Original subtitles

I'm telling you, even if I had a job,

no way would I be investing in real estate.

I own my tent, and I'm very glad I made the investment.

Well, until I see the Fed instituting

some basic Keynesian fiscal policy, I'm staying liquid.

Well, how liquid are you anyway?

I bought the last bottle.

Hey, man, it's a recession.

Folks aren't as free with their change

as they were in '07.

Do you smell chicken?

Smells like pork to me.

I don't care what it is-- it's food.

I'm starving.

Who would throw out a perfectly good meal?

Oh, hope it's not too burned.

That's not chicken.

Damn!

I thought we were going to eat.

What's going on?

Oh, I-I learned to make, uh, pancakes

while working as a fry cook

outside of New Bern, North Carolina.

Fry cook?

Well, we didn't have any money while we were evading arrest,

so I had to do whatever I could to get by.

My dad wanted to steal, but...

Well, you don't have to, uh, be a fry cook no more.

I cooked us breakfast before.

Why don't you go sit and read

one of those dead body books of yours?

No, Booth. I'm fine.

You sit. I like to cook breakfast.

You just never let me.

Well, it wasn't like I tied you up.

I was just... you know, just trying to be nice.

I know.

I just... I'm used to doing this,

so I'm nice now, okay?

You... Okay, you're very nice...

Oh, uh, you know, I don't want them to burn.

I-I... I didn't mean to turn away like that...

No. No, it's fine.

Coffee.

Yeah.

Oh.

These look, uh, good.

I know.

Oh, thanks.

Not like my French toast.

I-I make French toast now.

Oh. Booth.

Right. Great. On our way.

Well, business as usual.

I'll get Christine ready for day care.

One night, when we were on the road,

I camped under a bridge that looked very much like this.

You slept under a bridge with Christine?

She loved it.

Ah, probably because it wasn't a murder scene.

So, what have we got here?

Uh, not much so far.

Severely charred body.

Local PD says no one witnessed anything.

So far I've found blowflies.

No eggs or larva, so I can't determine time of death.

Based on the nasal root and the brow ridge, the victim is

a Caucasian male...

Don't step in the brain, Booth.

Brain? Oh, what?!

Oh, it's nice, huh?

All of us back together again?

That's not nice.

There's brain on my shoe.

Let me bag it.

Bag my shoe?

Yeah, you can hop.

Yeah, I've missed this.

What is adhering to the victim's C6,

Dr. Hodgins? Do you see that?

Has to be some kind of melted alloy.

I mean, I can get something to scrape it off.

No. No, we have to find a way to remove it without

destroying bone evidence.

Victim was probably homeless.

I don't know many homeless guys who get manicures.

Okay, that definitely

changes things. Okay, this guy was found in an oil drum.

It's clearly a body dump.

This location is anonymous, isolated.

Witnesses would be deemed unreliable.

This site was chosen with care.

Bones, explanations like that are sort of my thing.

Okay? So why don't you just stick to the toasty guy there?

I was a fugitive, so I actually have more real-life experience.

I've been a special agent for years...

Who hasn't been in the field for months.

Mm. I'm just being thorough, Booth.

You want me to be thorough, don't you?

Yes, I want you to be thorough, completely thorough.

Are we finished here?

Would you like to transport all this back

- to the Jeffersonian? - Actually, yes.

Yes.

- If the techs could... - Great.

If we could just cross-reference

and catalogue all the evidence markers.

I need three techs in nitrile

to sweep for trace. This is an arson scene,

so you need nylon bags.

I want all the bone fragments

from the burnt skull put in Teflon cans

and heat-sealed before we ship them back to the Jeffersonian.

Did I miss anything? No, I don't think so.

Let's move. Move!

A shoe with brain all over it.

Let's prep the body for removal.

Right away. Yup.

Okay.

♪ Bones 8x02 ♪ The Partners in the Divorce Original Air Date on September 24, 2012

♪ Main Title Theme ♪ The Crystal Method == sync, corrected by elderman ==

♪

This is difficult.

Are you okay?

I don't mind admitting

that burned bodies churn up my guts up pretty good.

Well, pathology is a lot like football.

I need a helmet?

No, when in doubt, ignore the pain and plow ahead...

scientifically.

Ah, scientifically.

Yes, ma'am, I can do that.

House fires average approximately

1,200 degrees Fahrenheit.

Celsius, please?

Um, 650 Celsius.

Meaning?

The victim's stomach may still be intact enough

to discern a last meal. Ah.

You see, what it is, Dr. Saroyan, is that

I'm a basically a bones kind of fella,

and this is more like a barbecue.

Fine, tell me what you see on the X-rays.

Thank you, ma'am.

Well, there is this metal blob

that Dr. Brennan found lodged in the C-6.

Good. Possible cause of death.

We should have Dr. Hodgins take a look at it.

X-rays indicate that

the victim suffered

from multiple fractures to the ribs

as well as both femurs and tibias.

It's like our victim was beaten like a rented mule.

Sternal sutures indicate heart surgery.

Meaning...

Stents! Stents.

We can get a serial number

and identify the victim that way.

What was that all about?

Hitting the target. You should try it sometime.

No, I mean, you emptied your magazine.

You killed it.

How can you kill something that's not alive?

That's interesting.

I'm sorry?

Yeah, what in your personal life, is "dead"?

You know, metaphorically? What did you hear?

Just that there was some tension

on the crime scene this morning.

Tension?

Um, since Dr. Brennan returned

from her three months on the lam,

have you had any, uh, problems with your sex life?

Sex is not the problem.

You know what? It's the solution.

But you admit there's a problem then?

Bones took Christine and disappeared.

It-It was the right thing.

Then why are you so angry?

You want to know why? Yeah.

Bones cooked breakfast this morning.

That's why! She cooked breakfast!

Yeah, Bones?

Great. Okay. Cam got an I.D.

I'll tell you what. I'll come pick you up

and we'll go talk to the next of kin.

I love you.

Well, gotta go.

Hey, Booth. Yeah?

I just want you to know I understand.

You make breakfast, it's your thing

since you and Dr. Brennan moved in together.

Right. That's our morning routine.

And you're angry 'cause you can't have

the one thing that you want more than anything.

Which is?

For that three months,

when Dr. Brennan took your baby and left you alone,

to never have happened.

Well, those three months happened, okay, Sweets?

You can't unring the bell.

Egg-zack-ly.

Right.

Someone was bound to kill Richard.

Why? Was your husband an attorney

for organized crime or terrorists?

Much worse.

Richard was a white-shoe divorce lawyer.

I believe the victim's shoes were oxblood.

What she means is that

her husband is a lawyer for rich people.

No shoes.

Did, did he leave you any money?

Yes. Insurance, investments.

I'll be comfortable for the rest of my life.

I suppose that's what you'd call a motive.

The dissolution of marriage has been in practice

for countless centuries.

In fact, in Christian Byzantium,

a woman could divorce her husband

for a number of medical reasons,

including leprosy or impotence.

Uh, Dr. Brennan is wondering why being a divorce lawyer

would get your husband murdered.

Richard was ruthless.

No holds barred.

He'd do anything to win,

no matter what the collateral damage.

Where you or I would see an unhappy couple,

Richard would see an ATM.

So the losing side would hate him.

Absolutely.

Also clients,

lawyers, offspring.

Even the odd judge.

Is there someone at his work we can talk to?

His assistant, Margot Sandoval.

I hate the burned ones.

You're preaching to the choir on that one.

Angie whatever substance this is.

melts at very low temperature.

Hodgins says you weld weird metals.

Yeah, she makes sculptures out of materials

with relatively low melting points.

Like aluminum?

Are you sure that's what this is?

Well, according to the mass spec.

Well, if you get it out, maybe we can figure out

what it was before it was a melted blob.

Gently.

Gently...

Say gently again and I burn you.

Slick as a frog fart.

There's something else in there.

- What is that? Gold? - Looks like a...

...Fleur de lis.

It's a sign of the Priory of Sion,

a secret society that defies Papal Authority.

Honey, honey...

that's the nib of a fountain pen.

He was stabbed in the neck

with a fountain pen? Yeah, or assassinated by the Pope.

Or stabbed in the neck with a fountain pen.

Wow, must be nice working in the penthouse.

I mean, come on, look at that view.

Interesting anthropological fact:

men of power have always sought higher ground.

To that end, a floor that a man works on

could be seen as the literal representation

of where he fits in the hierarchical ladder.

I work on the fourth floor.

And despite that, I am very proud of you.

Right, um...

Uh, this is a hard-hat area,

so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.

FBI. I need a hard hat.

And, uh, directions

to Margot Sandoval's office.

And I need a hard hat, too.

This is gonna slow me down.

That's a shame.

Buddy, a little mercy, all right?

I'm doing renovations for a bunch of lawyers,

who threaten to sue me every day.

I'm going bald with the stress.

Well, you know why I have good hair?

Because I don't let lawyers stress me out. That's true.

Okay, okay, fine. Who do you need to see again?

Richard Bartlett.

Uh, you'll lose a few hairs after you meet Bartlett.

Trust me.

Could I get the blue hard hat?

I got a great idea for this weekend.

What?

Let's take Christine to the carousel.

Oh, no, that is not a good idea.

How do you know?

I took her to one in Woolrich, Pennsylvania,

and she did not like it.

Well, maybe because I wasn't there.

Why would that make any difference?

Is everything all right? Oh, you know, I just don't like

being in a divorce lawyer's office, that's all.

Why?

Well, 'cause it reminds me that things, you know, fall apart.

Well, it's a good thing we're not married, right?

You are not a very reassuring person, Bones.

FBI, Ms. Sandoval, open up.

I hear something.

Of course you hear something, 'cause someone's inside, Bones.

Knock it down. It's Ms. Sandoval. FBI.

Please open up the door.

Hi.

Sorry to keep you waiting, but we're closed.

If you need a referral for another divorce attorney...

No.

No, we're not here for a divorce.

We're not married.

FBI.

The last time I saw Richard

was when I left work two days ago.

6:00 in the evening.

6:00 in the evening, wow, that's early

for a high-powered lawyer to close shop.

Oh, definitely.

It wasn't weird for us to be here until 10:00 p.m.

but Richard said I wasn't needed.

Can we see his calendar?

Not without a warrant.

I'm sorry, who are you trying to impress, Ms. Sandoval?

Your boss is dead.

Booth? Yeah.

One of these fountain pens is missing. Okay.

Wait, I said you could come in to ask a couple of questions.

You're gonna need a warrant if...

Could you please stand away from that? This machine is warm.

Have you been shredding documents?

Richard left specific instructions

in case of death or disappearance.

Booth?

Yeah?

This is blood.

Blood?

Whoa, okay.

Well, that means that this whole room is a crime scene.

Which means we don't need a warrant.

I need you to reassemble

all of the documents that have been shredded.

That's all?

Yes, as quickly as possible, of course.

Of course. Good. Good.

No, no, no. No. Not good.

This is bad.

Look at this.

This is tiny, tiny

little pieces of paper.

Gazillions of them.

That is not an actual number.

Yeah, but it's an actual problem.

This is a particle-cut shredder.

That means that each sheet

can be cut into 4,000 little pieces.

So not only am I going to have to figure out how to scan

each and every piece, but then I'm also gonna have to

somehow write a code that can somehow recognize patterns

within each little, tiny, confetti-sized bit.

So it seems that you have a handle on it.

Okay.

Hey.

You know, you haven't told me how it's going.

While there are a few suspects,

we don't have any definitive evidence.

You and Booth.

You two should be locked in a bedroom somewhere,

making up for lost time,

and telling me everything about it.

What's going on?

Nothing.

Okay.

Hodgins said that you seemed a little tense with each other

at the crime scene.

We're fine.

Given the time spent apart.

There are many cultures,

specifically Native American tribes from Montana...

Honey, I don't want to hear about any anthropological crap.

I want to know how my best friend is doing.

I don't understand what you want me to say.

I was gone, and now I'm back.

Booth and I are living in the same house again,

raising our daughter, and solving another murder.

I'm still the same person that I always was.

You worked at a fast food place.

And you were a single mother.

You didn't even know if you were gonna see Booth again.

That changes a person.

And now that I'm home, I've changed back.

Okay. Okay.

Listen, just know

that if you wake up in the middle of the night screaming,

that you can call me,

and we can... we can talk it out.

I don't know what that means, but... thank you.

I should let you work.

You have a lot to do.

Yeah.

So, did you identify the accelerant that was used

to torch that poor fella?

Well, most of it vaporized.

All I know so far is that it contains cyclohexylamine,

but I'm still looking.

All right, here you go, clean and ready to go.

Much obliged. Rootin' tootin'.

Excuse me?

You said "much obliged,"

I was suddenly in a Western...

Can we just forget I said that?

I'm afraid that's not gonna happen.

Mm. Thought so.

Hey, um... all these fractures, right?

Are they from the brain exploding?

Oh, well, when the liquid in the brain reached a boiling point,

it blew from the midline to the left coronal suture.

You ever think you'd be having these conversations

when you were growing up? Nope.

But I sure hoped I would. Yeah.

Dr. Hodgins.

I need you to identify

the makeup of these stomach contents.

Ah, it just keeps getting better and better.

Have you found something of value, Mr. Abernathy,

or are you merely enjoying this man's last meal?

The concentric microfracturing

to the occipital were definitely not from the brain rupturing.

They're most commonly associated with a fall.

You mean fall,

like someone passing out after getting stabbed with a pen?

No, uh, I'm afraid we're looking at

something a bit more violent, ma'am.

Wow.

His wife was right; Bartlett was ruthless.

He'd bleed people dry for his clients. Right.

Which means we have a huge stack of people here

who wanted him dead.

Not his clients; they must've loved him.

Well, according to bank reports, I mean, this guy...

Bartlett was loaded.

We're talking, you know, "private plane" loaded.

I mean, why would he keep working?

'Cause with a guy like that, it's not about money,

it's about power and control.

You know, he destroyed senators, athletes,

even a Saudi prince.

You know, Bones and I, we're just fine, okay?

Just so you know that.

So you don't have to worry about us.

I didn't say anything. I know you, though.

That's how you ask a question.

I assure you, I'm not that good.

Yeah, well, you know what?

I assure you that that door is shut.

Completely done. Finished.

Okay, I'm glad you had this little talk with yourself.

Thank you. Um...

I did find one of Bartlett's files that looks promising.

Right.

Carmichael v. Carmichael.

Gavin Carmichael and his wife had an extremely ugly divorce.

A lot of threats.

Now look, look at page two.

Wow, that's bad. It's a transcript of a message

that she left on, uh, Bartlett's voicemail.

Page two.

"Bartlett, you are a lying bastard,

"and I swear to God

before I'm done, I'll make sure your days are numbered."

Why is a voicemail transcript included in the file?

Bartlett used the message to reinforce the husband's claims

that his wife had a history of violence.

It says once that she clubbed her hubby with a bottle of wine

because he bought the wrong vintage.

To be fair, 2000 was a questionable year for Merlot.

So, why this couple,

and-and not the woman who stabbed her husband

in the eye with a shrimp fork?

Because Bartlett had a meeting scheduled

with both Gavin and his wife Melanie

at 7:00 p.m. the night he was murdered.

What about Melanie's attorney? She represented herself.

Margot said that the notes from the meeting

were with the documents she was told to shred.

Never easy, is it? Never easy.

Just look at the depositions. These two are insane.

Melanie accused Gavin of not being a man.

Then Gavin starts yelling at her for assault. It's nuts!

Some people are just not meant to be together.

Well, they gave up after less than two years.

I mean, marriage is about working through the tough times.

More often, marriage is about divorce,

which is why Bartlett could afford

three homes and a plane.

Well, the question is...

I mean, why did Melanie meet with Bartlett and Gavin

after the divorce was settled?

Logic dictates that if she was going to kill anyone,

it would be her ex-husband. I agree.

We're on the same page.

That's good.

It is a little surprising to see you two together.

Not as surprised as we are.

The reason Gavin and I met with Bartlett that night

was to undo our divorce.

Undo?

Yeah. I mean, we realized how childish we'd been.

We always loved each other.

And we only gave it two years.

Marriage is about working through

the difficult times, right?

That's so true.

Isn't that right?

And we just kind of lost each other.

I was working too much.

Yeah, me too.

I think we just forgot how much we meant to each other.

So you went from assaulting each other

to reconciling in a matter of a few days?

It's possible, Bones.

Well, time travel's possible... theoretically.

Forgive my partner. She's a bit cynical.

While Agent Booth can be a bit idealistic.

We're going to have a baby.

So perhaps that makes it easier to understand.

Yeah, a child sort of puts things in perspective.

And Gavin is an architect, as you know,

and he's designing us a new place

with a detached playhouse for the baby.

It was kind of like Bartlett was giving us a second chance.

I really wanted to show him the new house I'm designing for us.

We're calling it our "second act" house.

So...

all the threats

against your husband, against Bartlett,

those are no longer a part of you?

People change.

If you don't believe that,

I feel sorry for you.

You found something, Dr. Hodgins?

Oh, ho-ho, yeah.

I did a microscopic analysis

of the victim's stomach contents.

Did you have any suspicions of what I might find?

I knew it was meat,

but there were so many additives.

curry paste, right?

Sea salt, red pepper, red poblano chili...

I got the poblano chili.

Where is this leading, 'cause you seem very excited.

Capers and tarragon, which I would never think to combine.

Dr. Hodgins, this is not Top Chef.

Well, it-it sort of is.

What we have here

was an expertly prepared burger.

And this has meaning why?

Because whoever made it was masking the meat,

which came from rattus norvegicus.

Excuse me? Yeah.

Richard Bartlett's last meal...

...was a rat burger.

Yeah.

I got nothing to say without my lawyer present.

Mm-hmm.

Well, legal representation is your Constitutional right,

but I'm telling you the minute a lawyer gets here,

I can't help you.

You say that, but you don't mean that.

You served your divorce lawyer a rat burger.

Says you.

The ingredients-- aside from the rat--

forensically matched your kitchen.

What ingredients?

What ingredients? Let's take a look here.

Curry paste, Corsican sea salt,

red peppers, a fairly rare Russian tarragon,

Menorcan capers, red poblano chilies. Oh!

This is the pan you used.

All you're doing here is convincing me

I need a lawyer.

You prepared the rat.

You didn't just dice it up and toss it in the pan.

You treated it like a fine filet.

You really hated Richard Bartlett.

Now that's a fact.

He was your lawyer.

You won!

Look, at first, I thought he was my savior.

Then I got his bill.

That bastard charged me so much, I would

have been better off giving half to my wife.

So you served him the burger as revenge?

Every Tuesday night for two years...

with a year and a half to go.

Excuse me? He was gonna eat rat for as long

as I was married; three and one-half years.

For poetical reasons.

He figured it out somehow,

called you to his office,

threatened to sue you, take away your restaurant,

and you killed him.

Okay, now you're just being insulting.

'Cause I'm accusing you of murder?

'Cause you're insulting my cooking!

He loved that burger! You check my e-mails.

All Bartlett does is rave about that burger.

Why would I kill him?

Now I never get the satisfaction of seeing that bastard's face

when he finds out he ate rat every Tuesday night.

Want to see something amazing?

I'm speechless.

I stabbed a mango.

I can see that. Congratulations.

But this is even better.

Oh, my God. What happened?

My hand slipped,

but my DNA ended up in the fountain pen,

and so did our bad guy's...

...fingernail.

Yeah. Can you get DNA off of it?

Please. King of the lab.

So, what did you find?

I don't think stabbing is cause of death.

It would have been shocking and painful,

but the pen didn't sever any veins

or arteries or damage the spinal cord.

Take a look at these longitudinal fractures to the femur.

Also the fractures to the acetabulum anterior wall

and posterior column...

from the heads of the femur being pushed upwards.

So the victim jumped from a building and landed on his feet.

I am not seeing cause of death.

The cascading horizontal lacerations to the ribs,

femurs, tibias on both the anterior and posterior planes,

like he was falling head over heels, down stairs.

But he didn't strike his head.

Finn and I can run some scenarios,

see if we can figure something out.

In the meantime, I was able to reconstitute

some of the documents from the victim's shredder.

What did you come up with?

I initially had some trouble

with the shredded photo we found...

then I discovered that there were pieces

of a typed document stuck to the photo ink.

You mean like if you took the photo and the document,

shredded them one on top of the other?

Yeah.

What is that?

A prenuptial agreement.

Richard Bartlett's personal prenup with his own wife.

The section on infidelity is highlighted.

She was cheating with another man?

Some of this imagery have been interpolated,

but I was able to clean up the central image.

And there's the victim's wife, Pamela.

With another woman.

Margot Sandoval.

This is the woman that Booth and Brennan caught

shredding these documents.

My point of view, she ain't got nothing to be ashamed of.

Except for cheating on her husband.

Right, yes, of course.

You lied to Agent Booth, Margot.

You said that you were shredding files because that's what

your boss wanted in the event of his death.

That's true.

I didn't kill Richard.

Why would I kill my boss?

Maybe 'cause of this?

Oh, my God... Yeah.

Yeah, that was sort of our reaction, too.

On the night of the murder,

where did you go after you left the office?

Home. Pamela met me there. You can ask her.

Well, you can understand why

Pamela isn't the most reliable person to talk to.

She was going to tell Richard. She just didn't know how.

'Cause she could have been cut off with nothing.

You saw the prenup, right?

I mean, it seems like both of you had a pretty good motive

to get Mr. Bartlett out of your lives.

Pamela and I are in love. We don't care about the money.

Yeah, it's easy to say when you know

you'll have a lot of it.

When did you first find out

that Richard knew about the affair?

This picture.

He called me in to ask me to call clients,

file depositions, but the real reason

was so I would see the picture on his desk.

I tried to talk to him,

but he wouldn't listen.

But that was Richard--

when he'd just get this look in his eye like an executioner.

I-I tried to talk to him.

So you fought? No.

No one fights with Richard.

He just tells you what's gonna happen,

and there's nothing you can do about it.

He was going to ruin Pamela.

Okay, then why did you, why did you shred the picture?

He was already dead. Why should Pamela lose everything?

I was protecting the person that I love.

Wouldn't you?

Where's Pamela now?

Isn't she at home?

No. She's gone.

The housekeeper doesn't even know where she is.

Seems like she has made quite a mess

and left you to pick up the pieces.

Okay, so this is the victim falling down a flight of stairs.

That's absurd.

Look, I know this looks a mite strange, but I swear

this is the only scenario that explains all

horizontal anterior and posterior injuries.

What about the compression fractures to the long bones?

Oh, it's coming.

Congratulations, Mr. Abernathy,

you have successfully reconstructed

the death of Wile E. Coyote.

Wow, honey!

That was a very impressive pop culture reference.

Christine and I may have watched a few cartoons while I was away.

I have to say, ma'am, I've sure missed working with you.

I imagine you have.

Although I'm sure Agent Booth has missed you more.

Is this helping the case, Mr. Abernathy?

No, ma'am, I'm just appreciating

the Good Lord's work getting you back.

If God was involved in our lives,

these cases wouldn't be so hard to solve.

I'm not so sure about that.

Without a challenge,

you wouldn't know how brilliant you are.

What if both the stairs

and the steep fall happened at the same time?

Excuse me?

Mr. Abernathy may be on to something.

The bones tells us

that the victim suffered an extremely steep fall.

He had to have been falling at a rate

least 50 miles per hour

to sustain the compression injuries.

He also sustained cascading horizontal injuries

to the front and back of his body.

So you're saying it's almost as if he fell down a...

almost vertical staircase.

Which, of course, doesn't exist.

I know what happened.

Okay, you sure about this?

It seems like the most

reasonable explanation.

This is good stuff.

Which means we can wrap up this case

and we can have a nice weekend.

I was going to take Christine to the Children's Museum.

You were?

Yes.

I was thinking that maybe, you know,

we can go to the carousel.

Give her another chance.

Why? I told you that she didn't like it.

I know, but maybe it'll be different, you know,

now that her dad is there.

Are you saying I didn't know how to take care of my daughter?

What? Wait a second. No. It wasn't easy out there, Booth.

Here we go again. What?!

What do you mean, "What"?

You're not out there anymore, Bones, okay?

You're back, and I'm part of your life, remember?

Yeah, it's hard to forget.

Okay, what's that supposed to mean?

I'm not getting into this now. You're angry.

Of course I'm angry, huh? Wouldn't you be angry?

I tried to understand you,

but it's like you wish you were still out there!

Don't be absurd! Oh, God! Maybe you should just

try to see things from my point of view,

how I'm seeing things,

'cause it ain't pretty here.

From what I'm seeing,

I'm getting shut out all the time!

I'm not going to fight.

We'll talk when you are capable of being rational.

You know, you can't just cut me off like that

because you're scared to fight!

I'm not engaging, Booth.

Oh, right, that's it. Sure.

That's it, just run away.

Just hide behind that big brain of yours.

Escape all the messiness.

Acting like an adult is not hiding.

Well, you know what?

You're gonna have to face it sooner or later.

Do not tell me how to live. We are not married!

We are both free agents,

and I've done just fine on my own!

Fine! Fine!

Fine!

Hey, is everything okay here?

No! No!

I need to get to your construction chute.

Wait, now-- that's a very dangerous area.

I can't let you go back there. FBI! Angry FBI!

Hey, I'm not supposed to let anybody...

Hey, hey, where are you going?

Whoever killed Richard Bartlett could have easily

moved the body out here any time after 6:00

without being seen.

There's lipping on each of the stacked cans,

evenly spaced like stairs. This chute

could definitely have created the damage

found on the, on the body.

I need to take a closer look.

Wait!

Now, this is my site.

I'm responsible.

- You can't go in there. - He's right.

You can't just go rappelling down some garbage chute.

He, he could be the murderer, Booth.

He already admitted that Bartlett was suing him.

Just hold my feet.

No. Fine, then,

as previously stated, I will act as the free agent that I am.

I'm not sticking around here to watch her kill herself.

One move and I'll shoot you.

Oh, Bones, no.

Don't drop me. I won't.

Bones!

I see blood and tissue, Booth.

What?

This is where he died.

I'm sorry, Bones.

You shouldn't be sorry for saying what you mean.

I'm sorry I caused you pain.

I'm sorry about that too.

I mean for hurting you, not for hurting me.

I get it.

Should I come back or...?

Oh, no!

Uh, come in, come in, Mr. Abernathy.

Do you see these fissure lines

inferior to the squamosal suture?

The cracks.

They're from the fire.

When I was examining the skull,

I found that the fissures felt...

What was the word I used, Mr. Abernathy?

Disquisitive.

I had to look it up.

In this case, it means that

her spidey-sense was tingling.

What's the deal? What's that mean?

There's something in the fissures.

The cracks.

Dr. Hodgins says it's a mixture of toluene, hexane

and methyl ethyl ketone.

Most likely from the accelerant used to burn the body.

It's a highly flammable solvent used by architects

when building polystyrene models.

Architect...

Give me an hour.

Thank you... for coming here.

You're welcome.

Okay.

Good luck with the "maxamesomin."

Good luck to you, too.

Okay.

We don't usually kiss in front of people,

but we had a disagreement.

You already had the fight?

Yes.

And that was the two of you making up

after the fight you already had?

I don't... understand your tone of incredulity.

Oh, no, ma'am, it's just...

when my mom and my stepdad used to get all polite,

like the two of you were just then...

that meant all hell was gonna break loose.

Glue.

You think Gavin killed Bartlett because of some glue?

Solvent, actually.

Right. Not just Gavin. You helped.

Me? It was Gavin's glue you found.

Thanks, Melanie.

It's solvent. Solvent. We got that.

Okay, we found your DNA on the murder weapon-- here.

What?!

If you mean the pen,

I cut myself on that

when we signed the divorce agreement.

How did you know

which pen was used to stab Richard Bartlett?

Obviously, it's the one with my fingernail in it.

We should call a lawyer.

Suck it up, Gavin.

These are just tricks.

Besides, we don't need a lawyer

because I'm a lawyer.

They'll probably want the divorce back.

Probably from a cheaper lawyer, too,

because you didn't pay your bill, pal.

Oh, the bill was a couple months past due.

That's not a crime.

Richard Bartlett is not a patient man; not at all.

He nullified your divorce.

Apparently your middle name was missing

and your wife's maiden name.

Bartlett used those mistakes

to render the whole document null and void.

So you stabbed him in the neck with his own pen.

I want to make a deal.

Shut up, you weaselly little coward.

Now I really want to make a deal.

Melanie killed him.

All I'm guilty of is helping her

get rid of the body. Moron,

you're admitting to conspiracy.

Still not murder.

I'll testify.

We have a deal? He wasn't dead

when you tossed him down the construction chute.

What? What?

You mean Gavin actually killed him?

Yes.

If he tossed him down the garbage chute.

Well, he did.

You helped! She helped.

I'll be the one cutting the deal.

All I did was jab him with a pen.

You killed the bastard.

You told me he was dead.

You checked for his pulse.

We could've saved his life!

Idiot-- you just confessed twice to murder.

Idiot?!

Gavin was also the one

who set him on fire.

And he liked it.

Well, it's good to know.

She lied about being pregnant.

Can you imagine

this bitch as a mother?

I just don't understand how two people like you

ever got married in the first place.

♪ Just look at what I turned my back on ♪

♪ A mother, I wanted to be the greatest one ♪

♪ So I followed down the narrow land ♪

♪ I saw the raven in the glory of the sun ♪

♪ All along, maybe I knew ♪

♪ But a true thing ain't easy to do ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh-ooh ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh-ooh... ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh-ooh ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh-ooh... ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh-ooh ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh-ooh... ♪

Hi.

Hi.

Kinda late.

Well, I...

I went to see Sweets.

Why?

Because...

something is wrong with me.

No, Bones, nothing is wrong with you.

I thought, today, when we apologized to each other

that everything was fine.

Because we were being polite.

Yes.

We were polite,

but you still knew that everything wasn't fine.

I was, uh...

hoping that it would be.

You know, in the future.

Only if we admit that it isn't fine right now.

Sweets says that I am subconsciously

rebelling against the fact that

my happiness is now contingent

upon your happiness, and Christine's.

Sweets, he's good with the psychology, okay?

But we're more than psychology.

We're gonna be okay.

I just, I don't want to be polite about this.

I'll just make sure that it doesn't happen again.

How?

I'll fart when I kiss you.

I was mad.

I lost you and Christine for three months.

I'm never gonna be able to get that time back.

I have a way to fix that.

Oh, you have a time machine in your basement?

No...

we can take Christine to the carousel.

Even though I know the outcome.

You're a wild woman.

I love you.

I'm willing to do irrational things to prove it.

That's irrational?

Don't you dare. What?

Don't you dare... I would never...

== sync, corrected by elderman ==