Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Eddie let out a slow, even breath as he pulled the knot of his tie snugly up against his throat. After a moment of scrutinization in the mirror, he loosened it slightly. Another moment and his fingers itched to adjust it again. Eddie let out a frustrated groan and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. This was such a stupid thing to be worried about, the proper tightness of his tie knot. Nobody was going to care. Why would they care? But he couldn’t help but feel anxious about it, all of his parents’ needling about making a good first impression through his entire childhood pricking at his brain. Sure, it was his first day at a new job, but he was a grown-ass man, there was no need to be this nervous.

”Chris!” Eddie called out, trying to distract himself from fiddling with his cuffs, “Ten minutes until liftoff, mijo, so shower now or forever hold your stink!”

Part of Eddie missed the days when Chris was younger and needed more help. Back when Shannon worked mornings and Eddie usually had classes only in the afternoon and Chris’s absolute favorite part of the morning routine was Eddie helping him brush his teeth. Years had passed since then and a lot had changed. Chris was nearly eleven and getting more independent by the day. Eddie was divorced and newly out. His relationship with Shannon was better than it had ever been when they were married. He even got along with Paul, her long-term boyfriend, enough so that he had been thrilled when she had moved in with Paul several weeks ago as he’d been finishing up his training at Quantico. Eddie was feeling more settled in his own skin now than ever, it only took him 30 years to get there.

And now he had a brand new job, something that allowed him to take the skills he had learned in the army and put them to better use. His request to be placed at the LA office had been a pipe dream and Eddie was honestly still surprised it had gone through. And so grateful. He had not been looking forward to having to figure out the Chris of it all if he’d had to work across the country. This way, not only was he able to see his abuela and tia Pepa whenever he wanted, but he and Shannon could continue the joint custody they had been perfecting since before they had officially split.

Eddie refocused on the image of himself in the mirror and he had to admit that he cut a strong and mildly intimidating figure in his suit. It was new, a gift from Shannon in honor of his new job.

”You’ve got this, Eddie,” he told his nervous-looking reflection, consciously straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders, “Special Agent Eddie Diaz, FBI.” Just saying it gave him a thrill and Eddie shot a pair of finger guns at his reflection.

”Wow, dad, that was so cool and definitely not lame.”

Eddie didn’t jump out of his skin at the sudden appearance of his son in the bedroom doorway, but it was a near thing.

”Your support,” Eddie grumbled good-naturedly, “as always, is appreciated.”

Chris snorted out a laugh and Eddie couldn’t help but grin. At least his son still enjoyed his sense of humor. Eddie was sure that wouldn’t last long when his teenage years came fully into form. Eddie would enjoy it while he could. Eddie made a quick glance at his watch and grimaced. So much for a morning coffee.

”Alright, we’ve got to head out, no time for a fancy breakfast,” he said, as if he had ever made a fancy breakfast in his life, “Tell you what, if you also have an apple and don’t tell your mother, you can have poptarts.”

”We have poptarts?” Chris asked with feigned surprise.

”I know you know where my secret stash is, you monster,” Eddie laughed, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how quickly the s’mores ones disappear. Go on, I’ll meet you in the car.”

”Thanks dad!”

Chris was gone as quickly as his crutches could carry him and Eddie let himself take one more moment of nervous anxiety.

”Okay,” he murmured to himself, “let’s go.”

Even with the extra drive time he had budgeted for being in an unfamiliar area, Eddie hadn’t accounted for the positively horrendous LA morning commute traffic. Still, he managed to get Chris to school on time and after a reminder that his mother would be picking him up for his next couple weeks with her and a promise that they would FaceTime that evening so they could trade stories about their day, Eddie headed towards the FBI LA headquarters.

He arrived with seconds to spare and tried not to let the stress show on his face. Eddie’s first day as a fully fledged agent actually wasn’t that interesting. There was a seemingly unending number of manuals and videos from HR and health and safety to slog through, not to mention getting his ID badge and learning how to use the computer system. It wasn’t until his second week on the job that things started getting interesting.

”Diaz.”

Eddie looked up from his computer at the call of his name. The LA office Director’s administrative assistant, Linda, was waving him over. Eddie locked his computer and hopped up to join her. Linda was unassuming on the outside, but she knew everything that went on in the office, both in terms of casework and gossip. Eddie liked Linda, she kept sending him recipes so simple that even he couldn’t mess them up, and he had once burnt water.

”Director Blevins wants to see you,” Linda said, leading the way to the office.

”Good or bad?” Eddie asked. He hadn’t had the chance to meet Sue Blevins yet but the other agents seemed to like and respect her.

”That depends,” Linda mused, “Are you ready to get your new assignment?”

Eddie felt a thrill go through him. So far he’d been a glorified desk jockey for the more senior agents, but he was finally going to get his own work, his own cases.

”Your mission,” Eddie intoned in a put-on lower voice, “should you choose to accept it.”

Linda laughed. “Alright, Double-O-Seven.”

There was another person already waiting in Director Blevin’s office when Linda escorted him in. If it was going to be anybody, Eddie would have thought maybe Deputy Director Russo—he and Eddie didn’t actually dislike each other, but they weren’t really friends and Eddie honestly had no idea why. This wasn’t Deputy Director Russo, though. For one thing it was a woman, a good half a foot shorter than him but exuding a badass energy that was only accentuated by the LAPD uniform she wore. Eddie had the feeling that he didn’t want to get on her bad side.

”And here he is,” Director Blevins said with a smile, “the newest addition to the LA office, Eddie Diaz. Sorry we haven’t had a chance to sit down and chat, it’s been a busy month. You’re settling in okay?”

”Yes, ma’am,” Eddie replied.

”Good, good,” Director Blevins said, “and both of you sit down, you’re making my feet hurt just looking at you.”

Eddie and the police officer both did as they were told.

”Eddie,” Director Blevins continued, “this is Sergeant Athena Grant, our liaison with the LAPD. Athena, I think Diaz here is the perfect man for the job.”

Eddie was…confused. It felt like he had missed a step somewhere and it left him a little on the back foot.

”Is that so?” Sergeant Grant mused, studying Eddie with discerning brown eyes.

”Top of his class in the physical exam,” Director Blevins told her, “and he’s not just brawn. Top 5% in behavioral science, a great investigative mind, Quantico was very impressed. And an army vet to boot! Bobby and I agree, he’s a perfect match for your boy.”

Eddie felt his cheeks heat and hoped his blush wasn’t too evident. He hadn’t realized Director Blevins was so clued into his training scores. Hearing such effusive praise from his superior was something he wasn’t really used to. Then he registered the rest. Who was Bobby and who was Sergeant Grant’s boy?

”Well I trust Bobby’s instincts,” Sergeant Grant said with a trace of amusement, turning to Eddie and extending a hand, “Welcome to the team.”

”Thanks,” Eddie replied as he shook her hand, “What team exactly?”

”Of course you weren’t briefed,” Director Blevins sighed, “I told Josh to…never mind. Diaz, I’d like you to be our liaison with the One Eighteen Forensic Institute. Athena here is your counterpart within the LAPD so I’d like for the two of you to be the main point of contact between our two organizations.”

”Will this involve fieldwork, ma’am?” Eddie asked. What did a liaison even do, he wondered. Liaise, Eddie supposed. Whatever the hell that meant.

”Most certainly,” confirmed Director Blevins, “I know I’m kind of throwing you in the deep end here, Diaz, but I have faith in you. Since this is going to be your first case there and Athena is already an old hand, I’ve asked her to accompany you to the Institute and introduce you around.”

She slid a case file across the desk and Eddie resisted the urge to flip it open immediately.

”I’ll have Linda make sure you’re set up with the permissions to drive an FBI vehicle by the end of today,” Director Blevins continued, “but I’m sure that for today Athena won’t mind having a different sort of passenger in her squad car.”

”Not at all,” said Sergeant Grant magnanimously, “Come on, Diaz, time is wasting.”

Eddie grabbed the file and gave his boss a nod before he followed Sergeant Grant to her cruiser.

”Since we’re going to be working together, you can just call me Eddie,” he said as they pulled away from the FBI building, “I don’t really like the whole last name thing. Hated it in the army too. Ma’am.”

Sergeant Grant sighed. “Don’t call me ma’am. If you insist on honorifics at least go with Sergeant, but just Athena will do.”

Athena didn’t really much seem like one for small talk, so Eddie kept himself busy with the case file during the drive. He knew that it would probably benefit him to take note of the route, maybe familiarize himself with their path through the city, but he really wanted to make sure he was prepared for whatever he was stepping into and that meant reading the casefile.

When he’d heard “forensic institute,” Eddie had expected some kind of big, fairly high tech building, but that definitely wasn’t what he got. On the outside it actually looked a lot like a firehouse, although where the big doors for the trucks to get in and out were supposed to be had been filled in and turned into a very normal-looking entrance. A sign with the logo stood in pride of place out front. It was the inside of the building that really showed its repurposing. They had to be buzzed through three different doors and pass by a manned security desk to even get inside. The front hallway appeared to be only offices, four of them to be exact. One door was closed and Eddie could see what appeared to be a Halloween skeleton decoration on it, which was odd considering it was already March. The other three were varying degrees of being open. Athena led him to the one closest to the front, the plaque on the wall proudly proclaiming “Robert Nash, Director.”

”Knock knock,” Athena said, her eyes on the man sitting behind the desk who was frowning down at some paperwork.

When he saw her, Director Nash’s scowl melted into a smile that made him look at least ten years younger.

”Brought you a gift,” continued Athena, her voice fond.

”And it’s not even my birthday,” joked Director Nash, rising from his chair to come over and greet them.

”Eddie Diaz, sir,” Eddie introduced, “FBI.”

”Just Bobby is fine,” the other man assured, “We don’t really stand on formality here and since you’ll hopefully be spending a lot of time with us, neither should you.”

”Hopefully,” Eddie repeated with slight amusement, shaking Bobby’s hand, “From what I understand you asked for me specifically, so I should hope that things will work out.”

Bobby chuckled, “Fair enough. Well then Eddie, why don’t you come and meet the rest of the gang and we’ll let Athena get back to work.”

”Have fun,” Athena said with a half smile, “Don’t let Buck and his enthusiasm scare this one away.”

”Be safe out there,” Bobby replied,”Meatloaf for dinner tonight?”

”Sounds perfect, see you at home.”

Bobby leaned down so Athena could easily press a kiss to his cheek and then with one last pat on Eddie’s arm, she was gone.

”So you two are…”

”Married,” confirmed Bobby, “Several years now. I understand you have a son?”

Eddie furrowed his brow slightly, wondering about the relevance, “Yes, Chris, he’s ten.”

Bobby nodded, “My step-son Harry is close to that age. We’ll have to set something up for them.”

”Oh,” Eddie flushed slightly, “Sir, Bobby, you don’t have to—“

”When you’re part of the team, you’re part of the family,” Bobby told him, “Both of you. It’s really no trouble.”

”I share custody with my ex-wife,” Eddie admitted, “Chris isn’t always with me.”

”I have step-kids, Eddie,” reminded Bobby, “I know what it means to plan around custody agreements. Now, why don’t we get going on those introductions. I understand there’s a case that’ll need to be dealt with at some point soon.”

The only other currently occupied office contained Dr Howard “call me Chimney” Han, one of the two forensic pathologists on staff.

”Hen is down in autopsy,” Chimney replied when Bobby asked about the whereabouts of the other doctor, “that case Detective Ransone referred to us. Based on the scans, it looks like multiple SFT and possible strangulation. She’ll be on that for a while. You know, Bobby, we really could use—“

”Yes, I know,” Bobby sighed, “I’m working on getting the funds, but you know we’re also trying to finish up the DNA lab, which also will require staffing.”

”All good, Cap,” Chimney placated with a grin, “just figured it wouldn't hurt to remind you every so often.”

”Duly noted,” said Bobby dryly, “Let Hen know to call up when she’s done. We’ll have lunch when she’s free.”

Chimney gave him a sloppy salute. “Will do. Oh, and don’t tell Buckeroo about the case. You know how much Hen likes to tell him herself when he gets to do some cooking.”

Bobby let out a long-suffering groan, “Please don’t call it cooking. I can’t afford a negative Pavlovian response to that word.”

”Tell your son, he’s the one who started it,” laughed Chimney.

”Not my son, Chim.”

”Sure, Cap.”

Leaving Chimney to his own devices, Bobby started leading Eddie towards an elevator at the end of the hall.

”Why does he call you Cap?” Eddie asked. He had other questions too, of course, like whether the Buck Athena had mentioned and Chimney’s Buckeroo were the same person. Why Chim joked that he was Bobby’s son. What the heck they meant by “cooking” in a negative sense. These things, Eddie reasoned, he could figure out later.

”I opened this facility about four years ago,” explained Bobby, “but before that I was a firefighter, actually a fire captain, back in Minnesota.”

”Hence Cap,” Eddie nodded, “Why’d you stop firefighting?”

Bobby grimaced ruefully. “I lost too much to fire, including my passion for fighting it. But with this I can help people in a different way. The municipal medical examiners are worked off their feet and sometimes families want answers more quickly than the city can provide it. So they can come to us. There’s a fee, but it’s not exorbitant. Anyone can refer cases to us as well: private citizens, the LAPD, the FBI.”

”Which is why you need a liaison,” realized Eddie.

”Exactly.” Bobby confirmed, “A lot of the cases that your people refer to us are because they need some kind of very specialist skills. Come on, time to meet Buck.”

Eddie wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had cultivated an image of the mysterious Buck during the short journey from the office space to the anthropology lab. Anthropology, Eddie thought, had something to do with people but he’d only really heard of it in relation to things like Neanderthals and the unfortunately named Homo erectus, which he had vague memories of the boys in his high school science classes laughing at. He honestly had no idea how that related to forensics.

In any case, Eddie had an idea in his head of what this Buck guy was supposed to look like—it was a bit stereotypical, Eddie knew, to picture a kind of nerdy guy, all button down shirts and glasses and the superiority that came from having gotten a PhD and a job in his field. So to say that he was surprised when he first saw Dr Evan Buckley would be an understatement.

The anthropology lab was one big room with a row of three large lab tables. One of them was covered in various metal trays that held lidded jars containing…something in a clear liquid. Some of the trays had empty jars with individual bones or groups of bone pieces arranged in some specific way beside them. The second lab table was empty, but the third held a spread of bones—Eddie could recognize a skull but the rest was beyond him—with a man in a lab coat leaning over them.

”Buck,” Bobby sighed, “we got the adjustable tables so that you wouldn’t have to ruin your back while you work.”

The man looked up and grinned, the broadness of it making his eyes crinkle up in the corners. His blue, blue eyes. Then he straightened and Eddie could practically feel the thoughts draining out of his brain. Evan Buckley was tall and broad and had an enchanting smile and amazing blue eyes and…yup. Eddie had never been more sure in his entire life just how completely and utterly gay he was. Okay then. He could hear a voice that sounded suspiciously like Shannon laughing in that back of his mind. Nobody had been more unsurprised than her when he’d come out.

”It’s a right of passage for all anthropologists,” Evan Buckley—Buck—told Bobby, “We may not die young, but our joints sure do. I’m just getting more of a head start.”

”I would rather you just avoid all that,” said Bobby, “C’mon, kid.”

Buck rolled his eyes in a playfully put-upon manner and reached under the table. He must have pressed some kind of remote or button because the table started rising until it came up to his waist. He seemed to suddenly catch sight of Eddie and his grin didn’t so much fade as get a bit harder, more apprising.

”Who’s this, then?”

”Come and say hi,” Bobby told him, “I’ll go get the kid.”

Bobby headed towards the far end of the lab and Eddie was far too distracted by Buck bounding over—curls, he had curls—to wonder where he was going.

”Special Agent Diaz, FBI,” Eddie introduced, trying his hardest to regulate his volume, “Edmundo, uh, Eddie.”

Buck gave him a once over as he shook Eddie’s hand and it made Eddie feel a bit hot under the collar.

”Forensic Anthropologist Dr Evan Buckley of the One Eighteen,” he said, the tone of his voice teasing, “Buck if you’re nasty.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

”Janet Jackson?” Buck prodded, “No? Nevermind.”

Bobby returned then with a younger guy in tow, a bit more in line with what Eddie had thought a lab scientist would look like—slighter, younger, also wearing a lab coat as well as some clear plastic safety glasses.

”An FBI agent,” the new guys said with an excited smile, “that means field work. Can I come too? I’ve done my task for the day. The DNA sample is ready for transfer, the rib SFT cast is drying, the age estimation is cooking, and I left my case report on your desk for review already.”

There was a lot there that Eddie didn’t understand yet, but he could spot a student worker from a mile away and this guy obviously was one.

”This is Ravi Panikkar, my assistant,” Buck laughed, “I’m on his supervisory team for his PhD at UCLA. Ravi, this is Eddie Diaz.”

”I would be done already if it wasn’t for you,” Ravi snarked.

”Oh yes, how dare I help you figure out what you want to do with your life,” Buck replied in a deadpan, “I thought you wanted to join us in the field.”

Immediately, the eager look was back on Ravi’s face as he glanced between Buck and Bobby. The latter raised his hands in deference and gestured towards Buck.

”Oh, let him come,” Eddie said finally, “I feel like saying no would be like kicking a puppy or something.”

”Usually I’m the one being compared to a dog,” Buck chuckled, “but if the shoe fits.”

”Yes!” Ravi did a little fist pump. “Thanks Mr Agent Diaz, sir.”

”Just Eddie is fine,” Eddie told him with amusement.

”Go get the kit bag,” Buck instructed, “Don’t forget to put the battery in the camera. We’ll meet you at the van.”

Eddie felt a little bit jittery as Buck pulled the van to a stop. They were at a small manmade lake just outside the bounds of a cemetery, the area cordoned off with the stereotypical bright yellow police tape. There was one police cruiser already present as well as black SUV with its hidden red and blue lights flashing. His first investigation. Wow. Eddie tried not to let the excitement show as he climbed out of the One Eighteen anthropology van. As Buck and Ravi busied themselves with some equipment in the back of the van, Eddie straightened his tie and made his way over to the two uniformed officers and one plain-clothes detective standing by the shore of the lake.

”Agent Diaz,” he said, showing his badge to the detective, “nice to meet you. Fill me in?”

The detective gave Eddie a very obvious once over and then grinned.”Ransone. Athena tells me you’re the new spook they’ve got hanging around the One Eighteen.”

Eddie blinked. “News travels fast in the LAPD, I see,” he said weakly.

Ransone laughed, “Nah, Athena and I just go way back. We’ve worked on these sorts of cases together before. Hey, Buckley, how’s it going?”

”Detective Ransone.” Buck’s voice was chipper and bright, filled with the exact excitement Eddie was trying so hard to hide. “It’s a good day to find some bones. You remember my assistant Ravi?”

For his part, Ransone didn't seem at all put off by Buck’s apparent joy. He actually looked quite amused by it.

”Hi,” Ravi chirped. He was holding a very full-looking bag that had trowels and a miniature pickaxe hanging in some loops on the outside of it. There was something Eddie recognized as a camera bag slung across his chest and a deconstructed cardboard box under his arm.

Ransone gave him a nod in greeting. “Alright, I’m sure you’ve looked at the case file, but I’ll give you the rundown anyway.”

Eddie tried not to bristle at the fact that the detective was speaking only to Buck while basically ignoring Eddie. He was the new guy here while the rest of them had history. Eddie was sure that he’d be able to pull the focus if necessary, but there was no use in posturing and trying to shoulder his way into things right now.

”Mr and Mrs Klein arrived at the cemetery this morning to pay some respects,” Ransone said, indicating the gravestones behind him. The lake was technically on the cemetery grounds so there wasn’t anything blocking access, “Mrs Klein came out to the lakeside to give her husband some time to himself and ended up spotting something strange.”

He walked them over to the muddy shore of the lake. There, marked with a small pink ribbon tied to a stake was—

“A bone,” Eddie said, looking at the thing. It wasn’t large, maybe six inches long, and with a mild s-shaped curve.

”A human bone,” Buck said, not getting too close, probably so that he didn’t disturb it, “A clavicle, if we’re precise.”

”Left,” Ravi added.

Buck rolled his eyes, but it was a fond sort of thing. “A PhD, two years working on mass graves, and two years on the job and I still need a reference to side the clavicle. Meanwhile, this guy has some kind of sixth sense about it.”

And that’s…once again a lot of information being thrown out with no time to process it.

”We found the rest of the remains in the lake,” Ransone continued, “half buried, still in clothes. We secured them as best as we could to prevent further scattering, but I figured you’d want to do your own mapping and collecting.”

”You’re my favorite, Lou,” Buck said with a grin.

”After Athena,” Ransone smirked.

”That’s different,” Buck told him, waving a hand, “and you know it. Ravi!”

Ravi, who was standing right next to Buck, winced at the sudden shout.

”Yup,” he said, carefully placing down the things he was holding, “I’ll go get the waders.”

”Get a plastic bin too,” Buck told him.

Collecting skeletal remains, Eddie learned, was a painstakingly methodical process. There was a lot of measuring and note taking and map drawing involved and that was before they even started actually collecting the remains. Eddie was sure that it helped that the bones were still wrapped up in clothes as they were able to lift everything at once and place it in the large plastic bin that had been filled with enough lake water to keep them submerged. Apparently it was better to keep them that way until they could be brought to the lab so that there wouldn’t be any addition damage done due to them drying.

”So,” Eddie said, a couple hours later, “what are we thinking?”

Buck was standing by him, both of them watching as Ravi scooped up bucketfuls of the muddy lake bottom that the remains had been laying on. Eddie assumed it was to check for any bones that might have fallen out.

”About what?” Buck asked.

When Buck looked at him, Eddie raised an eyebrow and waved a hand at the plastic box, at Ravi grimacing as the water sloshed over the top edge of his waders, at the scene in general.

”There are human skeletal remains,” Buck responded in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. I was hoping for something more specific.”

Buck glanced at Eddie, over to the bin of remains, and then back to Eddie. “How?”

”You’re the expert, aren’t you?” Eddie pushed, “Can’t you give me something more?”

”You’ve been watching too many TV procedurals,” Buck laughed.

Eddie shrugged noncommittally. He definitely did, especially when he didn’t have Chris and could indulge in things not quite appropriate for a pre-teen.

”It’s not like I’m magic or anything,” Buck told him, “the bones don’t speak to me without a little convincing.”

As if that statement made any sense.

“You can’t give me anything?” Eddie prodded, “Anything at all?”

Buck sighed, “You don’t know a single thing, do you.”

”Uh, rude?”

”I can’t,” Buck continued as if Eddie hadn’t spoken, “just look at some skeletal remains from twenty feet away and say ‘oh look, this was a 39 year old man who was 5 foot 10.’ That’s not how it works. That’s not how any of this works. Forensic anthropology is a science, I mean sure it’s not the most exact science, we’re always talking in estimations. But they’re estimations based on observations and measurements and known data with the statistics to back it up. So, no, Agent Diaz, I can’t just ‘give you anything,’ not yet. It takes time.”

The longer he’d been speaking, the more animated Buck had become, his arms going haywire. His chest was heaving as if he'd run a mile and Eddie couldn't help but be impressed.

”Kinda feels like you’ve been waiting a long time to say that, huh?”

”Yeah,” Buck looked sheepish now, “I don’t like it when my field gets misrepresented.”

Eddie chuckled, “Noted.”

If Eddie’s life had a soundtrack, half of it would probably be that weirdly flat digital ringing of a FaceTime call. Eddie settled back into his seat on the couch with a grunt of relief–dad noises, Chris called them–and balanced the tablet on his knees with one hand so he could take a pull of his beer. Speaking of Chris, the ringing came to a sudden halt and the screen was gray for a moment before his son’s grinning face came into view.

“Hey, dad!”

Eddie could tell by the wall behind him that Chris was in the kitchen of Shannon and Paul’s house, probably doing homework.

“Hola, mijo, how was school today?”

It had been a long day and Eddie was looking forward to getting an update on his son’s silly pre-teen dramas. After the remains, as well as a few buckets of heavy, muddy lake-floor had been collected and transported back to the forensic institute, the rest of his afternoon–after a ridiculously delicious family-style lunch cooked by Bobby where Eddie got to meet Dr Hen Wilson, the second pathologist on staff–had been spent watching Buck and Ravi at work. He hadn’t really needed to observe the whole time, but after Buck’s impassioned speech Eddie was curious. So far, Eddie had discovered that forensic anthropology required a lot of photography and note taking. But still, by the end of the work day all of the mud had been sifted through and a few more bones unearthed and the rest of the bones had been carefully untangled and removed from the clothing then photographed and placed out on a multitude of trays to dry overnight.

“...so now Kelly and Nate aren’t talking at all,” Chris was complaining, “but they’re trying not to make the rest of the group pick sides so we’re all still eating lunch together.”

“That’s very mature of them,” commented Eddie. He had missed a lot of the Kelly-Nate Saga while he was training at Quantico, but he’d heard enough to get the gist.

“I guess,” Chris groaned in frustration, “but it just means that lunch is really awkward.”

“I have faith in your ability to survive some awkward lunches,” Eddie chuckled, “So I have some exciting news.”

Chris perked up, “You’re not riding the desk anymore?”

“Riding the desk?” Eddie repeated with amusement, “Who taught you that?”

“I heard it on TV,” Chris explained, “Paul was watching this one show about cops or whatever and they say it all the time.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “So you’re watching cop shows now? And it’s not too much for you?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Daaad, it’s a funny show, there’s no blood or anything, I promise.”

Well good. Eddie didn’t think he was ready for his son to be old enough to watch dramatic police procedurals. Although, that being said…

“So I guess you don’t want to hear about my day?”

”I do! Please!”

Of course he wouldn't tell Chris about some things and he couldn’t talk about other things because of the NDAs he’d signed with the FBI and the LAPD and the One Eighteen, but he gave Chris the basics.

”His whole job is skeletons?” Chris breathed when Eddie told him about Buck, “That’s so cool!”

And Eddie really should have guessed. His son wasn’t a fan of blood or other such gross things, but bones? Well that was a bit close to his whole dinosaur obsession to not be considered the absolute coolest thing. Eddie was sure that Buck would have some choice words about the differences between paleontology and anthropology, but Buck wasn’t part of this conversation so Eddie certainly wasn’t going to be the one to do it.

”This doesn’t sound like homework to me.”

Chris’s head whipped around to look somewhere off screen.

”Mom, dad met a skeleton man at work!” He explained, explaining nothing.

Shannon wandered into the frame, an amused look on her face. “Is that so?”

”An anthropologist,” Eddie clarified, “he works with bones.”

”Skeleton man,” repeated Shannon with an understanding nod, “got it. Alright Chris, have you done your math yet?”

The groan Chris let out had Eddie rolling his lips together to stifle a laugh.

”I don’t like pre-algebra,” Christopher whined, “it’s hard. Why do we need to have letters in math anyway? I don’t get it.”

”Well lucky for you,” Shannon said, “you have easy access to a math genius. Give me your father. I’m sure if you ask nicely, Paul will explain it and help you with your homework.”

Chris continued to grumble even as he collected his math workbook and ambled away. Eddie gave it a few moments after he could no longer hear Chris before he burst into laughter, Shannon’s giggles soon joining him. Even weirdly tinny and broken up by the sometimes unstable connection, the sound still brought him joy. Shannon had been his friend before she’d become the mother of his child and Eddie was so glad that she could now be both without the weight of their ill-advised marriage hanging over them.

”Poor kid got stuck with double the genes for being bad at math,” Eddie joked.

”Thank god for Paul,” Shannon shot back, “otherwise he’d never learn.”

”Thank god for Paul,” Eddie agreed.

There was a time when a sentiment like that would have sent him into a spiral. Eddie liked Paul, he truly did. Eddie and Shannon had already been separated when she met him and divorced before they started going out, but Eddie had been still smarting from what he’d perceived as his failure to be a real man—thanks mom and dad—and grappling with his sexuality and resenting the mere idea of another man trying to father his son. But Eddie went to therapy to unravel his complicated history with his parents and religion, he and Shannon talked ad nauseum about co-parenting and their expectations for any current or future partners either of them brought into the equation. Things were good now, Paul was good, Eddie was better than he had ever been. The FBI-required regular psych evaluations would help make sure of that. All that was left was for this whole One Eighteen thing to work out. That was all he needed.

The next time he visited, Eddie made his own way to the One Eighteen and it was in one of the FBI’s unmarked black SUVs. Even though he was there already before, something about coming in alone for the first time was giving him those first day jitters. At least Bobby met him at the security desk to get a visitor’s tag.

”You’ll have to be escorted by a member of staff for now,” Bobby told him, leading the way back towards the anthropology lab, “We’ll work on getting you a key card later.”

After he’d proven himself, Eddie filled in mentally, after he’d shown that he planned to stick around. It made something inside himself shore up, prepared to do his best to make his place here. Bobby left him at the lab door with a pat on the shoulder and Eddie took a deep breath before he stepped inside. Ravi was nowhere in sight, but Buck was there bending over one of the lab tables about halfway down its length. It was exactly the same way Eddie had seen Buck for the first time, he realized with some amusement.

”You know, I think I have to agree with Bobby,” Eddie called out as he wandered closer with his hands in his pockets, “that can’t be good for your spine. You of all people should know the proper way to take care of your bones, Skeleton Man.”

Buck looked up from whatever he was doing, his nose wrinkling in a way that was unfairly adorable for a man his size.

”Skeleton Man? Seriously?”

Eddie laughed, slightly self-conscious, “Sorry, my kid called you that, he’s been asking about you ever since I explained your job to him.”

Buck stood upright, a look of pleased shock on his face.

”Your kid gave me a nickname? You told your kid about me?” He sounded awed, “Wait, you have a kid?”

Buck bounded over the moment Eddie reached from his phone to pull up a picture.

”Christopher,” Eddie said, “he’s ten.”

Instead of taking the phone from him, Buck simply grabbed Eddie’s wrist to pull it closer to himself. His touch felt like a brand against Eddie’s skin and he made a concerted effort not to react too much.

”He’s adorable. I love kids.”

”He’s also a menace,” Eddie replied, swiping to a different picture, one that Paul had sent him of Chris and Shannon with their fingers and mouths stained with chocolate as they scraped the dregs of the eggless brownie batter from the sides of a mixing bowl.

”Oh,” Buck said with a chuckle, “I can see. And that’s your…”

”That’s Chris’s mother,” Eddie confirmed, “my ex. We’re divorced, she has a boyfriend.”

Eddie had absolutely no idea why it was so important to him that Buck know that. It felt relevant somehow.

”I’m sorry?” Buck offered.

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t be, he’s a good guy, he’s nice and good with Chris, which is really the bare minimum that I’d look for in a boyfriend.”

And that was…okay Eddie was out, sure, but he hadn’t thought he was at the point of casually mentioning it to someone he barely knew yet.

”Hence why she’s my ex,” Eddie added, as if he hadn’t been clear enough. He blushed when Buck just chuckled. The anthropologist’s fingers tightened slightly where they were still wrapped around Eddie’s wrist before he let go and took a step back.

”Well then, you’ll definitely fit right in here,” he said, “Hen’s a lesbian, I’m bi, Ravi is pan. We’re a regular rainbow here at the One Eighteen.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he meant to say, but for some reason the thing that popped out of his mouth was, “Groovy.”

Buck blinked at him for a moment and then burst into a full-on belly laugh. Eddie felt like his cheeks might catch fire with the strength of his blush.

“Because of the rainbow thing,” he tried to explain, “you know, rainbow, colors, groovy. Shut up.”

Eddie was laughing by then too, any speck of anxiety he had been feeling completely gone.

”I judged you so wrongly,” Buck told him when they had both finally calmed, “I saw the suit and heard your agent title and I kind of expected you to be some kind of macho meathead, but you’re kind of a dork, aren’t you.”

”I feel like I should be offended,” Eddie commented mildly, “And you’re one to talk, what do you need all those muscles for anyway?”

”Just because brainy is the new sexy, it doesn’t mean I can’t want to be regular sexy too,” Buck told him with a wink.

It hit Eddie very suddenly that they were flirting, he had slipped into it so easily he hadn’t even had to try. Eddie had never felt this comfortable while flirting before. It was nice. It was also scary.

Eddie cleared his throat and took a small step back. “So, has it been enough time for you to have some info about John Doe over there?”

Buck didn’t look at all offended by the sudden change in tone, his flirty smile easily shifting into a more excited one.

”Jane Doe, actually,” he said, leading Eddie towards the lab table he’d been working on, “the remains are female, or at least the morphological features point in that direction.”

Eddie had been a medic in the army so he’d seen his fair share of gruesome injuries and dead bodies and even bone, but something about seeing a whole skeleton on its own spread out on a table hit him differently. The bones weren’t white, but instead a sort of muddy brown with splashes of green, he assumed it was from being in the water. It all took up much more room on the table than a plain body would, considering the spaces between the bones. As far as Eddie could tell, it looked pretty much complete. There were a few things he noticed right away—something wrapped around one of the leg bones, some kind of mark on the skull, a small tray nearby with what looked like more bones spread across it.

”Female,” he repeated.

Buck nodded, “Biologically, anyway. Sex not gender.”

”Right,” Eddie agreed, “How do you know it’s female? Not doubting you, just curious.”

“Oh,” said Buck, looking surprised, “Of course. Well, the estimate is based on a few different things.”

With an ease that came from experience, Buck slipped on a pair of lab gloves–size large, Eddie definitely did not notice–and picked up the skull. The human skull. Eddie couldn’t help but marvel at how nonchalant he was about the whole thing.

“There are certain parts of the skull I can look at, like here,” he pointed to a place on the back of the skull, “and here,” he ran a finger over the mildly protruding brows, “and of course this,” he placed a finger against a sort of triangular protrusion below what Eddie could only assume was an ear hole, “and even how sharp this upper border is.” He pinched the top of the eye socket between his thumb and pointer finger.

He looked at Eddie for a moment.

“And,” Buck continued slowly, putting down the skull and picking up what Eddie recognized as one side of the pelvis, “when you look at the innominate, there’s also the subpubic angle and the ventral arc. Plus,” his tempo was starting to pick up now the longer he spoke. He picked up the other half of the pelvis and held them together, although there was a large gap in the back, “you can see that the pelvic outlet is bigger and rounder rather than oval-shaped for child-birth reasons. But that’s just the visual stuff, it’s graded on a scale of one to five and then I use this computer program to do a statistical analysis of the results. There’s also metric things, like the diameter of the femoral and humeral heads.”

Eddie was mostly following along except for some of the terminology, but that slight confusion must have shown on his face because Buck stopped talking very suddenly.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “that was probably too much, you probably don’t really care about all those specifics.”

“No,” Eddie said, then rushed to correct himself, “I mean, yes! I asked, I’m interested. I want to know.”

The way Buck looked at him then was adorably shy, cheeks pink as he looked at Eddie from underneath soft lashes, “Really? I mean, most people just kind of stop paying attention when I go off like that.”

“Well I’m not most people,” Eddie told him firmly, “and as you pointed out the other day, I don’t know anything. So come on, Skeleton Man, educate me.”

If Eddie had thought that Buck looking shy was adorable then the way his expression filled with awe was downright mesmerizing.

“Okay,” Eddie prompted, “so female…”

Buck shook his head as if clearing it. “Right, yeah. Obviously I’ll write up something official for you, but I can take you through some things.”

He picked up one half of the pelvis again and showed Eddie the place where the two halves would meet at the front. The surface looked rippled like water during a mild wind.

“This is the pubic symphysis,” he explained, “it’s somewhere between a phase 1 and a phase 2. Then when we look at the fourth rib,” he put down the pelvis and moved up to the ribcage, gesturing to it, “Both left and right sternal rib ends are at a phase 2. Those are the Hartnett method, of course.”

“Of course,” Eddie parroted.

“The medial clavicle,” Buck continued, picking up the wavy bone Eddie remembered seeing by the lakeside, “is fully fused.”

“What about the wisdom teeth?” Eddie asked, “Those come out later, right?”

Buck beamed. “Well, well so you do know something! The third molars erupt later, yeah. If they’re there, they can only help, but there are so many people who just don’t have a third molar these days or get them extracted for orthodontic reasons, so the absence doesn’t necessarily mean a younger person. In this case, she does have her third molars, fully erupted as well. All of those things together means you’re looking for a younger woman, most likely between the ages of 22 and 27.”

Buck reached into a small wire basket attached to the table to pull out a clipboard with a stack of papers. He flipped through them for a moment. Among other things, Eddie caught sight of a skeleton diagram with a lot of his filled in with pink highlighter and several lined pages of hand-written notes.

“Before we get to the really interesting stuff,” said Buck, “I can tell you that based on the length of the femur and tibia she was between five foot four and five foot nine. Based on the muscle markings on her humerus, she regularly did activity with her arms, could be sports or working out or even carrying a lot of cast iron cookware. All I can tell you is that she was most likely in pretty good shape. Alright, are you ready for the fun part?”

“I think you probably have a weird definition of fun,” Eddie commented.

Buck resettled the papers he had flipped through with a quick snap of his wrist and a grin. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Alright then” Eddie returned with his own grin, “hit me, Skeleton Man.”

“You know, that’s kind of starting to grow on me.”

“Christopher will be thrilled.”

“A worthy goal, I’m sure. Let’s kick things off with a disclaimer. I can’t tell you anything about how she or anybody else died,” Buck told him, “Cause of death? Manner of death? Not my purview. All I can tell you is what I see on the bones and what might have caused that trauma as well as whether it happened generally before death, around the time of death, or after the bones were already dry.”

“You’ve got enough rules to be a genie, you know that?” Eddie commented, “If you start doing a Robin Williams impression, I’m leaving.” The look Buck leveled him with was nothing short of incredulous and Eddie shrugged, completely unabashed. “Hey, I’ve got a kid, I’ve watched a lot of Disney.”

“Sure, okay that checks out. Anyway, come take a look. Obviously, we have this barbed wire wrapped around the left tibia,” Buck said, pointing to the bone in the leg closest to the foot, “but not just that, if you look closer you can see that this part of the bone is a bit wider than it should be,” he indicated an area near the bottom where the bone narrowed, “That’s a healing callus. I can’t know the exact stage of healing without doing a histological exam, but it means that she broke the bone at least a few months prior to her death.”

Eddie hummed in thought. The same bone that had been broken being wrapped in barbed wire didn’t sound like a coincidence to him. It was likely that whoever had done this knew about the injury.

“Could she have walked on this?” Eddie mused out loud, not really expecting a reply. So he was surprised when Buck had one.

“Not without a boot at least,” the forensic anthropologist said, “It depends on how far along in the recovery she was and how severe of a break she had to begin with.”

Eddie didn’t quite understand the meaning behind the rueful smile Buck sent his way.

“I have my fair share of experiences with broken legs.”

And Eddie didn’t know what to make of that either. He was sure that there was a story there, but he certainly hadn’t heard it yet.

“Any other old injuries?” Eddie asked instead.

“Nothing from before death that impacted the bone,” replied Buck, “but there is this.”

He lifted up the skull again and turned it slightly so that Eddie could see the mark on it that he’d noticed before. Taking a step closer, Eddie could tell now that it wasn’t a mark but rather a small depression in the bone. It was a rounded oval shape and the bone inside the depression had several cracks in it.

“Blunt force trauma,” Buck explained, “based on the size and shape it could have been done with a hammer or something similar. As you can see, the force was strong enough to crush the ectocranial surface into the diploe. We’re working on getting some time scheduled in the CT machine at the coroner’s office. I want to scan it and see whether the trauma impacted the endocranial surface as well.” Buck seemed to be able to tell that once again Eddie was confused because he then clarified. “I need to see if it was only the outer part of the bone that was injured or if it’s possible that it went through to the inner part and possibly impacted her brain as well.”

“Even if nothing necessarily physically went into her brain, a strike like this could still have caused her death. Yes,” Eddie held up a hand to stop the protest he could sense coming, “I remember that you can’t determine the cause. My guess is that I should ask Hen or Chimney about that.”

“Give the man a prize,” confirmed Buck, “He’s learning.”

“It happens sometimes,” conceded Eddie with a chuckle, “Okay, so what about all that?”

When Eddie gestured towards the smaller tray that was on the lab table, the smile slid off of Buck’s face. It looked like there were more bones on that tray, but they looked nothing like any of the bones he had learned about in his medic training.

“These were found with the remains, completely contained within the fabric of the shirt,” Buck explained, “remarkably complete considering how much the water moves.”

With that context, it was pretty clear to Eddie what he was looking at. He felt his heart sink.

“Oh,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Buck confirmed grimly, “our Jane Doe was pregnant. I would estimate five months along based on the length of the fetal femoral shaft.”

“She would have been showing by then.” Eddie tried for only a moment not to let the contempt fill his tone, but then he figured why not, “Whoever did this probably would have known.”

It was a speculation, but a logical one. Eddie felt the anger boiling up inside his chest. He couldn’t wait to bring the person responsible for this to justice.

“I’m going to send a sample for DNA analysis,” Buck was saying, unaware of Eddie’s turbulent inner thoughts, “probably a metatarsal, they’re good for it especially when they’re whole like this.”

“How much time does that take?” Eddie asked, tamping down on his fury.

Buck scoffed, “Longer than you’d like, I bet. We don’t have DNA analysis in-house yet, Bobby’s working on it. The police lab we usually work with doesn’t really know how to deal with bones, so we have to send it to the medical examiner’s office. They always put our cases on the bottom of their priority list. I think they resent the One Eighteen over there.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re just jealous that we can do their job faster and better than them”

Fast as they might be, there was still a fair bit of waiting to do. Eddie got the official anthropological report and then instead of letting the computer do it, he started combing through missing persons reports by hand in an attempt to find a match. The problem was that because of the involvement of the lake water, Buck couldn't really give an exact estimate of when their victim died–there wasn’t enough research on decomposition in water, he had explained, particularly after the body reached full skeletonization. Los Angeles was a big city, but it was still rather distressing just how little focusing on women in their 20s actually narrowed down the lists he was working with. He didn’t want to put pregnancy as another parameter because there was a chance that whoever had reported her missing hadn’t known about it. Ultimately it left him with a depressingly long list of NamUs entries to go through. That was what Eddie found himself doing when his work phone rang. There weren’t a lot of people who had the number yet, so Eddie was mildly embarrassed by how he scrambled to answer it.

“Go for Diaz,” he said, then winced at himself for how ridiculous he sounded. A wince that turned into an embarrassed blush when he heard Buck’s deep chuckle in response to it.

“Is that how you always answer your phone?” Buck asked with amusement.

“I’m assuming you called for a reason,” Eddie said instead of replying, “and not just to hear my voice.”

“Is that not reason enough?”

Okay, Eddie definitely hadn’t been imagining things before, Buck was flirting with him and Eddie kind of liked it. More than kind of.

“But yeah,” Buck continued, “we got results from the DNA tests.”

“Seems to be that a call about DNA results might be of a job for the head of the institute rather than the forensic anthropologist.” Eddie grinned and leaned back in his chair as Buck stuttered out some kind of half-assed explanation. “You did just want to hear my voice, didn’t you? I must say I’m flattered, Dr Buckley.”

“Don’t take courtesy as flattery, Agent Diaz,” Buck shot back, his warm tone revealing his lack of true annoyance, “Just for that, you’ll have to come here yourself to get your results.”

“What a hardship,” Eddie drawled, “Getting to see you again and a chance to sample more of Bobby’s cooking? How will I ever survive.”

“Now who’s the flatterer?”

“That depends,” Eddie grinned, “is it working?”

He took Buck’s slightly hysterical giggle as a positive response.

So later that same day, Eddie found himself once again entering the One Eighteen building. The security guard already recognized him and opened the door without complaint. The offices were empty and the door to the anthropology lab was closed, which indicated that it would also be empty, so Eddie made his way to what was arguably the heart of the whole place–the kitchen. Eddie had, of course, seen the place on the first day he’d been at the institute, but it had been a mere pit stop on their way to the scene. Even that small taste of Bobby’s cooking had made him a bit desperate for more.

Neither he nor Shannon were the best of cooks, although she had been above his capability so together the two of them had made do. But with his current bachelor lifestyle he didn’t really get homemade meals all that often, except for joint dinners he shared with Shannon, Paul, and Christopher every two weeks when the boy moved between the two homes. It was his own fault, really. He knew that Abuela would be more than happy to provide him with weeks-worth of meals at a time if he let her.

Even with his small glimpse, Eddie had been surprised to see that the One Eighteen cafeteria, which was up on the second floor and had apparently once been an open loft area that looked down into the bay where firetrucks had once parked, was set up more like a fully decked-out home kitchen as opposed to something like the impersonal dining hall he’d had at basic training or at Quantico. There was a huge fridge with an equally large freezer and a double sink, an extra large gas stove and two ovens stacked on top of each other. The counter space was plentiful and there was a large dining table accompanied by an eclectic set of mismatched chairs. There was also a small sitting area with a comfy couch, two armchairs, a coffee table, and a decently-sized television.

Everyone was in the common area when Eddie entered. The air was filled with an absolutely mouth-watering scent and Eddie’s stomach grumbled immediately. Hen and Chimney were sitting at the dining table involved in what seemed like an extremely serious game of cards, which on closer inspection was actually a set of kids go fish cards complete with cartoon drawings of various sea life. Even with their limited number of meetings to date, Eddie could already easily recognize the broad expanse of Buck’s back and shoulders where he stood stirring something on the stove. Bobby was leaning against the counter beside, facing Buck and overseeing him intently. It was Athena who noticed him first as she was standing at the island and facing the door, putting together a chopped salad.

“Special Agent Eddie Diaz,” she greeted, her voice easily floating above the murmuring of the other conversations in the room.

“Sergeant Athena Grant,” he responded in kind, feeling pleased when it drew a light laugh from her.

“Hey Eddie,” Chimney said. Eddie very deliberately did not mention Hen sneaking a peek at his cards when he was turned away. “Another case already?”

“Ah, no. A little birdie told me we have some DNA results,” Eddie replied, sticking his hands in his pockets and wandering closer.

“Is that so?” Bobby mused, raising an eyebrow at Buck, whose ears and back of his neck flushed pink, “Funny, that was on my to do list for this afternoon.”

Buck started to turn away from the stove. “Bobby, I–”

“Stir,” commanded Bobby, pointing a finger sternly, “don’t stop. Remember that you’re the one who insisted on making risotto today.”

“And now we know why,” Hen murmured under her breath but still loud enough that Eddie heard it.

Eddie chose to ignore that and the implications behind it. “I don’t want to intrude or anything,” he hedged, rocking back on his heels.

“Not at all,” Bobby assured him, “you’re welcome any time. It’ll make working together a whole lot easier if we can all get along. We know that from experience.”

He smiled over at Athena, who shook her head fondly. Eddie felt a warmth in his chest. After such a short time of knowing them, he was happy to get the impression that they all wanted to keep working with him.

“Have a seat,” continued Bobby, “food will be ready shortly.”

Hen and Chimney had apparently decided that he was far more interesting than their heated game of go fish because they both turned to Eddie with scarily matching grins on their faces.

“So, Eddie,” Chim steep[led his fingers on the table in front of him, “what are your intentions with our Buck?”

“What he means,” Hen said, ignoring the embarrassed noise Buck let out, “is tell us about yourself.”

“Uh, what do you want to know?”

That was how Eddie found himself the subject of a very friendly interrogation. Over the course of the extremely delicious lunch Eddie also learned about the other members of the One Eighteen. He learned that Hen’s wife was a literal rocket scientist and that their son Denny was Christopher’s age. He learned that Chimney’s girlfriend had recently broken up with him. He learned that Athena’s divorce from her ex-husband Michael had been following his later-in-life coming out, something that Eddie of course felt a close kinship with him about. If there was one thing Eddie missed from his time in the army–and there really was only the one thing–it was the team camaraderie. A camaraderie that Eddie imagined he might feel again given a little bit of time.

Once lunch was done, Chimney stayed behind to clean up while Hen headed to the autopsy suite and Athena left to return to her patrol. Eddie was sure that Buck had his own work to do, but still the forensic anthropologist stayed in step with Eddie as he followed Bobby to the director’s office to go over the DNA results.

“So where’s your probie today?” Eddie asked.

“Probie?” Buck repeated with a frown as Bobby huffed a small sound of amusement from in front of them.

“Short for probationary,” supplied Eddie.

Buck frowned for a moment longer before realization hit him. “Oh! You mean Ravi. Probie.” He chuckled, “I like that. His other PhD supervisor at UCLA likes getting his updates in person, so once a month Ravi abandons me for that sordid university life.”

“Ravi has never done a sordid thing in his life,” Bobby commented mildly.

“You say that, but you’ve never been out with us to any of the bars in WeHo,” Buck told him, “He may look like an angel, but believe me Ravi is just as depraved as the next person.”

“And that’s just one more reason to add to the list of why I won’t ever be joining you at any bars in WeHo,” sighed Bobby with badly-hidden amusement.

“What about you, Eddie?” Buck asked.

“Buck,” Bobby warned.

Eddie rushed to explain even as he felt his cheeks flush. “It’s fine. I’m, uh, well…I haven’t been there. Yet.”

Smooth, Diaz. Not awkward at all. To his extreme joy they then reached Bobby’s office and he could attempt to slip out of Hot Mess territory and into professionalism.

“So do we know who our victim is?” Eddie asked after they had settled into their seats.

“No,” answered Bobby.

“DNA results but no ID on the victim,” reiterated Eddie, “Right. No, sorry, I’m confused. What?”

Bobby leaned back comfortably in his chair. “The thing with DNA is that it isn't magic, the computer won’t just tell you the person is out of thin air. There needs to be a source of comparison. When we send in samples, the DNA profile is compared to those that are on file in the system. There are a number of them. Criminal, for example. Some military and law enforcement, depending on the state. You guys at any of the federal offices.”

Eddie did vaguely remember that from his onboarding, he had to take a swab to the inside of his cheeks. The same as when he’d signed up to be an organ donor.

“I see,” he murmured.

“It’s the same with fingerprints,” added Bobby, “If someone hasn’t had to be fingerprinted…

“You wouldn’t know if it was them lying on a table downstairs,” Eddie finished.

“The biological profile I build can help,” Buck said with a shrug, “but you still need some kind of comparison.”

“So we don’t know the identity of the remains yet,” prompted Eddie, “but what do we know?”

“I actually ended up sending a few samples for the DNA lab to work with,” Buck began, “A tooth and a metatarsal from the mom, but I also sent them something from the juvenile.”

It was a weirdly stilted way to refer to the child whose life had been cut short before it could begin. Although Eddie supposed it was probably the most professional in terms of terminology.

“In the simplest terms,” Bobby said, “we got half a match.”

“The father,” realized Eddie, “he was in the system. That means…”

“A former police officer,” revealed Bobby, “who rose to the rank of captain before turning to law and politics. It’s Alan Bethlehem, the Deputy Mayor of LA.”

“Whose wife is definitely not in her 20s, like our decedent,” Eddie added grimly, “and who is definitely still alive and well. She’s former military, there’s a fundraiser for the local VA mental health facilities that she’s running this weekend.”

The wheels were already turning in Eddie’s head on how to use that to his advantage. As a veteran himself, he’d been automatically added to the VA’s mailing list and hadn’t ever bothered to figure out how to take himself off of it, so he had an open invitation to the fundraising gala sitting in his inbox. Eddie hadn’t been planning on going, he didn’t really have a reason. But now, he thought, maybe he’d pay a little visit.

It was a minor struggle to fit into his dress blues. His training at Quantico had helped him fill out a bit more, his shoulders and chest broader than they had been when he was in the army. It was a tight fit, breathing might not be the most comfortable, but he made it work. There was an incredible turnout for the fundraising gala, a sea of dress uniforms from various military branches, civilians in suits and dresses, some high level people Eddie recognized and many more that he didn’t. He mingled. Small talk had never really been Eddie’s strong suit, but he did his best now, slightly easier than normal considering that he actually had things in common with the vast majority of people here. Eventually, as Eddie was briefly catching up with Carla, the VA social worker he had been connected with when he first moved to LA who had helped him find his PTSD therapist Frank, the regular sound of conversation was tinged with a hushed murmur of excitement–the Deputy Mayor and his wife had arrived. Eddie wasn’t exactly brass and he wasn't technically here officially from the FBI, so it took some time before he was able to even get close to Deputy Mayor and Lieutenant Colonel Bethlehem.

“Thank you,” Eddie said when he got his chance to speak to the Lieutenant Colonel, giving her a sharp salute, “for all the good work you do for the VA here. I’ve definitely benefited.”

“Well, good.” She had a warm voice and kind eyes. Eddie thought about the woman whose remains they had found, of the child belonging to Alan Bethlehem, and wondered if she knew.

“I know that I wish there had been better resources when I needed them,” Katherine Bethlehem continued, “The mental health of our military veterans is of paramount importance.”

“I completely agree,” Eddie replied, although his focus had been pulled elsewhere, “Is your husband alright? Just…I was a medic and he’s looking a little unsteady there.”

Deputy Mayor Bethlehem looked peaked and he was speaking in hushed tones to the, frankly, harried young man at his side who was typing rather frantically into his phone.

“Just a little stressed,” the Lieutenant Colonel assured, “Alan’s previous PA left very suddenly, oh, nearly two years ago now, and he never really found someone to replace her. He’s hardly kept a PA for more than a few months since then.”

“Oh yeah?” Edid did his best to keep his interest level mild, “That does sound stressful. Why did she leave? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eddie wondered briefly if he needed to tell her that he was with the FBI. But this wasn’t an interrogation or any sort of professional questioning, just a friendly conversation. He wouldn't push if she decided not to answer.

Katherine Bethlehem sighed, still watching her husband. “We actually don’t know. She didn’t put in her notice or anything, she just didn’t show up one day. She doesn’t really have any family around, her emergency contact is her boyfriend who said that she’d broken up with him.”

“Your husband didn’t try to get in contact with her?”

“We both did, but her phone number was disconnected and her apartment was rented out to someone else.” Katherine shook her head sadly. “She’s such a sweet girl, I just hope she’s okay.”

Considering what he knew about the pregnancy, it would have been very easy to immediately assign the guilt to the Deputy Mayor or the Lieutenant Colonel, but something told Eddie that that wasn’t right. It was just a gut feeling with no real basis to it, but his experience in life had taught Eddie to trust his instincts to a certain degree. Besides, nothing said that he couldn't talk to them in a more professional capacity at a later date. First, he had to find out if it was really this missing PA spread out on Buck’s lab table.

“What’s her name?”

It was one thing to hear about the young age of the victim but another thing entirely to see it in front of him. Cleo Louise Ellen had an active social media presence that suddenly stopped two years previously. Her death was sad. The fact that nobody seemed to have noticed was even sadder. She didn’t even have an entry on NamUS.

It wasn’t enough to say that Cleo could match the profile Buck had put together, identification and the confirmation of it required something more. When he’s texted Buck–his personal number received from an amused and oddly obliging Athena Grant–to ask about the possibility of facial reconstruction from the skull like the kind he had seen on National Geographic of Neanderthals and the like, Eddie had received three texts and two voice notes of increasing length ranting about how facial reconstruction was “an art, not a science, Eddie, completely made up and based on too many assumptions, don’t believe everything you see, geeze.” It was a little ridiculous and a lot endearing just how passionate Buck got about every topic relating to his field of work. It did ultimately lead to him telling Eddie how exactly they could potentially identify the remains.

Which was why he found himself once again making his way to the One Eighteen, this time with a couple of computer discs in hand. Could he have sent over the relevant files digitally? Possibly. Could he have sent the discs over using a courier? Definitely. He definitely didn’t have any other motive behind his hand delivery other than a desire to be sure that the discs arrived as soon as possible. Anyway. There was something a little odd about meeting Buck in the little office he shared with Ravi as opposed to in the anthropology lab. It wasn’t that Buck didn’t seem comfortable there, he just had so much energy that it didn’t lend itself to being constrained to an office chair.

“Eddie, hey!” Buck greeted cheerfully.

“Hey, I come bearing gifts,” announced Eddie, holding up the discs, “Hi Ravi.”

The younger man briefly looked up from his computer to raise a hand in greeting before he returned to his steady typing.

“Alright then,” Eddie huffed with amusement, “Busy bee, eh Probie?”

That got Eddie a thumbs up, still silent.

“Don’t mind him, he forgot about a deadline and I am graciously allowing him to use his work hours to get it done,” explained Buck, “PhD things. Gifts?”

Eddie chuckled and handed over the two discs. “Dental records including a full set of x-rays and medical records, whatever could be scrounged up related to any and all health insurance claims. I’m not sure what all is on there, I didn’t look.”

“Do you want to see?”

It was fascinating to watch Buck work, but Eddie already knew that from their previous interactions, but this was something else entirely.The CT scans of the bones were manipulated and moved and virtually altered to show whatever it was Buck was looking for. The medical records ended up being a mishmash of different exams and scans. Eddie wasn’t sure exactly how it would be helpful, even after the brief explanation he’d gotten over the phone, but Buck seemed thrilled. He was able to see things on the images that Eddie simply could not, like he was using some kind of anthropology magic.

“There!” Buck exclaimed after about an hour of mouse clicking and staring intently at his computer screen, “I’ll write up an official document to add to my report, but we have a match!”

Eddie, who had been sinking further into his seat as time passed, sat up in his chair with interest.

“Tell me,” Eddie requested.

“How much do you want to know?”

Eddie leaned forward, “Everything.”

Buck grinned like he had won the lottery and Eddie had the feeling that he had just passed some kind of test.

“Okay, let’s get into it. First of all, our assumed identify–”

“Cleo Louise Ellen,” Eddie interrupted. It was important to him to remember the name, to continue to make the human connection. Buck looked taken aback for a moment before he nodded in recognition.

“Right,” he said, “Cleo had perfect teeth. No fillings, no root canals, no crowns, no braces. Which was great for her, I’m sure, but it means we can’t do anything with her antemortem dental records. That’s before death, by the way, antemortem. There is, of course, the break in her tibia. We have a few x-rays from Cleo’s medical records that show the break in the same place that we see them in the remains. Here.”

Buck pulled up a series of x-ray images side by side on his computer screen, pointing to them as he explained.

“This one is her intake x-ray from right after the break occurred. Based on what’s written in her file, she was playing baseball and had a bad fall tripping over a baseman trying to get her out.”

“You said she had something in her arms that showed regular physical activity.”

Buck seemed surprised that Eddie had remembered. “Muscle markings on her humerus, yes.”

“Baseball could explain it,” Eddie offered.

“It could,” agreed Buck, “for sure. So a fall while playing baseball resulted in a broken tibia. Here is the most recent x-ray we have of Cleo’s. It’s from March two years ago, the tenth of the month.”

“That’s only two weeks before she suddenly stopped posting on her social media. The first time in nearly five years that she didn’t put up at least one picture on Instagram every day.”

“Oh,” Buck murmured, he seemed to be a bit struck by that information.

“What?” asked Eddie curiously.

Buck shook his head. “Nothing, I just, uh, I didn’t realize you knew the exact date. Everything I do is always so estimated, it’s weird to know something so exact.” He cleared his throat, “Anyway, I guess that does explain things. What’s the difference here?”

He pointed to two of the images. Eddie glanced between them, his eyes sweeping over the bold white lines of the x-rayed bone.

“I don’t see a difference,” Eddie admitted.

“That’s because there isn’t one,” said Buck, returning to his previous level of enthusiasm, “This one on the left, that’s the hospital scan, antemortem. This one on the right, that’s ours, postmortem. Not only is the bone in the same healing stage, the same callus index, the level of development of the new cortical bone is the same. The way the break is ever so slightly misaligned is exactly the same. Temporally, in the sense of bone healing time, these two images were taken so closely together that there is no difference between them.”

“So that's it, then?” Eddie asked, “That’s our positive ID?”

“I’ve got something even better,” said Buck, “Cleo was diagnosed with chronic migraines, which means she got a couple of brain scans.”

He clicked around on his computer again and pulled up another two nearly identical images. They were both of a skull from the front, also in those sketchy grayscale lines of an x-ray. In one the image of the whole skull was visible as well as the top part of the spine. In the other it was just the skull, sans lower jaw, the image just a little bit clearer. Eddie could guess why the difference between the two images existed.

“This here,” Buck explained, indicating the oddly-shaped dark area above the eye sockets, “this is the frontal sinus. Only about 4% of the population doesn’t have a frontal sinus and for those who do it is completely unique for each person. Unilateral or bilateral, small or large, the shape–for every person the frontal sinus is individual. Antemortem,” he indicated the left image, “Postmortem.” He indicated the right image. Even Eddie could see that it was a perfect match.

“So it’s definitely her,” Eddie breathed out, a sense of relief washing over him, “Amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

Buck’s ears and cheeks turned pink. “Just…doing my job.”

“Still,” Eddie grinned and clapped Buck on the shoulder, “great work.”

“There is one other thing,” Buck said, “I don’t really know much about this but…so you know how I estimated that she was about five months along? I’m assuming that by then she would have been to the doctor at least a few times, right?”

Eddie thought back to when Shannon had been pregnant with Christopher. He’d been in basic training for a good chunk of it, but he had managed to stay updated and even gone to a prenatal appointment or three.

“Yeah,” Eddie confirmed, “she’d probably even know the sex by then.”

Buck frowned, “Hmm, okay, well I looked through her entire medical file and other than regular gynecological check-ups, she doesn’t have any records related to an obstetrician or anything at all about her pregnancy.”

That…was certainly odd. There were a couple potential explanations for the lack of records, but no way of really knowing which one was true. It was possible that Cleo had been keeping the pregnancy secret and was seeing someone privately or off the record or whatever. The other option was that she hadn’t even known about the pregnancy at all. Eddie wasn’t sure which was more likely.

“So what now?” Buck asked and Eddie realized that he’d been quiet for too long.

“Now,” Eddie said slowly as he gathered his thoughts, “I put in a request to access Cleo’s social media account. In the meantime I talk to the exes–boyfriend and boss. Can you send me an official confirmation of identity as soon as possible? I’ll need that to keep investigating.”

“On it,” assured Buck, already clicking through his computer folders to pull up the correct forms and templates, “I just need to get a second set of eyes to check and agree before Bobby will officially sign off on it. Give me a few hours.”

Everything always took much longer than TV shows made it seem. Eddie knew that, of course, but it was still frustrating. It took a week to get everything sorted out to officially and legally declare Cleo Louise Ellen as deceased and for the police to make every effort possible to find any blood relatives. There were none. Cleo had been the only child of two only children, no extended family to speak of, parents and both sets of grandparents long gone. Her emergency contact when she died–was killed–had been a man named Ronnie Myers, listed on her publicly-available Facebook profile as her boyfriend. Even the most basic check of Ronnie’s profile showed that he was now seeing someone else and it was relatively new, only six months old.

Ronnie Myers lived over in Boyle Heights and shared a modestly-priced two-bedroom apartment with a roommate. He was 27 and worked two different regular jobs with a smattering of background actor gigs in various movies and television shows. It all sounded very stereotypically LA to Eddie. When he pulled up to park in front of the apartment building, Eddie was pleasantly surprised to see a particular police car waiting for him.

“Athena,” greeted Eddie, spinning his car keys around his finger a couple times before tucking them into his pocket, “What a surprise. I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Detective Ransone wasn’t available, so he sent me to accompany you instead. Problem?” Athena asked, raising an eyebrow, her thumbs tucked into her belt loops.

Eddie shook his head. “Of course not. But if I had known, we could have carpooled.”

Athena smirked. “How environmentally conscious of you.”

“Oh, not at all, I just hate driving in this city.”

Athena had been briefed on the case by Ransone, so the two of them quickly went over a questioning strategy on the elevator ride up to the fourth floor. When they arrived at the apartment door, Eddie felt a sudden wave of nerves. He’d been in countless stressful situations, some of them even life threatening, but this was his first investigation and he was taking point. Eddie had no illusions, he was fairly certain that if he had more experience the LAPD would have been fine with him doing the questioning on his own. Athena with her years of experience was here in part as his babysitter.

“Hey, Diaz,” Athena said, his last name sounding more like a term of endearment than anything else when said in her soothing, motherly tone. She placed a hand on his arm so that he would look at her. There was nothing but kindness in her eyes. “You’ve got this.”

She really had no way of knowing that, but it still filled him with a sense of relief and confidence. With one final pat, she removed her hand from his arm. Eddie took his badge out of his pocket and squared his shoulders before knocking on the door. It opened after a few moments.

“Yeah?”

“Ronnie Myers?” Eddie asked, even though he already recognized the guy from his Facebook page. He held his ID up at eye level, “Special Agent Eddie Diaz and this is Sergeant Athena Grant. Do you have a few minutes?”

Ronnie’s eyes darted between them, but it seemed to be the normal level of insecurity that would come from law enforcement knocking on your door as opposed to some kind of guilt.

“S-sure, have I…am I…?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Athena assured him, “we just want to talk.”

“It’s about Cleo Louise Ellen,” added Eddie.

Ronnie’s eyes went wide. “Cleo,” he breathed, “it’s been years, I tried to reach out but…is she okay?”

Eddie and Athena exchanged a glance.

“Can we come in?” asked Eddie.

“Oh, god, yeah of course, uh, yes.”

The apartment was distinctly lived in. Certainly not as messy as it could have been with two twenty-somethings living there, but it wasn’t exactly going to win any awards for cleanliness. Eddie and Athena both refused Ronnie’s offer for a cup of coffee and sat themselves on the couch. Their host perched on the edge of the armchair. Eddie studied his body language as closely as he could without making the guy uncomfortable. He was concerned, of course, and stressed, but didn’t appear shifty.

“Can you tell us about your relationship to Cleo Louise Ellen?” Eddie requested, once he had set up his hand-held voice recorder on the coffee table between them.

Ronnie took a deep breath, his fingers tangled together on his lap.

“I was working at the bar where she came to celebrate her 21st birthday. She came in with some friends from high school, I think. Being a bartender…flirting is part of the job, you know? But with Cleo it was different. She kept coming back and then we were friends and then when she came in to celebrate getting her PA position with Alan Bethlehem…I don’t know, she was so nice and so pretty, I asked her out and she said yes. We dated f-for, um, almost a year. I was going to introduce her to my parents, maybe ask her to move in with me, we were getting serious.”

Ronnie let out a sigh.

“Then all of a sudden she broke up with me, but she wouldn’t tell me why. I couldn’t even get her to tell me if I’d done something wrong. I didn’t push her, though, I gave her a bit of space and then I tried calling her. First it would ring and then disconnect like she was rejecting my call. When it started going directly to voicemail, I figured that she’d blocked me so I stopped trying. It’s been a couple years since I last saw her, is she okay?”

The guy seemed to be telling the truth, his eyes wide and pain-filled and honest.

“Did you notice her acting strangely before she broke up with you?” Eddie asked.

“She was on her phone a lot more than usual,” admitted Ronnie, “but I figured it was work stuff, her boss had just become the Deputy Mayor, she was busy. I never asked to look at her messages or anything like that, I trusted her. I knew that if it was something important she would tell me. Please,” he started to sound a bit desperate, “is she okay? I don’t…I don’t want anything from her, not even answers or whatever, but I still care.”

Eddie let out a sigh through his nose. He figured that this part would never get easier regardless of how many times he had to say it.

“I’m really sorry, Ronnie,” Eddie said gently, “Her remains were found a week or so ago. It appears that she died not too long after you last saw her.”

“Oh,” whispered Ronnie, as his eyes grew glassy.

“Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Cleo?” asked Athena, “Anybody she’d recently had an argument with or some other trouble?”

“I don’t think so,” Ronnie answered in a shaky voice, “Not that I know of. Everyone likes Cleo. She is…was always friendly.”

It was more of an instinct than anything else, but Eddie was fairly certain Ronnie hadn’t done anything. After a few more questions about Cleo and her habits, Eddie turned off his voice recorder so he and Athena could prepare to leave.

“Thanks for your time,” said Eddie gently, “And again, I’m sorry for your loss. If you think of anything that could help, feel free to reach out.”

He gave Ronnie his card on the way to the door. Just as they reached it, the door was opened by another twenty-something guy, who paused when he saw them.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Ronnie told his roommate, “they were just asking about Cleo.”

The roommate nodded. “Oh, uh, okay. Excuse me.”

He squeezed past Eddie and Athena and disappeared into the apartment. With a final nod to Ronnie Myers, they were out the door. Eddie was running over what they had learned in his head when Athena spoke up.

“You didn’t tell him about the baby.”

It was difficult for him to tell from the tone of her voice whether she approved or not.

“I didn’t,” agreed Eddie warily, “he doesn’t know anything. Cleo’s death was as much of a surprise to him as it was to us. He didn’t mention anything about a baby. What good would it do to tell him that his ex was five months pregnant with another man’s child when she died.”

Athena hummed, an assessing sort of noise. The elevator shuddered to a halt and the doors slid open to allow them off.

“You don’t agree with my decision?” Eddie prompted.

Athena considered. “I think it was a very kind decision.”

“But you don’t agree,” Eddie reiterated without even a hint of malice. He grinned when Athena simply gave him a look.

“And if it turns out that he was involved?” she asked, “What then?”

Eddie shrugged. “Then I guess we might at the very least have his motive. At this point I’m a little bit more concerned about having to accuse the Deputy Mayor of LA of murder.”

Eddie had been a bit overly dramatic in his statement of their next steps. They wouldn’t be accusing anybody of anything yet, not without more details and some solid proof. They were still waiting to get access to Cleo’s social media accounts in order to go through her private messages, but until then they had to follow every possible lead. With the boyfriend out of the way, that left the boss, Deputy Mayor Alan Bethlehem. Well, boss and father of her unborn child. In any case, it was nerve-wracking, but he could use the influence of his position to bypass a whole bunch of security measures in order to make a last-minute urgent appointment. This time, Detective Ransone was available so it was he who met Eddie outside the entrance of LA City Hall.

“Special Agent Diaz.”

When Athena called him by his title, it felt like a kind sort of teasing. When Lou Ransone said it, it sounded like he didn’t know if Eddie really deserved to carry the title. His handshake was also assessing and overly firm. Eddie willed himself not to react.

“Detective Ransone,” he said mildly, “glad you could join me this time. Athena filled you in on the interview with the ex-boyfriend?”

“She did,” Ransone confirmed, “and I listened to the recording. There won’t be any way of not mentioning the baby this time around. You know that, right?”

Eddie didn’t particularly like being talked down to like a child, but he resisted the urge to snap back. “Of course. I wasn’t planning on it.”

His tone must have given away his annoyance, because Ransone let out a small groan and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, kid, look I didn’t mean to imply anything,” Ransone sighed, “Athena always says that I get a bit…territorial over my cases, that’s why she’s the liaison and not me. But she did vouch for you, and that’s enough for me.”

“I really don’t mind as long as your comments are constructive,” Eddie admitted, deciding to trade his own honesty in exchange for the truth he had just been given, “I know that it’s my first case and I’m inexperienced. I’m open to learning from anyone, really. I don’t want to step on any toes either.”

While the detective didn’t exactly relax, he did give Eddie a nod of acknowledgement.

“Good. You take point then and I’ll step in if the need arises.”

“Copy that.”

City Hall was not as hectic as Eddie had imagined it to be. Of course, most of his assumptions came from watching shows like The West Wing, so that wasn’t particularly surprising. They were met by the same guy Eddie had seen with the Deputy Mayor at the VA gala. He introduced himself as Zachary and offered them something to drink before directing them to a couple of chairs to wait for Alan Bethlehem to finish his previous meeting.

“You know, I was expecting something a bit…fancier,” Eddie mused.

Ranson let out a small snort of amusement. “An office is an office, regardless of who’s sitting behind the desk.”

“Unless you’re a billionaire. There’s probably more marble and gilding involved then.”

The detective looked at Eddie oddly. “Sure, I suppose so.”

Eddie was saved from having to make any more awkward small talk by the Deputy Mayor’s office door opening. The person who exited looked vaguely familiar and shook Bethlehem’s hand enthusiastically before he left. Alan Bethlehem’s gaze settled on Eddie and Ransone and he offered them a bland politician’s smile.

“Detective, Agent, come in, come in. I hope Zachary offered you a cup of coffee.”

“He did,” Eddie confirmed as they followed him into the office.

It was a relatively small space with a lot of room being taken up by a large, wooden desk. Bethlehem sat behind it, gesturing for the two of them to take the unoccupied guest chairs.

“Are you sure he can’t get you anything?” the Deputy Mayor pressed, “I’ve been really getting into herbal teas lately thanks to my sister-in-law, so we have quite a collection around the office.”

“No thanks, Deputy Mayor Bethlehem,” insisted Eddie. He held up his voice recorder, “Mind if I…”

Bethlehem gestured to his desk. “By all means, and please call me Alan.”

Eddie set up the recorder on the desk and stated the full names of everyone present for the sake of the record.

“We wanted to ask you about your former PA, Cleo Louise Ellen,” began Eddie, “I understand from your wife that her quitting was a huge loss for you.”

The bravado Bethlehem had been showing faltered slightly. “You’ve spoken to Katherine?”

Eddie could feel the burn of Ransone’s eyes on him as he replied. “I attended the VA gala she held earlier this month and we got to talking,” said Eddie, “Nothing official, just friendly conversation.”

Bethlehem gave Eddie another once over. “Right. Thank you for your service, Agent Diaz.”

“Alan, I’m going to be honest with you,” Eddie told him, catching the Deputy Mayor’s gaze with his own, “Human remains that were found several weeks ago have been identified as belonging to Cleo Louise Ellen.”

Bethlehem slumped down in his chair, his eyes searching around the room until they snagged on one of the pictures on the wall. A quick glance showed it to be from when he had been appointed Deputy Mayor. Eddie recognized both Katherine and Cleo, although the former was more central in the picture while the latter half- faded into the background.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush here, Alan,” Eddie continued, drawing the other man’s attention back to him, “When she died, Cleo was pregnant.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he expected the Deputy Mayor’s reaction to be, but he seemed to suddenly be drained of all color. “It was mine, wasn’t it,” he said more than asked, dull and resigned.

“Did you know about the baby?”

Bethlehem shook his head. “No. I mean, I suspected, I have three other kids, I knew the signs. When I tried to talk to her about it, even just to tell her that I would support whatever decision she made about things, she would shut me down. And then when she didn’t show up to work, I thought that I had maybe pushed it too much.”

Eddie and Ransone exchanged a glance, which Bethlehem easily caught.

“We weren’t having an affair,” he said, “I know how it sounds, but it was a one-time thing and Katherone knew about it before it happened.”

“Did Cleo’s boyfriend know?” Eddie asked.

“She said that he did,” confirmed Bethlehem, “I didn’t ask for a signed permission slip or anything. And it didn’t impact our working relationship at all. Cleo was great like that, she knew my schedule better than I did myself. She and Katherine used to joke all the time about how I would never get anywhere on time if it wasn’t for Cleo.”

Eddie saw Ransone make a note in his notepad and assumed that they were probably thinking the same thing. Ronnie hadn’t mentioned anything about an affair or even a “one-time thing” as Bethlehem had described it. It put the suspicion back on him, regardless of what Eddie’s instincts might have been indicating.

“Do you know what happened to her, to Cleo?” Bethlehem asked, “She was getting ready to apply to law school, I wrote her a recommendation letter and everything…” He seemed shell-shocked and Eddie couldn't really blame him for that.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Eddie assured, “Was there anyone she had been arguing with before she disappeared? Any behavior out of the ordinary?”

“She was always on her phone a lot,” Bethlehem said, “it comes with the job, but sometimes I would catch her making these faces at her phone.”

“Faces?” Ransone repeated incredulously.

Alan Bethlehem sighed. “I know it sounds like nothing, but it wasn’t the way she usually looked at her phone. She seemed almost…scared? I never brought it up with her. I wish now that I had.”

“What do you know about Ronnie?” asked Ransone, “Cleo’s boyfriend.”

Ronnie had also mentioned her phone habits, which meant that there was starting to be some kind of pattern. Eddie still didn’t think that the boyfriend did it, but he allowed Ransone to do his due diligence. Even if Bethlehem had nothing but kind words to say about Ronnie.

“Alright, Deputy Mayor Bethlehem, we’ll get out of your hair,” Ransone said when they had wrapped up as Eddie was collecting his recorder, “You let us know if you or your wife think of anything else.”

“Your PA has our info,” added Eddie. He actually wasn’t feeling all that bad about Ransone taking over the second half of their questioning. He was even more convinced that they’d find their answer in Cleo’s social media, once they had access to it.

“Not too bad in there, Diaz,” commented Ransone as they prepared to part ways, “we may make a decent investigator out of you yet.”

Eddie laughed, “Thanks, I think. I’ll send you the recording for the files. We’re just waiting on digital forensics to get access to Cleo’s accounts.”

“Let me know if you find anything worth checking into,” said Ransone.

“What, you don’t want to help me trawl through years of posts and messages?” Eddie joked.

Ransone barked out a laugh. “Not on your life. You may be heading up this investigation, but you’re still green. And that sounds like probie work to me.”

“Fair,” replied Eddie with a grin, “Tell Athena I said hi.”

“If you spend any time over at the One Eighteen, you’ll probably see her before I do.”

“You know, out of all the people in the public eye, I never would have guessed that the deputy mayor of LA would be polyamorous.”

Eddie was back at the One Eighteen, hanging out in the anthropology lab. He didn’t actually have any reason to be there, it just felt like the thing to do. He was far enough away to make sure he didn’t get his DNA all over the skeleton Buck was currently handling, perched on a tall lab chair. Eddie had raised the seat as high as it would go and now only the balls of his feet were actually touching the floor.

“I don’t think it was exactly polyamory,” Eddie said contemplatively, “he said a one-time thing.”

“Okay, so a consensual threesome,” amended Buck with a shrug, turning the foot bone he was holding around in order to see it from a different angle. The forensic anthropologist consulted a book he had open on the lab table, turned the bone again, and then placed it definitively alongside the other bones from the left foot. “The point still stands.”

“Sounds to me like you’re judging people based on appearances,” Eddie tutted disapprovingly, “Not cool, Dr Buckley.”

“Ass,” Buck shot back.

His tone was fond. They barely even knew each other, how could Buck already be so incredibly fond of him? Instead of thinking about it, Eddie pushed off the floor with his toes to send the swivel chair spinning.

“You’re going to make yourself sick doing that,” said Buck, “take it from experience.”

“You?” Eddie asked, dragging his foot to bring the spinning to a stop.

“Ravi.”

“What did I do?” The young man in question was walking towards them with a tray in his gloved hands.

“Made yourself sick by spinning on the lab chair.”

Ravi let out a groan and frowned at Buck. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

Buck grinned. “Nope. You threw up.”

“But not on the bones,” Ravi pointed out.

“Indeed, a great point of pride for Ravi Panikkar,” intoned Buck as if announcing the Olympics.

Ravi made a show of rolling his eyes, but Eddie thought that he secretly looked pleased. “Where do you want this?” He indicated the tray he was holding. “I dissected out the hyoid and larynx but they still need to be photographed and have x-rays done. I need to head out, though, so I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

“Slacking off, probie?” Eddie asked, “It’s not even lunch time and you’re already flying the coop.”

“I wish I could stay,” Ravi grumbled.

“The siren song of academia awaits,” Buck told him.

“Academia can mind its own business, nobody asked it to sing,” Ravi retorted.

Buck simply shook his head fondly. “Ravi was asked to give a guest lecture on forensic anthropology for some first year medical school students,” he revealed, “Don’t let his whining fool you, he’s actually really excited about it.”

Ravi sighed in defeat, “I am.”

With no additional case-related information to relay and Buck busy with his bones, Eddie said his goodbyes and joined Ravi in his trek out the door. He was a good kid, energetic and obviously just as obsessed with his work as his mentor. Eddie took a slight detour to the kitchen, splitting off from Ravi at the exit to the parking lot, angling to sneak a mid-morning snack. He didn’t expect to find Bobby mixing some sort of sauce or marinade in a glass bowl. Eddie’s steps faltered slightly.

“Oh, uh, hi Bobby.”

For his part, Bobby seemed a bit amused by Eddie's nerves.

“Hey there, Eddie,” he greeted, sprinkling some chili powder into the bowl and continuing to stir, “I didn’t know we were expecting you today.”

Eddie laughed a little nervously, “You weren’t. I mean, I just came to talk to Buck about something. Case related.” He realized suddenly how that might sound, like he was purposefully going behind the back of the head of the institute with important information. “Sort of.”

“I’m glad to know that you guys are getting along alright,” Bobby commented, not seeming offended in the slightest. “Here, come taste this.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how his minimal, basic cooking skills could be helpful for a man who could easily make a career as a chef, but hell if he was going to give up the chance to taste anything the head of the One Eighteen made.

“Definitely,” Eddie replied as he made his way over to the kitchen island, “no problem at all. He’s very knowledgeable and passionate. It’s pretty refreshing to be honest.”

Eddie wasn’t exactly sure how to interpret the look Bobby gave him. There was certainly some amusement there, but also something like relief.

“Some people have found it off-putting, how much of himself and his passion Buck puts into his work.” Bobby dipped a small spoon into the bowl of sauce and handed it to Eddie.

Eddie scoffed. “Not me. Are you kidding? It’s fascinating, is what it is. Plus, it gives me brownie points with my son.” Eddie licked the sauce from the spoon and let out a hum of pleasure, “Now that is a tasty barbeque sauce.”

Bobby looked pleased. “I figured if anyone knew barbeque sauce, it would be a Texan.”

“Nah, I’m from El Paso, we’re West Texas.” Bobby looked confused so Eddie continued, “We do it cowboy style, mesquite and direct heat. Not so much with the sauce or marinade.”

“Good to know,” said Bobby with a smile and a serious nod, “Athena and I like to host a monthly barbeque with the team, you’ll have to come one of these days.”

Eddie let out a low whistle. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with you slightly there, Cap. Barbeque is a food, not an event. What you’re thinking of is a cookout.”

Bobby laughed, but before he could answer, Eddie’s work phone rang.

“Sorry, gotta take this. Agent Diaz.”

“Diaz, it’s Terry from digital.”

Eddie gave Bobby an apologetic glance, but the other man waved it away.

“Have you got some good news for me, Terry?”

“I’ve got you access to Cleo Louse Ellen’s social media accounts. Does that count?”

“That not only counts as good news, it’s great. I’ll be able to access it from my desk?”

“Of course. I’ll email you directions on how to get into the intranet server. You’ll be able to screenshot, highlight, copy-paste, make notes, whatever you like.”

When Eddie finished with his call, Bobby had moved on to some other aspect of the meal he was cooking up.

“Duty calls?” Bobby asked.

“Yup,” replied Eddie, “Any chance you’ve got something I can take to go? I think I have a long afternoon ahead of me.”

Cleo had a lot of social media. She had been most active on Instagram, so that was where Eddie started. Her posts were normal, daily updates with aesthetic food pictures and selfies and crafting projects. She didn’t have an overwhelming number of followers and even fewer direct messages. Tיere was nothing on her personal profile that connected to the Deputy Mayor, although she had been tagged in a few official photographs where she appeared in the background. Eddie made his way through the last year or so of her posts and found no suspicious comments. Most of her DMs were from high school friends, conversations that had petered out long before she had stopped posting. Even the spam messages that waited unanswered and unviewed were tame.

Nothing.

There was a bit of a learning curve when it came to going through her Twitter–X? Eddie had no idea, he had never been on the site before–but once he got the hang of things, it was just as unhelpful. No identifying photographs there, mostly just landscapes and LA landmarks with the occasional post in support of her boss after he had been appointed to his position. Apparently, Alan Bethlehem was very involved in the expansion of the public transit system as well as the affordability of low-income housing. All things considered, Eddue figured he kind of liked the guy. The comments on her posts were also normal, praise for her photography skills, support and derision in equal measure for her political leanings. Her DMs all sat unanswered, she hadn’t appeared to have used them at all.

Nothing.

Finally, the only thing that was left to tackle was Cleo’s Facebook page. It went all the way back to when she was in high school, but like with everything else Eddie focused on the year preceding her disappearance and death. A vast majority of the posts were simply the same as what was on her Instagram, so Eddie guessed that she had them automatically connected. There were a few other posts, birthday wishes to friends, shared events. All normal.

Unlike on her other profiles, it was her private messages that were seriously full up. Of course there were some since her disappearance, but it was the final opened messages that caught Eddie’s attention. The message in and of itself was innocuous, just three simple words:

See you soon.

The sort of message one might send after making plans to meet up or after being told that the person you were meeting with was on their way. So, yeah. Normal. The context, however? So far removed from normal. That message was just the last in a long line of unanswered messages that ranged from banal but probing questions though to downright threats. When he scrolled back up to the beginning of the messaging thread, he could see that it hadn’t always been one-sided. It started as polite, friendly even. There was no obvious indication of how they knew each other, like they had some common connection but hadn’t actually met each other in person.There wasn’t a sudden change in the direction of the conversation, just a slow shift into something more menacing. Cleo stopped replying about five months before she disappeared.

Once Eddie got fully caught up with the messages, he turned to the profile itself. It was very easy to spot a pattern once he knew what to look for. The same profile commenting on and reacting to Cleo’s every post. A thumbs up reaction on some random life update. A hug reaction on a bit of sad news. A heart reaction on every photo. The comments ranged from sweet sincerity for the loss of a treasured item to a string of lewd emojis on a perfectly innocent selfie of Cleo holding a bouquet of flowers underneath her smiling face. Every single post Cleo made in the last year of her life was reacted to and commented on by the same person whose threatening messages sat unanswered in Cleo’s inbox.

Eddie clicked through to the profile and found it frustratingly unhelpful. He and Cleo had several friends in common and while she had reacted to a few of his posts, there was nothing major to be found. Eddie frowned as he clicked through the guy’s photos. Something about his artfully tousled auburn hair and gray eyes struck a chord of familiarity, but Eddie couldn’t figure out why. It was until a few days later after another assist from digital forensics that Eddie finally figured it out.

“So not the boyfriend,” Athena said as Eddie met with her and Ransone at the police precinct.

Eddie couldn't help but feel oddly misplaced in his suit. The LAPD wasn’t the army, but Eddie supposed that he’d always feel that way when surrounded by people in uniform, feeling like he should be among the rank and file, that he shouldn't stand out.

“Not the boyfriend,” Eddie confirmed, “Langdon Bennett.”

“A real piece of work,” added Athena as she glanced through the threatening Facebook messages.

Ransone hummed in agreement, although he didn’t seem to have anything else to add so Eddie soldiered on.

“He was so familiar, but I couldn't figure out why until I saw the address on his driver’s license.”

Athena looked at it and then up at him, understanding and recognition on her face. “The roommate.”

“He got there as we were leaving,” Eddie said, both reminding Athena and filling Ransone in on something that wasn’t part of their official records of the visit since it had occurred after the recorder had been turned off, “definitely made himself scarce pretty quick.”

“Well then,” Ransone said, finally speaking up, “I think it’s time we bring Mr Roommate in for questioning.”

In the end, it was remarkably easy to get Langdon Bennett to cave. He’d been obsessed with Cleo to a dangerous degree and while his murder of her was fueled by some sort of jealousy, one mention of the baby and he’d folded, confessed to everything.

“So it was a crime of passion,” Buck said later that day as he and Eddie sat across from each other at a diner around the corner from The One Eighteen. Buck knew the owners, an older couple named Thomas and Mitchell, and had helped them deal with some problem or another so now they always gave him a discount and a free slice of pie when he came in.

“If you count one-sided infatuation and jealousy ‘passion,’ then I suppose so,” answered Eddie, “Still a crime, though.”

Buck took a huge bite of his burger, as he hummed in agreement, taking the time to carefully chew and swallow before he spoke, “So that’s it then, huh? Case closed and on to your next assignment?”

They hadn’t known each other for very long, but Eddie was good at reading people so it was easy enough for him to hear and understand the undercurrent in Buck’s tone, the question he wasn’t asking.

“I suppose so,” he replied, keeping his focus on his own club sandwich although he could still see Buck’s suddenly moody face out of the corner of his eye. “Although I think you might know before I do. I’m not exactly sure how it works between Bobby and my boss.”

If Buck were a dog, his ears would have perked up. “You mean…you want to keep working with me?”

Eddie looked up at him with a smirk. “And miss out on the chance to seriously impress my son? Not a chance, Skeleton Man.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Buck scoffed, his mouth stretched into a grin that belied his tone, “That’s the only reason.”

“Naturally,” Eddie said. Under the narrow table between them, Buck’s knee bumped against his and then stayed pressed there. Eddie tried his best not to show that touch way it made his heart rate spike. “Definitely no other reason at all.”