Title: Broken
Disclaimer: No infringement intended. I'm still just playing around with these characters.
Rating: This chapter is still T rated. Stick with me my friends; it will be naughty naughty eventually!
A/N: Thanks again to everyone who has been reviewing this so much! I can't believe that the response has been so great and the compliments have been amazing! I hope I can continue to do the premise justice as well as keep it as realistic and uncliched as an amnesia story can be! Thank you also to everyone who has added it to an alert/favourite list! On with the story!
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"Tell me about some of the cases we worked together," he asks me as I weave my car through the dense morning traffic of DC. I briefly contemplate omitting the most hard-hitting of our investigations and then quickly decide against it.
"We've worked on so many," I begin tentatively. "Our working relationship wasn't always quite so fluid." He turns to watch me, catching a glimpse of my smile. "At times you drove me insane with your irrational assumptions and ridiculous conjecture." He props his arm against the door, angling himself towards me.
"It sounds as though I still drive you insane." Maybe, I think. But mostly in a whole different context.
"Well, you lead by emotions and your gut and I lead by evidence and my brain. But together it seems we have the whole package. Sweets thinks our partnership is 'dynamic', his word, not mine. We visited him for weekly sessions - I don't think we need it but... it gives us a chance to analyse things between us." Booth thinks about this in silence," We worked a case involving a guy called Howard Epps." I sense his anguish, the sudden dawning realisation that he knows this name. His eyes flash angrily.
"That bastard is on death row..." I nod, beginning the story of how Howard Epps tried to systematically destroy us, detailing each horrifying crime he committed, ending with his death on the sidewalk outside my apartment. Each new revelation makes Booth's skin paler, his jaw tighter. "I can't believe I... fell for it. I caused it." I shake my head fiercely, furious that he would fail to see how easily we all were roped in. How each of us doubted the evidence. "He could have killed you... our friend almost died. My son... this Zach guy..." I think of all the lives that could have been lost and the ones that were, I feel deeply saddened.
"The aftermath of this investigation was essentially what brought you to Gordon Wyatt, the English doctor you remembered in hospital." I tell him the stories he shared with me about his time with Dr Wyatt, including his own penchant for nicknaming him 'Gordon Gordon' owing to the somewhat eccentric man's way of introducing himself. Booth chuckles.
"That sounds like something I would do, alright." He lapses into silence again, privately reflecting on Howard Epps and how the serial killer had affected all our lives. The mood is sober and many unanswered questions linger between us. I expect him to ask me more about the case but instead he questions me about Zach. "He doesn't work at the Jeffersonian anymore?" I know that Booth was fond of my assistant, despite his outward pretense that Zach Addy was a bizarre, irritating creature.
"Zach..." I begin, my voice morose. "Zach was my grad student. He was undoubtedly - is undoubtedly one of the most gifted and brilliant people I've ever known. He was very impressionable, however... his social skills lacked even more than mine, if you can believe it. Some time ago he got invited to Iraq by the White House and unfortunately we can only assume his time there deeply affected him psychologically. He admits that he didn't fit in and I believe that all brilliance aside it was his inability to integrate and mesh with others that became his downfall..." My story about Gormagon leaves Booth rigid again, deeply troubled when he comes to realise that this boy we trusted so implicitly had allowed himself to be led. It bothers me still because in many ways Zach was my kindred spirit. "It hurt Jack more than anyone," I finish. "They were best friends - albeit awkward best friends - but Zach idolised Jack." We have reached the Jeffersonian and I park in my designated spot, facing the oldest and most spectacular part of the building. "We work in the Medico-Legal lab." Booth nods and unclips his seatbelt, his eyes searching the entire outside of the building as though hoping something he sees might jog something in his memory.
Inside the lab everyone immediately stops what they are doing and rushes to greet us with hearty welcomes. It feels nice knowing that Booth means so much to them and their faces are alight with joy. "Hey man, any progress with that thick skull of yours?" Hodgins asks as he peels off a pair of latex gloves. Booth gives a chuckle, weary and self deprecating.
"Nope, mostly blank. I think I vaguely remember you though... you're the guy who never has any luck with the ladies, right?" Hodgins glowers before Booth grins. "Just kidding, that's for the thick skull comment." Jack rolls his eyes.
"Same old, Booth, really. We thought brain surgery would have made you nicer, too." Angela gives a typical seductive purr, moving close.
"We girls quite like the vulnerable Booth, don't we?" Booth has the expression of a deer caught in headlights, quite unaware of how to handle Angela's brazen come on. Luckily I know my best friend well enough to be sure she is kidding. "And Bren just loves playing nurse." She leans close to me and says, louder than a whisper, "I even have an outfit you can borrow." Booth blushes and I swat her away. Clark Edison, whose name has been drawn again for the eternally rotating internship, rolls his eyes in distain. "That is me cue to go," Angela jokes spinning in the heel of her patent leather pumps. "But I'd be happy to model the outfit for you anytime, Clark." Edison gives a heavy sigh.
"This is surely sexual harassment. How many times do I have to tell you, Miss Montenegro - I am not interested." Ange winks at him and strides off. I can tell that Booth is quite fascinated by Angela, maybe a little stunned at the feistiness she displayed. Camille demonstrated that not all of the Jeffersonian's women were insatiably horny by giving him a quick hug.
"How are you, Seeley?" He winces. "Oh, I'm calling you Seeley again. We let bygones be bygones." I feel that customary twinge of envy knowing that Cam had once been able to know Booth intimately -- and have him know her back. "How are you feeling?" Booth half shrugs.
"Frustrated mostly. I keep hoping that something will click." I give him a reassuring smile. Jasper the Pig, he said, was vaguely familiar. He described the sensation as being akin to meeting someone for the first time and having a strong feeling of having known them before. With Jasper back safely in the box, I allow myself to believe that progress is being made. It's only been two days since we left the hospital.
"When can we expect you back, Dr Brennan?" Cam addresses me in her usual businesslike form. I respect her work ethic immensely. "We have a body, Dr Edison is very capable, of course, but your expertise on the matter could be invaluable." I am not ready to return to the lab, leaving Booth alone. If he has a breakthrough, I want to be available to talk him through it. Maybe Angela is right - maybe I do relish my role as nursemaid.
"I can set up a teleconference later today to discuss the case but I would prefer to take as much of a passing role as possible. You understand?" Cam assures me that she does.
"Temperance tells me you've adopted Andrew's daughter. That must have been a tough decision," Booth says to Cam.
"You know, surprisingly it wasn't. She's a good kid." I admire how easily Cam has slipped into the role of surrogate mother to Michelle. "Angela and I thought that maybe we could arrange dinner - all of us - sometime soon? Maybe being around us all will help?" Booth nods enthusiastically. "Also, Sweets called this morning; he wants to talk to you, Dr Brennan, about some treatment." This interests me.
"I'll give him a call. Booth, why don't you take a look around? Go the gallery upstairs and get yourself a coffee."
Sweets answers my call at once. "Dr Brennan," he says brightly, "I've been researching this week on what the best method would be for Agent Booth. Now, I know you are highly distrusting of psychological sciences..." I am, this is not a lie. However at this stage, I'd be more than willing to try anything except more brain surgery. "I spoke with a guy called Dr Miller, he works in hypnotherapy and he seems to think Booth is a prime candidate for hypnosis." I am silent for a long moment, sitting at my desk surrounded by all things logical and rational, listening to Lance Sweets suggesting that we put my partner in a dream-state. It's absurd, but I find myself agreeing. If there is even a miniscule chance that it might work, I'm in.
"Set up an appointment, I think he will go for it." I am sure Booth's mindset is the same as my own - anything to recapture the lost years of his memory. "We are organising a get together some time soon, will you make it?" I sense in the momentary silence that Sweets his deeply touched. Like Zach did, he desperately seeks approval.
"Of course, Dr Brennan." We bid each other goodbye and I sit alone in my office wondering what incredible things might be revealed under the powerful manipulation of hypnosis.