It's a twofer, since I made you wait! This chapter's fluffy, but the next one has some serious plot advancers…wait for it. :)
Hugs to my readers! xoxo
Disclaimer: Again, the usual.
The Perotta coffee rendezvous had led to a debacle. Lance and Perotta had had a pleasant enough time, chatting about their various college experiences (it turned out that Perotta was quite young—only 25, like Lance), their travels to foreign lands (Perotta had backpacked in Thailand after graduation), and a bit about the case they were mutually working on. Still the team at the Jeffersonian was stymied on who and even if Lance's assailant was a Gravedigger apprentice. Lance was more and more tempted to contact Dr. Brennan himself if no one else was willing to do it.
But Perotta…a cup of coffee had led to hanging out over several weeks, and hanging out had eventually led to sex. Lance hadn't really wanted things to progress that far, but he was quite weak willed when it came to resisting attractive women who appeared to want him, as he had been the case with Tory Payne, the Avatar floosie. Sex had been painful for Lance, not just because his leg was throbbing and he couldn't even kiss properly, but because it was obvious he was still in love with Daisy. When Perotta had left his apartment that night, he'd collapsed in tears.
Perotta had also taken the hint. When Lance had forced himself to call her the next day, because he did care for her, she had told him, "Hey, it was fun. But I can tell you're not over Daisy. Don't worry about it."
As usual, she sounded firm and confident, so he took her advice and tried to let it go. He was not one for casual sex and felt immensely guilty. He invested emotionally in basically everything he did; he simply could not help himself.
Lance had grown so distressed over the Perotta situation that he had even emailed Booth. Booth had responded a week later with the unsettling revelation that he too had slept with Perotta casually. Sweets shouldn't be concerned, Booth assured him. Perotta was tight lipped and cool about it…even if she had been a bit kinky in the bedroom. Lance didn't pursue that one, since she had seemed normal enough given the physical obstacles of Lance's broken body. She had lingered a little too long tracing the scars on his back—longer than Lance had been comfortable with. Booth had concluded his email by expressing disgust that Sweets and him now seemed to be bedding the same woman. Booth told Sweets if he was going to leave the FBI, now was the time to do it.
Truthfully, that was exactly Lance's plan. His interview at Georgetown had gone swimmingly, and he was now convinced that he wanted to teach in the fall. He'd finish out July at the FBI, take half of August to prep his classes, which were mostly introductory anyway, and then begin the semester at Georgetown. As promised, Cam would hire him as a contractor at the Jeffersonian. Lance would maintain a small office there (indeed, Zack's old office) and alternate hours between his two jobs. His days were going to be grueling and packed, but Lance was eager for intense intellectual stimulation. He didn't care to leave himself much time alone in his head.
Six weeks had passed since Lance's injuries, and he finally was free of his bondage. He was slowly regaining use of his leg by way of intense physical therapy. He had been a swimmer in college and was hitting the pool 3 or 4 times a week.
Lance hadn't tracked down the circus or answered his mother's letter, though he pondered her communication every day. It nagged at him and made him uneasy. He wished his real parents—his adopted parents—were still alive to offer their wisdom.
But on this Saturday, to celebrate the release of his jaw, he and Bea were having lunch at the Royal Diner with Lulu. Lance had the sense things were escalating between Bea and Perry, and he tried to make himself available to her whenever possible. He wanted to personally march over to Bea's house and smack the lowlife with the stupid name in the face, but of course, this was just fantasy. The picture of Perry he had seen revealed a man far too burly for Lance to take down.
At this moment, Lulu was sitting on Lance's lap, attempting to grab everything within reach on his plate and then smearing it on his black t-shirt. Lance didn't mind. He was totally smitten with this tiny human. She then managed to spill ketchup on the crotch of his faded jeans.
"Hmmm…that's not going to look good," Lance said wistfully, and tried to wipe it up while balancing the child.
"Let me take her—she's out of control, Sweets!" Bea insisted.
"No, no. What else can she do now? I already look like my crotch has been attacked by a pack of rabid dogs," Lance assured her.
"Alright then. So…whatever happened with you and Perotta? She's pretty, if blond. I thought maybe you two were developing a thing," Bea prompted.
Lance blushed a little at the memory of his ill-fated fling with Perotta, as Lulu unintentionally clocked him in the sore jaw. Did he detect some jealousy in Bea's tone? "Owww. Uh, we had a very minor thing, but…"
"But you're still not over Daisy."
"No, I'm not. We were engaged. I wanted to start a family with her. Why is everyone trying to rush me? I just need some time!" He said sharply.
"Hey chill. I'm not trying to rush you. Take all the time you need—turn 80 and still be pining for all I care. Geez," Bea huffed.
Lance scoffed, "I'm not going to love her forever, I just…well, you know it really irked me that all of my friends seemed to be glad when she left me. They all said it was for the best. No one seemed to care that it might really hurt."
Bea offered, "Well that might seem presumptuous and annoying of them now, but someday you'll appreciate their honesty. You could have made a big mistake marrying her. What was she like anyway?" Lance noted the use of the past tense, as if Daisy were dead.
"Well she is…a couple years older than I am, she was very talkative and a little socially awkward, I guess. She was like a little ball of energy who flung herself around spreading joy in my life. Every time I saw her I had to smile. And well, we had a very intense relationship," Lance finished suggestively.
Bea considered this assessment. "So the sex was good. You're such a man, Sweets. How did it go wrong?"
"Well…it was going great until she was presented with a fabulous career opportunity. I looked shabby compared to ancient human remains in Indonesia, I guess."
"Yeah it's hard to compete with those," Bea said, rolling her eyes. "Well, I think she didn't realize what she had in front of her. And it seems like you two were in different places. You want a family, stability, love, and she wants to pursue her professional dreams. You've basically already achieved many of yours. There's really nothing wrong with either of your goals, it's just you're a little more settled than she is." Bea stabbed an enormous forkful of salad and then tossed it back onto her plate with disgust. "They've got to get some vegan options here, Compadre. I'm sick of iceberg lettuce."
"Yeah," Lance agreed distracted. He looked slyly at the compact Asian woman sitting across from him wearing a vibrant green v-neck which revealed yet another tiny tattoo in Vietnamese. "How old are you? I thought you were younger when I first met you, but then you told me your family was displaced by the Vietnam War…"
"Yeah, I get that a lot—looking young. People at the grocery store call me 'Honey' and card me on wine purchases until I want to lunge across the counter and wring their ever-loving necks. I'm almost 32, Sweets. I'm getting old."
Lance laughed, "Yeah, I know a thing or two about looking young. I'm destined to have my cheeks pinched for eternity. I'm 25," he offered.
"I know. Cam told me."
"Oh, what else has Cam told you about me?"
"Not much. You're nerdy," she began, which made Lance pout. "You have like a zillion doctorates and are some kind of prodigy. She said you play piano. Of course, I play some piano and violin. I'm Asian."
"Rolling out the stereotypes, huh? What do your parents do?"
"Prepare yourself for more stereotypes," she said sighing. "They run a nail shop in LA."
"No! Really? Hah." Lance imagined her parents sticking Lee Press-On Nails onto bored, tanned women.
"Yeah, and they're super crazy immigrants. Whenever I see them, which is like once every 5 years they say, 'Bea, you so fat! You so ugly! What happen to our baby girl?' And of course they resent like hell that I had a child out of wedlock. Yet they send Lulu all kinds of crap she doesn't need. Like frilly dresses that make me want to puke."
Lance was cracking up, but feeling like perhaps he shouldn't be, given Bea's off color imitations of her parents.
Bea finished, "But does anyone really like their parents?"
"I do," Lance said, frowning deeply. "I loved my parents. I was adopted, and my parents were the greatest gift I was ever given in life." He was defiant.
Bea remembered that at the hospital Lance had mentioned having no next of kin. But she didn't feel like prying into his parents' demise. Today was supposed to be about celebrating Lance's recovery. Besides, he was making his puppy dog face that was too cute to be serious around.
"You know what I think we should do?" She asked as Lulu let out a squeal and a stream of babble. Now she had to talk over the baby. "Skype Dr. Brennan about the case. I've been pouring over some of the past Gravedigger cases and things don't add up. For instance, how does Heather Taffett get a 180-pound unconscious man out his window? Booth's a big guy, I understand."
"Yeah, I've always wondered about that," Lance agreed, a little surprised that Bea had changed the conversation so abruptly. But Bea often avoided any subject that might touch on Lance's past. She wasn't nosy, unlike him.
"How did she move fridges, caskets, a car, capsules? How did she do that stuff without help?"
"I know. I think she's always had an accomplice," Lance agreed.
"Me too. And you know what else? I think Dr. Brennan might have the answer we're looking for. Besides, I'm eager to meet her, if only via the internet."
"Dr. Brennan is certainly unique. She does take some getting used to, but I'm an enormous fan," Lance said.
Yes, my friends. Dr. Brennan to the rescue in the next chapter!