Author's Note: Hey! Sorry for the delay! Had some family issues and my grandparents don't have internet. My Appologies! Anyhoo, I will still have the next chapter up on Saturday, barring anything major happening. And enjoy!


Two weeks had come and gone.

The first eight days had been spent pouring over evidence that led to brick wall after brick wall.

On the eighth day a body had been found in D.C. All work was suspended by the FBIs higher ups on the Bethany Holms and George Newton murder.

On the tenth day the killer was arrested. It was the victim's husband. Work resumed on the Holms/Newton murder.

On the fifteenth day, two teenagers breaking into an abandoned grain silo in West Virginia found the bodies of a young man and woman, bound together. Local PD, consisting of only a town sheriff and his second cousin who was the deputy, were at a loss and contacted state authorities. The state contacted the local field office of the FBI.

The FBI contacted Special Agent Seeley Booth.

"You're gonna have to tell 'em sometime, sweetie, and it won't be long before they can tell on their own. Are those new pants?"

Dr. Brennan sighed, laying her head on her desk. She mumbled.

"I didn't catch a word of that," Angela said, standing across the desk from her.

Lifting her head, Brennan repeated, "I know. I find that I am anxious about everyone being aware of how quickly my relationship with Booth progressed. It's not rational, but I feel the longer I refrain from Cam and my grad students knowing, the less likely it is for something to go wrong."

"Right. Progressed quickly. If Bo-"

There was a commotion out in the main lab drowning whatever Angela had to say. With a look, both women headed out towards the platform, to find Booth leading a team of men wheeling in a couple of gurneys.

"Booth?" Brennan asked, "What is this?"

The lab techs started transferring the bodies onto the platform and removing them from the body bags. They were a young man and woman, still fully fleshed.

"A murder, Bones. These two were found in West Virginia. But since they are residents of Maryland it worked its way to me."

"Booth... they have all their flesh on them. I don't work with flesh. Why are they here?"

Without a word he handed her a white X-Ray envelope and a manila folder. She opened the folder and found crime scene photos. One showed the couple currently being arranged in her lab lying on a pile of old rags in an abandoned building. He was wrapped around the woman, bound seven times, thrice across the chest, four times at their legs. Her wrists and elbows were tied under her chin, his wrists were tied at her waist. Brennan looked up at the bodies, their position in the photo strikingly like she hypothesized Beth Holms and George Newton were bound. Closing the folder she took out the X-rays. In each chest cavity there was the clear image of a jar, with a mass inside.

"There's still a lot of flesh on them. Has an autopsy been done?" she asked, handing everything back to Booth.

"No, I sent Ms. Wick to get Cam. You and I are headed to Westwood and Lowell Attorneys at Law. First, though, we have to pick up Sweets. You aren't going to believe what we missed the first time around."


There was something up with them. It wasn't anything obvious, nothing he could put his finger on, but something wasn't right. Maybe it was the way that after barging in on him, thankfully when there was no one else in the room, Dr. Brennan had apologized. Maybe it was that she didn't deride him about soft science when he told them his profile. Maybe it was that she didn't seem to notice that Agent Booth was obviously consciously avoiding touching her.

Whatever it was, something was up.

Not that it did him any good to bring it up. Maybe something had changed, but the agent and anthropologist in the front seats could still argue like they'd been married for thirty years. He leaned between them, ready to put in his two cents, when they both suddenly stopped and looked at each other.

"So, Sweets," Booth asked without looking at him, "he's targeting committed couples?" That had been the source of the argument; Dr. Brennan had insisted that there was no way to determine that the killer was targeting committed lovers, as marriage – and all of the identified victims had either been married or engaged – did not immediately mean that the couple was committed to each other. A person's fidelity could not be determined by a piece of paper.

"Of the ten couples found, and the six that have been identified, all have had some romantic connection between them. I would say that it is logical to conclude that the killer knew this, as the nature of the crimes suggest that he followed the victims, and knew their routines. He took them from remote camp sites, either back country sites or unfrequented parks, but they were always places that the couples were known to visit on a regular basis." Sweets waited for the outburst from Dr. Brennan that never came.

She nodded, as if agreeing.

Sweets narrowed his eyes and watched them both as they exited the highway. It bothered him that he couldn't put his finger on exactly what was different between them. Other than Booth's reticence to touch Dr. Brennan, and her suddenly agreeable behavior, they were the same people. And nothing he could come up with would explain both symptoms.

His musing was cut off by their arrival at the law offices. It was a detached building, older construction, though fairly modern for the area. Late 70s, perhaps, though he was never a very good judge of those things. The windows were darkened, and the parking lot had a look of abandonment. The name over the door though shone in the early afternoon light. The couple at the lab were supposedly the head partners at this firm, though neither was a Westwood or a Lowell.

The air of neglect that surrounded the outside of the building was lost once you passed the front doors. Inside everything was clean, tidy. The receptionist smiled warmly at them as she transferred someone on the phone.

"Divorce?" she asked, with the same sweet smile, "Or prenuptials?" Her face fell when she saw Dr. Sweets, obviously unsure what to make of this third party in her attempts to direct them to the proper office.

"I'm Agent Booth, with the FBI. We're here to talk to Frank Carlson," Booth said, flashing his badge.

Her face brightened again, "Oh! Yes, of course. He's in the conference room down the hall with a client. You can wait in his office, third door on the left after you take the second right. I'll tell him you're here." The phone was ringing again, and she picked it up after pointing them down which hallway to start their journey.

They hadn't been in the office more than a minute when a middle aged, balding man came in. He knocked, though it was his own office. Sweets turned away from the window, but didn't approach. Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth were already seated at the desk, and the man moved to sit across from them.

"Hello, Agents. I'm Frank Carlson, current senior legal council now, I suppose."

"Dr. Sweets and I are not agents, Mr. Carlson," Brennan said, earning a glance from Booth and a startled apology from Frank.

Booth half stood and offered Mr. Carlson his hand, ignoring Brennan's statement. "Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Carlson. I'm Agent Booth, this is my partner Dr. Brennan, and our associate Dr. Sweets. We just have a few questions about Howard Gray and Kathy Mason. They owned the law firm together, bought it from the previous owners four years ago. Am I correct?"

"Yes, Agent Booth. After John Westwood passed away, Mr. Lowell left the practice completely. He finally sold it four years ago, Mr. Gray and Ms. Mason had already worked here, and of all the offers it offered the greatest stability in transition. I don't know what we'll do now." Mr. Carlson wrung his hands, sighing, almost stuttering as he spoke.

"Do you know if they had any enemies, or perhaps had started spending time after hours with any one new?" Booth leaned forward, watching the man's reaction.

"No. No, I'm not aware… I don't believe so. They were both still working very long hours, and had made some of the paralegals stay with them, but no one really minded. Since the sale everyone here has been happier, better hours mostly, and if anyone had to stay one of them would stay too. And we don't do criminal cases, DUIs and divorce mainly. Things were really good."

"What about at home? Were you aware of anything going on between them outside of work?"

"No. Mr Gray's been talking nonstop about how his boyfriend is coming back into town in a few weeks. Oh, Lord, what am I going to tell Steven?" Frank muttered.

Booth looked taken aback, and it was Brennan who asked, "Did Ms. Mason know her partner was a homosexual?"

"What? Yeah, everyone knew. Ms. Mason would tease him every so often, but it was all in good fun. Was their murder related to that? Her boyfriend might have had some issues with it. We rarely saw him around here, but he doesn't seem the type to kill someone."

"Could they have been having an affair, despite Mr. Gray's orientation?" Booth asked.

"No. I know it seems strange, since they were out in the woods together. But that park is out of the way. People don't normally go out there. Mr. Gray was trying to find a spot where he could take Steven when he came back. Somewhere that people might not notice, you know? Ms. Mason had gone there before, so she knew it." Mr. Carlson sat over his desk, eyes wide, wringing his hands. His shoulders were hunched, and it took him a moment to straighten himself out of the chair when Booth stood up to leave.

"Thank you, Mr. Carlson. If we could just get Ms. Mason's boyfriends name, and where we can reach Mr. Grey's significant other, we'll let you get back to work." Booth said, shaking the man's hand again.

Sweets tried very hard not to drag his feet as he followed them out of the building. So much for his profile.


Brennan strode through the lab, raising a hand quickly to signal Ms. Wick to follow her, and headed into the autopsy bay. Dr. Saroyan was standing by the counter, her back to the door. The bodies were already on the the gurneys ready to be taken to flesh removal. She turned to look over her shoulder as Dr. Brennan walked in.

"Ah, I'm glad you're here. I can safely say that these two victims starved to death, and rapidly. I'm thinking Hodgins' time of death on the original couple might be accurate," she said, moving away from the table where two mason jars sat, currently empty; their contents in the trays beside them.

"They were dehydrated?" Brennan asked, as she heard Ms. Wick come up behind her.

"No, however evidence in the stomach and intestinal track suggests the body actually began feeding on fat reserves while there was still food in the victims' stomachs. Given they've only been missing a week, and time of death is fairly conclusive at between 48-72 hours ago, it's a logical explanation."

"Except it's impossible. Ms. Wick, I believe Dr. Saroyan is finished, please see to the de-fleshing," she didn't even turn her head as she spoke to her intern, and as Daisy rushed to obey she continued with what she was telling Dr. Saroyan, "A healthy adult can last over a week without food. Unless all of our victims had eating disorders it is simply not possible for time of death to be correct. There has been an error."

Camille sighed, plastering a large, tolerant smile on her face, "Hm, except the victims had pill remnants in their stomachs. Could be they ate a bad potato."

"If they had pills in their stomach, its more likely they were force fed pills, not potatoes. Unless there was also potato in their stomachs?"

"No, Dr. Brennan," Daisy cut in as she reentered the room to get the second gurney, "there's this book, and then it was a movie about a guy from New York who went to Alaska – he ate a potato and a moose. And it killed him."

Dr. Saroyan wondered why she put up with them all. "Thank you Ms. Wick. I'm sure Dr. Brennan wants the bones cleaned as soon as possible." She smiled at the intern, though it was forced.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with potatoes. We'll wait on Hodgins' analysis of the stomach contents before determining where the errors were. Thank you, Dr. Saroyan." Dr. Brennan left, heading for her office.

Camille turned back to the two trays on the counter behind her, shaking her head. Six years and she still felt like she had to remind them she was the boss. Even Booth, and she wasn't even his boss.

The contents of the mason jar stared up at her. They looked so real, and if she hadn't known what to expect she might have thought they were. It surprised her how each heart was distinct. None of the four silicon hearts were identical. Each, from the outside, looked like it could easily belong to the victim who had carried it in their chest.

But it was a mold. It had to be a mold of some kind. You couldn't carve...

Dr. Saroyan stopped, scalpel poised above the fake heart from Howard Gray. In order for them each to be so different, they'd each of had to use a different mold. Or have been hand carved. The silicon might not be traceable, but the equipment to make a silicon mold might be.


Hodgins' watched as his wife sauntered into his office, smiling that wicked little smile of hers he loved so much. She came around the desk and kissed him, purring softly as she did.

"To what do I owe that pleasure?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Cam just asked me to research equipment sales for mold production – and not your kind." Angela rolled her eyes, leaning a hip on his desk. "Which means the Angelatron is working its magic and I'm bored. I called the nursery. Michael's napping." She sighed, and pouted. "I miss him."

Hodgins bit off a chuckle. He missed his son too, but they'd seen him less than an hour ago when they'd gone to lunch. Angela would have the boy attached to her hip for eternity. Not that that was an awful idea, having the little man in the lab would be great, but Angela was convinced he was better off spending his days with "the normal children" as she put it. "I do too. What can I do to make you feel better?" he asked with a leer. And people said having kids killed your sex drive.

"I'm just here to keep you company. You know Cam's rules, Jack," she laughed.

He was about to respond when the mass spectrometer beeped. With a shrug he rolled his chair away from her and started reading over the results. She read over his shoulder, attempting to decipher what was on the machine's tiny screen. He pushed a couple of buttons and then rolled over to his computer. Angela moved away to inspect the strange things growing around the office.

"Why don't you think Brennan has let the cat out of the bag?" she asked nonchalantly as she perused the shelves.

Hodgins looked up at her, but she wasn't looking towards him. "Maybe she's afraid we'll panic. I know Daisy would." He chuckled.

"Maybe. But if she waits much longer she's not going to say a word and everyone will know."

"Holy pink gadflies batman," he muttered.

"Exactly! Wait, what?" She made her way back over to the desk and looked at his computer screen. "Is that what I think it is?"

"If you think that it's cause of death, than yes. Otherwise, maybe."

"You've found cause of death?" Dr. Brennan asked as she walked into the room.

"Hell yeah, Dr. B!" He hit a button and the spectrometry readings on his monitor moved to the large screen behind him. "It's a blend of enzymes," he hit another button and another graph showed on the screen, "FYN proteins, mainly - orlistat, and ephedrine in smaller amounts."

"Diet pills?" Angela asked incredulously, "Totally not what I thought it was."

Brennan walked up to the screen, looking at the colored bars that showed the ionic variance of the compounds within the pills found in the victims' stomachs. The combination of drugs sounded vaguely familiar, like she'd heard that exact combination before.

"The bones are set in Bone Room 3, Dr. Brennan," Daisy called from the doorway before noticing everyone staring intently at the screen, "Oh! It's the "Burn fat like struck by lightening" pill they were selling at the airport in Jakarta. Remember Dr. Brennan, they tried to sell it to us when we switched planes to get to Maluku," she laughed, "and you told them you were beautiful already and didn't need it. And right you were!"

Everyone in the room had turned away from the monitor to stare at her, all but Brennan wondering how she could figure that out from a single colored graph. The room went quiet once she finished speaking, and the crickets Hodgins had been cultivating as a pet project began to chirp.

"Thank you, Ms. Wick. I will be there shortly." Brennan turned away from her intern, who was still grinning foolishly at the threshold. "I do remember something like that. I read the bottle, I believe."

Hodgins was typing away furiously, and after a moment he leaned back. "King. Of. The. Lab. Lazerpill. Came to the states about six years ago, trial stuff, at the time mainly straight ephedrine. This new formula was announced two years ago. They were shut down by the Department of Public Safety eight months ago. You can't get anything like this in the States anymore, or anywhere with a stable government for that matter."

"Why not?" Angela moved closer to Hodgins, reading over his shoulder.

"Because, Ange, you end up with vitamin deficiencies if you eat less than 2000 calories a day. It sucks it right out of your skin. And what decent, self respecting American dieter even reaches 2000 calories?"

"I'll tell Booth."

And then they were two again, in his office.

"You know, Jack," Angela whispered, almost seductively "I do know something you can do to make me feel better?"

"Mmm?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Walk with me to the nursery to see Michael. Even if he's sleeping, he's so cute."