Author's Note: Oooookkkkaaayyy, so, didn't quite hit 30 . . . off by, like 7 . . . this makes me cry tears from my eyes . . . Here you go, non-reviewing peoples.

Ch 10: Here We Go Again

Because she wanted to be sure nothing was overlooked in their case, Brennan opted for her and Booth to stay in DC (A/N: sorry readers, I said Boston before . . . I was on some drugs *somewhat dejectedly* I don't want to talk about it . . .) one more day. She fully intended to spend the entire time in the lab, but, at the instance of Booth who "had been poppin' pills all morning and felt fine", they were sitting at the diner for breakfast.

"I called the El Paso police department, they have an APB out on Elliot Spencer," Booth took a sip of his coffee.

"Good," Brennan nibbled on bacon and slid her waffle onto Booth's plate while he gave her his scrambled eggs. "I hope we catch him," she went on but Booth wasn't listening.

Across the diner, standing next to the exit was Elliot Spencer. His arms were crossed, hair pulled half back and his blue eyes were locked on Booth's. When the man was sure he had his attention, he simply turned and strode out.

"Ya know what Bones; hold that a moment," he slid his chair out and followed Spencer.

Outside the door, the street was, at least for this time of day, full of people but none of them were who he was looking for. Booth was sure he had seen him.

Elliot had rounded a corner into an alley, hopping Booth would follow. A moment later it became obvious he had lost him. "Damnit, I'm not used to being followed," he grunted, walking back out onto the street to again catch Booth's eye.

Booth was searching down both sides of the street for Spencer, finally catching him as the hitter rounded into an alley way.

Experience told Booth that this could be a trap, but the blatant "it's a trap" atmosphere caused the seasoned agent to doubt this. Looking once back to the diner, he followed the perp around the corner. "Elliot Spencer?" Booth checked with his arm that his guns were in their holsters.

Elliot stood fifteen feet into the alley, feet apart and arms crossed, "Yeah." Booth waited for him to go on but he stopped.

"Well," the agent mimicked Elliot's stance.

Elliot glared at the agent, he really hated being mimicked. "Be nice Elliot," Sophie said in his ear, "Remember the con." "Yeah, yeah," he growled under his breath so Booth didn't hear. To the agent he said, "Willy Carson. By now you know that I'm innocent."

Hearing the man speak didn't calm Booth's nerve any, "I know you didn't kill him but being innocent is not the same thing." Hearing the man laugh made the hair on Booth's neck stand on end.

"Whatever you say Agent Booth. Listen, I know you're lady friend is in that diner," he pointed and took a step toward Booth (Booth, not to be out done, stepped forward as well), "now, I could be a complete jackass and tell you that one of my men has her right now." He saw Booth flinch toward the entrance to the alley and laughed harder than he had before. "Easy cowboy, I said if I wanted to be a jackass I could say that. You might want to stay and hear me out."

"I'm listening," Booth didn't relax one bit.

"You may also want to toss your gun's right here," Elliot pointed to the empty space between them, "when I'm gone you can pick them back up." He saw the distrust in Booth's eye, "Listen, I'm not the bad guy here, just do what I said or I'm out of here and you'll never catch your killer."

The steel in Spencer's blue eyes was enough and Booth drew both guns and slid them to the middle of the alley.

"What would you say if I gave you your murderer?"

"First, I'd say you're full of shit." Nate flinched at learning this. "And second, I'd ask what you want in return."

"Good," Nate whispered in Elliot's ear, "you want to be free of all charges and you want updates on the case . . ."

"I also want my team involved in the capture of the criminal," Elliot finished.

"Fine, agreed, who do I need to be looking at?" Booth didn't like this arrangement but he saw the necessity of it.

"Good, go back to the good doctor. We'll contact you with the information later today." Elliot turned to leave, "Don't forget your guns."

Booth watched as Spencer strode deeper into the alley, hands in his pockets. As soon as he retrieved his guns, he ran after him, stopping short as he realized there was a dead end: Spencer had disappeared.

The "disappearing" part of the plan had been Parker's creation. Under his clothes, Elliot was wearing a harness and, hidden in the shadows, he hooked himself to a rope and was hoisted out of the alley, just reaching the roof in time to see Booth chase after him.

"Hm hm hm," Elliot chuckled under his breath, watching as the agent searched left and right for him to no avail. "This just keeps getting better and better!"

"Easy Elliot," Nate warned, "we have to be careful on how we approach this. Agent Booth is smarter than any other mark that we've had so far."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Elliot said gruffly, turning to follow Parker off of the roof.

"Hey Booth, where did you go?" Brennan looked up from her eggs before motioning to Booth's plate with her fork, "Your waffles are getting cold."

Booth was surprised when the breath he didn't know that he was holding was released in a whoosh. What had he expected? The handsome (yes, even Booth would admit that) Elliot Spencer to have one of his goons kidnap Bones? When he got there for everyone to be on their noses with a bunch of big guns pointed at them? Bones to be mouthing, "Booth! Help us!"? Geesh, you think he's that stupid?! No, he knew Brennan would be fine, that Spencer was telling the truth. The holding of his breath was merely habit. "Hey Bones, sorry about that," Booth skipped back to the bar, immediately taking a bite of waffle in his mouth. (While he had been gone, Bones had gotten bored and cut it for him into geometric shapes. He had just eaten a rhombus.) "I, uh, you know what Bones," he smiled, eating a triangle, "I'll tell you back at the lab."

"You're trusting this man?" Brennan asked when they were back in her office waiting for the contact Spencer promised.

"Not as far as . . . okay, so maybe I couldn't throw him, bad back and all, but . . . Okay, the point is, and as much as it pains me to say this, we need him." He had one of Brennan's paper weights in his hand, hefting it from one palm to the other.

"Okay Booth, I will trust you."

Just as she finished her concession her phone rang. She saw Booth reach for it and motioned him to stop, "Jeffersonian Forensics Anthropology Department, Dr. Temperance Brennan speaking." A few "um hm"'s and "yes, of course"'s followed and soon she hung up. Booth raised an eyebrow expectantly. Brennan rose to the occasion, "It was not for you, Booth, Dr. Baker and a few comrades are waiting for me in the lobby. I am going to meet them now." She stood, straightened her skirt and walked toward the lobby, "And please Booth, do not answer my phone." With a flourish, she was gone.

It was only ten minutes when she came back with Dr. Baker and two of his associates, a tall black man and a small blonde in glasses and a lab coat. "Oh, this must be Agent Booth," Dr. Baker reached out to take Booth's hand. His hair was thin and a mess, he had on big glasses and a square face. Something in his eyes confused Booth. "I am Dr. Tom Baker, and these are my associates, Stephanie Mahoney," he gestured to the blonde, "and Andrew Blithe. Can we go to your office, Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan led them all to her office. "Please, sit. Can I ask what brings you to the Jeffersonian?"

Booth realized where he knew the team from just as "Dr. Baker" gestured to the closet to introduce his other associate.

"Sorry about tricking you," Baker said, "but we felt it was safer this way." Elliot stepped out of the closet. (A/N: no, not that way . . . I LOVE HIM! However unrequited it may be.) "No, Dr. Brennan, we mean you no harm, no need to trip the alarm." She pushed it anyway and Hardison (Dr. Blithe) held up the scrambler he had.

"Calm down, Bones, we're among friends here," Booth felt calm, even in light of their present situation. "So," he smiled at Elliot, "You just had to open our discussions with a lie." He patted the couch next to him to offer the hitter a space, "common, let's get this over with."

Elliot took the seat offered and pointed to Nate, "This is Nathan Ford, and he's actually in charge here."

"Thank you, Elliot," "Dr. Baker," now known as Nathan Ford, leaned back against Brennan's desk and took off his glasses, "First, we want to apologize for this intrusion." On the couch, Elliot leaned against the armrest, nodding to Booth in greeting. Brennan sat between the two men. "You should feel good about yourselves; we're giving you our real names." Elliot grumbled that was not his idea. "This is Alec Hardison," he pointed to Dr. Blythe, "and Parker," Dr. Mahoney waved. "We are . . ." Nate paused, searching for the right word, "vigilantes."

None of the names rang any big bells for Booth who had been working homicide, but the "Parker" one seemed vaguely familiar . . . only because it was like "Madonna" or "Prince" (before all the "Artist Formerly Known As" stuff); one name and that's all.

"Hardison, show him why we're here."

"Alright boss." From his briefcase, Hardison pulled out a laptop and propped it up on the desk, turning it so Booth and Brennan could see. "Your dead guy, Willy Carson."

Brennan interjected, "We say 'the deceased' here."

"Your 'the deceased' dead guy then. Point is, you think our non-deceased guy Elliot, deceased him." Booth put his hand on Brennan's thigh to keep her from correcting the hacker. On Hardison's laptop, a picture of McGill came up.

"That is not possible," Booth's hand didn't stop the doctor this time, "Mr. McGill is a very prominent member of society. To say that he is capable of such things is sland . . . oh!"

Hardison had brought up a picture of an older man in a basement. Another man was tied to a chair and the first man, a sick grin on his face, was watching as the man was tortured. (Elliot grumbled again upon recognizing the man in the chair as him. He hoped that no one else had noticed: one glance to the good doctor told him that she had . . . stupid anthropologists . . .)

Brennan was looking at the laptop again, "I can say confidently that that is Mr. McGill."

Hardison chuckled proudly, "Yeah, facial recognition software, the big shot must have thought these were secure." He continued flipping through some slides, each one blurry but McGill's figure was obvious. (Elliot was glad that his chair was facing at an awkward angle so that the software hadn't and wouldn't detect him there.)

"Wow, Booth," Brennan had crossed to the laptop, "We were wrong about him all this time."

Booth was just beginning to say more when Angela burst into the room, "Brennan, Hodgens wants to do another experiment and he needs you to sign off on his order for a fresh pig carcass." Her tone was not elated.

"Oh, alright Angela, just give me a moment."

Now the artist saw everyone else in the room, first Hardison then Nate, then Parker (who waved) and then Elliot. "Um, hello," she covered her mouth in that way people do when they don't want other people to hear what they're saying. "Uh, Brennan, isn't that the guy that Booth was trying to catch?" From the couch, Elliot waved, he had heard everything. Angela waved back: oh yeah, he was hott and had a ge-orgeous smile. (On the same rabbit trail, Parker had hardly taken her eyes off of Booth since entering the room, only no one had noticed so far.)

Brennan did the same hand thing as Angela only less successfully and her voice was louder, "Yes but we havee decided that he is not bad . . . well he did not kill anyone, and now we are apparently working together."

"We are not working together, Bones!" Booth stood up, and addressed Nate, "Listen, anyone could have faked those pictures!"

She wanted to spend more time with him. She really wanted to spend more time with him. He was giving her the look, yeah, that one. Wow, it had been awhile since she had had a strong . . . 'Woah girl,' Angela stopped that train of thought, 'one step at a time.' "How about this, you don't trust them but you trust me. Why don't I look through those pictures?" When Nate didn't say "okay" right away she revised her tactic, "Let one of your guys stay here to make sure I don't, I don't know, erase or tamper with anything?"

While Angela was ogling over Elliot, Hardison noticed her; she was cute. "I could –"

"Okay," said Nate, "Elliot, you'll stay with her, the rest of us will go back to the hotel with Sophie." He waved the rest of his crew out of the room.

"B-but, he doesn't know the first thing about computers, yo! I mean, she could put a virus on my laptop, or sumin' like that an' he would never know! Why can't I just stay?" Hadison complained in this way the entire way out of the lab as Elliot raised his eye brows in that "Na na na na na na, I win!" way.

Back in the hotel Sophie pulled out her com, "Ugg! Men!"

Author's Note: Eh, I was bored and decided to add a little love triangle. Oh, and Parker didn't want to leave either. Long chapter, yay! Now: GO FORTH YE READERS AND REVIEW!