Author's Note: Thanks for being so patient. I'm not the fastest updater. I write out my chapters by hand first, and then type them up, which is time consuming, yet works best for me. Here's chapter 2, the Baby Shower. Sorry by the way that the references didn't work at the end of last chapter. If you're really curious as to where I got my information, or find my information to be incorrect, leave it in a review.
Disclaimer: This story is mine. That's all. The Pictionary scene is from the movie, Pictionary belongs to its creators, and Bones, you know the drill.
I eventually agreed, for Angela's sake, that I would attend her shower, on the condition that I could first tie up a few loose ends on our latest case. In speaking with the gentleman who had filed the missing person's report, our victim, 18 year old Kevin Gardner, lived in a group home for mentally unstable adolescents. Mr. Gardner had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder shortly after the loss of his parents and sister in an arson-related house fire. He was known to exhibit four distinct personalities, all with their own names, interests, and backgrounds. Two of the four were said to have raging tempers and were prone to violence. The head of the home speculated that one of his personalities had perhaps provoked someone to the point of a struggle, Kevin himself being a very kind, gentle man, or that he had simply "tried to make it all go away."
As I sat at the platform, examining the bones for any self-inflicted wounds that could be indicative of suicidal ideation, I cogitated on the idea of multiple personalities. Don't we all exhibit them? Generally speaking, don't we behave differently at work than we do in the comfort of our own homes? We come across differently when speaking with strangers than we do in our own social circles. We might use formalities or omit intimate details, but we are not less ourselves for doing so, especially since we are the ones dictating these behaviors. It's a method of self protection. Protection of one's own species is instinctive, not something that I would personally categorize as a mental disorder. Take Booth for example.
Booth has a big heart. Anatomically speaking, his heart is no bigger than yours or mine, unless of course he had cardiomegaly, which is unlikely considering he doesn't fit the general demographic. Anyway, I would characterize Booth as the provider, the people pleaser. He's painfully loyal, which, in terms of our friendship, can be both endearing and extremely irritating. He tries his best to lighten the mood, even when he has no clue what we're talking about, usually leading to his own embarrassment, which he doesn't take well. Out in the field, pursuing suspects, all of those qualities still exist, yet they're masked by duty. While I myself am immune to it, I would imagine that Booth comes across as an intimidating man, especially when holding a gun to your head or interrogating you with those angry eyes and loud voice. Different personality displays, yet, same Booth.
While my subconscious ranting did steal some of my focus away from the remains, I was able to identify some perimortem injuries, ones that we had pegged as defensive wounds, that could very well have been self-inflicted, especially those on the wrists and forearms, but also very possibly the bruising identified on the skull. As I was recording these findings, my cell phone rang.
"Temperance Brennan."
"Bones," Booth said in a hushed voice. "where are you? You're late and Angela's going to be pissed if you blow this off. You made a promise…"
"Restrain your horses, Booth; I'm leaving the Jeffersonian now." Booth laughed and I hung up before he could say anything further.
She must have seen me pull into the extensive driveway of the Hodgins' mansion because she was there to greet me at the door. Given the urgency of Booth's call, I expected her to be angry, yet she welcomed me with a warm smile and a hug. It was the glow again. Apparently, not only was it contagious, but it made one less prone to anger.
"If you really didn't want to play Pin the Sperm on the Egg, you could have just said so," she laughed, leading me into the parlor where the other guests had assembled. Sometimes I was bothered by how well she knew me, despite my excellent ability to compartmentalize. While new information on the case was the primary reason for my tardiness, I'd be lying if I said I had been looking at all forward to submitting myself to a child-like state, being blindfolded, spun, and aimlessly fumbling to place a tag-board sperm cutout onto the corresponding tag-board egg whilst trying to regain my equilibrium. What's the point?
I surveyed the group. Not a huge gathering. Just the Jeffersonian team, Booth, Hannah, Sweets, and two unfamiliar couples whom I assumed were neighbors. I chose a seat next to Booth who was indulging in a piece of cake, presumably the cake that Hannah had gone to great lengths to provide.
"You've gotta try this, Bones," he said with his mouth full. "It's heavenly. It's like…sex on a plate."
"I'm sure your dessert is delicious, but I wanted to update you on the case. It appears that—"
Booth cut me off with a wave of his fork. "I don't want to hear, Bones. I'll give you two excellent reasons why. Reason number one, I'm eating. Spare me the gruesome details while I'm digesting. And if, for some reason, you happen to know when I'm done digesting, don't tell me here. That's reason number two. We're at a party, Bones, a party! Nobody wants to hear that, except maybe Clark over there who looks like he's having about as much fun as…something that doesn't have a lot of fun…"
"That was a poorly executed simile, Booth. You're going to have to work on that." I told him.
Hodgins cleared his throat to catch everyone's attention, but the chatter continued. He cleared his throat again. No response. That's when Angela stood up and whistled through her fingers and the group instantly quieted. "I've got it from here," she assured him. She stood in front of a large white board that Hodgins had wheeled in from the other room. "Now that everyone has arrived," she said, flashing a smile in my direction, "we can move on to our next game. I know we've had to reject a few games already due to the heavy squint bias, but this one gives no unfair advantage. Baby Pictionary. It's simple. Baby related phrases are listed on note cards. Draw out the phrase for your team to guess."
We were then split into two teams, the couples being divided up between them. My team consisted of Daisy, Booth, Hodgins, Vincent, the woman from the first unknown couple, and the gentleman from the second. A coin toss determined that Angela's team would start. She had said that there was no unfair advantage, but there clearly was when she was drawing.
After a few rounds, it had come to be Daisy's turn to draw for our team. She picked up her card and smiled broadly, almost knowingly. She held up two fingers, indicating a two word phrase. Picking up a marker, she drew a circle, giving it what appeared to be eyes and a mouth, plus a little sprig of hair. I tilted my head to the side, looking at it from a different angle. Despite her knowledge of anatomy, her proportions were all wrong and it certainly did not resemble anything I had ever seen.
Hodgins got excited, spouting out possible answers. "It's a monkey, it's a monkey…Monkey see Monkey Do…It's an Ape! Going Ape!"
Unknown woman number one chimed in next. "It's a baby!" Daisy nodded enthusiastically, writing the word above the image.
"Planet of the Apes!" Hodgins exclaimed, trying to hold in a fit of laughter. Booth shook his head in apparent annoyance.
"Planet of the Apes? She just said it was a baby. How 'bout planet of the dopes?"
"Well it doesn't look like a baby…"
Next, Daisy drew what looked to me like a pair of wax lips. I was growing all the more confused, not only by the drawing, but by the flow of conversation. This was Baby Pictionary. One would think that after a few rounds, my team would have picked up on the concept.
"It's got a big mouth. Mick Jagger is a baby?" Vincent suggested. He was undoubtedly about to spout off some facts about this Mick Jagger, but was interrupted.
"Baby Ape! Baby Ape!" Hodgins yelled.
"Stop with the apes, would ya?" Booth growled.
The banter went back and forth for awhile and I still hadn't the slightest clue. Guests from both teams were laughing hysterically now, but I clearly was not catching on.
Hodgins stood as though having an epiphany. "Baby fish mouth! Baby fish mouth!" The room went silent in disbelief. I thought maybe he'd guessed it, but this was not a phrase I was familiar with and Daisy continued to draw. Dozens of arrows came from the lips.
Growing frustrated, I said, "Draw something resembling anything!" Again the room went silent. Glances were exchanged and I began to feel uncomfortable. Had I broken a rule?
"Baby talk…" Daisy sighed in resignation.
"Baby talk?" Hodgins asked, seemingly incredulous. "What's that? That's not a saying…"
"Oh, but baby fish mouth is sweeping the nation?" Booth countered. With that, the room erupted into applause, only adding to my confusion. I was fairly sure we had just lost, yet we were celebrating? Angela walked over and slung an arm around my shoulders.
"Chill out, Bren. It was a joke. We were playing out a scene from a movie," she laughed. "When Harry met Sally?"
I shook my head. "I don't know what that means."
"No? Girl, you don't know what you've been missing! That's it. You're staying here tonight and we're totally watching it. Just you and me, some good old fashioned girl time. That can be your gift to me."