The usual disclaimer applies.
Chapter 4 - Interpersonal Relations
Tempe stood in the lab, keeping her head down, too tired and inexplicably depressed to defend herself. Cam was angry, uncharacteristically so, and at present was asking sharp questions as she followed the log-in procedure for the body, something she didn't have to do, since Tempe would have taken care of it. Angela was an unhappy bystander for Cam's temper, and she had tucked herself in the corner of the lab, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible – another uncharacteristic reaction. There was a part of Brennan that had begun to wonder if the rules of the world had been turned upside-down with the destruction of Booth's church – a consideration that had no basis in fact or logic, but Tempe was afraid to examine that too closely.
"Did you at least get Booth to sign the case log?" Cam demanded.
Wordlessly, Brennan passed it, not pointing out the attached forensic inventory sheet she'd filled out and printed from her laptop before leaving the scene.
Cam observed the mini binder clip and flipped through the pages, perhaps scanning for some sign that Dr. Brennan had missed a step. Tempe wasn't sure which would anger her more – an inadvertent error or none at all.
Cam flipped forward once and back again. "Oh sh--" Cam rarely finished a profanity, and Brennan was amused in spite of herself. The brief smile that flitted across Tempe's face was met by narrowed eyes. "It's a priest," Cam finished.
"That hasn't been definitively established," Tempe answered. Another sour look from Cam made her add, "But that is my working hypothesis." Cam pursed her lips
Tempe shot a questioning glance to Angela, who only shrugged before slumping a little deeper in her chair.
Cam's demeanor finally softened. "So that's why," she said. Tempe had no idea what that meant. Since Cam's arrival, they had learned to respect one another, and overlook each other's idiosyncrasies. Cam had accepted Tempe's processes and given her broad freedom when investigating for the FBI. Tempe had grown used to Cam's "object lessons" and learned to appreciate her protocols. Booth was her partner, not Cam's, so any agreement to call Cam for her expertise was courtesy for her rank, not protocol. At least you weren't awakened in the dead of night, Tempe thought, irritably.
Cam placed the log in the active cases register and turned. "Do you know how I started my morning, Dr Brennan?" Tempe gaped at the use of her professional name. She cast a quick glance at Angela, who was now staring at Cam openly. "I was still in a towel when the first industrious reporter called my house." That might explain why Cam had come to work with two different colors of shoes on, but Tempe figured now was not the most opportune moment to point that out.
"How would you feel if your lab was looted and I didn't bother to tell you until you walked into a building surrounded in yellow crime-scene tape?" Cam demanded.
Tempe stared at her blankly – it was probably one of the afore-mentioned object lessons, which was exactly why she detested them. Perhaps some people required the opportunity to learn by experience, Brennan considered it an inefficient use of time – a commodity she had far too little of. She fought the urge to yell, "Say what you mean!" and ended up biting her tongue instead.
Cam paced for a moment. "I guess I can understand why Booth didn't think to call me – to prepare me for the horde of press that swarmed the Jeffersonian this morning. The fact is he probably should be as far away from this case as possible, but out of respect for him, I won't tell his superior about the connection." Cam took a deep breath and fixed Tempe with a look that made her cringe. "Don't you think you could have warned me? You stepped all over jurisdictional toes with this, Brennan. Couldn't you have told me that Booth was taking over before his A.D. gave him the go-ahead?" Tempe felt her head snap up involuntarily.
"He what?"
Cam hadn't expected that and froze. "Didn't you question why the other crime investigation team was still on-scene?"
"Yes, but –" Tempe began to fume. All morning she'd been emotionally affected by thoughts of what Booth must be suffering. "Booth can be very convincing," she said in a low voice.
Only Angela seemed to realize how very livid she was. "How you can you be so calm about being lied to?" Cam demanded, while Brennan seethed silently, her thoughts bordering on murderous. "As if the two of you weren't already under enough scrutiny – the FBI is uncertain if they want to keep the contract with the Jeffersonian as long as you work here – this will cinch the deal."
"What?" that was Angela, who was now on her feet. "Brennan is the best they've got! This whole team solves cases the rest of the world would give up on. Have they all been smoking something at Quantico?"
Cam whirled. Angela's invisibility had been working right up until she defended Tempe. "Oh shhh--" Cam began to rub the space between her brows. "It's far too early to need a drink this bad," she grumbled.
"They can't be questioning Dr. Brennan's work," Angela pressed on, without explaining how she'd come be present for the exchange.
"How many other FBI consultants do you imagine have to fit bi-weekly visits to a Government Shrink into their schedules?" Cam responded. "They don't like Brennan and Booth's dynamic, and they don't like fact that each managed to kill a suspect in the same serial case in less than a year's time."
"Booth tried to save Epps," Tempe pointed out. "And if I hadn't shot Lappin, he would have killed Booth. What choice did we have?"
"I know that," Cam replied with a long-suffering sigh. "Try telling that to the bureaucrats though. Bureaucrats will drive you out of your mind. Why do you think I'm so cranky this morning? Between the press and pencil-pushers, I'm wondering what ever made me nuts enough to take this job. I think I'm two cuckoos shy of flying over" Angela grinned and Tempe tried to process the metaphor – it was probably a movie reference or something. "It's barely 10:30 and I've had my – uhh – well I've had my ass handed to me so many times I'm beginning to wonder if I have more than one."
Tempe snorted, and all three of them began to laugh. "Could be worse," Angela remarked. "They could hand you someone else's ass." Tempe nodded and pointed at the body on the table. The only side still intact was his back half – literally bones, and the best insulated flesh. "Point taken," Angela replied, while Cam struggled not laugh, failing miserably.
That was the moment Booth appeared, forcing a smile that seemed disingenuous under the circumstances. His reception could not have been colder. Instantly, the laughter stopped, and Angela turned her nose up at him and walked out. Cam glared and muttered, "Speak of the devil – heavy on the devil." Tempe turned away and began to gather equipment, half-afraid she might actually call him an ass if she opened her mouth, and still slightly torn by that same emotion that she'd been fighting since she saw the state of his church.
Cam didn't let him say a word. "You owe me an explanation. My office, now!" She whirled and walked out, certain he would follow. Booth did follow, wearing a look of defeat.
"Poor Booth," Angela remarked.
"Poor Booth?" Tempe repeated incredulously. "He brought it on himself."
"Yeah, maybe," Angela said, nodding. "But really, what else could he do? This is personal. It's as personal to him as your father's case is to you."
"But I followed the rules. We still processed the body."
"No offense, sweety, but that kinda' makes you a freak. Most of us don't compartmentalize when we're personally involved."
Tempe met Angela's gaze, wondering if she was actually compartmentalizing today. "He's not even acting like himself," Tempe admitted. "Usually when he flaunts authority, he's the first to announce it."
Angela grinned, her eyes dancing. "Cock of the roost, crowing his deeds?"
"If the metaphor works…"
Tempe turned her attention to the body, thinking again about the evidence collected so far. She was pretty sure it would turn out to be a priest. DNA might be a simple way to identify him, although priests tended not to be catalogued, unless they had been ill enough to need extensive medical care. One wasn't likely to find priests on a criminal DNA track – or at least that's what catholic public relations would say. Of course, there were always exceptions. Always.
"I'd let Cam take the lead on this autopsy," Angela remarked.
Tempe looked back at her. "I am a fully qualified pathologist," she reminded. "I just prefer to work with bones only. "
"I'm not questioning your expertise, just suggesting it would help smooth things over with Cam. Let her take some of her power back."
"And I should just twiddle my thumbs until Cam is done?"
Angela closed her mouth and gave her a compassionate smile. "No, get some rest, Sweety. Use your mind in another way. Do interviews with Boothe. Anything. Just give Cam some space.
Booth and Cam reentered the cold room. Booth looked cowed while Cam was clearly angry. "I'll let you know when I've finished my preliminary," Cam told Booth.
He nodded. "I'll be interviewing witnesses, but I'll keep my phone handy."
Tempe took an involuntary step backward, uncertain where she fit into the plan, or even if she wanted to fit in.
"Dr. Brennen?" Booth began. Was that respect? "Will you tag along?"
"Why?" she'd sounded cross and his face seemed to drop further.
"Because I need you."