A/N: Hi, I know it has been many weeks since I have updated. I have been having some trouble getting the creative juices flowing. This installment is a tag to the latest episode 8x07 The Bod in the Pod. It is about Cam. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.
It had surprised her, when Dr. Brennan had shown her the Farsi poem written on the back of a folder. Dr. Brennan had been near outraged that a Jeffersonian file had been marked with superfluous poetry that did not belong on official documents. But Cam had been intrigued. Arastoo was a very private man. He was also a very focused and dedicated man. It seemed almost out of place that he would write poetry. And yet, doesn't Dr. Brennan write novels? Perhaps it is the pain and suffering of their jobs that enlightens their souls. Perhaps they find a certain truth about human nature in the bones that they read. As someone who shares their work, dealing with death on a daily basis, Cam wondered - she had never found a more poetic side.
Cam walked over to where the intern was busy carefully writing down his observations in one of Dr. Brennan's precious files.
"It has been brought to my attention that you write poetry." Arastoo looked up in surprise that he quickly tried to hide.
"Just some scribbles really." He modestly tried to shrug it off.
"Dr. Brennan told me that it was very good, even if her Farsi is a little rusty." Arastoo stood motionless for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"Thank you?" It came out as a question. He wasn't sure if he was being complimented or not. It was difficult in the Jeffersonian environment to be granted compliments, especially from Dr. Brennan. Cam smiled. In this exchange she noticed something she had never really seen before in Arastoo. Yes, he was a very well mannered man - mature and dedicated. But this new tender, less unsure side was something different.
"I would like to hear some." She said.
"You don't speak Farsi." Arastoo's reply was immediate, like a shy child being asked to perform in front of a room of full of people. Deciding to let him off the hook, Cam smiled.
"That is a good point." She said before walking back to her office.
Her phone was blinking on her desk, alerting her to missed messages. Two missed calls and a text message. All from Paul. The gynecologist. She had not seen him in a long time. In fact, the last time she had seen him, she had told him that it wasn't going to work. And yet he kept calling, and texting. And texting Angela, which made it ten times more mortifying. She ignored her phone and tried to get back to work.
She was thinking, and not about the dead body on her autopsy table. She was thinking about her past relationships, the best ones, the most meaningful ones. At twenty she had met Seeley Booth, he had a big heart and big romantic ideals about love that she gobbled up and held onto until everything unraveled. The next big love was Andrew Weldon. A doctor who loved his daughter more than anything and who appreciated art and poetry. Paul was a great guy, but the spark that she had felt at the beginning had fizzled out. He was dedicated to his work...too dedicated. He had difficulty relating to anything outside his realm of expertise.
And that is when Cam realized: Seeley might not have recited or written poetry, but his ideals on love were poetic in itself. Andrew had a great appreciation for the classic poets, believing that they kept humanity alive. Her work centered around death and destruction, around the depravity of human beings. It is hard to detach, hard to get away from the death that constantly surrounds her.
She needs someone who can show her the beauty that still exists in the world. Someone to remind her that pain and suffering are there only to make the good things feel that much better.
She would like to ask Arastoo to recite some of his poetry.