Serendipity, ch. 1-5.
1.
"Bren, I have that reconstruction for you." I turned around from the exam table, looked at my best friend. "Oh, great, I'll be right there."
"Are you OK?" You don't look so hot."
"I think I'm getting a cold. I've got a headache and everything smells funny." I wasn't surprised. I'd been working too much, even by my standards, since Zack had gone to the hospital, and I hadn't yet had the courage or energy to start looking for a replacement.
"Sounds more like a migraine. Did you take anything?"
"I don't get migraines. And you know I avoid taking medicine."
"Save me the evolution argument. Your forehead's all scrunchy. Tell me you at least ate something."
I was silent. I'd actually had half a piece of toast, but it made me nauseous. "Toast." Just a little lie.
"Not enough. You finish up, I'll get you some crackers and ginger ale. Meet me in my office."
"Diet, please." She snorted. "Like you need it."
"Actually, the impact of sugar on one's teeth is well-documented."
"Bren, finish up." I wasn't in the mood to argue. Ten minutes later, I found the fatal stab wound, marked it for the graduate student of the week to image (one more reason to have a headache), and headed to Ange's office. Every step set my head pounding. Maybe it was time for an analgesic.
"Food first, face second," Ange said, pressing a packet of saltines into my hand as I sat on her sofa. Ugh, did she know how much sodium was in these? Nevertheless, I unwrapped them, took one, chewed, swallowed. The ginger ale helped me wash it down, though it sloshed a bit in my stomach. I chewed, rinsed, repeated until all the crackers were gone.
"I think I'll take that analgesic." Angela raised her eyebrows, but said nothing as she went to her desk and returned with a bottle. I shook out two, and Angela shook out two more. "You need four." I raised my eyebrows. Ow. My forehead even hurt. "Just listen to me, Bren." I accepted the pills, swallowed them dry. Angela grimaced. "At least let me get you another soda." "I'm fine. Face, please?"
We walked to the Angelator, and I marvelled again at the gift it was-- to us, the FBI, the families. "You know, this really is a wonder. You may denigrate your abilities, Angela, but I could never do this." Ange looked slightly surprised. I needed to compliment her more often, I decided.
"Bones!" Booth called from out by the platform. The yell made my head throb, and I involuntarily put my hand to my temple.
"Bren..."
"I'm fine. In Angela's office..." I called.
Booth strode in. He wore his Rangers belt buckle and a pink and orange tie emblazoned with yellow-striped beach umbrellas. On a normal day, the tie would have hurt my eyes. Today, it was like staring at the sun. I hoped his socks were a little more mellow. "A face on the stabbing?"
"Yes. I'm running it through the databased right now, along with the dentals." Booth smiled a version of his charm smile at Angela, saying "You're the bomb, Angela." He turned to me, frowned, and said "You look like death."
"Nice to see you too. Headache." Forestalling the inevitable interrogation, as if I were a five-year old incapable of taking care of myself, I added, "Yes, I ate. Yes, I took an analgesic. Where's the body?"
"Forest Park."
"Messy?"
"Just like you like 'em."
I started out of the room to grab my it. "Bren, are you sure you should go?"
I turned back. "Ange, it's just a headache. Those pills will kick in any moment. I'll be fine."
Booth frowned, saying, "Bones, you do look sick. Maybe you should let our boys do the digging today."
"I'm fine, I just need some fresh air." As I walked away, Angela called out, "Only you would think excavating a body counts as 'fresh air!'"