They all thought her cold, aloof, hard hearted. But she knew the truth, she was about the only one who knew the truth. She was the one who knew that at the end of the night, she wrote about them, gave them they're names back, they're faces back, they're identy back. She dreamed of them, the way they once look, and then she would write, sometimes what she found, or saw, other times what she had dreamnt, and other times she gave them a happy story. She knew that, and she wondered how she hid it so well, and how did no one else see it? when she did? She walked to Brennan's office, they had been best friends since the first they met, her the ditsy artist, and Bren the smart geek. It was always impossible to get her to go out anywhere, and college had been no different, she would rather have stayed in her dorm reading all her science books. But Angela had to go out, it was the life of the artist..after all how could you paint if you didn't see anything? Somehow they had become the best of friends balancing each other out.
"How you holding up?"
"His wife doesn't believe it was him, I've got to give her an ID."
And immediately she knew, it would be an all nighter for Brennan, but she was not getting off the hook so easily.
"And about this weekend…"
"Angela I don't know."
"Oh come on."
"I don't know."
"Brennan I know this great club, they play Trip Hop and Trance."
"I don't know what that means."
"It doesn't matter. We'll grab Booth."
"No."
"I think he likes you. God if I were you, I'd buy a ticket on that ride."
If Angela was here know, she would realize just how wrong she was, Was Brennan's first thought. Him in his unbuttoned shirt, her with her long blonde hair, long slim legs, cheerleader. That was her exact first thought when she rounded the corner. And once again Brennan was back in high school, the gangly awkward girl, no match for the pretty teenager. Greg, that had been his name, she had tutuored him on his math, and he had liked her. But he was the running back for the high school football team and she wasn't even in the vacinty of a cheerleader so that had meant one thing, no prom. She never saw the point anyway, getting dressed up for a night because the following year you would be a senior, in which case you would then get a senior prom, all because it was your last year of high school. What was the point? it wasn't like the end of your life, there was college and careers, what about those dances? And just like she had easily compartmentalized prom and Greg and cheerleaders. And in a matter of minutes one man was able to bring her back to high school. She really didn't like him. Angela was way off on this one. She would never be the cheerleader.
She would never understand. He had killed a man tonight, and it didn't matter that he had a bomb or that he killed his brother, or that he had an affair with his brother's wife before killing him, what mattered was he killed him. He didn't want to go home. She would be there, and she would look at him with that closed off look, that haunted look like she was afraid of him. And he would make it alright and they would move off into they're own little world where they didnt talk about it and eat and smile and all would be forgotten, unspoken of. He really didn't want to go home. He looked at the person to his right. She brought up Tessa alot, did it bother her? that he had someone? why? why should it? and yet he sensed that it did.
"You want to get another drink?"
....."I would buy a ticket on that ride." said the red angela on her left shoulder
...Your not a cheerleader." said the white gowned Brennan on her right.
....he is there for the taking honey.".....
She could do it, she could be the cheerleader, for one night, just one night, she could be the cheerleader. ....Then what? what about tomorrow? and cases and files? crimes? what would they have then? they would have her and him and ...Tessa? no. she was no cheerleader, and she never would be.
"Shouldn't you be getting home? Tessa will be worried about you."