RegisterThe Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
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The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sat Jul 26, 2008 11:37 am
I'm a kicky kickerson at the forum... so .... here is a story that I'm writing. I will try to post slowly so I don't lose anyone. 
Oh... this will cover from Brennan's school years to Bren/Booth's first case together...
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Part 1
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Northwestern was well known for being at the edge of the newest of forensic science improvements. The newest addition was a four acre field which was strewn with corpses and bodies. Students of all majors: Entomology, Crime Scene Forensics, Pathology, Forensic Anthropology, even Forensic Psychology majors found their way into the "killing fields" as it was called. Such nicknames often found their way among the forensics students. The Living Dead, they were often referred to. The long hours of study often forced them into their dents, only emerging during the day to seek out food and education. Saturday nights and "going out" usually consisted of pizza, study buddies, and and a mountain of text books which obscured the view between one another's' partners.
Professor Milgard led a group of students, six this time around as Forensic Anthropology was not a sought after major, through the Killing Fields. The group trekked through the soft and crunchy autumn leaves, weaving through the labyrinth of decaying bodies and planted evidence. The prof spoke as they made their way through. He was an especially irritating man. He was fat and bald with a very Santa Claus-esque aura about him. That was very deceptive, which drove his students crazy because he was often gruff, short-tempered, and rude. This especially annoyed a particular scholar by the name of Tempe Brennan.
"And whatever you do, do not f--- with the remains." Apparently he did not take care to avoid such four letter words in front of his students. "If you're the FA on the scene, always make a point to the investigators that you are in charge. I hate it when a people compromise my remains." He stopped abruptly in front of a tall oak, causing a skinny sophomore run into his back. The boy backed up quickly, nearly tripping over a corpse.
Milgard had a sixth sense for fear. He could smell it like a bloodhound could smell blood evidence, a corpse, or drugs. He must have smelled it on the blue eyed brunette Senior directly in front of him because he then asked in his usual harsh tone, "Miss Brennan, what is the first thing one does when he or she arrives at the scene?"
"Initial inspection." The answer seemed so easy to her. It had been on the last quiz, after all, but she felt deep within her that there must be something more to this inquisition because Milgard knew she knew that answer. She always knew the answer. She always aced the tests.
"Wrong." He announced. Her cheeks grew hot with a mixture of fury and embarrassment. "Initial inspection is just the icing on the cake, Miss Brennan, but how do you first bake the cake?"
"I'm not good with metaphor, Professor Milgard." She was quick to reply. She knew he knew that. That was what was so infuriating about this man. He knew she was lost when it came to metaphor. That's why he always used that dam- thing whenever he asked her questions. Secretly, Tempe promised herself that if she ever became a professor, she would have a much better bedside manner. She would always praise and never put down.
Oh... this will cover from Brennan's school years to Bren/Booth's first case together...
----------------------------------------------------
Part 1
---------------------------------------------------
Northwestern was well known for being at the edge of the newest of forensic science improvements. The newest addition was a four acre field which was strewn with corpses and bodies. Students of all majors: Entomology, Crime Scene Forensics, Pathology, Forensic Anthropology, even Forensic Psychology majors found their way into the "killing fields" as it was called. Such nicknames often found their way among the forensics students. The Living Dead, they were often referred to. The long hours of study often forced them into their dents, only emerging during the day to seek out food and education. Saturday nights and "going out" usually consisted of pizza, study buddies, and and a mountain of text books which obscured the view between one another's' partners.
Professor Milgard led a group of students, six this time around as Forensic Anthropology was not a sought after major, through the Killing Fields. The group trekked through the soft and crunchy autumn leaves, weaving through the labyrinth of decaying bodies and planted evidence. The prof spoke as they made their way through. He was an especially irritating man. He was fat and bald with a very Santa Claus-esque aura about him. That was very deceptive, which drove his students crazy because he was often gruff, short-tempered, and rude. This especially annoyed a particular scholar by the name of Tempe Brennan.
"And whatever you do, do not f--- with the remains." Apparently he did not take care to avoid such four letter words in front of his students. "If you're the FA on the scene, always make a point to the investigators that you are in charge. I hate it when a people compromise my remains." He stopped abruptly in front of a tall oak, causing a skinny sophomore run into his back. The boy backed up quickly, nearly tripping over a corpse.
Milgard had a sixth sense for fear. He could smell it like a bloodhound could smell blood evidence, a corpse, or drugs. He must have smelled it on the blue eyed brunette Senior directly in front of him because he then asked in his usual harsh tone, "Miss Brennan, what is the first thing one does when he or she arrives at the scene?"
"Initial inspection." The answer seemed so easy to her. It had been on the last quiz, after all, but she felt deep within her that there must be something more to this inquisition because Milgard knew she knew that answer. She always knew the answer. She always aced the tests.
"Wrong." He announced. Her cheeks grew hot with a mixture of fury and embarrassment. "Initial inspection is just the icing on the cake, Miss Brennan, but how do you first bake the cake?"
"I'm not good with metaphor, Professor Milgard." She was quick to reply. She knew he knew that. That was what was so infuriating about this man. He knew she was lost when it came to metaphor. That's why he always used that dam- thing whenever he asked her questions. Secretly, Tempe promised herself that if she ever became a professor, she would have a much better bedside manner. She would always praise and never put down.
ForensicMama- Therapist
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sat Jul 26, 2008 12:25 pm
Part 2
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The group of six were as close knit as they could be under the circumstances. It seemed that FA students were rather antisocial, more out of necessity or mere survival, than design. After class, Tempe found her way to Perk’s Cup, the local coffee shop with the other FA students. She really didn’t like coffee too much before becoming a night owl as her major often required her to be. She sipped a coffee in the corner and read her text book. She found that the bitterness of her coffee was far more interesting than the buzz that was occurring all around her.
“Considering the radiating skull fractures,” said the tall skinny student, Rolf, to Tempe, “woudn’t you say that this was the first injury to occur?”
Tempe took a look onto the crime scene photos that were in his hands. “Yes, I’d say so.” She hated that everyone looked on her for answers to their problems, but she also reveled in the fact that she was looked on as one with a higher intelligence than the others. Not many students came through all of their schooling to not only major in Forensic Anthropology, but also simultaneously be working on their doctorate. She was a rarity, which drew criticism as well as reverence. “No.” She muttered. “You ought to consider your major, Rolf.” Rolf sighed and Tempe’s demeanor changed when she saw that he’d been hurt. “I’m sorry, Rolf. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Maybe, but it’s true, Temp.” The boy folded up his books. “I’m failing Milgard’s class.” He shook his head and fought to keep his eyes clear from tears. Rolf was a very emotional boy, which made Tempe very uncomfortable when she saw such emotional outbursts. She just wasn’t used to that kind of thing. After her parents disappeared when she was fifteen, she realized the harshness of the world. She grew a shell, so to speak. Emotional outbursts such as these were difficult for her to process. She just didn’t understand it. How hard was it for one to be calm? To keep his emotions steady? “I think I’m going back to Iowa in the spring. I’m just not cut out for this.”
“You’ve got other talents, Rolf. I’ve noticed that you are an excellent artist.” She looked up, her eyes gesturing to the room full of patrons who had gathered for a college art show. “Did you enter anything?” She asked.
“Nah, I’m not that good.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rolf. I’ve seen your sketches of the human anatomy. They’re excellently rendered.” Despite her use of large words, Rolf understood her completely and nodded.
“Thanks, Temp. I was thinking of entering one thing.”
“You ought to.” She smiled at him.
“There’s this one artist here named Angela something-er-other who’s extremely talented. I could do nothing like she does.”
“You’ve got to build on your talent, Rolf.”
“True, true.”
Tempe didn’t reply, letting him know that that was the end of the conversation. She didn’t often have long conversations. Human interaction wasn’t exactly her strong suit. Before Rolf could ask another question about the shatter pattern on the skull in the photos, Tempe excused herself from the group. Her long skirt sacheted against her ankles as she wound her way through the maze of canvases and statues. She really didn’t need to go to the restroom, so she let her eyes wander through the pieces as she walked.
One particular piece immediately caught her eye. A canvas that stretched from ceiling stretched across the wall. Large strokes of red and black streaked together, creating a figure of a man. No real features on the figure really stood out besides the claw-like fingers and the backbone that danced along length of the man’s torso. In many respects, the painting reminded Tempe of Jesus, a man who was crucified on a cross, his limbs stretched and nailed in a very Biblical posture.
“That’s mine.” A woman’s voice said, which drew Tempe out of her reverie with a gasp. She didn’t realize she had been staring.
“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes met a tall woman with Asian eyes and very European features.
The mixture intrigued Tempe, and without a second thought, she blurted, “What is your heritage?”
“You’re a blunt one, aren’t you?” The woman laughed. “I’m Angela.” She held out a hand.
“Was that the wrong thing to say? Your features are very intriguing.”
“No problem, sweetie, I appreciate honesty. Chinese and Irish.”
“Temperance Brennan.”
“Huh?” Angela asked.
“That’s my name.”
“Sounds more like a paragraph than a name. Mind if I call you Bren? I like that. It’s much easier to mouth. Rolls off the tongue like a French lover.”
Tempe laughed at Angela. She had never met anybody who appreciated her quirky behavior. “I don’t mind at all. Nice to meet you, Angela.”
“Ange if you’re comfortable. Do you like it? I call it Man in Crisis.”
“Fascinating title. Are you an art major at the U?” Tempe asked.
“Yeah. I’m in my third year. You?”
“I go to Northwestern. I’m a Forensic Anthropology student. I’m sort of in my seventh year.”
Angela’s eyes grew wide with that response. “Wow! Seven? I doubt it’s because you’re stupid, so I’m guessing it’s because you’re smart?”
“I’m fairly intelligent, yes. I’m just about to graduate with my Master’s. I’m also working on my doctorate.”
“Wow! Your parents must be loaded.”
“Loaded?”
“It means rich, Bren.”
“Oh. No. Actually, I don’t have parents. I’m putting myself though school.”
That explanation suddenly made Angela more at ease with Bren. She thought at first she was going to be speaking to one of those types of people who were all high and mighty because they were so much smarter than everyone else. Knowing this piece of information made Tempe Brennan a little more human. “I’m really sorry to hear about not having parents.”
“They disappeared when I was fifteen. I’m OK with it.” She wasn’t, but she hated seeing the sympathy on peoples’ faces.
“If it helps any, I have no idea what happened to my mom. It’s just me and my dad.”
Tempe smiled at Angela. She was her complete opposite, but she was also completely fascinating.
“Hey, Bren, maybe we could hang out some time? I just transferred, so I honestly don’t know many people.”
Rolf and another student, Amy, came up behind Tempe. “Hey, Temp,” Rolf stated. “We’re about to go back to the dorms. Need a ride?”
“I could give you a ride.” Angela suggested.
“Yeah, sure.” Rolf seemed surprised and Angela, who seemed to be a mind reader saw Bren’s hesitation.
“Bren and I are old friends. I’ll give her a ride.”
Rolf, Amy, and the other students left the coffee shop, leaving the two NEW friends to become better acquainted.
---------------------------
The group of six were as close knit as they could be under the circumstances. It seemed that FA students were rather antisocial, more out of necessity or mere survival, than design. After class, Tempe found her way to Perk’s Cup, the local coffee shop with the other FA students. She really didn’t like coffee too much before becoming a night owl as her major often required her to be. She sipped a coffee in the corner and read her text book. She found that the bitterness of her coffee was far more interesting than the buzz that was occurring all around her.
“Considering the radiating skull fractures,” said the tall skinny student, Rolf, to Tempe, “woudn’t you say that this was the first injury to occur?”
Tempe took a look onto the crime scene photos that were in his hands. “Yes, I’d say so.” She hated that everyone looked on her for answers to their problems, but she also reveled in the fact that she was looked on as one with a higher intelligence than the others. Not many students came through all of their schooling to not only major in Forensic Anthropology, but also simultaneously be working on their doctorate. She was a rarity, which drew criticism as well as reverence. “No.” She muttered. “You ought to consider your major, Rolf.” Rolf sighed and Tempe’s demeanor changed when she saw that he’d been hurt. “I’m sorry, Rolf. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Maybe, but it’s true, Temp.” The boy folded up his books. “I’m failing Milgard’s class.” He shook his head and fought to keep his eyes clear from tears. Rolf was a very emotional boy, which made Tempe very uncomfortable when she saw such emotional outbursts. She just wasn’t used to that kind of thing. After her parents disappeared when she was fifteen, she realized the harshness of the world. She grew a shell, so to speak. Emotional outbursts such as these were difficult for her to process. She just didn’t understand it. How hard was it for one to be calm? To keep his emotions steady? “I think I’m going back to Iowa in the spring. I’m just not cut out for this.”
“You’ve got other talents, Rolf. I’ve noticed that you are an excellent artist.” She looked up, her eyes gesturing to the room full of patrons who had gathered for a college art show. “Did you enter anything?” She asked.
“Nah, I’m not that good.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rolf. I’ve seen your sketches of the human anatomy. They’re excellently rendered.” Despite her use of large words, Rolf understood her completely and nodded.
“Thanks, Temp. I was thinking of entering one thing.”
“You ought to.” She smiled at him.
“There’s this one artist here named Angela something-er-other who’s extremely talented. I could do nothing like she does.”
“You’ve got to build on your talent, Rolf.”
“True, true.”
Tempe didn’t reply, letting him know that that was the end of the conversation. She didn’t often have long conversations. Human interaction wasn’t exactly her strong suit. Before Rolf could ask another question about the shatter pattern on the skull in the photos, Tempe excused herself from the group. Her long skirt sacheted against her ankles as she wound her way through the maze of canvases and statues. She really didn’t need to go to the restroom, so she let her eyes wander through the pieces as she walked.
One particular piece immediately caught her eye. A canvas that stretched from ceiling stretched across the wall. Large strokes of red and black streaked together, creating a figure of a man. No real features on the figure really stood out besides the claw-like fingers and the backbone that danced along length of the man’s torso. In many respects, the painting reminded Tempe of Jesus, a man who was crucified on a cross, his limbs stretched and nailed in a very Biblical posture.
“That’s mine.” A woman’s voice said, which drew Tempe out of her reverie with a gasp. She didn’t realize she had been staring.
“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes met a tall woman with Asian eyes and very European features.
The mixture intrigued Tempe, and without a second thought, she blurted, “What is your heritage?”
“You’re a blunt one, aren’t you?” The woman laughed. “I’m Angela.” She held out a hand.
“Was that the wrong thing to say? Your features are very intriguing.”
“No problem, sweetie, I appreciate honesty. Chinese and Irish.”
“Temperance Brennan.”
“Huh?” Angela asked.
“That’s my name.”
“Sounds more like a paragraph than a name. Mind if I call you Bren? I like that. It’s much easier to mouth. Rolls off the tongue like a French lover.”
Tempe laughed at Angela. She had never met anybody who appreciated her quirky behavior. “I don’t mind at all. Nice to meet you, Angela.”
“Ange if you’re comfortable. Do you like it? I call it Man in Crisis.”
“Fascinating title. Are you an art major at the U?” Tempe asked.
“Yeah. I’m in my third year. You?”
“I go to Northwestern. I’m a Forensic Anthropology student. I’m sort of in my seventh year.”
Angela’s eyes grew wide with that response. “Wow! Seven? I doubt it’s because you’re stupid, so I’m guessing it’s because you’re smart?”
“I’m fairly intelligent, yes. I’m just about to graduate with my Master’s. I’m also working on my doctorate.”
“Wow! Your parents must be loaded.”
“Loaded?”
“It means rich, Bren.”
“Oh. No. Actually, I don’t have parents. I’m putting myself though school.”
That explanation suddenly made Angela more at ease with Bren. She thought at first she was going to be speaking to one of those types of people who were all high and mighty because they were so much smarter than everyone else. Knowing this piece of information made Tempe Brennan a little more human. “I’m really sorry to hear about not having parents.”
“They disappeared when I was fifteen. I’m OK with it.” She wasn’t, but she hated seeing the sympathy on peoples’ faces.
“If it helps any, I have no idea what happened to my mom. It’s just me and my dad.”
Tempe smiled at Angela. She was her complete opposite, but she was also completely fascinating.
“Hey, Bren, maybe we could hang out some time? I just transferred, so I honestly don’t know many people.”
Rolf and another student, Amy, came up behind Tempe. “Hey, Temp,” Rolf stated. “We’re about to go back to the dorms. Need a ride?”
“I could give you a ride.” Angela suggested.
“Yeah, sure.” Rolf seemed surprised and Angela, who seemed to be a mind reader saw Bren’s hesitation.
“Bren and I are old friends. I’ll give her a ride.”
Rolf, Amy, and the other students left the coffee shop, leaving the two NEW friends to become better acquainted.
ForensicMama- Therapist
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sat Jul 26, 2008 4:21 pm
Part 3
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Ange and Tempe walked through Chicago’s Park District instead of going straight to the dorms. The two felt like they had been friends forever and their personalities, though different, were like parts of a mosaic and they found many topics to talk about.
“Are there any great clubs to go dancing at around here?” Ange asked.
“Uh, I honestly don’t know.” Bren replied with a chuckle. “I actually spend most of my days studying indoors.”
“So you’ve never gone out and had a good time?” Angela raised an eyebrow. “Bren, sweetie, this is college. It won’t last forever. After college, you go out into the world and start working for a living.”
“I don’t quite know what you mean, Ange.” The the sun was beginning to set and the lights of the Buckingham Fountain made the mist glow in the dusk.
“I mean, you’ve only got so much time, Bren. So much time to be a crazy college kid. Once you start working, you’re basically stuck. Well, except for me. I won’t be stuck, but you’ll be.”
“Why won’t you be?” Bren raised a pretzel bought by a vendor to her lips and nibbled on the soft salty bread.
“I’m an artist, sweetie. I’ve already traveled all over the world. After I graduate, I’m going to Milan and opening an art exhibit. Seguite i vostri sogni ed il vostro cuore.”
“Follow your dreams and your heart.” Brennan translated.
“You speak Italian?” Angela reached over and stole a bit of Brennan’s pretzel.
“The linguistic portion of my brain is highly developed.”
“As is the rest, I assume?”
“For the most part. I really am awful with interpersonal interaction.”
“You seem to be doing fine. I think I found my new best friend. Hey, Bren, do you have a boyfriend or anything?” Angela saw the blush on her friend’s cheek, so she was quick to add, “Who is it?”
“Nobody.” Tempe replied quickly.
“Not nobody, Bren. You forget that I’m a people person. I can tell you’re fibbing, sweetie.”
“It’s silly, really.” Tempe looked at Angela. “He’s one of my FA professors.”
Angela’s eyes widened. “What?! Who is he? I really didn’t have you made for someone who sleeps with the prof!”
“His name is Michael Stires.”
“He’s not one of those ugly professors, is he? The type that are all bald and chunk-a-licious?”
“Chunk-a-licious?” Bren laughed. “No, no. Michael is very attractive. Tall, strong features…”
“Sounds sexy. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt your report card, either.” Angela snuck a sly grin in Tempe’s direction.
“It’s not like that. Our relationship at the moment…” She searched for words. “Basically it bounces between being student and professor and simply being there for each others’ sexual gratification.”
“Wow! Sweetie, I’m never underestimating a brainiac ever again. I had you pegged for a virgin.”
“Far from it.”
“So, there’s like no emotional stuff between you two?”
“We’re good friends, but our relationship really… Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure thing.”
“Actually, we should head back to the car. I’ve got an 8 AM class.”
“With the hottie prof?”
“With Santa Claus’ evil twin.”
The two laughed as they meandered through the park towards Angela’s old Volkswagen Beetle.
------------------------------------------------
Ange and Tempe walked through Chicago’s Park District instead of going straight to the dorms. The two felt like they had been friends forever and their personalities, though different, were like parts of a mosaic and they found many topics to talk about.
“Are there any great clubs to go dancing at around here?” Ange asked.
“Uh, I honestly don’t know.” Bren replied with a chuckle. “I actually spend most of my days studying indoors.”
“So you’ve never gone out and had a good time?” Angela raised an eyebrow. “Bren, sweetie, this is college. It won’t last forever. After college, you go out into the world and start working for a living.”
“I don’t quite know what you mean, Ange.” The the sun was beginning to set and the lights of the Buckingham Fountain made the mist glow in the dusk.
“I mean, you’ve only got so much time, Bren. So much time to be a crazy college kid. Once you start working, you’re basically stuck. Well, except for me. I won’t be stuck, but you’ll be.”
“Why won’t you be?” Bren raised a pretzel bought by a vendor to her lips and nibbled on the soft salty bread.
“I’m an artist, sweetie. I’ve already traveled all over the world. After I graduate, I’m going to Milan and opening an art exhibit. Seguite i vostri sogni ed il vostro cuore.”
“Follow your dreams and your heart.” Brennan translated.
“You speak Italian?” Angela reached over and stole a bit of Brennan’s pretzel.
“The linguistic portion of my brain is highly developed.”
“As is the rest, I assume?”
“For the most part. I really am awful with interpersonal interaction.”
“You seem to be doing fine. I think I found my new best friend. Hey, Bren, do you have a boyfriend or anything?” Angela saw the blush on her friend’s cheek, so she was quick to add, “Who is it?”
“Nobody.” Tempe replied quickly.
“Not nobody, Bren. You forget that I’m a people person. I can tell you’re fibbing, sweetie.”
“It’s silly, really.” Tempe looked at Angela. “He’s one of my FA professors.”
Angela’s eyes widened. “What?! Who is he? I really didn’t have you made for someone who sleeps with the prof!”
“His name is Michael Stires.”
“He’s not one of those ugly professors, is he? The type that are all bald and chunk-a-licious?”
“Chunk-a-licious?” Bren laughed. “No, no. Michael is very attractive. Tall, strong features…”
“Sounds sexy. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt your report card, either.” Angela snuck a sly grin in Tempe’s direction.
“It’s not like that. Our relationship at the moment…” She searched for words. “Basically it bounces between being student and professor and simply being there for each others’ sexual gratification.”
“Wow! Sweetie, I’m never underestimating a brainiac ever again. I had you pegged for a virgin.”
“Far from it.”
“So, there’s like no emotional stuff between you two?”
“We’re good friends, but our relationship really… Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure thing.”
“Actually, we should head back to the car. I’ve got an 8 AM class.”
“With the hottie prof?”
“With Santa Claus’ evil twin.”
The two laughed as they meandered through the park towards Angela’s old Volkswagen Beetle.
ForensicMama- Therapist
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Age : 40
Location : USA. In a house.
Say What You Want : MAMA: STONE-COLD SHIPPER.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sat Jul 26, 2008 4:23 pm
Part 4
--------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, 700 miles south east of Chicago, a young agent named Seeley Booth drove home to his girlfriend. Rebecca’s voice sounded frantic when she called him. “Seeley, I need you to come home as soon as you can.” That was all she said on the message she left. Her voice was pitchy and tight with fear. What could it be? Was she hurt? Maybe this was it. She was breaking up with him. Their relationship seemed to be on the rocks as of late. He was never used to Rebecca’s mood swings. In the past few weeks they seemed somehow more commonplace.
He pulled into the parking lot outside of their tall brick building. He tapped anxiously on the elevator button. Looking up, Seeley could see that the elevator was taking it sweet dam- time. 11th floor… 10th floor… Booth cursed under his breath and turned to the stairs. Skipping to every third step, and pulling with his right hand on the rail, he quickly flew to their third floor apartment. The door was locked. Booth knocked impatiently. Nothing. He waited and knocked louder, this time. Still nothing. Booth took a few steps back and then bashed in the door with his shoulder. The wood on the door frame splintered, jarring the lock loose.
Rebecca ran into the room. “J-sus, Seeley! You could have knocked!” Her face was wrinkled with anger.
“I did knock, Rebecca!”
“Then knock more, Seeley. I’m gonna get kicked out of this place if you kick in another door!”
“Excuse me, but when my girlfriend leaves me a message on my phone saying she wants me to come home immediately, I automatically think somethin’s wrong, OK?”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong, Seeley. There you are again! Jumping to conclusions. Let me tell you, if you keep this kinda thing up, always thinking people are out to get me and sh-t, then–”
“Then, what, Rebecca?” A part of him just wanted her to say it already.
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?”
“I’m pregnant. That’s what I wanted to tell you.” Her eyes softened and she smiled.
“What?” Booth couldn’t quite put a finger on his feelings. A part of him was frightened, another part of him was joyful. He stepped forward and pulled her into a warm embrace. “Oh, G-d, Rebecca, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” He kissed her softly, then pulled back and put his hand on her belly. “It’s mine, right?” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
She hit him on the shoulder. “Of course it’s yours, Seeley.”
“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a daddy.” Booth wiped moisture from his eye with a shaking hand. “I’m going to do everything right by you, Rebecca.” He looked into her eyes lovingly.
Unfortunately, his loving glance was met with a look of hostility. “What are you saying, Seeley?”
Booth was confused. “I’m saying I love you, Rebecca. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?” This wasn’t the way he had imagined asking her. Earlier that week he had stopped by a jewelers and picked out the perfect ring for Rebecca. A 3 karat diamond ring with two little diamond insets. He wanted to do something more romantic than barging in, yelling at her, then discovering he was becoming a father, but a larger part of him knew that nothing could be better than spending that day with his fiancee and baby.
To both of their surprises, Rebecca stepped out of his grasp. He could see the wall she built up in her eyes. “No, Seeley.”
“What? You love me, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but I’m not going to have you ask me out of pity.”
“That’s not why, is it?”
“Seeley, you and I both know that our relationship has changed in the past few months. I can’t start a family like that. I’ve got dreams, Seeley. Big dreams. I’m going to finish school and finish graduate school.”
“By yourself? With a baby?”
“You don’t think I can do it, do you? You’ve never believed in me. Always believing in yourself before you believe in me.” Her lips tightened, her blue eyes glazed over. “You sonofabi-ch.”
“That’s not what I mean, Rebecca, and you know it.”
“Get out.” She stood with her hand gesturing for the doorway. “Go back to your mistress.”
“What mistress?”
“The FBI. You love her more than you’ll ever love us.”
“That’s not true, Rebecca. I love you and I love our baby.”
“Well…” Her eyes softened and she looked away from his gaze. “I don’t love you. Please go.”
Booth did as he was told, reluctantly. After the door closed behind him, Rebecca walked to her bed where she fell and cried until she fell asleep.
ForensicMama- Therapist
- Number of posts : 4649
Age : 40
Location : USA. In a house.
Say What You Want : MAMA: STONE-COLD SHIPPER.
Registration date : 2008-06-14 -
Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sun Jul 27, 2008 7:19 am
Part 4
------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, 700 miles south east of Chicago, a young agent named Seeley Booth drove home to his girlfriend. Rebecca’s voice sounded frantic when she called him. “Seeley, I need you to come home as soon as you can.” That was all she said on the message she left. Her voice was pitchy and tight with fear. What could it be? Was she hurt? Maybe this was it. She was breaking up with him. Their relationship seemed to be on the rocks as of late. He was never used to Rebecca’s mood swings. In the past few weeks they seemed somehow more commonplace.
He pulled into the parking lot outside of their tall brick building. He tapped anxiously on the elevator button. Looking up, Seeley could see that the elevator was taking it sweet dam- time. 11th floor… 10th floor… Booth cursed under his breath and turned to the stairs. Skipping to every third step, and pulling with his right hand on the rail, he quickly flew to their third floor apartment. The door was locked. Booth knocked impatiently. Nothing. He waited and knocked louder, this time. Still nothing. Booth took a few steps back and then bashed in the door with his shoulder. The wood on the door frame splintered, jarring the lock loose.
Rebecca ran into the room. “J-sus, Seeley! You could have knocked!” Her face was wrinkled with anger.
“I did knock, Rebecca!”
“Then knock more, Seeley. I’m gonna get kicked out of this place if you kick in another door!”
“Excuse me, but when my girlfriend leaves me a message on my phone saying she wants me to come home immediately, I automatically think somethin’s wrong, OK?”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong, Seeley. There you are again! Jumping to conclusions. Let me tell you, if you keep this kinda thing up, always thinking people are out to get me and sh-t, then–”
“Then, what, Rebecca?” A part of him just wanted her to say it already.
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?”
“I’m pregnant. That’s what I wanted to tell you.” Her eyes softened and she smiled.
“What?” Booth couldn’t quite put a finger on his feelings. A part of him was frightened, another part of him was joyful. He stepped forward and pulled her into a warm embrace. “Oh, G-d, Rebecca, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” He kissed her softly, then pulled back and put his hand on her belly. “It’s mine, right?” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
She hit him on the shoulder. “Of course it’s yours, Seeley.”
“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a daddy.” Booth wiped moisture from his eye with a shaking hand. “I’m going to do everything right by you, Rebecca.” He looked into her eyes lovingly.
Unfortunately, his loving glance was met with a look of hostility. “What are you saying, Seeley?”
Booth was confused. “I’m saying I love you, Rebecca. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?” This wasn’t the way he had imagined asking her. Earlier that week he had stopped by a jewelers and picked out the perfect ring for Rebecca. A 3 karat diamond ring with two little diamond insets. He wanted to do something more romantic than barging in, yelling at her, then discovering he was becoming a father, but a larger part of him knew that nothing could be better than spending that day with his fiancee and baby.
To both of their surprises, Rebecca stepped out of his grasp. He could see the wall she built up in her eyes. “No, Seeley.”
“What? You love me, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but I’m not going to have you ask me out of pity.”
“That’s not why, is it?”
“Seeley, you and I both know that our relationship has changed in the past few months. I can’t start a family like that. I’ve got dreams, Seeley. Big dreams. I’m going to finish school and finish graduate school.”
“By yourself? With a baby?”
“You don’t think I can do it, do you? You’ve never believed in me. Always believing in yourself before you believe in me.” Her lips tightened, her blue eyes glazed over. “You sonofabi-ch.”
“That’s not what I mean, Rebecca, and you know it.”
“Get out.” She stood with her hand gesturing for the doorway. “Go back to your mistress.”
“What mistress?”
“The FBI. You love her more than you’ll ever love us.”
“That’s not true, Rebecca. I love you and I love our baby.”
“Well…” Her eyes softened and she looked away from his gaze. “I don’t love you. Please go.”
Booth did as he was told, reluctantly. After the door closed behind him, Rebecca walked to her bed where she fell and cried until she fell asleep.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sun Jul 27, 2008 7:20 am
Part 5
----------------------------------------------
The sun was beginning to hide behind the horizon. Booth sat on the coast with his bare toes digging into the white sandy shores. He watched the sunset with a grim, cold, blank look on his face. He tried not to think about anything. He was furious. He was desperate. He was alone.
It all began three weeks ago, really. First his partner, Hernandez left the Bureau to get married to some middle aged divorcee in Delaware. He could still see him, his black eyes blazing with lust for this woman, not caring what Booth thought of the whole situation. It wasn’t that Hernandez was a stubborn man. He just didn’t know what a true partnership was. He was always focused a hundred and ten percent on his love life. He wasn’t a serious agent at all. Booth hated it when people used the FBI as a road to something they thought was better. Nothing was better than being an agent. Period. And Hernandez thought it would be a perfect way to attract women, apparently. Booth jerked his head side to side, cracking it. His neck and back muscles were tight with tension. Something needed to change. Something.
He could feel his cell phone buzzing on his hip. He answered it. It was his superior, a man named Cullen. “Booth. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Absolutely.” He hung up. Cullen had asked him if he would like to work with the forensics team at the Jeffersonian. He usually would have said no. Absolutely not. Squints were not his thing. Geeky nobodies following him around, asking him what the rationale was behind the things he said, using Four Dollar Words that he needed a thesaurus to translate. However, you might say that he was feeling a bit devilish. He wanted desperately to get out of his box. Working somewhere besides the bureau, where every woman he ran into either asked him how Rebecca was, or ignored him completely, believing that he had something to do with Hernandez sleeping with them then never calling back.
Booth stood up and brushed the sand from his shorts and walked back to his red Toyota. He hoped nobody see him get into the vehicle. It was embarrassingly feminine. ‘Only six more months… only six more months,’ he reminded himself, ‘until I get my FBI issued wheels.’
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sun Jul 27, 2008 7:21 am
Part 6
--------------------------------------------------
Two weeks later:
Tempe woke to the wail of her cell phone. Her fingers fumbled blindly through bottles of nail polish and a recycled can that held pens and pencils, knocking them over, before she finally brought the black cell phone to her ear.
“Brennan.” That was her usual reply, always had been.
“Hey, Tempe.” A man’s voice replied.
Tempe brought the phone away from her ear and brought the cell phone back, flipped it, and focused her eyes on the time. “Michael, do you know what time it is?”
“Five thirty. I know you, Tempe. I had to catch you before you left for class. Don’t wanna get in between you and your perfect attendance record. Don’t wanna make you late for being early.” He laughed.
“Why did you call me, Michael?”
“Want to get some coffee before class?”
“That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Why is that?” He asked, his voice growing serious.
“Because Dr. Hewitt gets his coffee every morning at the Perk. I’d hate for you to get fired over our relationship.”
“Tempe, first of all, we could just swing by Starbucks. Second of all, you are a consenting adult and so am I. Besides, in a month, you won’t even be a student at Northwestern.”
“OK. I’ll meet you at the Perk.”
“Thirty minutes?”
“Yeah. Thirty minutes.” She hung up. Not many women would be dressed, ready, and three blocks away in just thirty minutes, but Tempe didn’t often wear make up or take an extended time looking into a mirror before class.
She swung her feet out of bed and they met the warm gray carpet on the floor. Twenty minutes later, she inspected her reflection in the mirror. She chose a maroon sweater, a pair of jeans, and a comfortable pair of Uggs. The warm autumn had turned that morning, so it seemed, and the wind seemed much crisper and bit her cheeks as she walked down to Perk’s Cup.
When the Perk was in sight, she felt her cell phone buzz once again.
—-
Message From: Angela
Good morning sweetie.
—-
Message From: Bren
Good morning, Ange.
—-
Message From: Angela
You’re up early. As usual.
—-
Message From: Bren
Did you expect anything less?
—
Message From: Angela
Going to get coffee with the sexy doc?
—-
Message From: Bren
Yes.
—-
Message From: Angela
Hey Bren after class I’m showing you a good time… but not that way. Get ur head out of the gutter.
—-
Tempe smiled at her cell phone and put it back into her big grayish green book bag. Angela was always full of such surprises. She opened the door of the coffee shop where she saw Michael sitting at a new spot. He was always moving around and sitting in different places in the shop. Maybe he was trying to prove to himself he was as wild and crazy as his students. Either way, it secretly annoyed Tempe.
Michael approached her and laid a peck on her lips. “You look nice.” He said.
“Thank you.” Was it just her, or did his compliments always seem so forced? They settled in a boot in the back of the shop. The college art show had finished and Angela’s Man in Crisis no longer blocked the view of the Monday morning traffic that whizzed by the little shop.
“Sorry I haven’t called you in a few weeks. I’ve been preparing my finals.” He sipped his coffee. He liked his coffee black. He never added sugar. Once she had prepared him coffee after waking up at his apartment and added the sugar and cream for him. He spat it out back into the cup and told her it was revolting. She remembered feeling ashamed, as silly as it might seem. She may have fought back some tears as she poured him another cup. It was another one of those moments where she suddenly felt like a child again, being punished by her father. She felt more ashamed of her reaction than of his reaction.
“That’s OK. I’ve been busy studying anyway.”
“Yeah?”
“My friend Angela and I have been basically discovering Chicago together. She’s new here. Just transferred to the AIC.”
“Huh. THAT must be interesting.” He scoffed at the thought as he sipped his black coffee and nibbled at his bran muffin.
“What is that supposed to mean?” She was indignant.
“I’m just saying, Tempe. You’re a very–I don’t know–straightforward person. Being friends with a hippie yuppie artist has gotta be downright different.”
“Angela isn’t a hippie yuppie.” She didn’t know what either of those words, paired together, were supposed to mean, but from the tone of her voice, she knew she had to defend her friend.
“Sorry, Tempe. You’re right. I should meet her first before making any assumptions.”
“Precisely.” Tempe stood up from her spot and Michael’s eyes raised to her face.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to go. Uh, Milgard is starting his class early today so we can process evidence at the Killing Fields.” She lied and Michael, who was terrible at reading Tempe, couldn’t see it on her face.
“Oh, OK.” He wiped the crumbs from his face with a napkin and stood to kiss her good-bye. Their lips met, only for a moment, before Brennan could rush out the door.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sun Jul 27, 2008 7:21 am
Part 7
------------------------------------------------
Michael watched as Tempe walked out of sight. He really was having a great day. He thought back fondly on his morning, as early as it had been…
He woke up as he usually did with his alarm clock blaring its loud acoustic jazz melody. He covered his head with his pillow, hoping to drown out the music. He was really a morning guy. That’s one thing he liked about Tempe. Their biological clocks coincided perfectly. Being the morning person as he was, in his sexual nature–as well as in his sleep habits–they always had good mornings when she stayed over.
Unfortunately, Jill was over that night. A tall leggy blond doctor and a former student. “What the h-ll, Michael.” She said groggily and reached over his bare chest for the alarm clock and hit the snooze button. “It’s four thirty. The sun’s not even up.”
“I’m a morning person.” He said without a groggy tone in his voice.
Jill leaned over and kissed him hungrily, her tongue dancing with his. She pulled back. “That probably wasn’t a good idea. Morning breath.” She made a grimace. “You can’t expect me to be wide awake at four in the morning when you kept me up all night.” Her blond hair was tousled over her shoulder. It tempted his lips, so he kissed her bare skin. “Your class doesn’t even begin until eight. Why are you getting up so early?” Her head fell back into the pillow.
“I’m tutoring a student this morning.” He replied. “She’s not exactly what you’d call a bright student.”
“Oh? Another one of those bone heads?”
“As bony as they get.” He stood up and pulled a pair of plaid pajama pants on. “She’s smart if you look at her IQ test, but honestly she thinks she’s the brightest bulb on the tree and she really misses the mark every time.” He rolled her eyes, then thought to himself, ‘At least she’s good in the sack.’ His eyebrows shot up with that remark to himself. “Feel free to let yourself out on your way, Jill.”
“OK, sexy. Maybe after class you can give me a check-up, Doc?” She asked as she rolled over in his direction.
With a serious face, he replied, “I’m not that kind of doctor, Jill.” Then he went into the bathroom and showered for his coffee date with the bonehead genius with the hot a–.
------------------------------------------------
Michael watched as Tempe walked out of sight. He really was having a great day. He thought back fondly on his morning, as early as it had been…
He woke up as he usually did with his alarm clock blaring its loud acoustic jazz melody. He covered his head with his pillow, hoping to drown out the music. He was really a morning guy. That’s one thing he liked about Tempe. Their biological clocks coincided perfectly. Being the morning person as he was, in his sexual nature–as well as in his sleep habits–they always had good mornings when she stayed over.
Unfortunately, Jill was over that night. A tall leggy blond doctor and a former student. “What the h-ll, Michael.” She said groggily and reached over his bare chest for the alarm clock and hit the snooze button. “It’s four thirty. The sun’s not even up.”
“I’m a morning person.” He said without a groggy tone in his voice.
Jill leaned over and kissed him hungrily, her tongue dancing with his. She pulled back. “That probably wasn’t a good idea. Morning breath.” She made a grimace. “You can’t expect me to be wide awake at four in the morning when you kept me up all night.” Her blond hair was tousled over her shoulder. It tempted his lips, so he kissed her bare skin. “Your class doesn’t even begin until eight. Why are you getting up so early?” Her head fell back into the pillow.
“I’m tutoring a student this morning.” He replied. “She’s not exactly what you’d call a bright student.”
“Oh? Another one of those bone heads?”
“As bony as they get.” He stood up and pulled a pair of plaid pajama pants on. “She’s smart if you look at her IQ test, but honestly she thinks she’s the brightest bulb on the tree and she really misses the mark every time.” He rolled her eyes, then thought to himself, ‘At least she’s good in the sack.’ His eyebrows shot up with that remark to himself. “Feel free to let yourself out on your way, Jill.”
“OK, sexy. Maybe after class you can give me a check-up, Doc?” She asked as she rolled over in his direction.
With a serious face, he replied, “I’m not that kind of doctor, Jill.” Then he went into the bathroom and showered for his coffee date with the bonehead genius with the hot a–.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sun Jul 27, 2008 4:06 pm
Part 8
-------------------------------------
The class had assembled for Milgard’s lesson in the Killing Fields. The group of twenty seven, for there were crime scene investigator students as well as etymology and field forensics students mixed into the group, lined up one next to the other at arms lengths. Tempe was the first to pull her gumboots over her jeans and stand in line. She was somewhere in the middle next to a thin, well built, blond curly haired entomology student with bright blue eyes named Jack, and next to a crime scene forensics student named Chrystal. Each of the students spread out so they were touching fingers. They lowered their hands as they were taught and began to walk slowly through the faux crime scene.
Tempe was chosen randomly to be the head of the team. Despite being horrible with interpersonal relationships, she reveled in being the boss over people. Along with the group, she walked slowly, the toe of her shoe raking over the leaves as they walked.
“Found something!” The man next to her, who she later discovered was named Jack Hodgins, stopped and bent over. With a gloved finger, he carefully raked the leaves over.
“Stop!” She ordered the group. “Looks like the butt of a gun. It’s been disassembled.” Tempe put a red flag on the newfound ‘evidence’ and the group walked slowly through the crime scene again.
She could hear the young man grumbling as they walked. She caught a word here and a word there, but one thing especially stood out to her and she tried to keep from bursting into laughter. “I can’t believe I’m here. It Big Brother’s fault. I’m smarter than this. ” His foot scraped along, the crunching of leaves masked his muttering. He was obviously having a bad day and Tempe could see this on his face. She decided not to say anything to him.
However, Milgard was quick to pick up the grumbles in the morning silence. “Do you have a problem, Mr. Hodgins?”
“No, sir.”
“Then keep your trap shut and your eyes on the ground.” The bald professor zipped at him.
Tempe could see Jack’s shoulders slumping as he fought his innermost urges to bury the man six feet under.
Jack must have seen her laughing, because he whispered, “Why are you laughing?”
“I get the feeling,” She whispered back. “that if Professor Milgard was murdered, there would be a LOT of suspects.”
“You got that right.” He laughed. “Name’s Hodgins.” He introduced himself.
“Brennan.” She replied, using her surname as he did. “Anthropology major. You?”
“Entomology. Bugs, slime, particulates. I’m only here because they just added this requirement to my major.”
“Mine, too.”
“Got something!” A voice rang out from two down the line.
“Stop!” Brennan ordered, as it was her job as team leader to order such things. She walked over to where the Rolf was standing. It was the young lady next to him.
She was kneeling in the leaves pointing at a drop of blood. “Blood on a leaf.” Brennan flagged it, then returned to her place in the line. “Go!” She ordered, and the line continued on its slow march.
“Are you working as a grad student, Brennan?” Hodgins asked
“I’m working under Dr. Stires at the local Morgue.”
“Nice.” He said sarcastically. “Planning on staying in the Chicago area?”
“Doubtful. Currently there are only six Forensic Anthropologists in the United States. It’s hard to say where my skills will be needed. You?”
“I’m graduating next month.”
“Me, too.”
Hodgins’ cool blue eyes reflected Tempe’s as he continued, “I’m working on my doctorate as we speak. My thesis is on the effects of Musca domestica larvae on the decomposition of the human eye.”
Brennan, not the normal girl, did not wince at the image and nodded approvingly. “Fascinating. And after you achieve your doctorate?”
“I’m applying at the Jeffersonian Institution in Washington, DC. They’re at the top of their game for Etymology Sciences. You?”
“I–I’m not sure. I suppose I’m going to apply wherever a Forensic Anthropologist is needed. Do they need one at the Jeffersonian?”
“Not that I know of, but I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
“Found one!” A voice chimed out. Brennan found the voice and repeated the same procedure: halting, flagging, proceeding.
“We can exchange email addresses afterward.” Brennan confided. She felt much more comfortable with email than with phone conversations. She could always go back, delete, and edit the things she said with a keyboard.
-------------------------------------
The class had assembled for Milgard’s lesson in the Killing Fields. The group of twenty seven, for there were crime scene investigator students as well as etymology and field forensics students mixed into the group, lined up one next to the other at arms lengths. Tempe was the first to pull her gumboots over her jeans and stand in line. She was somewhere in the middle next to a thin, well built, blond curly haired entomology student with bright blue eyes named Jack, and next to a crime scene forensics student named Chrystal. Each of the students spread out so they were touching fingers. They lowered their hands as they were taught and began to walk slowly through the faux crime scene.
Tempe was chosen randomly to be the head of the team. Despite being horrible with interpersonal relationships, she reveled in being the boss over people. Along with the group, she walked slowly, the toe of her shoe raking over the leaves as they walked.
“Found something!” The man next to her, who she later discovered was named Jack Hodgins, stopped and bent over. With a gloved finger, he carefully raked the leaves over.
“Stop!” She ordered the group. “Looks like the butt of a gun. It’s been disassembled.” Tempe put a red flag on the newfound ‘evidence’ and the group walked slowly through the crime scene again.
She could hear the young man grumbling as they walked. She caught a word here and a word there, but one thing especially stood out to her and she tried to keep from bursting into laughter. “I can’t believe I’m here. It Big Brother’s fault. I’m smarter than this. ” His foot scraped along, the crunching of leaves masked his muttering. He was obviously having a bad day and Tempe could see this on his face. She decided not to say anything to him.
However, Milgard was quick to pick up the grumbles in the morning silence. “Do you have a problem, Mr. Hodgins?”
“No, sir.”
“Then keep your trap shut and your eyes on the ground.” The bald professor zipped at him.
Tempe could see Jack’s shoulders slumping as he fought his innermost urges to bury the man six feet under.
Jack must have seen her laughing, because he whispered, “Why are you laughing?”
“I get the feeling,” She whispered back. “that if Professor Milgard was murdered, there would be a LOT of suspects.”
“You got that right.” He laughed. “Name’s Hodgins.” He introduced himself.
“Brennan.” She replied, using her surname as he did. “Anthropology major. You?”
“Entomology. Bugs, slime, particulates. I’m only here because they just added this requirement to my major.”
“Mine, too.”
“Got something!” A voice rang out from two down the line.
“Stop!” Brennan ordered, as it was her job as team leader to order such things. She walked over to where the Rolf was standing. It was the young lady next to him.
She was kneeling in the leaves pointing at a drop of blood. “Blood on a leaf.” Brennan flagged it, then returned to her place in the line. “Go!” She ordered, and the line continued on its slow march.
“Are you working as a grad student, Brennan?” Hodgins asked
“I’m working under Dr. Stires at the local Morgue.”
“Nice.” He said sarcastically. “Planning on staying in the Chicago area?”
“Doubtful. Currently there are only six Forensic Anthropologists in the United States. It’s hard to say where my skills will be needed. You?”
“I’m graduating next month.”
“Me, too.”
Hodgins’ cool blue eyes reflected Tempe’s as he continued, “I’m working on my doctorate as we speak. My thesis is on the effects of Musca domestica larvae on the decomposition of the human eye.”
Brennan, not the normal girl, did not wince at the image and nodded approvingly. “Fascinating. And after you achieve your doctorate?”
“I’m applying at the Jeffersonian Institution in Washington, DC. They’re at the top of their game for Etymology Sciences. You?”
“I–I’m not sure. I suppose I’m going to apply wherever a Forensic Anthropologist is needed. Do they need one at the Jeffersonian?”
“Not that I know of, but I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
“Found one!” A voice chimed out. Brennan found the voice and repeated the same procedure: halting, flagging, proceeding.
“We can exchange email addresses afterward.” Brennan confided. She felt much more comfortable with email than with phone conversations. She could always go back, delete, and edit the things she said with a keyboard.
Last edited by ForensicMama on Sun Jul 27, 2008 4:08 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sun Jul 27, 2008 4:07 pm
Chapter 9
------------------------------------------
A Month Later…
Seeley Booth found his way through the egg-shell painted walls of the hospital’s OB-GYN ward. He came to the secretary and introduced himself, saying he was looking for Rebecca. She pointed the way. His stomach seemed to be tap dancing. He knocked and he heard some shuffling before Rebecca said he could come in.
He entered the little room and saw her, her feet in stirrups and a paper sheet covering her up. “Hi, Seeley. The doctor said he should be in in a few minutes.”
“OK. How have you been, Rebecca? Any morning sickness?”
“Seeley, first of all, I don’t need you being sympathetic and sh–.”
“Rebecca, I’m not being sym-Well, I am, but I’m just concerned about the pregnancy. OK?”
“Fine. Take a seat.”
He pulled up a chair next to Rebecca, who lay on the table.”Do you need anything?” He asked.
“No, Seeley. I’m doing fine. I haven’t had any morning sickness, so I’m fine in that department. I probably should go up a jean size, though.”
“You could just wear those pants with the stretchy elastic stuff on them.”
“You mean maternity jeans? Not yet, Seeley, I’m only 13 weeks. I’m not going to go around wearing drapes at this stage in pregnancy. Most people I see don’t know I’m pregnant. I’d like to keep up that illusion as long as I can.”
“Oh.”
The doctor entered at that time. “Rebecca, how have you been?”
“Fine, Dr. Sawyer. This is Seeley Booth. He’s the baby’s father.”
“Nice to meet you.” The doctor held out his hand, which was firmly grasped. “Now, let’s get this show on the road.” He first did a PAP, then he checked for the baby’s heartbeat. The thud-thud-thud filled Booth’s ears and instantly, and unexpectedly, he was in love with the tiny little person in Rebecca’s womb.
“Wow.” He whispered.
“Next we’ll do a vaginal ultrasound, determine your due date.” He did so. Rebecca winced in pain at first, then relaxed. “There he is!” He said.
A part of Seeley was surprised at how the baby, at only thirteen weeks, had legs, and arms, and fingers, and toes… “Wow…”
“Looks like the due date you picked out was right on. About August should be right.”
Suddenly the world didn’t seem half so cold…
------------------------------------------
A Month Later…
Seeley Booth found his way through the egg-shell painted walls of the hospital’s OB-GYN ward. He came to the secretary and introduced himself, saying he was looking for Rebecca. She pointed the way. His stomach seemed to be tap dancing. He knocked and he heard some shuffling before Rebecca said he could come in.
He entered the little room and saw her, her feet in stirrups and a paper sheet covering her up. “Hi, Seeley. The doctor said he should be in in a few minutes.”
“OK. How have you been, Rebecca? Any morning sickness?”
“Seeley, first of all, I don’t need you being sympathetic and sh–.”
“Rebecca, I’m not being sym-Well, I am, but I’m just concerned about the pregnancy. OK?”
“Fine. Take a seat.”
He pulled up a chair next to Rebecca, who lay on the table.”Do you need anything?” He asked.
“No, Seeley. I’m doing fine. I haven’t had any morning sickness, so I’m fine in that department. I probably should go up a jean size, though.”
“You could just wear those pants with the stretchy elastic stuff on them.”
“You mean maternity jeans? Not yet, Seeley, I’m only 13 weeks. I’m not going to go around wearing drapes at this stage in pregnancy. Most people I see don’t know I’m pregnant. I’d like to keep up that illusion as long as I can.”
“Oh.”
The doctor entered at that time. “Rebecca, how have you been?”
“Fine, Dr. Sawyer. This is Seeley Booth. He’s the baby’s father.”
“Nice to meet you.” The doctor held out his hand, which was firmly grasped. “Now, let’s get this show on the road.” He first did a PAP, then he checked for the baby’s heartbeat. The thud-thud-thud filled Booth’s ears and instantly, and unexpectedly, he was in love with the tiny little person in Rebecca’s womb.
“Wow.” He whispered.
“Next we’ll do a vaginal ultrasound, determine your due date.” He did so. Rebecca winced in pain at first, then relaxed. “There he is!” He said.
A part of Seeley was surprised at how the baby, at only thirteen weeks, had legs, and arms, and fingers, and toes… “Wow…”
“Looks like the due date you picked out was right on. About August should be right.”
Suddenly the world didn’t seem half so cold…
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sun Jul 27, 2008 4:10 pm
Chapter 10
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December had come for Temperance Brennan. She stood in front of her mirror for perhaps the longest time she remembered ever looking into it. She and Angela went out onto the town the night before and found a beautiful blue-green dress that matched her eyes perfectly. She also had her cut. It no longer reached past her mid-back. Now it was short and curled sweetly around her ears. She also invested in something she hadn’t since her high school prom: make-up. A whole new set. Angela was a genius when it came to these things.
Her cell phone rang and she answered it. “Hey, Ange.”
“Are you ready? I’ve found my spot. I’ll be directly behind the Education grads. Sorry I couldn’t get a better spot. The place was packed before I even got here.”
“I’m just glad you’re going to be there.”
“Of course, Bren. You’re the closest thing you have to family in the world. I’m your sister, not just your friend.”
“Thanks, Ange. I’m heading out right now. I’ll try to find you before the ceremony starts.”
“OK.” The phones clicked off.
…….
The graduates lined up by order of their major first, then their last names next, so Temperance Brennan was only about twenty people from the front of the entire line of over six hundred graduates.
She stood quietly for a while until she saw a familiar face approaching her. It wasn’t Angela, it was Dr. Stires. “Tempe.” He greeted her.
“Hi… Dr. Stires.” She said stiffly.
“Miss Brennan.” He corrected himself. “You look fantastic.” Tempe was surprised to catch a tone of approval she hadn’t caught before on his breath.
“Thank you.”
“Seriously.. wow! You look really great.”
“I’m wearing a trash bag.” She referred to the black graduate gown she was wearing.
“Well, your hair and you’re wearing make up and heals and… wow!”
“Are you saying that you don’t think I looked good before?” Her voice rose and the students around her turned their heads with curiosity.
“Uh… Miss Brennan…” He said, trying to quiet her.
“Michael, I just don’t understand you.”
“I’ll call you later… um, about those tests…” He backed away, fully aware of the eyes all on him.
“Well, if it’s a physical exam, Michael, you’re out of luck.” Brennan crossed her arms.
Jill skipped up to Michael and put her arm around his waist, “Hey, Michael, I saved a seat for you.”
Stires looked like a drowning cat. “Look, Tempe–”
“Oh, who’s this?” Jill asked.
“Just a student that I tutor.” He was quick to answer.
“Oh, the bonehead.” She whispered.
Brennan’s cheeks glowed with anger. She crossed her arms on her chest. “It’s true that I have a skull, Dr. Baker.” She said to Jill.
“That’s not what I mean. Don’t be so sensitive.” She sneered at the lowly grad student.
Brennan’s harsh look softened and she replied, “Michael hasn’t been tutoring me. He’s been having sex with me.”
“What?”
“For the past year. Perhaps that’s why I aced his class?” The students around who were within earshot all gasped.
“No, no, Tempe… You aced because you’re… you’re… not because we’re…”
Brennan reached back her fist and swung at his jaw, effectively pushing his body to the ground. He lay on the ground rubbing his jaw. “Jeez, Tempe!”
The line began to move and the graduation march began to play. Tempe looked down at her freshly manicured nail, then back up to Jill, who was standing with a very shocked look on her face. “He broke my nail.”
The line proceeded into the main hall where the students took their seats. Tempe sat in her spot, her heart pounding with adrenaline and anger.
After the ceremony, Angela found Tempe quickly. She could see that when she received her diploma and shook the college president’s–Dr. Hewitt’s–hand she did not smile. She simply whipped the diploma out of her hand and walked off the stage. Was Tempe angry? Yes. Was she upset? Absolutely. It wasn’t the fact that he cheated on her. She did not mind that, actually. She understood the anthropological need for sexual and mental intimacy. Perhaps Dr. Jill Baker had something she did not that Michael craved. Nonetheless, the feeling of hurt washed over her without her asking for it. She only had one person in her whole life that she considered family and that was Angela. She once considered Michael a very close friend, but now she felt he could never be that if he cared so little for her that he felt he had to sneak around behind her back.
Angela knew all of this. Their friendship in the past two months had deepened to the point that they felt like sisters more than friends and she embraced Tempe in a warm hug. “Stires is a stupid jerk, Bren. Next time I see him, I’ll kick him in the balls for you.”
“Thanks, Ange.” She laughed between her tears. “Just make sure you wear stilettos.”
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Sun Jul 27, 2008 4:10 pm
Chapter 11
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August 2001
——
The wait was unbearable. Seeley Booth paced in the waiting room at the Women’s Hospital of Maryland.
“Seeley, sit down.” His mother, Jean, coaxed.
“I can’t, mom. Every time I sit down I start thinking about Parker. Is he here yet? Is Rebecca OK?” He ran the fingers of his right hand through his dark hair.
Jean stood and walked toward him. “You’re going to be a great father, Seeley Booth. And I know it.”
Booth glanced at his own father, his white hair cut in an old fashioned soldier’s crew cut, his head leaning on his rolled up jacket, snoring softly. It had been hours since they first started the waiting game. Rebecca didn’t want him in the delivery room, so he was reduced to waiting outside with his own mom and dad.
“How do you know, mom?”
Jean’s brown eyes sparkled as much as brown eyes can. “I know it. I just know it. I see it in you ever day. I’ve seen it in you since the day you were born. You’re nurturing. You’re going to be a great father.” Seeley pulled her into a hug and rested his chin on the top of her head, as she was much shorter than he was.
“Thanks, mom. I needed to hear that.” He said softly.
“Son,” She said, equally as soft. “Rebecca really missed out.”
“Yeah?” His chin moved around on her head as he spoke.
“Yeah. You’re such a sweet boy. Listen,” She pulled back and patted his chest with her two pale wrinkled hands. “I might be almost sixty, but I do know a good man when I see one. One of these days, you’re gonna meet a woman who just needs you to take care of her.”
“Nah, mom. I don’t think I want a woman who feels like she needs to be taken care of by me.”
“No?”
“No. I think it would be better to have her fall in love with me and WANT me although she doesn’t NEED me.”
“You’re a smart man, Seeley.” She winked at him. Her brown eyes followed movement in the doorway and Booth followed her gaze.
A nurse in pink and blue printed scrubs came into the waiting room. She scanned the room for eyes that met hers. When she did, she walked up to man and older woman. She looked at Seeley, seeing as he was young enough to be a new father. “Are you Seeley Booth?”
“Yes.” He replied shortly.
“Rebecca asked me to come get you. She’s ready now.”
“Are they OK? I mean, Rebecca and Parker. Are they OK?”
“Yeah. They’re doing great. A normal vaginal delivery. Your son is in the warmers as we speak. Follow me. Immediate family for now.” She held out a hand, gesturing for only Booth to follow her. She made her way down the hall to a room situated in a corner. She opened the door and let him enter first.
Booth’s eyes fell on Rebecca sitting on the bed. She looked exhausted and ready for a nap, her blond hair was pulled tightly back in a ponytail and the parts near her hairline were moist with sweat. In her arms was a very small little infant with a blue cap. “Seeley.” She said weakly.
“Are you OK?” He was concerned. Rebecca was always fire and gusto. She was very rarely weak and tired.
“Yeah. Just tired. I did just push out a seven pound baby.”
“Sorry.” He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. Unfortunately, that miraculous and wonderful moment as not picture perfect. A man with a baseball cap and brown jacket sat in the corner. The new boyfriend. Booth ignored him. He didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. That made it better to swallow the fact that some other man saw his son be born into the world. “He’s beautiful.” He muttered. Parker lay in the crook of his mother’s elbow. His pink cheeks blushed rosy red against the blue fabric of his blanket.
Rebecca lifted his cap to reveal white blond hair. “He’s got your hair, Seeley.”
“Yeah, he does.” He smiled with pride. At that moment, he realized that it didn’t matter who saw his son grow up. Parker would always be his. He was marked, in a way. He would always carry a part of his genes. He would always look just like him. He would always be a part of him. Booth reached over and with his thumb and forefinger, he lifted Parker’s little curled up fist from the blanket. With his other fist, he lightly bumped it with his. “Welcome to the world, Buddy… I love you.”
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Mon Jul 28, 2008 6:30 am
Chapter 12
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Almost a year after graduation for Tempe Brennan. It was nearing the end of August 2001. She was working part time in Chicago’s Southside Morgue under Dr. Cheryl Dwight. Dr. Dwight was a Morgue Tech. She had never set eyes on a Forensic Anthropologist before. There was no true need for one in the Richard M. Daley offices, but Temperance Brennan had found a place for herself there.
Shortly after graduation, Tempe dressed in a neat suit and marched down to the RMD buildings. She found Dr. Dwight and TOLD her that her presence would be advantageous to the system. She was her usual persistant self and after no longer than fifteen minutes, she was hired part time. Of course she took the job immediately.
A murder was brought into the morgue. A child. Dr. Dwight pulled back her soft blondish hair in a pony tail, then covered it with a puffy blue cap before unzipping the body bag. She glanced sideways at Tempe as she did so, studying her reactions. Brennan sucked in air sharply at the sight of the child, bluish gray, his eyelids half open with bloodstained red orbs peeping out beneath the lids.
Cheryl quickly covered his face and laid a gentle hand on Tempe’s arm. “Kids make it hard, Tempe.” Those were the same words Tempe would later use for a dear friend named Zack, although she did not know it. “Is this your first case involving a child?”
“Yes.” She whispered, barely moving sound waves.
“You can sit this one out, if you like.”
“No. This won’t be my last child case. I’ll just have to learn how to compartmentalize. Focus on the facts at hand.”
“That’s my girl.” Tempe had become as much a daughter to Dr. Dwight as her own three children that she birthed. She saw Brennan growing and blossoming every day. She came into the Morgue eight months ago a determined strong-willed young woman who had never experienced the real world. Tempe Brennan, she thought, still had a lot of growing to do. Even geniuses learn new things.
Brennan grabbed a camera and began to take photos of the child’s body with a large black Nikon. She stepped onto a stool and began to take the photos from all angles as Cheryl did her intial observations. After several minutes, an X-Ray tech came in and rolled the body away for stills.
“Tempe, why don’t you just go home? I’ve got it here.”
Usually, Brennan would fight it, but instead she removed her latex gloves from her shaking hands and exited the building. Angela was miraculously waiting for her. Brennan smiled and raised a brow as she approached the car. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d find you here. I was about to go in and hunt you down like a stray dog, sweetie.”
Tempe sat in the little yellow Beetle and pulled the seat belt around her. She sat quietly for a moment, trying desperately to erase the photos from her mind of the child with the rope burns around his neck.
“What’s wrong?” Angela asked.
The tendons in Tempe’s neck tightened as she awakened from her memories. “Nothing, Ange.”
“Bren…!”
“There was a child, Ange.” Brennan looked over at her friend, her cool blue eyes welling with tears. “Six or seven years old.”
“Oh, G-d, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
Bren quickly wiped away the tear and calmed herself. “I’m OK, Ange, really. It’s just… It’s really hard to see.”
“I can’t imagine… Are you sure you wanna do this for a living?”
“Yeah, Ange.” Bren sat a little on her side so she could face Ange who was in the driver’s seat. “I know this sounds strange, but… ever since my parents disappeared, I… I don’t know, it sounds silly, but I feel that maybe I can give people the hope that I never had. You know… help them find their loved ones.”
“I wish I could do something like that. It’s really noble of you, sweetie. Finding the bad guy…”
“Art is just as noble, Ange.”
“Which is why I’m here.”
“Oh?” Brennan looked to her left with curiosity in her eyes.
“I’m going to Paris. Next week. I know it’s short notice–”
“You’re… you’re leaving?” Brennan tried to hide her disappointment. There goes another loved one leaving her!
Angela saw that look and quickly covered Tempe’s hand with hers. “I’ll only be gone for a year or so. Then I’m coming back.”
“Promise?”
Angela leaned forward and kissed her friend on the cheek. “I promise, sweetie. Have I ever broken a promise with you? No. I haven’t. Besides, I’ll make it up to you by scanning and emailing my nudes to you.” She smiled devilishly.
“Maybe you could do one of George Clooney for me.” Bren smiled.
“I’ve already got one of George. George, Leo, Brad… I’ve got them all.” The two exchanged laughter.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Mon Jul 28, 2008 6:31 am
Chapter 13
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September 11th, 2001
Washington D.C.
Seeley Booth was awoken some time after ten in the morning to his cell phone ringing. It happened to be his day off, so he was snoozing late into the morning as he usually did on those days. His hands fumbled for the phone. He fell back onto the sheets and with his eyes closed, he answered groggily. “Booth.”
Rebecca’s frantic speech immediately drew his eyes open as one yanks on the long cotton loop of a window’s shade. “Rebecca? What’s wrong? Is Parker OK?” He sat up, ready to throw his jeans on and run out of the house.
Through sobs, Rebecca replied. “Oh, G-d, Seeley, turn on the news now! Something horrible. Oh, G-d!”
A chill ran through Booth’s body. Every hair stood up on his neck as he turned on the news. The video of the plane running into the Towers played over and over like a deja vu nightmare. “Oh… G-d!” The cell phone slipped from his hand and fell to the carpet as he knelt in front of the television.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Mon Jul 28, 2008 6:31 am
Chapter 14
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On that same day, the now Dr. Temperance Brennan was working in the morgue all alone. Her fingers plunged into the body cavity, roaming around the cold mucousy organs that stuck dryly to her fingers like paint on a warm day, sliding around them like cold sticky half-full balloons.
The X-Radiographer threw the door open with a force. Tempe raised her head quickly. “J-sus, George!” She snapped at him.
“You’ve gotta see this, Dr. Brennan!” His brown eyes were wide and frightened. She usually would ignore him, but something in his voice made her pull off her bloody gloves and toss them in the red Hazards box as she left the Morgue. She followed George down the corridor and into the small windowless lunch room where employees and staff were gathered around breathlessly watching the horrendous scenes unfold.
Brennan watched in horror. She quietly watched the same video playing then looping over and over again. The women in the room, with the exception of herself, were sobbing helplessly. Even the men wiped salty drops of tears from their eyes. Temperance did not cry. She thought of the aftermath more than the current events. She couldn’t help but to imagine the thousands of pieced, missing, burned victims that would be dragged from the wreckage.
Without a second thought, she pushed her way through the crowd to the nearest computer and looked up the Jeffersonian Institution’s phone number. They were the utmost in Forensic Anthropology on the East Coast. It was common knowledge that the most dubious of cases were sent their way. After several transfers a man with a deep African American voice answered the phone. His voice was crestfallen as he spoke, “Dr. Goodman speaking.”
“Hello? My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan. I’m a Forensic Anthropologist. I live in Chicago, Illinois.”
Silence.
“I saw the news this morning, and I was hoping that my services could be of use to you in the coming weeks. I’m willing to volunteer my knowledge, sir. I’m not looking for a job.”
He cleared his throat and with a shakier tone, he said, “Yes, Dr. Brennan. We will most definitely be in need of specialists to sift through the ashes. I imagine within the next day we shall be in over our heads in remains.”
Temperance hoped that was hyperbole. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you, Dr. Brennan.” The phone clicked and Brennan sat with the phone still to her ear. She was in disbelief. Not only from the events of the day, but from her own actions. She was not one to act so rashly. She rose and quickly made it home to pack her things. All air traffic was frozen, meaning that no planes were allowed to fly, so she quickly rented a car and drove the 701 miles to her destination.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Mon Jul 28, 2008 6:32 am
Chapter 15
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The Jeffersonian Institution was abuzz with movement when Tempe entered the stark white main halls. It was fairly easy to find her way to the Medico Legal Lab. The Lab was located on the far East wing of the institution. Past the dinosaurs, to the left of the Air and Flight Museum. What seemed like hundreds or thousands of people in caps, masks, and disposable garments met her as she nervously entered the large laboratory room.
Her eyes immediately fell on a familiar face, or rather, familiar ice blue eyes. Not much else was visible because of the blue puffy cap and the mask. She walked over to him. He was sitting at his desk sifting through ash for shards of bone or flesh. “Hi, Dr. Hodgins.”
The man looked up and pulled back his mask. He had a huge grin on his face. “Dr. Brennan!”
“Hey, I’m looking for Dr. Goodman.”
“You workin’ here now?”
“No. I’m volunteering my knowledge.”
Jack’s smile quickly disappeared as he remembered the events of two days ago. “Yeah. We’ve gotten a lot of volunteers. Uh, Goodman’s in his office.” He pointed. “He’s the big African American guy.”
“Thank you.” Tempe turned and started to walk towards the office.
Jack called after her. “Hey, it’s nice to see you again.”
“You, too, Dr. Hodgins.” Tempe walked quickly towards Dr. Goodman’s office, her long skirt shifting side to side with her stride.
She knocked cautiously at the door when she came to it. A copper plate on the door read “Dr. D. Goodman” so she knew she was in the right place. She still felt anxious. Although it wasn’t a paid position, it was her first experience working as a forensic anthropologist outside of the morgue.
The door opened and a tall man with a wide smile greeted her. “Hello.” His voice was deep and melodic.
“I’m Dr. Temperance Brennan. I called two days ago. I’d like to help out as much as I can.”
“Excellent.” He held out a hand. “The remains are becoming to come in in droves. Every extra hand is a rose in the basket.”
Temperance didn’t understand the metaphor, but didn’t say a thing. “How can I help out?”
“Follow me.” Dr. Goodman led her though the lab and spoke as he walked. “You’ll be working under Dr. Paul Sawyer, our Forensic Anthropologist. He’s the one over there with the navy blue jacket. All of our employees have navy blue jackets. That’s how you’ll tell the difference. All others are volunteers, such as yourself.”
The facility was state of the art. It was a recent addition ten years before. The ceilings were high and stately. The lab tables and surfaces were shiny with cleanliness. The pair made their way around to Dr. Sawyer’s office. It was neat and dark with leather furniture and a black desk. Dr. Sawyer was at his desk. He was a man in his fifties, balding, overweight, but friendly looking. He raised his eyes from his work and smiled at the two as they entered the room. “Dr. Goodman.”
“Dr. Sawyer, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan. She will be lending her skills to our efforts.”
The man smiled and stood from his desk. He walked over and held out hsi hand to Temperance. “Good afternoon, Doctor.”
His grasp was firm. “Thank you, Dr. Sawyer.”
“You can help out in the lab. Dr. Hodgins will show you around. I hope you don’t mind. I’m quite busy.” He gestured to the stack of files on his desk.
“No problem, Dr. Sawyer.”
“If you give me a minute, I’ll show you to your station.”After several minutes of standing awkwardly in one spot, the doctor rose and showed her to a makeshift desk in the middle of the walkway. The lab was covered with such makeshift desks and morgue tables as people worked their hardest to identify remains. Within minutes of finding her station, she was given remains to begin the industrious task of identification on. Some remains were fairly straightforward with dentals being the main mode of identification. Others were more harrowing, needing complete reconstruction of skulls, some being set aside and taken to limbo where they would remain for years to come with no hope of identification in sight.
Despite the grizzly undertone to the whole investigation, it was thrilling for Tempe to work with some of the top Forensic Anthropologists in her field. It was a once in a lifetime chance. Being one of less than fifty people in her field, it was a treat to have worked with twelve in the course of the two months she spent at the Jeffersonian’s Medico Legal Lab.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Mon Jul 28, 2008 6:32 am
Chapter 16
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Not only did she work with Forensic Anthropologists and other scientists, she also had a few conversations with FBI Agents who worked occasionally with the lab. One such conversation would slip away, deep into memory only to be brought to the surface twelve years later at a certain wedding.
A tall man with darkish hair, which could have once been blond when he was a boy, and piercing brown eyes with greenish flecks wound through the makeshift desks looking for Dr. Goodman. It was five thirty in the morning, bright and early. Special Agent Seeley Booth, recently promoted and feeling cocky, found an empty lab to his surprise. He heard clinking from the corner of the lab and he wound his way through the stainless steel tables when he finally came to a woman in a gray lab jacket leaning over skull fragments and gluing carefully.
He noticed something unusual about this woman. As he approached her, she did not look up. Her blue eyes were as glued to the skull in her hand as the pieces themselves were glued to each other. He cleared his throat, hoping not to frighten her. She did not look up. He cleared it once again. Nothing. He stood silently. After a few seconds, she looked up with an irked look on her lips. “What do you want?” She snapped.
“Excuse me, Ice Queen.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s… it’s an expression.” He sounded like he was questioning himself as that sentence left his lips. Who wouldn’t get the sarcasm in his voice?
“Is it?” She looked back down at the skull. “I’ve never heard that expression.”
“I’m looking for Dr. Goodman.” He pushed his hands into his pockets.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” She sounded more annoyed at this point. She didn’t mean to sound annoyed, but at five thirty in the morning, she had not yet gone to sleep. She was up feeling very determined to help this man find his family. Her short comments were just a side effect of her exhaustion.
“Are you always such a–” He mentally edited his comment from PG-13 go a G rating. “snot?”
That got her attention. Her azure eyes lifted from her work at last, but they were darkened with disdain. “Who are you? Do you have security clearance?”
“I’m FBI.”
“Good for you.” Who was this man? Walking into the building like he owned the place?
It was clash of the personalities. “You know what?” He asked, pointing with the curled file in his right hand. “I don’t know who you are, but you need a cup of Joe… er something…”
“Who?”
“Soften the h-ll up. Dam-, you’re as hard as those bones you’re working with.”
Tempe breathed. He was right, whoever he was. She could feel the blood pounding in her forehead. She breathed deeply again. “I’m sorry… I haven’t gone to bed yet.”
“You realize it’s almost six, right?”
“Of course I realize that. I’m trying to reassemble this man’s skull so he can find his family.”
Booth’s face softened as he looked down. “I’m sorry, too. Truce?” He held out his fist for her to bump.
Her face looked blank. She looked at the man’s fist as a dog would look if he were offered a pumpkin for dinner. Booth put his fist away uncomfortably. “OK… So… I’ll just come back around whenever Dr. G’s in the building.” He walked away, and turned around when he reached the bottom of the stairs. “See ya around, Bones!”
Her eyes looked up with curiosity as she watched him leave the building. Was he referring to the skull in her hand? Or did he just assign a moniker to her? She shook her head and continued her work in silence.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Mon Jul 28, 2008 6:33 am
Chapter 17
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Two Years Later…
Over the past two years, Dr. Brennan spent her time traveling to different countries, wherever her knowledge was needed. The pay was not stable by any means. Most of it was volunteer, to tell the truth. Thankfully, local universities or governments would pay her way so she would identify bodies for them. Some were hundreds of years old, some millions, some weeks.
On a clear sunny day in Nepal, Brennan found her way to the nearest telephone. The market square in Kathmandu was full of Sunday shoppers. Women walking down the streets wearing traditional brightly hued saris, chow bandi choli, or flowing trousers walked through the square gathering ingredients for the evening meal. Men on bicycles sped through the square and wove through a group of children playing soccer with a brown handmade kickball.
Tempe, wearing flowing red trousers, a patterned blouse that draped over her shoulder–the combination known as majetro, and a gold necklace given to her by a local in the village, pressed a handful of silver rupees into the slot and dialed a number she had scrawled on a torn edge of notebook paper. When the man finally answered, she had to speak loud enough so that he could hear over the hubub of the market. As the first syllable left her lips, a cow mooed loudly, drowning out the sound. She turned her back on the beast, and spoke louder. “Sorry. Uh, is this Dr. Goodman?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
“This is Dr. Temperance Brennan. I worked with you two years ago after the 9/11 attacks. I heard that there was a position open for a Forensic Anthropologist. I sent in my resumee last week. I was hoping to check on its progress.”
“Yes, Dr. Brennan.” His voice sounded cheery as he recognized the woman’s name. “I did receive your resumee. I am very impressed with your qualifications. Perhaps we can schedule an interview?”
Temperance’s smile glittered, but she quickly tucked it away as she felt gritty dust cling to her teeth. “I’m glad to hear that you found my qualifications to your liking.”
“How’s next week?”
“For the interview? Yes, sir. I could schedule that in.” The two made a schedule and Tempe quickly wrote down the information on the back of the triangle of notebook paper. After she hung up, she pressed the paper… no pockets… she pressed it into her bra, hoping no men saw her do that. Nobody noticed, so she walked quickly through the square to her small rented room over a family’s two story home at the edge of town where she began packing.
—————————————————————-
—————————————————————-
Just as two years ago, as if it were deja vu, Temperance (she was rarely called Tempe by anyone nowadays) Brennan found her way through the halls of the Jeffersonian. She was late. Very late. Incredibly late. She wore a purple sari that was speckled with gold foil designs as she speed walked through the halls. Her face was warm from the exercise and from a feeling of embarrassment. She must have looked awful, and she knew it. Her hair was frizzy from the flight, the run, the walk, the exercise, the confusion… she smelled like nervous sweats as well. She knew that fact quite clearly.
She walked straight to Dr. Goodman’s office, trying desperately to ignore the eyes that followed her as she walked. The door opened and Dr. Goodman stood smiling behind it. “Dr. Brennan.”
He didn’t seem furious, to her surprise. She held out her hand. She once read that the handshake was very important in interviews. A firm, yet not too firm, yet not too weak, grasp. Eye contact. A jovial smile. He must have noticed that she was shaking. “Nervous?” He asked.
“No, sir. It’s actually a surge of adrenaline mixed with anxiety over the fact that I’m-” She looked at the clock on the wall-”three minutes late that’s causing me to shake like this.”
The man laughed at her assessment. “Take a seat, Dr. Brennan.” She took the seat. “So, I called your recent reference and I was glad to hear that you are returning from quite a prestigious project in Nepal, unearthing an ancient civilization.”
“That’s correct. We were unearthing the temple of King Manu. He is said to be the first king of Nepal. He ruled in the Age of Truth, or Satya Yuga.” The history lesson was unintended. It was a nervous tick, really. In times of stress, she often found herself reciting ancient history or other unnecessary information.
Dr. Goodman was not put off. “Fascinating. Listen, Dr. Brennan, I have reviewed three applications in the past six months and yours was the most impressive. Honestly, it’s one of the most impressive I have ever read from somebody in your field.” He held out his hand. “There’s no need for conventions when the right candidate for the job clearly sits before me. Congratulations.”
Temperance was taken aback. “Thank you, sir.”
“Please, Dr. Goodman. I think you will fit right in with our team, Dr. Brennan.”
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Tue Jul 29, 2008 8:42 am
Chapter 18
--------------------------------------------
Dr. Goodman was right. She did fit in with the team.
Almost a year later, she looked up from her desk, hearing Dr. Goodman's deep voice belting a tune in the hallway outside of her office. He was humming, actually, but with his voice it was belting. He strode into the office with a light foot... as light as a man of his stature could humanly be.
"Dr. Brennan. It's a nice day, is it not?"
"Yes. It is." She looked up from her computer screen. "You seem to be in a good mood!"
"Yes. An excellent mood. I feel like Lee after Appomattox."
Brennan smiled in his direction. "I take it that you got the grant?"
"That's correct. I would like to add at least three more positions in the coming years."
"Such as?" Temperance watched Goodman's face glow. She was surprised to have a memory of her brother, Russ, flood back to mind. A picture of Russ, age 12 tearing through his Christmas gifts and pulling out skateboard. Goodman had a childlike grin on his face. She smiled at the comparison of the two images in her mind.
"A forensic artist would be an impeccable addition to the team, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes." She shrugged. She'd never thought of that, exactly.
"Perhaps you can take on yet another team member, such as an assistant?"
"Like a grad student?"
"Precisely."
"The University has been goading me to take on a grad student for months now."
"Excellent, Dr. Brennan. Perhaps there is a student at the University would be a superb artist for our team?"
"I have a dear friend--her name is Angela Montenegro--she's an artist. Very talented in many media."
"Why don't you ask her to give me a call?" He clapped his hands together triumphantly and left the room, leaving Brennan feeling as if she'd just been struck with a tornado.
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Wed Jul 30, 2008 6:12 am
Chapter 19
--------------------------------------------------------
Angela was at her boyfriend's apartment in his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of his boxer shorts. They fit perfectly, considering the man was a little person, standing just under four feet tall. Her cell phone woke her from her sleep. She reached over groggily, her fingers seeking out the phone like a magnet seeking out a refrigerator. "Hello?"
Brennan was sitting at her desk in the Jeffersonian. It might have been nine AM in DC, but it was only six where she was. "Ange?"
"Bren? Jeez, did you have to call so early? The sun's hardly up."
"Are you still looking for a job?" Brennan tapped a pencil against her front teeth between sentences.
Angela sat up in bed, careful not to disturb her partner, Aaron. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I'm supposed to teach an art class next week, but--"
"Dr. Goodman is looking for a forensic artist. I suggested you."
"Why would you do that, sweetie? I don't even know what a forensic artist is."
"Basically, you look at skulls and create faces from them by taking cues from tissue markers. There are other things you can do in the job, create 3D scenarios of scenes, recreate a victim's clothing--"
"Woah, sweetie. I don't know how to do any of that."
"Angela, you're living with a man who plays the Mayor of Munchkinland for a living."
"And he's very good at it."
"And you're painting sets for a living. I know you have more potential than that, Ange. I've seen it."
Angela looked over at the sleeping Aaron then back at the cell phone. "I'll be there tomorrow."
Brennan let out the air from her lungs. "You can stay at my place."
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Wed Jul 30, 2008 3:45 pm
Chapter 20
--------------------------------
Angela stopped at the Jeffersonian. It was a cold day and she had a huge hand knitted sweater on--a remnant of an old boyfriend's mother. Brennan met her in the parking lot. "You're still driving that thing?" She referred to the old junker yellow bug.
"Painting sets doesn't exactly pay well." She smirked.
"Forensic artists get paid pretty well." Brennan smiled and wrapped her arm around Angela's waist.
Angela leaned her head on her friend's shoulder and wrapped her arm around Brennan's waist as they walked. "Hi, sweetie. I've really missed our conversations."
"Yeah, me, too."
"Any hotties work here?" Angela asked, always interested in the male population.
"Huh? Oh, I suppose."
"You suppose? Bren, seriously, when was the last time you got laid?"
"Are you speaking of intercourse?"
"Yes, Reverend Mother. So when was the last time?"
"A while ago. I've been really involved in my new career."
"Girl, seriously!"
The two entered the halls of the Jeffersonian.
"Do you have a resume?" Brennan asked.
"No."
"Ange!"
"What? Sorry! I only was told about this yesterday!"
"Well, luckily for you, you have a genius for a best friend and I have one for you. It's on my desk."
"Thank you, sweetie!" She squeezed her friend's waist.
They entered the main halls of the Medico Legal lab. Brennan jogged ahead to her office and brought back the resume for Angela. Angela snatched it from her hand then entered Goodman's office.
The doors closed behind her, leaving Brennan alone for several minutes outside of the halls. As she waited, a tall man... vaguely familiar looking, with darkish hair and eyes, wearing a suit walked up to Brennan.
"Need something?" She asked.
"I was just looking for Goodman." Booth replied.
"He's interviewing somebody right now. Perhaps I can take a message for you?"
Booth looked at her for several seconds before replying. "We've met before."
"No, I don't think we have."
"Bones!" He said as he pointed at her.
"Was that a nickname or are you making a reference to my weight?" She scanned her wardrobe.
"It's a nickname."
"Well, I don't like it."
"But that's who you are, right? The Bone Lady. You're Bones!"
"I have a name and it's Dr. Temperance Brennan."
"I like Bones better." He said, smirking.
"Well, you can call me Brennan."
"Eh, too formal, Bones."
"Don't call me Bones." She crossed her arms over her chest.
"I see you're wearing a blue jacket this time round. You're here to stay?"
"Have I been hired, you're asking? Yes. Yes I have."
"I'm Booth, by the way."
"I didn't ask your name." She was more than a little annoyed by this guy.
"Yup. You're Bones. Bones you'll always be."
"Well--Booth--you can come back another time. Are you going to leave a message, or should I just tell him a big ogre came by demanding his presence to be seen?"
"Ogre? You know what, lady? You're cold as ice."
"Very poetic of you." She said sarcastically.
He stuck his finger in her face. "You're lucky."
"Why's that?"
"My mom told me never to hit a girl."
"Interesting. My mother told me that if a guy gets in my face, I should kick it out of of my view."
"Did you just threaten an FBI Agent?"
"Maybe." She raised a brow.
"That's a federal crime."
"Lock me up."
"I will."
She held out her wrists. Booth hesitated.
"Fine. Here's my message. Got a piece of paper?" He said this with a rather sarcastic slur.
"Sure." She pulled out an imaginary pen and paper. "Speak."
"Tell Dr. Goodman that I came by looking for his forensic archaeologist and instead I came across the White Witch."
"Anthropologist." She corrected, dropping the imaginary utensils.
"Huh?"
"Forensic Anthropologist... I'm a forensic anthropologist."
"Oh... sh-t." He cursed. The two stared each other down. "You're the--"
"Uh, huh."
"Fun...."
"Really fun."
It was a showdown of wits. Booth was wishing he could just whip out his gun. Brennan was hoping she could do the same thing.
The door opened and Dr. Goodman and Angela emerged.
"I've got the job!" Angela squealed. She almost threw her arms around her friend, but was frozen by the icy stares Booth and Brennan were exchanging.
"I see you've met our new forensic anthropologist, Agent Booth?" Goodman asked.
"We met." Booth replied, gritting his teeth and forcing a smile.
"She's quite intelligent. Top of her field."
"Yeah, she's just peachy."
"I'm glad you two like each other, because you'll be working together a lot. Now if you excuse me, I have case files to go over before I leave for home. Linda is cooking pork chops tonight. I'd hate to be late for that." He closed the door with a grin, oblivious of the dangerous looks Booth and Brennan were exchanging.
"Wow, Bren. When I asked if there were any hotties, why didn't you mention this one?" Angela spied Booth.
Booth pointed at Bones. "If we're going to work together, then you better defrost, Bones." He turned and left the building in a huff.
"Bones? That man sure has a way with words... and could his a$$ get any tighter?"
"Angela, that man is a worm. Pay no attention to him."
She turned and left for her office with Angela following behind. "You should probably take his advice, sweetie."
Brennan froze in her tracks. "Are you taking Booth's side?"
"Yeah. Maybe if you defrost, you two can have a romp on the kitchen table." Angela grinned.
"He's a low life."
"A low life with a hot body."
Changing the subject, Brennan stood and said, "I'll show you around the lab."
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by Memphis Mon Aug 04, 2008 1:50 pm
OMG...yay...I love it...PPS...
Where are you??? I miss you, mama!!!
Where are you??? I miss you, mama!!!
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Tue Aug 05, 2008 3:34 am
Hey! Oh I was gone for the weekend. I'm so glad someone's reading. I'll be posting more this evening. 
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Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by Memphis Tue Aug 05, 2008 4:33 am
yay.....I don't get off until 6...but I can't wait!!!
Memphis- Forensic Artist
- Number of posts : 154
Age : 37
Location : West Memphis, Arkansas
Say What You Want : Hmm..I'm very down to earth!! I'm in LOVE with Justin Timberlake! Music is my life!! I'm learning how to play guitar! I'm very opinionated and I speak my mind. Anything else?? Just ask....
Registration date : 2008-07-19 -
Re: The Pre-Partnership Era (Grad School til they Met...) K+
by ForensicMama Tue Aug 05, 2008 5:48 am
Chapter 21
__________________________________________________________
Two days passed before Booth decided he could no longer avoid the Jeffersonian. The case simply could not be put off any longer. Booth kicked himself as he marched into the Jeffersonian. He was the one who had gotten himself into this whole mess. If he hadn't thought that getting out of his element after Rebecca left him was such a great idea, then he wouldn't be here. Today. Marching into the Jeffersonian. Ready to talk to the Ice Queen. Bones was certainly a suitable nickname. For one, he didn't have to use any formal names such as 'doctor' to boost her ego. As if it needed to be boosted any more! Secondly, he didn't have to be on a first name basis with the Dark Princess. Booth snickered as he imagined Brennan with devil horns and a pitchfork. Bones was a good name. Cold, lifeless... Bones.
Booth walked into the Medico Legal lab and scanned the room. No Bones. He felt relieved for a moment. Then he realized he would have to seek her out. Then he felt a feeling of anxiety. Great anxiety.
He walked around the lab reading every inscription on the gold plates on the doors. Eventually he came across the plate that said Dr. Temperance Brennan then below that, Forensic Anthropologist.
"Temperance, huh?" His brow raised. Being a good Catholic boy, he knew that meant restraint... "Fitting," he snickered. He would need a lot of restraint with this one.
He knocked firmly on the door. He imagined her jumping at the sound.
After a second, the door opened. Brennan recognized him, but her face remained still and blank like an empty canvas. "May I help you, sir?" That ought to make him mad. A man not worth remembering.
Booth cocked his head to the side. "Funny. You know you remember me, Bones. And I remember you."
"Call me Bones again and I'll rip your larynx out."
"And I'll have you locked up."
"Did you come here just to threaten me--"
"Threaten you? You threatened me first!" By now all eyes in the lab were turned in their direction.
In a louder tone, she finished her sentence, "Or do you need me for a case?"
"Yes! I do need you for a case. But that doesn't mean I want you."
"Good because I don't want you and I'll never want you." Her lips tightened. Were they talking about the case any more? She sighed, "What do you need, Booth?"
"Ah! You do remember me!"
"What do you need?" She practically shouted this.
"I have a body. Shallow grave outside the city."
Brennan's face lightened. "I'm sorry. I'm busy." The door closed.
Booth leaned his forehead against the door. This woman was a damn ice cube. "Open the door, Bones!"
The door reopened. "Fine. I'm sorry. OK? Look, if I can't get your help, I could always go and find the nearest forensic archaeologist."
"Anthropologist... and the nearest forensic anthropologist, besides myself, is 490 miles north of here. I'm not sure the FBI would appreciate you putting that kind of expense on your daily budget." She said this very snidely and Booth flinched.
"I said I was sorry. Why can't we put aside all of this hoo-haw and be civil?" Her face was blank and she was very still. "For the job?" There was a glimmer of light in those blue eyes.
"Fine. But I want to fully participate in the case."
"I don't think so, Bones. Get your coat! I'll give you a ride."
Brennan grabbed her jacket, then chastised herself, Too early to ask for full participation.
The ride in the black SUV was very quiet. Neither wanted to talk to the other. It was better that way, really. They weren't exactly friends... yet.
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