Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan ducked under yellow caution tapes and dodged FBI squints as they made their way up to the gray stone building with stained glass windows.

An FBI squint lead them up to a side entrance with a grand door made of dark, shining wood. Booth quickly shushed Brennan, though she hadn’t been talking, and led them into the room.

It was small, but no one could say it was neglected. Though the room smelled of dust, every wood surface was dusted and polished to a shine, the red velvet cushions seemed clean enough.

It was evident to see why Doctor Brennan had been called in. A skeleton was on its knees before the alter, its hands and feet tied together with what looked to be a singed rope.

Doctor Brennan snapped on latex gloves, “Victim is fifteen to eighteen caucasian male. He seems to be-” she had been walking towards the remains, but Booth yanked her back by the arm.

“Bones,” he hissed, “you can’t just waltz in here like that.”

Bones was confused, “What are you talking about, Booth? I’m identifying the remains.”

“But you can’t... Bones, this is the house of God.”

“God doesn’t exist, Booth,” she said and broke free of his grasp.

He looked like he wanted to go after her, but an FBI squint, one who was new to the job, came up to him with a question. Doctor Brennan proceeded to examine the remains, making observations to herself, “The bones seemed slightly charred. Anterior ribs six and seven are snapped in half. Angela can do a facial reconstruction once we get back to the Jeffersonian. Hmmm... that’s odd,” she said

“What is?” Booth asked, having finished with his squint, and now was completely ignoring the fact that she was in front of the alter of God

“He appears to have been tortured.”

***

“Alright, I’ve finished the reconstruction and I’m running it through the missing persons database,” Angela said as Brennan hung over her shoulder

The faces stopped whirring by and a match showed up. Looking up at them was an auburn-haired blue-eyed boy wearing a sweatshirt that said St. John the Baptists’s Preparatory School for Gifted Young Men across the front. The side of the picture said; Joseph Mitsotakis.

He was smiling blissfully, like he was the happiest man on earth.

Nika Antonov, the new intern, leaned over Angela’s other shoulder and placed both her hands on the desk before her, a diamond and ring glittering on the third finger of her left hand, “He’s kind of cute,” when the other two women looked up at her, she defended herself by saying, “you know, for a kid.”

“I’ll go get Booth,” Brennan said and walked out of the room

***

The boy’s house was quaint, but still held that ‘white picket house fence’ all-American feel. Booth walked next to Brennan, like a faithful little puppy.

They bantered back and forth about trivial things; Had Brennan gotten her television fixed yet? No? What a shame. How was Parker? Good? How nice.

A woman answered the door, half-hidden behind it, “Yes? May I help you?”

“I’m Doctor Brennan with the Jeffersonian, in partnership with the FBI. This is Agent Booth. May we come in?” Brennan asked

The woman’s eyes widened in fear, but she nodded and made way. She lead them into what appeared to be the living room, and gestured for them to sit down on the couch.

A man walked into the room, “I didn’t know we were having company,” he said

“You may want to sit down,” Booth said

He gave Booth a questioning look, but sat down anyway.

“It’s about Joseph,” Booth said

“Is he in trouble?” Mrs. Mitsotakis asked

Mr. Mitsotakis stood up and roared, “I knew it! I saw it coming! It’s that damned girl he’s been hanging around! I warned him, and lo and behold she corrupted him!”

“Mr. Mitsotakis, please sit down,” Booth said in his ‘serious’ voice, getting up. He stood taller than the other man, who reluctantly sat back down again, “Joseph was found dead in Lady Mary of Mercy’s chapel.”

Mrs. Mitsotakis broke out in tears. Mr. Mitsotakis roared, “Dead in Mary Mercy’s chapel! My boy!”

“Yes, sir, and damage to the remains suggests-” Brennan began

“That he never saw it coming,” Booth cut her off

Realization hit Brennan and she kept quiet about how she found conclusive evidence that he had been burned alive.

“Who... who would do such a thing to my Joseph?” Mrs. Mitsotakis asked

“I’ll tell you who, that damned Blythe girl!” Mr. Mitsotakis roared, having found his voice again, “That damned Blythe girl was the end of my boy! She killed him! She corrupted him, and then she killed him!”

“Mr. Mitsotakis, please sit down,” Booth said

“Who is this ‘Blythe girl?’” Brennan asked

“Mary Blythe, his girlfriend,” Mrs. Mitsotakis said quietly, “she’s a troubled young soul. Smells like smoke all the time, sometimes like liquor.”

“Troubled young soul my foot! The girl was bad for him, and I warned him!” Mr. Mitsotakis yelled, “I warned him, but did he listen? No! He’d rather let the-” and here he said a word which cannot be transcribed, in case children are reading this, “corrupt and kill him!”

Brennan and Booth looked at each other. They’d check out Mary Blythe, then come back here.

“Thank you for your help. We’re very sorry for your loss,” Booth said, putting a hand on Mrs. Mitsotakis’s shoulder

***

This is my first Bones story, so forgive me if it sucks.

~Madison