Disclaimer: See part 1

Note: This was going to be a two-parter but then Angela had to have her say. So there will be a third (and final) part.

(2)

"It's the worst part of the whole antiquated ritual, in my opinion," she says brusquely. "The father hands his daughter over to the groom like she can't ever stand for herself. I don't want that. But I understand the symbol. One family to another."

"Did you explain it Booth like that?" Angela asks, putting her sandwich down with delicate fingers. (They're at the diner because it's safe. Like the lab. Safe because Booth is avoiding Brennan and she's refusing to be avoided by keeping to their usual patterns, putting herself in the places he should be. This, in turn, is her own way of avoiding him. By being predictable she's giving him a wide berth. He knows exactly where she'll be.)

"Yes!" Brennan insists with frustration. (She knows she's asked him to do something unsavory and she's apologized for putting him in the role of latent misogynist. Guilt is the right emotion but the wrong reasons are behind it. She's always had trouble getting emotions right.)

"And he said 'no'?" Angela asks. (Usually she's a great predictor of behavior but if she'd been asked before hand, she would have said the greater danger in the question was that Booth would say 'yes'. He'd do anything for her. Die for her. Give her away.)

"No," Brennan says, frustration cooled by confusion. "I explained to him that you guys have been my family more than my biological family ever has. I thought perhaps he was concerned he'd be usurping my father's role …. But he said I should ask you. I told him you're the Maid of Honor already."

"Me?" Angela asks with surprise she doesn't feel. (The wedding paints itself in her mind and she's there gliding down the aisle in time with the music, Brennan on her arm, smiling. The guests are smiling. It's quirky and fun. The beginning of something that will never be traditional. But a little paint thinner and a few brush strokes and it's Booth's face painted over hers. The whole mood changes. It's the end of something tragic.)

"But I want it to be him," Brennan plows on. "You understand, Angela?"

Angela nods. (She understands. Better than Brennan does. The Jeffersonian is home and Booth is the man she comes home to. He is the one who never has to ask about her darkest secrets because she's already told them to him. He's the one who invites her up for coffee and sits by her patiently to drink it because she's never understood that an invitation up for coffee is an excuse to make love. He's the only person she's ever really given herself to so he's the only person who can give her away.) "So ask him again."