to himself. He groaned as he pushed himself out of the chair, not relishing his trip to Brennan's office.
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Splitting one of the small tablets in half, Brennan quickly downed the medication with a cup of water. She had taken a short lunch break and filled the prescription that Dr. Seats had given to her. Brennan had decided to succumb to the doctor's advice about the medicine after her bout with a small attack in front of Booth that morning.
She knew that he had seen her holding on to the sides of the examination table before he left—he just hadn't realized that she was grappling with a wave of panic that had flooded her senses after their brief discussions of the Thompsons. Brennan was glad that he had left without confronting her, allowing her to pull herself together before Hodgins and Zach had arrived.
Her head swiveled toward the knock on her office door to find Booth standing in the doorway, looking apprehensive.
"Hey Bones," he said as he strolled into the office. "You have a minute?"
Brennan stared at her partner, trying to read his body language. He was tense, that much was certain, but beyond that Brennan couldn't decipher his mood. She did know that whatever they were about to discuss was not going to be pleasant since Booth never asked if she had time for anything.
"I'm taking your silence as a yes." He sat down across from her and cleared his throat. "You know that I've continued to work on your parents' case since…" Booth's voice faltered as Brennan nodded. "Anyway, um…I've been trying to get the remains of your grandfath…Jacob Curry…exhumed as you know."
Again Brennan nodded. She knew that the exhumation had been tied up but she gave Booth credit for trying.
"So…um, Cullen managed to pull a few strings and the body will be here tomorrow morning." Exhaling a long breath, Booth sat and waited for her reaction.
The inner turmoil in Brennan fired up again—they would have another piece of the puzzle to assist in finding her father but the probability that they would uncover more hurtful lies and secrets was also present. Brennan pushed down the feelings that were rising in her chest and stared at Booth, presenting a calm, impassive exterior…or at least she hoped.
"Okay…good. We can hopefully discover his real identity and see where that leads us, right?" She was proud of the fact that her voice had not quivered. It was surprising considering the physiological upheaval she felt at the moment.
"Uh, yes…" Booth sat in silent surprise at how well she had received the news given her bad mood as of late.
Brennan tossed a file across her desk toward Booth. "Preliminary examinations of the remains on John and Jane Doe indicate that both victims suffered several gunshot wounds. I anticipate having Hodgins' report on the particulates and fibers he located tomorrow."
He realized that there would be no further discussion of Jacob Curry for the day. They were back to business as usual. He recognized the technique as Brennan's only means of coping with the situation and accepted it. Booth nodded as he opened the file and perused the information. "Any idea on the type of gun?"
"It's difficult to say. The victims were shot in the chest area but the bullets did not actually penetrate the center of the sternum. The left side of the sternum and the costal cartilages of two of the ribs around the heart area were struck by the bullets as well as a couple of the ribs themselves," Brennan stated the facts in a detached tone of voice.
"But if you had to guess…," Booth pressed.
She sighed. "If I had to guess I would say the weapon was a 9mm handgun but a more thorough examination may indicate a different caliber weapon."
"Hmmm…"
She sighed again as she watched him look over the findings. "Yeah, I know…not very helpful. 9mm handguns are fairly common."
"The guy went straight for the heart shot," Booth mumbled to himself. He glanced up to find Brennan staring at him. "It's not an execution style type of death," he explained. "You know, down on their knees…shot in the back of the head…."
"So what is a 'heart shot' indicative of?" While Brennan didn't really like conjecture in cases, she still found herself amazed at Booth's insight and thought process. What ultimately amazed her even more was how often her partner's "gut instincts" proved accurate.
Booth shrugged slightly. "The killer wanted them to see it coming…wanted them to know their time was up."
Brennan nodded. "Interesting."
"Wanna know what's even more interesting?" Angela questioned as she walked into the office carrying two sketch pads.
Smiling slightly, Brennan turned her chair toward Angela. "What would that be Ange?"
"It's just plain scary how efficient I am sometimes."
Brennan looked from Angela to Booth and back to her best friend. "That really wasn't more interesting than Booth's observations…"
Rolling her eyes, Angela sighed. "I should have announced that I finished the faces of our victims and been done with it." She turned both of the sketch pads around to show them her renderings.
Booth rifled through his file and extracted the photographs of Ronald and Katherine Thompson that the sheriff had emailed. "Damn you're good Angela."
"Yeah, that's not the first time I've heard that," she stated proudly and with a hint of innuendo.
Booth turned one of the photos around and showed it to Brennan. She gazed at the dark haired couple in the photograph. They were happy, smiling and obviously laughing while attending a birthday party when the photographer snapped the picture.
"It's Ronald and Katherine Thompson," he said softly.
Brennan simply nodded as a feeling of nausea settled in the pit of her stomach.
