In the Blink of An Eye
By LizD
Winter 2011
Chapter 10
A/N: Lots of things for Booth to think about while he is working Rebecca's case coming up in this chapter. And good news, the hit counter is back up on FF(dot)net. But please, keep those reviews coming. Makes all this loss of sleep more worth it.
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Booth walked into Brennan's office. She wasn't there. The platform was empty. The light in the pathology lab was off. There was no one around. For all intents and purposes, it was the middle of the night at the Jeffersonian and the guards were the only ones working.
"Can I help you?" Joe asked walking up to Booth with his hand on the gun at his hip.
Booth nearly drew on him. There was a time when Booth knew all the guards by first name, knew something about their home lives and often had bets to pay or collect on some recent sporting event. Booth wasn't supposed to be gambling, but he always let the other guy make the bet and he just accepted out of camaraderie (easier than explaining about a problem that was never really a problem; he never went to a GA meeting). It was never more than five bucks anyway; it could hardly be considered gambling. But the guy in front of Booth with his hand on his 9mm was a stranger - or was it Booth who was the stranger?
"HEY," Booth put up both hands defensively. "Booth, FBI. I'm looking for Bones … er .. um … Dr. Brennan."
"I need to see your ID." Joe noticed the gun under Booth's arm and pulled his. "SLOWLY. TWO FINGERS."
Booth pulled his ID out of his pocket and flipped it open.
Joe lowered his weapon. "Sorry Agent, but you can't be too careful."
"Right," Booth was annoyed. Who was going to break into the Jeffersonian in the middle of the night guns a-blazing? "Understand perfectly."
"There were some guys hanging around earlier. Had to shove 'em off."
"Very glad you were here. Any idea who they were? Or what they wanted?" Booth had no idea why he was engaging this guy. "What's your name?"
"Darrow, Joseph Darrow." He cocked his head slightly. "Joe. Dr. Brennan is expecting you. She's in the Bone room. I can take you down there."
"I know the way," Booth said.
Yes, he knew the way – or he used to. He used to be a regular at the lab and knew every nook and cranny. He'd waste hours there waiting for Bones to finish some test that he didn't understand, waiting for her to head out for dinner, coming to see her for any number of reasons many of which were not case related. Like a gentle caller waiting in the parlor for his lady love.
But he hadn't been to the lab in months – not since he left for Afghanistan. There was that one time with the Science Dude but that really didn't count. It wasn't a conscious thought; he wasn't avoiding the lab or any of the people there – at least he didn't think so. But ever since he had been back he felt really uncomfortable thinking about that place. It was where the human remains went to be dissected, studied, analyze in every minute detail. There were dead bodies, body bits and bones lain out clinically; like they were objects and not people anymore. The truth was – of course – the bodies, bits of bodies and bones weren't people anymore. They were the remains of people; what the people couldn't take with them. The evidence left behind to tell the tale of a life and death.
Booth had seen death in his life – people he knew, people he loved, people he had never met. He had taken lives and he had saved lives. Yes, Booth had experienced death in all its facets. It had been his stock and trade for nearly two decades. He had gone from being a killer to being a catcher of killers. Going back to Afghanistan threw his 'cosmic balance sheet' out of whack again. In fact it did more than that – it made him realize how good he was at taking a life. He hated that side of himself; he hated that he was good at it. Ostensibly He had gone back to train, to save lives, to help soldiers come home safely. But that was not quite what happened. This time he wasn't on a hill over a thousand yards away. This time he was standing within a yard or two. This time he could see their faces, look in their eyes, smell their fear mixed with his own. This time the killing, the death messed with his head in a way he couldn't accept. He couldn't reconcile the RIGHTEOUSNESS of it in his mind. That's why he came home. He said it was for Parker, but he really came home for himself, to save himself. He had to get away from that senseless killing; he couldn't be a part of it. He had to get away from the bodies and bits of bodies that where killed knowing that there would be no catching the killers.
But home was no better. He went right back to work trading in death; at least he was catching killers rather than adding to the body count. But the bodies still affected him. He went to crime scenes but stayed as far away as possible from the remains and that meant not going to the lab. The lab was death – analytical, sterile death. The lab was bones and Bones. The lab was her home, her space, her domain. He had to stay away the lab and her. There was no separating the two: Bones and Death. He didn't want to be there. He didn't belong there. He didn't belong with her. She didn't want him - until she did.
Booth snapped himself out of his thoughts. He couldn't allow himself to think that much; not like he did in Afghanistan. In Afghanistan he wallowed in it, nearly losing himself, until he met Hannah. She was life; she was full of life. She was alive. Hannah had pulled him out of the death and bodies back to life. Then she followed him home and did the same thing. She brought life to his existence. But now that she was gone, he couldn't wallow. He had to work. He had to find a killer. He had to find Rebecca's killer. And to do that, he needed to be at the lab. He needed Bones.
He walked into the bone room and stopped dead just beyond the threshold. There was a body on a gurney covered with a sheet. It had to be Rebecca. It had to be what Rebecca had left behind. He gasped audibly.
"Booth, what are you doing down here?" Brennan turned to check that Rebecca was covered. "Go up to my office, I'll meet you up there."
"I'm fine, Bones."
"Booth, you have no color in your face. You're exhausted. You're about to fall down. You shouldn't see her like this. Please, go up to my office. I will be right there."
He was about to argue, but she was right. He was about to fall down. He needed to sit down and a shot of scotch wouldn't hurt either. He wondered if she still kept a bottle in her office.
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Brennan came in a few minutes later. Booth had found the scotch and had poured himself a stiff one. Brennan frowned. Alcohol would not help.
"What else have you found out?" she asked opting not to scold him.
"Not much ... There is a big project that Rebecca was working on. The Bridge project, I am sure you have heard of it."
"I have ... but I don't understand."
"Government funded, lots of jobs, lots of money to get misappropriated. I saw it a lot in Afghanistan. The money would rarely get to where it was intended. Civilian contractors doing sub-standard work. Money makes people crazy. Where is your girl - Carroll, Lacey Carroll?"
"Cam took her down to get some food. They should be back in a minute."
Booth leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. "Food ... I don't think I have eaten since lunch."
"You didn't have much then either," she noted sitting down next to him. She put her hand on his. "Can I get you something ... something other than scotch?"
"No," he said pressing her hand. "Everything I eat has no flavor." He looked up at her. "Listen to me, complaining about bad food when you have been working for days ... working and taking care of me."
"I ate earlier."
"That's not what I mean."
"I haven't done much."
"You've done plenty - trust me - just knowing that you were there, are there." He pressed her hand again. "And now this thing with Rebecca ... I don't trust anyone buy you to tell me the truth of this."
"I'll do what I can." She got up and moved away from him. The way he was talking to her, looking at her, touching her - it was intensely intimate.
Booth felt her physical loss. He needed to engage her again. He noticed that her glass board was back and it looked like she was outlining a new book. He nodded to it. "Another Kathy Reichs novel?"
"No ... It was going to be but I have decided to create all new characters." She had made that decision only hours before. She tried to tell herself that it had nothing to do with her relationship or lack thereof with Booth, but that was not the truth. "It's set in Ireland," she said as if she were adding to the reasonableness of not writing another Kathy/Andy book.
"Clean slate, huh? That's got to be good - freeing."
"Yes, very much so. Can create new dynamics between new characters. I'm a more experienced writer now. I won't write myself into corners as much. I will create opportunities and make the most of them." She glanced away. His eyes were too intense. "This time it will be told in the third person. I'm done with the first person narrative."
"That will give you more control too. You can know what everyone is thinking."
"I hadn't thought about it that way, but you're correct." She looked down.
It finally dawned on Booth that whole new characters meant that Agent Andy Lister would not be in her book. In spite of her chronic protests, he knew he was the inspiration for Agent Andy. Brennan was writing him out of her fantasy life too. A wave of loss crashed over him again - how much can one man lose?
"I have a trip planned to Ireland to meet with an archeologist there. He has been helping me via email, but we thought we should meet." She didn't want to explain about Bog Bodies to Booth. It was unimportant. "I leave in four days."
"What?" Booth was taken off guard. "Four days?"
"I won't leave until we have solved this case with Rebecca," she assured him.
Booth wasn't assured. In fact he felt more alone. He stood up and moved toward the door. "I'm going to go find Cam and little Lacey Carroll. I have more than a few questions for her."
"I'll go with you."
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They found Cam and Lacey in the cafeteria drinking coffee. Cam looked wrung out. Booth who was prepared to go as hard on Lacey as he could get, softened when he saw how young and scared she was. Maybe she was caught up in all of this too. Maybe she was targeted too. But she had a strange way of getting that help and that was suspicious.
Cam rose when she saw them enter. She hugged Booth and told him how sorry she was. She pulled Brennan off to the side to give her the findings of the tox report.
"I am having them run it again. There were a lot of drugs in her system, most were from the hospital but there was something else that wasn't. She had an opiate in her system and that was not consistent with the treatment of a head injury. And the concentration seemed too high."
"What opiate are you talking about?"
"Morphine. I want to request her medical chart but as this is not a case and we have no jurisdiction, the next of kin will have to do that and that could take time."
Brennan nodded. This backroom investigation would have to become official before they could go any further. "Thank you, Dr. Saroyan."
"You'll tell, Booth?" Brennan nodded. "I'm going to lie down for a bit in the lounge. Call me if you need me and I will be here when we are ready to take the next step."
The next step would be a full autopsy and analysis of the last day of Rebecca's life. Booth would need to investigate everything else. It should really be turned over to another agent that was if they could show that Rebecca's death was murder and that it was within the federal jurisdiction.
Brennan joined Booth and Lacey; she stood behind him with her hand on his shoulder. It was comforting to both of them. Booth had done all the soft ball questions and a bit of warming up. Brennan liked to think of them as the control questions, Booth had always thought of them as the rapport questions so 'why lie.' Brennan never pointed out that they were saying the same thing.
"So Ms. Carroll," he said. "You lied to us and not very well. Do you want to tell me why?"
Lacey didn't look as caught as Booth thought she would have. In fact she looked relieved that he had found her out. "So you know."
"That you and Rebecca were in contact for at least two weeks before her death, yes I know. You knew I would find out."
Her eyes filled with water. "I'm sorry, Mr. Booth," she said. "Ms Stinton was a wonderful woman. She was helping me and it got her killed."
"How was she helping you?"
"I'm sure you know by now that I don't work at the coroner's office." She looked to Brennan. "I'm sorry I lied. I didn't know how else to get this information to you and they wouldn't patch me through to Mr. Booth."
"If you wanted to hide your identity, you wouldn't have used your real name," Brennan said. Booth took her hand from his shoulder and directed her to the chair beside his. He released it slowly.
"Right," Lacey looked down and then back up at Booth. "I would for an environmental survey company. I was assigned to Kirkland Construction. My findings on The Bridge project - you have heard of it?" She waited for them to nod. "Well they showed that the impact of that project on the ecosystem, the water table, the wild life in the reserved areas would be radically affected ... in effect killing that whole ecosystem. There are further reaching effects. In less than thirty years the entire area on both sides of the bridge would change such that it would be unable to support not only the bridge but the proposed housing and businesses developed. The natural erosion of the river bank would be kicked into high gear. There are further reaching effects, but I can't prove those. Only time will tell. But by then it would be too late."
"If that were true, then the project would have been scrapped."
"My report was buried, altered ... changed. I'm embarrassed to say this but my bosses were bought off."
"How did Rebecca get involved?"
"When I knew what was happening, I contacted her. We had worked together several times in the past. She was honest and fair minded. I really liked her." She wiped at her eyes. "I thought she would know what to do. We double checked my work and had another analyst at a different agency review my findings. He corroborated everything I said. About a week ago he was killed in a single car accident. They said he was drunk. Ephraim didn't drink. He was allergic to alcohol. I have known him since I was in college. That's when I got scared. I haven't been home since then. Ms Stinton and I were deciding what to do next. She told me about you, Agent Booth. That you were FBI."
"You had suggested that I not contact Booth when you first arrived," Brennan stated reaching over to touch his arm. "Why are you changing your story?"
"I don't know," she protested. "I don't. I'm scared. Ephraim clearly asked too many questions of the wrong people and it got him killed. They have to know by now that I am the ... the what? I don't even know what it's called."
"The leak."
"The whistle blower."
"Whatever ... they have to be coming after me. Look what they did to Ms Stinton." She looked at Booth. "I am so sorry." She broke down into tears.
Booth was not impressed with her show of sorrow. "How did you get the X-Rays?"
"I have a friend at the coroner's office. I won't tell you who it is."
"We'll find out, Ms Carroll," Booth stated.
Brennan nodded. "It won't be hard to find out. Each set of X-rays has a technician's ID on it."
Lacey shook her head. "Do we really have to involve him? I don't want him to lose his job - or worse."
Booth again took the lead. "We will find out eventually, and if we can they can. If he needs protection, you shouldn't waste anymore time."
Lacey looked back and forth between them. "Stuart Johnson."
"I will need the names of the people you work for and anything else you can remember."
"I wrote everything down. I have all my notes - everything I could get."
"Where is it?"
"In my car."
"Is it here?"
"No." She again washed with fear. "I left it at the office ... at Kirkland Construction. It is a maroon Prius." She pulled the keys from her pocket and handed them to Booth. "I can't go back there. I can't go home. Will you help me?"
Booth nodded. "She can't stay here," he said.
"She's safe at the Jeffersonian," Brennan stated. "Let's take her back to my office and she can lie down."
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Brennan handed Booth some coffee and they sat down at the table in the lounge.
"I need to go," he said sadly taking a sip and swallowing hard. "Parker will be up soon."
"What will you tell him?"
"I don't know." He looked up at her. "I know you are an advocate of the truth, but in this case, at least at this time, I don't have the truth. I have speculation, and a lot more missing facts than solid evidence." He wiped his hands over his face. "How the hell am I going to tell him that his mother was murdered?"
Brennan didn't have an answer. She reached across the table and put her hand on his arm and squeezed gently. She couldn't help herself. She had an overpowering need to protect him, help him, comfort him. She loved him. Regardless of his feelings for her - she loved him. She would rather feel the sadness of not having him even the way they were, than the nothing she would experience if she locked those feelings away. Metaphorically, a door had been opened in her heart and it wouldn't be closed no matter how much pain it caused her.
"I need to open a case on this. I need to get the FBI to agree to take jurisdiction. They won't let me head the investigation, but ..."
"You will be involved, Booth."
He put his hand over hers.
"I will keep you involved."
Their eyes locked - deep, pain filled, grateful brown locked with empathetic, loving blue. They lost themselves. They lost the time, the place, the circumstances. At that moment, for that all too brief space of time, they were connected more intimately and profoundly than any words or actions could attest. Neither wanted to move from that moment; neither had the strength to sustain it - not yet.
They looked away at the same moment but both were fully aware of what was between them - at least what could be if life, ego and fear didn't again interfere.
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