Thank you to all who read and/or reviewed the last chapter. Each and every one was greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: They're not mine and that fact saddens me deeply.

Two

Booth waited while Brennan grabbed her wrap and handbag from the table and then placed his hand in the accustomed place on the small of her back as he led her out of the brilliantly lit ballroom at The Mayflower into the more dimly lit hallway and outside to the parking valet. He handed the teenager his ticket and then stuck his hands in his pockets. He watched Bones as she pulled her black silk wrap closely around her shoulders. It was late April and although the cherry trees had begun to blossom there was a chill in the damp air. The streets and sidewalks shone brightly under the streetlights from the rain that had fallen earlier in the day. He bounced on the balls of his feet eager for the valet to return with the car. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brennan shiver slightly and was about to offer her his tuxedo jacket when the teenage driver pulled the SUV up in front of them with a screeching halt. The kid clambered out and handed the keys to Booth who then went around to the passenger side and opened the door for his partner.

"Booth, you really don't have to open doors for me," she said as she gathered her skirts into one hand and climbed into the black Escalade.

"My father raised me to be a gentleman and gentlemen open doors for ladies. Deal with it," Booth replied and then shut the door.

He jogged around the car and slid into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition almost simultaneously. Flipping the switch that activated the lights and sirens, he pulled smoothly into traffic and sped towards the Lincoln Memorial.

"So much for our night off," he commented wryly.

"You weren't really enjoying yourself that much anyway so it's not like leaving early is a huge sacrifice," Brennan said, her attention focused on the light dancing across the water of the Potomac.

"I was having a good time dancing with you," Booth said quietly, not entirely sure if he wanted his partner to hear him admit that fact.

"I was too," she said, turning her head to give him a soft smile.

Booth was about to open his mouth and suggest they try doing it again some time when Brennan spoke again.

"We're here."

Booth focused and realised that his partner was correct. The short drive had been hastened by his speed and now the structure of the Lincoln Memorial loomed before them. The flashing red and blue lights from an assortment of Park Police and FBI vehicles parked around the monument lent a garish tone to the otherwise peaceful evening. Booth pulled in behind another FBI SUV and quickly got out of the car, running around the front of the vehicle to open the passenger door before Brennan could even undo her seatbelt. They exchanged looks but said nothing. Brennan clambered down, her skirts lifted out of the way, exposing her bare feet in a pair of strappy black stilettos. She paused and surveyed the scene before her.

The large statue of the seated Lincoln was usually lit by several large spotlights, but several more lights on tripods that made the white structure glow warmly now augmented the lighting. The FBI had already set up crime scene tape at the base of the steps and she could see a small crowd of tourists who had ostensibly come to see the Mall at night peering up towards the statue of the former President. She could also see a large group of individuals milling around inside the monument wearing a mixture of FBI jackets and Jeffersonian jumpsuits but was unable to spot where the remains might be. Shrugging, she turned back to the SUV and went to open the back of the vehicle.

"Damn, I forgot," she said after she had done so.

Booth came up beside her, his bow tie already pulled loose and hanging down on either side of his neck.

"Oh yeah, I did too."

The trunk space of the Escalade was almost bare. There was only a pair of bulletproof vests, one machine gun, some latex gloves and a few evidence bags. This contrasted with how the trunk usually appeared when stuffed with everything that the pair required for any case. This aberration was the result of the fact that Booth was about to get a new car. He had been told to clear out his vehicle in preparation and so he and Brennan had taken out all of the paraphernalia that they usually carried with them, including a change of clothes for Booth, a Jeffersonian jumpsuit for Brennan, as well as the forensic kit that usually held all of the tools Brennan would need for a case.

Turning to again survey his partner in her revealing ball gown and flimsy shoes Booth felt his brow crease in worry.

"You want to go to the Jeffersonian and then come back? That outfit isn't really ideal for working a crime scene."

Brennan shook her head, "It's fine. We're here now. Besides, Zack is in charge of the scene. He probably only called me here to consult."

"Ok, you're the boss," Booth said, noting the grin that slid across Bones' face at those words. "For now," he qualified.

She shot him a look and then began to stride quickly towards the crime scene. As he lifted the crime scene tape for her to duck under, he asked softly, "You want my jacket? It's cold tonight."

He received yet another look of exasperation as she replied quickly, "Booth, I've told you before, if I want something..."

"You ask for it," he finished for her. "Just double checking."

She raised an eyebrow at him and then began to climb the stairs upwards toward the gargantuan figure of Lincoln who loomed over her. She couldn't resist letting her eyes rest for a moment on the step where she and Booth had lounged while she had attempted to sober him up before sending him home one evening. A smile graced her face briefly that only Booth saw and recognised as it mirrored the grin on his own face. But then his expression changed to the one he always wore when approaching a crime scene, an intense look of determination.

Zack was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. Before he could speak, Booth called out, "Ok Zack, what's so important that you had us dragged out of the fundraiser?"

"We have a set of remains," the newly-minted anthropologist began but failed to continue. Booth almost laughed at the realisation that he wasn't the only one who could be rendered speechless by his partner's appearance that evening.

Zack swallowed, "Dr. Brennan, I must say that that look really works for you."

Booth rolled his eyes but then caught sight of several other agents inside the monument all eyeing his partner appreciatively. It was like the fundraiser all over again. His list of asses to kick had now doubled. He pursed his lips in displeasure and turned back to Zack. It really had been easier when they hadn't spoken.

"Zack," he prompted sharply, "the remains."

"Oh yes."

"Where are they?" Temperance asked, slipping on a pair of latex gloves she had grabbed from the Escalade.

"I doubt you will be able to view them given your current choice of clothing and footwear," Zack said.

"Perhaps. Where are they?" Bones looked around, eager to give her opinion and then go home.

"Up there," Zack said and then pointed to the large expanse of marble that was Lincoln's lap.

Booth and Brennan craned their necks upward to look but neither could see the remains from their current position.

"Guess Zack is right," Booth said dryly and then looked over at his partner, "there's no way you're going to climb up there in that get up."

"Thank you, Booth," Brennan replied sarcastically and then turned her full attention to her colleague. "Zack, I assume you had me brought here due to the difficulties of retrieval and evidence collection?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan."

"What condition are the remains in?"

"I haven't been up there yet, but the man who called the FBI indicated that they had been burned."

Temperance raised an eyebrow. Once again, she examined the scene before her and noticed for the first time the scaffolding set up next to Lincoln's left leg.

"You'll be using that to get up there I assume," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the scaffolding.

"Yes. That was how the body was discovered. It was erected for a crew to clean the statue with lasers," Zack began to explain.

"Hang on," Booth interrupted. "They use lasers to clean the Lincoln Memorial? I thought lasers were just for squint stuff and, you know, trying to kill off James Bond."

"No Booth," Brennan corrected him. "Lasers are commonly used to clean many older structures. They're used extensively throughout Europe on the exteriors of cathedrals such as Notre Dame in Paris."

"Hmm. Are these really intense laser beams? Could they have killed our guy?" Booth asked.

"Unlikely," Zack interjected. "At any rate, a worker came in to dismantle the scaffolding this evening and caught sight of the remains. And now we're here."

"Indeed," Brennan said, her gaze again drawn up to Lincoln's weathered face.

She turned her attention back to Zack and they began to discuss how to approach and collect the remains, all of which Booth tuned out in favour of surveying the scene before him. Given that the lasers weren't strong enough to kill someone that left out accidental death. Which then forced him to ask the question: who would go through the trouble of dragging a body up the scaffolding and onto the Lincoln statue? The killer had obviously wanted the remains to be found; otherwise, he never would have left them in such a public place. There was also a decent chance that the murderer had wanted the FBI to investigate, as he had chosen a national landmark. It was shaping up to be a bizarre case. He tuned back in to the squints before him and found them fitting Zack up with a camera mounted on a helmet. The images would then be relayed back to a monitor that had been set up on the ground where Temperance could watch and advise her assistant on what to do via the headset also connected to the helmet.

Meanwhile, an enormous team of FBI and Jeffersonian forensics experts were swarming over the monument, collecting fingerprints, footprints, and a plethora of other types of physical evidence. Given that the Memorial was a public site and a significant tourist draw, it was unlikely they would find anything useful but they would collect everything they could find anyway. Booth didn't envy the person responsible for cataloguing and examining the thousands of items that the forensics team would compile over the course of the night.

Temperance tugged gently on his sleeve, pulling him out of his thoughts and towards the monitor. Booth got bored quickly however, as the only images they were getting was shaky shots of the scaffolding and the side of the statue.

"Not a great climber, is he?" Booth commented aloud.

"Zack is afraid of heights," Bones said chidingly.

"Then why in the hell did he volunteer to go up there?" Booth queried sharply.

"Because I can't."

Booth had no immediate reply for that. He'd had his share of facing down his own fears in order to prove useful to his partner. And while shooting a psychotic killer clown was extremely different from climbing a simple scaffold, Booth could almost relate to what Zack was facing. Almost.

"You know, with the fear of heights and the refusal to drive a car it's a wonder that the girls don't flock to him," Booth finally said derisively.

Brennan pursed her lips in disapproval of Booth's mockery of her colleague and was about to shoot back a response when the pair were interrupted.

"Agent Booth?" a familiar voice called out.

"What's up Charlie?" Booth said as he wandered away from Brennan and towards the other agent.

"I didn't know you would be here, it being your night off for the banquet and all. If I had known, I wouldn't have interviewed the guy who found the body."

"Don't worry about it," Booth replied. "I'm only here because Dr. Addy needed some help from Dr. Brennan. Otherwise, I'd still be waltzing with beautiful women and schmoozing with the mucky-mucks. Did you get anything useful from the guy?"

"Not really. The cleaning crew left at five, he didn't get here until almost nine, and he didn't notice anything unusual other than the crispy critter in Abe's lap."

"I dislike the use of the term 'crispy critter'," Temperance said hotly. Booth started at her voice, having failed to notice her approach. It had always baffled him how stealthy women could be, even when wearing big high heels.

"I apologize," Charlie said, his eyes raking up and down the forensic anthropologist's silk-clad body. Booth frowned discouragingly.

"Thank you," Bones replied, unconscious of being scoped out. She turned to Booth, "Zack's at the top of the scaffold now. We should be getting some views of the body soon."

"Great," Booth said, rubbing his hands together. "So you take a quick look, tell Zack what kind of Ziploc to use, and then we can get out of here."

"What happened to my being the boss?" Temperance asked with amusement. "I didn't get any input in that plan at all."

"That was a limited time offer which has now lapsed," Booth said with a grin. "Thus, we revert back to me being the boss."

"I thought we were partners."

"We are. I'm just the only one of us with the gun, so I get the final word."

Brennan rolled her eyes. Booth got a little ridiculous when he was tired. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who needed to go to bed soon.

"I consent to your plan. For now."

"If that's the best you got, I'll take it," Booth replied with a grin.

Temperance shook her head at him and then strolled back to the monitors, Booth close behind her. The video footage was far less shaky now. Zack had moved from the top of the scaffolding onto the edge of Lincoln's chair and the charred remains were just visible at the edge of the screen. Booth immediately realised that this video would not prove useful to his portion of the investigation. To him it was simply a blackened skeleton resting in the lap of Lincoln. Other than a burn pattern on the marble, there was nothing else to see, as far as he was concerned. He turned his attention to Temperance, knowing that her reactions would prove more useful.

As Zack moved closer to the remains, the images on the screen were clearer and Brennan frowned. There was something about the remains that caused the hair on her arms to stand up, although she tried to convince herself it was only the night air. Zack finally came into close proximity with the bones and began to take pictures. His voice came out clearly from the speaker next to the monitor but Temperance wasn't listening. Her eyes were fixed on the television and they widened imperceptibly as Zack stood over the remains and looked down. The configuration of the remains was horrifyingly familiar. She made an indistinguishable sound deep in her throat and felt herself pale slightly.

"You ok, Bones?" Booth asked, noting the changes.

"Fine," she replied, her voice distant.

It couldn't be. They had promised her that she wouldn't have to deal with this. Yet here it was again, right on her doorstep. She couldn't believe it. Bastards.

"You sure?" Booth pressed, noting the brief spurt of flame in her eyes that indicated anger.

"Yes, thank you."

Booth's eyes narrowed. She was being too polite, her voice to precise. Something was going on with her and the remains.

"You see everything you need to?" he pushed, suddenly eager to get her out of there.

"Just a few more minutes please," she asked without looking at him and then spoke into the microphone that connected with Zack's headset.

"How's it look, Zack?"

"Intriguing. The bones are lying in a way I have never seen before. It appears almost as if there was a cord stretched from the victim's wrists to his ankles in order to keep him in this C shape."

"Interesting. The remains are male?"

"Yes, 28-35 years of age. Hispanic descent."

Booth watched the images of the bones grow larger on the screen as Zack kneeled over them.

"There's a very strong scent coming from the remains. It might be from the accelerant that was used."

"Was he alive when he was set on fire?" Booth asked, leaning over Temperance's shoulder to bring his mouth closer to the microphone.

"Difficult to determine. We'll need to bring the remains back to the Jeffersonian to check for any other sources of trauma before I can give you a definitive answer."

"Ok, Zack," Temperance broke back in, "I want you to thoroughly document the scene in photographs before you move the remains. They're going to set up a platform on a pulley system for you to put the bones on when you're ready to move them for analysis at the Jeffersonian."

"What about the rest of the scene?"

"Try not to disturb it. We'll have Jack come in and collect any particulates and any other evidence from up there."

"Any other instructions?"

"No Zack, you'll be fine. I'll see you at the Jeffersonian."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan."

Bones whirled away from the microphone and the monitor so quickly that she nearly collided with Booth.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. Her voice was still distant, the way it sounded when she was pulling a problem apart in her head and only giving him a fraction of her attention. Booth desperately wanted to prod her again and ask what was wrong but decided against it. She'd tell him soon enough.

"Great, so do you want to grab a coffee or something before we head back to your apartment?"

Temperance had been tightening her wrap about her shoulders as they descended the stairs of the memorial on their way back to the car, but at this question she stopped and stared at Booth as if he had grown another head.

"I'm not going back to my apartment. I need to go to the lab."

"Bones, c'mon. Zack can handle the remains until you get there in the morning. You're exhausted. Let me take you home."

"No," she barked shortly. "I am going to the lab. Now if you won't take me, I'll just call a cab," she continued, descending the last few steps and striding off towards the SUV defiantly.

Booth felt his temper rise slightly. The lightning quick changes in his partner's moods were enough to make any man want to strangle her. Walking more quickly, he passed the anthropologist in front him and opened the passenger door for her before she could reach it. As she climbed inside, he replied shortly, "There's no need to bite my head off."

"I didn't," she shot back icily.

Booth took out his growing anger on the car, slamming the door with more force than was necessary, and then stalked around to the driver's side. After closing his own door, he turned to face Brennan.

"What is going on with you?" he demanded accusatorily. "We were having a perfectly nice evening until you saw the remains."

She remained archly silent, her eyes focused on something out the window.

"Bones, look at me."

She did.

"What's up? You saw those bones and suddenly you're different a person. Have you seen something like this before?"

"No," she shot back defiantly but her eyes failed to hold contact with his.

"Why did you just lie to me?" he demanded, his temper rising further.

Temperance paused, weighing the idea of lying again but realising it would do more harm than good.

Her voice was quieter when she answered, "I can't tell you."

Ooooh, who doesn't love having secrets? I definitely do. Anyways, what do you think? Good or bad, I'd love to hear from you. Just press that tiny button and you will elicit squeals of happiness.