Booth entered the confessional with Brennan.
"Why are we here?" Bones asked, a slight tinge of annoyance in her voice.
"You keep bothering me about what happens here, so now you'll find out. First hand."
"Fine. What do I do, Booth?"
"Here in a second, the priest, Father James McAllister, will come in and you confess."
"Confess what?"
"Your sins, Bones."
"A sin is an obscure concept to me. You'll have to be more specific than that, Booth."
Holding back a groan, he replied, "Bones, just tell the man stuff you've done wrong."
"How far back should I go? If I confess everything I've done wrong, we'll be here for quite a while."
Booth rolled his eyes and sighed. "Bones--I dunno. In the past forty-eight hours, I guess."
Bones shrugs. "OK, Booth... So... do I ring a doorbell?" She began to inspect the window directly in front of her. The window slid up abruptly, startling her, "Jsus!" Booth smacked his forehead, but chuckling from the inside ensued. "So..." She spoke into the window. "Should I call you Jim? Jimmy?"
"Bones!" Booth whispered sharply.
"What?"
"Call him Father."
"Booth, he isn't my father. My father is in prison. I'm pretty sure that he isn't dressed up in a penguin suit behind that window!"
The man behind the window cleared his throat.
"Priests don't wear penguin suits, Bones. That's nuns... not that nuns wear-- Never mind! Just talk to the man."
"I'm not sure how confessing my-" She made air quotes, "'Sins' will get a Catholic to heaven any faster... at least not to a man. Why not confess to God?"
"Bones... it's a Catholic thing. Some people confess to God, we like to confess to priests."
"That's tactical avoidance."
"Very... psychological of you, Bones."
"Thanks."
"Now talk to the man, Bones. I'm sure he's got stuff to do."
"What? Like light candles and read a magical book?"
"Church, Bones. We're in a church. And magical is very different from spiritual. End of discussion. Now if you don't start confessing, then I'm going to leave you here."
Bones rolled her eyes. "Fine. Jim, what should I say? Should I start with-" She looked at her watch. "6:27PM on Friday?"
"Wherever you wish, my daughter."
"I'm not your daughter. I know who my father is." Then to Booth, she whispered. "What's with the father/daughter thing?"
"Bones!"
"Fine. This might not be verbatim. It's not like I took notes or anything--
"Bones!"
"Fine. At approximately 6:30 I watched a film that might not be considered... I don't know... PG."
"And what kind of film would that be?" The priest asked.
Bones looked up at Booth. "Cover your ears." Booth complied and after a few seconds Bones let him know that it was OK to take his hands from his head.
"The human heart is a very fragile thing, my daughter. Watching those kinds of films could lead you down a very rocky road to the lake of burning fire."
"Is that a metaphor?"
"Yeah, Bones. It means Hell."
"Why doesn't he just say Hell?"
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Bones..."
"No, no. You're right, Booth. I keep bothering you about this. I should just sit through it, right?" She turned her attention back to the window. "Why is this window shaded anyway?"
"Bones, keep your eye on the ball. And yes, that's a metaphor!"
"All right, at approximately... well, I don't know... I say it quite a bit, but I dropped the F Bomb a few times and I often say sh-t as well."
"BONES!"
"What? Booth, I'm pretty sure that Jimmy here appreciates my honesty."
"Father, Bones. Father."
"I'm not comfortable with that kind of informality."
"It's formal, Bones."
"Doesn't sound like it. I had a drink before bedtime. Is that a sin?"
"Depends on who you're talking to, my dear." The voice replied. "In my congregation, however, I try to teach that drunkenness leads to a host of other sins, so it's best to avoid the drink."
"Then I may have had a few drinks. Six, to be honest."
"Six? Geez, Bones. Do you have a headache?"
"I had an aspirin, Booth. Oh... here's another. I wrote a new chapter in my novel last night."
"What novel might that be?" Asked the Father.
"The Bones in the Culvert. It's still in manuscript form. Anyhow, I wrote quite a racy scene between Kathy and Ryan. I'm actually quite proud of it. I wrote just enough fluff, but not too much. I left the reader begging for more... and Kathy. I left her begging for more, too. It was actually one of my best sex scenes, to tell the truth. It was a rainy night and they were caught in their car alongside a deserted road--"
"Is it hot in here? Because I'm feeling hot." Booth tugged on his collar.
"It might be the close quarters, Booth."
"No need for details, my dear."
"Then yesterday, besides the cussing and the writing of seductive scenes in my novel... there was a motorist on my way to work who cut me off. I distinctly remember yelling at him and telling him he had the Intelligence Quotient of an amoeba."
Booth tried to hold back his laughter.
"Those are one celled animals. They possess no mental functions."
"I think he knows that much, Bones."
"You know, after lunch, Booth asked me if he had anything in his teeth and I told him no."
"What? You--Why would you do that?"
"I get very little amusement during the day, Booth. You're my entertainment."
"Thanks, Bones."
"Speaking of entertainment, on my lunch break there was a man sitting across from me and--" She looked up at Booth then back at the window. "I may have undressed him with my eyes."
"Bones!"
"Twice. Thrice. Who's counting? And you, Booth--"
"What? I didn't undress anyone--" He bent down so his face was close to the window. "I didn't undress anyone with my eyes, Father. I swear."
"I may have undressed you with my eyes, too."
"Me?"
"Booth, there may be a line, but I am a woman and I do have feelings and a heart and-- I am the first to admit that I'm sexually stimulated when I look on a man who has a figure such as yours." She was so matter-of-fact that Booth hardly had a second to take in the compliment. "Jim, he splashed some coffee on his shirt and took it off... In front of me. I'm not blind! You are a very attractive man."
"Thanks, Bones." He didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed or embarrassed.
"And I didn't tip our waitress. She was very rude. I think she was undressing Booth, too."
"Was she?"
"Who wouldn't?"
"Good point. That isn't why you didn't tip her, was it?"
"No..." She looked at the confessional window. "Well, maybe. But she was also very slow with our service. It was a twofold situation."
"Anything else, Bones?"
"Bones?" The priest asked.
"It's a nickname, Jim." She caught Booth's eye. "I could call you James if you like."
"Son, do you have something to confess as well?"
"I confessed on Tuesday, Father."
"Mmm-hmmm, mmm-hmm. And do you feel sorry for your sins, daughter?"
"No. Not really."
"Bones!"
"What? Would you like me to feign my remorse? I'm not sorry. Why would I be sorry for having a healthy sexual appetite? Oh, but I do see where you're going with my mouth. I should try to watch it more often..." She looked up at Booth quizzically. "Hey, Booth... would you call what we did last night a sin? It wasn't exactly PG, either. Is that why they call it missionary? Because that's the most approved form of--" Booth pulled her arm and yanked her out of the confessional.
"Thanks Father McAllister. Thank you for letting me know why exactly she should NOT go to church."
"Because what we did last night was not--"
"Let's go, Bones!"
"We should go again next week. This was just so cleansing."
"I don't think so, Bones."