Note: I am so impressed with the variety of suggestions you came up with for X! A few people suggested Xena, which is an awesome suggestion that I am totally unqualified to write. I tried a couple of others (xeric and xenophilia), but they didn't quite jell. And the X-files has been done on the show itself, so here we are.

Sorry for the delay, I had a cold, then I watched season 6, and … well, long story short, I spent this afternoon watching season 1 so that I could finish this.

Title: X-Rated

Disclaimer: I don't own them

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The boardroom was quiet, and Brennan could hear every one of Ellen's agitated sighs and nervous taps.

It's not like she didn't have better things to do – sitting on her lab table right now was a set of ancient remains. Zach was probably having the time of his life.

She didn't really understand why she had to be there. Her publicist could answer what would most likely be routine questions. If the FBI needed additional information, the Jeffersonian wasn't far away. Surely they could make the drive.

Ellen had insisted, though, so here she was, wasting time that would be better spent at the lab.

Brennan glanced impatiently at her watch. The FBI agent who was supposed to be meeting them was five minutes late. She wanted to leave, but Ellen seemed very upset. She had just decided to give the agent five more minutes – for Ellen's sake – when the door opened and he walked in.

His smile was a little too smug when he saw her. "Hi Bones."

Brennan pulled her attention from that familiar, mocking, attractive face and looked at Ellen. "Can't we work with another agent?'

Booth moved in front of her and half-sat, half-leaned against the table. He kept one foot on the ground and swung the other back and forth. As he did, his pant leg pulled up far enough that she could see his red and black striped socks. "What's the matter, Bones? Don't you think I can find the scum who's blackmailing you?"

Brennan raised an eyebrow in challenge. "My only experience with your investigative techniques is the case we worked together – and you were stuck on that one for months before I solved it."

His leg stilled and he leaned towards her. "Oh, I'll catch this guy – just like I caught the judge in the Arrington case. You just helped me prove it."

Brennan leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms defensively. "I'm not sure. I'm used to working with the best."

Ellen leaned towards Brennan's ear and hissed, "Stop it." She held out her hand to Booth. "I'm Ellen Laskow, Temperance's publicist."

Booth smiled at Ellen. "Special Agent Seeley Booth. Since when do know-it-all scientists need publicists?"

Ellen smoothed her hair with one hand and smiled back at him. "Didn't you know? Temperance has written a book. I think it's going to be a best-seller. It's about a forensic anthropologist who works with an FBI agent solving crimes."

Booth's smile widened as he looked at Brennan. "Really."

Brennan busied herself staring at her clasped hands, which seemed to amuse Booth even more. He watched her ignore him for a few seconds, then picked up the folder he had brought into the room. All business, he said, "So you're being blackmailed?"

Brennan lifted her head and looked at him. "Yes."

Booth rolled his eyes. "For what? Someone catch you defleshing the wrong bones?"

Ellen opened her briefcase and handed him some printed pages. "Here are the e-mails."

Booth scanned the first one quickly and then set them on the table. "Sex tape."

Brennan raised her chin defiantly. "Yes."

Booth nodded slowly. "OK. So who's the guy, Bones? What's his name and contact info – phone number, address, e-mail, employer?"

"I don't know."

Booth shook his head. "Not the guy who's blackmailing you, the guy in the tape. I mean, I assume it's a guy?"

"Yes, it's a guy. I don't know his name. It was something common – Steve … or Shaun … maybe Sam … I'm really not sure."

Booth picked up the e-mails again. "And he wants five thousand dollars."

"Yes", Brennan answered. "Obviously, I'm not going to pay him."

"Damn right you're not.", Booth interrupted.

Brennan continued as if he hadn't said anything. "I'm a normal, healthy adult. I'm not happy that some guy taped us having sex and now wants to put it on the internet, but I'm not ashamed that I'm a sexual creature."

Booth swallowed, momentarily distracted by the thought. Brennan continued, "Ellen is obviously concerned about the impact on book sales, and I am concerned about how it will affect my career at the Jeffersonian. The board can be very conservative."

Booth's eyes met hers. "I'll catch him", he promised. "Do you have proof that he has a tape? I mean, do you remember it being made?"

Brennan shook her head. "No. I didn't know. But he's sent a clip … it seems reasonable to believe that the has more than he's sent."

"I'll need to have my computer guys look at the e-mails, see what they can find out. And they'll need the video." He picked up his notepad and pen. "Where did you meet this guy?"

"I went to this club – it's about halfway between here and the Jeffersonian. It has a neon blue and pink sign. Angela will remember the name. He was there, too."

Booth wrote on the notepad. "And you went home with him?"

"How did you know that?"

Booth looked up for a second. "I think you'd notice if he started setting up a video camera in your bedroom, Bones."

"Oh", Brennan answered. "Yes, we went to his place."

"Where did he live?"

Brennan's brow furrowed. "Georgetown. A row house. I don't remember what street."

"How'd you get home?"

"I called a cab", Brennan answered. "I don't remember which company."

Booth closed the notepad and set it on the table. "You're not making this easy for me, Bones, but I'll find him. If you remember anything, let me know."

"Is there anything else?", Brennan asked. Before Booth could answer, her cell phone buzzed and she looked at the display, then stood and picked up her bag. "I have to get back to work. I assume you'll be in touch."

A moment later, the door to the conference room swung shut behind her.

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Booth rapped on the door of the office, and one of the computer techs waved him inside. "Hey, Booth."

"Hi, Henderson." Booth picked a stack of papers off of the guest chair and sat down, notepad in his hands. "I sent you guys some e-mails and a video – did you discover anything?"

The guy at the next desk laughed. "Your victim is very flexible."

Booth glared at him, his hand resting on his gun. "What did you say, Johnston?"

Cowed, Johnston turned his attention back to his computer. "Nothing."

Henderson opened an image file on his computer, turning the screen so that Booth could see it. He could see the corner of a bed, but most of the image was of a window. "This is from the video", he explained. "I've enhanced it as much as I can. If you look over in this corner, you can almost make out the street sign."

"Do you know what it is?"

Henderson grinned "You owe me, Booth."

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Henderson signed the evidence slip and Booth handed over the laptop and video camera. "It was the only computer in the place, Henderson. Do your magic."

He played with his lucky poker chip as Henderson booted the computer and started to work his magic. Finally, Henderson snapped, "Booth, you're making me nervous looking over my shoulder like that. I'll call you when I have something. Just go get a coffee or something."

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It was five excruciating hours before Booth's phone rang. He raced down the stairs to Henderson's office and waited impatiently as Henderson walked him through what he'd found.

"OK, Booth. There is evidence that this computer was used to send the e-mails. I ran a full search and found the video – it had been erased, but luckily nothing had overwritten it, so I was able to recover it.

"Did you know that every camera leaves digital information in the images it takes? I decoded that information and was able to prove that the video was taken with this camera."

"So we got him?", Booth asked.

"We got him."

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The sliding doors opened and Booth got his first glimpse of the Medico-Legal lab of the Jeffersonian Institute. It wasn't anything like he'd thought – glass and metal instead of the cramped basement lab from the 1800s he had expected.

Brennan was on the platform, her attention focused on something on a table, so Booth bounded up the stairs.

When the alarm went off and the guard started towards him, he raised his hands, saying, "FBI, no need for alarm."

Brennan stomped down the stairs and slid her access card through the reader, silencing the alarm. "It's OK, Doug", she said, and the guard went back to his post.

Booth smiled at her. "Thanks, Bones. Is there somewhere private we can talk?" She looked at him in appraisal, and he did his best to look non-threatening.

To his relief, she pulled off her gloves and dropped them in the nearest disposal unit. "This way", she said.

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She sat down in her desk chair and nodded him towards the couch. "Well?", she asked, "Have you found anything?" Her face was composed, as if they were talking about the weather instead of her ex-lover, but her eyes hinted at turmoil.

"We got him, Bones."

She smiled, her relief obvious. "You did?"

He smiled in return, happy to have been the one to save the day. "Yes. He's under arrest. My computer guys proved he took the video – and that he sent the e-mails."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Bones."

He couldn't stay there grinning at her forever, though, and before he went he had something more to say. His expression turned serious, and he said, "Bones, look, I know you're not ashamed of your sexuality, but … maybe you could choose a bit more carefully next time?"

"I'll try", she said wryly, "but apparently I'm not a very good judge of men."

He stood to leave, then reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a USB key. "Here", he said. "I'm not really supposed to give you this, but you should probably watch the entire video before the case goes to court. We'll try to keep it off the news, but it's possible that it leaks anyway."

She took the USB key gingerly. "Oh! I … I hadn't thought about that."

He nodded and turned to leave. Just before he reached the door, she asked, "Have you watched it?"

He stopped in his tracks. "Yes", he replied, still facing the door.

The silence seemed to stretch for hours – and when she spoke, the disappointment and shame in her voice made him wish it had. "Oh." Reluctantly, he turned to face her.

"I had to watch it, Bones. I'm the investigating officer."

That seemed to make her angry. "I'm sorry it was such torture for you, Booth."

He stepped towards her, his hands raised in supplication. "Look, Bones, ..."

Brennan turned away and sat down in her desk chair, turning her attention to her computer screen. He followed, stepping behind her and swiveling her chair to force her to face him. She crossed her arms and glared at him. "We're done here, you can leave."

There was a challenge in his eyes. "We're not done yet. Not until you understand."

She rolled her eyes. "I understand just fine – and I have work to do. You can let yourself out."

He stepped forward and she scooted backward until her chair hit her desk. "It was torture", he said, trying not to notice the hurt look that crossed her face. "It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do for a case. I sat in my office and I watched that video and – do you know what I thought?"

Brennan raised her chin defiantly. "I can't imagine why I'd care what you thought."

Booth put his hands on the arms of her chair. He leaned in close enough to feel her breath on his face and there it was – the electricity that he hadn't felt since she slapped his face and walked out of his life. "Maybe you don't care. Maybe that fact that I wanted to kill that guy doesn't mean anything to you. Maybe it doesn't matter that I watched you with him and all I could think that he was an idiot – that if I had been the one who had been with you, it wouldn't have been because I wanted money. It would have been I wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to pull your clothes off, to know what you felt like around me, to fuck you until you screamed my name."

Her breasts heaved as she gasped, a sharp intake of breath that gave him the confidence to go on. "But that's not all I wanted. I wanted to make love to you – to worship your body with mine. I wanted to go and pick up coffee and donuts for breakfast while you slept in my bed. I wanted to argue over who got the shower first – and then declare an impasse and have sex in the shower until the water went cold."

He released the arms of her chair and straightened up. "But you don't care what I thought."

His hand was on the door handle before she spoke. "Booth?"

He stopped. "If you want to come over tonight, I'll be home by 7."

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Suggestions for Y? (Two more to go! My goal is to get them done before Christmas.)