A Girl and a Doctor
by Rondabunny
Hospital, next day 10:30
Dr. Brennan and Booth were wlking along the hospital hall listening to the doctor, who spoke about his patient.
"The girl was brought to the hospital about 19:00 o'clock. Somebody called 911 and they brought her here. She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, if the proverb suits this example. You know a broken arm and some ribs but that definitely saved her life," told the doctor entering the room.
The girl was lyig in bed. She was as pale as a ghost. She didn't fight the tubes anymore. Irene opened her eyes and greeted the trio.
"Hey, how are you doing?" asked Booth sitting at the side of the bed.
"Like a button," answered the girl in a hoarse voice. Booth and Brennan looked at her puzzled, "want to run into a loop."
"Don't' be so pessimistic. Everything's gonna be alright," snorted Booth. "Who shot you?"
"I didn't see. I was shot in the back."
"Yes, and it saved your life," said the doctor matter-of-factly. "Her orthopedic corset, especially spinal support of it stopped the bullet. She was shot directly in her spinal column. Though, the second bullet hit her muscular artery on the left arm right above the plaster. She's lost a lot of blood."
"You're a lucky one. You'd left the hospital just right before the killer came to shoot you," said Booth.
"What? He came to the hospital?" asked Irene surprised by Booth's remark.
"Yes. Now, would you tell us the names or you want to end in a dirty alley with a bullet in your head?"
"I found what they'd been looking for." Booth made a gesture for the doctor to leave the room. The girl continued: "My mom wasn't just a drug addict. She had been selling drugs for two months. Not for money, for a doze. Day after day she needed a greater shot. She got drugs but she didn't sell them. She used them herself."
"Oh, baby, it's a crap. I need evidence and you give me nothing but suppositions," replied Booth standing. "Give me the names, describe their appearance, give me connections, people involved, anything!" He started walking from corner to corner.
"You're the cop! It's your job to find bad guys and to drag them into prison, right?! Work on my mother's connections!" Irene answered outrageously too tired to sound convincing.
"Irene, how many clients did your mother have at night? Yes, I can question her pimp but as I understand she was a loaner. Did she have any lasting relationship? You have to understand that I need something solid than a story. Who broke you bones? Have you seen them?" asked Booth staring at the girl.
"Yes, I don't know who are they but I can draw their portraits."
"You're kidding, right!" chuckled Booth. "You're what a professional painter? My son Parker can also draw me a portrait. He's a 6 year-old."
"Give me a piece of paper and a pencil. I'll show you," said the girl sitting up and comfortably leaning against the pillow.
"Irene, you're hardly breathing. Look at yourself, you need a rest," said Brennan.
"No, please, give me a chance. I can do it," replied the girl. Brennan took a sheet of paper from her folder and a pen and gave it to Irene. It was inconvenient to draw with the pen but the girl managed to make a great portrait of a tall, dark haired man wearing a leather jacket, big boots with steel clinchers, jeans, and a tattoo on his left hand. The clothes were depicted in detail. The face was drawn vaguely in small touches to make the silhouette of the nose, eyes and the mouth.
"Wow, you're brilliant, the second Angela," told Booth taking the picture.
"Believe me I have a long way to become Michelangelo," replied the girl.
"No, he didn't say Michelangelo, but Angela, she is our forensic artist. She restores faces of dead people," informed Brennan.
"Oh…" was the girl's reply.
"The picture is great. You're fantastic except that I can't see his face," said Booth examining the picture.
"Here" Girl handed Dr. Brennan another picture. It was Brennan's portrait. Her features were depicted correctly but it resembled an image taken by an unfocussed camera. Brennan looked at the picture then at Irene and exclaimed: "You have myopia."
"What is it?" asked the girl.
"It's shortsightedness," answered Booth.
"Probably, I see everything blurry."
"That's what Bones mean."
"I didn't help, right?" the girl asked in a soft voice.
"You did, we have the tattoo and his clothes. You have to draw the others and tell me his approximate height," said Booth.
"You know better than me that it's bullshit!" replied the girl.
"Take it easy. I'll do anything I can to find those guys, I promise," Booth assured her.
"Somebody wants me dead because I saw them killing my mother! I can't prove it because of my damn, stupid eyes! I'll be dead by tomorrow. They'll come to the hospital and shoot me in cold blood and you can't do anything about it!" girl cried feeling her helpless situation.
"So, you've seen how they killed your mother?" asked Booth with interest.
"Yes. I've heard them asking her about heroine they'd given her. They questioned her about the money and heroine and beat her. She screamed, begged them to let her go, told that she'd bring the money but the big guy kicked her and kicked. She yelled then moaned and after the last kick remained silent," Irene breathed heavily and crumpled the sheets on her bed only not to cry, not to show her emotions. Brennan took girl's hand in hers to soothe the pain. Girl pulled it away.
"You're our witness. I can work with this," said Booth breaking the silence.
"Mr. Booth, I'm no one. I'll be dead the minute you leave the building. You can't help me," Irene replied sadly.
"Yeah, you're right."
"Why? Can you explain to me?" asked Brennan misunderstanding.
"Bones, it's simple. I can't afford security to guard her. Firstly, she doesn't have proper vision to be a principal witness; secondly, she's an orphan, her mother was a prostitute, the jury will make light of her testimony." Booth told Brennan.
"So, what? She's a witness of her mother's murder," Brennan insisted.
"I'm under age. I need a guardian or a guarantee," answered the girl.
"There are different child care institutions such as orphan-asylum, foster system," said Brennan giving the examples of institutions she didn't even like at all.
"Bones, she has been shot twice in the hospital and in the street. Somebody wants her dead! They're after her, give me at least one adult eager to keep an eye on her and not to become a victim of the gang. I put her in an orphanage and put the guard there and I cannot guarantee that she wouldn't be killed by someone from inside!" explained Booth as if Brennan was a five year old kid.
"I'll do it!" told Brennan looking at Booth.
"What?"
"I'll be her guardian. I'll adopt her till we find those bastards." said Brennan firmly.
"It's dangerous," replied agent Booth trying to reason his partner but then changed his opinion. "You know what, I'll help you."
Irene thanked both of them.
Two days passed after Dr. Brennan adopted the girl. Angela worked with the picture and tried to find the man. Booth worked at the relationships of Madeline Weiss, questioned people almost men she'd been with, questioned her friends and drug-addicts who knew her well. They haven't managed to find anything.
Hospital, 18:00
Brennan came into the room and found the girl watching a quiz-show on TV. Irene "talked" with the TV-set. She answered the questions before players in the game did and then commented on their stupidity. When Irene saw Brennan she switched off the TV.
"Hello," greeted the girl.
"Hi. You look better today," said Brennan putting a bag on the floor and sitting down on the chair next to the girl's bed.
"Have you found anything?" asked Irene curiously.
"No, not much," said Brennan taking out things from the bag. "I've been at your apartment and took some clothes for you. For the girl of your age you don't have much to wear."
"It's because agent Booth took my satchel when you questioned me at FBI. I've packed almost all my stuff there. Ask Booth where it is," replied the girl.
"I'll ask him. Anyway, it doesn't matter because I went to the shot and bought everything. Here is underwear, t-shirts, jeans, socks, slippers. I think they'll fit. You're not taller than 5 feet 1 inch and you're skinny. So…" told Brennan giving Irene the clothes.
"Thanks." Irene looked at clothes and took them away in the built-in closet. Brennan also brought her textbooks, note-books from the apartment and she bought her pens and pencils.
"You can study by yourself while you're in the hospital. The ward is guarded. So, you won't have any intruders." said the forensic anthropologist.
"Right. How long should I stay here?" asked the girl.
"The doctor says you can go home at the end of the week."
"Great! I need to rent a room. It'll be hard to find a job, 'cause of this stupid plaster and corset, but I can gather bottles, beer-cans, plastic. I'll survive," she plopped on the bed talking about her future plans. Brennan looked at her like at an alien.
"Irene, hello! These guys are after you. And you forget about one big thing I'm your foster-parent. This means I'm responsible for you!" said Brennan.
"Oh, come on! You don't' really think I'll be living at your apartment. I can take care of myself."
"I see, plastered arm, broken ribs, two bullet-shots within twenty-four hours. You can definitely take care of yourself," Brennan nodded folding her arms in front of her.
"So, what do you want me to do?"
"To be in the hospital until I'll come and take you on Friday."
"I don't wanna owe you anything. I'm not a child," told the girl stubbornly.
"Not yet a woman."
"You don't know about that," said the girl emphasizing the word "that".
"You're thirteen. I can bet on it," replied Brennan.
"Girls in India marry at age of 7, because of the fertility cult."
"Oh, I'm impressed. Although it was in the Medieval Period, now the emancipation and human rights forbid men to marry girls under 18, but there are several states, especially in rural districts of India, which still obey the cult," corrected Brennan. "By the way, it's for you." She gave Irene a present wrapped in the paper.
"What for? Today is not a holiday and not my birthday," answered Irene surprised. She took the present cautiously as if it was made of glass.
"Your birthday was three days ago. Come on, open it!"
Irene unwrapped the paper carefully and took the book in her hand.
"It's Edgar Allan Poe! Cool! Thank you so much." Girl's eyes shone with pleasure. She caressed the book with her hand like a pet.
"I'm glad that you like it. Have you read this author?" asked Brennan with interest.
"Some of his stories. I like his style."
"Yes, me too," replied Dr. Brennan. "Ok. I'll come maybe tomorrow. Bye."
"Thanks for everything, Dr. Brennan. Bye."
Thursday, Hospital
Agent Booth entered the room with a smile playing on his lips. He took the chair and sat near Irene's bed.
"We've found the guy," he exclaimed.
Irene put away her book and asked: "You've found the killer?"
"Yes, Angela worked on the tattoo and found 155 men in our city only 54 of them having it on the hand but 3 living in your neighborhood. I've checked those three and found this one," he gave the picture to the girl, "he sells drugs. I found the gun in his apartment. The bullets are identical to those we've already had. He's your shooter," said Booth satisfied with his work.
Girl just nodded. She listened to Booth but her thoughts were far away. She remembered Brennan talking about the adoption "I'll adopt her till we find those bastards." Now "the bastard" is in jail. It meant that tomorrow Brennan would come with a social worker and Irene had to go to an orphanage or into the system. The girl gave a deep sigh, thanked Booth for "great news" and continued reading her book.
To be continued…