Shrink

20

When I had closed the autopsy doors behind myself, I set down my books and proceeded to reset the remains on the cool stainless steel table, all while consulting with my notes.
Scribbling around in a notebook on minute anomalies that would really amount to nothing more than his body being roughly handled in the river, I sat up and checked my watch.
7:50.
I checked the clock on the wall to make sure, and, frustrated, I continued to stare at the tiny bones.
Soon, I had a whole box full of meticulously labeled and packaged swabs, filaments, earth samples, water sample phials, as well as tissue samples to send back to Washington for analysis at the lab. After bravely asking a passing nurse in the main ward, I hoofed it to the nearest post office to mail off my findings. I felt somewhat accomplished, if a little silly for not asking if the Jeffersonian would cover for shipping, but I figured the lack of caveat was worth it if my findings yielded any clues. I felt so proud of myself as I stepped out of the old post office, and nearly tripped and fell when I saw a familiar someone lugging a similarly marked but considerably larger box up the street.
"Oh! Hi Papillon!"
"Hi, Daisy," I said, trying to keep my smile up like a loose pair of pants. "samples?"
"Remains, too!" she chirped, and I sighed. "Gotta send this here radius off for toxicological testing. Got some swabs for Hodgins, too."
Of course, she would probably get priority.
"I've gotta go, actually," I said, my smile tight with what felt like rigour mortis.
"Oh! Yes, see you at lunch?" she asked brightly as ever.
"Yeah, o"— I began absentmindedly.
I paused.
"Lunch?" I reiterated.
"Yeah," Daisy nodded. "I heard Lance talking about it, so I suggested a nice place we could go here in town!"
Lance?
Oh, right. Sweets.
I suddenly felt even more defensive, and if I had hackles, they'd have been raised in that instance.
"Yeah, I mean, Sweets and I meet for psych evaluations," I threw back, and I saw her smile falter. "for clearance reasons of course."
"Of course," she agreed, though with less zeal than before.
"Well, I'd better go," I reiterated, and left her in the middle of the sidewalk to lug her big-ass box of bones to the post office.
However, I felt like I had lost, and my anxiety began to pull at my tummy, my once growling stomach now knotted.
What was I thinking? Those two had been dating! (Were they still dating?) And I had the gall to even think meeting with Sweets once or twice for psychological purposes was even comparable.
He probably loved you wholly and entirely and gave you all his attention and devotion? Well, he sometimes sits with me to make sure I'm not clinically insane, so suck on them apples, Daisy!
I sighed. Why was I even acting like it was a competition? I wanted no part in it, and yet I was throwing down like I was some fighter with comically huge red gloves in a ring with some Russian boxer nicknamed Big Bear. I had no horse in this race! So why was I even competing with Daisy if I didn't have a reason too?
Why did I feel so threatened by her?
If I could, I'd have asked Sweets.
But of course, with my head swirling full of questions, emotions and poorly crafted metaphors, I simply went back to work and waited for lunch, but much less excitedly than before.
***
I didn't see the need to wear anything to look nice, or even relatively decent, so I just tossed on a sweater over my white tee, and hooked my now loose hair behind my ears (I'd lost my bobby pins).
I figured either Bonny or Clyde would fetch me, so I just sat in the autopsy room patiently, hoping no one would come.
But of course, when does that ever happen?
A few minutes later, Daisy knocked, having changed into a flattering pink blouse and jeans.
I forced what would be one of probably many fake smiles, and followed her out.
She rambled on about this and that, the case, Brennan, the woman, and of course Sweets.
"I simply couldn't wait to be back on the team! I missed my second family," she drawled, and I wanted to puke.
We finally got to a nice-looking establishment called The Oriole, and sat at a table that was already occupied by Sweets.
He smiled pleasantly, and stood to pull out Daisy's chair as I sat, noticing he had already ordered us drinks. My small spark of happiness shrivelled when Daisy leaned over and kissed Sweets on the mouth.
I guess I'd have to get used to that.
Through a lunch filled with mostly Daisy talking about the case, how 'Doctor Brennan hasn't lost her touch, I see', and 'I'm so glad we could all be one big family again'. The food, however, was exquisite. I tucked into my bowl of tuna casserole quite entirely, not paying attention at all, like a child at the dinner table when my parents talked shop.
"Helloooo," said Daisy, and I realized all eyes were on me. "did you hear me? I asked how your life back home is? What's Montreal like?"
I looked up at her rosy expectant face, and glanced at Sweets, who seemed a little concerned, but also sort of curious.
"Montreal is kind of like a smaller New York, except Canadian," I answered, not letting go of my spoon. "My family used to live downtown, but now my parents are retired and mostly live full time on the North shore."
"And how about your boyfriend? Doesn't he miss you?"
Everything seemed to fall silent. I could feel my vision begin to sway, and desperately tried not to think about how I'd left my pump back in D.C.
"He...," I began slowly, my mouth feeling full of sawdust. "we aren't seeing each other anymore."
Daisy made an exaggerated frownie-face.
"Well, a man that doesn't stick around after what you've been through isn't worth your time," she said, patting my useless hand affectionately.
I wanted to puke. Like, literally.
"Excuse me," I breathed, standing up and doing a wooden about-face towards the facilities, my vision in full swing mode like a pendulum.
I locked myself into the first stall in the cute blue-tiled bathroom.
After a few minutes of retching up my lovely lunch, I sat beside the toilet, and cried.