Hi! I don't own Bones. Continue on, please.

FIRST PERSON POV!

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We stood in front of a nice small family sized home out in the suburbs. And it looked exactly how any family would want to picture their first home. A white picket fence, red shutters, a small garden, everything. We walked up to the front porch of the house and Booth knocked on the door. A blonde woman who looked like she was barely out of her 30's answered the door. Her face dropped as she saw the three official looking people on her front porch.

"Mrs. Beasom?" Booth said, just to be clear that this was the right house. The woman nodded her head, her mouth slightly open. "May we come in?" She nodded again before moving out of our way and allowing us in. She showed us to the living room and asked us to sit down, which we did. Then she called for her husband, believing that he should hear this as well. Obviously, he had to and obviously, this woman probably knew why we were here. A few seconds later, Mr. Beasom entered the room and took a seat next to his wife.

"Why have you come here?" the man asked. His voice was gruff and his brown hair was graying slightly as he took us in. He was an exceptionally large and imposing man while his wife was petite.

"We found your son, Jonathon," Booth said. The woman smiled happily and clapped her hands together.

"They found out little Jon Boy!" she said, excitedly. "When can we see him?" The sad looks on our faces soon turned her smile into a frown. "He is alive, isn't he?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Beasom," Booth told them soothingly. I watched their reactions as the news hit them. The woman began crying horribly while the man tried to calm her. It wasn't hard to figure out who was the abuser here. Booth coughed a bit, obviously uncomfortable with the tear-ridden Mrs. Beasom, and wanting to get their attention back.

"Is there something else?" Mrs. Beasom asked, still wiping at tears that refused to leave her be.

"Yes," Brennan said, before looking at Booth and I, then back at the Beasoms. "We believe that Jonathon may have been abused."

"Proposterous!" Mr. Beasom's voice boomed. I didn't know people still used that word anymore. "Why would we or anyone else we knew want to hurt out son?!" I've heard this all before and I really didn't need to hear it now.

"May I use your restroom?" I asked innocently. All eyes were quickly on me, as if me going to the bathroom was the least of their worries. "What? I really have to go..." I said, trailing off. Mrs. Beasom nodded, still wiping at her face.

"It's upstairs, second door on the left," she told me.

"Thanks," I said, nodding and leaving, allowing them to continue the conversation. I walked up the steps and began my own investigation. I opened the two doors that were on the right first and found the master bedroom and hallway closet. Then I opened the two doors on the left and found the bathroom right where they said it was. The other room was what concerned me the most. Where I thought I would find Jonathon's room, instead I found a room filled with bookshelves and some exercise machines. I entered the room cautiously and shook my head. They had to have known he was dead. They just had to have. I closed the door behind me and quickly made my way downstairs to find that Mrs. Beasom was in another burst of tears as Mr. Beasom and Booth were standing, practically in each other's faces. Brennan was sitting, staring wide-eyed at the entire scene.

"Did I miss something?" I asked and then all faces quickly turned towards me.

"Yes," Mr. Beasom said. "You missed me throwing you all out!" I blinked for a second before shaking my head. "What?" he asked in a condescending tone. No doubt the tone he had used with his own son.

"What happened to Jonathon's room?" I asked them. Mr. Beasom's eyes went wide as if in shock and then he quickly recovered.

"That is none of your business," he told me.

"No?" I asked. "As far as I'm concerned, I am a voice for Jonathon and I happen to know that you abused him. Your wife is your new punching bag, I'm assuming. Especially because you knew Jonathon was dead. Or else you would've reacted the same way your wife did."

"Get out," the man growled, taking a few steps towards me. "You have no evidence of any of that." I took a few steps towards him as well.

"Not yet," I said. "But believe me when I say that I will. And then you'll be in jail for a very long time."

"Come on," Brennan said, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from Mr. Beasom. Booth followed us out the door, remembering to slam it on the way out. The entire way to the car, Brennan's grip was on my upper arm before she pulled me in front of her, Booth automatically getting into the driver's seat. "This is your first day, don't let your emotions get involved," she told me before getting in as well.

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As soon as we got back to the lab, I went up to Cam's office and knocked on her door. She smiled up at me as I came in and sat down.

"How's your first day going?" she asked me. I just smiled and crossed my legs.

"Does it get any easier?" I asked her. She took a deep breath before answering me.

"I wish I could say that it does," she said. "Your first case isn't going so well, huh?"

"No, not really," I told her. "Could I have a copy of my file?" She looked a bit confused at this request.

"Why?" she asked me.

"Lance is getting annoying," I told her. "Please?"

"Okay," she said, nodding.

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I walked into Lance's office later that evening, without even knocking, and sat down across from him, my file in hand. He looked up at me.

"Well, isn't this a little turn of events?" he said, sarcasm ever present in his comment. "You come to talk about your little reaction earlier?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What reaction?" I asked, even though it was obvious I knew what he was talking about. He just gave me a look that says 'I'm all-knowing and I know you know what I'm talking about'. I just smiled at him.

"You're really annoying, you know that?" I told him before standing up and slapping the file on his desk.

"What's this?" he asked, picking it up and looking at the name on it and then looking up at me. He opened his mouth to say something but I put my hand up to silence him.

"I don't need anyone to talk to," I told him. "I don't need a counselor or a psych guy. I just need to be left alone." And with that, I walked out of his office.

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