{chap7} Hate Crime PG-13
Hate Crime
Summary - Zack has returned to the Jeffersonian, just in time for a new case to solve. As they delve into the murder of a young gay man, things get a little awkward for Booth. Booth/Zack slash.
Disclaimer - I don’t own Bones. I don’t even understand half the things the squints say.
Warning - boyxboy, some controversial topics about LGBTQ
A/N - School is starting again. So I neeeeeed to get this finished. And…holy crap…I’m a senior?!
-
Chapter 7
He seemed like a nice kid. Casual. Active. A clear-lit face and a pair of eyes that squinted in the sun. Sitting with his teammates waiting for his turn to bat. Mouth splitting into the occasional grin.
But when he turned around and saw Booth flash his FBI badge at the coach-he went tense. Booth raised his eyes.
“Excuse me, are you Bobby Vogue?”
“…Yessir?”
“Wow, you sound really sure of yourself,” Booth snorted to himself. He gestured to the fence. “I’d like to ask you a few questions; if you’d just step to the side.”
“I-I know why you’re here!”
The other baseball players were staring. Gaping. Booth simply continued to lead Bobby behind the fence. Zack frowned a little at their intensity. “If you don’t blink, your eyes will dry and become susceptible to infection,” He informed them all.
He caught up with the other two just in time to hear Bobby plead, “I’ll tell you everything I know, but I swear, I swear I didn’t do it-”
“Everything?” Booth repeated. “Well, if you know why I’m here, let’s just cut to the case, shall we? Where were you the night Gabriel Simmons was raped and murdered?”
Bobby froze.
“Now that’s a big chunk of everything, Bobby,” Booth admonished lightly. “I hear that you and Gabriel were quite the pair of friends-”
“Not so much friends as two people who sexually interacted with each other,” Zack clarified. Upon seeing Booth’s look of exasperation, he added, “I’m trying to help.”
“Sexually interacted?” Bobby repeated apprehensively, as if he’d never heard the term voiced so formally.
“Made you nervous that he came on to you?” Booth tried. “And he threatened to give up the secret. Tell the whole school about your affair. So you decided to shut him up and let everyone know that he was the fag, and not you.”
“No!” Bobby’s expression twisted in horror. “No, that’s not-”
“Yeah? Well, we’ve got a source that’s informed us that you and Gabriel were pretty close, but there was also an argument involving the nature of that relationship. And the fact that you can’t provide your whereabouts the night that he died makes it pretty suspicious.”
Bobby’s mouth was pursed. He seemed bursting to say something. Booth was certain that he got him, when suddenly-
“Can I see your hand?” Zack asked, pointing bluntly to Bobby’s palms. Booth sighed. Sometimes, this really wasn’t that different from working with Bones.
“W-what? Why?” Bobby clasped his hands together, hiding them. “What’s that-hey!”
Absorbed in observation, Zack grabbed one of Bobby’s wrists, seemingly deaf to his protests. “The width of these abrasions running horizontally across his metacarpus is consistent with the width of the twine used to tie Gabriel to the fence.”
“Linking you directly to evidence found at the crime scene,” Booth noted. His face relaxed immensely. Squints to the rescue, yes! “Sure, the jury won’t like sentencing a high school kid like you to life imprisonment, or even capital punishment. But they’ll like it even less if guys like you, who go cutting other guys’ faces off and tying them to fences, go free.”
“I-I-”
“So I’m gonna ask this question one more time. Where were you on the night Gabriel Simmons was raped and murdered?”
Something didn’t seem right. Bobby looked anxious but-perhaps a bit too much so.
“Are you-”
His body collapsed on the ground. Everyone who had been watching from afar sprang up, some ran over, most of them gasped and cried out. Booth tried to wave everyone off as Zack knelt to check his pulse. “He’s alive, he just fainted.”
Booth shook his head in disbelief, staring at Bobby’s limp body. “I’ll call the paramedics.”
-
“Fainted?”
“Fainted,” Booth confirmed with a shrug. “Just-plop-and he was gone. He’s recovering at the hospital right now.”
Dr. Brennan stood on the forensics platform, her blue lab coat adding a great amount of professionalism to her annoyed skepticism. Booth felt like he was being interrogated. “Was he hyperventilating?”
“No, that I know for sure.” No, he had seen nerves go full-speed before. The possibilities of death all around you, including your near future. He remembered those days.
“Then you were probably pressuring him too much.”
“I was treating him like any other witness-”
“But to witnesses, you’re rather intimidating by nature, Booth,” Brennan reminded. “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not insulting your righteousness ethical standing, I’m merely pointing out that you have a physical stature and an interrogation tactic that could easily result in intimidation.”
“I’ll be gentle in the hospital, no worries,” Booth reassured with a hint of a grin. Looking around, he noticed something rather troubling. “Where’d Zack just go?”
“I saw him heading off with Hodgins discussing someth-”
Eyes widening, Booth turned on his heel and headed straight toward Hodgins’ station. Finding Zack, he grabbed him. A bit roughly.
“Ow!”
“You didn’t tell me where you were going.”
“You were speaking with Dr. Brennan and I was needed here to-”
“Booth, calm down,” Hodgins said shortly, eyes flaring. He frowned at the vice grip on Zack’s arm. “Come on, let Zack go.”
Sighing, Booth arrested his grip from Zack’s arm. “Look, the last time you two were alone, you blew your hands up.” He nodded pointedly at Zack. “I was there, remember? I had to get that huge thing of glass off you so you could breathe. Skin got cut off. Hands burnt.”
“Yes, I remember.” Zack zealously held up his still-gloved hands as a reminder. “But the repetition of that action here is highly unlikely.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. One, we are not conducting an experiment. That takes away the setting, and thus the opportunity.”
“Unfortunately,” Hodgins sighed. His nostalgic smile immediately dropped when he saw Booth’s glare. “I meant the experiment, not the opportunity!”
“Two, I have relinquished my position as Gormogon’s apprentice. That takes away the motive.”
“Why’s that?”
“I found fault in his logic.”
Booth looked like he wanted to implode. “You blew up your hands, you got charged for assisting murder, you got locked up as a psycho for doing it, and you’re standing there telling me that you stopped working for Gormogon because you find fault in his logic.”
Zack seemed to shrink a little. “Now you’re just being redundant,” He managed to peep.
Ignoring Hodgins’ objections, Booth grabbed Zack again. “You’re coming with me and you’re not leaving until you can think straight.”
-
Sweets looked up from the loud bang that ensued from Zack opening and closing his door. Now, this was rather unexpected. “Zack, what are you-”
“I’m escaping from Booth,” Zack explained calmly, though his enlarged eyes told a different story. After a moment’s hesitation, he closed the blinds and locked the door.
“Escaping? What?”
“Yes, which brings me to the subject of our conversation.” Zack seemed to be leaning on the door for good measure. He looked pointedly at Sweets, asking for permission to continue.
Sweets stared at his frenzied attempt at privacy. Blocking out outsiders. Intensely personal space. This definitely meant something. “I-sure, why not. Would you like to sit down…or are you more comfortable standing there?”
“Booth has displayed certain behavioral qualities that I believe fall under your area of expertise,” Zack stated, ignoring Sweets’ invitation. “Usually I’m disinclined to trust psychology, but when I put all the factors into a rational model…I wasn’t able to come to a conclusion.”
“So it’s about your work relationship?”
“Yes.”
“And what are these factors?”
“One, my homosexuality. Two, my sexual intercourse with Clint Roper-”
“You slept with Clint Roper?” Sweets couldn’t stop himself from shouting out. He stared at Zack with a mixture of surprise and awe in his eyes.
“Unsuccessfully at first…but yes. I never understood that euphemism. You never sleep while having sex. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason!” Sweets cleared his throat, muttering to the side, “Wow, really didn’t see that coming.”
“Three, Booth’s over-protectiveness. We just came back from the hospital. Our suspect confessed to three other participants in the murder. Booth insists that I don’t leave his side. He’s still convinced that I’ll get targeted. Thus, my escaping him.”
“Oh, I’m seeing something,” Sweets said slowly, eyes widening to stare at Zack. “You’re essentially escaping the physicality of the situation to come to me, the mental and emotional evaluator. There’s something in your physical working relationship that you need emotional consulting on.”
“…You think so?”
“What do you think?”
Zack frowned. “I remember…Booth called Clint his squint twin.”
It was a small fact that was begging for more attention. Sweets leaned forward. “Go on?”
“Clint resembles Booth; physically, that is. I mentioned this and recounted a few details, and Booth stopped the car.”
“He pulled over?”
“He slammed the brakes by accident, but kept going afterward. He didn’t say anything.”
“Hmm.” This was characteristic of an uncomfortable Booth. “Nothing?”
“Nothing. I asked him if he felt oddly that it sounded as if I had sex with him instead of Clint, and that was his response.”
“That’s what you asked him?” Sweets jumped out of his chair and stand in front of Zack, who was looking perturbed at this sudden change. “Alright, you have to tell me this. Think back to the situation. What were the first emotions you remember feeling? Right after Booth reacted, what was your reaction? Use that ridiculous genius brain of yours!”
“I am,” Zack insisted petulantly. “I just don’t document emotions because they are vague and imprecise. I have a better way of discerning reaction.”
“What do you mean? Just tell me-what were you feeling?”
“Arousal.”
Sweets blinked. Oh wow. This was just getting better and better. “Really?”
“Amongst other things, but most clearly and objectively I was aroused.” Seeing Sweets saying nothing, with calculating eyes staring off into space, Zack articulated. “There was increased blood flow to my groin.”
“Don’t you see what this means?”
“…No. I don’t know the cause of my arousal. There could have been a number of reasons-”
“I think the place for you right now is out of my office, not escaping Booth,” Sweets exclaimed briskly. He reopened the blinds and unlocked the door, inviting Zack back into the hallway. “Don’t worry, I’ll consult you later about my results.”
“You need time to come to a conclusion?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Sweets grinned.
“I really don’t understand psychology,” Zack huffed a little, and then strolled determinedly out of Sweets’ office.
-
“Sweets! Good to see ya.” Sweets turned around, only to see Booth closing the blinds and locking the door a mere five minutes after Zack walked out.
“This is just priceless,” He snorted quietly under his breath.
“Alright, I’m going nuts,” Booth announced, seating himself on the large, rectangular couch. “You’re gonna cure me so I can get the job done. Sounds good? Good. When can we begin?”
Sweets regarded Booth with narrowed eyes. “Shouldn’t you be with Zack right now?” He inquired lightly.
Booth inhaled with a strange, aggravated hissing noise. “That’s why I’m going nuts! You think that I can keep an eye on him, listen to his squint talk, and even worse listen to his sex squint talk, all at once? I don’t call myself that much of a multi-tasker.”
“So you’re saying,” Sweets began, “that all you want is for me to declare that you’re cured, and you can do your job?”
“Exactly.”
“Alright, then. You’re cured. Off you go.” Sweets made a small, shooing gesture with his fingers.
“…What?” Booth’s jaw almost dropped. He scanned Sweets’ face to see if he was serious. It seemed as though he was. “Sweets, come on. Where are all the big words?”
“Agent Booth, your underlying feelings of frustration aren’t stemming from the stress of the job. They’re not discontinuing you from performing in the field. So technically, it’s not my jurisdiction to point it out, is it?”
“So, what are you saying? I need to get something personal out of the way?”
“Out of the way, dealt with, recognized, anything that eases that frustration,” Sweets nodded. “And I’d like to advise-if you value my advice, that is-that you meet with the problem head-on. Confront it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Booth stared down at his lap. “Get in there, get through with it. Get in there, get through with it.” Sweets had to guess military mantra, or early sniper training. Booth looked up and smiled hesitantly. “Alright, I’ll see you later Sweets.”
“Good luck,” Sweets nodded. After Booth had gotten around to reopening the blinds and unlocking the door, Sweets pulled out his cell phone and pressed speed dial. “Oh, Daisy’s gonna love this…”
Summary - Zack has returned to the Jeffersonian, just in time for a new case to solve. As they delve into the murder of a young gay man, things get a little awkward for Booth. Booth/Zack slash.
Disclaimer - I don’t own Bones. I don’t even understand half the things the squints say.
Warning - boyxboy, some controversial topics about LGBTQ
A/N - School is starting again. So I neeeeeed to get this finished. And…holy crap…I’m a senior?!
-
Chapter 7
He seemed like a nice kid. Casual. Active. A clear-lit face and a pair of eyes that squinted in the sun. Sitting with his teammates waiting for his turn to bat. Mouth splitting into the occasional grin.
But when he turned around and saw Booth flash his FBI badge at the coach-he went tense. Booth raised his eyes.
“Excuse me, are you Bobby Vogue?”
“…Yessir?”
“Wow, you sound really sure of yourself,” Booth snorted to himself. He gestured to the fence. “I’d like to ask you a few questions; if you’d just step to the side.”
“I-I know why you’re here!”
The other baseball players were staring. Gaping. Booth simply continued to lead Bobby behind the fence. Zack frowned a little at their intensity. “If you don’t blink, your eyes will dry and become susceptible to infection,” He informed them all.
He caught up with the other two just in time to hear Bobby plead, “I’ll tell you everything I know, but I swear, I swear I didn’t do it-”
“Everything?” Booth repeated. “Well, if you know why I’m here, let’s just cut to the case, shall we? Where were you the night Gabriel Simmons was raped and murdered?”
Bobby froze.
“Now that’s a big chunk of everything, Bobby,” Booth admonished lightly. “I hear that you and Gabriel were quite the pair of friends-”
“Not so much friends as two people who sexually interacted with each other,” Zack clarified. Upon seeing Booth’s look of exasperation, he added, “I’m trying to help.”
“Sexually interacted?” Bobby repeated apprehensively, as if he’d never heard the term voiced so formally.
“Made you nervous that he came on to you?” Booth tried. “And he threatened to give up the secret. Tell the whole school about your affair. So you decided to shut him up and let everyone know that he was the fag, and not you.”
“No!” Bobby’s expression twisted in horror. “No, that’s not-”
“Yeah? Well, we’ve got a source that’s informed us that you and Gabriel were pretty close, but there was also an argument involving the nature of that relationship. And the fact that you can’t provide your whereabouts the night that he died makes it pretty suspicious.”
Bobby’s mouth was pursed. He seemed bursting to say something. Booth was certain that he got him, when suddenly-
“Can I see your hand?” Zack asked, pointing bluntly to Bobby’s palms. Booth sighed. Sometimes, this really wasn’t that different from working with Bones.
“W-what? Why?” Bobby clasped his hands together, hiding them. “What’s that-hey!”
Absorbed in observation, Zack grabbed one of Bobby’s wrists, seemingly deaf to his protests. “The width of these abrasions running horizontally across his metacarpus is consistent with the width of the twine used to tie Gabriel to the fence.”
“Linking you directly to evidence found at the crime scene,” Booth noted. His face relaxed immensely. Squints to the rescue, yes! “Sure, the jury won’t like sentencing a high school kid like you to life imprisonment, or even capital punishment. But they’ll like it even less if guys like you, who go cutting other guys’ faces off and tying them to fences, go free.”
“I-I-”
“So I’m gonna ask this question one more time. Where were you on the night Gabriel Simmons was raped and murdered?”
Something didn’t seem right. Bobby looked anxious but-perhaps a bit too much so.
“Are you-”
His body collapsed on the ground. Everyone who had been watching from afar sprang up, some ran over, most of them gasped and cried out. Booth tried to wave everyone off as Zack knelt to check his pulse. “He’s alive, he just fainted.”
Booth shook his head in disbelief, staring at Bobby’s limp body. “I’ll call the paramedics.”
-
“Fainted?”
“Fainted,” Booth confirmed with a shrug. “Just-plop-and he was gone. He’s recovering at the hospital right now.”
Dr. Brennan stood on the forensics platform, her blue lab coat adding a great amount of professionalism to her annoyed skepticism. Booth felt like he was being interrogated. “Was he hyperventilating?”
“No, that I know for sure.” No, he had seen nerves go full-speed before. The possibilities of death all around you, including your near future. He remembered those days.
“Then you were probably pressuring him too much.”
“I was treating him like any other witness-”
“But to witnesses, you’re rather intimidating by nature, Booth,” Brennan reminded. “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not insulting your righteousness ethical standing, I’m merely pointing out that you have a physical stature and an interrogation tactic that could easily result in intimidation.”
“I’ll be gentle in the hospital, no worries,” Booth reassured with a hint of a grin. Looking around, he noticed something rather troubling. “Where’d Zack just go?”
“I saw him heading off with Hodgins discussing someth-”
Eyes widening, Booth turned on his heel and headed straight toward Hodgins’ station. Finding Zack, he grabbed him. A bit roughly.
“Ow!”
“You didn’t tell me where you were going.”
“You were speaking with Dr. Brennan and I was needed here to-”
“Booth, calm down,” Hodgins said shortly, eyes flaring. He frowned at the vice grip on Zack’s arm. “Come on, let Zack go.”
Sighing, Booth arrested his grip from Zack’s arm. “Look, the last time you two were alone, you blew your hands up.” He nodded pointedly at Zack. “I was there, remember? I had to get that huge thing of glass off you so you could breathe. Skin got cut off. Hands burnt.”
“Yes, I remember.” Zack zealously held up his still-gloved hands as a reminder. “But the repetition of that action here is highly unlikely.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. One, we are not conducting an experiment. That takes away the setting, and thus the opportunity.”
“Unfortunately,” Hodgins sighed. His nostalgic smile immediately dropped when he saw Booth’s glare. “I meant the experiment, not the opportunity!”
“Two, I have relinquished my position as Gormogon’s apprentice. That takes away the motive.”
“Why’s that?”
“I found fault in his logic.”
Booth looked like he wanted to implode. “You blew up your hands, you got charged for assisting murder, you got locked up as a psycho for doing it, and you’re standing there telling me that you stopped working for Gormogon because you find fault in his logic.”
Zack seemed to shrink a little. “Now you’re just being redundant,” He managed to peep.
Ignoring Hodgins’ objections, Booth grabbed Zack again. “You’re coming with me and you’re not leaving until you can think straight.”
-
Sweets looked up from the loud bang that ensued from Zack opening and closing his door. Now, this was rather unexpected. “Zack, what are you-”
“I’m escaping from Booth,” Zack explained calmly, though his enlarged eyes told a different story. After a moment’s hesitation, he closed the blinds and locked the door.
“Escaping? What?”
“Yes, which brings me to the subject of our conversation.” Zack seemed to be leaning on the door for good measure. He looked pointedly at Sweets, asking for permission to continue.
Sweets stared at his frenzied attempt at privacy. Blocking out outsiders. Intensely personal space. This definitely meant something. “I-sure, why not. Would you like to sit down…or are you more comfortable standing there?”
“Booth has displayed certain behavioral qualities that I believe fall under your area of expertise,” Zack stated, ignoring Sweets’ invitation. “Usually I’m disinclined to trust psychology, but when I put all the factors into a rational model…I wasn’t able to come to a conclusion.”
“So it’s about your work relationship?”
“Yes.”
“And what are these factors?”
“One, my homosexuality. Two, my sexual intercourse with Clint Roper-”
“You slept with Clint Roper?” Sweets couldn’t stop himself from shouting out. He stared at Zack with a mixture of surprise and awe in his eyes.
“Unsuccessfully at first…but yes. I never understood that euphemism. You never sleep while having sex. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason!” Sweets cleared his throat, muttering to the side, “Wow, really didn’t see that coming.”
“Three, Booth’s over-protectiveness. We just came back from the hospital. Our suspect confessed to three other participants in the murder. Booth insists that I don’t leave his side. He’s still convinced that I’ll get targeted. Thus, my escaping him.”
“Oh, I’m seeing something,” Sweets said slowly, eyes widening to stare at Zack. “You’re essentially escaping the physicality of the situation to come to me, the mental and emotional evaluator. There’s something in your physical working relationship that you need emotional consulting on.”
“…You think so?”
“What do you think?”
Zack frowned. “I remember…Booth called Clint his squint twin.”
It was a small fact that was begging for more attention. Sweets leaned forward. “Go on?”
“Clint resembles Booth; physically, that is. I mentioned this and recounted a few details, and Booth stopped the car.”
“He pulled over?”
“He slammed the brakes by accident, but kept going afterward. He didn’t say anything.”
“Hmm.” This was characteristic of an uncomfortable Booth. “Nothing?”
“Nothing. I asked him if he felt oddly that it sounded as if I had sex with him instead of Clint, and that was his response.”
“That’s what you asked him?” Sweets jumped out of his chair and stand in front of Zack, who was looking perturbed at this sudden change. “Alright, you have to tell me this. Think back to the situation. What were the first emotions you remember feeling? Right after Booth reacted, what was your reaction? Use that ridiculous genius brain of yours!”
“I am,” Zack insisted petulantly. “I just don’t document emotions because they are vague and imprecise. I have a better way of discerning reaction.”
“What do you mean? Just tell me-what were you feeling?”
“Arousal.”
Sweets blinked. Oh wow. This was just getting better and better. “Really?”
“Amongst other things, but most clearly and objectively I was aroused.” Seeing Sweets saying nothing, with calculating eyes staring off into space, Zack articulated. “There was increased blood flow to my groin.”
“Don’t you see what this means?”
“…No. I don’t know the cause of my arousal. There could have been a number of reasons-”
“I think the place for you right now is out of my office, not escaping Booth,” Sweets exclaimed briskly. He reopened the blinds and unlocked the door, inviting Zack back into the hallway. “Don’t worry, I’ll consult you later about my results.”
“You need time to come to a conclusion?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Sweets grinned.
“I really don’t understand psychology,” Zack huffed a little, and then strolled determinedly out of Sweets’ office.
-
“Sweets! Good to see ya.” Sweets turned around, only to see Booth closing the blinds and locking the door a mere five minutes after Zack walked out.
“This is just priceless,” He snorted quietly under his breath.
“Alright, I’m going nuts,” Booth announced, seating himself on the large, rectangular couch. “You’re gonna cure me so I can get the job done. Sounds good? Good. When can we begin?”
Sweets regarded Booth with narrowed eyes. “Shouldn’t you be with Zack right now?” He inquired lightly.
Booth inhaled with a strange, aggravated hissing noise. “That’s why I’m going nuts! You think that I can keep an eye on him, listen to his squint talk, and even worse listen to his sex squint talk, all at once? I don’t call myself that much of a multi-tasker.”
“So you’re saying,” Sweets began, “that all you want is for me to declare that you’re cured, and you can do your job?”
“Exactly.”
“Alright, then. You’re cured. Off you go.” Sweets made a small, shooing gesture with his fingers.
“…What?” Booth’s jaw almost dropped. He scanned Sweets’ face to see if he was serious. It seemed as though he was. “Sweets, come on. Where are all the big words?”
“Agent Booth, your underlying feelings of frustration aren’t stemming from the stress of the job. They’re not discontinuing you from performing in the field. So technically, it’s not my jurisdiction to point it out, is it?”
“So, what are you saying? I need to get something personal out of the way?”
“Out of the way, dealt with, recognized, anything that eases that frustration,” Sweets nodded. “And I’d like to advise-if you value my advice, that is-that you meet with the problem head-on. Confront it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Booth stared down at his lap. “Get in there, get through with it. Get in there, get through with it.” Sweets had to guess military mantra, or early sniper training. Booth looked up and smiled hesitantly. “Alright, I’ll see you later Sweets.”
“Good luck,” Sweets nodded. After Booth had gotten around to reopening the blinds and unlocking the door, Sweets pulled out his cell phone and pressed speed dial. “Oh, Daisy’s gonna love this…”