Chapter 4: Building a Wall, Brick by Brick

"A collector of mummies will be one."

The man had insisted on the same sandwich shop as before. Zack got there first, and sat by the window, waiting for him. He didn't look at the menu; he just waited. He felt rather lost and adrift being here alone. He always looked at sunlight through glass, so that part was familiar. But usually he didn't have to qualify the weather to himself while doing so. It was very important when engaging in casual conversation with strangers to be prepared to say something about the weather. In Iraq, it was always hot. He did not understand why people felt the need to remark upon something that never changed, but if he pointed it out to them, it didn't go over well. So, he came up with something to say about the weather, if he had to.

But the other man showed up, and Zack smiled, and he smiled back, and that was when Zack noticed that he'd filed his upper canines. At least they looked unnaturally pointy to him, though perhaps it was within the parameters of genetic variation. He'd have to measure to be sure, look for tool marks. Sometimes people with gum disease appeared to have longer teeth. Puzzled, he looked at the menu now, completely forgetting to comment on the weather. He'd order something different this time, so he wouldn't have to compare it to the diner.

"How have you been?" the man asked.

And Zack told him. He was such a good listener. Zack missed not having anyone to share what happened at work with. When he thought about who he'd usually tell these stories to, he realized it was Hodgins. But this man was not like Hodgins. He wouldn't understand things the way Hodgins did. It was strange to miss Hodgins when he worked with him all the time; Zack wondered why that was. When he'd suggested moving out, Hodgins had tried to talk him out of it. They were best friends.

But their food was ready, and Zack remembered that he'd promised not to talk so much. What was he supposed to say, though? "What is your name?" he asked abruptly.

"You can call me Nothos," the man replied.

"Are you illegitimate?"

"You were not kidding about the inappropriate questions," the man said in mild surprise.

"I looked it up," Zack informed him. "It's the Greek word for bastard, or a child who could not inherit under Athenian law. I shouldn't call you that if it's not true," he insisted.

"It's fine for now. Maybe later, I'll give you another name to call me."

"Okay," Zack agreed. It was like Captain Nemo. His meal tasted better this time.

"I'm more surprised you had to look it up; you don't strike me as someone who needs to do that very often."

"I've studied Latin and German, but not Greek. Language isn't really my specialty."

"Tell me about catching the bad guys," Nothos insisted, and Zack fell into talking once again. At least he'd tried to pay attention to the other guy.

He enjoyed recounting things in his own way. At work, he was almost always cut off if he allowed himself too much leeway. But here... "A pitchfork. The murder weapon was a pitchfork. I didn't recognize it at first, because during the process of decomposition the ribcage had shifted. It was difficult to see how the marks from the tines all lined up. I found it very frustrating, but once I finally identified it, it was not hard to locate the weapon, the crime scene and the killer." Zack was proud of his work. He was allowed to discuss it so long as he didn't use names or reveal anything too technical.

"And who was the murderer?"

Zack's face clouded. "He was young. He assisted his ex-girlfriend by hiding a body, but then the father of the dead girl came after him. So, he killed him. He claimed it was an accident, but I don't think it is possible to stab someone in the chest with that much force by accident. It will not go well for him at his trial."

"Is he one of the ones you don't think would have murdered again?"

Zack shook his head. "I don't like to speculate. He certainly is capable of killing a man, because he's done it before. But whether or not he would do so again if we had not caught him? I don't know. It is possible."

"And you. Are you capable of killing a man?"

"I haven't done it before," Zack said quickly. "Why would you think I had?"

"No, I didn't think that." Nothos was smiling at him, the way people did when he missed something obvious and they found it amusing. Unfortunately, knowing that never helped him to identify what he had missed. It did give him an opportunity to observe the canines again, though. The gums looked healthy. "Why does it upset you to talk about murderers?" Nothos continued, changing tack. "You seem so comfortable discussing bones and marks left by weapons."

"I don't deal well with…people. Living ones, I mean. I am strictly a bone person. People confuse me."

"So you don't understand why it is that people would kill?"

Zack should his head. "I don't do motive. I just learn everything there is to learn about the evidence."

"Then we make a good pair; I study people."

Zack took that as an indication of camaraderie, so he smiled.

"I would prefer if you keep our friendship secret. I am a very private person, as you might have gathered," Nothos continued.

Zack looked confused. "What do you mean by private?" Secretly, he was pleased to hear the word 'friend.'

"I just mean that I don't like for other people to know my business or whereabouts."

Zack nodded in understanding. "That is why you will not tell me your name. You're paranoid, like Hodgins."

"I don't think that paranoid…"

Zack corrected himself hastily. "Right, people don't like to be called 'paranoid.' I apologize if I offended you. I will say 'private' in the future."

"So you will keep our meetings private?"

Zack nodded. "As long as no one asks me about you, I have no reason to discuss what we say here."

Nothos gave him a sharp look. "That's not what keeping things private means. Private means you don't tell, regardless of what you are asked."

"You're asking me to...be dishonest?" Zack asked in surprise. "Why would I do that?"

"No, no, not lie. Merely state the truth in such a way that I am not mentioned. Be discrete."

Zack's face cleared. "You mean I should be misleading. Dr. Saroyan assured me that presenting the truth in a way that was meant to mislead was not the same thing as lying. I cannot take responsibility for someone else's misunderstanding; it's their fault for making assumptions and failing to ask for clarification. I can't say I like it, but I suppose I can keep silent."

"That's all I'm asking. You may talk about yourself, just don't mention me."

"That should not be difficult. People seldom ask me about what I do when I am not at the lab. Except my mother. She calls me every week and asks about my work as well as what I do to occupy my free time."

"Did you tell her about me?"

"Yes. I said I met a man at a conference and ate lunch with him. I remarked that you were not disturbed by discussing human remains while eating, which I find is unusual among most people who do not work in my field. I have been told nurses are also like that. Are you a nurse?"

Nothos shook his head impatiently. "Can you tell her that you did not see me again?"

Zack was not compliant. "Clearly, I did see you again."

"Where does your mother live?"

"Michigan; why?"

"I suppose that is alright, then."

"It's alright that she lives in Michigan?"

"It's alright that you talk to her," Nothos clarified. "Just leave out the content of our conversations."

"I will respect your privacy," Zack assured him.

Author's Note: 'Secret in the Soil' was not their most recent case; Zack just felt like talking about it this time.