Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! I was actually pleasantly surprised; for the most part, you guys took it very well. I only got one threat about a flock of rabid furbies...but anyway, to the few of you who did hate the last chapter, I hope you keep reading anyway. I have a plan. I promise. :-) I have a feeling that those of you who hate Brian are going to like how this chapter ends. Just to tell you, I mention something about Brian in this chapter that is first referenced in chapter three, I think. You don't need to go back and find it or anything, I just wanted to let you know it was there. Also, I stole one line from the show Will and Grace in this chapter, just to let you know. Okay, I guess that's it, go ahead and read now.


"We need to go talk to the Ribalds!"

"And say what! We think you're strange, therefore we think you killed five people!"

"Well, it makes more sense than staying here all day!"

"How does it make more sense! If we stay here we might be able to get an ID on the last body from the Refuge!"

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure today's the magic day for that! Because, after all, you've only had weeks to work on those remains; one more day is all you need to blow this case wide open!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right. Since actually attempting to do things accurately takes time, we should abandon that method and instead rely on what's convenient!"

"If we don't act quickly we could lose them! If they think we're on to them, they might take off again!"

"We don't even know if they did it! And, even if they do take off, is that so terrible? Is the FBI so inept that they would never be able to find them again!"

"Is the Jeffersonian so inept that they can't figure out who a pile of bones belong to! You've had weeks!"

"I have not had weeks! Identifying takes time, Booth! We can't just go on instinct! We're dealing with the loss of someone's life!"

"If the Ribalds get away, we'll be dealing with the loss of more lives! Christ, Bones…"

"DON'T CALL ME BONES!"

"WILL BOTH OF YOU JUST SHUT UP!" Hodgins shouted from across the room that was serving as their lab. Temperance and Booth stopped shouting and stood still, staring at one another.

Angela sat at another table with her face in her hands. It was 11:00am, and Booth and Temperance had been at it since they had met up this morning at 7:45. "If all the two of you are going to do is scream, can you do us all a favor and just go back to ignoring one another?" she moaned.

Booth and Tempe stood silently for another moment, sizing one another up.

"Fine," Temperance said, coldly. "I need to work with the remains, anyway."

"Like it'll help," Booth muttered.

Temperance flared again. "Oh, you're right, what was I thinking? It would be much more productive to jump to conclusions and go charge two possibly innocent people with multiple murders!"

"I didn't say anything about charging them, I just said we should talk to them! God, would it kill you to listen once in a while, Bones!"

"Don't call me…"

Angela cut them both off when she threw her pen across the room. "THAT'S IT! I've had enough!" She turned to Hodgins. "You stay here with Tempe and work on the damn remains, and I'll shut Booth up by taking him to the Ribalds." Hodgins nodded, and Angela looked at Booth and Tempe. "Will that pacify you both?"

Booth and Tempe regarded one another with steely glares. "Fine," they both muttered.

Angela threw her hands in the air as she followed Booth to the door. "Why can't you two just climb on top of one another and get it over with already!" she groaned. Tempe and Booth both ignored her.


Booth was quiet as Angela drove them to the Ribalds' house. She was surprised when he had offered no objection to her driving, but his sulking manner made her wonder if he was even really noticing. She sighed, shaking her head. "Why can't you just apologize, tell her that you were jealous, and move on?"

"That's not the point anymore," he answered, his voice monotone, still staring out the passenger side window.

"Then what is the point?" she asked. She did her best to keep her tone gentle; she wasn't used to having heart to heart conversations with Booth.

Booth shook his head. Apparently he wasn't up for a heart to heart either.

They pulled up at the coffeehouse a few minutes later, and walked over to the Ribalds' front door, where they knocked and waited. Booth shifted from sulking into FBI mode as they stood on the front steps.

The door opened less than a minute later, and a slightly flustered looking Charlie Ribald stepped out. "I didn't think they'd send you to look at this," he said, his face showing that he was perplexed. "Honestly, since nothing was taken, I wasn't really expecting them to send anyone. Things are so lax around here…"

Booth and Angela stared at him, confused. Charlie noted their expressions, and said in surprise, "you are here because of the break in, aren't you?"

"What break in?" Booth inquired.

"Last night; we went to the shop this morning to open up and someone had pried open the lock. The door was still open when we went in. We called the police, but nothing seemed to be stolen. The register still had money in it; the items in the shop seemed undisturbed. An officer came out, but told us that everything seemed to be fine and that we should call if we found that anything was missing."

Booth stared at the man for a moment. "Someone broke in and didn't steal anything?"

Charlie shrugged. "Doesn't make any sense to me, either. That's why I'm so surprised they sent you; other than being strange, it's barely a crime."

Booth nodded. "Do you mind if we walk around the shop a little bit?" Something about the situation piqued Booth's interest.

"Of course, of course," Charlie said. "Go ahead, check out whatever you want."

Booth and Angela did just that. The shop was two stories high, and they searched both floors, including storage rooms. Nothing seemed to be out of place. They were about to leave when Booth noted a door near the entrance. "Where does this lead?" he asked. The door had a painting hanging on it, and it was painted the same color as the wall. It was easy to miss.

"The basement," Charlie said. "But there's nothing in it that a criminal would be interested in. It floods, so we don't store anything down there."

Booth nodded, absently. "I'd like to look anyway, if you don't mind."

Charlie assured him that he didn't, and they cleared the space of the few objects that were sitting in front of the door. Booth pulled it opened and found himself staring down a grimy concrete staircase that ran along the wall. At the bottom of the stairs, the basement extended in such a way that it was not visible from above; to see what was in the basement, you had to walk down into it.

Booth didn't have to walk down. A strong stench from below told him that something was not right, and he had a good idea what it was. He turned to Angela. "Call the recovery squints," he said, grimly. "And tell them to bring gloves."


Temperance and Hodgins arrived quickly, and headed down into the basement. Kate and Charlie had closed the shop for the day due to the fact that they potentially had a dead body in their basement, and all that was left now were the two teenage girl employees and the curly haired woman, all who were cleaning up from the small amount of business they had done that day before leaving.

Booth followed after the two squints while Angela stayed on the main floor, talking with Charlie and Kate, answering the few questions of the curious employees, and watching to make sure that no one who wasn't supposed to be there came in.

The smell in the basement was sickening, and the three who descended the stairs didn't take long to figure out why. In the far left corner, at the very back of the room, away from the stairs, lay the body of a young girl. She was bent at an unnatural angle, and it was obvious that she had been brutally and mercilessly beaten. Sprinkled around her was limestone, an obvious attempt to cut down on the smell of death that permeated the room. She hadn't been there long; she had just barely begun to decompose.

Temperance walked over to the body. She wasn't used to dealing with skin, but she knew enough to gauge that this girl had been dead for five to seven days. Her body had begun to break down, but her features had not completely faded; it wouldn't be hard to recreate her face for an ID.

As Temperance looked over the body, Booth stood frozen near the foot of the staircase. The smell was horrible, and scene was gruesome. Although he had been in the military and was used to seeing death, or as used to seeing it as one could be, the scene still bothered him. Even he could tell that the girl couldn't have been much older than seventeen. His stomach turned. The beating she had sustained had left her looking barely human. His vision began to blur slightly.

Temperance turned around and saw Booth's face fade white. Quickly, she stood up, snapped off her gloves, and instructed Hodgins to begin taking pictures of the scene. Hodgins nodded numbly, fascinated by the macabre scene. She reached Booth in a few quick strides and placed her hand on his elbow as she began to lead him from the basement.

He went with her without argument, his brain barely registering what was going on. The scene had gotten to him. She walked him out into the parking lot where she instructed him to take a deep breath. He greedily sucked in the clean air.

She touched his arm gently as he began to calm. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice tender.

He nodded numbly, his brain still reeling over the horror that had been the scene in the basement.

"Maybe you should sit down. I can get you some water…?" her tone was a far cry from the angry screams they had been exchanging only two hours earlier.

"I'm fine," he said as his senses slowly returned. He began to register what was happening, and began to curse himself for his weakness. He grew angry with himself for his inability to handle what he had seen. And, somehow the fact that his weakness had shown in front of Temperance only made him angrier.

"I really think you should sit down," Temperance said. Her tone was slightly forceful.

Booth's frustration with himself came out when he spoke to Temperance. "I'm fine," he said, firmly.

"You don't look fine, Booth."

"Well, I am fine," he replied, growing more frustrated.

She sighed. "Why can't you just swallow your pride and listen to me? You need to sit down!"

Booth's tone turned as cold as January snow. "I don't need you to save me, Dr. Brennan," he said and he pulled his arm from her grasp.

She stared at him for a moment, indignant. She had only been trying to help. She shook her head, turned on her heel, and walked back to the basement.

Booth stood in the parking lot with his hands on his hips, watching her walk away as a car pulled up in the shop parking lot. A man climbed out of the driver's seat. Booth glanced at him as he walked up toward the door to the shop, not bothering to tell him that they were closed.

The shop door opened a second before the man reached it, and the brunette who made drinks, Booth thought he remembered her name was Abby, stepped out.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," she said, smiling politely. Her voice was smooth and soothing.

The man smiled at her. "Oh," he said, glancing at his watch. "I thought you were opened today."

The girl closed the door behind her as she stepped out, twirling her keys in her hand. "We were, but we had to close up early." She glanced at Booth. "We had an unexpected problem that had to be dealt with."

Booth smiled at her tact. The girl then excused herself and began to walk past the man on the steps, toward her car which was apparently parked on the street near the parking lot.

The man followed after her, and Booth noted the way he stared after her as she retreated. He shook his head. Even though the man was obvious over 35, overweight, and had thinning hair, it seemed that he was still hoping he had a shot with the pretty, slim, twenty year old. Booth almost chuckled. All men were the same.

Booth stopped watching the pair as they left, and instead turned his attention back to the door, thinking about Temperance. He began to walk back inside, when he heard the man and the girl speaking behind him.

"Excuse me, miss? I think you dropped this."

Booth turned and saw the overweight man standing beside the young girl. He was holding out a five dollar bill.

She glanced at the older man. "Oh, um, no, I don't think I did," she answered as she began walking away again. She reached her car a few steps later, and the man was still behind her.

"Yeah, it fell right out of your pocket when you were walking," he insisted.

The girl smiled politely again. "Thank you, but I don't think it's mine." She climbed into her car.

"Yes, it is," the man insisted.

"Why don't you just keep it?" the girl suggested, and with that she turned on her car and sped away.

Booth watched as the man tucked the money into his pocket. He turned, saw Booth looking at him, and shrugged. "Worth a shot," he said. Booth nodded, thinking it was the lamest pickup attempt that he had ever seen, and watched as the man folded himself back into his own car and drove away.

Booth was about to walk back inside when Angela walked out. Hodgins and Temperance were close behind her. "C'mon," Angela said. "We're headed back to the lab. The remains are being sent over so we can ID them."

Booth nodded, and Hodgins explained that the police had already been alerted to the situation. Since the FBI were already there, they were free to take the remains and work toward an ID. They would question the Ribalds and look around for themselves later that day.

Booth nodded and followed Angela back to the car. He climbed into the driver's seat and watched Temperance and she and Hodgins climbed into Hodgins' car. Booth recalled their exchange in the parking lot as he turned the key in the ignition. Temperance hadn't even looked at him when she had walked out, and Booth mentally cursed himself.

Why had he been so stupid? Why hadn't he been able to just let her comfort him? 'Because that means your weak,' his mind answered. 'Because you don't need her to save you.' Booth mentally nodded to his own reasoning as he pulled onto the road, but, of course, he knew it was all a lie. He wanted her to save him.


They worked for the rest of the day on the new remains. Since the body was not yet fully decomposed, they had very little trouble with the girl's face. By 6:00pm, they had her ID. Her name was Amy Collins. She was fifteen when she had gone missing, only two weeks earlier.

Angela, Hodgins, Booth, and Temperance stared at the screen. "She was from New York," Angela noted. "And she was last seen at 11:00am."

"Disappeared in broad daylight," Hodgins said, softly. "Just like all the others. Whoever is doing this, he's bold. How is he getting them all in the middle of the day without anyone noticing?"

No one had an answer to that question, just as they had no answer as to why Chincoteague was the place where all the bodies ended up.

Temperance read Amy's address from the screen. "Why does that address seem so familiar?" she asked, half to herself.

"It's on the same street as the convention center," Hodgins answered. "There was a forensic sciences conference there a year ago. Brian went to it, remember?"

Temperance nodded. "That's it," she said. And then Angela and Hodgins froze.

"That's an annual conference," Hodgins said.

Temperance glanced up at him. "Yeah, so?"

Angela picked up the ball. "The conference was held in Annapolis two years ago. I'm pretty sure it was held somewhere in Pennsylvania a few years back…"

Booth looked at them, seeing where this was going. "Are you telling me the times of death for our victims match with the locations and times of the forensic sciences conferences?"

Hodgins nodded. "But it's not just that." He turned to Angela. "You know how you get on me for my "conspiracy theory" as you call it about Brian's extra vacation time?"

Angela nodded.

"Well, part of the reason why I think that is because he gets picked to go to this conference every year."

Booth's head snapped up, at full attention. "You're telling me that Brian was in the same location as all of our victims when they went missing?"

"Well, no, not all of our victims…" Hodgins said. "There's never been a conference on Chincoteague, so he wasn't anywhere near Tammy and Vince."

Angela stepped in, turning her head toward Tempe. "But didn't you tell me that Brian told you he loves Chincoteague? That he used to vacation here as a kid and now he comes back for at least one week every year?"

Temperance shook her head. "It's a coincidence," she answered.

"Odd coincidence," Booth said. "And you yourself said our killer might not live here…"

"Brian isn't a murderer!" Temperance cut in.

Booth stared at her smugly. "Now, Dr. Brennan, let's not make any snap judgments."


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