Brennan and Miriam

[canisminor]

 So this has been fun. They did the white picket fence shindig, her and Barnaby, and Miriam's mom was even there! And she was nice, she was Miss Bethany who owned the bakery and showed Miriam how to make icing flowers on the cupcakes and let her have all the sugar she wanted. There were no Sons lingering in the back of anybody's mind, no Tar, no monsters, no Commander whispering from the shadows. And for a while, Miriam and Barnaby had been living good. 

Then everybody woke up and Miriam looked down and remembered her hand was gone. 

So that sucks. 

But it doesn't hurt too much, so she lets it go. No use getting stuck on memories. Especially the good ones. 

She heads over to the clinic to get her stump looked at, Barnaby at her side and the Sons of Plunder jacket dwarfing her shoulders. There's a lady working there, someone new. 

Wait. Waaaaait. Miriam beams. "You were the teacher lady! In the fake world! But you're real here."

Comments

[notimpervious]

She's trying not to think about that week. About the fake husband (hah, marriage, her? no, it is archaic and unnecessary, thank you very much), the fake children (that had hurt; she really misses her baby), the fake career (teaching young kids, getting them excited about science the way her father had done for her, showing them why she loves her job so much). None of it was real; therefore, none of it matters or merits thinking about.

This small set of bones that she found by the mouth of one of the caves is more interesting. It looks like the forearm and forepaw of a large predator, perhaps ursine. She can't be sure of that here, though. Nothing is what it should be in this strange underground city.

She is so absorbed in her work of examining the bones by sight that Miriam's voice startles her. She jumps a little and turns, tensed and ready to fight even though she can see immediately it's only a young girl and her dog. Both could be deadly, of course. Anyone could be a murderer. But she will not assume anything. Things have been calm since the illusion faded away.

And if the girl were going to hurt or kill her, she would've done it by now. Brennan wouldn't have noticed until it was too late.

"Yes," she responds, relaxing in her seat. "I am quite real, and so are you. My name is Temperance Brennan." She pauses and looks at the dog, smiling a little. "What a beautiful dog."

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Miriam giggles, rolling her shoulders. She's careful to keep her bad hand (she still catches herself thinking of it as a hand) in her pocket. The jacket's bulky enough that people can't usually tell she's down about a pound of flesh. "He's my handsome boy. Barnaby, go say hi!"

Barnaby trots over and sits, offering Brennan a paw to be shaken.

"Ain't he nice? I'm Miriam. Barnaby's my best dude."

[notimpervious]

Barnaby distracts Brennan from Miriam, so she has not yet been able to observe anything that might clue her in to the state of Miriam's hand or lack thereof.

"Hello, Barnaby." Brennan shakes his paw, chuckling. "Very nice to meet you. And you," she adds to Miriam as she releases Barnaby's paw. "What brings you to the clinic?"

[canisminor]

Barnaby chuffs happily, wagging his tail. He returns to sit on Miriam's foot. Always standing close. He was there in the fake-world too and seems to understand the difference - or at least remember that things were weird. Miriam scratches his ears briefly, stalling. She shrugs, casual as you please. "Oh, you know. Just sayin' hi."

She pauses.

"You a science doctor or a doctor-doctor? 'cause I'm supposed to have some stuff looked at."

[notimpervious]

The directness of Miriam's question is appreciated. Brennan snickers, nodding once. "I'm a forensic anthropologist -- a science doctor. But my training and work require me to have deep knowledge of the human body, so I can help in some ways that medical doctors can if there is no one else around who is qualified."

She looks Miriam over quickly but can't determine by sight what she might need to have looked at.

"What do you need checked?"

[canisminor]

A science doctor. Well, Miriam figures that's close enough. She shrugs, leaning against Barnaby. "Just this."

Carefully she draws her right arm out of her pocket, just enough to show where her hand isn't, anymore. The place just below the wrist where the Commander swung her machete and the shiny-thick burns where Miguel cauterized it. It's mostly healed, she thinks.

"Hurts a bit," she admits. Barnaby whines. "But I think it's mostly okay."

[notimpervious]

That was not what Brennan was expecting to see. Perhaps a stitched up wound or a splint on a finger, not--

She moves quickly, crossing to Miriam and reaching out for her arm. "May I inspect it?" She does not ask what happened or who did this. The former is stupid (she can see what happened: her hand was cut off with a sharp blade), and the latter is likely irrelevant (even if the culprit is here, there is no way to see that justice is served).

[canisminor]

Smile, smile, smile! And don't you flinch, nope, everything's good. Miriam bounces on her heels a little, giving Brennan her best grin. Look how cute and harmless she is! She holds out her arm obediently and if she's pressing her knee against Barnaby, nobody needs to know. "Sure. It's healing up okay, right?"

[notimpervious]

The smile disturbs Brennan. No one who has had their hand removed for any reason other than a medically recommended one could be that cheerful with a stranger asking to see their injury, not unless what they've been through is so horrible that they don't know how else to hide it.

Brennan gingerly places a hand under Miriam's forearm to hold it steady as she leans in closer to get a better look. "No sign of infection." With all this flesh on it, she can't tell much, but... it's better that there is flesh. It's better that Miriam is alive. "What weapon did this? It must have been long. Perhaps a sword."

[canisminor]

"Really big knife," Miriam confirms. It happened, it's done, everything is cool now. "Think they're called machetes."

She pauses. Gives Brennan a solemn look.

"I had a bad day."

[notimpervious]

"Yes, a machete would easily do this." And so would someone... cruel. This injury is not the result of an accident.

That last remark gets Brennan to lift her gaze to Miriam's. Brennan's face is tense but controlled as she studies the girl, remembering all she knows and has seen about children from war zones, both child soldiers and not.

"That is... an understatement." Pulling back her hand, she straightens. "Why would someone do this to you?"

[canisminor]

Carefully, Miriam takes her arm back and tucks her stump into the cavernous pockets of her jacket. Have to be careful about who sees what, control the narrative. Barnaby bumps his head against her knees with a whine and she grins, scratching his ears.

"Good boy. You got any peanut butter? He loves peanut butter."

Makes him do the happy dance where his claws go tac-tac-tac across the floor and not think about the Commander at all.

Miriam shrugs, casual as you please. It's fine, totally fine, she doesn't have nightmares ever.

"'cause I wanted to leave. Commander says you have to pay a toll if you want out, and I wouldn't let her kill my dog."

She shrugs again.

"Commander likes that biblical shit. Pound of flesh and all that. But I was her favorite, so I didn't have to make it a full pound."

[notimpervious]

"No." There is peanut butter in her and Zack's apartment, but not here. "Someone else might."

'Biblical shit' - wouldn't that get a little rant out of Booth. Brennan purses her lips, scowling. "This commander... she was training you, wasn't she." She knows the answer, but she asks anyway. Make no assumptions, obtain all the facts. "She'd trained others before you."

[canisminor]

"Aww, okay."

No peanut butter. Maybe she can get some candy, though. Doctors are supposed to have candy to hand out when they're done with the shots, right?

Miriam hesitates, then nods. She puts her good hand on Barnaby's head.

"Said she was bored. And I was interesting, so I was her favorite. She said if I was really careful and really smart, I'd get her back someday."

She gives Brennan a solemn nod.

"Miguel said she was a so-cio-path. I like Miguel. He was nice to me, even though he's scared of the Commander."

[notimpervious]

Miriam is trying to play it off like her story is normal somehow, but the more she says, the more Brennan is disturbed. This 'commander' seems like she was training Miriam to be her successor. Brennan will have to ask Sweets about whether the commander fits the profile for a sociopath, but she thinks that might be accurate.

"Was Miguel like you? Someone under the commander's... employ?"

cw for allusions to child abuse

[canisminor]

"Sort of. He was one of the original Sons of Plunder, before the Commander took over." And maybe they'd been bad people then or maybe they hadn't, but they hadn't been like this. Miguel's okay, most of the time. He's not a monster like the Commander. "But he left and she let him leave. And then the Commander gave me to him."

Less like a present and more like a warning, Miriam thinks.

She shrugs. Pets Barnaby's head.

"Guess she got bored with him, too. But it's okay. He's nice. And he's not into girls at all. He gave me the jacket, see? Isn't it nice?"

[notimpervious]

"That sounds like some sort of gang."

Only worse, when Miriam reaches the end of her description of Miguel. Brennan is not equipped to help her. No one here is, she thinks, but Sweets could at least do a better job.

"You are no one's property," she says firmly, looking straight into Miriam's eyes. "The jacket--" She pauses and takes a breath, and her voice goes back to normal when she speaks again. "The jacket is nice, yes. Big." Sweets would say-- he'd say it was meant to make her feel like Miguel is with Miriam, or something like that. "If there's blood in that pocket, you should wash it out. The blood will putrefy and bacteria will grow. It could make you sick, and it will stink."

[canisminor]

Miriam just smiles. "Not anymore."

Because she's patient, yes she is, and she's get all sorts of friends. And then the Commander's gonna be sorry.

"There's probably blood," she admits. "I'll scrub it. But it's awesome! It's bullet-proof just like Barnaby. Aren't you, handsome boy? Aren't you my handsome boy?"

Barnaby, bullet-proof and handsome, answers with a chuff.

[notimpervious]

"No, never." No one belongs to anyone.

A bulletproof dog... there is no such thing. But then, there is no such thing as the Sons of Plunder where Brennan is from.

"Would you tell me more about Barnaby? I have never heard of such an interesting dog. He must be a very rare breed."

[canisminor]

Miriam giggles. "You're nice. Do you wanna be my friend?"

It's good to have friends. Especially ones that are smart.

Barnaby's tail thumps against her legs and Miriam grins. Barnaby is her favorite thing in the whole universe. "He's an Alpha Certified Protection Dog. And when he was little, I could hold him in my hands like this."

She cups her hands together to demonstrate.

[notimpervious]

It strikes Brennan suddenly that Miriam is acting younger than she is. There is no case here, not really, and even if there were, it isn't hers because no one is dead. What she's doing is listening to her hormones and her instincts, but even knowing that isn't enough to make her consciously aware of it for more than a moment.

"What I want is to ensure you aren't hurt like this again."

That's... something, right? Brennan is not good at this.

"I see. How old is Barnaby now?"

[canisminor]

"That's nice. You're a nice lady."

And it's important to have nice friends, yes it is.

Miriam puts her good hand on Barnaby's head, ruffling his ears. "Uhhhhh six? Yeah, he's six now. Not so little now, are you, buddy?"

Barnaby rumbles happily.

"My mom got him for me. My mom is awesome."

And definitely not dead.

[notimpervious]

"It is nice to not want to hurt people?"

Typically that is decent human behavior, where Brennan is from.

"He is a grown adult. He makes a good friend and protector, doesn't he? No wonder your mother gave him to you."

What she would give to have Sweets be here right now. But he isn't here, so...

"Do you remember what medicine they are using for your arm? Something topical?" Treatment must be followed rigorously to ensure optimal healing.

[canisminor]

"It's very nice," Miriam assures her. Everyone should be nice to Miriam, yes they should, she's small and cute and utterly harmless. People like cute things. Therefore people like her and they give her presents and don't cut her head off with a machete. "It was a cream. It smelled funny."

[notimpervious]

Vague though that description may be, Brennan immediately knows which cream Miriam means and goes to get it. She gets a pair of gloves as well, and a clean cloth to work on, and beckons Miriam close.

"I can change your wound dressing. Treatment should not be delayed."

Treatment should not be necessary in a girl her age, or in anyone, not for this type of wound, which she got from a horrible situation. And that is not the thought of a nice person. It is the thought of someone who is not evil.