Disclaimer: I do not own Bones.

Summary: Booth and Brennan make a bet and everyone is a caricature of him or herself. Booth and Brennan aren't heroes.

Too Far

"This is sick," Angela said quietly.

"This is an intellectual experiment."

"Angela's right. This is a bit extreme, even for you two." Jack cocked his head as he looked at Brennan, then Booth.

Booth shrugged. "Nothing wrong with a little race."

"It's not even a race!"

"Brennan," Angela said quietly. "You have a timer."

"Thanks for reminding me." Booth pressed a button and set the device on a counter where it tick, tick, ticked.

"Adolescent female, between the ages of thirteen and seventeen," Brennan narrated, her gloved hands hovering over the remains.

"At least sixteen," Booth corrected, sliding something gold off the left hand. "She has a class ring."

"Average height, slightly underweight." Brennan had her tape measure.

"Class of two-thousand and seven." Booth turned the ring in his hands.

"Caucasian. Maybe northern European. Brown hair."

"She sang in the school choir, or band." There was a musical note to the side of the stone.

"Identifying childhood fracture of the left femur." A healed yet obvious break was visible where the flesh had rotted.

"Initials were L M K."

"Date of death approximately ten to twelve days ago," Brennan concluded.

"She could have been missing a lot longer than that," Booth reminded her.

"She might not even be on the missings list," Brennan argued.

"Well, damn," Booth said playfully, looking up at her. "That would spoil our whole bet."

"I'm ready to make a call," Brennan said at last, seizing her copy of the missing persons list for the DC area.

"So am I."

"Checking for appropriate ages."

"Year of birth…"

"Referencing ID photos."

"Checking initials…"

"I've almost got it…"

"Leisel Meredith Keanes!" Booth shouted triumphantly, in the voice that most reserved for 'hallelujah's. "Stop the clock."

Jack hit the button and his hand recoiled quickly as though burned.

"Time?" Booth demanded, eyes alight.

"Two minutes, thirty-seven seconds." He looked ill.

"That's not fair!" Brennan protested. "I was about to say the name. You just talk faster than I do."

"You talk plenty fast." Booth grinned. "You're just sore that I thought of the ring." And he tapped the faux emerald, winking at Brennan.

"I'll contact the authorities," Brennan said gloomily.

"Oh no you don't. first, dinner. You remember. Loser pays." He flashed the ring again, missings person profile of Leisel Meredith Keanes forgotten, dropped clumsily next to her decaying corpse.

"Stop it!" Angela shouted. Brennan turned. Booth's fingers curled around the gold band.

"You guys really took this too far," Jack accused quietly. Zack had said nothing the whole time, but his eyes were refracting just a little too much light.

"It's just a bet," Booth assured them.

"It's not just a bet," Zack said softly, abruptly, looking at his hands. "Leisel Keanes was family."

"Of you?"

"Of somebody, Agent Booth." Zack glared up defiantly before standing and leaving the room.

"What's everybody so upset about?" Brennan wondered aloud.

Jack stood quietly next to Angela. "You two went a little too far this time."

"We identified the victim, didn't we?"

"And proved the FBI superior in most respects."

"Honey," Angela said pleadingly. "There's crossing the line. And then, there's obliterating it." She and Jack glanced at each other, then followed in the direction of Zack's retreat.

Brennan looked over at Booth. "We didn't do anything unorthodox, did we?"

Booth sighed, shook his head. "Not in my book, Bones. Maybe your squint-squad's just a little too sensitive."