6.5x20: The Thrill in the Victory by NatesMama and Squinttoyou
"Please state your full name and designation for the record."
"FBI Special Agent Seeley Joseph Booth, SSA."
"Thank you. This is FBI Special Agent David Mills, Internal Affairs Division, today is Tuesday, May 29, 2011 and I am conducting the debrief of SSA Seeley Booth. Also present are Special Agent William Somerset, IAD, and FBI Certified Court Reporter Michelle Dailey." Agent Mills cleared his throat before nodding towards a stoic Booth sitting at the opposite side of the table. "Agent Booth, would you please recount, to the best of your ability, the events of May 25, 2011?"
Booth swallowed thickly and looked up at the ceiling of the conference room as if trying to remember where to start. The truth of the matter was, he could recall every single thing that had happened since Hodgins had figured out who the man they had taken to calling Creeps McGee really was. It was impossible for Booth to stop the visuals from running through his head, over and over, like a sick replay of a really bad horror movie.
"While my team and I were in Michigan for the memorial service for Dr. Zack Addy, Dr. Jack Hodgins discovered evidence in Dr. Addy's journals that led him to the identity of the serial killer we had been tracking since the murder of Alice Fernley."
"And that man was Wallace Benjamin Fitz?"
"Yes." Booth was secretly relieved he didn't have to say the man's name.
"How was he apprehended?"
"He wasn't." Booth shook his head, disbelieving still. "He just…showed up at the Hoover and turned himself in."
Agent Mills tipped his head sideways. "He just walked in the front door?"
"Apparently so." Booth didn't elaborate.
"You don't seem too upset about that, Agent Booth."
Booth released a humorless laugh. "My job would be a hell of a lot easier if every suspect just waltzed through the front doors, so…no. I'm not the least bit upset."
Mills looked to his partner, indicating that Somerset should take over the interview. The agents shared a bit of visual shorthand, a trick that told Booth the two IA agents had been partners for a very long time.
"Agent Booth, where were you when Mr. Fitz showed himself at FBI headquarters?"
Booth smiled. "I was at home."
"Your home?"
"My apartment, yes."
"Alone?"
"I don't believe that is any of your business."
Somerset shook his head. "Agent Booth, if you are not going to cooperate…"
Booth sat forward, palms flat on the table top. "I am cooperating fully. And I am more than happy to tell you, step-by-step, what happened in that interrogation room, and whatever else is important to this review. But my personal life doesn't relate to the incident, and it's off limits. End of discussion." He leaned back again, arms crossed defensively across his chest.
"When the interrogation began, who was in the observation room?"
Booth, thrown by the abrupt change in topic, took a moment to respond. "Dr. Lance Sweets and Special Agent Claudia Turner, both of whom assisted in the investigation in tandem with the Jeffersonian."
"And where was your partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan?"
Booth hid another smile. "Dr. Brennan was at the Jeffersonian, with the rest of our team, assembling the evidence we had collected in relation to the serial killings we now know were committed by the suspect."
"And were you wearing an earpiece?"
"No, I was not."
"Why?"
"Because…" Booth sighed inwardly. "I like to go into the room alone, get a feel for the suspect. I can watch their eyes, their movements, listen to their voice. It helps me to see if they're being honest. I need that internal evaluation for myself, before I have someone else buzzing in my ear."
Agent Somerset made a noncommittal noise as he shuffled some papers. "And did you get a response of any kind from Mr. Fitz?"
"Not at first, no."
Agent Mills chimed in. "What was his demeanor?"
Booth finally uncrossed his arms and sat up. "He was a pain in the ass, if I'm being honest. For the first hour, he didn't do much more than sit there, across the table and stare."
"Much more? So he did speak?"
"Not so much."
"What did he say, Agent Booth?" Mills asked.
Booth shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable. "He, uh…said that I was not intelligent enough to interrogate him."
Both agents nodded. "And how did you respond?"
"I didn't. I ignored his comments and continued the interrogation."
The question and very-short-answer dance continued for over an hour, the frustration from the IA agents more than matching Booth's irritation as they volleyed back and forth. Finally deciding that a break was in order, Agent Mills offered to get Booth something to drink and was turned down with a silent head shake, and both IA investigators moved to leave and give Booth some time to regroup.
When he was finally alone, Booth leaned back in his seat and rubbed his hands across his face, trying to find some clarity. The entire situation, from the moment Fitz walked into the vestibule at the Hoover, right up until Booth walked out of the interrogation room following a sheet-covered gurney had been nothing but a tangled mess. Knowing that what happened wasn't his fault hadn't been able to wash away the bitter, metallic taste of utter failure that he had been trying to get rid of for days.
"You know, I have all day here. Nowhere to go, nothing to do…so you can just sit there, if you want" Booth leaned back and bracketed his hands behind his head. He hid the annoyance he was feeling at his complete lack of response from Fitz and smiled charmingly. "Can I get you anything? Water? Sandwich? Breath mint?"
Fitz returned Booth's smile, but with a slight glint of malice to it. "Actually, Agent Booth…you can tell me about your partner."
Booth's grin slipped slightly. "My partner is busy cataloguing the evidence to put you away for a very long time."
"Oh, I highly doubt that." He linked his fingers together and rested them on his stomach, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "There isn't any evidence to be had. Although…"
"Although…?" Booth prompted.
Fitz sighed dramatically. "If anyone could find evidence, not that there is any, it would be your brilliant…partner." His eyebrows rose on the last word, implication clear and hanging between the two men like a palpable fog.
"She is brilliant. But we're not here-"
"So maybe you can tell me what on Earth such an accomplished, brilliant, intelligent, cultured woman is doing with a meathead cop like you." Fitz watched with amusement as Booth poorly covered his scowl. "I mean, really…judging by the bored-as-sin look on your face during the lecture on human osteology and funerary archaeology you attended with Dr. Brennan last weekend at American."
"You were stalking us?" Booth stood and pushed his chair back roughly, unconcerned when it slammed against the wall behind him.
The other man didn't so much as twitch at Booth's sudden anger. "Not at all, it was simply a coincidence that you both happened to be at the same lecture I was attending."
"A coincidence."
"Of course. Why else would I have been there?"
"That's one hell of a coincidence."
"You keep saying that, Agent Booth. Do you not understand the meaning of the word, or are you simply confused as to the correct grammatical usage?"
Booth ground his teeth, jaw locked tight. He turned and faced the observation mirror, taking slow, deep breaths to get himself under control. In fifteen years of being an FBI agent, he couldn't remember another suspect that could find and push all the exact right buttons that would set him off with such ease. He could see Fitz in the mirror's reflection, smirking at his back, and he took one more cleansing breath before turning back around.
"So, Fitz…did you stalk all of your victims? Or did you just follow us because you were slipping and you knew we were getting close to catching you?" The chuckle that followed caused Booth to dig his nails into his palm to prevent him from doing something stupid he knew he would regret.
"Agent Booth, I explained, very clearly, that I was simply attending a lecture. Nothing more. I don't know how I can possibly explain it any clearer." He shook his head in mock regret. "Would you like me to speak slower? Or, better yet, bring that beautiful partner of yours in here and I'll have her translate for you."
Booth slammed his palms down on the table, once again drawing no reaction from Fitz. "You need to be careful what you say, Fitz. Very careful."
"Oh, Agent Booth…I assure you I am always very careful." He smiled. "I'm sure, if I ever leave this room, I could show your Dr. Brennan just how very careful I can be."
Booth was pulled from his reverie by the sound of Agent Mills throwing a file onto the table with a smack. "Have some time to get your thoughts together, Agent Booth?"
"No reason to, Agent Mills. You ask the questions, I answer them. Nothing complicated about that."
Mills smiled. "Good to know you understand the concept." He cleared his throat and looked down at his notes. "So, you stated earlier than Dr. Brennan was at the Jeffersonian when the suspect was being interrogated. Is that unusual, not having your partner in the room with you?"
"Not at all."
"Was this by her choice, or by yours?"
"We agreed that it was more important for her to be with her people, gathering the evidence to put Fitz away if we couldn't get a confession." An uncomfortable feeling bubbled up from the pit of his stomach at the current line of questioning, a feeling reinforced as the questions about Brennan continued.
"And the fact that the two of you were engaged in a sexual relationship didn't have anything to do with…oh, let's call it the 'separation of church and state'?"
"No."
The agent waited for Booth to elaborate, and when nothing else was forthcoming, he pressed forward. "Were your superiors aware that you were sleeping with your partner?"
"Yes."
"And they were alright with that…development?"
"Apparently."
Mills sighed. "Alright. So, after Mr. Fitz insinuated that your partner was more welcome in the room than you, you chose not to bring her in? Even though you were getting nowhere with him?"
Booth leaned forward. "I explained what my reasoning was, at the time. Dr. Brennan was doing her job at the lab."
"But you did decide that you needed assistance with the interrogation."
"Not…assistance, exactly. Another perspective."
Eyebrows raised, Mills leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled over his chest. "And from whom did you decide to get that perspective?"
"Special Agent Claudia Turner."
B&B
Booth ran a hand through his hair and looked around the bar, inwardly amazed that the other patrons looked so carefree and happy when everything around him was in such disarray. He glanced down into his drink, having lost count two drinks ago, and contemplated the events of the last week. From the moment Brennan had received the phone call about Zack, until the second Booth himself walked out of Interrogation Room Four, much of what happened was a blur. A painful, frustrating, gut twisting blur.
He gestured to the bartender for a refill on his scotch, and returned the drink offering with a tight smile. As he took a sip and let the smokiness of the liquor slide over his tongue, he continued to think back on what he could have possibly done differently, all the while hearing Bones in his head telling him that his insistence on reliving the incident over and over again served no logical purpose. Any other day or time, having Bones in his head would be a comfort, but this time her calm, rational voice only made him realize just how completely irrational and illogical the situation had become. And for someone like Booth, who needed complete control in order to function (and he ignored the fact that he gave Bones a hard time for having that exact same trait), the feeling of not being able to get a handle on what had happened was akin to jumping out of an airplane without a parachute. With a resigned sigh, Booth drained his drink and once again signaled the bartender, this time asking for
a glass of water. He was already half in the bag as it was, and if he had any chance at all of moving
forward at this point, getting hammered was the last thing he needed to do. If anything, he knew he
needed to be clear-headed…not for himself, but for the rest of the team.
Time after time, year after year, fate had kept handing their tight-knit group one test after another.
Tests of their individual strength, tests of their belief in each other, tests of faith in their team as a whole.
And each time, they had risen to the occasion and had come out even stronger on the other side.
And no matter what he had to do or say or sacrifice of himself, Booth was determined that this would not be the one thing that finally broke them.
Cam turned her wrist, watching her drink swirl inside the glass. It was mesmerizing to watch the dark liquid twirl inside, fascinating to focus on the ice spinning on its own axis inside the swirl like two tiny planets. It was hypnotic in its simplicity. Simple, she thought as her wrist stopped and she watched the booze continue to spin. She needed something simple. She lifted the glass and took a sip welcoming the bite of the alcohol on her throat. Setting the glass down she gave it another spin and watched the whole thing turn.
Could it have gone another way? It seemed like that should have been possible, but even now, days later, she still couldn't find that moment when they could have stopped it. That was the absurdity. It was always going to go this way. No matter what they had done, it would have ended with the same shocking outcome.
Recognizing that fact left her feeling angry and strangely empty, frustrated by the impotence. And it wasn't just her. She knew they were all struggling with it. Her eyes darted to Booth who sat next to her lost in his own reflection. This was on him. This could make or break his career. And yet as important as that was, she knew it was only part of his concern. What he was truly concerned with was the same thing she wondered. With this kind of awful resolution could they, as a team, move on from this?
This team did good work together. Since their return a year ago they had done some amazing work. But, could they pick up the pieces and move forward after this? They had faced difficulties before but never something like this. This was new and uniquely troubling. There would be no satisfaction, no sense of accomplishment. They had solved eight, no nine murders, she corrected. And yet there was no satisfaction. She took another drink and corrected herself again. There had been one moment. One bright, surprised moment when they had felt victory. Once again setting down her drink her mind moved back to Friday morning when, for just a moment, it had seemed this would end as they wished.
Fridays usually began with some promise, the anticipation of weekend possibilities almost palpable, and last Friday had been no different.
"Don't you two get enough of that at home?" she remembered complaining when she entered Angela's office and found the artist and her husband in a very serious kiss.
"You'd think so, but no not really," Hodgins answered without releasing his hold on his wife.
"Let's call it an early start to our weekend," Angela joked. "Jack is taking me to Mexico."
Cam lifted an eyebrow. "Nice. What's the occasion?"
"No occasion," Hodgins answered. "Other than I love my wife."
Cam gave him an indulgent smile. She wasn't going to chastise them further. This was the happiest she had seen him in weeks. She knew Angela was working hard to ease the pain and frustration he felt following Zack's murder and she certainly wasn't going to do anything to hamper those efforts. "I stopped in to give you these," she said offering Angela a pair of photographs of Macon.
Angela cooed in approval as she took the pictures. "Cam, he gets more beautiful every day."
"He is pretty special," she agreed.
Angela looked up to respond in agreement and saw Brennan hurrying past her door. "Bren! Sweetie, come look at Cam's new baby pictures!" Brennan appeared in the doorway and the artist quickly forgot about the photographs. "Ok, I think my day is starting better than yours. Sweetie, is everything ok?"
"My day started very well, thank you," Brennan answered. "Unfortunately, a call Booth received a short while ago has eliminated any post-orgasmic euphoria I might have carried into my work day."
Cam and Angela shared a silent grin. Some things about Brennan never grew old. "Must have been some phone call," Angela joked.
Brennan's face showed her confusion and the others began to lose their light humor. "Dr. Brennan, is there something we should know?" Cam asked in the kind of professional tone she knew would sooth the anthropologist's nerves.
Brennan nodded and took a deep breath. "I am uncertain why this would occur, but Wallace Fitz entered the Hoover building this morning and voluntarily surrendered."
"What?" The gasp came almost simultaneously from those listening to her and Brennan nodded in affirmation.
"He just walked in and gave up?" Jack pressed.
"That is my understanding."
Angela squealed with delight and Cam very nearly did the same. Hodgins grabbed his wife and spun her around before planting a noisy kiss to her cheek. But the celebration lasted only a moment before the questions began to insist on answers.
"It doesn't make sense," Angela wondered aloud. "Why turn himself in? We didn't have a solid lead. The FBI reported just yesterday that despite contacting his lawyer they didn't have anything to go on."
"It was only a matter of time," Cam insisted clinging to the euphoria of success. "Cops don't give up when they know who they are looking for."
"Ange is right," Hodgins insisted shaking his head. "I don't like it. He's up to something."
"What can he do from inside an interrogation room?" Angela scoffed. "They have him."
"So you think he'll just confess?"
Angela shrugged and looked to Brennan. The scientist also shrugged. "Booth could not tell me what to expect. He said he would call."
"I don't like this," Hodgins murmured.
The wait had seemed interminable, Cam remembered. Without discussing it each of them had begun to work on some portion of the evidence against Creeps. It was old news, they had gone over it a million times, but doing one more examination felt more productive than simply waiting for Booth's call. And when he did call that sense of trepidation they were feeling only grew worse.
"Well?" Cam demanded as Brennan set down her phone. The others had heard the ring and were clustered around her desk waiting for word on what was happening.
"Did he confess?" Angela asked impatiently.
"No." Brennan puzzled silently over the information she had learned before continuing. "He has made no statement at all."
"So he's just sitting there?"
"He has given Booth few answers and those he does provide are more antagonistic in nature."
"He's playing a game," Hodgins growled.
"That may be accurate," Brennan agreed. "Booth says he has tried a variety of interrogation techniques and none have resulted in a satisfactory outcome. He continues to try."
"Yeah, but they still have him. He's in custody, right?" Angela worried.
"Yes, but they have to make it stick," Cam explained. "That's what he's doing isn't it?" she said looking to Brennan. "He knows our evidence is shaky. He's challenging us to actually prove a link between him and those murders."
"The evidence is circumstantial at best," Brennan agreed.
"I am NOT," Jack shouted making all three women jump, "Not letting him walk out of there."
"Jack," Angela said reaching for him. "He's not going to get away."
"I believe Cam is correct," Brennan said with regret. "He is challenging us."
"Why do you say that Sweetie?"
"Because he offered to give Booth a DNA sample."
The statement shocked them all and for a very long moment there was silence.
"You think he knows we have a partial sample?" Cam wondered.
"If he does I presume he also knows it is damaged and inconclusive," Brennan guessed.
"I don't care," Hodgins spat tapping his finger on Brennan's desk with insistence. "We're going to get that DNA sample and we are going to prove he's the guy. I'm telling you, Wallace Fitz is Creeps McGee!"
"We know that, Hodgins," Cam answered.
Brennan's answer was far more objective and it cut them all to the quick. "But we must prove it."
The words still rang in her head. We must prove it. Four days later they still sounded as urgent and as vital as when Brennan had said them. Cam lifted her drink and took another sip. She swirled the liquid over her tongue letting it coat her taste buds before she swallowed. Had they proven it? Did it even matter anymore?
The autopsy had been conclusive. She could sure as hell prove that one. The thought of the autopsy chilled her and she quickly finished the last of her drink. It didn't help. The disbelief and the sense of failure still lingered. "Scoot out, Big Guy," she said nudging Booth in the leg so she could exit the booth. "I need another drink."
"Please state your full name and designation for the record."
"FBI Special Agent Claudia Ann Turner."
"Thank you. This is FBI Special Agent David Mills, Internal Affairs Division, today is Tuesday, May 29, 2011 and I am conducting the debrief of SA Claudia Turner. Also present are Special Agent William Somerset, IAD and FBI Certified Court Reporter Michelle Dailey." He paused a moment to mentally shift from the standard script to his actual questions. "Agent Turner, please establish for the record your participation in the questioning of Wallace Benjamin Fitz on May 25, 2011."
"Yes, I did participate as an adjunct to SSA Booth."
"Were you present for all rounds of questioning, Agent Turner?"
"No, I was not."
"Why is that?"
"Sir?"
"Why were you not present at all times?"
"I'm a junior agent, Agent Mills. I don't question my lead agent when he gives me an order. Agent Booth allowed me to observe all interviews, but I was only involved in one."
Agent Somerset spoke for the first time. "So while you were in the room for only one session you can provide accurate testimony regarding each interview."
"Correct," Turner agreed.
"Why the face?" Mills asked pointing a finger in her face.
"What?"
"You scowled as you answered Agent Somerset's question. Why?"
"I didn't like the implication of his question."
"Which is?"
"That I would need to provide testimony against Agent Booth."
"Is there a reason you should?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Glad to hear it," Mills answered without sincerity. "How often do you work with Agent Booth and his team?"
"Frequently."
"Do you have a lot of contact with the Jeffersonian staff?"
"Some. Why?"
"I'm just asking questions, Agent Turner. I'm trying to understand how such an inexperienced agent managed to get assigned to such a unique and highly specialized team."
"I got damn lucky. You don't think I know that?"
"Would you say you are grateful to Agent Booth?"
"For a great many things."
"Grateful enough to maybe look the other way if circumstances warranted it?"
"I am offended by that question, Agent Mills. I have agreed to tell the complete truth in this investigation, as I'm sure Agent Booth already did. There is nothing to hide and your insinuation is an insult. Now, do you have something specific in mind, or are you just slinging dirt at one of the Bureau's most successful investigators for no reason?"
"You should calm down, agent Turner. It was only a question."
She glared at him but didn't speak.
Mills glanced at his partner and they shared a look that made her want to smack their heads together. When Mills resumed his questions he took her by surprise and changed the subject. "Was Mr. Fitz cooperative during interrogation?"
Turner snorted. "Hardly."
"You sure about that? There are sections of the recorded statement that seem especially forthcoming."
Turner shrugged. "At the end it seemed like it, but that's not what was happening."
"Did Agent Booth account for the voluntary nature of Mr. Fitz's appearance?"
"You mean did he make sure the legalities were followed? Yeah, the little weasel got plenty of offers for food and drink and toilet breaks. Hell, Booth would have taken him for a walk around the block if he'd asked for it. The guy was here on his own, Booth made certain not a single one of his rights as an American citizen was infringed on in any way."
"I'm sensing hostility, Agent Turner, do you have a problem with participating in this investigation?"
Turner took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She'd never been through an IAD investigation and it was proving more difficult than she imagined. Lance had warned her, Booth too, but it was hard to understand how easily these guys could turn your words on you until you experienced it. She was hostile, but it wasn't about them. She was pissed off. It had been days since it all went down and she still felt the anger boiling inside. She took another breath and remembered why she was here. "I apologize if my answers seem antagonistic. I can assure you that I have no qualms about speaking with your or answering fully with regard to any questions you might have about the incident in question."
Mills inclined his head in acceptance of her apology. "Agent, how familiar where you with the series of crimes that prompted Mr. Fitz's questioning?"
Turner shuddered. "Too familiar."
"Please be specific," Mills scolded.
"My first exposure came when Agent Booth pulled me in to assist with the investigation on the death of Alice Fernley. I worked in some capacity on each subsequent case. There were eight in total."
"When was the Fernley case?"
"Eleven months ago."
"And Booth has been pursuing Fitz ever since?"
"Not at first. We didn't even realize he was a serial killer until the other bodies were discovered."
"Booth and his team attributed eight murders to this same individual?"
"He left a calling card," Turner pointed out crossing her arms across her chest. "It wasn't hard to figure out."
"And after eleven months Agent Booth suddenly knew exactly who it was he was looking for?"
"After Dr. Hodgins told him, yeah."
"Ah yes, Dr. Hodgins." He almost said more and then closed his mouth. When he continued it was in a new direction. "Did Agent Booth threaten Mr. Fitz with physical harm?"
"What? No."
"Agent I'll remind you that you have stated you were witness to all interrogation sessions of Mr. Fitz and that we have both the statement made by Booth and the interrogation video already in evidence." He leaned slightly forward as if anticipating the answer to his question. "Did Agent Booth at any time threaten Mr. Fitz?"
"Not directly."
"Indirectly?"
"He reacted ok! He was never going to actually hurt Creeps. Unless the psycho actually tried to carry out that veiled threat he made to Dr. Brennan."
"Creeps? That is the moniker Agent Booth assigned to Mr. Fitz, is that correct?"
"Actually, it was Dr. Hodgins who named him. We had to call him something and Dr. Hodgins has an odd sense of humor. It fit. Booth didn't really approve of the name, but it stuck anyway. I'm told that's kind of a team tradition."
"Returning to my earlier point, Booth did promise physical harm to his interrogation subject?"
"He never threatened him," Turner snapped. "He never said a word he didn't have to. But it was clear he would protect his partner. You going to sit there and let some lowlife threaten your partner?" she demanded as she pointed a finger at Somerset.
"I don't think Agent Mills and I have the same kind of partnership," Somerset sneered.
Turner glared at him and snapped her mouth shut before she said something her career would regret.
"What was Agent Booth's purpose in bringing in Dr. Sweets?"
"Why are you asking me that?"
"Touchy, Agent Turner," Somerset mocked. "You a little sensitive about the good doc?"
"No, I wondered why you would ask me about Booth's purpose. I would only be speculating. If you want the answer you should ask Booth."
"Oh, we did. Now I'd like your interpretation. You saw all the interviews, even participated in one. So why do you think Booth brought in his shrink?"
"I guess…he was looking for any angle that would work, you know? He'd tried just about everything in the book, by himself, with me, having Dr. Sweets ask some questions was just another technique. He was trying to find what would work."
"Because he had a vendetta? Or because he was frustrated?"
"Neither!"
"So Booth had no personal stake in this? Even though one of the victims was a friend?"
"No."
"And he displayed no frustration with the course of the interrogation prior to Dr. Sweets' involvement?" There was silence and Mills pushed. "Agent Turner, please answer the question."
"He was frustrated. We all were. It had been hours and we weren't getting anywhere. But it was not a vendetta and using Dr. Sweets was nothing more than the next step in the process."
"Kind of like letting amateurs take over the questions was the next step?"
"That's not what happened."
"What did happen?"
"You know what happened."
"What's in the report you mean?" Mills shook his head. "It's pretty unbelievable."
"It's true! Every statement in that report, every word of it is true."
"Whose idea was it to utilize the type of questioning you employed in your interview, Agent Turner?"
Turner frowned at the quick change of subject but she refused to be thrown off her game. She could see where this was going and she didn't like the way it looked. "Both Agent Booth and myself agreed it was a viable strategy."
"I'm sure you did. But who suggested it?" He sat waiting. "Agent Turner?"
"Booth, are you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"What are you now, my mother? I said I'm fine, Turner."
"Yes, sir."
Booth sighed and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Sorry," he said with sincerity. "Thanks for asking Turner. It's just been a really frustrating morning."
"I can imagine. The guy is freaking me out and I haven't even been in the room yet."
"Well, let's hope your tolerance is high because you're about to get your turn. You ready?"
"Sure, but…"
"What?"
"Are you sure this is the best approach?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. You having second thoughts, Agent?"
"No, sir."
"Good, let's go."
"Booth?"
"What?"
"I am not questioning orders, and if this is what you want done I'll do it. But…"
"Stop!" He interrupted her. "Stop right now. Quit thinking about this as if he's a regular human being. He's not. He's a disgusting, calculating, manipulative son of a bitch. He is not the average citizen. I know you are still green enough that those lessons they teach you at Quantico are still fresh. But, Turner, you have to learn something and you have to learn it now. The job isn't always that noble dream they sell you during the recruiting process. The motto may be Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity, but sometimes you have to set it aside. The job can be ugly, Turner and sometimes we have to get ugly with it."
"Yes, sir."
"If you have to question this, just remember those eight people he killed. Not one of them deserved it, they were good people, they were honest, hardworking, loving people. One of them was the most innocent human being I've ever known. And he killed them just because he wanted to, because he thought he was better than them. But he's not. And we are going to prove it to him."
"Let's go. I'd hate to keep him waiting."
"That'a girl."
Creeps grinned an oily, slithering kind of smile when he saw Turner enter the room behind Booth. "Agent Booth, how nice of you to invite Agent Turner to join us. How are you, my dear?"
Turner resisted the urge to shiver in revulsion. His voice sent tingles of disgust over her skin and down her spine. She already felt the need to shower and he had barely begun.
The sound of her name snapped her out of her reflection and Turner looked at Mills. "Agent Booth first suggested the line of questioning, but I gave it my full support."
"Right, full support."
"Are we about done here?"
"You have somewhere you need to be?"
"No, not really I just wonder how long you are going to keep asking questions that can't be twisted the way you want them. Booth didn't do anything wrong."
"I think that's for us to determine, Agent Turner. And I'm just not as certain of that as you are."
She wanted to throttle him. How could he not see the facts? How could two competent, seasoned, presumably intelligent agents not understand that they had had absolutely no control over what happened? They kept at it, hammering her with questions, doubling back on things they'd already asked and she'd already answered. Every time it was the same. She knew why they did it. They wanted to trip her up, make her say something she didn't intend. If she had been hiding something it might have worked. The way they looped in and out of the timeline that day made her head spin. If there was something to hide they could easily have tripped her up and made her reveal the secret. But there wasn't anything. Not that the truth prevented them from trying.
It was dark when she reached the Founding Fathers, dark outside, dark inside and the shadows were an even match for her mood. Today had been exhausting. On the bright side there was no way it could be worse than last Friday. She lifted her beer and watched the man across from her as she sipped. His whole career was riding on this. It was horrible enough that he had what had happened hanging like an albatross around his neck. That guilt and frustration and pain were enough of a burden. He didn't need something like this ending his career. It wasn't fair. Didn't they already have enough pain to process after all this? She took another sip and drained her bottle. This was definitely the part of the job they didn't advertise during recruiting.
Her musing was interrupted when Cam slid from the booth and she quickly followed. This was going to be a long night. She was going to need a few more drinks.
"Please state your full name and designation for the record."
"Dr, Lance Sweets, FBI psychologist."
"Thank you. This is FBI Special Agent David Mills, Internal Affairs Division, today is Tuesday, May 29, 2011 and I am conducting the debrief of Dr. Sweets. Also present are Special Agent William Somerset, IAD and FBI Certified Court Reporter Michelle Dailey. Dr. Sweets please confirm your participation in the questioning of Wallace Benjamin Fitz on May 25, 2011."
"That is correct, I did assist Agent Booth with the questioning of that suspect."
"And what qualifies you for that role?"
"I hold PhDs in both Clinical Psychology and Behavior Analysis from Columbia University. My position at the FBI includes providing psychological profiles of potential suspects and interpretation of the behavior of those interviewed or apprehended, as I did for Agent Booth."
"So you are a smart guy, like those scientists over at the museum?"
"Thank you for noticing, Agent Mills."
"I'm not real good at this stuff, doc," Somerset interjected. "Help me out a little. What you do is talk to the perps Booth hauls in and you what? You figure out if they are lying or something?"
"By reading minute facial cues and overall body language I'm able to ascertain whether or not a suspect is being evasive or hiding something." "So you're like a people reader? You figure people out?"
"I try, just as I can read right now that you're trying to make yourself seem less intelligent than you are. But, as Dr. Brennan likes to remind me, it is not an exact science."
"You like the scientist lady, doc? You had a little smile when you said that."
"Dr. Brennan and I share a friendly affection for one another. We have a long running disagreement about the compatibility of our fields. It's become something of a bonding experience for us and it does make me smile."
"You think it will still be friendly after what went down in this case?"
Sweets' smile disappeared. "This case will result in a strengthening of Booth and Brennan's team."
"Really?" Mills shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know doc, I think this might be the kind of thing that pulls people apart. Something like this sparks emotion. Things get said in the heat of the moment, accusations fly. I'm no shrink, but I know enough to know someone has to be held accountable. Mistakes were made. Big ones. Big enough to tear this team of yours apart."
Sweets shook his head. "That won't happen."
"You've got them all figured out don't you?"
"Excuse me?"
"Booth, his partner, this group of whatever they are that you work with. You have them all figured out don't you? It's not just the perps you analyze, is it?"
Sweets nodded faintly, "I know them well, if that's what you mean."
"But you actually counseled Booth and his partner, right? You've actually spent time professionally studying them? You even wrote a book about them."
Sweets' mouth twitched as he tried to determine the intent of this line of questioning. "That's a matter of record, Agent Mills. I'm sure that you're aware that my first assignment with Booth was an analysis of his partnership with Dr. Brennan for the FBI."
"But it didn't stop when that was over, did it? No, I'm betting you still do it. You still study them. What did you call it?" He glanced at a note inside the file resting open before him. "Their unique symbiotic yet dichotomous partnership," he quoted. "That sounds like the kind of thing you'd continue to pay attention to, doc."
"Agent Mills, would you like for me to state on the record that I have a professional interest in Agent Booth and his partner?"
"Yes, actually I would. That would be very helpful."
"Fine." Sweets raised his hands, "It's true, I can't help but pay attention to them, they fascinate me. They're two people who shouldn't work well together but they do and watching them find their way can be highly entertaining. Yes, Agent Mills, I make a habit of analyzing Booth and Brennan."
"Great, then let me ask you this." He dropped his pen and sat back as his eyes met Sweets' guarded gaze. "Did Agent Booth allow this to happen or did he actively orchestrate the events?"
Sweets sat up straight his cheeks flushing slightly as he held his temper in check. "That's a terribly loaded question. How about neither, Agent Mills? What happened last Friday was out of Booth's control. It was out of all of our control. It was in motion prior to Fitz walking into the Hoover, and there is nothing Booth or any of us could have done to stop it."
Somerset flipped open his own folder and glanced through the papers inside. He found what he was looking for and pulled a sheet of paper free. "Dr. Sweets, you filed a report in Agent Booth's personnel record on April 24, 2009 with the following assessment." He paused and then began reading from the paper. "Agent Booth has a powerful need to control his environment. This need often manifests itself in his work habits and is often a source of conflict with Dr. Brennan."
"That was a long time ago, but I do remember that report," Sweets admitted. "You're taking that out of context though. What I was getting at was…"
"Doc," Mills interrupted. "I'm sure it's real insightful, but we need to press on. We have a lot of interviews to do today. I think my partner was about to get to his point."
Somerset nodded and dropped the paper. "In your professional opinion, Dr. Sweets, how much did Agent Booth's need to control the situation contribute to how the events of Friday May 25 spiral out of control?"
Sweets' blew an exasperated breath from between his lips and leaned forward. He spoke with more animation than he usually allowed and internally he chided himself for letting his interrogation room demeanor falter. He knew he shouldn't but these guys were asking the wrong questions; dangerous questions that could land Booth in a lot of trouble. "I already told you. Nothing would have changed the outcome of Fitz's questioning."
"Hmm, maybe," Mills responded sounding anything but convinced. "Doc, do you think the relationship Booth has with his partner is a detriment to his work performance?"
"What? No!"
"It does skirt the line on regulations."
"If you've been reading personnel records and my reports so closely you must know my position on this matter," Sweets fired back. "The connection between Booth and Brennan enhances their effectiveness as a team."
"Yeah, I've never understood that."
"Well, I do. I think we've established that I'm highly qualified to make that assessment so you can believe me when I say Agent Booth is in no way hampered in performing his duties as a result of his partnership with Dr. Brennan."
"You seem a little worked up there, doc."
"You can't have it both ways, Agent Mills. If you want my expert opinion on why Booth did what he did. If you want me to explain the motivations of Wallace Fitz or interpret the actions of Jeffersonian team then you have to give equal credence to my opinion on this matter. You may not like it, but it's the truth."
"Fair enough," Mills said backing down and giving Sweets a placating hand gesture. "Let's talk about something else."
"How about you?"
"Me? What about me?"
"Well, as you just reminded me, Dr. Sweets, you are an expert. You have quite the list of letters behind your name, lots of big impressive degrees and your own personnel file is full of commendations and awards."
"What is your point, Mills?"
"My point is this. If you are so clever, such a top flight shrink, how in the hell did you miss this? Shouldn't you have seen this coming? I mean, what the hell, doc?" He pounded a fist on the table and Sweets jumped in surprise. "You sat in that observation room all damn day, Sweets! How did you not see this as a possibility?"
He shook his head as if in disbelief. "I mean it boggles the mind, really. You don't want me to blame Booth. You claim he had no way to know what was coming. Ok, maybe I'll go along with that after all he's just a cop like me, an average guy. But you are the smart one. You are tuned in to people. You've been studying Wallace Fitz for eleven months, Dr. Sweets. How did you not anticipate this disaster?"
"I could have. I should have," Sweets answered as he slumped in his chair. "If I had approached my analysis of Creeps from a domestic point of view I totally could have."
He was a little surprised not to find looks of blame and accusation on the IAD faces across the table and he sat up a little straighter. He spoke quickly hoping to explain or alleviate his own guilt. "Fitz's profile is a one of a highly intelligent narcissist who planned out every detail of his vicitims' deaths. Nothing was done without a plan. When he walked into the Hoover, I knew he had some sort of plan in place…"
"So you could have seen it coming. You could have stopped it."
"No."
"Aw, come on, doc. You tell me I can't have it both ways and then you want to do the same. Either I blame Booth or I blame you. Someone is at fault. Or maybe I should blame Turner? Is that it, the rookie made a mistake and you and Booth are covering it up?"
Sweets smirked at him. "That had to be your weakest attempt. Don't try to use my relationship with Agent Turner for emotional blackmail, Agent Mills. I won't allow it."
"Give me a name, Dr. Sweets. Someone is to blame here. Who made the mistake?"
"No one. I can keep repeating this until I'm blue in the face or you can actually listen to me. There was no way to prevent what happened. As horrible as it was, as unexpected and as shocking as the events that unfolded were, I still maintain that there was nothing we could have done to prevent it."
"Things like that just don't happen inside the Hoover, Dr. Sweets. You can't just shrug and walk away from it. Someone has to be held responsible."
"You want me to give you a name? Someone to blame? Wallace Fitz."
"Someone has to be held responsible." Sweets pulled open the door and entered the bar with his head bowed. The words had been ringing in his ears for hours. Is that what they wanted here, a scapegoat? Would they really sacrifice Booth just to prove a point?
He stopped at the bar and ordered a drink. As he waited he turned and leaned his back against the wood. His friends sat not far away and he lifted his chin to acknowledge the look he received from Booth. He appreciated the greeting, silent and reserved as it was, it was still a greeting. That tiny gesture of normalcy was important for them, important for Booth. He could see the weight the agent carried as he waited for this to end. It was the same weight he had been carrying since Friday.
For the hundredth or maybe thousandth time those final minutes played over in his head. He saw the look of shock on Booth's face. He heard the gasps and felt the coldness of surprise that descended on them all. He remembered the scramble to the door as he yelled for help, his own cries mixing with Claudia's. Over their frantic calls there had been the commanding orders Booth had issued. The pounding of running feet and the shouts had added to the chaos and it sounded more real to him than the buzz of normal bar sounds that surrounded him now. Taking his drink he nodded toward the table letting the bartender know he'd be running a tab. He passed Claudia on his way to the table and she gave him a kiss. It wasn't much of a kiss; it was kind of like that nod he had received from Booth, an attempt at normal amid the abnormal. As he slid into his seat he sat his drink on the table and wondered if they would ever find normal again.
How could the teams' win over Creeps turn to a shocking loss in mere minutes? Join us next week to find out in the second part of the season finale, The Agony in the Defeat by NatesMama and Squinttoyou.