Author's Note:

Hey, guys...this is, like, my third time uploading this b/c fanfiction's playing up on my laptop.

Anyway, the storyline is that the Psych peeps came from Santa Barbara to help out B/B because they broke up and Bones is pregnant...which sucks. Shawn and Gus become good friends with them, nicknaming Booth 'SB' (something my friend came up with, I guess I should give her some credit lol). And now they're working on 'The Proof in the Pudding' case, except I'm calling it 'The Proof in the Pineapple for various reasons... (also, Shawn proposed to Juliet, except not in real life. -.- I'll post that story some other time.

And Lassie, Henry, and Chief Vick aren't in this one. Sorry! And Gus is an intern...kind of. That's why he's referred to as 'Dr. Guster' sometimes. Which sounds weird, I know.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or Psych. It would make my day if I did, tho!

"Bones, it's as clear as a photograph," said Booth, who stood over Temperance and her desk with a fresh box of pizza on top of it. Shawn and Gus were settled in her new armchairs, especially made for pregnant women, indulging in their food. "You can't see anything in the cheese?"

"Seeing patterns where they aren't is a symptom of schizophrenia," stated Temperance.

"You're a paranoid schizophrenic!" chimed Shawn and Gus.

"Shut up, you two. You're talkin' about Hodgins right there. But, anyway, Bones, you cannot see that?"

"No."

"Can I guess?" asked Shawn, who stood up and yelled, "Hey, guys, guess who I am!" He kicked out his leg and shuffled across the floor. When he was done, they all stared at him. "Michael Jackson...King of Pop..." He sat back in his chair, disappointed.

"That was not Michael Jackson," snorted Gus.

"How did you know that?" asked Booth.

"You were about to kick out your leg, SB. I am the world's best fake psychic."

"Okay, let's leave Bones in peace."

"See ya, Dr. B!" called Shawn as he leaped out of his seat, and the three boys conga-lined out of the office.

Temperance chuckled and turned back towards her computer. A few minutes later, Cam walked into the office with a pregnancy test in her hand.

"Hello, Dr. Brennan, can I ask you a quick and stupid question?"

"Um...sure..."

"Did you take a pregnancy test recently?"

"No...the last time was when I was still dating Booth. But that is a stupid question, since you are fully aware that I am pregnant anyway."

"...I'm sure you're curious why I asked you that."

"Well, you're holding an at-home pregnancy test and it's obviously positive, so you are worried about losing your most important employee when the time comes for me to give birth."

"Uh, thanks for being modest, but it's because Michelle was here a few hours ago, and the only people who use the restroom down that hall are you, me, and Angela."

"Angela is still dating Hodgins..."

"You're right, Dr. Brennan. You're really cheering me up right now." Cam hurried out of the room and to Angela's office.

"Hey, Ange!" said Cam. "Are you by any chance pregnant?"

Angela looked up from her paperwork. "I beg your pardon?""I-I found this pregnancy test in the restroom-" Cam cut herself off and turned around. O'Hara had been putting her things her purse and had frozen. "What?"

Cam turned back to Angela. "I'm sorry, I thought we were alone-"

"No, it's okay. But why are you asking me?"

"Well, this isn't mine, and Dr. Brennan hasn't used one since her relationship with Booth, so I thought it was you." Angela just kept staring at her.

"I'm not crazy," said Cam, looking from Angela to O'Hara. "I'm not crazy...really, I'm not..." She hurried out of the room.

O'Hara looked at Angela. "So, what was that all about?"

"What makes Cam crazy?" asked Angela simply.

"Um...Hodgins' experiments?"

"And..."

" ...Michelle," O'Hara realized, and Angela nodded.

~***~

Cam sighed as she walked towards the exit of the Jeffersonian. "Cam, they're not letting me leave!" said Sweets. Two men stood before the automatic doors with expressionless faces.

"What's going on?" Suddenly, a tall, black man walked into the lab with two women rolling a covered, coffin-shaped encasement followed right behind him.

"Everyone who is presently in this facility is not allowed to leave," said the man.

"I'm in charge of this facility!" snapped Cam.

"Not tonight, Dr. Saroyan."

"Who are you guys?" asked Sweets.

"I am Mr. White, in charge of the General Services Administration." He showed them his badge before returning it to his pocket and walking into the lab.

"You mean the people we order pencils and paper cups from?" asked Cam, but Mr. White's reply was cut off by Temperance.

"What's going on?" she asked, with Shawn and Gus not far behind. Booth had already left.

"Oh, hello Dr. Brennan, Dr. Guster, and you must be the Psychic Detective." Mr. White shook hands with the three of them before retreating to the coffin-like encasement as his assistant agents put a silver box on the doors to prevent entry or exit. "The government requires you to figure out how this person died as a matter of national security. Until you do, you will all stay here." Mr. White gave Temperance a silver briefcase.

"Wait, does that include me?" asked Sweets.

"But he's only a psychologist!" spoke up Gus.

"No one in and no one out by the order of the Federal Government. Now, you have until dawn tomorrow to fulfill this task."

"But-" Shawn began, but Mr. White cut him off.

"No buts, Mr. Spencer," he said, and he walked away.

"This is gonna be bad," sighed Shawn, and they all looked down at the encasement.

~***~

"Booth?" Sweets whispered. He was on the phone to him, hiding in Temperance's office.

"What do you want, Sweets? I'm in the middle of dinner. And why are you whispering?"

"A bunch of government guys came in and sealed the place up. They brought in a body, and they won't let anyone come in or leave!"

"Slow down. What government guys?"

"They claim that they are from the General Services Administration," answered Sweets.

"Whoa...who else is there?"

"Uh, Dr's. Brennan, Saroyan, Guster, Hodgins, and then Shawn, Angela, and me. But why would they want me? I'm only a psychologist!"

"It's okay, Sweets, I'll look into it."

"But what do I do?...Hello? Booth!" But the signal was gone. Sweets sighed and put his phone back in his pocket.

~***~

Once the encasement was on the platform, Mr. White pulled the black cloak from it, revealing a silver coffin. He opened the coffin, where clean bones rested in peace. "No testing and no samples," he said strictly to Cam, Temperance, and Gus. "These remains will leave in exactly the same condition as when they arrived. My men will observe and no one comes in or out. Clear?"

"As a crystal," said Gus nervously. This guy was the scariest person he had ever met.

"So, now that you've kidnapped me, my lab, and my co-workers, perhaps you could tell me why," said Cam.

"You have not been kidnapped, Dr. Saroyan," Mr. White cleared. "You've been ordered by your government to do your patriotic duty in your workspace."

"Your testing and samples restriction could severely limit our insights," said Temperance.

"We only require cause of death, Dr. Brennan," said Mr. White just before placing his hand on the briefcase. "Now, there are samples in here that you may examine, but they, too, must not be harmed." Suddenly, his phone beeped. He flipped it open, and it read:

We have detained Agent Booth.

Mr. White looked up from his phone and said, "Identification of the victim is priority zero. Now, if you'll excuse me." He walked past Gus, and a shiver was sent down his spine.

"Uh, is there any chance that you two can right away guess cause of death?" asked Cam quietly. Temperance looked at her, puzzled. "Guess?"

"I need to get home to kill Michelle." They all sighed and got to work.

~***~

"So, any of you guys like hockey?" Booth asked to the three men who surrounded him in the parking garage. They all stayed silent. "Y'know, I'm all for the Flyers. Raise the roof!" Booth's hands soon retreated to his pockets. "I guess not...knitting, maybe? Soccer's big...David Beckham. Texting...typing...football...baseball...c'mon, you guys like something."

Thankfully for the other men, Mr. White came onto the scene, but Booth started chatting again. "Well, if it ain't the big guy himself! How's it going?"

Mr. White said nothing as one of the men handed him Booth's badge. "FBI Special Agent Seeley J. Booth, correct?"

Booth snorted. "My face is on that thing and you know who I am. But I'm gonna cut to the chase: why did you lock up my people?"

"That information is classified, Agent Booth," said Mr. White, handing Booth his badge. "And they're not really your people-"

"I want to go inside," said Booth simply.

"That's not going to happen."

"You timed this, didn't you? So then I wouldn't be in there to stop this." There was a smug look on Booth's face.

"Do you need help getting home, Agent Booth?" asked Mr. White, towering over him. But Booth wasn't afraid of this man, and his expression didn't change either. He began walking towards the elevator, and once the men were out of earshot, Booth whipped out his phone and called Sweets. He answered almost immediately.

"Booth?"

"Sorry about that. Can you talk? Is anyone else there?"

"Juliet, Hodgins and Angela."

"Okay, put me on speaker." Sweets pressed the speakerphone button and placed the phone on the table.

"Hey, Booth," said Angie, relieved. "This is really weird..."

"How do we know that these guys aren't terrorists?" asked Hodgins.

"They're not terrorists. They're standard federal issue agents."

"Why would the GSA bring in a body?" asked Sweets.

"Standard federal issue cover-up," suggested O'Hara.

"This is the first time I've been as paranoid as Hodgins," said Angela, and Hodgins rolled his eyes.

Booth snorted. "And Bones calls me a schizophrenic. Look, don't worry. If anyone's gonna lock you guys up, it's gonna be me."

"Why're these guys letting us use cell phones?" asked Hodgins.

"Because whatever these guys are doing, they think they're untouchable," said Booth, and he hung up.