All language subtitles for Bones S08E02 The Partners in the Divorce

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 ==