FIC: Bones -- The Doctor on the Phone (PG)
Title: The Doctor on the Phone
Author: Aurora
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 1x07 The Man on Death Row (not gonna make much sense unless you've seen it)
Disclaimer: Like the recycling bins I stole from the neighbors, the characters are not mine, but I use them anyway.
Author's Note: This was supposed to be a part of something larger, but I got stuck. I still might finish it, but until then, I thought I'd at least post this part. Also, I haven't seen this episode in awhile, so forgive any inconsistencies.
She was beginning to question the wisdom of what she did for a living. She had staked her career - more than that, her ideals - on that man. And he turned out to be nothing less than a monster.
Amy Morton chucked the empty whiskey bottle in the vague direction of the recycling bin and wondered why she wasn’t more drunk than she was. She’d damn well earned it, not only for the small matter of trying to free a psychopath, but for making an ass of herself in front of two government agencies and a sundry assortment of scientists. Damned Irish genes.
She shuffled to her bedroom, turning out the lights as she went. She’d long since lost the high-but-not-too-sexy heels, the sensible pantyhose, and the tailored blazer. She didn’t have the energy to contend with the rest. Amy collapsed on to her bed, and had nearly gotten used to the belt buckle poking into her hip when her cell phone rang. Craving punishment, she answered it. “H’lo?”
“I lied to you.”
“What?”
A familiar woman’s voice on the other end. “When we were in the car, you- I told you a lie.”
“Who…” Oh, Amy thought, the scientist. The weird one. “Is this Dr. Brendan?”
“Brennan.”
“Look, lady, it was fun and all, but I’d really like to pretend the past week didn’t happen. Do you want forgiveness? Fine. I forgive you for lying to me. You are absolved. Go in peace.”
“You don’t even know what I lied to you about.”
Amy sighed, rolled over, and resigned herself to a conversation. “It’s almost two in the morning. Does it really matter? And why the hell are you calling me, anyway? I got the impression you thought I was an airhead.”
“I found your assumptions a little naïve, but that’s merely indicative of your relative lack of legal experience with sociopathic criminals.”
“Yes, we all know the nutcase put the whammy on me. If you’re calling to berate me for that, well done. Keep it coming.”
“No, I needed to tell you-“
“That you lied to me. Okay, I’ll bite. What did you lie to me about?”
“You asked me if I found my partner physically attractive. I said no.”
This was enough to make Amy sit up and brave the jagged rocks that were starting to knock around in her skull cavity. “You call me at two o’ clock in the morning to tell me you’ve finally realized what a dreamboat Hunky FBI Man is? Is there something medically wrong with you?”
“I’m perfectly healthy.”
“Why bother telling me? We met two days ago!”
Silence on the line.
“Oh my god. You’ve got no one else to tell.”
“I can’t tell Angela. She’d blow it all out of proportion and tell me that I’m sublimating some sort of-“
“Angela… the artsy one?”
“Yes. She’s constantly insinuating that I should initiate a sexual liaison with Agent Booth.”
“And if you admit you want to, she’ll never let you hear the end of it. All right, I guess we’re doing this. So why’d you lie to me?”
“I… I really don’t know. I had nothing personal to gain from lying. I guess I… could’ve imagined that you were trying to underhandedly obtain personal information about me for your.. lawyer purposes.”
“Mmm, lawyer humor now. Alright, let’s forget the ‘why.’ Look, this… thing you feel? It’s okay. Back in law school, I had a huge crush on my torts professor.”
“I had a sexual relationship with a professor while I was a graduate student.”
Amy sighed again. She pretended she was talking to her niece. Her seventh-grade niece. “Okay, bad example. The point I was trying to make was that attraction is nothing to be ashamed of. You can feel attracted to someone you work with without acting on it.”
The poor woman actually sounded a little shocked. “Of course I can experience attraction without acting on it! Any higher mammal with healthy frontal lobes has that kind of impulse control.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I’m comfortable with my biological urges, I just-“
“-don’t want anyone to know about this particular urge.”
“And it’s not something shameful, just…”
“Private.”
Again, silence.
“I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart.”
“What’s across your heart?”
Amy took a deep, calming breath. “Okay, I get it. I’m neutral ground. Someone outside your - very tiny - social circle. And you’re a verbal analyzer. I think we’ve made progress.”
“And that’s… good.”
“For two a.m. and most a bottle of whiskey, that’s epic. Look, for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure Booth feels the same way you do. If you want to go for it, go for it, but please, for the love of God, discuss that bit with Angela. If you don’t… well, I know what it’s like trying to earn respect in the boy’s club. You can keep it quiet as long as you want, just don’t let it eat away at you.”
There was a long pause, and Amy began to wonder if the connection had been cut off when finally she heard a much quieter Brennan. “I think I understand.”
“Good. No, great. Well, I have to go. I’ve got a solid hangover to get to by morning.”
“Keeping yourself well-hydrated while drinking will prevent or at least mitigate the symptoms of veisalgia.”
“Got it, mom. Goodbye.”
Amy clicked the phone shut with finality and tossed it into the murky darkness of her room, somewhere far, far from arm’s reach. She flopped back down on the bed and the ubiquitous optimistic voice, the one she’d been trying to kill all night, said maybe something good had come of this. Something small and trite and very, very awkward, but good. She groaned and buried her head beneath the pillow.
Author: Aurora
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 1x07 The Man on Death Row (not gonna make much sense unless you've seen it)
Disclaimer: Like the recycling bins I stole from the neighbors, the characters are not mine, but I use them anyway.
Author's Note: This was supposed to be a part of something larger, but I got stuck. I still might finish it, but until then, I thought I'd at least post this part. Also, I haven't seen this episode in awhile, so forgive any inconsistencies.
She was beginning to question the wisdom of what she did for a living. She had staked her career - more than that, her ideals - on that man. And he turned out to be nothing less than a monster.
Amy Morton chucked the empty whiskey bottle in the vague direction of the recycling bin and wondered why she wasn’t more drunk than she was. She’d damn well earned it, not only for the small matter of trying to free a psychopath, but for making an ass of herself in front of two government agencies and a sundry assortment of scientists. Damned Irish genes.
She shuffled to her bedroom, turning out the lights as she went. She’d long since lost the high-but-not-too-sexy heels, the sensible pantyhose, and the tailored blazer. She didn’t have the energy to contend with the rest. Amy collapsed on to her bed, and had nearly gotten used to the belt buckle poking into her hip when her cell phone rang. Craving punishment, she answered it. “H’lo?”
“I lied to you.”
“What?”
A familiar woman’s voice on the other end. “When we were in the car, you- I told you a lie.”
“Who…” Oh, Amy thought, the scientist. The weird one. “Is this Dr. Brendan?”
“Brennan.”
“Look, lady, it was fun and all, but I’d really like to pretend the past week didn’t happen. Do you want forgiveness? Fine. I forgive you for lying to me. You are absolved. Go in peace.”
“You don’t even know what I lied to you about.”
Amy sighed, rolled over, and resigned herself to a conversation. “It’s almost two in the morning. Does it really matter? And why the hell are you calling me, anyway? I got the impression you thought I was an airhead.”
“I found your assumptions a little naïve, but that’s merely indicative of your relative lack of legal experience with sociopathic criminals.”
“Yes, we all know the nutcase put the whammy on me. If you’re calling to berate me for that, well done. Keep it coming.”
“No, I needed to tell you-“
“That you lied to me. Okay, I’ll bite. What did you lie to me about?”
“You asked me if I found my partner physically attractive. I said no.”
This was enough to make Amy sit up and brave the jagged rocks that were starting to knock around in her skull cavity. “You call me at two o’ clock in the morning to tell me you’ve finally realized what a dreamboat Hunky FBI Man is? Is there something medically wrong with you?”
“I’m perfectly healthy.”
“Why bother telling me? We met two days ago!”
Silence on the line.
“Oh my god. You’ve got no one else to tell.”
“I can’t tell Angela. She’d blow it all out of proportion and tell me that I’m sublimating some sort of-“
“Angela… the artsy one?”
“Yes. She’s constantly insinuating that I should initiate a sexual liaison with Agent Booth.”
“And if you admit you want to, she’ll never let you hear the end of it. All right, I guess we’re doing this. So why’d you lie to me?”
“I… I really don’t know. I had nothing personal to gain from lying. I guess I… could’ve imagined that you were trying to underhandedly obtain personal information about me for your.. lawyer purposes.”
“Mmm, lawyer humor now. Alright, let’s forget the ‘why.’ Look, this… thing you feel? It’s okay. Back in law school, I had a huge crush on my torts professor.”
“I had a sexual relationship with a professor while I was a graduate student.”
Amy sighed again. She pretended she was talking to her niece. Her seventh-grade niece. “Okay, bad example. The point I was trying to make was that attraction is nothing to be ashamed of. You can feel attracted to someone you work with without acting on it.”
The poor woman actually sounded a little shocked. “Of course I can experience attraction without acting on it! Any higher mammal with healthy frontal lobes has that kind of impulse control.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I’m comfortable with my biological urges, I just-“
“-don’t want anyone to know about this particular urge.”
“And it’s not something shameful, just…”
“Private.”
Again, silence.
“I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart.”
“What’s across your heart?”
Amy took a deep, calming breath. “Okay, I get it. I’m neutral ground. Someone outside your - very tiny - social circle. And you’re a verbal analyzer. I think we’ve made progress.”
“And that’s… good.”
“For two a.m. and most a bottle of whiskey, that’s epic. Look, for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure Booth feels the same way you do. If you want to go for it, go for it, but please, for the love of God, discuss that bit with Angela. If you don’t… well, I know what it’s like trying to earn respect in the boy’s club. You can keep it quiet as long as you want, just don’t let it eat away at you.”
There was a long pause, and Amy began to wonder if the connection had been cut off when finally she heard a much quieter Brennan. “I think I understand.”
“Good. No, great. Well, I have to go. I’ve got a solid hangover to get to by morning.”
“Keeping yourself well-hydrated while drinking will prevent or at least mitigate the symptoms of veisalgia.”
“Got it, mom. Goodbye.”
Amy clicked the phone shut with finality and tossed it into the murky darkness of her room, somewhere far, far from arm’s reach. She flopped back down on the bed and the ubiquitous optimistic voice, the one she’d been trying to kill all night, said maybe something good had come of this. Something small and trite and very, very awkward, but good. She groaned and buried her head beneath the pillow.