"My department's still working with polaroids," Michael stated enviously, crossing his arms and soaking in the total awesomeness of Angela's holographic projector. The basic image of a feminine frame on her side impressed him into making comparisons. Well, the Jeffersonian isn't the best in the world for nothing, although I have to empathize with his awe. I still sometimes can't believe I've been in here with these people.

"Cool, isn't it?" I asked with a grin.

"So what do you think?" Brennan asked Michael smugly, knowing just as well as I did that this technology far outdid whatever he had.

"Very impressive," Michael admitted. "Especially to the nonprofessional," he added, glancing subtly over at me. My smile fell instantly. Who the hell does he think he is? I don't care if he has a doctorate, he has no right to come in here and insult me! Although I know that I don't really have a place in the Jeffersonian, I was invited here by Brennan, so I deserve the professional courtesy that Michael shows the others!

Angela smirked down at her handheld tablet. "You want science? Give me the estimated time of captivity." I wondered briefly why Angela wasn't smirking at Michael (she seems to like outdoing men), but brushed the thought away. Michael probably has a girlfriend, and Angela's the type of person who, although loves to flirt, would respect that.

"Approximately three weeks," Brennan told Angela. Angela entered the time into the tablet, and the holograph adjusted accordingly. The flesh faded to translucency and parts of the skeleton where there had been the most wear were highlighted with a bright yellow.

"Okay, so these are the affected areas," I announced, getting to business quickly. To be honest, I wouldn't mind showing Michael that I'm not stunned into stupidity by the great technology. "During the advanced time simulation, the bones begin to deteriorate." Thankfully, Angela took the cue I had no authority to give, and the projector zoomed in around the skeleton's hips, ribcage, and lower arms and wrists while the bones began to degrade.

"You're winning, right?" Booth muttered to Brennan. I just barely heard him.

Winning? Was there a bet? I still have five minutes. Oh… she must have made something into a competition with Michael. I looked over at the other anthropologist to see if I was right, and indeed, he didn't look very thrilled with the way things were going.

"Can I see your findings?" He said with a plastered smile that I could see through. He was trying to get through this with as much dignity as he could possibly save. Brennan passed over her clipboard and Michael lifted up the top paper, scanning quickly over Brennan's neat and organized notes while Angela powered down the projector. With a disturbed expression, Michael looked up and let the papers settle back into place before looking at Brennan with see-through humility. "This appears to be indisputable."

"The narcotic found in her system was not the result of recreational drug abuse," Brennan concluded, sounding both triumphant and saddened at the same time. Although happy she had won her bet, she probably wished for it to be under different circumstances. No one wants to win a bet because they proved someone else was in intense pain.

Angela sighed and held her tablet close to her chest. "The inflammation would have been very painful, and the pain would have only increased over time."

"They kept upping the dosage of hydromorphone until they gave her too much, and she died," Brennan closed her eyes and shook her head in disgust for a moment. "Those people bound and killed that girl."

Michael sighed, casting his eyes downward before looking to Brennan peacefully. "I yield. French restaurant?"

Brennan's lips twisted into a satisfied smirk. Moments like this are when I gain more of a sense of adoration for her as herself, not just as my favorite authoress. "I'm more in the mood for Italian," she disagreed smugly. "I need to put together the evidence packet for Booth to deliver to the U.S. attorney."

Michael nodded to her submissively. "I'll meet you at your place."

The senior anthropologist returned Brennan's papers to her waiting hand. With a last, courteous nod, he walked out of Angela's office. He was clearly unhappy about this. My eyes followed him until he was completely out of sight. Bad sportsmanship. I'm not really sure I like that he and Brennan are going out to a restaurant – and probably sleeping together, if their behavior is anything to go by. Of course, that's just me nosing into what isn't my business. I don't have a right to be protective of Brennan and I certainly have no right to know who she's sharing her bed with.

Brennan smiled to herself and Booth held out his fist for a fist-bump. "Good work!" He complimented. Brennan looked from his fist to his face and blinked before her expression changed to a 'you must be joking' one. Something tells me he's not going to get his fist-bump any time soon.

The next day I was back in the courthouse. This time I was being prepared for the Costellos' trial. I must admit, it's quite satisfying to be introduced to the judge as an expert witness by the attorney.

I had to answer some basic questions; how I learned what I knew and how I attained my knowledge on forensics and law. The judge seemed willing to accept that it had been a hobby, which is good, because I didn't have a clever lie planned. When I was dismissed at lunchtime, I went to the lobby to collect my messenger bag to leave. Unfortunately, I was met with a familiar but unwelcome face.

"Dr. Styres?"

Michael responded to his name and turned around from talking with who I half-recognized as the Costellos' defense lawyer. He seemed surprised to see me. "Miss Kirkland," he greeted curtly. "Might I ask what you're doing in the courthouse?"

I raised my eyebrows. Why was he talking with the defense lawyer? It was common knowledge that you don't exchange pleasantries with people on opposite sides of a court case until after the sentencing. You just… don't. "You may ask all you like, but I'll only answer if you tell me why you're here," I said smoothly.

Don't jump to conclusions, Holly.

Michael sighed and shoved his fists in his black jacket pockets. "I'm not inclined to share my whereabouts with a child."

Okay. That's it. Done playing nice. I cleared my throat and gave him my best 'civil-expression-with-an-underlying-threat' face. Bad cop it is, then. "Well, then I guess it's just too bad that I have no reasons not to tell Dr. Brennan that you were here, talking to Mr. and Mrs. Costello's defense lawyer." I smiled slightly, quirking my eyebrows.

Michael took several steps closer to me and tried to make himself seem taller than he actually was. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"Well, I'm threatening you into telling me what I want to know by means of hanging over your head that I'll tell Dr. Brennan that you were here if you don't, so, yes, I'm pretty sure that counts as blackmail." I smiled up at him sweetly. "Although, remember, you can't hold me at fault for that. After all, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just a child."

"If I may interrupt," the defense lawyer began to interfere, stepping in between Michael and I. His nametag read Meredith. I'm not sure whether or not that's his last name, but I'll roll with it. "Dr. Styres is our forensic anthropologist. He is our expert witness."

My mouth opened slightly and I looked back to Michael, my jaw setting itself tightly in my anger. Now it makes sense that he was so upset about Brennan being right yesterday. He was manipulating her into telling him her entire case, just so that he can tear down her entire case. Unlike yesterday, I couldn't just walk it off as none of my business. Whether or not she considers me a friend, I'm inclined to protect Brennan, and Michael was using her and betraying her.

I blinked once before throwing a swing at Michael. My fist connected with his jaw and his head snapped to the side. He cursed and Meredith gaped in shock. "You manipulative bastard!" I hissed, ignoring the lawyer. "I can't believe you're using her to meet your own ends!"

I stormed away, shaking my head angrily. I need to get away before security realizes I hit him. I need to tell Brennan, even though I really don't want to be the bearer of bad news.

Brennan and Angela were up in the loft, conversing quietly when I found them. I was a little hesitant to intrude on their conversation; since I was testifying on the Jeffersonian's behalf, I do have a right to be here until the end of this case, but I didn't want to be on the receiving end of things if Brennan lashed out when I delivered the bad news.

"Dr. Brennan?" I asked softly. My fingers clutched the straps of my messenger bag nervously and my knuckles were turning white. "May I interrupt for a moment?"

Angela and Brennan both seemed surprised, but not upset. "Of course, sweetie," Angela assured me quickly.

I slid my teeth over my bottom lip before speaking in a pointless effort at reigning in tension. "Well, firstly, the judge is holding the Costellos without bail. I think the U.S. attorney might send you a flower basket, Dr. Brennan."

"The facts are facts," Brennan replied modestly, giving me a half-shrug.

"And, uh…" I paused. Come on, Kirkland! You can take being interrogated as a murder suspect, but you get scared of telling someone about something that's not even your fault?! Where's that courage?! The mental taunt worked. I took a deep breath and then came out with it. "Dr. Brennan, I'm sorry, but I do have a legitimate reason for asking. How much of the case have you been sharing with Dr. Styres?"

Brennan seemed mildly surprised, but she answered anyway. "Oh, I bounce everything off of him," she said nonchalantly. "Why?" She looked up at me from the couch curiously.

Get it over with already! "Um… you have to keep him out of the case from now on," I said quickly.

"Out of it?" Brennan repeated, blinking in confusion. "Why?"

"I was at the courthouse today…" I said, trying to explain before she got angry. "And while I was there, I stayed to be authorized as an expert witness on the Maggie Schilling case. When I was leaving I saw Dr. Styres talking with the Costellos' lawyer. Dr. Styres… he's their expert witness." Brennan seemed completely shocked. She wasn't even denying it, but she was giving me this look like she couldn't believe I would say something so mean. "It is his job to tear down the case that you've built."

I looked down, worrying on my lip again with my teeth. I heard Angela sigh softly, but what worried me was that Brennan wasn't saying anything. I looked up again and hesitantly added, "And I'm sorry I punched your boyfriend in the face."

I was happy to find that, when Michael had come back to the Jeffersonian to have his court-allotted time to make observations of Maggie Schilling's skeleton, he already had the beginnings of a dark bruise on the side of his face.

While Michael was busy analyzing the bones, everyone – and I do mean everyone – watched his every movement carefully. Zach wasn't even blinking and Hodgins looked like a hawk focused on its prey. Of course, the conspiracy nut that he is, Hodgins had convinced Zach to videotape Michael's time with the bones. Booth was bored, but he was keeping an eye on the professor. Angela had one of her sketchpads in her hands and was pressing it against her stomach while she watched, bored, but dedicated to helping her friend. Brennan looked surprisingly at ease with the situation; I assume she and Michael talked for a while right after he got here and while I was busy filling in Booth on why Michael may look like someone attacked him. Despite the apparent consensus they had come to, Brennan was still closely monitoring Michael's actions. Dr. Goodman looked like he had a plank tied to his back, his spine was so straight. He was carefully watching what Michael did while I stood between him and Booth, my arms crossed and my eyes going between Michael's clipboard (which made me angry) and the bruise on his face (which calmed me again).

"Keep an eye on him," Booth whispered to Goodman and I. Although he didn't want Michael to hear, he wasn't quiet enough for the squints not to.

"That will not be a problem," I promised, shifting my weight to my other leg. I didn't even look up when Goodman looked down at me in surprise, having not expected to have an echo when he'd said the exact same thing.

"Could you please not do that again?" Booth asked, frowning between the archaeologist and I. "It's weird." I rolled my eyes.

Goodman nodded very slightly to Hodgins and Zach. Hodgins made the "O.K." sign with his hand and Zach, without looking away from the camcorder's view screen, nodded slowly back. I'm beginning to wonder if this lab will ever be normal. Probably not. Booth's attempts at hindering abnormality are in vain.

Booth leaned around Goodman and made a thumbs-up sign at Hodgins and Zach. Zach looked away from the camera for a minute and he returned the gesture. Hodgins clapped Zach's shoulder, congratulating him on making a correct social gesture.

Angela raised her eyebrows and scoffed. "Did you just give Zach and Hodgins a sign of encouragement?" I blinked and shook my head slowly. Is the world coming to an end?!

Booth gave a half-smile. "Yeah. You know, that's the first time I've been able to look at them without imagining Moe-" he mimicked hitting two things together. "Knocking their heads together."

I rolled my eyes again, but this time I was amused. Poor Hodgins and Zach. I don't think they'll ever get a break. Goodman smiled very slightly as he cautioned, "Agent Booth, you're accessing your inner squint." Even funnier was that Booth actually looked mildly frightened. He raked his hand through his hair and looked down at his coat like he was making sure it hadn't been swapped for a lab coat.

Michael looked up from the exam table and tilted his head, looking directly at Brennan. "Tempe, you listed an avulsion fracture on the right femur. It looks minor. Do you consider this evidence?"

I tensed, but before I gained the urge to create a new bruise on the professor, Booth answered. He made a 'hold on' cue to me with one hand while he coolly told Michael, "Dr. Brennan's conclusions belong to the prosecution."

Michael snorted softly to himself, giving Booth this charismatic smile. I could tell with one glance that Booth wasn't impressed. "I have no interest in destroying your case, Agent Booth."

"So, you're not testifying as expert witness against the Jeffersonian?" I asked, feigning shock. "Because, see, that's exactly what the defense does."

"I'm just trying to get a sense of-" Michael started again.

Goodman interrupted him with a light patronizing tone. "Of her interpretations of data, to which you are not privy, Dr. Styres." I'm liking Goodman more and more, although to be fair, I really don't like Michael.

Brennan shot the three of her defenders a look. I had the respect to pretend to be meek. She didn't seem angry, but she wasn't amused. "I understand the game the doctor is trying to play, and I'm perfectly capable of dealing with him myself." She looked back to Michael, smug and self-confident. "I'm sure he's just thrown by findings he would have missed."

Booth started to laugh, but covered it with a cough and covered his mouth to hide a smile. I smirked. "Dr. Styres, there's a medical station back in the laboratory if you'd like to take care of that burn."

Michael held up his hands, waving his clipboard above his head. "Okay, I get it," he chuckled slightly, like our hostility was just a joke. "I'm on my own. Although, in the interest of fairness, I am willing to share my thoughts with you." He handed Brennan her clipboard back with the aura of a teacher. "I red-penciled a few things."

Brennan looked at the clipboard and I guess she saw his corrections. Quickly, she looked up at him, offended. "You corrected my findings?" She asked, her voice pitching higher, the way it does when she's stunned in a bad way.

Michael gave her the same sort of smile that she'd given him. "Consider it an opposing opinion."

Brennan was certainly not happy with this. "My findings are based on facts, Michael, not opinions," she objected sharply.

I looked down at the floor. Uh-oh. Michael might find himself sleeping alone tonight if he doesn't tread carefully. As I stared at the white linoleum, I briefly wondered what the likelihood was of disappearing into the ground until the tension was resolved, and didn't like the probability (or lack thereof) of that happening.

"You seem to have finished your allotted time with the remains, Dr. Styres. I'd like my people to get back to work." Ah, much better. Leave it to Dr. Goodman to resolve the issue before there really is one. I looked up again, glad that a possible bomb had been deactivated.

Michael smiled at Goodman. "Thank you," he said. Then he turned his smile to Brennan. She tried to smile back, but her frustration was very clearly displayed on her face.

Brennan and I stayed on the opposite end of Booth's office from the Jeffersonian's court support team. U.S. attorney Levitt, who would be working against the defendants during cross-examinations and witness questioning, was accompanied by a jury consultant. I have nothing against jury consultants, honestly, but this one just looks mean, with her flat-ironed dark hair and her unblinking brown eyes. She seemed like the type of woman who no one wanted to get angered at them, because she is constantly PMS-ing.

Booth stood in the middle of the office and slightly to the side, like he was trying to be a peaceful mediator between parties that he knew would clash. "U.S. attorney Levitt and jury consultant Joy Deaver, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan and Miss Holly Kirkland. Both will be testifying as expert witnesses in our case."

"Nice to meet you," Levitt greeted professionally but not unkindly. He stepped forward to shake Brennan's hand with a firm but non-threatening grip. He dipped his head to me in respectful acknowledgment. Okay, dude. I guess you're cool. "I looked over your findings, and I think we're in good shape."

Brennan smiled, pleased at the recognition of her intelligence. "Thank you. I-"

"Juries don't like you," the jury consultant interrupted Brennan rudely.

"Excuse me?" Brennan understood her perfectly, of course, but she seemed startled by the cold disregard the woman held for her. Aw, and just when I started thinking we could all be friends.

Deaver's sharp eyes were locked on Brennan and I was reminded of an eagle by the lack of blinking and the cutting focus. I mean, she'd be quite pretty, if she learned to blink once in a while. I'm not asking for much. "I've seen you testify before, Dr. Brennan. You come off as cold and aloof. I want to make sure-"

"Cold and aloof?" Brennan repeated, bewildered and offended.

"Try not interrupting," Deaver advised, speaking over Brennan's much softer sounds of protest. "It makes you sound arrogant."

I couldn't keep my mouth shut and just watch her go after Brennan. "Oh, this is hypocrisy at its finest," I sneered, glaring at the consultant.

"You need to stop looking so confrontational," Deaver told me. Oh, lovely. Apparently she has a few pointers for me, as well. Come at me, then! "You're a child and you've got no qualifications. I'm quite frankly astounded you're being allowed on the stand. Juries will not want to listen to a standoffish and disrespectful minor."

Booth flinched back and I swear he looked as though a nightmare was coming to reality in front of him. "This reallyis not the best approach," he told Deaver, begging with his eyes for her to listen to him.

"Why are you so rude?" I demanded of the consultant. "I'm seventeen years old and I am capable of understanding implications of scientific evidence! I am only disrespectful to people whose decisions lose my respect, such as you!"

"See?" The consultant looked at me with contempt. "Right now, you're acting like a brat."

"Yeah? Well, you're acting like a bitch, so I'd say we're about even!"

Booth pinched the bridge of his nose and I'm pretty sure I heard him mumble a Catholic prayer.

"I am a technical witness," Brennan stated firmly. "I have testified in over thirty trials!"

"Yes," Deaver nodded but her expression of pity was insulting. "But most of the experts you've come up against are as dry and boring as you are. Now, I don't know if you've seen their expert-"

"She's seen him, Miss Deaver," Booth assured her, his voice strained and tired.

Deaver's expression turned to a dreamy smile. Booth and I exchanged a disturbed glance. "Well, then you understand my concern. Professor Styres is open… charming…" she sighed. "Great looking. The jury's going to love him. I love him."

I shrugged, rolling my eyes carelessly. "Well, as superficial as you are, I'm not surprised."

Deaver looked over me and to Booth. She pointed at me contemptuously. "See, you need to keep her under control. That temper of hers is not a turn-on to anyone in the jury."

"Well maybe I can use my temper to persuade the murderers into confessing to drugging and killing Maggie Schilling," I hissed. "After all, sadomasochists likethat sort of persuasion."

"This isn't a personality contest!" Brennan exclaimed, defending herself against the very dislikable jury consultant. "It's about data that we present to the jury!"

Deaver gave her a look of deadpan disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

"No," Brennan answered indignantly.

"The women on the jury aren't going to be listening to a word that comes out of his mouth," Deaver insisted sassily. "They're going to be undressing him. I don't want the men on the jury to be putting moreclothes on the two of you."

"Well, I certainly don't want men undressing me in their minds!" I retorted, shivering slightly at the thought. Ew. Can someone say 'creepy and disturbing?' And while they're talking, someone tell this crazy woman to get her priorities straight!

"Wear something blue," Deaver ordered, ignoring me. As soon as the words passed her lips, I began planning out my assembly tomorrow. No blue jeans. No blue shirts. No blue sweaters. Hell, no blue socks. "It suggests truth. Make eye contact with the jury. Lose the baggy sweatshirt," Deaver turned from me to Brennan. "And lose the clunky necklace."

"I'll lose the sweatshirt as soon as you lose the incompetence," I snarled.

"Mary and Scott Costello murdered Maggie Schilling. The forensics data I've compiled provesthat, and that should be enough!" Brennan stressed to Deaver.

"But it isn't enough," Deaver argued.

"Okay, that's – that's great," Booth interrupted, hurrying to open the door and gesturing for Levitt and Deaver to take their leave. "We'll take that under consideration. Thanks." Deaver sent a parting, warning look at me before stalking out of the office, her hair swishing on her back. Levitt followed behind more slowly, offering Brennan and I each an apologetic expression. Once they were out, Booth closed the door to the office again.

"Why didn't she say anything about you?" Brennan asked Booth almost immediately, sounding hurt. Well, I can't blame her. "You can be very irritating sometimes!"

"You heard her, Dr. Brennan. Her kind of people don't see personalities; they see appearance. She was probably too busy undressing him with her eyes to critique him," I said with a roll of my eyes, already starting to shake off the encounter.

"Bones, Holly, she's an expert," Booth said, his voice pleading. "She has an obvious personality disorder, but she wants to help. Just try?" He asked.

Brennan sighed, looking forlornly at the floor. "Okay, sure," she reluctantly agreed.

"Good," Booth relaxed slightly, relieved.

"I can do it," Brennan said to herself, confident. I smiled softly at her. I know you can.