The Secret in the 666 (Part Two of Two)

By: DemonClowSorceress

Disclaimer: Bones belongs to Twentieth Century Fox. I merely use characters to suit my own storyline.

Part Two in the Terror of the Two-Part Tragedy double! Get ready!

Summery: After a very ugly case, Temperance Brennan recieved a call from Angela Montenegro about Jack Hodgins and Emily Hodgins being in a car accident. Who are the 666 Devils that claimed responsibility, and why is Joy so terrified?

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was lulling Joy into a dulled state of shock, but she shook her head to clear it of the clouds of sleep away. Inhaling deeply, she expelled the breath from her nose like a dragon snorting flames at its enemies. And if she knew who had done this to her best friend, the people responsible would have definitely felt her draconic rage.

It had been three hours since Joy's godmother, Angela Montenegro, had called the Booth house with news of the accident. In less than twenty minutes Parker and Joy were pulling into Our Lady of Mercy's ICU entrance while their parents were heading to the scene of the crime.

"The car was tagged by the 666 Devils." Those words kept bouncing in Joy's skull, ringing with despair in every echo. She took a long, shuddering breath in and out. "Tagged by the 666 Devils."

"Please God, please no," she whispered, trying not to succumb to the panic gripping her insides. "No, not them."

"Kiddo?" Parker poked his head inside the room. "You want anything? A soda or a candy bar?"

Joy shook her head. "No, nothing."

"Okay. Well, someone came to keep you company."

Kent came into the room awkwardly, like he'd been sent to the principal's office. Joy looked at him, her tears stark on her face. Their earlier argument seemed insignificant compared to what had just happened.

He didn't even have to say anything. All he did was stand there and let her run into his arms. Joy poured all her pent-up sorrow and rage with fresh tears that stained Kent's shirt, hugging him tightly without even realizing it.

"I heard from Miss Cam," Kent murmured, rubbing her back as her sobs devolved into hiccups and deep, ragged breaths. "I knew you'd need a friend. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry about - "

"Kent, the 666 Devils tagged the car." Joy felt every muscle in his chest and arms stiffen around her. She looked up at him. "Why? Why would they......" She left the question unfinished, hoping he could fill in the blank spaces.

He took a breath and leaned his forehead against hers. "I didn't think they'd do this," he whispered hoarsely. "I didn't think they'd know. But if they went after Emily....."

Joy waited patiently, oblivious to the fact that their arms were still around each other. It was a 'guy hug' as her parents had called it, and right now it was something she needed.

Kent looked down at her. "My testimony against the chop-shop crew....." he began slowly. "It.......it implicated a couple of the 666 Devils."

"I know that." At his surprised expression she continued, "My dad kept me up-to-date on the trial."

The teenage boy gave a snort. "Did your dad also tell you that my testimony also led to the successful drug bust that involved some of the higher-ups of the Devils?"

Joy stared. No, her father had not. "How did you - "

"People like them tend to forget their hired help has ears," Kent said. "I knew I was in over my head once we got busted, so I sold the information for the highest asking price." He gave a shrug that most people would consider careless. "Turns out it wasn't the best deal, but hey. It was the best I could get without serving time." A lopsided smile graced his face. "Caroline Julian drives a hard bargain."

"Miss Caroline made the deal?" Joy had only heard Miss Caroline's voice over the phone, instantly known for her always calling Joy 'cherie.' Joy only knew the prosecutor as a shadowy figure who sent a present for Christmas and Joy's birthday, called the house occasionally at all hours of the night and day, and who had trained Joy to respond to 'cherie' at a very young age. A hard woman, she was also (so Joy had been told) instrumental in getting her parents the warrants needed to do their jobs.

Kent tapped her shoulder. "Emily," he murmured, directing her attention to the hospital bed.

Joy turned and saw her friend stirring. She left the warmth of Kent's arms and went over to Emily, hopeful as the other girl's eyes fluttered open. "Li?"

"Told you before........don't call me Li....." Emily grunted. Her hand reached up to touch her forehead, but was stopped by the IV in her arm. "Dammit. Did anyone get the license number of the thing that hit me?"

"No, but my parents are investigating the scene of the crash........" Joy stopped talking when she saw the weak wry smile on Emily's face. "Oh, you were being metaphorical."

"Sha zi,"* Emily sighed, settling back on her pillows. Her blue eyes slanted towards Kent in the doorway. "Hey there, handsome. Am I in Heaven?"

Kent sighed as well, exasperated as well as relieved at her attempt at humor. "No, but you are in the capable hands of the ICU staff at Our Lady of Mercy. You gave Squint a bad scare there, Em."

Joy suddenly felt a lot lighter than she had before. Kent called her Squint. Strange, how the usage - or lack of - such a dumb nickname could have such a devastating effect on her. Squaring her shoulders, Joy sat beside Emily's bed and took her hand. "Can you remember anything that happened?"

"Where's my dad?" Emliy asked instead, just realizing that Hodgins wasn't there. "Is he okay?"

"Uncle Jack is okay," Joy reassured her. "He's in stable condition. I need you to tell me what happened. Can you do that?"

Emily nodded, closing her eyes as a wave of pain radiated from the movement. "Yeah. Dad and I went to get some ice cream at the Rita's on Lexington and Fifth......"

%%%%%%%%%%%%%~~~~~~~~%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Booth surveyed the crime scene, hands on his hips and eyes squinting against the glare of the rising sun and the red illumination from the dying road flares. Hodgins' red and white car was wrapped around a telephone pole, spewing smoke and dripping radiator fluid. The fire had finally been put out, leaving ugly black marks and melted pockmarks on the hood. A huge dent was evident in the passenger side, like a huge fist had smashed itself into the metal. Skid marks showed how Hodgins' toy car had drifted as Hodgins had tried to regain control of the vehicle.

But Booth focused on the particulars of the accident. The other pairs of skid marks - two, to be precise. One of the attacker cars had boxed Hodgins and Emily in while the other T-boned their car. The huge dent in the wreck's side - holding possible paint transfer from the cars that had done this.

And of course, the garish 666 spray-painted over every surface of Hodgins' car.

Brennan shivered beside Booth, not from the cold but from anger. "I'm no use here," she complained. "There are no human remains here. I'm useless."

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, resisting the urge to give her a guy hug in front of the entire police force of D.C. "Go comfort Angela," he offered. "I'm sure she'd like some company."

"But I'm no good with emotional words of reassurance," his wife objected.

Booth hugged her. "But she could use a friend."

"Agent Booth?" As usual, husband and wife both looked up when the tech called for the agent. "You're gonna want to see this." He pointed to something that was wedged underneath Hodgins' car. "At first we though it was a pedestrian, but then we saw the tat."

A body was there. Composing herself, Temperance strode over and knelt to shine her flashlight under the car's carriage. "Male, about mid- or late twenties. Severe burns over about sixty percent of his body, including his face. Angela will have to reconstruct the face."

"You said there's a tat?" Booth asked the forensic tech. In response, the man pointed at the corpse's hand. Booth cursed softly. "Yup. A pair of goat horns at the ends of three sixes. Definitely 666 Devils."

Brennan stripped off her gloves. "Bring everything back to the Jeffersonian, including the car. Hodgins can - " She stopped, remembering that Hodgins was in the hospital. "We can get particulate evidence off the doors and the hood, as well as the victim's clothes. I can smell an accelerant other than gasoline, but we'll need to run tests to be sure."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%~~~~~~~~%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Joy listened to Emily's harrowing tale with a stony expression. The cars had come from nowhere, hitting Hodgins' car so hard that Emily knew she would've died if her seatbelt hadn't been fastened. She remembered seeing a bunch of men surrounding the car after the crash, hearing the rattling pissssssssssssss of spray paint cans, and then hearing sploshing liquid and the fwoosh of fire.

"They laughed, Joy," she choked, shaking at the memory. "They almost killed us - maybe they thought they had - but they were defacing my dad's car and they laughed."

"Devils are crazy," Kent said, speaking for the first time since Emily began. "Must've been an initiation rite. Sounds just stupid enough." He raked a hand back through his dark auburn, almost brown hair.

Joy glanced back at her friend. "You sound very informed," she said in a neutral tone, "for a chop-shop boy."

"I'm not proud of what I did, but I did it for family." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Joy made to follow, but was stopped by Emily's hand on hers.

"Sweetie, let him be," she whispered. "He feels awful about this, I can tell."

Joy kept Emily company until the other girl fell asleep, then headed out to find Parker for a ride home. Kent was waiting for her by the front desk. With an unspoken agreement, both teens headed for the parking lot and Kent's blue Corvette.

They were driving through early morning D.C. when Kent spoke again. "Don't go anywhere alone."

"And why is that?"

He threw her a look before returning to glare at the road. "Are you serious? The 666 Devils run Emily and Hodgins off the road and you're asking me why? Squint, get a clue!"

"Why would the 666 Devils go after Emily when their main goal is taking you out?" Joy noted his tension. "Yeah Kent, I do have a brain. Contrary to popular belief, I can use it. Now talk to me."

He sighed angrily. "Fine. Yes, the Devils wanna take me out because of my testimony. I'm one of the ones who can keep their higher-ups in prison. There, you happy now?"

Joy was silent for the remainder of the ride back to her house. When Kent let her out, she went straight inside and dialed her mother's extension at the Jeffersonian. Temperance answered at the first ring. "Brennan."

"Mom, it's Joy. I'm home now, but can I come to the Jeffersonian and help?"

Her mother gave a little cough. "Joy, I know you wish to assist the case, but I believe the best course of action would be for you to stay home."

"Fair enough." Joy pursed her lips, thinking. "Have you found out anything about the victim?"

"Your father ran the dental records, and we do have a match." The sound of ruffling papers, then a cleared throat. "The victim was a member of the Devils. Joseph Hollister, also known as Lil' Joey. He disappeared two weeks after giving testimony against the second-in-command of the Devils, Richter 'Earthquake' Montinelli."

Joy frowned. "Mom......isn't that the same guy Kent testified against?"

"According to Booth, yes. Hollister was doused in turpentine and set on fire by the heated metal of Hodgins' car. My findings show that he was still alive when they set him on fire." Temperance stopped for a moment. "Joy, is Kent there?"

"No. He went - " Memory flashed; Kent pulling away from the curb, backing around - back towards town. "He went back to D.C."

"Good. Then he got your father's message."

"What message?"

Temperance paused. In the pause followed Cam's voice. "Hey, I just finished my autopsy. Apparently Hollister was tortured."

"How did you come to that conclusion?" Temperance asked, seemingly forgetting about her daughter being on speaker.

"Bullet wounds to his knees, his feet, and one in the shoulder. There was also a hole in his forehead. The fire damage obscured it." There was a small clang of metal. "The others were dug out, but I found this sucker in Hollister's skull."

"Mom, what message did Dad give to Kent?" Joy asked again, trying not to be freaked by the information. "Where did he go?"

%%%%%%%%%%%%%~~~~~~~~%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Booth shuffled the papers in front of him. "Tyler Kent, is it true that you were among a group of individuals that ran a chop-shop on West 9th Street that processed vehicles stolen by the 666 Devils?"

"You know it Booth, you were there," Kent retorted calmly.

"That's Special Agent Booth, you little twerp."

One eyebrow raised. "Really? You're correcting my manners now? What are you, my mother?"

Booth decided not to rise to the goading. He was the one with the badge. "You testified in the trial of Richter 'Earthquake' Montinelli as a witness for the prosecution, right?"

"Again, you know the answer to that."

"Your testimony is the only thing keeping him in jail, now that Lil' Joey's charred remains are under the Jeffersonian microscope."

Kent's dark green eyes widened. "Hollister's dead?"

"Found under Hodgins' car, incinerated." Booth watched the young man carefully. "An induction ceremony, maybe? Waste the canary?"

"I didn't participate in anything like that!" Kent snapped.

Booth dropped his hand to bang it on the table. "But you were one of the 666 Devils."

"I wasn't a member!" Kent angrily yanked his shirt off. "You see any horned triple sixes? No. Because I'm not one of them!"

"You chopped their stolen cars."

"For money! So that my brother wouldn't lose his business!" The teenager was practically shaking with anger. "I let the Devils conscript me so they wouldn't torch Greg's auto shop in the dead of night. My brother lives for that shop; it's the only income he's got to take care of Carol."

"His girlfriend," Booth mused, reading the file again.

"She got pregnant, and he married her. I had a nephew on the way. What was I supposed to do?" Kent's hands knuckled up on the interrogation table. "As long I broke those cars down and kept my head low, they wouldn't do anything." Those piercing green eyes locked with Booth's brown ones. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Squint - I'm not proud of what I did, but I did it for family."

Booth couldn't argue with Kent there. If he'd had a choice to make like that, he would've done whatever it took to protect his wife, son, and daughter. "So why squeal on them?"

The teenager's eyes suddenly went flat. He averted his gaze from Booth's, staring instead into the table. "I got sick and tired of people using me," he said.

Booth didn't buy it for one second. He's hiding something. "I need an alibi for the time Hodgins' car was attacked."

Kent met Booth's eyes squarely. "Squint stopped by around two-thirty. She stayed for about five minutes, then she left. My brother was asleep, so unless he woke up when she knocked on the door, that's it."

The interrogation room door banged opened. Both males jumped at the sound, then stared as the last person either of them expected stalked into the room.

"Dad, is Kent a suspect?" Joy was plenty pissed at the moment. With her godfather and her best friend in the hospital, her mother investigating the death of a man tied to the same gang Kent had ties to, and her father interrogating Kent, she felt like the world was spinning off its axis and she was completely helpless to stop it. And if there's one thing Joy Booth hated more than anything, it was being helpless when her friends and family were threatened.

Booth got up and steered his daughter out of the room. "Yes, he was. But not anymore. You're his alibi, honey; there's no way he could've been involved with the accident."

Joy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god. So can he go?"

"No." At her puzzled expression her father continued. "He's got to go into protective custody. Undoubtedly the Devils are trying to eliminate him like they did Hollister." Booth hugged her tightly. "Why don't you wait in my office, Joy? I'm gonna finish up in here and meet you there."

"Ok Dad." Casting a quick, worried glance around her father's body, she headed for Booth's office. She flounced into the swivel chair and spun around in it. Bored, she then played with the collection of bobbleheads on the desk.

A file caught her eye. The name Ritcher Montinelli stood out in black ink on the manila. Curious, Joy picked up the folder and leafed through the contents. What she saw took her breath away like a punch to the gut.

The rap sheet for Montinelli was longer than her arm and had more ink than a tattoo parlor. Extortion, prostitution, drug connections, murder, arson, kidnapping - you name it, he had allegedly done it. There were no convictions, with reasons falling under 'insubstantial evidence' to 'key witness disappeared' to 'unable to make case without probable cause.' Montinelli knew how to commit his crimes and he knew how to do it smart, leaving no evidence that directly tied him to his businesses and leaving chumps to take the heat when it came down.

Until Kent blew the whistle, she thought, getting angry again. And now the Devils are striking. Bastards.

That was how Booth found her five minutes later, a frown creasing her brow as she read over the Montinelli file. "Joy, why on earth are you reading that?" he admonished, hurriedly taking the file away from her. "That stuff can give you nightmares."

"Dad, are you sure it's a good idea to leave Kent in protective custody?" she asked. "It says here that Montinelli was able to whack a key witness in a secret safe house - "

"Stop worrying. Kent'll be fine."

But she shook her head. "Not that I don't trust you Dad, but this guy's bad news. Besides, my gut says this could become a real - " Joy pressed her lips together to a thin line before hashing out, "Fang zong feng kuang de jie."**

"I don't know what you just said, but I bet it was something unpleasant." Booth sighed. "All right, we'll hide him someplace else. Now can you please come along? Mom's making dinner and I want to get there while it's still hot."

Father and daughter headed out of the FBI, but they ran into Kent by the elevator. The two teens didn't speak, still awkward from the earlier argument. Booth felt like a chaperone on an arranged date as the three rode down the elevator into the parking lot. A pair of agents were there with an unmarked car for Kent, who got on without a word. Joy watched him leave with an unreadable expression on her face, then followed her father to the car.

Temperance knew something was wrong when her husband and daughter entered the house. Her sharp blue eyes cut from Booth to Joy and back. "So?"

"He's not involved in the accident, but he's involved in something," Booth said. "He wasn't telling me everything today. But who cares. All I have to worry about now is keeping him alive until Friday when the hearing goes down."

"We got back more information on Hollister's movements before he became crunchy barbeque," Temperance said.

"I think you mean crispy, Mom," Joy corrected.

Her mother nodded thanks. "Angela managed to re-create the bullet wound and got the striations off the bone*** to run through the system. Your people bounced back a name; it's in your e-mail. Also Cam determined that Hollister was tortured and executed prior to being shoved under Hodgins' car and torched."

"Tortured? For what?" Booth asked.

"No idea. We can only assume he held out longer than normal, judging from the amount of trauma to the bones." Temperance handed Joy a glass of soda. "Sweetie, please drink this. You look like you're about to peel over."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Keel over, Bones."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%~~~~~~~~%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The peace of the night was broken by the ringing of the phone.

The rules of the Booth house were simple; to avoid grouchiness and chronic insomnia, there was a rotating cycle of who would pick up the phone when it rang at some godforsaken hour in the morning. It just happened to be Joy's turn. Leaving the warm embrace of her bedsheets, the brunette stumbled for the cordless extension and picked it up. "Booth," she yawned.

"Cherie, put your father on the phone now," came a voice with a familiar Southern accent.

Joy began rubbing her eye to clear it of grit, now waking up. "Miss Caroline?"

"Now, cherie. Tell him it's urgent."

Joy took the phone into her father, who grumbled about waking up until he heard who was on the line. He took the phone and asked, "What happened?"

"Seeley Booth, you've got the devil's luck," was her opening line.

"They hit the safe house." It wasn't a question. Temperance sat up, fully awake now. "Any casualties?"

"As I said before, devil's luck. Your boys are safe; they even got the bad guys in custody." Caroline sounded very impressed. "How exactly did you know that Montinelli would hit the house?"

"Gut instinct," Booth said, looking at Joy. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, the head man's the owner of that bullet in Crispy Critter's brainpan." Caroline sounded extremely smug. "I'll have a conviction on their butts faster than your daughter's best time on the track."

Booth smirked. "Glad to make your night, Caroline. Good night."

"But cherie, where is the boy? Your agents never said where they - "

"Good night, Caroline," Booth said firmly yet teasingly.

Her sigh was heavy, but understanding. "I get it. Good night, cherie."

Joy's father gave a small chuckle before handing the phone back to his daughter. "They caught the bad guys. Be a dear and hang that up, then go to bed."

She smiled and kissed her father's cheek. "Night Dad, night Mom." She took the phone and placed it back on the cradle, then headed downstairs for a drink of water.

"What happened?"

Joy jumped a little at the unexpected voice coming from the couch. "Jeezme, Kent. Don't scare me like that."

The teenage boy continued to stare at her, his green eyes reflecting what little light there was from the streetlamps outside. The sheets on the pull-out futon couch were clinging to his body, like he was a mummy fighting free of his bindings. His hair was sticking out every which way, making him look younger than he was. This new, softer Kent was a little vulnurable, unlike the rough chop-shop boy who teased her regularly.

"What happened?" he asked again. Fear was a slight coloring in his voice. "Why won't you tell me?"

Joy took a breath, then went over to him. "Relax. Montinelli tried to whack you, but the safehouse was a trap. They got the guy who capped Hollister." She flashed a brilliant smile at him. "Don't worry. My parents got it covered."

Kent exhaled, a long shaky sigh, and hugged her tight. Joy stiffened at the unexpected contact. "Thank you," he whispered gratefully. "Thanks, Squint."

She hugged him back. "It's nothing Kent. Seriously."

Then Joy woke up a couple hours later and heard something slapping downstairs. Curious, she crept downstairs and called out, "Kent? You okay?"

The living room was empty, the futon sheets rumpled and unmade. The window was open, and the curtains wafted in the breeze.

Kent was gone.

She had her phone open, his speed dial hit, and at her ear before the first dial tone sounded. It rang twice before his tired "Hello?" echoed into her ear.

"Kent, where the hell are you?" Joy demanded.

A deep sigh. "Trust me when I say that it's better that you don't know, Squint."

"Don't feed me that BS!" she snapped. Cradling her cell on her shoulder, Joy quickly ran back upstairs and pulled on a pair of jeans, throwing a hoodie over her pajama T-shirt. "Tell me where you are, right now!" she demanded, stuffing her feet into her sneakers.

"Squint, this isn't open for discussion. Now get off the goddamn line."

"Screw that!" In the background she could hear a set of bells chiming - the door chimes at the pawnshop on 6th and Sweet Road. "I'm coming down there."

"No Joy, don't you dare!" But the rest of his refusal was cut off when Joy hung up.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%~~~~~~~~%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Squint! SQUINT!" Kent scowled as the dial tone droned in his ear. "Dammit. Stupid girl." Snapping his phone shut, he leaned against the brick wall and glanced around the intersection.

The early morning hours in D.C. were always sketchy, especially where he was. Hookers roamed the streets, strutting through the muted streetlights like colorful birds. A couple dealers 'did business' in the darker alleys, servicing their junkie clients. Homeless people squatted on stoops and inside cardboard boxes. All of them reacted the same once the squad car showed up, though. The hookers stopped hooking, the dealers stopped dealing, and the homeless scuttled into their cardboard homes. Kent pulled his baseball cap lower and tried to blend in.

As the car passed, he prayed that Joy hadn't blown the whistle on him. After the call from Miss Caroline, he had snuck out of the Booth home and checked in on his brother's family. Greg and Carol were okay. But they'd recieved a note tacked to their front door.

Kent - Corner of 6th and Sweet Road. Come alone.

Short and succinct. Just like the unspoken promise. And no one else gets hurt. Kent rolled his head around on his neck. He was still pissed about the call from Joy, and pissed was not the way he wanted to meet the Devils.

"I didn't think you'd show."

Kent raised an eyebrow in mild shock. "Vesper." The middleman for several deals, Adam Vesper had gone underground after Montinelli was arrested. Word had gone around that he'd squealed to Feds for a deal. Apparently that wasn't true, or else he wouldn't be meeting Kent at that shady street corner.

"Guess you've finally come around," Vesper said with a greasy smile on his face. Kent resisted the urge to sock this scumbag in the mouth. "Good. Now come on, we've got a place to be."

"Whatever you've got to say to me you can say here," Kent said, planting his feet and bracing himself. "Unless you want me to disappear like Hollister did."

Vesper spat on the street. "Hollister flipped. He had to be taken care of."

"And the accident to cover up his torture? There was a federal investigator in that car, asshole!" Given the situation, Kent felt obligated to stretch Hodgins' official title. "If you'd killed that Fed, my ass would've been grass!"

The middleman wasn't fazed. "See, this is why you're green," he said, shoving a finger in Kent's face. "You lack guts, Tyler. Guts to do what has to be done."

"I've done plenty for the Devils." The teenager's voice was cold as liquid nitrogen. "Then I got out."

"No, you flipped on Montinelli." Vesper's demeanor changed. "That takes guts, but also comes with consequences. You remember our arrangement?" With a flick of his finger to the brim, Vesper knocked Kent's cap off. "Remember what you said, Tyler?"

Slowly the boy nodded. "I keep my nose out of it, and you wouldn't hurt them."

"Very good. But see, now you're gonna spill." Vesper seemed to ramble, pacing in front of Kent like a stalking lion. From the corner of his peripheral, Kent could see men slinking out of the dark alleys and heading closer. The squad car was long gone. The other denizens of the night had cleared out - everyone knew something was going down. "Now, you're thinking of telling, aren't you?"

"It had crossed my mind." No sense lying now, he reasoned.

Vesper wagged his finger. "A dangerous game is what you're playing, Tyler. Remember that if you tell, you'll be endangering your family."

"Nice try, jackass, but my brother and sister-in-law are in protective custody." More lying. He was surprised his nose wasn't growing faster than mold in a shower room right now.

Now he was completely surrounded. Vesper was beginning to grin like a doped nutcase. "You think we'd buy that? Feds don't give protective custody to the family of a third-rate chop-shop brat."

"Okay first, I was the best chop-shop boy you had," Kent snapped. His professional pride settled, he continued. "Second, Feds give protective custody to those who give good testimony. Especially to those who put away high-ranking gang bosses."

"Which, unfortunately, has made you persona non grata among the Devils," Vesper said with mock regret. The surrounding goons began to pull out weapons.

Kent had to crack a joke. "Since when do you know Latin, Vesper? Lemme guess - altar boy."

"Cocky little - " But Vesper stopped mid-curse and smiled again. A greasy smile that Kent didn't like one bit. "I think we can resolve this matter peacefully. Cordially, in fact."

"Isn't it a bad idea to use your entire vocabulary in a single sentance?" Kent quipped, trying to calm himself. Not good. Vesper's never this calm unless he has an ace in the hole.

"Perhaps you need..........some persuasion," Vesper practically purred, sounding like a grating car transmission.

Kent tried very hard to look nonchalant. "Persuasion?" He did not like where this was heading.

"That pretty little thing you hang out with a lot. The Fed's daughter.......what was her name?"

"Booth," supplied one of the meatheads with a knife behind Vesper.

The weasely man snapped his fingers. "Right! Joy Booth. Child of the famous Special Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan. Sweet kid." The smile grew even more sinister. "Maybe the boys would like to meet her."

And there's the unveiled threat, thought Kent. Crude, inelegant, and blatantly obvious. And it's done its work. It has pissed me off.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Montinelli the day he threatened me with that same thing," Kent said. "Pay attention."

One thin eyebrow rose on Vesper's face. "Oh? What is it?"

"If anything happens to her," he said slowly, deliberately stressing every word, "I will find you, and I will kill you. I won't think twice. This is between you and me. Nobody sees, nobody knows."**** The way he spoke promised that he said every word with conviction.

Vesper laughed, but it was forced. "Oh really? And what if something does happen?"

A feral wolf-like snarl twisted his features into a contorted mask of rage. "You touch Joy, and I promise this. I'll hunt you down, tie you up, and feed you through the same variety of machines I used to chop cars."

The rest of the middleman's sputtering was cut off by the loud VROOOM! of an incoming vehicle. Headlights blasted the darkness to shreds, causing the assembled Devils to shout and try to make a break for freedom. Squad cars shot into the street, cutting off all exits. Uniforms, cops and Feds, poured from the alleys with their weapons drawn, shouting at the gang members to lower their weapons.

Kent was momentarily stunned. A split second after the streaks cleared his eyes, he realized that he may be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Checking if any of the cops or agents saw him, the teenage boy began to edge towards the alley in a hope to avoid detection.

"Tyler!"

That shout killed any thought of running. He'd know that voice anywhere. "Squint?" he called, trying to see her through the confusion of light, arrests, and bodies. "Squint!"

A petite form slid and dodged the bigger adults' bodies to come racing into Kent's arms. He caught Joy and held her close, surprised that she had actually found him. "I told you not to come, dammit," he whispered. "Why don't you ever listen?"

"Be grateful, you idiot," she grunted back, pulling away from him. "I called in the whole damn cavalry before hopping on my bike to make sure you were okay." A grin brightened up her pale face; she'd been really worried, Kent realized. She called him Tyler just now. She never did that, not unless she was really freaked. It was then that he realized exactly how badly Vesper's threat had scared him.

Agent Booth came up on what was turning into a very cute moment and managed to ruin it in record time. "Kent, you mind explaining what's going on here?"

The boy looked up at the father of his best friend. "Ambush, Agent Booth. They threatened my family."

The FBI ex-sniper nodded. "All right then. Joy, take him back home please? Your mom's waiting until you get back."

Joy nodded and tried pulling Kent along, but Kent spotted Vesper being led to a nearby squad car in handcuffs. Motioning to Joy to wait, he went over to the middleman.

"Montinelli will have your ass by noon!" he yelled as the teenager approached.

"You got nothing to prove to me, Vesper," Kent retorted. "Now if you don't mind, I'll leave first because I have somewhere I have to be."**** He leaned forward and whispered into the man's ear, "Remember - nobody sees, nobody knows."

Joy was waiting by her bike when he returned. "What did you say?" she asked.

He smiled weakly, blinking as the flashing police lights moved to transport their criminal cargo. "Nothing," he said, sitting on her bike despite her protests. "Get on the back wheel. I'll drive you home."

Joy looked like she wanted to continue interrogating him, but a yawn interrupted her. With a resigned sigh she stood on the back wheel axel and held onto his shoulders as Kent pedaled back to her house.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%~~~~~~~~%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Friday came, and with it, Richter "Earthquake" Montinelli's final appeal. Joy waited outside with her mother, fidgeting in the car and twitching like an ADHD child hopped up on sugar and caffeine.

"Joy, it's not going to go any faster if you keep staring at the clock." Temperance chided her daughter gently, knowing the weight of the trial's outcome was stressing Joy out. "I'm sure Kent's testimony will be factual and that the board will understand his reasons."

"What could he possibly know?" Joy asked. She'd asked Kent the same question before they'd gone to bed the night of the arrests, and again all the next day, and this morning before he'd been picked up to be escorted to the courtroom.

Temperance looked at the building. Her pale blue eyes seemed to will the stones invisible, as if she could actually see into the courtroom. "We will learn soon, Joy. We will learn soon."

Joy fidgeted with her hands. She recalled earlier that morning when Kent had gotten ready in the Booth house just before the agents had arrived to take him away..............

"Do you really have to do this?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I mean, testify again. Don't they have it on file?"

"Montinelli's called my testimony into question," he replied, attempting to tie the plain navy tie around his neck. "I have to give it again and deal with his crap. Don't worry Squint, I won't trip up." He flashed a smug smile. "That jackass won't have any way in to tear me apart."

The tie failed to lie flat, and Kent reacted like a spoiled child. "Dammit!" he snapped, clawing at the too-tight knot until it resembled a misshapen lump of fabric. "Screw it!"

Joy sighed and pushed his hands away from the mess. "Calm down," she said, applying her own hands to unravel the tie. "You're too impatient. It takes practice and skill to tie a necktie properly."

"Of which I have little to none," grumbled the chop-shop boy.

Looking up to him, Joy replicated the smug smile he'd given her only minutes before. "And that's why you have me, Kent," she replied sweetly, pulling the tie apart in one yank.

Kent gave a smirk as well. "What would I do without you?" he joked.

"Look like a defective moron in front of a board of appeal," she jested, tying the necktie correctly. When it looked perfect, she didn't let go, instead fiddling with the knot to keep it perfectly centered. "Kent, what is this testimony? What could be so important that it halted your sentancing?"

It was like watching a sunset. Kent's expression changed slowly, losing the humorous glow and turning serious as death. "You don't need to know, Squint," he said, taking her hands in his and pulling them away from his tie. "Trust me." He blinked and looked at their joined hands, then dropped hers with a slight blush. "Look, I'll tell you what happened afterwards, okay? Just let it alone."

Temperance watched as her daughter's frame relaxed against the backseat of the car. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah Mom, I'm fine," Joy replied. A tiny smile curled one side of her mouth. "Because I know, in time, that he will tell me. I believe in him."

The forensic anthropologist smiled as well when she realized Joy had quoted her from before. "Exactly."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%~~~~~~~~%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Well, that was annoying," Kent said, rolling his shoulder in the socket to stretch out the kinks. "That stupid witness stand is really uncomfortable."

"I don't care how much it hurt, I'm just glad there were no inconsistencies," Caroline Julian said, fanning herself with the case file. "Now Big Bad Earthquake can go rot in jail until they bury his bones."

Booth put a hand on Kent's shoulder, stopping the teenager from leaving the courthouse. "Kent, can I have a word?"

"What's up?" Kent asked, for once not cocky or disrespectful.

"Is that true, what you said up there?" Booth asked. "He threatened Joy?"

Kent's eyes went cold. "Yeah," he breathed, as if trying to restrain his anger. "It was two days before the bust, and I wanted out. He threatened to kill my family, but I knew Greg could slither out before any harm was done. But Squint - " He shook his head and locked gazes with Booth. "I wasn't about to put her in danger."

"So you threatened him."

"Wouldn't you?"

I would, and I have. The FBI agent fixed his stare on Kent. "Give it to me straight, for once. What did you say to Montinelli just then? Because he looked pale as a ghost."

Kent thought back after the appeal board had ruled against Montinelli and the court had let out.......

"This isn't over," snarled the former second-in-command of the 666 Devils as Kent walked past him. "I'll have my revenge, you chop-shop brat. I'll have your family and your little girlfriend killed, and you'll know it was me. You'll know it was your fault."

With a charming smile, Kent leaned closer to the dangerous, albiet shackled, criminal. "You willing to risk your life?" he whispered. "Because Special Agent Booth - " he pointed to the FBI agent waiting by the back door, who brushed his suit jacket back to reach for his sidearm, "is her dad, and he's a crack shot. So don't." Green eyes locked with the cold eyes of the gang leader. "Or you'll regret it."

"What can he possibly do?" Montinelli scoffed, paling at the mention of the famous agent's name.

Kent's grin was cold and malicious. "You really don't want to know."

"Kent?"

The boy blinked, realizing he'd been thinking deeply about what had happened. "Oh, I just reminded him how much people inside hate his guts," he replied before changing the subject. "Is my brother here?"

"Yeah, he should be outside with Bones and Joy." Booth steered Kent outside where, sure enough, both of their families were eagerly awaiting the news. With them were the Hodgins, Jack and Emily having been discharged from the hospital, and the Jeffersonian team. Everyone swarmed around Kent and Booth, asking a dozen questions at once.

It was later, after much celebrating at the Founding Fathers restaurant and toasts to Kent's bravery and the closing of another case, that Joy and Kent finally got some alone time in the park to talk. They took their customary swings and rocked back and forth as Kent told her everything - well, everything except his threatening of a dangerous criminal boss. And on her behalf. She would've decked him.

"So, no sentance for you?" Joy asked at his tale's conclusion.

He nodded. "Nope. Just another month of parole and I'm home free." He stood up and held his hand out to her. "C'mon Squint, I'll walk you home."

She took his hand and followed him down the street. "No more gangbangers lookin' to jump you?" she half-teased.

The redheaded boy laughed. "Nope. Not anymore." He added in an undertone, "Not after what I warned Vesper would happen if they did....."

"What?"

"Nothing." He grinned again. "Let's go, I'm cold."

Joy sighed. "You're such a baby. It's not that cold out." At that moment, she chose to shiver. Kent shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She grabbed at the lapels and argued, "I don't need it!"

"Yeah right. Your teeth are chattering."

"Kent, take it back! You just said you were cold."

"I'll survive. My shirt has longer sleeves."

"I'm not a weakling!"

"But if you get a cold, your dad's gonna blame me."

".........Yeah, that's true."

"Okay then."

"Okay."

"..........."

"I'm glad you're okay, Kent."

"So am I, Squint. So am I."

I had to give Kent some epic Booth lines. They're just great lines to give the bad guys!

A.N.

Again, Chinese is from Firefly.

* - "Idiot."

** - "A knot of self-indulged lunacy."

*** - First mentioned in Season 1, Episode 15 "Two Bodies in the Lab."

**** - said by Booth in Season 1, Episode 13 "The Woman in the Garden."