Chapter Text
I’ve never been one to be late, always unnaturally early to combat my time blindness, but my first day working at the Jeffersonian was not one such day. The anxiety of starting a new job in a new city and new state, the move, all of it rubbed off on my large dog, Groundhog, causing the poor pittie to vomit all over the floor of our new apartment, which required immediate cleanup and a bath for the both of us.
I rush into the Jeffersonian, being led to the MedicoLegal lab by vague muscle memory and a few stares along the way. I find myself being pointed to a small side room, all eyes turning to me.
“How nice of you to finally join us, Doctor Valor. I hope your lateness will not continue in the future.” Dr Breenan states as she gestures for me to join the room. I’ve met everyone briefly, so I expect Dr. Hodgin’s next statement.
“Brennan, I told you I don’t need an intern.”
“And I’ve told you that Doctor Valor is not an intern, he has a PhD and will be a vital member of the lab. His focus lies in analytical forensics and he has a clear, concise interest in particulate matter, which will take the extensive job of identification off of you.”
As I step into the room fully, I raise my hand. “May I speak, Doctor Brennan?”
“Yes, Doctor Valor, Go ahead.” She nods and gives me the metaphorical floor.
“I am aware that I am unwanted here, in some cases, but I believe I will be a vital part of the team in many cases, especially with the increased use of this lab by the FBI. I hope that I can improve my standing with you in the future, but I am fully aware that I am a new person being shoved into an already well-rounded team. I am also aware that I have made a bad impression by showing up to my first day late, but there were extenuating circumstances which I addressed with our supervisors. They should not happen in the future. Now, I believe we were just about to clean the bones,” I smile as I gestured toward the jars in Zach’s hands, hoping to improve my impression somewhat.
“Yes, Zach, let’s get started.”
“What the hell are those?” Agent Booth asks. While I want to answer, I let the team take the lead. I’m no longer an intern. I’m just the new guy.
“Dermestes Maculatus,” Zack answers in a matter-of-fact tone. He isn’t going to explain further, but Dr. Brennan steps in.
“Flesh eating beetles. That’s how we clean the flesh off of burn victims.”
Agent Gibson, who I know isn’t really supposed to be here by the way he forces himself into a space in the room, taking it up along with the air around him, gets a phone call, one I don’t listen much to, as I gravitate toward the victim and the bugs cleaning off his flesh.
“It’s kind of beautiful, isn’t it?” Zach asks.
“Yes, but it is always a bit sad, what has to happen afterward. It’s why I went the other way, particulates and visual analysis.” I trace the path of one of the bugs.
“Don’t disturb the bugs, Doctor Valor,” Hodgins snaps, causing me to take a step back.
“My apologies, Doctor.” I bow my head and move to turn toward Doctor Brennan, who is stepping out of the room.
“Should I be following her?” I ask, looking back toward Zack.
Zach shakes his head before turning back to the beetles. “I don’t believe so. You can help us with the bones, and if she needs you she will ask.”
“I certainly don’t need you, Dr. Valor.” Hodgins crosses his arms with a glare before moving to pretend I do not exist.
“I understand sir, but the Jeffersonian believes it needs me, so it is most logical for the two of us to remain civil. At least in terms of our jobs. We don’t have to be friends to be able to work together.”
“He’s right, you know,” Zack nods, seeing the logic in my statement.
“So, may I take a look at the particulates and such?” I ask, doing my best polite impression.
“You can certainly try.” Hodgins sneers.
***
Dr. Brennan comes back just in time for us to be theorizing.
“How are we doing?” She asks as she moves to look at the data Zach moves onto the larger screen for viewing.
I answer, “We have his detergent brand, cologne he was wearing, and shampoo. I believe Zack is checking on the beetles now, but it seems Hodgins would rather make sure I don’t mess with evidence.”
“He is a paranoid man. Thank you for your help, Dr. Valor.” Brennan says as she moves to walk away.
“You don’t have to try and make yourself seem better than me, Doctor Valor,” Hodgins says as he gets up from the computer.
“I am simply stating my observations, Doctor Hodgins, not trying to sway any opinions of you. I think you do that enough yourself.”
Hodgins turns on a dime. “And what? You think you can come into the Jeffersonian and suddenly be buddy-buddy with every scientist in the entire place?”
“No, Doctor Hodgins, there are actually quite a few people in other departments who I’ve met on my tours here who happen to bother me quite a lot. You seem to simply be a paranoid man who enjoys bugs a lot more than the average person. I can’t fault you for either of those things. I can’t fault you for your opinion of me, either, but I can try to improve said opinion.”
“You can certainly try.” And with that Hodgins is moving away, not actually up for the confrontation.
***
Brennan turns on a voice recorder before sitting it next to the body. “Comparing remains to details provided of Hamid Masruk, age 37, of Afghani origin. Texture of pubic synthesis indicates age of bone consistent with Masruk, as is height.”
Zach joins in, “Complexity of the cranial vault sutures matches the statistical probability of your age and descent.”
“Good,” Brennan nods. She is clearly proud of Zach, and Zach is clearly in love with her. I hope he realizes the hopelessness of the situation sometime soon.
“Too bad we can’t tell why he did it. Isn’t that what we really want to know?” Angela asks, only to be ignored. I move over to her, but don’t wish to interrupt the recording.
Brennan continues her scientific explanations, likely with similar motivation. Anything on the recording could be used in the case, and theorizing about intent as scientists can easily be turned on us. “Uneven growth patterns in the vertebrae indicate malnourishment as a child.”
“Consistent with the diet where Masruk was from.” Zach chimes in. “Probably evident on the calvarium.”
“Why don’t you reconstruct the skull and check it out?” Brennan tosses Zach a proverbial torch, and he beams at the possibility.
“My first cranial reconstruction.” It’s the first time I’ve seen an emotion so visible on Zach’s face, and although I don’t know him well, I’m fairly certain it is a rare occurrence.
Brennan doesn’t acknowledge him. “Evidence of multiple fractures to the bottoms of the feet consistent with methods of torture used in Afghanistan and consistent with Masruk’s history. I’m convinced we have a statistical match.”
Brennan moves to turn off the recorder, so I take my opportunity to speak to Angela.
“Finding out the why will likely come from finding out the how. I know the FBI is trying to reconstruct the bomb, but I think Zach and Hodgins are also trying. If we can find out how it triggered itself, we’ll find out if Masruk is really at fault.”
“You don’t think he is?”
“Why would he blow himself up while on the phone? While at a cafe? I don’t know what to think yet.”
***
“So, why do you think Hodgins hates you so much?” Zach asks, working on the skull.
“Zach, do you want the psychological answer, or the placating one?”
“While I don’t believe in psychology as a definitive science, I would like your perspective on the matter through that lens.”
“I believe that Doctor Hodgins thinks of me as a more likeable personality, although I tend to disagree. There is something rather familial about the connection between all of you. I am not a part of that yet. I think he’s worried I will replace him in your group, which is not my plan.”
“He is a deeply insecure man, but a good friend,” Zach acknowledges.
***
Brennan enters in a bit of a rush, “How’s it coming?”
Zach, still trying to piece together bits of skeleton while Hodgins and I deal with the particulates.
“The ethmoid and sphenoid fragments won’t piece together.”
“Zach, I would like to return the remains to the widow before her demise.”
“I’m doing my best, Dr. Brennan. The integrity of the bone seems to be compromised. I don’t know if it’s the metal fragments from the blast or what,” Zach sounds defeated.
“Dr. Brennan,” I start, “Dr Hodgins and I examined the chemicals used in the explosives, the perchlorates we found could have a degenerative effect but I-”
Brennan cuts me off, “Not this quickly. Excuse me.” Brennan asks me to move out of the way, carefully taking my slide out of the microscope and slides one of Masruk’s bone into it. I know this is an unintentional power play, Brennan is too focused for it to truly mean anything, but Hodgin’s proud look is worse.
“Unusually soft bone tissue. You know, this has nothing to do with the blast. I owe you an apology Zach. Do you have his medicals? Stiff joints, facial disfigurement, there’s a disorganized trabecular pattern here that his doctors wouldn’t have been able to see. It would likely be a degenerative disease.”
“That is what I was presuming as well, Dr. Brennan, or some sort of poison.”
“Good, Dr. Valor.”
“I don’t get it, how does his medical condition figure into the murder?” Hodgins asks.
“Now it’s a murder. Before, it was terrorism because we didn’t have all the facts. You don’t overlook anything when you’re looking for the truth. Now, Hodgins, why don’t you check for lupus and Paget’s. You have enough tissue, correct?”
“I believe I can manage it.” Hodgins nods, only glancing at Brennan for a second before smiling at me as though he’s won some sort of victory. I don’t think I’ll ever understand him.
“If those come back negative, you might be right, Dr Valor. He could have been exposed to a toxin which would mean his brother was, too. He’s exhibiting similar symptoms. I’ll get the brother’s medicals.”
“Yes, Doctor” I nod, sliding my chair from the microscope to the computer behind me before standing to go to the smaller lab dedicated to mine and Doctor Hodgin’s science. I can’t help but point out Hodgins’s error.
“Dr. Hodgins, you’ve been around Dr. Brennan long enough to know that she simply views me as a fellow scientist. I had the closest microscope and correct slides. I don’t think Dr. Brennan would make such a subversive power play simply to prove she is my boss. I believe she understands I am aware of that fact, as well as I am aware that she is a brilliant scientist.”
“She doesn’t make you feel like a cretin?” Hodgins asks, half surprised and half gloating.
“No.”
***
Angela has decided to creep into the bug lab, simply to gossip. I wait at the computer screen, hoping to avoid being pulled into it.
“We’re negative for lupus and Paget’s,” I interrupt. “Zach, have you found anything else? I’ll go ahead and scrape for environmental contaminants if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, but before that, I found these shiny flakes caught on the torn patches of the bone.” Zach hands a petri dish over.
After a quick examination, avoiding the gossip behind me, I realize, “This looks like gypsum.”
Hodgins tunes in. “That wouldn’t cause any organic damage. It’s probably what they used to insulate the explosives. Bet the FBI doesn’t know that yet.”
“I’m going to go check out this girlfriend,” Angela says, giving me a little wave before bouncing out the door.
***
“When Booth sends over his brother’s medicals, I want them matched to Hamid’s,” Brennan says as she moves into the room.
Hodgins hands over a sheet of paper, “I’m starting a tox screen.”
“Good, Farid said his doctor suspected a genetic condition. Maybe we are overlooking something,” Brennan turns toward the attempted bomb on the lab table. “What is this?”
Zach answers, “We used the trace elements we recovered to try and build the bomb. It might give you another link.”
“Yes," I nod, "I was wondering if there was a possibility that the components of the bomb might, in some way, cause the condition, but it is just a currently untested hypothesis at the moment.”
“Isn’t the FBI working on the reconstruction of the bomb?” Brennan asks.
Hodgins admires his work for a moment, “Yes, this is just for fun.”
“To see who’s better?”
“Maybe…a little…yeah.”
“Good luck.”
Zach, with his somehow perfect timing, moves to present the skull to Brennan. “Ta-da.”
“Nice job, Zach. No wonder you had such trouble with the reconstruction. Look at the spread of the trabecular pattern in the bone.”
Zach leans down to quietly inform us, “microscopic figures, like cracks.”
“I knew that,” Hodgins and I say in tandem before turning toward each other, Hodgins with a bit of frustration, me with a bit of surprise.
“I don’t think so,” Zach says, more toward Hodgins than myself. I suppose he hasn’t made enough assumptions about me to know if I really did know the information or not, but I spent too long in anatomy classes not to.
“Can we focus, please?” Brennan attempts to rein us in. “The spread is too rapid for any organic bone disease or genetic condition. Good job, Doctor Valor, this is definitely a toxin. Is there any surviving marrow to test?”
Zach is unsure, “Uh, I’ll try and find some.”
“Let’s do it.”
***
Hodgin’s waves Dr. Brennan over. “The marrow is degraded. I can give you the basics, but that’s it.”
Zach and I are leaning over him to see the screen, although I am further back, doing my best not to crowd anyone. Zach’s reading speed is much faster than mine, so his observations come faster.
“According to these tests, the liver function was impaired.”
“His body was trying to get rid of whatever was poisoning him.” Brennan turns slightly toward Angela, who has appeared just as fast as she disappeared.
“There’s trouble in paradise,” Angela singsongs.
“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Brennan asks.
“Tessa does not feel secure in that relationship. I think she feels threatened by you.” Angela crosses her arms.
“You talked to her.”
“She didn’t say much, but even though she has a phenomenal figure, she was chowing down on a fat-free muffin and she was reading a book about unsolved FBI cases. She’s obviously feeling insecure.”
Hodgins turns toward Dr. Brennan. “She’s spying for you?”
“No, no!” Brennan is clearly embarrassed at the prospect.
Zach, not realizing this, states the logic of the situation. “Even if you have nothing in common, it’s difficult to sublimate intense sexual attraction, and we hear it’s been awhile.”
“Okay, stop!” Brennan says, having had enough.
“He is there for the taking, honey.” Angela smirks.
Booth takes this opportunity to enter the room. “Okay, so I couldn’t get his medical records.” He notices the tension within the lab and asks, “what?”
Brennan, red faced, just shakes her head. “Oh, nothing.”
“Trying to track down the doctor?”
“Don’t need him. It’s definitely a toxin, but we can’t determine what kind.” Brennan responds.
“Too bad the liver is cooked. That could tell us everything.” Zach observes.
“You know,” Booth says, “I need subtitles walking in here.”
Brennan, ever the teacher, says, “The liver is like a filter. It would contain evidence of any toxins in the system, but we don’t have the liver or any of the flesh left.”
“But we do have the beetles.” Hodgins observes.
“They ate Hamid’s flesh and whatever organs remained and we all know you are what you eat,” Hodgins jokes.
“So you can ID the poison from the beetles.” Booth observes.
Zach, sounding dejected, says, “You can’t kill them. They have names.”
“We have to, Zach, some.” Brennan moves toward the bug lab.
Hodgins, attempting some sort of sick joke or possibly trying to comfort Zach, says, “In Thailand, they are sauteed in peanut oil.”
Booth, realizing how sad Zach feels but clearly not understanding, pats Zach’s back.
***
Hodgins scares me out of my research with, “Got it! They were poisoned by dioxin, a very pure form. It would stay in the system for years, cause cancer, diabetes, heart attack, and the facial system bone degeneration we saw.”
Brennan gestures toward Hodgins, “Give me the saturation levels. Angela can use it in a simulation to give us the approximate date of ingestion.”
Booth asks, “How much would it take to poison them?”
Brennan is already moving toward the Angelatron. “Just a little slipped into their food. Like at that lunch they had with Sahar’s lover.”
Angela, trying to boost Brennan in Booth’s eyes, “Impressed?”
“Are we supposed to follow?” I ask.
Hodgins just shakes his head no.
***
I turn toward the computer after it beeps. “The insulation they used in the bomb is gypsum based. Plaster, lead, asbestos. Pyrobar. It’s a fireproof tile that was developed in 1903 by the United States gypsum company. While it was only used for a few years, an architect by the name of William Allard used it in the development of the Woodley Park neighborhood circa 1910.”
Hodgins asks, “You got all of that from the results?”
“No, I just have very specific interests and expert knowledge in automotive paints, the use of deadly materials in architecture and fashion, and historical fashion from 1750 to 1900. I did research before I moved here. I don’t think I slept for a week.”
Hodgins just nods, somewhat shocked, but not willing to question further. “So it probably came from the building the bomb was constructed in.” Hodgins states.
Zach nods. “We find the building, we find the bomber.”
***
Angela comes rushing into the bug room. We all have tests running, but we’re in downtime, so Zach has pulled out one of the Dermestes Maculatus, letting me hold it over one of the tables. Hodgins is in the corner, likely pouting about how he thinks Zach likes me more now.
“That one is named Heartbeat because it has a slightly malformed pattern on its third lower segment on the right side in the shape of an anatomical heart. The rest of its body is typical.”
I look at it, realizing that, while Zach hasn’t given them traditional names, he has named them. I don’t have a chance to say anything as Angela rushes in.
“Farid is planning to bomb a peace conference at the Hamilton Cultural Center.”
I am unsure if she needs comfort, so I approach her with logic. “Are Booth and Brennan there?”
“With a bomb squad from the FBI on the way.”
“Angela,” I start, moving to stand, handing the bug off to Zach. “I imagine that with the extreme intelligence of both Brennan and Booth, we will win this one. They know what they are doing. Do you want to distract yourself with bugs?”
“No, I’d not like that very much.”
“Okay. Maybe we can go get food? Or we could wait by the phone for Brennan to call with good news?”
“I’d like that more.”
I move the phone in the room closer toward us and pull up a chair for Angela to sit in. She had the wherewithal to grab her tablet, so she gets to work eventually. I’ve found her a donut, actually fresh, from the cafeteria. It doesn’t take long for Brennan to call and give the all clear, but by that point it is the end of the day.
“I apologize for leaving so abruptly, but if I don’t get back to Groundhog, I fear he might search the city for me, and I definitely don’t have the time for that.”
“Groundhog?” Zach asks first.
“The reason I was late today. I have this rescue dog, he’s like a 70 pound pitbull, and he gets nervous. He basically threw up everywhere.”
“Ew, gross, but cute,” Angela says.
“Yes, gross and cute. Maybe when he’s more settled, I can plan a meet-up for anyone who wants. He loves new friends.”
“I’d like that,” Zach nods.
“Me, too. I love dogs,” Angela smiles.
“I guess I might be willing to meet him. I bet he’s nicer than you.” Hodgins, trying to make sure I know he doesn’t like me, folds.
“Definitely. I might be able to convince the Jeffersonian to let me bring him to the gardens.”
“Oh, there’s actually a really nice dog park next to where I live,” Angela says.
“Oh, really? I haven’t even had the time to plot out all the sniff spots!”
“Yeah, totally, I’ll send you the details and try to set up plans with these guys when they stop making bombs.”
“Thank you, Angela,” I smile.
***
Angela makes good on her promise a few days later, sending me the details over text in a group chat she has eloquently named “Lab Dog.” Somehow, we are all free at the same time on a Thursday evening, and Angela and I live surprisingly close together. I decide just to walk Groundhog over, making sure he’s wearing his favorite button up and sunglasses.
Angela is the first there, and she squeals when she sees Groundhog.
“You didn’t tell me he was a fashionista,” Angela says as she kneels down to pet Groundhog. He immediately moves into a rather wiggly sit position.
“Angela, Groundhog, Groundhog, Angela.”
“He’s such a good boy, Ambrose.”
“Yes, he is. If you want, I can show you some of his tricks while we wait for Hodgins and Zach?”
“I’d love that!” Angela leads me over to where she left her bag by the nearby bench.
“Okay, Groundhog, why don’t we show Angela some of your tricks, huh?” I lean down to give him a pat on the head.
We run through various tricks, and while he does them all with the wiggly knowledge someone is watching him and already thinks he’s a good boy, he executes them even for Angela. He sits, lays, rolls over, does spins, waves, and catches a few treats before Zach and Hodgins show up.
“So, this is the famous Groundhog?” Hodgins asks, and Groundhog moves toward him on his leash, sitting right next to him, expecting him to have treats.
“Groundhog, say hello.” Angela smiles when he does as she asks, waving at Hodgins.
“Yes, good boy, come back.” I gently coax Groundhog back to my side, seeing how Zach is a little farther behind Hodgins than I would have expected.
“This is Groundhog, I’d love to say he’s a highly trained ex-police dog, but in reality I found him on the side of the road in a hole when he was barely old enough to eat on his own. His favorite snack is duck feet, and he would sell me for a single one, but I love him.”
“Why is he wearing clothes?” Zach asks, having gained a bit of confidence once Groundhog retreated to my side.
“It makes him look as friendly as he is. And he likes to wear clothes. He wears pajamas to bed.”
“That’s literally so cute,” Angela squeals as she moves to take a picture of Groundhog.
“Pose for the camera, sweetie,” I ask, and the pup raises his paw and smiles.
“Oh my god!”
“That one took six months. He’s a little stupid, but he gets there eventually.”
“I would say he is rather intelligent if he is able to listen so promptly.” Zach starts. “His ability to associate so many individual words and phrases with commands is definitely above average.”
“Thanks, Zach. I saw that there was a little off-leash fenced area on the other side of the park that I think we could go to. It’s surprisingly deserted for this time of day. He’s not reactive for anything, anyways, but we can let him play if you guys want?”
“Yes, I’d love that,” Angela smiles and leads the way.
By the end of it, Hodgins and Zach are throwing a frisbee back and forth while Groundhog tries to retrieve it, almost always successful. He almost always brings it back to Hodgins.
“Seems like he has a favorite.” Angela says as she sneakily takes pictures.
“I think he just knows Hodgins can throw it farther than Zach can.”
“I meant Hodgins.”
“Oh, Groundhog is everyone’s favorite. I’ve been thinking of getting him registered as a therapy and emotional support animal so I can bring him to go see kids and stuff, like those miniature ponies.”
“He’s about the size of one,” Angela says, just as Groundhog overzealously jumps for the frisbee and falls over, getting back up and running for his missed catch.
“And his heart is about three times that.”
“I think yours is, too.” Angela smiles, turning the camera toward me.