Bones: Mayhem on a Cross
September 16th 2009 03:56
Engelsviken, Norway
A death metal band rocks out with a chainsaw. The concert is interrupted by the authorities, who approach the skeleton on stage and determine that it’s no prop. It’s human remains. American.
The body is sent to the Jeffersonian, where Cam, Bones, and Clark determine that the victim’s ribs were broken postmortem, he was never buried properly, and used as a prop for a black metal Norwegian band. He was also shot before he died, and his body shipped from the US to Norway. Meanwhile, Gordon Gordon is back to meet Sweets and be interviewed for the book Sweets is writing about Booth and Bones. He thinks Sweets’s book is great, but doesn’t agree with his interpretation of Booth and Bones’s relationship. He’s pretty sure that one of them is acutely aware of their attraction and struggles with it daily. Sweets wants to know which one, but Gordon won’t tell him. When Sweets asks him to write the intro for his book, Gordon tells him he’s retiring from psychiatry. In an attempt to talk him out of this, Booth brings him on in the investigation.
When Bones sees the old scars on Sweets’s back (she rips off his shirt to use as a compress at a Death Metal concert they investigate), Gordon Gordon points out that this is explains his near obsession with Booth and Bones’s childhoods.
Bones: Norway?
Cam: We don’t have enough crucified corpses of our own, now the Vikings are sending them?
~*~*~
Clark: The annual murder rate in Norway is 0.7.
Bones: Less than one murder a year?
Cam: In that case, they should solve the ones they have, or they'll never get any practice.
~*~*~
Bones: What’s black metal?
Clark: I don’t know, it’s Norwegian. A whole different kind of black.
~*~*~
Gordon: Must you shake my hand with quite such a vice-like grip?
~*~*~
Gordon: And on a happier note, I’m to meet your bright young thing, Dr. Sweets.
Booth: Sweets? Why Sweets?
Gordon: Well, he wants to interview me for the booth he’s writing on you and the lovely Dr. Brennan. Anyway, I can see you’re busy. *gets up* Listen, um, perhaps while I’m here I could barbeque for you one evening.
Booth: Ah, no no, I am the barbeque master, remember? You can do the boiling.
Gordon: Ah, I have it on good authority that my culinary skills have advanced somewhat since last we ate. Anyway, it’s good to see you.
Booth: Yeah, you too.
~*~*~
Gordon: I think this is the best work I have read on the dynamics of opposite personality types working towards a common cause.
Sweets: Now I’m hearing a caveat.
Gordon: It’s a small one. It’s just that Brennan and Booth aren’t in any way opposites.
Sweets: Wow, small? *laughs* What is that, British understatement?
Gordon: Oh yes, he’s a man, she’s a woman, he’s instinctual, she’s empirical.
Sweets: Opposites.
Gordon: Superficial ephemeral, Dr. Sweets.
Sweets: Wow, okay, what about the sexual component in their relationship?
Gordon: Ah.
Sweets: Would you agree that they have both, uh, sublimated their attraction to each other out of fear for endangering their working relationship because their working relationship is paramount to both of them?
Gordon: Alas, I’m afraid I wouldn’t agree with that, no.
Sweets: Wow, which part?
Gordon: Well, everything you just said. Yes, one of them is acutely aware of that attraction, struggles with it daily as a matter of fact.
Sweets: Wow…*laughs* I’m sorry I keep saying that. Which one?
Gordon: It’s your book, Dr. Sweets. I would never tell you what to write.
~*~*~
Cam: Okay, I’ll tell Booth to search for a Death Metal band named “Spew”.
~*~*~
Booth: Wait a sec, what do you mean Gordon Gordon is gonna quit psychiatry?
Sweets: Well I asked him to write the intro to my book about you two and he told me he couldn’t because he was retiring.
Bones: Is it possible he just hated your book?
Sweets: Thank you.
~*~*~
Booth: How do you know so much about this?
Sweets: I was really into Death Metal. As a teenager, not anymore, obviously.
Booth: Really…
~*~*~
Bones: This missing toe. Did it fall off after decomposition, or was it a preexisting condition?
~*~*~
Cam: You want to say “King of the Lab?”
Clark: No.
~*~*~
Gordon: So why do I have the feeling that I’m being taken somewhere terrible for a gangland whacking?
Bones: We are going somewhere terrible. *at Booth’s look* We are.
Booth: We need your expertise.
~*~*~
Bones: Booth is lying about needing you. He wants to talk you out of quitting psychiatry.
Booth: Bones, I was easing into that, okay?
~*~*~
Booth: Wait you--you were Naughty Comet! I always wondered what happened to you, you were naughty!
Gordon: Changed jobs, that’s all.
~*~*~
Gordon: Actually, you know, that fellow playing the bass is rather good.
~*~*~
*Booth shoots out the speakers*
Bones: Oh.
Gordon: Yes, now if you recall, it was shooting inanimate objects that had you brought to me for therapy in the first place.
Booth: I thought it was a justifiable shooting.
Bones: I…agree.
Booth: She agrees. See?
~*~*~
Bones: You’re 50 feet away.
Booth: At my desk, okay? So just put in the earplug and let’s do this. Don’t tell Sweets about the ear button.
~*~*~
Booth: Alright Bones, just ease into this.
Bones: *slaps down picture* What was Mayhem’s real name?
Booth: Or you could just go at ‘em like a freight train.
~*~*~
Bones: Do you want to spend time in jail, pinhead?
Booth: You can’t actually arrest people, Bones.
~*~*~
Sweets: Alright let’s start over. Tell us the name that Mayhem’s mother and father gave him, and we’ll charge you with assaulting a federal agent.
Bones: Oh, no you have that backwards.
Booth: No Bones, he’s right okay? They want to be arrested.
Bones: Ahhh, reverse psychology.
Sweets: That term is almost always misused.
~*~*~
Kid: I ate his face off before I killed him.
Bones: *grins* I am so much better at interrogation than I thought.
Sweets: Those aren’t legitimate confessions.
~*~*~
Bones: I’m disturbed that despite my extensive training in as an anthropologist, all of these bands sound alike and appear to share identical belief systems and morals.
~*~*~
Sweets: Ready?
Bones: Sweets?
Booth: *on phone* Sweets is there?
Bones: I think it’s him.
Sweets: Yeah, I had to meld to get information.
~*~*~
Bones: We need a compress! *rips off Sweets’s shirt*
Sweets: You could have asked.
~*~*~
Booth: Look, it’s alright to lie during an interrogation Bones, it’s a technique.
Bones: The evidence is inconclusive on your guilt. *jumps up, slams table* But I will damn well make sure it’s conclusive!
Sweets: Whoa, what?
Booth: That a girl! Give it to him!
Bones: I will perjure it myself if I have to because you. Make. Me. Sick…Punk.
Sweets: Dr. Brennan?
~*~*~
Gordon: Now my last official task as an FBI shrink is to declare you fit for duty! *holds up gun and badge*
Booth: Gordon, Gordon, the gun, under the table.
Gordon: Oh! I’m sorry, shhh.
~*~*~
Booth: You're gonna be a chef?
Gordon: That is correct, yes. I'm going to put good things into people instead of taking out things
that are bad. I know it's a little Freudian, but Sigmund's been largely discredited, so to hell with him.
~*~*~
Gordon: Your Dr. Sweets liked it as an adolescent, he’s turned out rather well. For the most part.
Booth: For the most part?
Gordon: Well, I read his book. And as is the case with most writing, it reveals more about the writer than about the subject matter, which in this case is you.
Bones: Can you provide an example?
Gordon: For one thing, he finds it extremely frustrating your lack of willingness of discussing your childhood experiences with him.
Bones: What does that tell you?
Booth: Don’t don’t--do not ask him that he’s going to think we both had traumatic childhoods.
Bones: We did. Your father was a violent drunk and mine abandoned me.
Booth : *claps* Great, thank you, just tell everybody here at the diner, why don’t you Bones? Go ahead.
Bones: : Sweets... has scars on his back. Old ones.
Gordon: Really?
Booth: What kind of scars?
Bones: Like he'd been whipped.
Booth: Whipped?
Bones: I saw them.
Gordon: That explains his near obsession with your childhood trauma, doesn’t it?
~*~*~
Bones: Would you mind getting on all fours?
Clark: Is that strictly necessary?
Bones: Yes. Please.
~*~*~
Booth: Okay, now how are we gonna figure this out? None of us speak Italian.
Gordon: *pointing at Booth* He does that, doesn’t he? He wants to be underestimated.
~*~*~
Booth: Okay Bones and I are gonna go in there. What we do not need is to hear a lot of psychological mumbo jumbo stuff in our ears.
~*~*~
Gordon: But these were loving wonderful people.
Sweets: Yes.
Gordon: They saved you, but now they’re gone. You’re an ophan.
Sweets: My parents died within weeks of each other.
Gordon: Recently I’d say, the wound is still fresh.
Sweets: Just before I came to work here.
Gordon: So now you're mostly alone in the world. But they had time to save you. They gave you a good life, and that's why you believe that people can be saved by other people with good hearts. That's the gift your parents left you. That, and the gift of a truly good heart. That gives you a deeper calling I do not share.
~*~*~
Gordon: Ruminate on Milton, Agent Booth. Think Paradise Lost.
Booth: *clears throat, leans over to Bones* What does that mean?
Bones: Oh, uh, Satan’s greatest sin was pride, vanity.
Booth: Right okay, you’re free to go.
~*~*~
Gordon: I think the correct term is, “Gotcha”. *high fives Sweets*
~*~*~
Booth: Well here’s to Gordon Gordon, without him we would not have been able to solve a murder.
Bones: I hate to admit it, but it’s true. To Gordon Gordon—
Gordon: Stop it, please, look this is exactly what Sweets wanted—I’m too good a psychiatrist ever to leave etc, well no-just put your glasses down, would you? Please? *they do* Might I offer you a bit of advice regarding young Dr. Sweets?
Booth: Might we try to stop you?
Bones: Why do we need advice about Sweets?
Booth: We don’t, Sweets is just fine.
Gordon: He most definitely is not fine, I’ve read his book!
Bones: What, does he say something mean about us?
Gordon: On the contrary. You might as well know that he lost both his adoptive parents just before coming to work with your de facto crime fighting unit.
Booth: What are we, The Land of Misfit Toys?
Gordon: But he’s a good lad, Sweets, but this book he’s writing, he’s using it as the vehicle to get what he actually wants, which is…a family.
Bones: So he imprinted on us like a baby duck? So what do we do?
Booth: Nothing, okay? Sweets is not a baby duck.
Gordon: He wants what we all want. He wants to find out his place in the world.
Bones: We could find a permanent place for him, right?
Booth: Ahh, Gordon Gordon is gonna want us to divulge or share or bond or something awful.
Gordon: Look, perhaps you might just show the lad that he’s not the only one with scars on his back.
Bones: But he is. *off Gordon Gordon’s look* Too literal.
Gordon: By the way, what I’m making here, this is the masterpiece that got me accepted into the Culinary Institute, alright? But, it doesn’t keep. So, uh, be back in an hour, yeah?
Booth: Let’s go.
Bones: What? Where are we going?
Booth: Duck hunting, come on.
Bones: Not literally right?
Booth: Quack. Come on. Quack quack.
~*~*~
Bones: Sweets? Hi.
Sweets: What are you doing here?
Booth: Well, uh, Gordon Gordon is uh, makin’ dinner over at my place, family style, and um, you’re invited.
Sweets: Thank you, but I’ve actually got a lot of work here and--
Bones: My foster parents locked me in the trunk of a car for two days when I broke a dish. I was a very clumsy child. They warned me it would happen, but the water was so hot and the…*close to tears* soap was so slippery. I still don't think it was fair, even though they gave me fair warning. The water was so hot.
Sweets: No, it wasn’t fair at all, it wasn’t your fault.
Booth: *pulls out a handkerchief* Bones, what are you doin’?
Bones: You said that scars on the back was a metaphor, isn’t that why we’re here, to metaphorically compare scars?
Booth: I came to bring Sweets back to my place for dinner, that’s all.
*Bones takes his handkerchief*
Sweets: "Scars on the back?"
Bones: I saw them, Sweets.
Sweets: So... what? You just decided to share something from your past? That is so unlike you.
Bones: I still hate psychology. *turns to Booth* Okay, your turn, go.
Booth: I came here to bring Sweets back to my place for dinner, that’s all. *at her look* Okay, if it wasn’t for my grandfather, I probably would have killed myself as a kid--*to Sweets* that’s all I’m gonna say on the subject, understand? *turns back to Bones* Are you okay, Bones?
Bones: Yeah I’m fine, here.
*Bones puts his handkerchief back in his pocket, pats it. Booth lays his hand on his pocket. Sweets grins, nodding.*
Bones: Why are you nodding?
Sweets: Nothing. It’s just, Wyatt made an observation about you two and I think I just saw what he saw.
Booth: You coming?
Bones: Booth means that we’d like it if you joined us.
Sweets: Thank you.
Booth: Great, here we go, let’s go.
Bones: Gordon Gordon is making Casalay.
Booth: It’s stew, it’s bean stew.
Bones: Casalay is better than regular stew.
Booth: Just because it’s French doesn’t mean it better.
Sweets: Sounds better than stew.
Bones: See?
Booth: It’s stew.
Bones: Sounds better.
Booth: It’s stew.
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