Chapter Text
Regina
Even all these months after Ian ravaged the city of Fort Myers, human remains are still being found in devastated neighborhoods across the city. Cadaver dogs are being used to search for people still unaccounted for. Makeshift morgues still exist in warehouses, schools, and churches throughout the area. In one of those church morgues, I spend a couple of weeks assisting. Dozens of people in blue scrubs are examining cadavers. Donnie Mullins, an orderly, is wheeling a body from one room to another. Dr. Lorenzo Gonzalez, the medical examiner, joins him as he walks past. They continue their conversation as they walk.
Dr. Gonzalez pats Mullins on the back and says, “You look tired, Donnie. Late night?”
“Oh, yeah. Late and nasty.”
“Some kinky creature?”
“Doc, the girl, Carrie's, a serious perv swerve.” Donnie pushes the body into the autopsy room and stops in front of me. I am writing up my notes in a chart on another body. I smile listening to the conversation.
“Feeling wrong feels so good,” says Dr. Gonzalez with a grin.
“Hey, sorry, Dr. Mills.”
“No, it's fine. Males often bond by exaggerating sexual conquests.”
“Oh, Donnie's not exaggerating. This girl is seriously turned on by coffins. Donnie will take her into the cooler…”
Donnie flushes pink and yells, “Doc!”
From my laptop set up on a computer behind me, Jefferson says, “Some libidos are inflamed by a proximity to death.”
“Who's that?”
“My assistant, Jefferson, back in D.C.” I turn the rolling table around so the monitor screen with Jefferson is facing Donnie.
“Congratulations on your coffin sex,” says Jefferson.
Dr. Gonzalez tries not to laugh.
Donnie Mullins, obviously feeling embarrassed, says, “I've got work to do.” Donnie exits in a hurry. I head towards the new body Donnie carried in and put on my gloves to get back to work.
“Some of the information you sent for analysis seems to have come from remains that have already been embalmed,” says Jefferson.
“Bodies were unearthed by the flooding. They have to be I.D.'d and reburied.”
“I could fly down there to help, Dr. Mills.”
I shake my head knowing why Jefferson suddenly offered to fly down and offer assistance. "A." Tomorrow is my last day. And "B." The sex on the coffin thing is not guaranteed.” I examined the decomposed skull of the body.
Lorenzo, who is on the other side of the examining table, walks around to the end of it as he talks. “You know there are reasons they call this the Sunshine State even after Hurricane Ian.” He tries to rest his hand on a tray with surgical instruments but knocks the tray off. Everything crashes to the floor. I look up shocked by the noise and laugh a little.
Dr. Emilio Jackson, the assistant to the medical examiner, enters the room with a file on the body I have been looking at. He is followed by Detective Celia Hill and a uniformed police officer. Detective Hill has been in and out of the morgue since I arrived. She was a no-nonsense biracial detective with curly hair.
“Dr. Mills, meet John Doe 361,” says Dr. Jackson.
“We found this one in the 9th Ward sticking out of the mud,” explains Detective Hill.
“Good afternoon, Detective Hill.” Assessing the body I note, “Male. Forties.”
“Badly decomposed,” adds Dr. Jackson. “Looks pretty banged up.” Jackson hands the chart to Lorenzo across the examining table.
“It’d be nice to know if it was a hurricane, flood, or foul play that killed him,” says Detective Hill.
Dr. Gonzalez glances at the chart and then says, “Detective Hill, have you been into the cooler lately? Some libidos are inflamed by the proximity to death.”
Emilio and I lock eyes before shaking our heads in disbelief.
Detective Hill frowns, disgusted. “God, Lorenzo. Thinking about sex in this place should be illegal, if it ain't already.” Detective Hill and the police officer left. Dr. Jackson leans over the skull and sees something strange. Dr. Jackson begins to leave the room and meets Ricardo Auguste, an orderly, as he is entering. “Looks like there's something lodged behind his teeth. We’re going to need x-rays.” Ricardo nods his head and comes into the room to take John Doe 361 for X-rays.
I am covering the body with plastic as Dr. Gonzalez talked to me. “You've been working 48 hours straight. You need the evening off.”
“I only have one vacation day left.”
“What are you doing penance for FEMA? Why don't you let me cook you dinner tonight?”
“I don't know.
Dr. Gonzalez pleads, “Come on. I'm a Southern gentleman, ma'am. Your honor will be respected.”
I lean over the skull and sees something strange. Ricardo Auguste scoffs and mumbles, “Yeah right.” Ricardo wheels John Doe 361 out of the room leaving Dr. Gonzalez and me alone.
“Tell you what, Lorenzo. We'll see what the X-rays tell us about this one. And then, maybe, we'll get a bite to eat.”
Lorenzo grins and says, “All right.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wake up lying on the bathroom floor of my hotel. For some reason, I have a hard time catching my break. I cough to clear my airway and take a deep breath. Instead of helping, this triggers a coughing fit. After being able to catch my breath I observe my surroundings. I am sitting in a pool of blood. My clothes and hands are covered in it. Trying not to panic I examine myself looking for the source of the blood. Besides the small amount that seemed to be dripping from my mouth, I seem to be okay. A blood- soaked towel is on the floor next to me and there are blood smears all over the floor. Still not sure what's happening. I attempt to get up. When I try to lift myself by grabbing onto the vanity with my right hand, a shooting pain sends me back onto the ground. I groan in pain and rub my hand. I try again, this time using my forearm to lean on, and stand. I look in the mirror and am stunned by my appearance. The left side of my face is severely bruised and my entire face is dotted with cuts. I notice that an earring is missing. Then, I am suddenly stuck with flashes of memories of Lorenzo smiling, blood splattering on a wall, a person hanging a hand spiked to a wall with blood streaming down, and a pair of legs in jeans and boots running downstairs. Woah, what happened? Weak and stumbling, I try to leave the bathroom to answer the phone ringing in the next room. I pick up the phone and sit on the sofa. The Hotel clerk is on the other side. “Good morning Dr. Regina,” she greets. “Your airport shuttle is here.”
“What? No. Um. My flight isn't until Thursday.”
“Today is Thursday, Dr. Regina.”
I take the phone away from my ear. I mumble to myself, “What happened to Wednesday?”
Still, on the phone, I hear the clerk say, “Dr. Regina? Hello? Are...are you there, Dr. Regina?”
Jefferson
I am sitting on the platform in the StoryBrooke Institution Medical-Legal Lab with Ruby when Graham steps onto the platform with an envelope showing it to everyone. Graham is in a forest green polo and dark tan slacks paired with ugly brown shoes. He holds up a simple manilla folder and says, “Another present from the Sunshine State.”
“I keep asking for a crop top that says "No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem.”
“Well, we're all hoping for that.” He smiles at the thought of her in that shirt. Ruby looks a bit shocked and Graham backpedals fast. “For you, I mean.” Ruby smiles at him.
I come up behind Ruby and ask, “Does our funding allow us to do Dr. Regina's vacation work?” I have to clear my throat to get Graham's attention away from Ruby. Graham looks inside the envelope and hands me a pair of X-rays.
“We're doing what the government didn't. It's the yin yang of government spending.”
“So we're sneaking?”
“That's what makes it fun.”
I scan the X-ray’s into the computer and display them on one of the monitors on the platform. The X-ray’s are labeled John Doe 361. Right away I notice signs of foul play. “Wow. Bad things happened to Mr. Doe.”
Regina
After hanging up with the hotel desk I called an uber to take me to the hospital. I waited in the waiting room for forty-five minutes before being admitted. I took the time to clean up a little in the bathroom. I used my fingers to comb through my hair but it was too caked blood to be helpful. The bathroom soap and paper towels removed most of the dried blood from my face and hands. Once I saw the doctor and they took photos of my condition I was able to take a shower. Now I sit in a cheap, itchy hospital gown on top of the medical table. My doctor is an older white man in his early 50s with a weathered face and a kind smile. The leathery look of his skin told me he probably spent his entire life in Florida.
“Looks like someone stole your earring. Ripped it right out of the lobe.
“I don't know what happened to me.”
“It's a tough town. We don't have that many cops anymore and, uh…” The man trails off when Detective Hill enters the examination room without knocking. He turns and sees her and continues. Smiling he says, “They were never that good to begin with.”
“You shouldn't insult the ones that stuck around,” says Detective Hill.
“Detective Hill,” I say relieved. “I didn't know who else to call.”
Detective Hill turns around and sees my pile of clothes on a table. “I need blood samples on this clothing.” Turning to address me the detective says, “Maybe we'll get lucky and they won't all come from you. Still hazy on the details?”
“I'm not hazy on the details. I...I don't remember anything.”
“Nothing?”
I think back to the last thing I remember. “Um, Dr. Gonzalez knocking over a tray of instruments at the morgue. Then...mm...nothing.”
“That was the day before yesterday.”
“I requested a rape kit.”
“No sign of sexual activity forced or otherwise,” says the doctor.
Then, The door opens and Emma rushes in heading straight for Regina. One of the nurses rushes behind him trying to stop him. “ma'am, ma'am you can't go in there.” Emma blows right by her.
“Bones, you okay?” asks Emma, her hands out as if wanting to touch me but not wanting to hurt me.
“Emma, I told you not to come.”
“Who's this?” asks Detective Hill.
“She's FBI. We're sort of partners.”
“A woman flies down from D.C.? You're more than "sort of” partners.”
Emma brushes off Detective Hill's comment. “Yeah, that's great.” Looking intensely into my eyes Emma asks, “Do you remember anything?”
I sigh and say, “The tray falling over.”
Emma asks the doctor, “Why can't she remember anything?”
“Well, it could be the head injury.”
“Hairline stress fracture on my right distal radius, concussion, slight fever, torn earlobe. I lost one of my favorite earrings.” I pull the only earring left off of my ear and show it to Emma.
“You're worried about an earring? You should be worried about losing a whole day.”
“I know. It's stupid. But these earrings were my mother's.”
“Amnesia caused by any traumatic event, injury, or drug, can erase memories before the event, not just after,” explains the doctor.
“Great, we'll just wait for a tox screen,” says Emma.
“It's gonna be at least 24 hours.”
“24 hours?”
“Well, most of the labs in the area were destroyed by the hurricane.”
“We'll find out what happened. You just take care of your...uh...partner,” says Detective Hill.
Emma is barely hanging on to her temper. I see her clench her jaw. Emma reaches and with a bent finger under my chin forces me to look at her so she can look at my injuries. After asking the Doctor if she could take me home Emma wheels me out of the hospital to her rental car. Emma drives while I try to calm my throbbing head. “Your memories will come back to you, Bones.”
“You don't know that. Head injuries are extremely unpredictable.”
“I'm just being reassuring.”
My cell phone rings. I answer. “Regina.”
“Regarding the X-rays of John Doe 361,” says Jefferson.
“John Doe 361?”
“Yes. You sent me his X-rays.”
“I don't remember that.”
“You don't remember?”
“What about the X-rays, Jefferson?”
“Male. Late 40's. Mixed race. Anomalies on his spine which I'm looking into. But the point is, his death was not accidental.”
“I sent you the X-rays of a murder victim?”
“How'd he die?” asks Emma, yelling so Jefferson could hear her.
“Is that Emma?” asks Ruby.
“Yes,” I replied.
“You're hopping the Streetcar Named Desire with Emma? Oh, I love this.”
“They're working the murder of John Doe 361 together,” says Jefferson.
Not wanting to explain and undoubtedly worry Ruby I agree, “Precisely. How did 361 die?”
“The pelvis shows crush fractures. There's also what appears to be a bullet hole in the skull, but there's no exit wound.”
“Okay, keep working on it.”
“You don't remember the case?” asks Emma.
“No. And it's a murder.” My stomach growls loudly demanding food. I wrap my arms around my stomach. “I'm hungry.”
“Well, when was the last time you ate?” I just stared at Emma not believing she just asked that question. Emma smiles sheepishly, “Oh, my bad. You have amnesia.”
Suddenly, I recall the name of a restaurant in town. “Emma, I think I know a place.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the Creamy Spoon French Bistro Emma and I sit at a two-top table in front of the window. I look over the menu while Emma plays with a spice shaker. The French theme restaurant smelled of dark roast coffee and freshly baked bread. Hanging above each table was a beautiful mini chandelier and the napkin holders were shaped like the Eiffel tower. “All right, so what is the last thing that you do remember?” asks Emma.
“I told you, Lorenzo,” I pause and correct myself. “Dr. Gonzalez knocked over a tray of surgical instruments.”
“I want to talk to Gonzalez.”
“We must've been about to examine John Doe 361.”
A man who appears to be the chef of the restaurant exits the kitchen in an all-white chef's uniform and fancy hat. “Dr. Regina,” he calls. As the man approaches a memory is triggered. I have met him before. “I thought you were leaving today.”
“Paul,” I say, remembering the man's name at the last second. “This is my friend, Emma Swan.”
Emma and Paul shake hands. Then, Paul notices my injuries. “My God. What happened to you?”
“I'm not certain, but the bruising suggests Tuesday night.”
“After you left here?”
“I was here Tuesday?”
“What time?” asks Emma.
“In at 8:00, left at 9:00. Don't you remember? You had dinner with Ricardo Auguste .”
Again a memory is triggered by Paul's words. Flashes of Ricardo in his scrubs sitting across from me laughing over food pops into my mind. The memory is still hazy and I’m not able to exactly remember. “We have to go back to the morgue. Talk to Ricardo,” I say. Then, I get up to leave the restaurant.
“Who's Ricardo?” asks Emma.
“He's an orderly. He’s originally from Haiti. He suggested this place."
Emma gets up, gives a goodbye wave to Paul, and follows. “Bones, wait up.”