Harry Tepper was in charge of doing the autopsy on Hardewicke and he stuck the x-rays of Hardewicke's cervical vertebrae on the backlit board in the morgue for us to see when we visited the next morning. Harry seemed a lot happier to see us than any of us were to see him.

Harry was all too delighted to get Brennan and I within feet of him and then to point out the x-rays of the murdered treasure seeker's neck. With far too much relish, he drew out the sentence, "The larynx was crushed."

Brennan took the bait, even though it was pretty obvious what he was trying to do. She scowled at him disapprovingly. "Is that going to be your cause of death ruling?" She asked irritably, crossing her arms and glaring.

Harry grinned recklessly. I think he was past caring about Booth noticing how much he liked being threatened and insulted. "Are we gonna have another fight about this?" He asked hopefully.

Brennan's lip curled angrily and she took a stride forward, her hands balling into aggressive fists. I really thought she was going to go for the gold and attack, but Booth stopped her by holding hands out to both of them, going as far as to give Harry a sharp jab in the chest.

"You know, I'm a pretty open guy, Harry," Booth started, glowering over the shorter M.E. protectively. "But if you keep pushing like that, it's gonna be me who smacks you around." And that was actually something I think I'd really enjoy watching.

Harry just smirked condescendingly at the FBI agent, who seemed to realize that the tables were about to be turned. "How do you know that won't work for me just as well?" The M.E. taunted. Booth's eyes widened and his glare intensified, but he took several very rapid steps back away from the most definitely twisted mortician.

"You ruled that Macy died from a crushed larynx," Brennan accused with a short temper.

Harry cocked his head towards the x-rays. "A crushed larynx is fatal," he said slowly, with a grating arrogance. "Ergo, it results in death."

"I'll tell you what else is going to result in death," I muttered mutinously under my breath, sending him a dark look that scared most people.

Brennan's lips tugged up as he took her own bait and she was all too happy to correct him. "You were wrong then," she declared boldly, "And you're wrong now." Harry's smile grew, became more excitable as she tried to tear him down forcibly from his pedestal.

Booth's scowl became more pronounced and he turned to me, pointing viciously at the medical examiner. "See?! He likes it!" He complained to me, disgusted and aggravated but unable to actually do anything about it at the moment.

"I need to see both sets of x-rays, his and Macy's." Brennan watched him expectantly, waiting for Harry to actually do his job.

Harry gathered the other folder with Macy's x-rays in it from on top of a cart, slowly sifting through the first few and selecting the cervical vertebral image, holding it to Brennan. He kept his arm close to his body, forcing her to come nearer in order to get it. "It's not always about being right or wrong. It's about the dialogue." Brennan closed the fingers of her right hand around the side of the x-ray, watching Harry carefully for his movements as she pulled it away from him and stepped back. "An intense conversation can be the most wonderful kind of intercourse."

Booth made a face, sticking his tongue out and pretending to gag. For an adult, he sure can act like a kid sometimes – not that I was doing much better. I'd probably be feeling a little sick to my stomach if I wasn't so busy repeating an inner mantra to myself along the lines of if I kill the mortician, no matter how justified it feels in the moment, Booth will have to arrest me.

"This guy is a pervert!" Booth called with a raised voice, pointing at Harry emphatically but keeping his distance. Brennan didn't seem to notice the fuss that the FBI agent was making, and if she did, she didn't care enough to dignify it with a response. She slipped the top of the page up at the top edge of the backlit board, right next to Hardewicke's for comparison.

"Oh, are you seriously just noticing?" I spat, throwing the M.E. a repulsed glare. "Listen, man, if you don't knock it the fuck off, I'm going to have you charged with harassment." Maybe it was a lot of trouble to go to, especially since I want my restraining order against Oliver Laurier to stay out of the light, but it would feel so worth it.

While I was taking care of the compulsory threatening, Brennan was actually working, studying the two lit images carefully. She spoke out loud as she analyzed them, mostly for my benefit, seeing as we don't care about the M.E. and Booth wouldn't necessarily understand how to put the terms together with a scenario.

"Damage between the C- two and four, at a forty-five degree angle, exactly the same pattern of injury as Macy." Brennan backed up, and since she'd been facing the board, she drew closer to the mortician. I tensed, but Brennan had done so on purpose. "His head was wrenched around…" she grabbed Harry roughly under his chin with the other hand on the back of his neck, twisting enough to frighten but not enough to damage. Well, it should have been enough to frighten – Harry looked pleased. "Probably while the other hand crushed the larynx." The hand under his chin slipped down to cover his throat and press.

Despite the unnerving situation that the examiner had found himself in, Harry was grinning at Brennan sideways while she held him in a potentially lethal headlock. "That must really frustrate you that I missed that."

I shook my head, unable to even react to the M.E. anymore. If I let myself get angry, I was giving him what he wanted, and anyway, it was pacifying to see Brennan looking like she was about to commit his murder to later expertly dispose of the body. Lye? I'm thinking lye. With hydrochloric acid to dissolve the bones.

Should I be worried about how far I'm thinking this through?

"I said before, that's a Special Forces move," I pointed out to Booth, gesturing with one hand at the two other adults. Brennan was reluctantly releasing Harry – and I do mean reluctantly. "Maybe once it's being taken and used by a civilian, but twice, with the same results and same damage? That seems more like it's been a trained skill."

Booth blinked, nodding slowly, just as shocked as he had been disgusted by Harry's advances. "Our murderer is Special Forces," he stated aloud, his voice sounding almost a little distant.

"And we know Rose is supposedly a former veteran," I offered for him, giving him another lead to focus on.

Rose wasn't all that happy about being forced to come into the FBI, and he didn't even give us a chance before he lawyered up, dragging Mr. Kendall into the office practically by the tie as a legal defense to shield him from potential legal action.

"Your internet bio says you spent time in Special Air Services," Booth prompted of the billionaire, who couldn't even be bothered to look away from the window near the closed door. Rose wanted to leave – fine, I didn't want him to be here, anyway – but staring out at the street and the city was impolite, slighting Booth, and he had already managed to get on my hate list.

Kendall, the lawyer, was seated across from Booth in one of the offered chairs, a small case on the ground next to him. He smiled politely and when he answered, it was cheerful and friendly. "Mr. Rose has led a diverse and full life." Which didn't actually tell us what we wanted to know, but I could recognize when they were not answering on purpose.

Brennan didn't care much for interacting with the lawyer. Kendall wasn't a suspect, after all – Rose was. She leaned on the side of Booth's desk, watching the billionaire even as he kept his attention riveted out the window. "How did you feel when you found out the dig site had been… salted?" She asked, glancing at Booth for confirmation that she'd used the right term.

I offered her a tension-riddled attempt at a smile and a thumbs-up of approval.

Rose rolled his shoulders up for a moment. "I was…" he seemed to be fishing for a word that wouldn't incriminate him. "… Disappointed, certainly."

"Just disappointed?" Booth questioned with a raised eyebrow.

I stared at Rose with growing agitation. It began to bubble up to the surface when Rose shot a distasteful look at Booth before turning back to the window. I stepped forward slowly, away from the desk, and I cleared my throat loudly.

"I'm not sure if you're confused or if you're just a lot more arrogant than I thought," I started, speaking slowly so that he could understand. There was no way that he could have mistaken my biting tone for anything other than scathing. Kendall seemed surprised, and Rose was startled enough to look away from the window and at me, curious to what I'd be willing to say to one of the most powerful men in the building. "But when I talk to people, I prefer for them to show me the respect of looking at me. Assuming the former, let me clarify for you that we're over here, not out there."

Rose shifted his feet, turning back to face the rest of us and join the party. Matching my slow and patronizing way of speaking, he drew out, "I wasn't irked enough to kill Macy." Well, hey, at least he's looking at us now, which was enough to let my temper simmer down a bit. "Now, can we get to the point, please?"

"What is Special Air Services?" Brennan asked, getting to the point bluntly and honestly as Rose had requested.

Rose sighed softly and he answered with an air of complete boredom and his response was rehearsed, clearly given multiple times. "The S.A.S. is widely regarded as one of the finest and best-trained Special Forces units in the world." It sounded like an endorsement or a general term released to the public, designed to seem informative but actually say very little, like a brochure for something that wasn't as great as it wanted to seem.

"See any active service?" Booth asked casually like he was talking about the weather. He threw his elbow up on the desk and leaned his chin against his fist.

Kendall coughed. "Mr. Rose is not comfortable discussing specifics," he said politely, but doing his job as a lawyer. As far as lawyers go, he's actually not bothering me as much as most did – I mean, obviously he irritates me because he's doing his job and making my life more difficult, but he could be a lot worse.

"Of course he isn't," I sneered, releasing my anger as much as I was working for a rise out of Rose. Rose was a smart man, no matter how infuriating, so I couldn't trick him, and he probably wouldn't make a slip. Still, he has a volatile temper, and if I could make him angry enough, that might explode. "Were you in the S.A.S. at all, or is the half-answer a way of saving face?"

Rose glowered hatefully, contemptuous. It was a good thing for me that I wasn't a kid anymore. Being abused for so long maybe should have been indoctrinating, but I never trusted the people that hurt me and tried hard not to care, either, which meant that what they said and did had less of an effect. Now when I see someone powerful and angry being a douchebag, instead of being afraid and conditioned to expect hurt, it just fans a fire over my temper. I returned the glare one hundred percent, daring him to say something cruel to a teenager – especially one who could easily get newspapers to print what I told them.

"I don't like to exploit my role in operations which cost good men their lives," Rose said through gritted teeth. "Now, if all you're interested in is my history, there's a bio on my website."

Haven't we mentioned we've already read that, hot shot?

Booth stopped Rose in his tracks before he could spin around and storm out like a huffy child. "We just wanna know if your reputation is for real, sir," he called to the investor's back, which stopped moving. "Hey, we'll just contact the S.A.S.. They'll tell us."

"Look," Rose started wearily, turning around slowly and with a hard glare over his shoulder.

Kendall interrupted the billionaire and rose from his chair to stop anything before it got legally out of hand. "Fine," he said curtly to Booth, pushing in his chair, picking up his case, and turning around to Rose. As he approached the door, he held out a hand to politely gesture out.

"Don't expect a speedy response," Rose retorted over his shoulder.

I growled. I don't want to go through all the channels necessary to get the information from the S.A.S., and there was a much faster and more fun way of testing it, anyway. Reflexes, right? If someone raises a hand to me, I'm automatically prepared to either dodge or fight back. Rose should have the same ingrained response to a threat.

"You know what?" I started hotly, uncrossing my arms and pacing up to the two of them. Roughly, I shouldered Kendall to the side so that I took his place in front of Rose. "I'm getting really sick of people pushing my partners around on this case. First, there's the M.E. that won't leave Dr. Brennan alone…" I let myself start to rant to let my irritation build up, and when I stepped forward, Rose stepped back, driving himself further back into Booth's office. "And now there's you, making Agent Booth's life as difficult as possible. Maybe he's cool with your whining and your petulance, but I'm really not."

I didn't move too fast – I had to play fair – but I raised my right hand high and delivered a resounding smack to Rose's cheek. He barely even had the time to blink before he realized what I'd done and his hand automatically rose to his face, his mouth dropping in surprise. I'd struck him so hard that even my hand was smarting.

"Whoa." Booth's elbow slipped on the table, his fist slamming down onto the desk in shock. "Holly!" Brennan's eyes widened and she stopped leaning on the desk, looking like she was ready to run in and intervene.

"That's assault!" Kendall cried so loudly I was surprised other agents didn't come running in through the open door.

I stayed planted firmly where I was and turned my head to Booth at his desk. "We wanna know if he's for real," I explained, feeling a lot more satisfied with my life now than I had been ten seconds ago. "Would a Special Forces vet have been able to block that?"

Booth calmed as he realized what I was doing, and instead of reprimanding me, he smirked while Rose looked between us, wondering what the hell was going on. "I don't know, kiddo," he answered, leaning back and looking at Rose contemplatively. "You kinda got the jump on him there."

I nodded once to show I understood and then looked back to the egotistical man I get to assault. I clenched my fist to stretch out my fingers while I smiled at Rose sarcastically. "In the spirit of fairness, I'll let you know another's coming. Ready?"

"What?" He asked, scowling at me, completely unaware of the blow I was about to strike.

I brought my hand back up, backhanding him on the other side of his face with as much force as I could muster. Now the back of my hand was stinging, but it felt so worth it. Rose's head snapped back.

"This is common assault," Kendall snapped, puffing as he stalked back to Rose's side and stared at eye-level with me. "Charges will be laid!"

Brennan looked to Booth, unworried about the threats of legal action, and she shrugged in question. "She did warn him that time," she reminded him fairly.

Booth looked to Rose for a single second and then shook his head. "No way he's Special Ops," he dismissed before nodding towards me. "You're still healing, but you could probably beat the daylights out of him." He finished with a charming, benevolent smile at Rose's furious face, which was growing red in anger that he didn't want to release.

Brennan smiled to Rose, making the decision to let him go quickly. "Alright, no more questions." I raised both hands to show I wasn't gonna go slapping him anymore and took a step back. I had wanted to punch him, but that was more likely to leave a bruise.

Kendall pointed at me, flustered and blustering. "I demand she be arrested for assault!" He yelled at Booth, clearly expecting him to do something about me and my crazy behavior.

"Dear God," I complained with a sly smirk, certain that no amount of protesting was going to convince Booth to slap his handcuffs on my wrists. "You bitch just as much as your client." The smirk was definitely smug, meant as a way to convey triumph to the lawyer.

"Shut up, Kendall!" Rose snapped loudly, cutting his lawyer off and sending him a dirty look. He turned his back on us to leave, grabbing at Kendall's shoulder and pulling him out before he could make any more of a scene. I heard him hissing furiously at his lawyer as they left. "You think I want it all over the newspapers that I'm taking D.C.'s teen heroine to court for slapping me?"

Booth chuckled, his eyes bright and sparkling with humor, and he looked across the room to me. "Happy now, kid?"

"Actually," I said with a content sigh and a dreamy, slightly faraway smile. "I do feel a lot better."

Booth sighed and he leaned forward, putting his head on his clasped hands, elbows back up on the table. "Yeah, one problem – now who's our murderer?" Well, true – we'd had three suspects, but now all of our major players were crossed off. "Macy and Hardewicke are dead, and Rose isn't the guy."

"Statistically speaking, our killer is someone we've met in our investigation," Brennan put out there, trying to be helpful and get Booth to realize that we were closer than he thought.

"Yeah, but the only other people we've met are the mayor, his wife, and some people in the digging crew." Booth rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumping forward and his back slouching. He shut his eyes for a moment to rest and regroup.

"We only talked to one of them," I corrected. I'd been there when we went to the platform with Hodgins, and the only person Hardewicke had asked to help had been Dane, the standoffish diving expert. "Dane McGinnis."

"What did he do?" Brennan asked curiously with a glance at Booth, signaling that he was welcome to answer, too. She had been at the lab when Hodgins had taken his dive.

I answered quickly. I'd interacted with Dane more than Booth had, and as I went through what I remembered, I realized that he fit the evidence that we'd gathered. He was smart, but big and strong, too – muscular enough to do damage, but inconspicuous enough to not be frightening unless he actually wanted to be. He was close enough to the treasure hunters to kill both of them after he found out what he was doing, and his brother had been killed in an accident while looking for the treasure.

"He helped Hodgins suit up and go down to find the bones, and he – oh my God."

"What?" Booth lifted his head and his eyes snapped open suddenly, ready to react.

I locked eyes with the FBI agent. The quote as I remembered hit me like a wall of bricks. At the time it had seemed inconsequential, but now it seemed more than coincidental. "He said Hodgins swam like a squid."

Overhead streetlights flashed, creating glares on the windshield and reflecting off of the water in the marina. Booth drove the van quickly, but as far as we knew there wasn't anyone in danger, so we didn't go over the speed limit. I found myself in the backseat with my seatbelt clipped on while Brennan sat in the passenger's side. One of these days, I might drive the car again, but it seems like whenever I go somewhere, my license doesn't exist.

I mean, it does, which is great in case of emergency, but it's not like I've actually taken advantage of its existence since we were in Los Angeles.

Booth pulled his radio closer to him and called to the FBI dispatcher for information. "Dispatch, two-two-seven-oh-five. Last name, McGinnis, first name, Dane, middle initial, P. I need to know which branch of the military he served in."

The radio crackled, the sound of static like paper being balled up on the other end of the line. "Affirmative, two-two-seven-oh-five. Stand by."

When the excess noise cut, Brennan looked to Booth and asked, "Why Dane?"

"He said Hodgins swam like a squid," he answered, his shoulders taut and stressed, his hands tight on the steering wheel. Brennan just frowned, not understanding the point.

"It's a military slang term for a sailor," I explained for her, leaning forward as much as I could with the band of the seatbelt in the way. "Sure, civilians can use it, but when what we know is put together, it seems like too great a coincidence to just ignore."

Brennan raised her head in understanding and then she turned as much as she could in the seat to look at Booth. "Wait – is this what they call a "Hail Mary" pass?" She asked curiously. Booth looked from the road to her and back quickly, but before he could respond, the radio called back.

"Two-two-seven-oh-five, dispatch. McGinnis, Dane, served in the navy. Rating: Chief petty officer, naval special warfare."

"Special Forces," I said aloud. "That's how he knew to snap the neck and crush the throat."

"Had to be," Booth muttered in quiet agreement, having already predicted what the dispatch caller's response would be.

Booth slammed his door shut, parked as close to the digging platform as possible. It was dark, but there were high lights posted around the perimeter for safety reasons, and they were illuminating Dane's silhouette on the platform, sitting on a chair and handling what looked like diving equipment. I couldn't see his face, but he was the only one still alive that was likely to be here, even at this hour.

Brennan walked around the front of the SUV to Booth's and my side so that all three of us were together. Booth had found Dane's location and kept his eyes intently focused on the man's position. "The guy was a navy SEAL," he said in caution, holding out one arm to keep me from going forward. He had learned by now that unless it was really, really important, I wouldn't try to get past if he did that, mostly because I didn't want to deal with pushing his arm out of the way. Besides, it's not like I don't trust him to protect me – it's just that I like to be involved in what's going on.

"So?" Brennan asked with her thumbs hooked into her front pockets. She didn't quite get the point in reminding us of Dane's rank. Though there was only a little bit of light, I could see the questioning expression when she looked at Booth. I didn't know enough to understand specifically why a SEAL was particularly dangerous, but I did get the message that anyone with Special Forces training could be a bad idea to tussle with. "You were a guide."

I snickered quietly, knowing as soon as she said it that Booth was going to take offense.

"A ranger," Booth drew out with emphasis, affronted and giving Brennan a little glare, actually looking away from Dane to convey his contempt for the term. "I was a ranger, Bones, okay? I was not a guide." He shook his head and advanced, finally letting us move forward. It didn't stop him from continuing to protest. "Guides, they show you waterfalls, they sell you cookies. I was a ranger."

"What's he doing at the shaft?" Brennan asked, coming to the inside between Booth and the platform, where the stairs were maybe ten feet to the left. Booth grabbed at her arm to keep her near and she paused, looking back to him. "Are rangers afraid of SEALs?"

I snickered again.

"What?" Booth pouted and then shot Brennan another of those you-should-know-better looks. "Come on, Bones, no. Rangers aren't afraid of anybody, alright?" Brennan just shrugged apologetically. Booth looked back up to Dane and then quietly added, "SEALS are… are pretty good, though."

"I can do the talking, if you're afraid," I offered, half serious and half teasing.

The warning glare I got in response was totally worth it.

The three of us stepped up to the platform and I jumped up the stairs two at a time despite the steepness. Booth was a little bit behind me, but he had tried to speed up so I wouldn't be vulnerable to an unprecedented attack, and Brennan was blocked from Dane by the two of us standing at the top of the stairs. Dane was sitting in a foldable metal chair by the side of the shaft, slowly allowing more slack in a yellow hose – which I think is the color for an oxygen line. I looked down to the water where it was disappearing, and then to the equipment, which was turned on. One monitor was like a webcam feed, and the other had the red blip on the radar.

He has someone diving.

"Hey, man," I said casually, stepping forward deliberately so that we seemed less like an arresting party. If he freaked out, then he could damage the air line and kill whoever was with him. It was a struggle to keep my expression clear, but I managed to come close enough to see the computer monitor with the visual while just looking curious. "Nice view, huh? I'm always surprised the water's so clear."

"We've got a filtering system running constantly. Keeps the vision as crystal as it can," Dane answered, a bit of tension in his shoulders, but other than that calm and collected. "What's up?"

"We know it was you," Brennan blurted with no warning from where she'd stepped up next to Booth.

As a result, she was the only one whose demeanor didn't instantaneously shift. Dane shifted, his hand starting to slowly slip behind him as his friendly smile dropped abruptly. Booth's shoulders rose, ready to move and defend Brennan if need be, and I tensed, focusing raptly on the SEAL in case I needed to attack. He was bigger than me, and while I normally stood a pretty good chance against almost anyone, given that my wrist was still healing – and he knew that was a weak point – he could probably win a fight, but I'd still try.

"Dr. Brennan," I said tersely, not taking my eyes off of Dane in case he took the opportunity to damage the equipment or jump up at me. By getting closer to him, I'd given him the option of attacking me, but I'd also cut the time I'd need to instigate a fight.

"Why?" Brennan asked, correctly interpreting the warning. Even though she isn't the best at taking hints, when people deal with potentially deadly situations together, they learn to understand their more serious cues. Booth and I tended to just say her name a certain way when we wanted her to stop talking or moving. "We have a gun. What's he got?"

"He has the oxygen line of someone underwater," I answered slowly.

"How far down am I?" Hodgins' voice asked from the speakers by Dane's connected laptop, the entomologists' innocent question interrupting the almost unbearable tension.

Brennan quickly turned horrified, even though she tried not to let herself show it. "Is that Hodgins?" She asked in escalating alarm, leaning forwards to peer down into the water.

I stepped forward on instinct to make Dane back down, to take the oxygen hose away from him before he could do any harm to someone in what sometimes felt like a pseudo-family, but it put Dane too far on edge. He whipped his hand out from behind him, holding a sharp serrated knife. Booth moved quickly at the action and grabbed his pistol, training it on the SEAL. Dane pressed the edge of his knife to the hose in threat, and I backed up, my breath catching. I threw my hands up in the air in surrender.

"Hey, Dane? I can't read my depth display." Hodgins was completely oblivious to the standoff going on above him. The danger he was in was going right over his head. "Hey, is something going on? Is there aaaaaanybody up there?" I could have sworn that he was about to start whining. "Why don't you answer me?"

Booth kept his voice level and he put great effort into not sounding threatening or furious. "C.P.O. McGinnis, step away from the air hose," he commanded.

"Yeah?" Dane rolled his head to the side, popping his neck and twisting the knife so a flat side of the blade was pressed to the hose. It would be easy for him to drop it or, conversely, press it hard enough to nick the line. I hated feeling so helpless against him, but I wouldn't do anything to risk Hodgins' safety. "Well, I need you to toss that gun into the shaft." Maybe if he got hit in the head with a gun, Hodgins would get the memo and come up? "And toss me your keys, and handcuff yourselves all to that crane. I take your truck. Otherwise, I am gonna cut this hose, and you're buddy's gonna die."

Even though I knew that wasn't going to happen, I was inclined to do so. It's not like we don't know who he is, and we're on a freaking island. He can't exactly leave without taking a ferry, and we could easily organize a police presence to stop him when he gets to the mainland, since we have his identity. Even if we were handcuffed, I was fairly confident something could break the links. And isn't it true that people can get out of cuffs by dislocating their thumb?

Brennan reached over quickly and nudged Booth's side, watching Dane carefully and barely daring to breathe. "Yeah, do that," she recommended.

"Bones!" Booth hissed, sparing her a short glance since I was watching Dane, too. He looked back quickly as soon as Brennan had her mouth shut. "Not gonna happen."

"No matter what you do," I said, talking slowly so I didn't startle him into cutting Hodgins' air line. "This won't end well for you. I'll admit that if you give up now, you'll be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, but if you cut the air hose, then I swear to God-" I may be Atheist, but I do understand the severity of that, especially with the emphasis I put on it, and I meant it one hundred percent. "Agent Booth won't have time to shoot you before I get my hands on you, but you will wish he had."

"If you can hear me, tug on the air hose!" Hodgins called, but he still didn't seem uneasy. He was probably continuing to go down, but I wasn't going to chance a look back to the radar screen. Dane and Booth continued staring at each other, facing off and seeing whose nerves would snap, with me awkwardly to the side. "It's either a spring or some kind of conduit from the ocean. It's clear, clean water, so visibility is better."

"You killed two men," Booth accused through gritted teeth. "I can't just let you drive away."

"Oh, those guys." I keep thinking that things should bother me, but they don't – like how if someone tries to kill me, I'm just a little bit annoyed, but when they target a friend, it's like all hell broke loose. This, though – Dane sneered carelessly. "Putting fake bones in there, making the whole thing into a con job." He dismissed his victims with harsh and inhumane judgment. If he was so okay with killing Macy and Hardewicke, people he'd known for years, how little would it take for him to slice the air hose? It terrified me when I found that little anymore did. "My brother died down there looking for that treasure. A lot of good men did. This was their life. Those men dishonored them."

Yeah, well, vengeance for murder can be put on the backburner for a minute. If it weren't for these people – Booth, Brennan, Hodgins, Angela, Zach, Goodman – then I'd still be the same girl I was six months ago, working in a bar and living in an apartment in a dangerous neighborhood, a diploma to my name and nothing else but a reputation. But this goes deeper than owing them for the changes in my life – they are honestly the closest thing I've ever had to real family, even including Aaron and his parents, and to hell with me if I don't do everything I can to protect them.

"Dr. Hodgins is down there now, looking for that treasure, because he believes it exists, just like your brother." I swallowed and tried to apply everything I'd ever learned about talking down would-be murderers – to personalize their maybe-victims, remind them why they shouldn't do it, relate victims to who they love. I've talked down Carl Decker from murdering someone, but this was more personal and a hell of a lot more nerve-wracking. "Do you really want to kill someone like you? Like the brother you lost?"

"Dane, can you hear me, man? I am on the bottom."

So was my heart – it was somewhere between six and two hundred feet down, thumping dangerously so that I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. Fear must have been written on my face clear enough for Dane to see, even when most of my features were shadowed by the darkness of night.

Dane wouldn't let me talk him down. He used to be one of the good guys, so he would know when he was being coached away from something. He set his jaw, staring at Booth rather than the gun aimed for his chest. "You good enough to take that shot before I cut this air hose, ranger?"

Booth didn't allow Dane to shake him. "Pretty good."

"What?" Brennan looked to him, concerned and now even more fearful for her friend's safety. "Just pretty good?"

"Please, I'm working!" He shot back at her. He would have sounded irritable, except too much of his energy was focused on keeping ready to shoot at the slightest opening.

"I'm gonna need some more slack in the line, Dane. What's going on?" Of course Hodgins wouldn't be getting any more slack – Dane had the hose in a death grip, literally. "I'll get a sample. I can see where the shaft wall has collapsed before. Oh my God."

I wanted to chance a look behind me when I heard the stunned, breathy exclamation, but the magnitude of the standoff was more pressing than Hodgins' awe and disbelief. Besides, the scientist always was a chatterbox – he'd probably say what he'd found in a minute, anyways.

"Holy – Damn!" Dane clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tensing, but he remained determined and cemented in position. He pressed the knife dangerously close to the hose, pressing the flat edge against the rubber. "Can you see this, Dane?"

Dane's emotions battled it out on his face – fury, stubbornness, curiosity – and finally, he stilled on another one of forced calm. "What is it?" He asked Brennan, who wasn't bound by the tension to keep her eyes on Dane, the way that Booth and I were.

"Why don't you take a look?" Booth suggested. I don't think he really thought Dane would go for it that easily, but he had to try.

"Yeah," Dane scoffed, not willing to fall for it. With a somewhat sarcastic smirk, he returned, "I do and you'll shoot me."

"Not if you put the knife down," I said, slowly lowering one hand and miming thunking a blade onto a flat surface. If Dane didn't cut the hose, then we wouldn't shoot – that simple. He killed someone, but our job isn't to dish out vengeance however we see fit – our job is to bring him in to the courts, and if we have to use force to do so or to protect others, then, well, that's just a happy bonus.

Hodgins laughed joyfully over the speaker, out of breath purely due to exhilaration. Whatever he'd found, he thought was real, and it must be something more promising than a stolen skeleton. "Dane! Can you see this, man?"

"Dr. Brennan?" I asked levelly. Although Dane was holding Booth's stare, I was keeping a watch on him, too. I'd put myself in the middle before this started, but now I was entirely focused on remaining between them to either grab him before he could do more damage or do as much damage to him as possible the moment the knife was no longer a threat.

This was another of those times that Brennan could interpret what I wanted just from her name. "It's a gold coin," she said seriously, looking away from the rest of us to see the visual link on Dane's laptop monitor.

"Yeah," Dane scoffed. This touched a nerve. "It's probably something else they stole from the museum and threw it in there."

On one hand, Dane had probably heard from Hodgins – the two had probably been hanging out and hadn't told anyone. Well, why would they? They're two adult men who bonded over a love for conspiracy, pirates, treasure, and spelunking. In this case, Dane just also happened to be the bad guy. What were the chances that Hodgins had said something that would negate a bluff?

"The entire Jeffersonian did an inventory as soon as we knew the skeleton had been taken," I swore solemnly. As far as I knew, it was a lie – I thought that only the pirate exhibit had taken inventory, but it made enough sense to be realistic. "If any coins had been stolen, we'd know. It's authentic."

Dane tensed, the knife beginning to shake, unable to keep even along the line of the hose.

"This is real!" Hodgins shouted, adding maybe just enough tension to make Dane break. "It's a big-"

"Shoot the computer!" I yelled suddenly, maybe even loud enough for Hodgins to have heard over the small microphone Dane had been using by the computer to talk to him before we'd shown up.

Booth reacted quickly and without question, firing out two rounds. It made little sense that I could hear gunfire and see muzzle flashes this close without being terrified out of my wits, but I completely trusted Booth not to do anything to jeopardize anyone's safety other than Dane's. Both bullets hit the middle of the laptop, blacking out the screen, shattering the monitor, and cutting the two-way audio link. The computer smoked, white wisps trailing up before they became impossible to see against the dark.

In less than two seconds, his firearm was trained expertly back on the SEAL.

"If you want to see the treasure your brother died looking for, then you have to let me bring Dr. Hodgins up safely," I urged intently, bordering on desperate. The longer this took, then the less likely it seemed Dane would stand down. Hodgins was two hundred feet under, and even by the time he realized he couldn't breathe, there was no way he'd have time to get all the way back up. Going down with gravity was all fine and well, but coming up takes a hell of a lot more time and energy. Mentioning his brother's death was low, but it might be the only thing that would reach him.

"Please," Brennan added, just as anxious for Hodgins's safe return, although showing it in a slightly different way. When she probably wanted to step forward, she knew to stay beside Booth. "He's down there because he believes. He's no different from you, no different than your brother."

"Bring him up," Booth said, just as stern as anything else he'd said to this point, but somehow just a little bit softer, more of a please than a command.

"Do it for your brother," Brennan tried again, as close to pleading as I'd ever heard her.

See, not long ago, I'd made the analogy that everyone in the Jeffersonian is like a family. At the time, I hadn't realized how true that was. Even if not everyone knew each other personally, they'd still all be affronted and furious if someone they worked with was hurt. The security guards weren't like Corgis, though – they were more like neighbors, guests trusted to help out the home. Family goes way beyond blood.

Dane struggled. Booth waited, doing an impressive mimicry of patience.

After what seemed like way too long, Dane pulled the knife away from the hose and gave it a shove, knocking it off of his lap and down into the water after the entomologist. I let out a breath I had barely realized I'd been holding and Brennan slumped, relieved. For a moment, Dane held onto the knife, glaring at Booth. Rationally I knew that in a gun versus knife fight, the gun would win, but that didn't make me any less uneasy with the temporary situation before Dane leaned forward, slamming his knife down so the point stabbed through the grid around the opening of the shaft, embedding itself a couple of inches in.

"C.P.O. Dane McGinnis, you are under arrest." As Booth moved forward and it became apparent that Dane wasn't going to lunge for the knife again, he holstered his sidearm. "Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney." Dane rose to his feet and shuffled to turn around, holding his wrists behind him, glaring at the bubbling water in the shaft while Booth slapped on handcuffs and continued Mirandizing him. "If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you…"

I ran around the two men and picked up the air hose again. It was slick with water and my hands were shaking with small tremors. I scowled at myself and tightened my grip, giving it two quick tugs. Surely Hodgins had heard the shots through the link before the system was severed, so he should take the cue for what it was.

Sure enough, on the radar screen, the red dot started rising just a few feet. I pulled again once and started to recoil the hose, not giving Hodgins any slack in case he stopped coming up. I wasn't certified to do this, but the theory was actually pretty simple, and it wasn't nearly as hard to get him up as it would have been to get him down.

When the radar had him almost at the top, I started being able to make out the darker shape in the water seconds before he actually breached the surface. He frowned at me through the thick glass of the diving helmet for a moment. "Xena?" My nickname came out muffled and unclear through the equipment. I didn't even care that he was calling me by a princess (that Xena was a warrior princess only made it marginally better), I was just glad that he was alright.

"Jack, get out of the water," I said quickly, bending down and almost collapsing, pulling back on the air hose with one hand and reaching out to help with the other. While getting him out, my pants got splashed with cold water. I barely noticed.

Hodgins and Goodman authenticated the golden coin the very next morning, and Hodgins was pleased to boast to everyone as soon as the platform held everyone on the team. He held it up in one hand tightly, grinning like a maniac.

"An original Breen nine-eight-four half doubloon, designed by Ephraim Brasher, engraved by Ephraim Brasher," he crowed loudly, twisting it around to look at the etchings on either side of the genuine pirate coin. "And, hold your breath, gentlemen, ladies, and princess-" I sent him a glower that even I couldn't keep up for more than a few seconds. "Two hundred and four grains!"

Zach sighed dreamily and leaned forward, the heels of his hands braced against the edge of the exam table to stay upright. "A real, gold pirate coin," he said in awe, like a dazed nerd at Comic Con. For him, this was probably a really good comparison.

"How many more are down there?" Booth asked with thrill, a one-eighty from the fully-trained FBI agent I'd seen in a face-off the night before. He clapped his hands together in uncontainable excitement.

Goodman had his hands clasped in front of him, the cool, collected posture that he normally held himself with. Still, he was smiling contently, a clear sign that he was in high spirits. "Branson Rose has agreed to have the museum do the authentication of the entire treasure when they bring it up."

As I grinned, pleased at the reminder of the guy I'd slapped into next week, Hodgins shook his head, sighing. "There won't be any more," he said, despite making sure he sounded longing.

Angela's smile fell as she looked down to the shorter scientist with a soft, disappointed frown. "What makes you say that?"

"I was down there," he responded earnestly, before smiling again and looking back to the coin he'd nearly been killed getting. Even though he must have seen how eager Brennan and I were to get him out of there, I don't think it was quite impressed upon him how near he came to being murdered. "It's not gonna give it up that easily."

"But the treasure's been located," Goodman protested logically.

Booth sighed as he realized that Hodgins had a point. "And I'm sure it's been located before." He agreed, though just a little sadly.

Goodman nodded once and held out a hand expectantly for the pirate coin. "I'll take that." Hodgins looked up to Goodman, startled, and he gave the archaeologist a look that suggested the other man had repeatedly kicked his doxie puppy before going back to the coin. Goodman rolled his eyes and grabbed the other half and the two went back and forth for a minute while the increasingly agitated administrator tried to tug the coin out of the entomologist's tight grip. Finally, Hodgins relinquished it mournfully. Goodman gave him a don't-you-start warning glare and turned to set it down into an offered protective case from another employee.

"Do you think he's happy to be back home?" Brennan wondered aloud to no one in particular, referencing the skeleton we'd replaced in its exhibit.

Angela smiled, delighted to have an opening, and turned the sketchbook against her abdomen around to show everyone else. She propped the edge against the steel edge and tipped it back at an easier angle to see. She'd made a charcoal sketch of a bearded and mustached pirate in a tricorn hat who bore a deliberate resemblance to Hodgins, grinning with bright eyes.

Booth noticed the way that the pirate looked like Hodgins, too, and he looked back and forth for a minute before cheering, "Ha!"

Hodgins smiled at Angela's effort. "He's not happy," he denied.

Zach turned that sad look to Hodgins. "What do you mean?"

"Hodgins is right," Booth coughed, slipping his hands into his pockets and offering the entomologist a supportive grin. "He's be a lot happier at the bottom of that shaft."

"With the other pirates," Brennan added as she understood what they meant.

Hodgins looked down with a disappointed sigh, slumping his shoulders down sadly. I could sort of understand – he'd been so excited and hopeful that it was a pirate case, but now the whole thing was over. We had the answers, but the adventure of the ordeal now had to end.

Booth looked over to Zach, caught the intern's confused eye, and looked back around to the doctor. "Aaargh!" Booth growled playfully, Zach joining in halfway through when he realized what they were doing to cheer up their friend.

Hodgins grinned, successfully cheered. "Argh, matey!" He chuckled with his best pirate accent.

I smirked, putting on an accent and quoting Elizabeth Swann to play with the boys. "And you'll be positively the most fearsome pirates in the Spanish Main!"