Hello my lovely readers and Happy Thanksgiving Eve to everyone in the US! Thank you all for the great feedback on the last chapter. It is so greatly appreciated!

This chapter is very AU, meaning not a whole lot of case talk. You will notice that I have mostly skipped a very popular episode, but I had good reason. First and foremost... S3 Booth was a douche of epic proportions at times. The Boy in the Time Capsule episode was full of asshole comments, and the thought of going through to correct every single one of them made me want to weep with exhaustion. So... I skipped the action and focused on what was important. I also changed up that very poignant Brainy Smurf conversation. Hope you like!

Also - I never noticed before writing this episode that Zack talks about how he once had a glove like Michael Jackson. (first lab scene) Much like his S1 comment about looking like a marionette in a windstorm when he dances. Foreshadowing, anyone?

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Chapter 12

Their next case took them to a local high school, where a set of skeletal remains had been found in a twenty-year-old time capsule. The victim turned out to be a former student named Roger Dillon, who had been a member of the graduating class that had buried the time capsule. He had gotten into an argument with a close friend over money, and his friend, Gil Bates, had lost control of his temper and swung a shovel at him. Roger had died quickly of exsanguination, and Gil had panicked and hidden the body in the time capsule.

Interviewing suspects had been like a slow-motion class reunion, except that Booth and Brennan hadn't known any of them either then or now. The case hit close to home for both partners, though for different reasons. There was a lot of talk amongst the team regarding the social constructs of high school, and Booth couldn't help but feel a little out of place. The majority of the squints had been bullied or teased during high school, much as Roger Dillon had been. It had been a long while since Booth had felt like an outsider among them, and he didn't relish feeling that way again. When they found out about his athleticism and active social life during high school, they assumed he was one of 'those guys.'

Brennan could sense his discomfort, but she didn't bring it up until after they'd closed the case. She had been reliving some of her more uncomfortable memories from those years as well, and it wasn't a part of her life that she enjoyed remembering. Aside from the obvious home issues, Brennan had been socially awkward and unpopular as a teenager. She'd been withdrawn and quiet for the sake of self-preservation, and her advanced intellect had intimidated more people than it had impressed.

After securing Gil Bates' confession to the murder of Roger Dillon, Booth and Brennan decided to stop for supper at the diner. They sat across from one another at their usual table, but they were each a little preoccupied with their own thoughts. By the time either of them spoke, they'd been sitting in contemplative silence for a good ten minutes.

"Are you okay?" Booth asked quietly. Brennan tilted her head to the side thoughtfully.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? You've been a little...off...over the past few days. Was it the case? I didn't bring it up because it didn't seem like you wanted to talk about...whatever it was."

"No, I'm alright. High school wasn't really the best time for anyone, I guess," he replied, slightly evasive. Brennan frowned in confusion, wondering if there were things about his past that she still didn't know. The prospect intrigued her.

"Well… Do you want to talk about it? I mean, I told you one of my embarrassing stories. I'm sure I can think of more if you want. Everyone has things they'd rather forget."

"You're not really still bothered by Brainy Smurf though, are you?" Booth smiled, recalling her Secret Santa story.

"Well, no, not really. That was fairly minor, all things considered," she shrugged. Booth nodded in agreement, and his smile dissolved as he recalled the things he'd recently learned about her teenage years. She watched his expression change, and her brow wrinkled in concern. "What is it?"

"You know I wasn't really 'one of those guys,' right? I mean, I know what it looks like from the outside, but…"

"You weren't really a jock? You played basketball, football, and hockey, Booth." Her tone was light, and he knew she was trying to get him to smile.

"I played sports, yeah, but… I wasn't a total asshole like the kids who were hard on you and the rest of the squints."

"I never thought you were," she assured him quickly. "Is that what's been bothering you?"

"Maybe…" He pushed his food around on his plate for a moment before continuing. "Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed playing sports, but the only reason I tried so hard to fit in was so people would think my life was normal. I learned how to charm other kids and even adults into missing what was right in front of their faces. Being an athlete gave me something to blame my injuries on, and no one gave the bruises a second thought."

"Booth," Brennan said quietly, her voice heavy with sympathy.

"By the time I got to high school, we lived with Pops, but people always wanted to know why, you know? They'd ask if my parents were dead or in jail... It was easier to play the golden boy than let people know what my life was really like."

"It was a defense mechanism," she nodded. "It was how you coped, and there's nothing wrong with that. I did it too, just not in the same way. Instead of sports and popularity contests, I buried myself in my books and schoolwork and just… tried to lay low."

"Yeah. I did things I'm not proud of though, mostly for the sake of keeping my cover and blending in. Now I can't help but wonder how many other kids I knew had a hard time at home too and chose to deal with it the way you did. I wish I'd paid more attention, I wish I'd spoken up when I saw someone being bullied..."

"Everyone has done things they wish they hadn't, Booth. That doesn't make you a bad person or one of those guys. It means you've evolved."

He smiled at his wife, grateful for her insight and acceptance. They finished their meals and flagged down their waitress for the check, but he stopped her from leaving the table after they'd paid.

"One other thing, Bones…" He paused, and she looked at him expectantly. Booth reached into the pocket of his green canvas jacket and removed a small blue figurine. Brennan gave him an odd look, wondering why he was carrying around a Smurf.

"That's the wrong one," she said flatly, biting back a smile.

"I don't think so. Smurfette was a total airhead, I mean… Let's face it, she really only had her looks. You're far better than Smurfette. You have your looks and so much more."

They shared a lingering smile, disappearing as they often did into their own private bubble. The noises from the kitchen and voices of the staff and other patrons faded from their awareness. Booth pushed the tiny Brainy Smurf into her palm and closed her fingers around it. Brennan lowered her eyes to the small figurine and chuckled softly.

She intended to place it right next to Jasper the Pig.

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Brennan winced as the smell of raw turkey assailed her nostrils. Though she'd been more than willing to roast the turkey, she had been grateful when Booth had volunteered to take care of that part of their Thanksgiving meal, especially since cooking meat wasn't something she enjoyed. They were cooking a veritable feast, in spite of the fact that their only guests would be Parker, Hank, Hodgins, and Angela. Cam and Zack had been invited as well, but they both had family obligations for the holidays.

Brennan had been feeling somewhat strange for the past few days. She seemed to have lost her appetite to a perpetually upset stomach, her head had been aching by noon each day, and no amount of sleep seemed to rid her of her fatigue. Booth had noticed, of course, and he'd immediately gone overboard in trying to take care of her. He insisted on carpooling to work, mostly so that he could force her to keep reasonable hours at the lab. He plied her with unsolicited food, water, and ibuprofen. He'd even given her a couple of massages before bed.

"Bones, why don't you let me take over with the mashed potatoes," he urged, catching her in a yawn. "Or at least take the cutting board to the table and do it sitting down."

"I'm fine, Booth. I just didn't sleep well."

"I know, that's why you should sit down."

Brennan sighed, unable to summon the energy to argue with him and knowing it would be a wasted effort anyway. She transferred her work station to the other side of the bar and took a seat on one of the stools. As she methodically chopped the potatoes, her mind wandered as it so often did lately.

She knew that what she was feeling was most likely the physical manifestation of an elevated stress level, but she couldn't seem to work through it as she usually did. Apart from the typical holiday stress, she was uncomfortably aware that this week marked the passing of one year since she and Hodgins had been buried alive. It bothered her that there had been little to no progress on the case. No matter how many times the evidence had been analyzed, there simply wasn't anything conclusive to lead them to the Gravedigger's true identity. She knew that Hodgins was struggling with that as well, particularly on the anniversary of their kidnapping. It was the primary reason she had extended an invitation for Thanksgiving dinner, aside from the fact that neither he nor Angela had plans with family. Hodgins' parents were deceased, and Angela's father was in the middle of a concert tour in Europe.

As if to inadvertently tip the scale even further against Brennan's ability to manage her stress, Booth had managed to track down the last three foster parents on the list. They were all alive, though none of them were still fostering, and none were still in the Chicago area. Brennan had felt slightly relieved at that news, but she'd still been left with a mess of emotional fallout to muddle through. She had so many questions for Max, but there was simply no way for her to ask them while he was in jail. There was no such thing as privacy, even in their 'private' visitation room. Brennan was also fairly certain that he'd never give her honest answers, even if she were able to confront him at some point. In a way, she dreaded knowing the truth nearly as much as she hated not having the full story. It was an uncomfortable position.

She and her father had been attempting to rebuild their relationship over the last few couple of months, but being around him was still difficult. She'd long since gotten out of the habit of pretending things were okay when they weren't, and having to put on that facade for Max made her feel as though she were regressing in her own personal evolution. Though she might still be capable of faking normalcy, she couldn't help but feel that it was wrong.

Booth knew the full extent of her worries, and he had been making a diligent effort to keep the lines of communication open. Brennan had kept her promise not to shut him out, and for that he was extremely thankful. He hated to see her so overwhelmed by everything. She stubbornly refused many of his offers to do something that might help her, but he didn't take offense. Being stubborn was in her nature, and he'd even come to love that about her. He would only panic if she were to suddenly become complacent.

Thanksgiving was an enjoyable affair for all. Brennan did her best to keep her focus in the present, and she was pleased that everyone seemed to have a great time. Hank had planned to stay with them for a few days, and Parker would be spending the night as well. Angela begged Brennan to go shopping on Black Friday, but Booth nixed that plan before Brennan could even open her mouth to respond. While that might have irritated her under normal circumstances, she was actually relieved for his intervention. When it came to shopping, Angela had a habit of nagging her into submission, and there was simply no way Brennan could find the energy for a full day of shopping.

"Are you alright, Bren?" Angela asked softly as they put away the leftovers. There would be enough for two more meals, even if everyone took a plate home.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. I'm not even going to whine about the shopping because now that I get a good look at you, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't make it through the first store. What's going on?"

"I'm alright. Just tired."

"Well, you barely ate anything… Oh my God, Bren. Are you pregnant?" Her eyes were wide as dinner plates, and Brennan was grateful that she had at least asked the question in a low volume.

"No, Ange. I just haven't been feeling well lately."

"Are you sure you're not-"

"I'm sure. My period was last week. It's just stress."

"About the… anniversary?" she said awkwardly. "Jack's having trouble too."

"That's part of it, I guess. I'll be fine though. The holidays are always busy and stressful." Brennan shrugged, hoping Angela would drop it. It wasn't that she resented her for asking, but there was simply too much on her mind that she wasn't able to share with Angela. Maybe someday she could tell her friend more about her past, about what she suspected her father had done… However, that day was not today. Brennan needed to determine how to handle it on a personal level before she could discuss it with anyone other than Booth.

Angela sighed and pursed her lips at Brennan's easy dismissal of her issues. Sure, the holiday season was a stressful time for many people, but she couldn't recall Brennan ever being this affected by it. She understood the added upset of the Gravedigger anniversary, but she couldn't help but feel that there was more to it than Brennan was admitting. Whatever the case, Angela obligingly changed the subject, hoping that Brennan would open up when she was ready.

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On the following Monday evening, Booth arrived at the Jeffersonian to pick up his wife and was surprised to find her asleep on her office couch. He sighed in relief as he gazed at her beautiful, untroubled face. The inverted 'V' between her brows had been an almost permanent fixture lately, and he was glad to see her face without it.

Cam appeared in the doorway, but Booth quickly held up a hand to stop her from talking. He motioned for her to give him a moment, and she waited patiently as he pulled Brennan's throw blanket from the back of one of her chairs and draped it over her carefully. He bent to place a soft kiss to her forehead before leaving her office.

"What's up?" Booth asked, closing Brennan's door quietly behind him.

"We've got a body," Cam replied, glancing sympathetically through the window toward the back of Brennan's couch.

"Damn it. This is the first I've seen her sleep so soundly in more than a week, Cam. Are you sure she needs to go?"

"No, the techs said it's pretty fresh, but I know Dr. Brennan prefers to be at the crime scenes…"

"She can look at the body when it gets back to the lab," Booth said quickly.

"You sure she'll be alright with that?"

"If she's not, then she can be mad at me later. Right now, she needs to sleep." Booth gestured for her to lead the way out of the lab, and he decided to ride with her to the scene.

"So what's going on, Booth? I know something's up. She looks exhausted, she doesn't seem to eat anything unless you force her to, she hardly speaks to anyone voluntarily… And that's just at work. I can't imagine she's doing any better at home." Cam's expression was full of concern, and Booth sighed, choosing his words carefully.

"She's under a lot of stress at the moment, Cam. It's been a year since the Gravedigger kidnapped her and Hodgins, and we still don't have any real leads. Her dad and her brother disappeared right before Christmas last year, and now she's going into another holiday season without them. Russ is still MIA, and Max is in jail. She and her dad are trying to patch things, but it's not been easy for either of them… And I think she probably wants to just bury herself in her work, but I haven't been letting her do that." He looked a little guilty, but he still believed he was doing the right thing by keeping her from barricading herself in the lab.

"Well, all of that would certainly stress me out… You're right to stay on top of her about her work hours. Even if she doesn't appreciate that right now, she will when she's in her right mind," Cam assured him. Booth grunted in agreement. "I have to admit, I was beginning to wonder…"

"She's not pregnant," Booth chuckled. "I thought the same thing at first, but she's not. It's just stress. She'll come around once she gets things sorted out in her mind."

The crime scene did in fact turn out to be more in line with Cam's specialty than Brennan's, and Booth was glad he'd made the right choice to let her sleep. The body had been found on a construction site, and apart from the evidence of rodent predation, the only thing that stood out was some damage to the victim's knees. Cam suggested the crime might be mob-related, and Booth made a note to check with the other department heads at the Bureau once he had an ID.

When they returned to the Jeffersonian, Cam headed down to the loading bay to help with the body, and Booth made his way back to Brennan's office. He smiled at the sight of her still asleep on the sofa, but he knew she would insist on doing a preliminary exam at the very least.

"Bones," he said softly, smoothing her hair away from her face in slow, gentle strokes. "Wake up, baby." She frowned and moaned a little as she struggled to wake, and her eyes were slightly bloodshot when she opened them.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, it's me. There's a body coming in any minute. It's pretty fleshy, but I figured you would want to take a look."

Brennan nodded sleepily and stifled a yawn. She managed to sit up, stretching to relieve the aches in her muscles, and Booth's arms were around her almost instantly. She smiled against his shoulder, returning the hug with a contented sigh. The nap had helped, but she still felt groggy.

"Where was the body found?" she asked, standing up to adjust her clothing.

"At a construction site. Cam should be bringing it in pretty soon," he replied. Brennan slipped into her lab coat and pulled her hair into a ponytail. He couldn't help but feel a little relieved that she hadn't taken him to task for not waking her.

Once the initial x-rays were completed, Brennan found Zack in the autopsy room studying an image of the victim's chest x-ray. Although it was now quite late, the lab was buzzing with activity, and Brennan wasn't at all surprised to see him still at work. He seemed to be a permanent fixture there now.

The victim was middle-aged male who had been dead for approximately three days. The cause of death had been a single stab wound through the sternum, which was no easy feat and implied that the killer had to have been very strong. A small gemstone had been found on the body, and Hodgins was able to identify it as jade. His next task was to identify some particulates Cam had gathered from the victim's wounds. What Cam had originally taken as evidence of knee-capping turned out to be something else. The victim's patellae had been surgically removed.

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Booth waited patiently until Brennan was ready to leave, and he was pleased when she only spent a half an hour with the remains. When they got home, Brennan retrieved that day's mail from the mailbox and followed him inside. She had barely begun to sift through the envelopes when she heard a knock at the front door. She tossed the mail onto the kitchen table and watched as Booth opened the door.

"Amy," Brennan said, surprised at the appearance of Russ's girlfriend. Amy smiled awkwardly, and Booth motioned her into the house, closing the door behind her.

"Hi… I'm sorry to show up so late, but it was the first time I could step away," Amy said apologetically. "I don't have a lot of time, but I was wondering if you've heard from Russ or...maybe even know where he might be?" Booth and Brennan exchanged a glance.

"No, I'm sorry. I haven't heard from Russ since last Christmas," Brennan replied sadly. Amy was clearly disappointed but not surprised by her answer.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you. I lost your number, and I only remembered where you lived because we were here for the wedding… Hayley's in the hospital again. They finally figured out what's been causing her so much trouble," Amy sniffled. "She has cystic fibrosis. Her lungs are in bad shape, and now her liver… She just keeps asking for Russ, and I hate having to tell her that I don't know when he'll be coming home."

"He hasn't contacted you at all in almost a year?" Booth asked. Brennan went back to the kitchen to retrieve her phone from her messenger bag, but her eye was caught by the stack of mail she'd left on the table. The largest envelope now bore a red stain that hadn't been there five minutes ago.

"He's sent us a few letters," Amy admitted. "They're always postmarked from different places, and he never gives any clues about where he might be. He just writes to let us know that he's safe and that he misses us."

"Amy, I'm going to give you the number of Dr. Leo Goetz. He's the premier authority on cystic fibrosis in the country," Brennan told her, writing down not only the specialist's number, but also her own as well.

"I can't afford that," she replied, shaking her head.

"No, Leo and I are friends. He'd do it for me as a favor, no charge. I'm going to give him a call and tell him to expect you." Brennan glanced back at the envelope, and this time Booth followed her gaze. He frowned as their eyes met, but neither of them mentioned it or moved any closer to the table.

"I don't know what to say… Thank you," Amy said, sniffling again.

"You're welcome," Brennan smiled. "As for Russ, I think you're better off talking to Dad."

"I understand," she nodded. "Thank you again. I'm really sorry to show up so late."

"It's no problem. Give me a call when Hayley is well enough for a visitor, okay?"

"I will. Thank you."

Booth waved goodbye and closed the door behind her. When he turned around, Brennan was already taking a closer look at the bloody envelope. She pulled a pair of gloves out of her bag and opened the envelope very carefully.

"Easy, Bones. Maybe we should wait."

"For what? I examine evidence all the time." He nodded and watched as she emptied the contents onto the table. A plastic film had provided a partial barrier between the envelope and a bloodstained piece of linen. The linen was folded in half, and it had been printed with an image that reminded Brennan of a seal. It was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it. She was more interested in what the linen concealed; two bloody, rock-like bones.

"What the hell are those?" Booth said anxiously.

"Patellae. I'm pretty sure they came from our victim." Booth cursed under his breath and was immediately on the phone, barking orders at some unfortunate junior agent who had apparently chosen the wrong day to work late. Brennan's hands shook slightly as she placed the bones, envelope, plastic, and linen into separate evidence bags. She scowled in protest when heard him demanding that a couple of forensic techs make a trip to their home to pick up the evidence and take it to the Jeffersonian, but he ignored her, tacking on an order for a surveillance agent to park outside of their house for the night.

"Don't give me that look, Bones. We're both exhausted, and it doesn't hurt to let someone else deliver the evidence," he said quickly after he'd ended his call.

"And the surveillance? You don't think that's going a little overboard?" she asked, stubbornly ignoring the troubling theories that were already running circles in her mind.

"Do I really need to remind you of the last time a killer found out where someone on our team lives?"

Brennan's mouth snapped shut as she recalled the disastrous events surrounding the death of Howard Epps. In that situation, it had been extremely beneficial to have FBI surveilling Angela's street and apartment building. She sighed and nodded, agreeing to let it go. Once the evidence had been picked up and Booth had spoken to the agent parked outside, they went to bed. Although they already had a habit of sleeping in one another's arms, Booth held her a little tighter that night, and in spite of everything, Brennan slept.

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Predictably, Booth insisted on carpooling to work the next morning. When they arrived at the lab, they found that Cam had already made some progress on the autopsy, and the victim's patellae were waiting for Brennan's analysis. When Booth explained how they acquired the bones, Angela was appalled.

"Somebody sent you human kneecaps in the mail? That is like… blech." Her expression conveyed her disgust.

"Zack says they're from our victim," Cam announced, her hands deep in the victim's abdominal cavity.

"These patellae are unusually worn," Brennan stated as she studied the bones.

"Worn from what?" Booth asked.

"It's hard to say definitively, but I'd say the man did a lot of kneeling."

"Wait a minute… I've seen that before," Angela said, focusing on the bloody linen wrapping. "That symbol looks familiar, like it's from some kind of seal."

"I thought so too, but I couldn't place it," Brennan replied.

"Okay, Bones, I need to go, but you stay here, alright? If you need to go somewhere, call me."

"Why?"

"Mr. Kneecaps has your home address?" Cam offered, her tone indicating that this should be rather obvious.

"We can't freak out every time someone googles us," Brennan shrugged.

"Cam, she goes nowhere alone," Booth commanded, prompting his wife to roll her eyes.

"Cam, don't listen to him-"

"Cam, who are you more afraid of, me or her?"

"Booth!" Brennan admonished him, nearly shouting.

"Whoa!" Cam held up her hands to silence them. "So this is what it's like to be a kindergarten teacher." Laughter from the open doorway alerted them to an eavesdropper.

"Fascinating interpersonal interaction," Sweets grinned appreciatively.

"Dr. Sweets," Brennan greeted him, visibly surprised at his unexpected appearance.

"I, uh… Oh wow, that is gross," Sweets muttered, looking horrified at the sight of the mangled corpse on Cam's autopsy table.

"Yeah, it's an autopsy room. It's no place for therapists," Booth snarked. "What do you want?"

"You and Dr. Brennan missed our session this morning…" He was still transfixed by the remains, looking simultaneously nauseated and intrigued. Neither Brennan nor Booth addressed his statement; they'd both completely forgotten their appointment that morning. Fortunately, Zack chose that moment to appear in the doorway and announce that he had identified the murder weapon.

"That was quick," Brennan complimented him. He walked further into the room and held up a dagger.

"Tapered, inch-and-a-half blade with both a hilt and a quillon. The cannelure is also quite distinctive."

"That's the Gormogon knife," Booth said, recognizing it immediately.

"The serial killer?" Sweets interjected, his eyes bright with interest.

"Which is why the symbol looks so familiar," Angela added, looking pleased to have solved the mystery. "I've seen it on a tapestry in the vault."

Sweets practically begged to have a look at the vault, and although Brennan was concerned that he might compromise something, Booth decided to give him a tour. They had utilized his profiling skills on a couple of cases now, and he hoped that Sweets would be able to tell them something useful. He knew that solving this case would require every resource available to them.

Sweets was greatly intrigued by the reconstructed vault, but his first suggestion was met with immediate disapproval Brennan. He recommended that they replace the silver kneecaps of the Widow's Son sculpture with the patellae that had been mailed to Booth and Brennan. He insisted that there would be something special about the bones and that Gormogon had obviously sent them in the hopes that they would continue his work.

Booth and Brennan were on their way back to her office when Zack approached to give them the ID he'd gotten from the victim's dental records. It was Father Douglas Cooper, a priest who had worked directly with the archbishop of DC.

"Okay, Sweets was right about the kneecaps," Booth said approvingly. "This guy would've been a world class kneeler." Brennan scoffed at his implication.

"Well, saying someone is a wiz at psychology is like saying they're good at mind reading. It's a series of lucky guesses."

"Well, I'm bringing Sweets in on the case."

"You make fun of him all the time," Zack said, looking perplexed.

"Only when he forgets to stay out of our personal lives."

"He was right about the knees…" Zack mused aloud.

Brennan sighed, accepting that she would have to put up with Sweets' continued presence on this case whether she liked it or not. Soliciting his help on a case here or there was one thing, but the Gormogon case was an ongoing investigation that had already been drawn out for months. She didn't relish the idea of having the nosy psychologist around on such a permanent basis.

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Archbishop Steven Wallace was predictably appalled at the news that his Vicar General had been a victim of cannibalism. What Cam had initially taken to be indications of rodent predation turned out to be human in origin. The only thing remarkable about Father Cooper was that he had been on sabbatical for the past six months while he worked on a novel about early Christianity's ties to Paganism. Archbishop Wallace described him as a decent, humble man who had been committed to serving others.

When Booth and Brennan returned to the lab, they found the rest of the team gathered on the platform around the remains. Angela had worked out the significance of the seal from the linen and the corresponding tapestry in the vault where she'd originally seen the image.

"The red-haired figure is Barabbas," she explained. "A murderer and rapist who was condemned to death in New Testament Jerusalem."

"The Gormogons believed that the descendants of Barabbas started the first secret society," Hodgins added. Angela nodded and continued.

"To the Gormogons, Barabbas is an enduring symbol of all that is backwards, upside down, or inside out."

"So if you find this figure on a Gormogon relic…" Cam began.

"It's a sign to interpret it backwards, in a mirror, or upside down," Angela explained. Zack took up the narrative at that point, drawing their attention to a series of numbers on the tapestry, which was displayed on a nearby monitor.

"The numbers on the tapestry are simple alpha numeric code. Each number corresponds with a letter to spell out 'Civitas Capitolium.'"

"Which means 'capital city.' DC was laid out according to Masonic symbols," Hodgins stated. He pulled up a map of the city that showed the primary points of interest connected by multiple shapes. "Now, notice the pentagram here, over the White House…"

"And the compass and the square," Angela added. "The point of the compass is over the US Capitol building-"

"But here's where Angela's Barabbas thing really kicks in," Hodgins interrupted excitedly. Booth and Brennan shared a loaded glance in response to his obvious enthusiasm.

"The presence of Barabbas means backwards and upside down. So when the compass is inverted, it points to some very interesting landmarks."

"The bank where we found the vault, the place where Father's Cooper's body was dumped, the highway overpass off of which Gavin Nichols head was thrown…" As Hodgins named each landmark, he pointed them out on the map.

"What's there?" Cam asked, indicating a point of interest he hadn't named.

"It's an old mansion that's now a nursing home."

"And this," Angela emphasized, indicating the last landmark in the configuration, "falls very precisely."

"What's that?"

"A mausoleum at Silver Hill Cemetery," Hodgins grinned. Everyone but Zack fought the urge to roll their eyes at his eagerness.

"You want to look inside?" Cam guessed.

"Hell yeah, I do!"

Booth reluctantly agreed to arrange for access to the mausoleum, but he insisted on going with Hodgins to check it out. They were told that the structure had been there since the nineteenth century and that, as far as the cemetery director knew, no one had been inside for roughly a hundred years. The words 'Pater Mortuus' were inscribed in the stone over the entrance, and Booth surprised Hodgins by translating the Latin phrase to 'Dead Father.'

They opened the door to the mausoleum and were immediately greeted by a somewhat familiar sight on the opposite wall. It was another Widow's Son sculpture, but this one was mounted on a metal pentagram. It was also made entirely of bone.

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Ah, Gorgonzola has returned! And poor Brennan is feeling a bit stressed. This is more for character development than anything else. She's not a robot anymore, and that comes with benefits as well as downfalls.

How ironic that I'm posting this chapter the day before Thanksgiving, and my characters had their Thanksgiving as well. Hope everyone has a great holiday! Please review if you have a moment, and I'll be back with more on Saturday. :)