short attention span theatre brings you: NCIS/Bones in various conversations about bones, part 2
All was sweetness and light at Ducky's morgue. "Doctor Brennan!" Ducky said. "I was most interested in your paper co-authored with Fredy Peccarelli regarding the reconstruction of crime victims from mass graves."
"Oh!" Brennan said, looking startled. "I'm so sorry---I recognize your voice, but I had no idea--you and I have spoken, haven't we, Dr. Mallard?"
"Ducky, for obvious service-related puns," Ducky said. "We spoke by teleconference recently, but the FBI special agent cut it short."
"Booth?" Brennan asked, her forehead beginning to wrinkle. "Special Agent Booth?"
"Fornell," Gibbs said. "The FBI agent was in our office."
"Have you reached any conclusions regarding the instrumentation that rendered the remains in pieces?" Brennan asked, clearly switching gears, at the sight of the bones on the morgue table.
"Not yet, but our forensic investigator is---"
"The Jeffersonian database is the most diverse available," Brennan said, not quite interrupting. "But it's proprietary."
::
"Yeah, Gibbs, no way we can get to it. Their geeks are as good as our geeks!" Abby said. She poked the long red straw in and out of her Caf-Pow top. "But, listen, there's--" she stuck her face closer to the web-cam and her voice rose periously close to a squeal. "Is that Dr. Temperance Brennan behind you? Gibbs how did you know?"
"We each had half a sailor," Gibbs said, imperturbably. "Ducky has both halves here, but Dr. Brennan was thinking that the cause of death is unique."
"The boys and I are generalists, Gibbs, we have to be," Abby said. "I hear that the Jeffersonian's forensic artist has a program that simulates the whole process! I mean, if you had the meat puzzle over there, it would put it together!"
Gibbs rubbed his upper lip, hiding a near-smile. "I suppose our budget keeps you from having something like that."
"Yes, and I could have used it more than an assistant."
"Or," Ducky said, "we could work together on this."
"I'm comfortable with that," Brennan said.
"Hey," came Abby's voice from the screen. "If we're all friends with the Jeffersonian, can I get Dr. Hodgins to look at a sample?"
::
"Oh, this is a beauty, Miss Sciuto, " Hodgins said. "This has so many layers of sediment that it would take weeks to analyze every place this tire had travelled. Not to mention the particulates of pond scum."
"Abby," said Abby, her twin ponytails practically standing on end. "I would kill for that mass spectrometer model! This stuff is beyond state of the art! It's the edge in front of the cut."
"Call me Jack," Hodgins said, grinning. "Pull up a chair. Let's see what we find!"
Above them on the catwalk, Angela looked down with mixed emotions. "And I thought I was quirky for a scientific lab."
Booth put his hands in his pockets. "She's at least six inches taller than he is," he said. "Seen Bones?"
"She's from NCIS," Angela said. "And, strangely enough, that's where Brennan is."
Booth took his hands out of his pockets. "NCIS? They're poaching our forensic anthropologists now?" He flipped open his phone.
"Well, I think it was the other way around---" Angela began, but Booth already had his phone out.
"Hey, Fornell? Booth. Listen, the swabbies have our forensic anthropologist! Brennan is over there---hey, listen, you're the one who has the inside line. What do you mean, don't get pissy?" Booth hung up, and looked at Angela again. "Did the Jeffersonian have any bodies that were sailors or Marines?"
Angela spread her hands out in the universal sign of Go ask Cam, big boy.
"Oh!" Brennan said, looking startled. "I'm so sorry---I recognize your voice, but I had no idea--you and I have spoken, haven't we, Dr. Mallard?"
"Ducky, for obvious service-related puns," Ducky said. "We spoke by teleconference recently, but the FBI special agent cut it short."
"Booth?" Brennan asked, her forehead beginning to wrinkle. "Special Agent Booth?"
"Fornell," Gibbs said. "The FBI agent was in our office."
"Have you reached any conclusions regarding the instrumentation that rendered the remains in pieces?" Brennan asked, clearly switching gears, at the sight of the bones on the morgue table.
"Not yet, but our forensic investigator is---"
"The Jeffersonian database is the most diverse available," Brennan said, not quite interrupting. "But it's proprietary."
::
"Yeah, Gibbs, no way we can get to it. Their geeks are as good as our geeks!" Abby said. She poked the long red straw in and out of her Caf-Pow top. "But, listen, there's--" she stuck her face closer to the web-cam and her voice rose periously close to a squeal. "Is that Dr. Temperance Brennan behind you? Gibbs how did you know?"
"We each had half a sailor," Gibbs said, imperturbably. "Ducky has both halves here, but Dr. Brennan was thinking that the cause of death is unique."
"The boys and I are generalists, Gibbs, we have to be," Abby said. "I hear that the Jeffersonian's forensic artist has a program that simulates the whole process! I mean, if you had the meat puzzle over there, it would put it together!"
Gibbs rubbed his upper lip, hiding a near-smile. "I suppose our budget keeps you from having something like that."
"Yes, and I could have used it more than an assistant."
"Or," Ducky said, "we could work together on this."
"I'm comfortable with that," Brennan said.
"Hey," came Abby's voice from the screen. "If we're all friends with the Jeffersonian, can I get Dr. Hodgins to look at a sample?"
::
"Oh, this is a beauty, Miss Sciuto, " Hodgins said. "This has so many layers of sediment that it would take weeks to analyze every place this tire had travelled. Not to mention the particulates of pond scum."
"Abby," said Abby, her twin ponytails practically standing on end. "I would kill for that mass spectrometer model! This stuff is beyond state of the art! It's the edge in front of the cut."
"Call me Jack," Hodgins said, grinning. "Pull up a chair. Let's see what we find!"
Above them on the catwalk, Angela looked down with mixed emotions. "And I thought I was quirky for a scientific lab."
Booth put his hands in his pockets. "She's at least six inches taller than he is," he said. "Seen Bones?"
"She's from NCIS," Angela said. "And, strangely enough, that's where Brennan is."
Booth took his hands out of his pockets. "NCIS? They're poaching our forensic anthropologists now?" He flipped open his phone.
"Well, I think it was the other way around---" Angela began, but Booth already had his phone out.
"Hey, Fornell? Booth. Listen, the swabbies have our forensic anthropologist! Brennan is over there---hey, listen, you're the one who has the inside line. What do you mean, don't get pissy?" Booth hung up, and looked at Angela again. "Did the Jeffersonian have any bodies that were sailors or Marines?"
Angela spread her hands out in the universal sign of Go ask Cam, big boy.