Same disclaimers apply! I was going to wait til the weekend to update, but after seeing how many new followers I was getting, I decided to speed up the process. Enjoy!


"How sure are you about this?" Booth asked as Brennan's young intern accompanied him in his black SUV toward the FBI building, with Sweets in the backseat.

"Nine-point-six, give or take a tenth or two," she replied. "The unaccounted point-four is due to the lack of physical proof, but Hodgins is putting together a profile of the particulates from the mass spec, so we should hear from him soon with something more tangible to work with besides the bones and our profile."

"Nine-point-six, huh? Couldn't you have just been normal and picked a whole number?"

"Hey, I was raised by two cops, and my best friend is a genius who was stupid enough to get himself locked up in a loony bin. I've never been normal, Agent Booth."

"No, but you certainly are something. How'd you come up with this theory of yours, anyway?"

"Hypothesis," Kylie corrected. "A theory would imply that it's been tested and proven multiple times before, which it hasn't."

"Do I look like I care? What'd you two figure out?" Booth waved a hand in the air, taking a hand off the wheel.

"Doctor Sweets and I were discussing our killer's profile yesterday after I finished up at the lab, and while the evidence we have still points to Jackson Harding, he didn't do it. He doesn't have enough knowledge of human anatomy and/or physiology to administer that exact dosage of anesthetic that Cam worked out," she explained.

"You've heard of 'stage parents', right Booth?" Sweets jumped into the conversation to prevent Kylie from having to reveal their therapy sessions.

"Those nuts who always want their kids to be the best at everything and show 'em off all the damn time? Yeah," he nodded.

"His mom exhibits traits that suggest that she was or is a stage parent. Remember the last couple times we talked to Jackson and his mom?" the psychologist continued. "Every time he would try to add something, she'd always stop him or try to talk over him, and he'd concede to her. His sideways glances and body language all indicated that he had trouble thinking for himself in his mom's presence, as though he was hiding something."

"Or they both were," Kylie adjusted her hypothesis. How could she have missed it? The post-mortem fractures were staring her right in the face the entire time, and she had completely overlooked it. Someone with Jackson's strength definitely could have crushed part of the victim's remains, as well as his skull.

"Agent Booth, could you please, please trust me on this?" Kylie huffed as he blocked the entryway to the interrogation room.

"I'm not supposed to let you go in there alone."

"Look, we're not going to get the answers we're looking for if you come with me."

"You're a squint," Booth said impatiently.

"A squint that grew up with two cops," Kylie modified his words. "I know all the tricks in the book. I even came up with a few of my own."

"Well even if you are capable, protocol states I can't let you in there by yourself without a federal agent," he pointed out.

"But Doctor Brennan's been in there by herself," she reminded him, "and I'm acting in her place for this case, therefore it's only logical that I'm granted the same privileges that she has."

"Just do what you gotta do," Booth headed to the other side of the room, not in the mood to argue with a mini-Brennan.


"You've gotta be fucking kiddin' me, man!" Jackson threw his arms in the air. "I told y'all everything I know!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kylie held up her hands, entering the interrogation room. "I'm not here to question you. Just wanna chat, that's all."

"About what?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "In an interrogation room?

"Football," she replied with a smirk, sitting herself on one of the chairs across from him and crossing her right leg over her left. "And it's protocol. Can't really do much about that."

"Yeah? You tellin' me y'all brought me here just to talk about football?"

"That's right," she nodded before taking a seat and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "And there's no we. It was my idea."

"You always this much of a smartass?" Jackson's nostrils flared.

"I've been told several times I have an attitude, yeah," she nodded. "But this is strictly football. I promise."

"So you, a girl, want to talk football?"

"Sexist much?" Kylie could hear Sweets getting defensive on the other side, to which she looked through the glass to signal him to calm down. Booth pushed him back slightly, shooting him a warning look before turning his attention back to Kylie.

"You'd be surprised at how much I know," she replied knowingly. "Your stats are nowhere near as good as the third and fourth string quarterbacks, and you are far too heavy to rush for a first down if you can't complete a play. I mean, at the rate you throw, I bet my 80-year-old grandma could throw better than you. With your size, you'd make a much better cornerback or safety. What's your secret?"

"What do you mean, what's my secret?" the suspect got defensive.

"How do you do it?" she rolled her eyes.

"Obviously Coach thinks I'm good enough."

"Bullshit," she shook her head. "Doesn't take a genius to see what a fucking lie that is. Anyone can go online and see that you basically suck compared to the rest of the team. So what's up? Did you bribe the coach or something?"

"Good, good," Booth said from the other side. "Something's definitely up. I don't know what the hell kind of method you're using, but it's working."

"He's nervous," Sweets added excitedly. "It's only a matter of time now."

"No, no, no! That's not what happened, alright?" Jackson sighed on the other side.

"Ha! So you're admitting there was something going on," the young girl smiled triumphantly.

"I feel like there was, yeah," he nodded. "Definitely didn't expect to get on the team, that's for sure."

"How do you like it? The college football life, I mean."

"It's cool," he shrugged. "I know I'm not as good as the other guys there, but I'm just happy to be there. Football was always Rocky's thing, even though he and I'd played together for years. This was what he wanted, man. I was just along for the ride to support him. But I do get first dibs on classes, so that's pretty nice."

"What about the actual football?" she pressed on.

"I love football, don't get me wrong," Jackson leaned closer. "But it'd be just as cool with me not being on the team."

"You're a go-with-the-flow kinda guy, aren't you?" Kylie leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.

"Well, yeah, I guess you could say that," he agreed. "Sure don't worry a whole lot."

"But those tryouts. Those were intense, right? That didn't rattle your cage?"

"Technically I didn't try out," admitted the Georgetown student-slash-football player.

"Bullshit," Kylie raised her eyebrows. "Everyone's gotta try out. Or be observed by the coach at the very least."

"My mom said Coach was willing to put me on the team without a tryout," he shrugged.

"Why? Compared to the rest of your teammates, you suck. You said so yourself." Come on, Jackson, she thought. Give me something here. I know you're up to something.

"My mom," he swallowed. "I don't…I don't know what she meant when she said it, but…"

"Your mom?" Kylie waved her hands to prompt him as he clammed up. "Come on, man, you can tell me. There's no one else here. Just you and me."

"Wells! What the hell are you doing?!" Booth was protesting from behind the room. Had Brennan's mini version just lost her mind?

"Can't you see? She's manipulating him," Sweets gestured to the two. "We're not actually turning anything off."

"Right," Booth pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So? Your mom," Kylie persisted. "What did she say?"

"She said," Jackson tapped his fingers on the table nervously. "She said she took care of it."

"So you got on the team because of your mom," Kylie stated.

"Well, it wasn't because of her," he began defending his mother.

"Of course it was because of her. Your mom was having an affair with your football coach. Does your dad know?"

"What...But…She can't do that!" Booth brought both hands to his head. "Only I can do that!"

"Looks like she picked up a thing or two from you," Lance smiled proudly. "Now shut up before she gets annoyed with us."

"It's not an affair! My parents have been divorced for the past six months!" the college student slammed a hand on the table in the room.

"So you knew?" It was always an affair, she observed. It always played a part in murder investigations somehow, and it made her sad.

"No!" he insisted. "My mom brought him over for dinner one time, but I had no freakin' clue he was the Georgetown coach, I swear!"

"You make me look like a really good liar, you know," Kylie unrelentingly scolded him. "And I'm wicked terrible."

"So you knew I was lying from the moment you brought me here to talk about 'football'?" he raised his eyebrows in shock.

"Wow, you are an idiot," Kylie laughed. "You just admitted to lying, you know that?" She smiled and shook her head. "You sure aren't acting like the victim's best friend. Rocky would be so disappointed in you."

"Have you ever lost someone close to you?" Jackson asked. "Do you know what it feels like? Having your other half just ripped away from you?"

"Do my parents count?" she retorted in the same tone. "Yeah, don't talk to me about loss. That's all I really know about these days."

"Kylie, don't make this personal," Lance warned her.

"How's she doing?" Booth whispered, turning off the microphone. "You helping her?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that," Sweets kept mum about the therapy, flipping the microphone switch back on. "Can we focus, please?"

Meanwhile, Jackson Harding was crumbling under the pressure Kylie was placing on him, just the way she wanted him to. "…Can't you cut me some slack? I just lost my best friend!"

"I'm not doing anything," Kylie shrugged indifferently. "Now quit your sob story and tell me something worth my time, will you?"

"I didn't mean to!" he sobbed. "She didn't mean to!"

"Not really making things easier, but go on," Kylie rolled her eyes. "Who's 'she'?"

"My…my mom," he breathed.

"Your mom?"

"Y-y-yeah," his voice was barely above a whisper.

"So let me get this straight: you helped your mom cover up the fact that she stole a fatal dose of anesthesia from your father's office and murdered your best friend after the Fordham game in an alley one block from the stadium two weeks ago. And under your mother's watch, you helped cover it up by smashing up his skull and some of his bones to make it difficult to discern his identity." Mike was right, she thought. Family sticks together, through the ups and downs, no matter how bad things might get. Blood really is thicker than water.

"She only wanted me to have the best opportunity possible," he sniffed through more sobs. "I didn't think she was gonna kill him! She did it for me! She murdered my best friend, but she did it for me!"

"Oh, is that how she rationalized her actions with you? Really?" Kylie laughed mirthlessly, marveling at the many contradictions he was making.

"Yeah," Jackson shrugged. "I'm fucking pissed at her, obviously. Rocky and I'd been friends since before we could walk, but like I said, she did it for me. I can't help but feel…flattered that she could go to the extremes like that for me."

"Wow," Kylie shook her head. If anyone deserved to go to a loony bin, it was this guy. His mom clearly brainwashed him into believing that she did the right thing, and that he was doing the right thing in covering it up. As far as she was concerned, both mother and son were sick in the head and could use some mental health treatment.

"Was that a good wow, or a bad wow?" Jackson frowned.

"You're under arrest for obstruction of justice in a murder investigation and lying to a federal agent," Agent Booth stormed into the interrogation room, handcuffs in hand. "Does that answer your question? You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. You have the right to an attorney…"

"And my mother?" Jackson Harding asked weakly.

"Oh don't worry, we'll take care of her, too," Kylie assured him with a satisfied smile. "We're piling up evidence against her as we speak. She's not the only chick who knows her way around a body."

"Don't refer to my mom as a 'chick,' you heartless bitch," Jackson lunged at the young Jeffersonian intern, to which she responded with a firm right hook to his jaw, knocking him onto the ground.

"And that is how I got suspended from school for a week when I was 14," she crouched down so that she was eye-level with the suspect.

Agent Booth should have apprehended Bones' intern for her actions, but he couldn't help but smile instead. If she weren't a squintern at the Jeffersonian, she'd make a damn good FBI field agent. You raised a fine daughter, Chief Deputy Wells. If only you could see her today. You'd be damn proud of her.


So as you can tell, this story is sadly coming to an end. But don't worry, all lose ends will be tied up before the end, and everything will be resolved in as many chapters as needed. Thank y'all so much for following/reading/favoriting/etc.!