Same disclaimers as always!


Kylie swiped her card to the forensics platform, with Doctor Brennan at her heels. It was rather annoying when someone watched over her shoulder while she worked, but it had to be done, for her sake.

As Dr. Brennan had promised, she made no comments as Kylie reexamined the bones for anything she might have missed and compared any new findings to her notes. She had determined that the right tibia and fibula had been deliberately broken by an as-of-yet unidentified axe post-mortem, but she had trouble determining cause of death. There were no bullet wounds present that she could find, and there were no signs of strangling or trauma to the head . The victim's 6'4", 250-pound frame would prove difficult to inflict physical harm on; whoever killed him planned the murder extremely carefully.

She was sure that the killer was significantly weaker than the victim, Rocky Johnson, the star quarterback at Georgetown. The trauma near his sternum and clavicle indicated that the killer used a heavy, blunt object to subdue him, but that still didn't explain the fractures in his ankles.

"Brennan," Kylie heard her mentor answer her phone as she began coming up with hypotheses for a possible murder scenario. "Of course. She's just finishing up her bone examinations. We should be there shortly."

"You're observing me outside the lab, too?" Kylie asked confusedly as Doctor Brennan led her to her blue Prius. She was secretly relieved to take a break from the bones; she had found nothing new from the first few times she had looked over them. Perhaps some time with the interrogations would bring her attention to something she'd overlooked and help piece together some of Hodgins' or Cam's findings.

"Like I said before, I am curious about your insight into a killer's mind, so yes, my evaluation of you would include your activity with Booth outside the lab, as well. Booth has requested your presence during these interrogations," Brennan replied with no emotion.

Kylie hadn't witnessed an interrogation since she was a pre-teen. Her father hadn't wanted her around during interrogations because he didn't want to traumatize her, but being the stubborn child she was, she snuck into the listening room anyway and observed both her father's abilities to get information or catch liars and the suspects' body language in response to her fathers' actions.

"Miss Wells, this is Doctor Lance Sweets," Brennan introduced the young psychologist to her intern as they entered the other side of one of the interrogation room of the J. Edgar Hoover building, unaware that the two of them were already quite well acquainted.

Kylie and Lance, both aware of the present situation, kept up their respective appearances.

"Pleasure to meet you," Kylie gave her friend a firm handshake.

"And you as well," he nodded with a polite smile.

"He will be present in this room for psychological support, should you need it," Brennan replied.

"What about you, Doctor Brennan?" Sweets turned to the forensic anthropologist.

"Kylie Wells is the surrogate forensic anthropologist for this case," Brennan replied. "Consulting of any kind should go through her."

"Alright," Sweets nodded as she stepped back into the shadows. He turned to Kylie. "Booth has an ear piece that enables us to assist him with interrogations without actually having to be there with him. If you see anything off, don't hesitate to tell him." He stepped aside to open up the space in front of the microphone.

"Understood," Kylie gulped, more nervous than she'd expected. Her final memory with her father consisted of him standing where she currently stood as he'd assisted with a high-profile investigation involving a serial killer on the loose for the past seven years at the time. He hadn't wanted her out of his sight because of the alleged killer's presence, so he'd brought her into the listening room, where she'd sat on the chair beside him while he assisted the police officer interrogating the suspect. The memory was bittersweet now as she focused on the task at hand; she inhaled, resisting the urge to shed a few tears in front of both Lance and her mentor.

Listening to Booth interrogating the current suspect, the victim's football coach, she decided to test some hypotheses she had made while examining the bones.

"Judging from the lack of fatal trauma to the bones, as all the fractures and striations present were either post-mortem or nonfatal, the killer most likely poisoned him or injected him with some lethal fluid," Kylie spoke into the microphone, "He or she covered up their tracks pretty well; we still haven't found what did it, but I don't think we should be looking at the coach. We're looking for someone way more educated, ideally with a medical background."

"I agree," Lance turned to his friend. "Our killer knew a thing or two about covering up tracks. The coach lacks a motive, but he knows something."

"The players weren't as fond of our victim as the coach was. Ask him who's a med or pre-med student on the team," Kylie said to Booth.

Booth nodded subtly. The coach interpreted this nod as him listening to him intently, so he went on.

"He's not our killer," Lance shook his head.

"Find out how his best friend, Jackson Harding, got onto the team," an idea suddenly came to Kylie. What if Jackson had somehow bribed his coach with money to give him a spot on the team and killed his best friend out of jealousy so that he could finally have the chance to shine? From her experiences, jealousy was always a potential motive for murder.

"We talked to him," the psychologist said. "His alibi checked out, and their friendship was solid. Jealousy didn't play a part here."

"We need to talk to him again," she insisted. "It might not be him, but someone connected to him. Was he dating anyone? Was our victim?"

Not wanting to argue in front of Doctor Brennan, Lance urged Booth, "Let him go. We might need to talk to him again, but right now we need Jackson Harding."

"What are you thinking, Squint?" Booth asked, storming out of the interrogation room and confronting the 22-year-old brunette who had hampered his momentum. "We had him there!"

"I have a name, you know," she crossed her arms. "And like I said, we need to talk to the victim's best friend again."

"Fine, but you're doing the honors," Booth shook his head, frustrated with both the squint and the shrink, although secretly impressed with the amount of gut she had. "Tomorrow, 8am."

Kylie swiftly departed the interrogation room, with Brennan on her heels. She couldn't help it; being in that room brought back memories of her father, and after nearly 10 years, she still hadn't fully recovered emotionally from his death.

"Doctor Brennan," Lance Sweets caught up with the two women. "Could I see Miss Wells in my office?"

"What for?" Brennan asked suspiciously.

"This was her first interrogation," he replied quickly, thinking on his feet. "I just want to help her process anything she might've had trouble with, since they can be intimidating at first." His reasoning was partially true, but he also needed an excuse to catch up with her, since she had practically confined herself to the lab ever since she had been given the reigns for their case, and truth be told, he missed her.

"She seemed just fine to me, Sweets."

"With all due respect, people aren't your strongest point," he smiled. "I'll make sure she gets back to the lab within the next hour."

"Fine," Doctor Brennan huffed. "One hour."


"Where'd you learn to do that?" Lance couldn't help but ask as he placed the "busy" sign on his window.

"Do what?" she asked innocently.

"You just helped profile our potential killer," he said, knowing fully well that she knew what he was asking.

"So?" Her defense mechanisms kicked in the way they had done with Booth. Her opening up to him was a one-time thing, she tried to tell herself. It wouldn't happen again.

"I saw you in there," he said, sitting next to her on the same couch they had hooked up in the last time they met. "You looked like you'd done that before."

Kylie looked from the suede material of the couch up into Lance's warm brown eyes, internally debating if she should also open up to him.

"If it helps, I already know," he went on, even if she didn't answer. Out of concern for Brennan's intern, Booth had told him what she'd just shared shortly after he'd taken her to breakfast.

"He told you?" she asked in a low, angry voice. Kylie had shared parts of her life with Booth in confidence. How could he betray that?

"He was worried about you," Lance took one of Kylie's hands in his. "And I am, too. That's the only reason he told me. I promise."

"I never should've told him," Kylie's voice wavered. "It's so much easier when fewer people are involved."

"You do realize that your persona is a compilation of feelings and unresolved issues you've been bottling up over time," Lance switched into shrink mode; he wasn't confident enough to be able to provide her objective counsel as a friend.

"Stop it, Lance." Millions of tiny vibrations flowed through her body as she felt her invisible walls slowly start to crumble.

"If you keep going like this, you will be deemed psychologically unstable and unfit for work, and not just at the Jeffersonian," he tried again, gripping her hand tighter.

"So what? I'm destined for a loony bin?" she scoffed mirthlessly. She already knew she was mentally unstable. "You gonna make an exchange? Me for Zack, who we both know shouldn't even be there?"

"Don't talk like that," Sweets' voice turned dark. "You didn't ask for any of what you've been through, but you need help."

"No!" she shouted. "I don't!"

"Yes," he placed both hands on her shoulders, massaging them with his thumbs. "You do. It's not too late, Kylie, but you have to let me help you. Or Booth, if you'd prefer, but personally, I like to think I'm better at keeping things close to the chest." Lance usually made it a point to separate his work and personal lives, but Kylie was making it hard for him to do so. He knew from their very first conversation that she'd suffered from severe emotional damage, and not just from Zack's current situation, but he'd made a mental note to not bring it up until the time was right.

"Do you remember what I told you that night?" he asked softly when she'd calmed down.

"You told me a lot of things that night." Despite her slow emotional breakdown, she still retained her stubbornness.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't," she lied.

"You're not the only one good at detecting liars, Miss Wells," he smirked. "I'd like you to repeat what I told you."

"Why?"

"You know why."

With much effort on her end, she finally relented. "Expressing and admitting my emotions is the first step to healing."

"Very good, Miss Wells," he nodded.

"Could you please stop calling me that?"

"Only if you cooperate." Their friendship had grown from the first time they'd met even more so ever since they'd decided to slow things down between them. He hated doing this to her, but it was necessary if she was going to finally get the help she needed.

Kylie's breathing rate increased heavily, adjusting to the fact that her previously closed wounds had been reopened. Or opened more, she should say, because they'd never really closed to begin with; that much was certain. Despite her belligerent demeanor when it came to her personal life and background, she secretly appreciated Lance giving enough of a crap about her to actually want to help her, unlike the grief counselor who spent more time pitying her and her brother than actually helping them process their emotions.

"When do we start?" she gave in, allowing herself another chance for someone to help her.

"Tomorrow," he answered. "You name the place."

"Like a date?" she asked hopefully.

"No," he shook his head firmly. "In all honesty, you're not in a position to pursue any sort of romantic relationship right now."

"But you're not denying that you want it, too," she stated.

"No, I'm not," he admitted. "But for now, it's best if we keep things where they are. It won't end well for either of us if we go any further at this point."

"The diner," she decided. "Strictly professional. After I finish up at the lab."

"I look forward to it, Kylie," he smiled as he escorted her out of his room.

"You called me Kylie!" her face lit up. "Are you back to being Lance again?"

"Don't push it." Despite his attempt to be serious, she sensed an ever so slight teasing hint to his voice, and she smiled to herself. Maybe a little change wouldn't be so bad.


For the rest of the story, I won't be focusing much the contents of the interrogations that Kylie participates in because it's her skills in the lab that matter more to the plot; the other stuff is just icing on the cake that is inevitable due to her upbringing. This was just kind of a kick off of the case with her at the wheel. And just a heads up, I'm starting school again in less than a week, so I unfortunately won't be updating this as often as I currently do, but I'm not abandoning the story, I promise! On another note, I've reached 10 followers! Yay! I know it's not a lot compared to other stuff I've written, or other Bones stories out there, but I'm still very happy about it! I also want to thank everyone for reading/following/favoriting/etc. Even if y'all don't post reviews all the time, whenever I get a new favorite/follow, I know people are reading it and I must be doing something right. Thank you all so much again, and stay tuned!