It was all there.

After a terse explanation during dinner, Booth kept Christine occupied while Brennan studied the sheets Daisy had left with her.

Spread out over the dining room table, on page after page, the truth bled out from the words Sweets had written.

The first contact from Gormogon . . .

No, Brennan bitterly corrected her inner thoughts as she continued to read. The Master. Zack called him The Master.

His chilling, carefully planned pursuit of her brilliant intern. Flattery couched as nothing more than the simple acknowledgment of Zack's genius. Carefully worded conversations meant to gauge his malleability and his willingness to test and prove a theory.

Zack never saw it coming. His cleverness made him naive and his naiveté made him vulnerable.

" . . . there's a fault in your logic . . ."

Brennan dropped her head into the palm of one hand. No, the fault was mine. I should have been more careful with him. I should have prepared him for the possibility of being approached by someone like The Master. I should have -

"AHHHHHH! The giants are coming to get me!"

Christine ran screaming across the room, the mock terror in her voice almost lost beneath her childish laughter and Booth's growls as he chased after her.

Tense and on edge from the strain of the difficult day, Brennan's temper snapped.

"Christine! I have asked you on several occasions to please not yell or run inside the house!"

Surprised, the little girl immediately came to a skidding stop. Her mother never yelled.

Behind Christine, Booth frowned.

His disapproval was unnecessary. Instantly contrite, Brennan left her chair and crouched in front of their daughter.

"I'm sorry." She grasped Christine's hands and squeezed. "I received some new information today about a former student of mine that I find very distressing. I have to re-evaluate events from the past in light of these developments and that is causing me a great deal of pain. This student was special to me and it appears that I misjudged him badly." She blinked away tears as she offered the heartfelt apology. "However, I should not have taken my anxiety out on you. I am very sorry. Please forgive me."

Eyes huge, Christine silently listened to her mother's earnest recitation.

Then she looked up at Booth.

He obligingly translated.

"Mommy's got some heavy thinking to do so you need to button it, kid." Sensing a distraction was in order, he swept her up high in his arms and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Guess who's giving you a bath tonight?"

The piping response was immediate. "You are!"

"That's right!" He kissed her again, set her back on her feet and prodded her along with a gentle pat on her shoulders. "Why don't you go on and get ready. I'll be there in just a minute, okay?"

"Okay! I'm going to use the purple bubbles!" Christine's blue eyes danced merrily as she skipped away.

"No!" Booth groaned with loud, melodramatic theatrics. "Not the purple bubbles!"

High-pitched, girlish giggles floated out behind her as she ran.

"ALL THE PURPLE BUBBLES!"

Her parents were still smiling when she disappeared into her room but the amusement quickly faded from Brennan's face. She looked at Booth and began to apologize again.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice -"

"Shhhh. She's already forgotten about it." Booth silenced her with a shake of his head as he drew her close. "Come here."

Brennan was trembling and her skin was colder than warranted by the warmth of the interior of their home. She accepted the comfort he offered, resting her head on his shoulders when he rubbed his hands up and down her back.

"I was wrong, Booth," she whispered. "It's all so obvious now. I can't believe I missed it."

He drew back far enough to look down into her eyes. "You believed someone who had never lied to you. You saw what he wanted you to see. We all did." When she would have argued further, he kept talking. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to give Christine a bath and then we'll both read her a story together. Maybe two," he smiled,"since you're feeling guilty. And then you and I will sit down and talk about this whole thing with Addy. Okay?"

When he had her agreement, he kissed her and let her go.

"Have a glass of wine," he suggested. "And leave all of that -" His hand waved toward the table and the pages scattered over it. " - alone for now."

.

.

.

An hour later they sat next to each other in the dining room. Brennan laid out individual pages as she made her argument.

"Dr. Sweets was very thorough. He persuaded Zack to detail the entire relationship, every step The Master took in his recruitment. The manipulation is obvious. We have to get him released immediately."

Booth shook his head. "Bones . . ."

"Gormogon was the murderer!" Brennan insisted. "Gormogon and the apprentice he killed so that he could recruit Zack! Zack is innocent!"

"No, he's not." Booth's tone was hard and it shut Brennan down at once.

"But . . ."

"It doesn't matter that he wasn't the one holding the knife. He delivered Porter to Gormogon," he reminded her. "And who knows how many other people would have died if he hadn't blown himself up first? In the eyes of the law, he's just as guilty."

Brennan's jaw lifted mutinously.

"I don't accept that. Zack didn't kill anyone. He's spent seven years locked away while we all thought he was a murderer. Well, we were wrong and I'm going to get him released."

"That's not going to happen." Booth was just as implacable. "That hospital he's in is the best place for him right now. It's enough that you know that he didn't personally kill anyone. Let it go, Bones."

The stubborn set of her chin was not a portent of someone who intended to take that advice.

.

.

.

Brennan's visit to Caroline Julian the next day was no more helpful. The prosecutor looked at the loose stack of paper without touching it.

"What do you expect me to do with that, cher?"

Brennan crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at the woman behind the desk.

"I expect you to have Dr. Addy released from the mental hospital he's been a prisoner of for seven years."

"Is that all?" One manicured eyebrow arched high. "And here I thought you might want something impossible - like setting a confessed murderer free." She waved away Brennan's immediate protest. "What does Dr. Addy have to say about this?"

"I . . . haven't seen him yet," Brennan admitted reluctantly. "The hospital's usual visiting day is tomorrow. I plan to discuss it with him then."

"Hmmmpf." Her expression changed to that of someone resigned to delivering bad news. "Dr. Brennan, this is a nice little story but even if Dr. Sweets were still alive - God rest his soul - he's offered no proof beyond the words of a mental patient convicted of murder. And if you'll remember, our cannibal was killed partaking of his last meal so we can't ask him, either. I'm sorry, cherie. Your Dr. Addy is going to have to stay right where he is."

"That is unacceptable."

Brennan spun on her heel and marched out of the office.