Contrite Author's Note: It all started with a seemingly simple question: how does a forensic anthropologist visualize a peri-mortem bone bruise on dry bone? Simple question, extremely difficult to answer. It turns out UV light works well on flesh but not on bone. (Hart Hanson, I love you and I love the 100th as one of my all time favorites but ... UV light only works in the dark and it can't reveal bleeding hidden deep inside the center of a bone, which is what a 'bone bruise' is). It also turns out that bone bruising shows up nicely on an MRI ... in a living patient with active blood flow. In a dead skeleton with no blood, not so much.

The third option (and the only one that would work with dry bone) is an extremely expensive three-dimensional CT scan that would not be used in a routine murder investigation in 2006. Not without a pretty good reason, at any rate. (Because in addition to the bone question, there was also the question of what technology would be available in the Jeffersonian during early season 2.)

So why is this a contrite note instead of a scientific one...? It took me one frustrating week of pawing through piles of books, articles and papers to discover this and then another week while I researched the best way to rework a major plot development so it would not be based on bogus science.

And that is why I officially hate this chapter. (For the last couple of weeks I've even been hating this story.) It's also why I didn't even have enough time or energy to send out thank you notes for reviews to the last chapter.

Hence, the contrition.

~Q~

Fan Mail - Inside the Institution

~Q~

"Give me his name."

Even as he asked for it, Booth was telling himself that this was a red herring. It wasn't the same style of communication, it wasn't the same kind of approach. A guy in prison was no immediate threat to Bones and yet... indigestion was rumbling. How did the letter get to New York? Even if the letter and its author were harmless in themselves, this was a niggling little question his Catholic conscience would probably force him to waste valuable time checking out. (And he was not happy about it.)

Hodgins handed over the dossier Angela had complied on the perverted prisoner, leaving Booth with half a dozen priorities competing for top honors on his agenda, plus this one. Which ... might not be a first place contender after all. Forgery, faked documents, and then the slavering fan letter that didn't fit unless it, too, was faked. After glancing through the rap sheet that went back a couple of decades, the frazzled agent sighed. "Thanks. I'm still not convinced this matters but thanks."

Shrugging, Hodgins noted the favor he'd owed to Booth was only part of his purpose in being thorough. "Since this is for Doctor B I figure we leave no stone unturned, right? Because you know she wouldn't."

"Right." Though she still had a long way to go in terms of investigating living people, when it came to the dead Brennan was possibly the most meticulous investigator he knew. Nothing was left unexamined, and that paid off as something akin to magic. It didn't matter how long dead or how little was left, she could tease clues and stories out of remains so degraded that they were just hints of human. Give her three bone bits on a golf course (in the middle of an aviation disaster, no less) and she'd give you a man murdered five years ago. Bring her a piece of ear and she'd find the wax inside that suggested 'South African auto mechanic.' (Although, now that he was thinking about it, that earwax trick actually came from Hodgins). "Speaking of magic..."

Amused, the second scientist who had ever managed to impress Booth crossed his arms and prompted, "...which we weren't..."

No, they weren't. There was no magic allowed in the Jeffersonian but Booth was just dazzled and frazzled enough to hope Hodgins had as many tricks hiding up the sleeves of his lab coat as Bones so often did. "...do you think you can work some of that squinty magic on this?" He proffered the note extracted from the deadly daisies.

"Formal case this time?"

"Yeah. Also..."

The scientist nodded even before Booth could frame his request. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her."

"That isn't what I was going to ask."

"Oh." Curious now, he held silent, probably wondering why Booth had turned even more jittery.

"Well I mean please do, but what I wondered was..." After a painful pause and an equally uncomfortable two-step to the side, Booth found himself making a wildly out of character request. At least, the Seeley Booth of a year ago never would have asked for such a thing, or even known someone who could fulfill the wish. "Look, do you think you could ... uh ... see to it that the Jeffersonian gets new HVAC units?"

"Which part?"

Blankly, Booth wracked his brain for a reply and hedged his bet with something thorough. "All the parts...?"

Proving how just wildly 'out there' the request was, Hodgins dropped his arms, gaping openly until speech finally forced his mouth back into movement. "You want me to buy air conditioning units for the entire Jeffersonian?"

Did he have to make it sound so unreasonable? "The ones in here are ancient and according to Bones it takes an act of Congress, or a directive from one of the donors. That's you, right?"

The secretly very wealthy benefactor chuckled. "Well yeah, but I'm just surprised you even care about the finer points of running the museum. You do realize that the Jeffersonian Institution is huge..."

What Booth cared about was keeping all unnecessary personnel out of the lab and part of that mandate included keeping equipment up-to-date (not that he was going to share that). "Hey, it's a Federal institution preserving our nation's heritage. Of course I care. Besides — you guys got Archie Bunker's chair in here."

"Wrong building," Hodgins pointed out, but only as a point of order because his next question implied he was about to say yes anyway. "That's pretty steep. Is this the second favor?"

"No, it's..." Surprised the billionaire wouldn't just do it out of the kindness of his stinking rich heart, Booth finally caught on to idea of a 'wrong building' as the possible explanation for the wealthy squint's shock. "What's so steep?"

"We're talking nineteen separate museums—"

"Nineteen?!"

"Plus the National Zoo."

Oh.

No, God, he wasn't going to waste a free pass on air conditioning. Booth paused again to think over what it was rippling in his gut that made him worry over the operations of a museum his partner worked for, and weighing that against losing future rights to demand covert assistance from Jack Hodgins. Better to keep all options open. "You know what, nevermind."

Raising a brow, Hodgins shrugged. "No, hey, I'll do it. I'll just put it on your tab!"

"Hodgins, exactly how much money do you have?" Evidently, enough to furnish nineteen museums (plus a zoo!) with costly equipment as a 'favor.' He started to answer and Booth hastened to cut him off. "No, wait. Forget it. Just forget that I asked."

"Just the lab, then?"

"No." With a tab that high Booth would end up owing him. Yeah, see this is the way billionaires do business and this was not a trap he was interested in examining up close. God only knew what Hodgins would ask for if he called in a debt. This is why you don't talk to rich people. With a cynical smirk Booth pointed at the blue paper and declined. "That note, that's it. And that's still part of the first favor. All right?"

"But you said this is official—"

"Exactly. They're both official and I haven't called in the second marker yet. In fact, since they're both official now you sort of still owe me."

In other words, the debt for the Christmas debacle remained unsettled. Hodgins scowled very briefly before grumbling, "if I didn't know better I'd swear this is extortion."

Pointing backwards into the ookie zoo hiding the black widow spider, Booth pointed down at the note that had heralded her arrival. "It's for Bones, okay?"

"Well when you put it like that..." With a nod he pulled out another evidence intake form and started scribbling. "I'll get back to you later on this. For now, there's the particulates from our basement blanket to go through and Doctor Saroyan is threatening to deny overtime."

"You don't need overtime," Booth snorted.

"Zack does." Off Booth's shocked silence he explained. "He's a grad student intern, he gets paid a pittance. Why else do you think he lives above my garage?"

Well, when you put it that way...

"Right."

Vowing to start knocking items off his agenda as quickly as possible, Booth headed back across the lab and dipped into Angela's office to pick up news on the boy from the basement. As soon as he entered, he couldn't help noticing two subtle changes. First was the flowers which, instead of resting anywhere near her desk like yesterday, had now been banished by themselves on a table across the room. Far, far away.

Second, the pink rose painting she'd been working on yesterday now rested against a back wall, angled to pop out at whoever walked through the door. More miniature roses were crawling out of containment since the last time he saw it. Not quite benign, the pink painted blobs reached out beyond the basket to twine themselves down one leg of the painted table, looping back across themselves in a suffocating embrace that resembled strangler figs.

It was vaguely horrifying.

It was also glistening wet where the roses gripped, a freshly painted horror. And next to it rested a pallet smeared in pink, along with a paintbrush set into a glass of cloudy, almost mud-colored water.

"That's ... disturbing."

A taut little smile tugged her lips tight. "It seemed appropriate."

Art imitates life: the flowers and messages were cloying, clinging, strangling, and somehow the artist had managed to convey that with pink smears creeping down the canvas. He nodded agreement, captured by it until she spoke again.

"And while we're on the subject... How was your sleepover?" Booth veered his gaze immediately back to Angela, finding her sloe-eyed stare coming back at him rather avidly (and this, too, was quite disturbing).

"Ask Bones. Did you find anything on our kid?"

Somewhere in the mists of time Angela Montenegro had perfected the adolescent eye-roll, and then discovered the power of pairing it with a petulant little pout. That combination was the one-two sucker-punch calculated to bring down an opponent. Not many were immune to it. The tactic even worked on Bones occasionally, when she actually saw it, but this morning over the phone had granted his partner temporary immunity.

And that meant Angela was unsatisfied. "I did. She's no good at girl talk."

So she was trying the pout on him but Seeley Booth was the father of a five year old: impervious to pouts. Some things you just don't share with the kids.

"You know, maybe that's because there's nothing to talk about."

Even as he said it, an image of Bones bare to the bra flared softly white against the black of his inner eye. 'Define nothing.' He heard it whispered in that low, husking lilt laced with amusement that she so often employed, his own mind betraying him with ill-timed recollection. For not only could he see that gorgeous body but his mental fingers traced virtual skin, skimmed back up that arm again and what had happened between them that morning was hardly 'nothing.' Nothing less than a claim he'd made and his partner had accepted.

That we're in love.

And Angela was utterly suspicious. Standing, she sauntered closer and gave him the kind of once-over the new boyfriend gets from an over-protective parent. "If that's true then why are your ears red?"

He almost fell for it, almost reached up instinctively to feel the heat for himself and would have, had he not spent so much of his life perfecting the poker face. As it was, even steeped in memories of Brennan wrapping her whole heart and soul around him, Booth managed to hold Angela's steady stare with one of his own, an unflinching stance that he hoped would prove disappointing in the end.

It held her at bay but wasn't quite enough to get her to back off (probably because she could still see the flames flickering behind the blackout curtain). She was studying him with an artful eye, waiting for that tiny puff of air that might blow the crack in the curtain open a little wider.

"Bones slept in my bed," Booth finally purred. Watching her face brighten with anticipation, he blew the breath that would end her burning curiosity. "I slept on the couch."

Heaving a sigh, the artist conceded the inability to fluster him further left her in a state of knowing without proof. "You're no fun, either."

"Did you get an ID?"

"No." Once a romping, sexy tease was taken off the table she reverted back to professional in an instant. Taking up her printed facial reconstruction, Angela offered it to Booth along with an explanation. "Both NCIC and NCMEC came up empty going back ten years and spread out over 1000 miles. Hodgins is pretty sure he hasn't been there longer than two years, tops, but I figured ... why not."

"So he wasn't reported missing."

Considering that, glancing down at her unnamed masterpiece, Angela revealed she had been doing this job just long enough to have become aware of nuances. Booth was impressed when she offered an alternative. "Or maybe he was but the case was closed before he could be entered into the databases."

A missing persons case filed under 'found?' Maybe... "I'll have one of my agents check with the local police precincts."

Then if that didn't work the next step was to send them out with multiple copies of the facial reconstruction in hope that a door-to-door canvass of the neighborhood might spark some local recognition. "Can you email this to me?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, Angela."

"Hey wait, are you really not gonna tell me what happened last night?"

Really, no. Not one word. On the other hand, it was Angela who'd nudged him to stop stalling so maybe a tiny little bit of something wouldn't hurt. Tossing back a friendly wave, Booth retreated wearing charm smile number four. "I don't kiss and tell, Angela."

"I knew it!" She sounded sublimely satisfied.

As he spun back to pierce her with a warning glare she waved him away. "Mum's the word, I know."

It was genuine, that joyful promise of discretion, and hearing it brought a genuine chuckle out of Booth. Last on his current lab list ... his partner's phone.

From a few feet away it sounded like a low hum, the thrum of Zack Addy intoning his observations into what Booth presumed was a recorder. That guess received confirmation a moment later when Booth paused at the Bone Room door, watching two anthropologists bend solemnly over carefully arranged clusters of small, cleaned bones.

Nearest to him was Zack, frowning down at a measuring caliper resting over a rib while running his gloved fingertip over a rough, bubbly lump welling upwards in the middle. "Remodeling is also present on the posterior aspect of both ninth ribs. A bony callus is observed, similar in placement and staging to the others noted."

"Suggesting?" It was a leading question, the mentor challenging her protégé to tell her everything she already knew.

Replacing the small rib with a gentle stroke across the bump, he sighed. "A pair of adult hands gripping the chest bilaterally."

Squeezing tight.

Until they cracked.

"Posterior rib fractures in young children are highly specific for non-accidental trauma."

Which was the squinty way of saying someone hurt that child intentionally. An angry blow that would be framed as "an accident." You just make me so mad! Always the kid's fault.

He didn't want to think about that so Booth focused on his partner instead.

Brennan was standing furthest away from the door, infused with a moonlit glow from the lit table below. All this time she had yet to look up from the small chunk of bone floating in her palm. He hadn't learned all of the fancy names yet but Booth knew the basics by now — he could tell a femur from a fibula, for example (not that he would ever let her know that) — and the one she was holding now, the big chunky one, he knew formed the back of the foot. Heel bone. Calculus was the proper name, or something like that. He could not quite recall the exact name but if she said it, he would know which one she meant.

Zack surveyed the bones with mounting dismay. "But these fractures are all remodeled, they're not what killed him."

"No..." Glancing slowly from the rounded end to a series of x-rays pinned up on the lightboards, Brennan's eyes narrowed. She stepped closer to one of the magnifying lamps, taking the object of her intensifying scrutiny with her. "This doesn't feel right..."

Moving closer and bending to take a closer look, her intern frowned at the vague comment. Brennan's slender fingers moved rhythmically over the bone and Booth watched her, mesmerized, while Zack followed the path her fingers took against the curve.

"What is it?" Reaching cautiously, he pressed a finger into the bone as well but remained blank until she tipped the bone into his hand and invited him to lift it in comparison to the other matching bone from the other foot. Once he had both, Zack concentrated. "This one is lighter?"

"Perhaps we can persuade Doctor Saroyan to sign off on a full MDCT, otherwise I'll have to section it for histology." A vaguely impish tug of her lips hinted at insurrection, a fact that turned Zack's bemused gaze her way.

She'd tied up her hair since coming in here, most of it swept up messily off her long, slender neck and all Booth could think was... "I need the room."

Only he'd said it out loud.

And that was when they both noticed Booth standing in the doorway, a startled Brennan snatching the bone back and her half entranced companion turning to absorb the interruption. Replacing the normal bone and holding out his hand for the questionable one, Zack mumbled a plan. "I'll ask Doctor Saroyan. About the CT. That way you won't have to threaten histology slices."

He sensed Booth's bewildered stare and added, "she calls me Zackaroni." As if that were a deciding factor.

Edging warily past the FBI agent he still mostly feared, Zack vanished and that left Brennan holding herself back in a way that set Booth's teeth on edge. This ... was not going to be easy.

~Q~

Still Sorry: No really, I seriously hate this chapter. But you've all waited long enough so... this.

Scientific Note: Information regarding skeletal development of children, skeletal damage in child abuse cases, and visualization of 'bruising' in dry bones was obtained from the following sources:

1) White, Tim, Michael T. Black and Pieter A Folkens, Human Osteology, 3rd edition. Elsevier Academic Press, 2012.
Chapter 18: "Assessment of Age, Sex, Stature, Ancestry, and Identity of the Individual," pp 379-426.
Chapter 24: "Forensic Case Study - Child Abuse, the Skeletal Perspective," pp 507-512.

2) Baker, Brenda J, Tosha L Dupras and Matthew W Tocheri, The Osteology of Infants and Children. Texas A&M University Press, 2010.
Chapter 7: Chest and Shoulder Girdle, pp 93-102.
Chapter 9: Bones of the Hands and Feet, pp 124-153.

3) Haglund, William D and Marcella H Sorg, Forensic Taphonomy: The Postmortem Fate of Human Remains, CRC Press, 2006.
Chapter 20: "Cranial Bone Displacement as a Taphonomic Process in Potential Child Abuse Cases," pp 319-336

4) Brogdon, B G, Herman Vogel and John D McDowell, A Radiographic Atlas of Abuse, Torture, Terrorism and Inflicted Trauma. CRC Press, 2003.
Chapter 1: "Child Abuse," pp 3-44.

5) Brogdon, B G, et al. Child Abuse and its Mimics in Skin and Bone. CRC Press, October 2012.
Chapter 2: "Musculo-Skeletal Trauma in Infants and Children: Accidental or Inflicted?" pp 13-58.

6) Modic, Jan. Bone Bruise or Contusion, eHealthStar, evidence-based health articles. Published on 4 December 2013; reviewed 27 January 2014.
conditions / bruised-bone
www dot ehealthstar dot com / conditions / bruised-bone

7) American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons, Calcaneus (Heel Bone) Fractures. Reviewed January 2010.
orthoinfo dot aaos dot org / topic dot cfm?topic=A00524

8) Cattaneo C, et al. The detection of microscopic markers of hemorrhaging and wound age on dry bone: a pilot study. American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology; March 2010; vol 31(1):22-26.

9) Levy Angela D and H Theodore Harcke, Essentials of Forensic Imagining: A Text-Atlas, CRC Press, 2011.

10) Geijer, Mats and Georges Y El-Khoury, MDCT in the evaluation of skeletal trauma: principles, protocols and clinical applications, Emergency Radiology, Vol 13, Issue 1, pp 7-18. September 2006.

11) Adams, Bradley J and John E Byrd, Recovery, Analysis and Identification of Conmingled Human Remains, Humana Press, 2008.
Chapter 8: The Use of Radiology in Mass Fatality Events, p 145-182

And... All mistakes are mine.