Chapter One

"Booth, I am perfectly capable to carry these myself," said forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan to her partner –and now boyfriend- Seeley Booth.

"I know that you can carry them, Bones," was the FBI agent's exasperated response. "I was being a gentleman by offering you a hand." Temperance Brennan just shook her head.

"I don't know why. As you can see, I have two of my own. But I do appreciate your efforts," She added, when she saw that half annoyed half disbelieving expression flicker across his face; the one that appears so much of the time that they're together.

Sighing, she handed him the heaviest of the two shopping bags, realizing that for some reason that was unknown to her, it was important that he helped her carry them. It seemed unreasonable to her, but if the charming, crooked smile he flashed her was any indicator, it had made him happy. She began to notice that lots of the small things that meant nothing to her were very important to Booth. Brennan thought back to the advice she had received from Angela on the day she had told her best friend that she was pregnant with Booth's child.

"Be careful with him, sweetie," Angie had told her. "Men are fragile, especially at times like this." At first Brennan hadn't understood at first, but after Angie cast a meaningful look at her stomach she knew.

Bringing herself back to the present, Brennan realized that they had reached Booth's car, and she helped him load the groceries into the backseat of the vehicle. He walked around the car to open her door and help her climb inside, and then shut the door for her. She let it slide, and didn't tell him that his assistance wasn't needed, as she had decided to take Angela's advice.

Booth's cell phone rang, and he flipped it open and listened to the familiar voice on the other end speak. He then flipped it shut, and turned to his partner.

"Change of plans, Bones," he said "there's been a murder." Booth switched lanes, and instead of heading towards Bones' house to drop off her newly acquired groceries, they were headed to a middle school about twenty minutes from their current location.

Twenty minutes later Booth was standing up to his ankles in a swamp, swatting at mosquitoes, and watching Bones work her magic. The building looked like your typical, run-of-the-mill school. It was a two-story structure with windows in every room, and an American Flag flying high in front of the school.

Booth tuned in just in time to hear Bones' on-the-spot analysis. "The subject appears to be female, aging between eleven and fourteen…" Booth's thoughts drifted back to his own middle school days. He had been just like all of his other friends; crazy about sports and girls. He tried to imagine a young Bones, and he found that it was hard.

He knew that when her parents had left, and her brother walked away, she had grown up fast, but he got the sense that she had always acted older than she was. He thought about a five-year-old Bones sitting at her kitchen table, squinting at a math problem meant for someone twice her age, and chuckled.

Brennan looked up from her work when she heard the sound of Booth's laugh. She found that she enjoyed hearing the sound of his laugh, and turned around to face him with a questioning gaze.

"Is something humorous, Booth?" She asked him, wanting to be in on the joke. He just shook his head no, so she turned back to her work. Suddenly, she found that she was distracted by a loud bell and constant, louder than average chatter. Adolescents came rushing from every exit, some alone, some in clusters, almost all were on a phone, or had earphones plugged into their ears. Brennan looked up to Booth.

"The remains will need to be-"

"Shipped to the Jeffersonian," Booth interrupted. He smiled his contagious smile, causing her to smile back, and she found herself wishing that they were alone. Brennan shook away the thoughts that were, of course, completely unprofessional. She stripped off her gloves, and took the elastic band out of her hair, allowing it to fall back into place just below her shoulders. They turned just in time to see a cluster of boys all clad in shorts and T-Shirts rush onto the field.

From where she stood Brennan could see the boys immediately start running around the small patch of grass that stood between the school and the crime scene. Not only were they increasing their risk of injury by not stretching beforehand, but both she and Booth had been informed that none of the children attending the school should come into visual contact with the body.

Booth found himself being approached by a man that was at least a half a head shorter that himself, who had a large midsection, beady little eyes, and a balding spot on the center of his head.

"You're on my practice field," the man snapped, without bothering with an introduction. He wasn't much for introductions, and he certainly wasn't going to waste the time now. He only had a week to whip these worthless brats into shape. He knew it was going to be hard. They were all destined to be failures. He watched the look the man and the woman shared, both sets of eyebrows raised. He hated them both already; they were just too happy. They stood close enough that their shoulders touched, and the woman's right hand rested on her slightly-bulging stomach, and he wanted to vomit. Babies were awful.

"You're on my crime scene," countered Booth. Brennan watched the man as he leaned passed Booth to get a good look at the fiasco. She noted that his eyes went wide, no doubt on account of shock, and he stopped breathing for a couple seconds. Brennan watched as the man gagged, then threw up, right in front of them. She smelled its smell, and then knew what was to come. She bent over, and threw up herself.

Brennan had wanted children for some time, and though she knew that this was a side effect of pregnancy, she was quite happy that after her fourteenth week it began to subside. She felt Booth lean over beside her, and pull her hair back from her face, while rubbing her back. He continued this until she was done, and though it did nothing to actually make the feeling of sickness vanish, it was soothing and she was thankful to have him.

When Brennan's sickness subsided, Booth let go of her hair and helped her to stand upright again. She wiped her mouth on the edge of her sleeve and looked up to see most of the boys and other agents had been staring. When she looked at them, their gazes dropped to the ground, or they continued on with whatever they had been doing.

Booth pulled Bones away from the vomit and toward his car. As they left he heard Bones say something to the man about the boys not stretching. Booth took her hand and laced her fingers through his own.

"Booth, this is very unprofessional," Bones told him with a voice filled with uncertainty. Booth was just glad that she didn't object. He helped her into the passenger side of the car, and drove in the direction of the Royal Diner, where they could wait for the remains of the young girl to arrive the Jeffersonian.