Can you believe this is chapter 100? This was only supposed to be a short story, but you can see how that panned out. Thank you for supporting my story. I really appreciate it since there are so many fanfic authors out there for you to support.

I don't own Bones, not even a little bit.

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Curious as to why the lamp was on in the living room, Booth entered the house and looked around the room. Spying a dark shape standing in the kitchen doorway, Booth felt for the gun he kept in a holster on the back of his belt.

"Don't move, Booth, I'm not going to hurt you." Stepping out of the dark kitchen, Brodsky pointed a beretta at Booth and smiled, "I just want to talk to you."

His hands moving back to his sides, Booth stared at his friend with anger, "Why the gun then and why break into my house?"

Motioning for the former FBI agent to walk over to the couch, Brodsky smiled, "Because you used to be FBI and I know you'd probably feel obligated to capture me if you could. Hey, you'll notice I waited to talk to you when I knew your wife wasn't going to be here. You should give me points for that."

Careful not to make any sudden moves, Booth walked slowly over to the couch but at the last minute decided to take at least a little control of the situation. Moving further, he sat down on the easy chair next to the couch instead, "What do you want Jacob? I'm not a cop anymore and I don't have anything to do with the FBI."

Amused at Booth's anger, Brodsky followed Booth further into the room, "Well, I heard that the FBI has fingered me for the death of Heather Taffet. I know you still have contacts with the FBI and I wanted to know what you know. Why me? Why do they suspect me?"

Placing his arms on the armrests of the chair, Booth stared up at the former Ranger, "Why you? The shot that took out Taffet had to have been made by a professional sniper and not just any sniper. It had to have been made by someone like you or me. Someone who has the ability to shoot from crazy distances. Since I was in Mexico when Taffet was killed that lets me off the hook."

Displeased with the answer, Brodsky shook his head, "There are others that could have made that shot. We aren't the only ones capable of a shot like that, so why me?"

Coldly, Booth replied, "Because you killed a man without a green light from upper command and when an investigation was opened up, you disappeared from Dallas. No one has seen you since, Jacob. Also the bullet that was used was home made and we all know about your habit of only using bullets that you've made. Of course you're a prime suspect. The FBI would be negligent if they didn't consider you as the murderer. . . Tell me Jacob, I always thought of you as a patriot, someone who valued the laws of this country, what happened? What made you change into a murderer? Were you offered money? Has money become more important to you than honor?"

Furious, Jacob stepped closer and hit Booth across the lower part of his face with the barrel of his gun. Reeling back, Booth fought to remain conscious. Slowly shaking his head, the former FBI Agent laughed, "I must have hit a nerve, huh Jacob." Feeling the blood dribble from his mouth and down his chin, Booth ignored it. "The Jacob I used to know would have laughed off what I just said. Of course, the Jacob Brodsky I knew was a man of honor and would never sell his soul for money."

Gathering control, Brodksy stepped away from Booth until there were a few feet between them. "I'm still a man of honor. Do you really think people like Heather Taffet aren't worth killing? She murdered a lot of people including three kids. There was a possibility that she might have worked the system and that she wasn't going to pay for what she did. What kind of justice would it have been to see her walk away from her crimes?"

His ire rising, Booth ignored the pain in his face and barked, "Bullshit. She was convicted of murder. There was no way in hell that was going to be overturned. She was going to die for what she did, but you . . . you took the law into your own hands and murdered her and for what . . . money? You didn't answer me, is that why you did this? You didn't know Heather Taffet so you had no reason to kill her, so someone had to have paid you to do it."

Shaking his head slowly, Brodsky replied, "You don't know what you're talking about Booth. I am an honorable man."

Leaning against his chair, Booth sneered at his former friend, "You're so full of shit, Jacob. You've stained your honor and you know it. Why the hell are you really here?"

Casually looking around, Brodsky observed, "You have a nice house and a beautiful wife. I know that Temperance Brennan is helping the Jeffersonian on the Taffet murder. I assume you love her, am I right?"

A cold chill running down his back, Booth shivered, "You leave Bones alone. The Taffet case isn't hers. She doesn't work for the FBI anymore."

His eyes dark with hatred, Brodsky glared at Booth, "I have little ears that tell me interesting things and one of the things I heard was that your wife is helping with the Taffet case even though she isn't working for the FBI. I can't let her bring me down, Booth. I'm doing God's work. I'm getting rid of the scum that dares to live among us. My work is righteous and I will not allow anyone to stop me and that includes Temperance Brennan."

Afraid for his wife, Booth stood up, "I'll kill you Jacob. If you come anywhere near my wife I'll hunt you down and I'll kill you and it won't be fast either. It'll take you days to die, do you hear me? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Snorting, Brodsky shook his head, "You come near me and I'll kill you, Booth. You may be good, but you aren't the man you used to be. You're a cripple. You come after me and you won't have a snowball's chance in hell of surviving."

His eyes gleaming, Booth replied, "Keep telling yourself that, Jacob. You keep telling yourself that I'm not a threat and see where that gets you."

Holding his gun up, Brodsky aimed it at Booth's forehead, "All I have to do is shoot."

Unconcerned, Booth stood straight and with pride, "Go ahead. My wife will track you down and kill your sorry ass. She won't wait for the law to handle it. She and those squints will find you and bury you."

Amused, Brodsky laughed, "That's probably true, so let me give you my final warning. You tell Temperance to back off and let the Jeffersonian work the case without her. If she does that then you're both safe. If she keeps working the case, I'll kill both of you." Backing around the couch, the former ranger made his way to the front door. "We were friends and you saved my life once. I'm saving your life by not killing you here and now. This is the only break you'll be getting from me. You tell her to back off or you're both dead."

Watching his former friend leave, Booth waited until the front door closed before sitting down. His hand tenderly feeling his mouth and chin, he exclaimed, "Shit that hurt."

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Arriving home, Brennan was surprised to find police cruisers, an EMT truck and a few FBI vehicles parked in her driveway and in front of her house. Her heart rate beating wildly, Brennan parked across the street and ran towards her house. The FBI agents standing near the front door, recognized her and let her cross the lawn. Knowing how devoted she was to her partner, they motioned for the two District police officers trying to intercept her, to leave her alone.

Racing up the steps, Brennan burst through the door, "Booth . . . Booth where are you?"

Hearing his voice come from the kitchen, Brennan placed her hand over her heart and hurried into the kitchen. Spying her husband sitting at the table with an EMT squatting beside him, Brennan rushed over to where he was sitting, "What happened? Are you hurt?" Observing the dark bruise on the left side of his mouth and that extended down his chin, Brennan shook her head, "Booth what happened?"

Worried that she would go ballistic, Booth grabbed her hand and tried to smile. Pain shooting through his head, he moaned and placed his hand against his jaw.

The EMT, trying to get Booth to go to the hospital, stood and made his case with Brennan, "Dr. Brennan, I need your husband to go to Emergency. He was hit with the side of a gun barrel and we need to make sure he doesn't have any facial fractures."

Angry at the technician, Booth held up his hand, "I'm fine. Stop trying to scare people, will you?"

Her concern rising, Brennan leaned over and studied Booth's face. Her fingers tenderly moving across his jaw and cheek bone, she finally told him, "I think you need to have this x-rayed just in case, Booth."

The fear on her face plain for everyone to see, Booth stood up and glared at the EMT, "Fine, I'll go, but you aren't taking me. Bones can take me."

Shrugging his shoulders, the EMT commented, "I don't care who takes you to the hospital as long as you go."

Agent Harris, entering the room, was surprised to see Brennan in the room, "Temperance, when did you get here?"

Her gaze moving from Booth to Harris, Brennan demanded, "What is going on here? Who hurt Booth and why are you here?"

Glaring at Booth, Harris pointed a finger at his friend, "Brodsky paid Booth a visit this evening and it didn't go well."

Her eyes cold crystal shards, Brennan stared intently at Harris, "If Brodsky did this then he will regret it. Booth and I will make sure of that."

Placing his arm around Brennan's shoulder, Booth urged her, "Come on, Bones. Take me to the hospital. We'll talk about it on the way."

Her concern back with her husband, Brennan gave him a small smile, "You will explain to me why you were hurt and what Brodsky wanted. No secrets, Booth."

Walking her towards the kitchen doorway, Booth sighed, "No secrets, Bones."

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