Chapter Four: Revelations and Reunions.

"What?" Hank and Christine shout in unison, both of them completely beside themselves. Brennan can't say she blames them; she understands exactly how they feel. She knows Booth is watching her, concerned about her reaction. He can't take his eyes of his wife, paralysed with shock.

"I'm so sorry, Bones," he apologies suddenly, squeezing her shoulder. "He confessed - Aubrey didn't have a choice. We should be able to go visit him tomorrow, if you want to, that is."

"I do."

"He confessed to what? What the hell is going on?"

Booth and Brennan share looks at Christine's distraught cry and realise they need to explain the situation to their children. They're both very keen on treating Hank, Christine and Parker like adults – not keeping secrets from them, ensuring they can cook, clean, etc. for themselves – and even though what's going on is very adult and very complicated, they feel that it's important to respect their kids and keep them in the loop.

The food has been abandoned, Christine and Hank watching their parents intently, waiting anxiously for the explanation.

Booth sucks his lips into his mouth and releases them with a deep sigh. "OK. Here goes. You know this latest case we're working?"

The kids nod.

"Mom said it was a big case and that's why the bureau wanted you involved."

"Your mother's right, as usual." He clears his throat. "A young woman has been brutally murdered and Aubrey came to me because a witness had described the killer – or the suspected killer – to Angela, who'd sketched him."

"The sketch was somewhat… disconcerting," Brennan says quietly.

"I don't know what that means," Hank responds, using his mother's infamous phrase as he scrunches up his face in confusion, bringing a small smile to Brennan's lips. He has a large vocabulary for his age – all three of their children do; they're very intelligent – but he doesn't know "disconcerting."

"It means worrying. Because, well… it looks like your Uncle Russ." Both kids audibly gasp as Booth takes Brennan's hand over the table in a show of support. He gently rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. She squeezes his fingers tightly.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God."

"I know this is difficult to take in…"

"Difficult to take in?" Christine repeats incredulously, a pool of tears welling in her eyes. Brennan's stomach sinks; her daughter is very strong – she's been through a lot in her relatively short life and as a result she's developed a thick, impenetrable skin. She rarely cries. So the fact that she feels upset enough to cry is extremely significant to Brennan – and distressing. She hates seeing her children like this. She absolutely hates it.

"Has he been arrested for murder?" Hank asks, also on the verge of tears. His little voice sounds terrified and Brennan just wants to wrap both of them up and keep them away from the storm that's ravaging through their family's lives.

"No. Not yet."

"I haven't had time to find cause of death yet or find any evidence that suggests Russ – or anybody else – killed this woman. The FBI can't issue any murder charges until we have forensic proof."

"However, your uncle did admit to dumping the victim's body, so that's what he's been charged with for now," Booth finishes her sentence.

"I'll be able to get him out on bail tomorrow… but…" Her words trail off and she glances at her husband for assistance, her voice failing her. It's difficult enough for her, but to tell her beautiful, innocent children that their uncle is a viable suspect in the murder investigation of Abigail Brooks? She can't bring herself to do it.

Booth, noticing her forlorn expression, steps in to help out. "He has no alibi and a pretty good motive."

"So he did it?"

"No, son, that's not what we're saying. We have no proof of anything yet; it's too early in the game right now. It's just that it's looking highly likely that he could be charged with murder and we need to start preparing ourselves for what happens if he is."

"Oh my God," Christine repeats, horrified. "Uncle Russ couldn't kill anyone, could he?"

"Not at all," Brennan reassures her. If there's one thing she's learnt from her husband, it's to have faith in the people you love and care about. And that's what she has in Russ. Faith. Trust. Complete support. While she acknowledges the fact he was having an extramarital affair – that much is indisputable now, Booth heard him say it with his own ears – murder? That's simply not possible. Russ has his issues and his flaws, like everybody else, he's not perfect, but he is not a murderer. "We just have to follow every avenue of investigation. When this case goes to court, the defence will try to spread reasonable doubt, so we have to be 100% sure that we are convicting the right man, or woman, for the murder."

"And that man could be Uncle Russ…" Hank murmurs, wiping away the salty wetness that trails down his cheek.

"What's the motive?" Christine.

Brennan doesn't want to tell them, and neither does Booth, by the look on his face. She knows they don't hide things from their kids and she knows honesty is the best policy and it would be better for Hank and Christine to find out from their parents before it hits the news and they find out through someone at school, but still. It's also in their best interests if they don't find out, if they don't have the image of their beloved uncle tainted.

"It can't be worse than discovering my uncle has been arrested because he disposed of a dead body, can it?"

Brennan's eyes meet Booth's and she shrugs imperceptibly. Christine is right. They deserve to know. "We'll tell you," she says, swivelling her head to face her distressed children. She's never seen them like this before, but she knows this is nothing compared to how they're going to react to the next piece of news. "You have to promise to keep this a secret though, OK? These words don't get spoken to anybody else. Understand?"

"We understand."

Squeezing Brennan's hand tighter, Booth takes the lead on this one. "You know the victim? Well, as it turns out, Russ has been having an affair with her for the last six months."

"What?"

"What's an affair?" Brennan hears Hank hiss to his older sister.

"It means he's been having a romantic" – and sexual, she thinks bitterly – "relationship with another woman."

"Who's not Auntie Amy?"

"No, Hank. I'm afraid not."

"Does she know? Auntie Amy? Has she found out yet?" Christine worries.

"Not yet, so we've got to keep our mouths zipped shut, mm'k?" Booth gives them serious, warning looks. "This will be hard enough for her as it is, we don't need her finding out from her niece and nephew rather than her husband, huh?"

"OK, dad." Hank pinches his thumb and forefinger together and makes the motion of zipping his lips together and tossing the key over his shoulder.

Brennan purses her lips, trying not to cry at her sweet, sweet boy.

Hank, seeing how visibly upset his mother is, stands up, walks over to her and leans into her side. She wraps one arm around him and one arm around Christine when the latter joins them, allowing two of her four favourite people to comfort her.

"Love you, mom," the sixteen year old whispers.

"I love you more," Brennan returns as Booth watches on affectionately. Frankly, he has no idea how Russ could cheat on Amy. Booth's wife and kids mean the world to him. Why would Russ risk losing his?

Tuesday morning brings much brighter conditions to the DC area. The rain has dried up, the sky is blue with only the rare Cirrus cloud, and the sun is shining. Heat is beating through the glass ceiling of the Jeffersonian Institute and Brennan has to roll up the sleeves of her blue lab coat as she, Cam and Angela leave the break room and head towards the forensics platform.

"We told the kids about Russ last night," she says out of the blue.

Cam's pupils widen. "How'd they take it?"

"About the same way I'd expected."

"Not great, huh?" Angela replies, grimacing.

"Not at all. Amy and Russ have been married for longer than Booth and I. They can't understand how he cheated on her with this girl, never mind the possibility that the uncle they adore is a killer."

"And how are you taking it, Brennan?" Angela questions, concern for her best friend etched deeply into her expression.

The anthropologist shakes her head, chewing on her lower lip. "I don't know what to think."

"Will you see him? Maybe if you see him-."

"Booth's bringing him here later once he's been released on bail." Brennan swipes her ID card and they climb up to the platform, her professional, rational side returning. "Anyway, enough about Russ. We need to examine these remains with an objective eye. We can't think about a potential suspect. We have to view everything impartially, that's how we solve all of our other murders and this one should be the same, whether I am related to the prime suspect or not, OK?"

"OK," Cam and Angela say, exchanging nervous looks behind Brennan's back. She seems very on edge, not herself, which is totally understandable, but they're still worried. She's the key member of their team. They need her to think clearly in order to find Abigail's murderer and they just hope she can stay that way, despite everything so far pointing an accusing finger right at her brother.

Hodgins is already beside Abigail's remains as they approach, his arms outstretched as he swabs for particulates around the gun shot wounds, head injuries and beneath her fingernails. Trace evidence could suggest where she was killed or what she was killed with.

"Found anything?" Cam asks inquisitively, pulling on her latex gloves to begin further examination.

"Yes, this," he says, lifting a faded napkin from the pocket of the torn and bloodied victim's shirt. "Perhaps this could tell us where she last ate before she died?"

"Maybe she was there with her killer. Somebody might be able to ID them. Excellent idea, Hodgins." Angela holds out a tray and her husband places the napkin carefully onto it. The artist-come-computer-nerd leaves the platform for her office where she can scan it into the Angelatron and hopefully enhance the establishment's logo.

Snapping her own gloves on, Brennan picks up Abigail's skull for analysis. It's severely damaged. Blunt force trauma, she concludes, from the radial shape of the fracture patterns. Large parts of the facial bones are missing, like they've been smashed in.

"Overkill?" Cam suggests, glancing up from her position near the torso.

"No." She moves the Mediocam over the damage to elaborate. "There's a lack of remodelling that implies this occurred post-mortem. There's also no haemorrhagic staining, see?"

"So the blows to the skull were not cause of death."

Disappointment swells within her. "No. We need to look elsewhere. It was most likely the gun shots."

"If the killer didn't damage her skull to kill her, was it done to obscure identity?" Hodgins wonders aloud.

"We shouldn't rule that out, but most of the teeth are still in tact, so I don't think the killer's intention was to hide identity. Dental work is the most accurate way of ID'ing a set remains."

"Then what were they trying to do?"

While she doesn't typically theorise, Cam asked, and she can't help but respond. "I think this killer knew the victim and the bludgeoning of the skull occurred so they didn't have to see the familiar face staring back at them, making them feel remorse."

"Your brother knew the victim."

Brennan takes in a sharp breath, before saying, "Yes. It seems he did." Silence stretches out between the three of them as they each collect their thoughts. Brennan shuts her eyes, sighs deeply, and moves on to the gun shot wounds. "The body is riddled with bullets. It appears the murderer had some serious pent up rage he released on poor Abigail."

"Yes," Cam concurs. "The blood staining on the clothing suggests this wound" – she points to a hole in the sternum – "would have been fatal. The others were just for… I don't know what."

Brennan considers this for a long while. This killer continued to relentlessly injure the victim, even after death. Using her many years working with the FBI to solve crimes, she knows that could suggest overkill or the fact that the murderer is inexperienced. They've never taken another human life before and therefore don't know which places to shoot, which arteries to sever. Equally, it could be a mixture of both, but that doesn't get them anywhere.

She's brought out of her skeleton-induced trance by the loud shout of "BONES!" from behind her. Knowing it can only be one person she spins around to find her husband and her brother entering the lab. She rushes towards them and the first thing she does is slap Russ sharply across the cheek. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Booth's mouth drops open. "Bones!"

"It's OK, Booth," Russ says, rubbing his stinging red skin. It looks like it really hurt. Good, Brennan thinks scathingly. "She's angry, I get it."

"I am so far past angry, Russell Brennan," she snaps, all of the tension she's been feeling reaching its peak. "You disposed of a corpse? You're a murder suspect? You were having an affair?"

She's not exactly being quiet, attracting quite a few interested looks from all around the lab. She may not notice the attention, but Russ certainly does; he's feeling downright mortified about his younger sister's very loud, very public outburst. "Tempe, please, can we go somewhere a little more private?"

"Come on, Bones, let's go to your office. The squints don't need a show," Booth agrees.

She reluctantly complies and storms off in the direction of her office, expecting her husband and brother to follow her lead.

Booth races to catch up with her. "Be nice," he hisses in her ear once he's by her side.

"I resent the implication that I'm not always nice."

"You are. You know you're nice and I love you very much. You're just not always…"

She arches an eyebrow.

"Sensitive?" He tries.

"Sensitive? Booth, he-."

"I know. Just-. Go easy on him, OK?"

"Fine," she says begrudgingly, entering her office. She and Booth sit on the sofa, almost no space between them as she seeks comfort only her husband can provide her with. She added a new two-seater sofa for the kids once they got older and Cam allowed more frequent visits to the lab; Russ sits on that sofa, clasping his hands in his lap.

"I'm starting to feel like a criminal the way you're glaring at me here, Tempe," he remarks, fiddling with his hands.

She feels the need to correct his erroneous statement. "You are a criminal."

"Bones…" Booth warns.

Brennan rolls her eyes. She wishes her husband would stop defending Russ like this. "He spent last night in custody, didn't he?"

"Yes, but-."

"Therefore he's a criminal," the anthropologist concludes, the hurt evident in her tone.

"Tempe, please, hear me out-."

"I have nothing to say to you," she spits angrily. "I can't believe you'd do this. After everything we've been through with mom and dad going on the run… abandonment… mom's murder… dad's murder investigation… We were finally happy and you just decided to kill someone? Throw it all away?"

"I didn't murder, Abi!"

"Oh, so it's Abi, is it? The name of your mistress?"

"This isn't exactly going easy on him, Bones," Booth points out in hushed tones.

"What does he expect me to do? Throw my arms around him in a hug for cheating on his wife?"

Since his previous attempts to convince her of his innocence, Russ tries a new tack. "Tempe, Amy and I have been having problems in our relationship for some time…"

Marital problems? That's his excuse? She thinks disbelievingly. He's being ridiculous – trying to spin the blame so his affair becomes Amy's fault. Honestly, she's beginning to feel like maybe she didn't even know her brother at all. The Russ she knew – or thought she knew – would have talked to her, or their father, or a professional, or somebody, he wouldn't have just slept with the first woman he could find.

"So?" She says eventually, frowning in disappointment.

"So she was pushing me away! I couldn't do anything right, I was just getting yelled at all the time, left out from things! I needed to get drunk after she kicked me out of the house one night when we'd had a particularly bad argument. I went to this bar and I met Abi…"

"If you tell me one thing led to another, I'll throw up." Brennan.

"But it did! Tempe, even you've said that monogamy is unnatural."

She shrugs, glancing at her husband next to her, her hand reaching out for his. "I was proven wrong." While once upon a time she'd thought that love was simply a chemical process that didn't exist, meeting Booth, falling in love with Booth, she's realised that many of her prior opinions on love and relationships are simply not true. No other man holds a candle to her husband. And she could never imagine a future where she's not in a monogamous relationship with him. "Besides, I was never married with kids when I was seeing more than one man at a time. They were casual relationships, nothing serious. It's completely different."

"Is it? Surely there's some tribes out there that tell you it's possible to love more than one person at the same time."

"Perhaps, but in North America that's just an excuse people use to condone cheating. If you really loved either one of them, you'd be fully committed and you know that's true."

"She has a point, Russ," Booth agrees supportively, entwining his fingers with Brennan's. "And you used your old name so you obviously thought you had something to hide."

Before Russ can formulate a response, Angela knocks on Brennan's door. Three heads turn towards her. "I have a result for where our victim ate right before she was murdered."

"Go ahead, Ange."

"Pablo's Pizzeria," she reads from her tablet, squinting as she reads the address in smaller print. "It's in-."

"Georgetown," Russ finishes, his eyes wide.

All attention redirects to him, Booth, Brennan and Angela's brows furrowed.

"How did you know that?" Booth questions.

"That's where Hayley works. I go there all the time."

Dun dun duuunnnn!

I might be going on a fieldtrip with uni next weekend so chapter 5 (which I have yet to write) will probably be uploaded on either Thursday (22nd Sept) or Monday (26th Sept). Stay tuned!

Also, please, please, please leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter. They motivate me to write faster/better. :)