So here it is, my latest Multi-Chap fic. I've been working on it in 'secret' now for what feels like months and it's finally ready. Well, as ready as it's gonna get because I can't not post it any longer! I'm leaving for Chicago tomorrow so I'm posting a day early because I've decided to follow Lacey aka Niah's example in the posting once a week thing. And Thursday works best for me, except this week. So I obviously won't be giving you any hints as to what's about to happen, but I wanted to tell you about the Title, it's from a well-known Lullaby which I think speaks volumes as to what this fic will be about, if you like to over analyze things the way I do. And it seems extreamly creepy if you imagine it being ominously sung by a boy's choir while you sneak around in a scary dark house. Enjoy!

HUGE HUGE thanks to my awesome Beta: Niah1988. Luv you!

Rock-a-bye baby
In the treetop
When the wind blows
The cradle will rock
When the bough breaks
the cradle will fall
and down will come baby
cradle and all

Royal Diner
Washington D. C.
September 17th

The diner was busy for a Thursday night but it didn't really bother them at all. The partners, who frequented this diner so often they'd almost become as much a part of the atmosphere as the early 1950's decoration, didn't notice the dull roar of a busy dinner hour. Per their routine, they'd stopped for a bite to eat after closing their latest case, talking and bickering in turn over a plate of French fries Booth had conceded to sharing, until they were interrupted by mechanical chirp from the breast pocket of his jacket.

Brennan did not pause in her impromptu discourse on Ritual African Healing Dances as he listened to his voice mail message until the playful grin he wore as he brushed off her 'squint talk' faded into something more reminiscent of a frown. She stopped and watched him as the recording finished, wondering what would make him look so troubled all of a sudden.

"Everything okay?"

Booth nodded as he shut his phone, slipping it back into his pocket. "Yeah, just a voice mail from my dad, he must've called while we were interrogating Thompson."

Brennan raised her eyebrows while drizzling dressing over her salad, "Your father? That's unusual."

"I know, he didn't say what it was about," he shrugged, the frown dissolving into a grin once more, "maybe he wants to know why you still haven't figured out how to apprehend a suspect without shooting him."

"Well I wouldn't have had to shoot him if you hadn't let him get away," Brennan chided, smiling as she helped herself to a portion of the fries. Booth practically gagged on his Pepsi.

"I let the guy go? You're the one who distracted me with all your talk of unconventional sex practices."

"Why I-," her eyes were wide in that expression of righteous indignation he loved, "It was pertinent to the investigation. It's not my fault your outdated Christian sense of morality makes you immobile at the very mention of sexual interaction."

Booth rolled his eyes and sat back from the table, wiping his face with a napkin. "Now Bones, don't go and ruin a perfectly good conversation with an attack on my religion."

Brennan sighed and bit back a no-doubt snappy retort and shrugged, looking down at her salad.

Ziggy's Bar and Pool Hall
Philadelphia, PA
September 17th

Their group was an intimidating one to say the least, while they'd left the rifles in the car, combat boots, S.W.A.T emblazoned in yellow on their green shirts and a tell tale black holster on their hips made anyone who might want to pick a fight, think twice.

They hadn't slept in eighteen hours, twelve of which had been spent in a standoff at a bank with a group of guys armed with enough artillery to fuel a small nuclear power plant. And despite this, the seven members of the Philadelphia Special Weapons and Tactics team could be found joking over drinks into the early morning hours at Ziggy's Bar and Pool Hall.

"Look, if Tucker hadn't been staring down that scope, eyes peeled like he does, your ass would be in a sling," TJ called out before slamming back the rest of her straight shot of scotch. Her voice was gravely from cigarettes and fatigue and she sat with one booted foot propped up on the stool beside her.

"In a sling? Hell he'd be lucky if his ass wasn't Swiss Cheese with the way they were firing rounds," Hutchinson said pointing across the table at his companion with his beer bottle. The other man just smiled and shook his head, leaning back lazily in his own seat, feet still clad in black combat boots resting easy on the table.

"Get the fuck outta here, I was fine. All the kid did was buy me some time to get another clear shot on my targets." He shook his head and ordered another beer.

Royal Diner
Washington D.C.
September 17th

Booth was silent as she played with her food, staring at her long enough and hard enough to finally unnerve her.

"What?"

He gave her a crooked grin and sat forward, leaning his folded arms on the table.

"Bones?"

She raised her eyebrows in response as she took a sip of her iced tea.

"I've been wondering…was kissing me really like kissing Russ?" he asked, with bluntness one thought only Brennan herself had mastered.

She swallowed and blinked a few times at the table before looking up at him, a narrow eyed smirk on her face.

"You've been wondering, huh?"

Booth shrugged. "Call it male ego."

"I do."

He sighed, coaxing her with his eyes. "C'mon Bones. Really? Your brother?"

It was Brennan who sighed then, and took several moments to study the floor and collect her thoughts. There were so many different feelings conjured up by memories of that day in her office. Some good, some bad, but most of them scary and truth be told she preferred not to think about that day at all, it was certainly less distracting that way. Not that she was going to admit any of that to her 'hyper macho, sexual ego the size of a blimp' partner.

Pursing her lips, she dipped her head in a miniscule nod of admission, "No. I've only kissed Russ a few times, and only on the cheek. But if I were to objectively compare the kiss we shared to those I have previously experienced…I can honestly say it was…unlike any other I've had. You far surpassed my expectations," she finished clinically.

Booth cleared his throat and reached for his water. "A simple 'no' would've sufficed."

She looked up to see his face from his chin to his ears to where his forehead disappeared below his hair was all fire engine red. And while on the outside he was focusing on resembling something close to nonchalance, on the inside he was still reeling from the fact that she'd had expectations coming into the kiss. And he found himself wondering if it stemmed merely from the deal Caroline had put forth, or if she'd been contemplating the idea for as long as he had, namely, forever.

Feeling her laughing gaze on his skin, he busied himself with extracting his wallet from his back pocket and slapped a few bills on the table.

"It's my turn," he muttered, silencing her protest before it began.

He stood, pulling out the knot in his tie and flinging his jacket over his shoulder, tired after a full fourteen-hour day of work, but somehow still not quite ready to head home to an empty apartment.

"Let's go for a walk."

A Residence
Pittsburgh, PA
September 17th

The house hadn't been in this state of disarray since the boys were in diapers. Susan was strong-willed that way. She refused to be the mousy housewife always shown on TV, she liked to take charge. Their house ran like a well-oiled machine for twenty years until both boys moved out, joined the Army and got their own lives. After that, there was really no mess to be cleaned, but Susan kept it spotless anyway. Now James looked around and felt a little pang of guilt, if his wife had the energy, she'd rip him a new one for letting the house get this way. Dishes in the sink, clothes overflowing from the hamper, the furniture and picture frames hadn't seen the touch of a duster in what seemed like years.

He ran a large hand through his thinning dark hair and turned toward the telephone. That was why he'd come down here, he now remembered. She'd begun asking for them and, while he resented the implication that he needed help running his own house, it was probably true. At least for the moment. But, being the understanding woman she was, Susan never said anything about his ineptitude in the cleaning department; she instead insisted it was for her own benefit that their boys come home for a while. And James had never really been able to deny his wife anything she asked for.

So, he picked up the phone and dialed the number.

Royal Diner
Washington D.C.
September 17th

Brennan gave him an appraising stare for a few moments, complete with a raised eyebrow, before it softened into a smile. She stood, brushing past his outstretched hand with a roll of her eyes, mumbling something about 'perfectly capable' and 'act so archaic' so that all he could do was laugh.

He followed her out of the diner and slung his arm casually over her shoulder, silently daring her to protest. But she didn't, and if she minded, she didn't say so. It occurred to him around the corner and halfway down the street that he hadn't gone on an evening walk in years, maybe even since he'd been with Rebecca.

"Really?" Brennan asked, when he shared that with her. "I don't think I ever have."

She tensed slightly at the appalled look on his face and tried to shrug off his arm, despite the warmth his body was providing her against the unusually cool evening air in late August. But Booth was having none of that and he only held onto her tighter.

"How is it, Bones," he continued, effectively ignoring her escape attempt, "that none of the wide assortment of men you've dated never took you to do one of the most simple, romantic, 'Dating 101' things there is?"

Booth watched carefully out of the corner of his eye as she deliberately avoided turning her face in his direction.

She shrugged. "Well, I didn't go on my first date until I was in college. Dad wouldn't allow it and after that…well, being neither popular nor pretty, I wasn't exactly at the top of anyone's 'must date' list," she explained, smoothly passing over Booth's implication that evening walks were 'romantic' and a basic 'dating' tactic.

Hearing her describe herself as 'not pretty' made his insides twist, but he was careful to keep his face neutral and his arm on her shoulders light, afraid if he moved she would realize how much she was revealing and shut down.

"And when I got to college I was really only interested in sexual gratification, and I made it very clear to anyone who expressed interest. Moonlight walks through the Common weren't really on the agenda."

She finished and they rounded the corner, completing the circuit around the small block they'd been walking. There was a gentle breeze in the air, just enough to make their cheeks and the tips of their ears pink and they unconsciously shrunk closer to each other's warmth.

"I can only imagine Bones," he murmured quietly, smiling at the thought of a young, fiery Brennan scaring the shit out of some poor college co-ed with a blindingly blunt 'let's have sex' speech.

They were silent much of the way back to the SUV, their exhaustion getting the better of them.

"You know Bones," he began quietly, not waiting for her response, "hypothetically speaking, if we had gone to school together…I think you would have been on my 'must date' list." At the top of it, actually.

Brennan stopped, pulled away from his arm and turned to face him. Booth was surprised to find amusement in her eyes where he'd been expecting horror.

"I highly doubt that Booth."

"Why?"

"Because. I was…a science geek and you were one of those guys."

Booth scoffed, turning to continue toward the SUV, Brennan quickly fell into step beside him.

"What's that got to do with anything Bones?"

"It has everything to do with it. The social hierarchy of High School would not have tolerated that kind of violent shift in its organizational structure. It would have been impossible."

Booth shook his head, as she quickened her step, getting a burst of energy from what she perceived to be a won argument. He followed her to her door, but stopped her from opening it and he waited until she turned to him before speaking.

"Well, I'll have you know that sometimes that guy does go for the science genius girl."

Brennan raised an eyebrow and pulled open her door. "Present me with evidence Booth, and then I may be inclined to change my position. Until you do, it's nothing but baseless theories."

She shut her door and turned to the dash, a smile on her face that said she was more than satisfied with her rational, entirely logical argument.

Booth remained outside her window for just a moment more, watching her, before crossing heading around to his own side.

I'll give you evidence…

Ziggy's Bar and Pool Hall
Philadelphia, PA
September 17th

"But, since ol' Tuck here did manage to not shoot anybody on our side today, here's to nobody getting turned into Swiss cheese." The group raised their glasses slowly, suspiciously quirking their brows, "and the next time we've got one of those stupid-ass Efficiency training exercises, I want little Tucker to have my back."

"Jared, everybody knows the only back you've got is your own," TJ scoffed, rolling her eyes as she put her drink back down.

"Yeah, don't you try none of that punk shit," Hutchinson added.

The man grinned and winked at the woman, who would have beat his ass had she been sober enough to recognize it.

More profanity and friendly jibbing were exchanged and went unnoticed by the other seedy characters in the small bar who were busy playing pool on worn-out green felt tables, or smoking and drinking in darkened booths.

"Hey, you guys hear that?" Tucker said. It was the first time he'd spoken all night. No matter how the others tried to distract him, he was new to this job and he'd never taken another man's life before. It would be a long night of drinking for him before he could get to sleep.

TJ rolled her eyes. "You hearing things again, kid?"

"No, no really."

They stopped and after a moment turned to Jared, who was too busy mentally undressing a girl at the other end of the bar to notice.

"Yo, Romeo. Your ass is ringing," Hutchinson called, throwing a balled up napkin in his face.

"Oh," Jared said, reaching into his back pocket he took out his cell phone. "Hello?" The others of his group were laughing and yelling and generally being non-conducive to talking on the phone so he got up and walked outside.

"Dad? Hey, is everything alright?"

FBI Vehicle #2205
Washington D.C.
September 17th

They spent the short ride to her apartment immersed in idle chatter. Booth mentioned that he had Parker that weekend and was planning to take him to a baseball game. Brennan had a phone conference planned with her editor and possibly a visit to see her father and Russ, but only if she found the time.

When he stopped the car, she gathered her things and got out, only to find he had done the same.

As he rounded the car and approached her, a familiar look of two parts determination, one part mischief in his eyes, she grew tense. It was a look she wasn't used to seeing pointed in her direction.

"Booth what are you…"

He didn't give her a chance to finish. He saw her eyes widen to a near painful degree as he stepped inside her personal space, gently took hold of her face, and pressed his lips to hers. It was brief and light, but had the advantage over their first kiss of being private and away from all forms of shrubbery.

He felt his heart pounding under every inch of his skin and had the pleasant, but very strange, feeling of floating as he pulled back. And he had a hunch that, if he made it out of this with his dignity and limbs intact, there was a good chance his partner felt the same.

With a shy smile he stepped back and said in a quiet voice she could just barely hear over the rustle of Autumn leaves, "Enough evidence for you, Bones?"

When she didn't move and didn't change the stunned, surprised expression on her face, he stepped away slowly and returned to his car without looking back. By the time he'd gotten in and turned the ignition, she'd already disappeared inside her building.

"That was either really stupid, or really brilliant," he sighed and rolled his shoulders, pulling out into traffic. "I guess we'll see."

With the firm resolve not to analyze his relationship with his partner any more that night, a resolve he was almost certain to break, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a familiar number.

"Hey Dad, sorry to call so late, but I got your message. What's going on?"

A Residence
Pittsburgh, PA
September 17th

The unearthly light of dusk, gray with hints of pink and orange of the setting sun, filtered in through broad windows on the West wall. He couldn't be sure how long he'd been standing there, in the doorway, watching shadows lengthen across her sleeping face, but he was sure it had been for a while. Today hadn't been one of the better days. She'd had a lot of pain and slept for hours on end. Days like these worried him, because a small, dark, terrified part of him was sure they would be her last. And if he lost her, it would be worse than losing a piece of himself. It would be a massive hole in his whole world that would lead straight through his heart, the type of wound that he might never recover from until the day he was allowed to follow her to heaven. And he wasn't ready.

She stirred and reminded him why he was there. With a quiet sigh, because he hated why he was there, he entered the room and softly bid her to sit up straight. When she did, he handed her the water and a handful of pills, which she took without complaint. Then she looked up at him, eyes warm and blue with as much love as they'd had almost forty years ago on their first date. He took her hand and sat down beside her. When he kissed her forehead she let her eyes drift shut and he watched the sun drop down below the horizon.