First, this story is a collaboration between FaithInBones and Penandra. We were intrigued by the characters played by actor Ralph Waite in the two series - Jackson Gibbs in NCIS and Hank Booth in Bones. In an exchange of PMs we got into a discussion about whether or not the two agents could be related. Then, of course whether Jackson and Hank were related . . . . then (as is the wont of fan fiction authors) we decided to explore the possibilities. Thank you for joining us on the journey. We are glad that you are along for the ride!

We appreciate all of the hits on this story, especially here in the NCIS fandom where we know that we are unknown authors. Thank you to those of you who are reading our little fic . . . . thank you especially to those readers who have been willing to leave a review. If you are an author, you know that means a lot. When FaithInBones and I first had this idea, neither of us had ever collaborated with another author for fanfiction. It has been quite the fun adventure. If there is an author that you have been exchanging PMs with, I would encourage you to explore the possibilities. Toss some ideas around, and give it a shot. This is a very supportive fandom, and I encourage you to try it out.

And just in case anyone could every possibly think that there is the slightest chance - let us just assure you that without question, without a doubt, neither Lenora nor I own any part of NCIS or Bones (well, other than on DVD!) ;-D

Arriving at the NEX, Booth looked around and with a thoughtful look, said, "We should probably assume that the daughter has been in contact with the mother by now. I'm thinking that you should take the lead this time."

Looking over at Booth as they exited the vehicle, Gibbs replied, "Yeah. I wouldn't doubt that she has. Okay, let's try it your way this time."

After asking for the manager, the two agents waited near the front entrance. Hurrying up to them, a man smiled nervously and introduced himself, "Gentlemen? I'm Caleb Bishop, I'm the manager here. Candy told me you wanted to talk to me. What can I do for NCIS and the FBI?"

Holding out his badge, Gibbs responded, "My partner and I would like to interview Tricia Van Pelt."

Flicking his eyes to Booth and then back to Gibbs, Caleb laughed nervously, "Uh, ok. Let me have her paged to come to my office. You can interview her there. . . Is there something I need to know?"

Shaking his head, Gibbs responded, "Nope. We just need to talk to Tricia Van Pelt. Privately."

Shrugging his shoulders, Caleb cleared his throat, "Okay, if you would just follow me I'll take you to my office and she can meet us there."

Glancing at Booth's impassive face, Gibbs turned and followed Caleb with Booth a few paces behind.

ooooo

Waiting for Tricia, Booth watched as the manager fidgeted behind his desk. Caleb, aware that he was being closely observed, cleared his throat, "Is this about that body? Was it a murder? I heard that it was a murder." He laughed nervously, then answered his own question. "I guess it would have to be, wouldn't it? No one just crawls into a garbage bag to die, do they?"

The two agents watched the agitated man as he stuck his finger in the collar of his shirt. "I'll leave when Tricia gets here. That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to leave when Tricia arrives?"

Continuing to give the man a fixed look, Booth nodded his head.

Gibbs amused at Booth's antics, sat down on a chair next to Caleb's desk and watched the doorway without comment.

Arriving at the office, Tricia knocked on the doorframe and leaned into the room, "You wanted to see me, Boss?"

Standing, Caleb pointed at Gibbs and then Booth, "These men are with NCIS and the FBI, Tricia. They need to talk to you."

Nodding her head, Tricia walked into the room and replied, "My daughter called me right after you left the house, I . . ."

Holding up his hand, Booth scowled at the curious manager and motioned with his head toward the open door. Taking the hint, Caleb walked around his desk. Flicking his gaze from the agents to his employee, "Tricia, I have something I have to take care of. I'll leave the three of you to talk." He hurried to the doorway and left as quickly as his dignity allowed.

Tricia turned and watched the man skitter from the room. He reminded her of a hermit crab looking for a place to hide. She addressed the two agentsmen, "Like I started to say, my daughter called me and told me that an agent from NCIS and the FBI had been to my house. That's you two correct?" At their simultaneous nods, she continued, "Mary said that you told her that Perry is dead. That my son is dead."

Watching the woman closely, Gibbs responded, "You don't seem very shook up about the news, Ms. Van Pelt. Is this something you were expecting to hear?"

Crossing her arms across her chest, Tricia replied defensively, "How can you say that? You don't know anything about me. Neither of you do. You don't know how I feel about anything."

Nodding his head, Gibbs stood up, "You're right. I don't. But perhaps you can tell us this, Ms. Van Pelt. Why did you wait five days to report your son missing?"

Glaring, Tricia pursed her lips, "Mary told me that she explained to you about Perry just taking off for days at a time. You can ask his friends. They'll tell you what Mary told you. He'd get tired of living in a house of women and he'd just leave. He'd come back when he needed money or a good home cooked meal."

Aware that Booth was watching her intently, Tricia glanced at him and then dismissed him. Turning back to Gibbs, she added, "Perry hung out with dangerous people, Mr. uh. . . Who are you anyways? I think you should show me your badges."

Pulling his badge and ID out of his pocket, Gibbs replied, "Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, ma'am, NCIS." He pointed at Booth who quickly flashed his badge and then put it back on his belt, "This is my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI."

Frowning, Tricia hugged herself, "Perry liked to hang out with bikers. He drank at biker bars. He ran with them and he rode with them. Stuff like that. I told him that they were dangerous; but, what do I know? Whenever I said anything, he'd just tell me to mind my own business; so, I did. No one could tell Perry . . ."

Interrupting the on-going tirade, Booth asked, "Ma'am, how did you get those bruises on your face and around your eyes?"

Startled, Tricia moved her hands to her face, 'How can you . . . I mean, what bruises?"

Shaking his head, Booth responded, "You've done a very good job with your makeup, Ms. Van Pelt; but, I know what I see. You have bruises and black eyes."

Lowering her hands, Tricia sighed, "Perry."

Frowning, Gibbs asked, "Your son beat you?"

Nodding her head, Tricia turned her gaze to her shoe tops, "Perry wasn't very nice and he was worse if he'd been drinking." The agents exchanged a look of understanding as she continued, "If he wanted money and I didn't have any to spare, he'd beat me until I found some."

Staring intently at Tricia, Booth asked, "Did he beat Mary and Ryan? Is that how they got the injuries that we saw? Were those from Perry also?"

Nodding her head, Tricia started to cry, "Yes. He was a good boy. Really, he was. He didn't mean to hit us. He'd just get so angry sometimes or he'd have too much to drink. He didn't mean to hurt us. I know he didn't. He'd apologize when he got sober and saw what he'd done. He didn't mean to hurt us. I know he didn't mean it. He was a good boy and I loved him."

Glancing at Booth and then at Tricia, Gibbs asked, "Did you kill Perry, Tricia?"

Shaking her head vehemently, she looked up and denied it, "No, Agent Gibbs. He was my son. Even though he had a rotten temper, I would never hurt my son. Never. I swear it. I loved him. . . . . If you would just look at his friends you'd see that I'm telling you the truth. He had very dangerous friends."

ooooo

After they left the NEX and were on their way back to the District, Gibbs turned to Booth and asked, "Her makeup was very good. I couldn't tell that she had bruising underneath until you pointed it out. How could you tell?"

Glancing out of the driver's side window and then back to the road ahead, Booth cleared his throat, "Mom was really good at covering up her bruises too. After awhile I learned how to see what she was hiding. She'd defend my father too you know. Like Tricia Van Pelt defended her son. I know that's typical of domestic abuse victims and I get it on some level because I would hide my bruises and defend my Dad too. I knew that was wrong; but, removed from the situation, it's strange. Now, now I just can't even wrap my head around it. I don't understand it. Not anymore."

Sighing, Gibbs closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat. "Yeah. I know. It's strange how our brains work sometimes, eh?" He paused, then, keeping his eyes directed on the road ahead, he continued. "I wish I could have been more helpful with your Dad, Seeley. I'm sorry I couldn't help Joseph. He wanted to be a good man. It's not that he was weak. He was just powerless and he thought that made him weak."

Flicking his eyes at Gibbs, Booth returned his gaze back to the road, "Yeah, I know a little bit about powerlessness." He thought of the poker chip in his pocket. "Powerless or not though, I would never hit Bones or my children." Shaking his head, Booth glanced at his cousin, "It's okay. It was what it was. Anyway, are you buying the Van Pelt's dangerous friends excuse?"

Shaking his head, Gibbs turned towards his temporary partner, "Nah, not really. I think we've already met the murderer. My guts telling me it's either Tricia or Mary." Booth glanced over at him and nodded as Gibbs continued, "I'd like to wait and see what Dr. Brennan says is cause of death. By the way, Ducky is very impressed with her skill at reassembling bones. He's very hopeful that she might really come up with COD."

Proud of Brennan, Booth smiled, "Oh, she will. Bones is the best in the world when it comes to bones and figuring out cause of death. She actually solved a five thousand year old murder once. She proved that some Egyptian prince was wrongly accused of murdering his brother. The Egyptian government gave her an award and threw her a big party at the Jeffersonian."

Impressed, Gibbs smiled, "Wow, that's pretty impressive."

Grinning, Booth nodded his head, "Yeah, I know. She's scary smart and she's the reason my solve rate is so high. Believe me, I know I have a treasure working with me."

Gibbs returned his gaze to the road, nodded his head and replied, "And a treasure in your life as well or am I misreading some signs there?" He smiled at the younger man.

"Absolutely. Absolutely." Curious, Booth asked, "So, I guess you know that Bones and I are living together. That baby you saw the other day is ours. Our daughter. Christine."

Nodding his head, Gibbs smiled, "Yeah, I know."

After a few miles rolled by, Booth asked, "So are you married?"

Picking up Perry's folder and flipping through it, Gibbs reflected on how he would respond. Finally he answered his cousins query, "I've been married a few times."

Intrigued by the tidbit of information, Booth asked, "Do you have any kids?"

Closing the folder, Gibbs replied, "I did. My first wife, Shannon and our daughter, Kelly were murdered in 1991. Kelly was eight years old."

Swallowing, Booth glanced at Gibbs' sad face and then forward again, "I'm sorry Jethro. I didn't mean to. . . I'm sorry for your loss. I'm not sure what I'd do if Bones and Christine were taken from me. I shouldn't have asked."

Shaking his head, Gibbs assured Booth, "You didn't know. It was a long time ago. . . I do miss them. They were probably the best part of me."

Nodding his head, Booth sighed, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

A/N: 1991 must have been a bad year. That also the year that Max Keenan and his wife Ruth (Christine) abandoned their children, Temperance and Russ.

We appreciate reviews from readers. Please let us know what you think we are doing well, where we could improve. If you have prompts (or reminders), please feel free to pass them on either in a review or a PM. (This is how we were reminded of Shannon and Kelly and also how our mistake earlier in this fic was caught that Gibbs is from Stillwater NOT Stillwell! I knew that! Really, I did. But my fingers got ahead of my brain (not an unusual occurrence), and there you have it.

Thanks to all of you for reading . . . . just a little nod that you were here (even just in passing) would be appreciated.