Hey all! Sorry this hasn't been updated in forever, but other things had to start taking priority in October — plus, real "Bones" has been just so fantastic that it's hard to stick in my canon Here's the next installment, finally getting to Brennan's POV. The title (fittingly, I think) comes from "The Scientist" by Coldplay. Please read and review.

Temperance did not get overwhelmed, but if she did, this week would have to qualify as overwhelming. Beyond her own regular administrative, research, lecture, and teaching schedules, the winter fundraising season was starting with this exhibit opening (why fundraising had a season she didn't understand) and she had several meetings with the development team and the other Jeffersonian Institute directors; the biggest exhibit she had overseen yet was opening this weekend and it was required of her to make a speech; Angela had an exhibit opening the next weekend; her editor needed a final draft of her novel; her brother had called, announcing that he, Amy, and the girls would be up for the girls' fall break; Parker had three games that Booth wanted her to be at that week. And now, of course, Rebecca had cancer.

She didn't know too much about cancer; medicine was not her area of expertise. But the type of tumors that Rebecca was describing, in layman's terms, sounded quite severe, and she was very curious to see what the survival rate was. She could not, of course, tell Booth those things, because he loved Parker with absolute ferociousness, and that meant he loved Rebecca as well, simply because of what she meant to Parker.

But her respect for Booth didn't mean she appreciated having to lie to Parker about whether or not something was wrong. Her relationship with Parker was far more tenuous than his relationship with either of his biological parents and things like lying could damage it very easily. She did not like being put in that position, and she did not like that Booth and Rebecca felt it necessary — especially when, in all likelihood, the rest of Rebecca's life could be measured in months. Parker could become very angry with her.

"Hey," Booth said, walking into the living room, where she was working on editing the latest manuscript. The TV was turned low, and some cartoon Parker had been watching flickered across the screen — round children in ski parkas. Booth held a mug of tea in his hands.

"Hey," she replied, turning down the Snow Patrol humming on her iTunes. It was getting fairly late. Parker had finished his homework and she'd already read to and rocked Sophia before coming back downstairs, where she'd found Parker completely passed out. His laptop had been partially open and had slid between his body and sofa — she'd assumed he was online IMing his friends.

"How's it going?"

She looked over the pile of documents that she had already looked at — an article she was peer-reviewing, a finalized seating arrangement for Saturday, fundraising campaign projections, proposals for two upcoming exhibits, a memo outlining the expected Congressional funding the museum could receive for the next fiscal year, her next-semester syllabus to submit to the head of the Anthropology Department at Georgetown. She hated spending the entire evening working, but it was necessary this week. And there was, of course, the novel. She was making absolutely no progress on looking over her editors' notes right now.

"Just the book, currently," she said. "I should work on it for at least another hour, though I suppose another alternative would be to get up early to work on it. Parker in bed?" She reached up for the cup of tea, which he handed over willingly.

"Yep. Even convinced him to put on pajamas," Booth said proudly.

"Did you set his alarm for tomorrow?" The last thing they needed was Parker oversleeping.

"Of course," he said, lifting her feet and settling them on his lap. "We're going on a run tomorrow morning, he wants to try to make it all the way to the Washington." He probably would, too. Parker was very persistent and competitive. He was also extremely athletic, and even at almost-12 could probably run the six-mile loop.

"He's suspicious, you know," she said. "He asked me if I would ever lie to him." She bit her lip.

Booth nodded and started kneading her socked feet. She realized he had been expecting something like this. "What did you say?"

"I told him … that sometimes parents lie when they feel it is necessary to protect their children."

"Did you tell him you were lying?"

"I told him he couldn't trust my answer now that he knew that I would lie," she said. "I don't like this, Booth. At all."

"Becca just needs a few days to process," he said. "This is her way, we respect that."

She was going to point out that this was something about Rebecca that irritated her greatly — whenever she needed time to think, she simply gave them extra time with Parker, as if she was being benevolent instead of being detrimental to Parker's relatively stable family structure. What did parents who had stayed together do when one of them got bad news, ship the kids to a hotel for a week? That, however, would irritate Booth, who really looked like he would not appreciate that.

"I realize that," she said. "I just question the wisdom due to how serious her condition most likely is."

"I meant to ask you," he sighed, stopping his ministrations on her feet. "How serious are we talking?"

She shrugged and wiggled her feet to indicate that he should not have stopped. "Assuming they confirm the cancer tomorrow via biopsy, we can't really know until the laparotomy, which is Monday. They'll determine then, based on how far the cancer has spread and the size of the tumor, how serious it is," she sighed, trying to phrase it sensitively, like Booth would. She bit her lip.

"Aw, Bones," he muttered, stroking her cheek and pulling her closer.

"If it is serious, survival rates are relatively low, and fairly unpredictable," she said. "Booth, I really worry about not telling Parker — he needs to get used to it."

"This weekend," he said. "He's not going to miss anything, really." He eyed the manuscript. "You still working on that?"

She grinned. "Not if there's something else that can take priority." She leaned in and kissed him, sliding her hand around his neck.

They kissed for a few minutes, and just as his fingers began to flirt with her hemline, she remembered something that absolutely had to be done that night, or her best friend would kill her. "Damn," she said, pulling back. "We have to fill out Joe's preschool recommendation forms."

"Bones, seriously?" he asked, continuing to stroke her spine, his lips working at her neck.

"Yes. They're due at the schools Friday and if I don't get them to Angela tomorrow she'll be quite upset. And besides, whatever preschool Joe goes to Talia will go to, and we'll probably send Sophia there as well so that she can have a friend already. The kids might not go to the same schools otherwise." She ducked her head to kiss him on the lips.

"Bones, the preschools Angela is talking are twenty thousand dollars." He finally pulled back and rested his forehead on hers.

"So?" she asked blankly, though she had to admit it was odd for her friend to put such stock into finding the 'right' preschool. If it was cost, though — her entire advance for the novel started shortly after Sophia's birth (the one now in its final editing stages) had been turned into a trust for Sophia's education and eventual inheritance. It totaled just over three million dollars, without interest or inflation, and would likely be worth five million by her 25th birthday. "It's a trust for her; we should utilize in the best way possible for her. It's silly to let it just sit there."

"It's a lot."

"If we pay 30,000 per year for tuition through 12th grade, which is a high estimate, we'll barely be paying more than a half-million dollars. Throw in another 300,000 for college and she's still only used a fifth. Would you rather she buy shoes?" Something else occurred to her. "You know, most schools accept students for seventh grade. We should see if Parker wants to switch to Sidwell or a similar school next year."

"Sidwell?" he asked, disbelievingly.

"It's a wonderful school," she reasoned. "I don't want him feeling left out when Sophia likely goes to a private school. And, really, do you want him spending his entire trust on motorcycles and candy?" When she and Booth had moved in together, she'd insisted on setting up a trust for Parker, as well, which was worth approximately as much as Sophia's. "Sidwell would be a pretty good fit for Parker, too — Dr. Worthington was saying how his daughter Grace is going to China for three weeks through a particular program of theirs. It sounded quite interesting."

"Bones, the president's girls go there."

"They do, I think the president's youngest daughter would be in Parker's grade," she said, trying to calculate the age of the girl, whom she had only met once or twice. Yes, she was definitely Parker's age.

He sighed. "Run-of-the-mill G-men don't send their kids there."

"Seeley, you're hardly a run-of-the-mill G-man, and you shouldn't tell yourself that," she said. "You remember? Your place in the hierarchy of this city and government grant you access to these schools for your children."

"Parker and Sophia don't need to go to a snotty, expensive school to know they're smart."

"You want the best for them, I know that. Remember that case with those horrid children who murdered the nanny? You wanted to send Parker to the best schools then," she said. "And these schools are the best. It doesn't make them any more or less intelligent. Or more or less elitist — that would be combated at home, if need be, according to you, which I now accept. But they're good children who have good parents who should go to good schools."

"I'll talk it over with Bec," he finally acquiesced.

"You know, these places have much stronger security as well. Considering some of the things we've seen, it wouldn't be a bad thing for them to go to a school with an elite security force."

"I'll talk it over with Bec," he said again, smiling a little this time.

"I need to finish these forms," she said. "You're a distraction — I'll meet you upstairs in 20."

"Make it 15," he replied, giving her a lingering kiss.

She didn't know when, exactly, she and Booth became this. Their escalating battles for control, where a clear victor always emerged, had turned into a sort of give and take, dependent upon issues and circumstances. Thus, they had married, because she knew the title was important to him, despite the fact that she didn't feel a need to prove 'forever' could exist. And they had both given up their previous jobs, though each would have preferred things to remain the status quo, out of concern for the other and for their family. And she would probably win the private-school argument, because Booth implicitly trusted her with educational matters. They bickered and bantered, they were still exceptionally competitive, they could still talk for hours and never get bored with each other, but it had mellowed, settled into pattern. Part of it was their changes in jobs: the moments she now considered significant became so small, so quotidian, in their relative importance and danger, when compared being kidnapped or assaulted. Moments like those simply could not happen again. Now, life was things like exhibit seating charts, preschool recommendation forms, and honey-the-kids-are-asleep sex.

Brennan knew, objectively, that she was not a natural mother. She loved Sophia, so much it always surprised and scared her, but was only too happy to let the nanny and day care handle her for most of her waking hours. When Booth offered to stay up with Sophia when she was sick or cranky, she only protested out of feelings of equitability, and always caved. Angela was hellbent on repopulating the world — she wanted at least one more child after the twins were born in December — but she could barely consider a second child, even hypothetically. She had no idea why Parker was apparently so partial to her, especially because he didn't particularly care for Brent.

She didn't know what to think of it, a lot of the time. She hadn't believed in happily-ever-after since 15, and really not even before that, though she genuinely looked forward to spending the rest of her life with Booth. And she still missed so, so many aspects of her life from five years ago. She had trouble picturing herself as part of a normal, ordinary family unit. She knew that she wouldn't be able to do this — marriage, Sophia, Parker, even her new job — unless it was with Booth, and the thought scared her a bit. And she constantly wondered whether the interestingness of herself had been replaced, eliminated; supplanted by her daily mundanities. She no longer kicked anyone's ass, or was frog-marched by rebel soldiers, or disappeared on dangerous digs for weeks on end. She did paperwork and cleaned and sometimes got to write a novel.

Still, it was so much fuller than her earlier years.

The next few days were such a flurry of activity that she nearly forgot about Rebecca's illness. She went in to work extra-early on Wednesday so that she could take the after-practice pickup, and then Angela had her, Sophia, and Parker over to the Conner to see what she had completed of her latest exhibition of high-concept digitized art. Angela had quit the Jeffersonian a little over a year ago, shortly after Cam's departure, and now devoted herself to art, Joe, Talia, and the upcoming twins.

"This stuff is really cool," Parker said, staring at a black-and-white silhouette of a naked, pregnant woman that pulsated with red.

"Easy, there, Park-o," Angela said. "What if I said that was your stepmother?"

"Gross," he said, fleeing the painting and going to look at a sexually suggestive electric-blue flower instead. She could see why Angela invited them along on a day that Booth had to work.

"Angela, that silhouette clearly isn't mine," she said. "We share none of the same physiological markers. It's undoubtedly you."

"Yeah, I don't want Park staring at my chest either," Angela said, lightly placing her hand on the burgeoning baby bump. "So what's up? You're acting weird and Parker's with you on a Wednesday."

She checked, to make sure Parker was a sufficient distance. "Well — Rebecca was diagnosed with ovarian cancer yesterday, and wants us to keep Parker until she figures out what she's doing," she shrugged. "I feel Parker needs to be informed; Booth, of course, prefers to abide by her wishes and keep him in the dark until the weekend."

"Go with the hubby on this one, Bren," Angela advised. "This is going to turn into one messy puddle of emotion waaay too quickly already."

"The earlier everyone understands what's happening, the less likely that is to happen," she argued. Angela gave her a dubious look, and then Parker yelled "Mom!" to show her a sculpture that, surprisingly, did not pulsate, move, or display overt sexual overtones. Her heart panged at the word — Parker had been calling her that for a while now, though she noticed he didn't call Brent Dad, and she had accepted the honor. Now, though, considering what was to happen, it made her uneasy.

Of course, on the one night that she was supposed to have for a yoga class, Booth was held up waiting from a task force out of the L.A. office that was moving in on a Mexican turf war concerning drug smuggling. For some unfathomable reason, Parker wanted "breakfast for dinner" and basically nothing else, so she made blueberry pancakes and soy sausages. Parker had minimal homework, so they all took Asta on a walk, and then she put Sophia to bed while Parker watched TV, and she finally convinced him to go to bed early, promising to take him and three friends through the new ocean exhibit the next day to give it a trial run. Booth found her passed out on her office couch, the godforsaken manuscript in her lap still, and he teased her for leaving soy sausages out for him, as if he would eat them. They went into the kitchen, where he sautéed up steak, eggs, and hash browns, and she stole hash browns as he recounted his day.

Thursday morning she locked herself in her office to finish both her manuscript edits and her speech for the gala. Finally finished around noon, she spent the rest of the afternoon in meetings, until Parker and his four best friends (Carter and Mitchell wanted to come, he explained, and he liked Carter better but Mitchell really liked science so he felt bad saying no) showed up for an exclusive tour of the oceans exhibit. After they assured her that yes, it was totally middle-schooler-friendly, she bought them all organic chicken fingers from the Atrium Café, as was customary.

Friday was all meetings, meetings, and a few sneak-peaks of the exhibit, which she was expected to pop in to. She made it home relatively early, though, 7:00 (Booth brought the children and their best Booth-inherited begging faces in to drag her out), and they watched action movies with Parker's friend Tyler, which was good because it meant she could write and get a foot massage, without particularly irritating Booth, as long as she kept the key-clattering to a minimum. She only had two more books remaining on her contract (one of which was already heavily outlined), bringing the Kathy Reichs novels to an even 10, and she was seriously considering not renewing her contract. It made sense; the first novel had been started as a way to fill the hours when she couldn't be in the lab, and they had been successful so she had continued to do them for the income and the way puzzling over a plot could keep her brain going. But she had other things now that were more demanding of her time. Like her daughter.

Of course, then, on Saturday, Sophia woke up with a cold, the dry cleaners had not pressed her dress by noon as requested, and her editor wanted more revisions to the manuscript and suggested they do a brainstorm session/photo shoot in New York later that week. After snippily informing Amelia that it would take three months to get something like that onto her calendar (and thinking again that 10 books would be more than adequate), she hung up, feeling much better about herself, until Parker found out about the cancer and decided it was all her fault.

When Parker dazedly left the kitchen (his pie was only half-eaten, she knew he must be extremely upset), Sophia started shrieking, so Brennan quickly went upstairs to get her. By the time she reentered the kitchen, Booth was gone, presumably after Parker. Rebecca was the only person left. The blonde was sitting at the table, her chin angled down so her hair shadowed her face. Brennan stared at her awkwardly, lips pursed, and finally asked her if she'd like anything to drink.

"Oh. Um, yes. Water. Would be lovely," she finally said.

Brennan tried to set Sophia down, but she immediately started whimpering. She surmised she was likely still running a fever. The babysitter for tonight would not be pleased. "Here, I'll take her," Rebecca volunteered. Sophia was somewhat familiar with Rebecca, so she settled into her arms fairly easily, just happy to have someone warm hold her. "It seems like yesterday that Parker was this age," she murmured. "It's such a good age."

Brennan smiled. "It really is. Watching her cognitively develop is fascinating. Every day there's something new — a new word, something new she can do, something she's learned." She set a glass of filtered ice water in front of Rebecca and a Sippy cup of organic no-sugar-added apple juice in front of Sophia. She grabbed the pie tin and put the lid on it before sliding it in the fridge. "Isn't there, baby girl?" she smiled at her, and started working at the dishes in the sink. She had to do something.

"Thank you," Sophia said, clutching the cup and clumsily taking a sip.

Rebecca laughed. "I don't know how you do it," she said, her voice almost, but not quite, envy-free. "I can't get Parker to say that now, let alone when he was one."

She shook her head. "She has an unusual aptitude for mimicking phrases; I doubt she'll continue to use it when she's Parker's age. And Parker … well, Rebecca, he's just lovely."

Something caught in Rebecca's expression, and she started playing with Sophia's hair again. "Thank you. I … appreciate it. No matter what happens, I know Parker will be loved and taken care of, right?"

"Rebecca," she said, unsure of the appropriate and reassuring wording, "I love Parker, and he means the world to Booth, but you're a huge part of Parker's life. The bond between mother and child is the strongest in nature." She knew that Parker would probably assimilate normally into culture at this point if he were to lose his mother, but she knew also knew now how that could destroy him. Send his life on an unimaginable trajectory. Like Booth's. Like hers.

"Temperance, you of all people should understand that I'm probably facing low odds. I don't want to think that way but it's hard not to wonder."

"Statistics exist because some people beat them," she said. True, but rarely; she had no other adequate response. "There's no reason why you can't, too."

Rebecca looked like she was going to argue, but instead she just bit her lip and sat back.

The Booth boys came back in then, and Parker said, quietly, "I'm ready to go, Mom." Rebecca nodded and hugged him tightly.

"You know I love you, so much, right?" she asked, stroking his cheeks and hair.

He nodded. "I love you too. Will you just please… tell me things? I'll be less scared that way."

"Okay," Rebecca said. "Tell you what, I'll even take you and you can meet my doctor and ask him questions."

"Thank you," Parker said.

"Got all your stuff, bub?" Booth asked lightly.

"Yep, all packed already," he said. "It's all in Mom's car."

"Alright," Booth said, hugging him. "I love you, bub."

"Love you too, Dad," he moved toward Brennan, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Bye, Bones. Love you."

"Love you, too, Parker." He kissed Sophia, who was now resting in her high chair, took his mother's hand, and they disappeared out the front.

"You two have a man-on-man talk?" she asked him, moving to finish the dishes.

"Man-to-man, and yeah. We'll see how the next couple of weeks go." Booth stood behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, and then did that thing where he inhaled her shampoo. She stopped for a while and snuggled her scapulas into his pectorals.

"He's a strong, resilient pre-adolescent, Booth," she said.

"I know," he said. "I just didn't want him to have to go through this kind of thing."

"What exactly were you supposed to do to stop it?" she asked reasonably, and turned to face him, her hands resting gently on his shoulders. "There is nothing in this situation that you, yourself, could have prevented. This was something you couldn't protect Parker from, so don't even try."

He looked at her, slightly taken aback. "You sure you haven't started accepting Sweets' psychobabble?"

She smiled lightly. "No. I just know you, Booth. You simply have a heightened protective nature sharpened through external factors such as your experiences as a sniper, FBI agent, and father. Sweets' psychobabble would tie it into your 'control issues' or 'family history.'" She was pleased that she used two of Sweets' favorite phrases. "And you know I don't believe that."

They studied each other for a moment, his hands on her hips and her fingers trailing the periphery of his face, until Sophia, impatient and irritable, banged her fist on the tray and shrieked, "Momma! Daddy!"

Breaking out of Booth's loose embrace, she picked Sophia up and felt her forehead again. "I'm kind of worried about leaving her with the sitter, truthfully," she said. "She's still running a slight fever." Sophia began rubbing at her right ear, which made Brennan even more worried. "Do you think she has another ear infection?"

Booth lifted Sophia up, inspecting the clearly miserable toddler. "Probably right, Bones. I'll call Dr. Childers and get a scrip — the thing starts at eight and you have to be there at seven, right?"

"Yes, but we're having Cam, Malcolm, Angela, and Hodgins over for drinks at six. And that's when Chelsea is supposed to come over. And Shawna went to her sister's in Virginia Beach so we can't call her. We really shouldn't leave Sophia with Chelsea, though — she's sixteen and Sophia barely knows her."

"Relax, babe," he said. "You still have to get your dress, right?" She nodded, chewing on her lip. "You track that down, pick up my monkey suit while you're at it, go to that salon appointment Angela made for you, and I'll take care of Sophia." She looked at him uncertainly, but just for a second, and then headed off in search of the dress and tux.

Three hours later she returned, tux and dress in hand and hair spun up into a twirly chignon. Sophia and Booth were in front of the couch, Sophia on Booth's chest, watching some sporting contest — football, on closer inspection. Sophia looked noticeably calmer, and Booth was whispering plays to her. "How's she doing?" she asked, dropping the garments on the chair and scrutinizing Sophia.

"Much better, Mom," Booth said, lifting the baby up for inspection. "Dr. Childers said minor ear infection, we picked up some medicine, and she's had a dose and a little ice cream."

"Still, do you think Chelsea will be able to handle her?" she stroked Sophia's flushed face.

"Nope, and that's why I called in backup."

"Backup? Who, Booth, you can't just hire someone without her, we vet people together," she said.

"Re-laaax," he drawled, rubbing his hands up and down her upper arms. "I called up Michelle. Thought it was worth a shot. Turns out she's got a free evening, and could use the night to do some catch-up homework anyways. She'll be here in a half hour. Gave Chelsea the night off."

"Michelle. Perfect," she said. Cam's adopted daughter was now a junior at Georgetown, and Parker and Sophia adored her. They typically had her over for dinner once every two weeks or so — Booth's way of checking up on her for Cam, who had moved to New York to work in the Pathology/Autopsy Department of New York-Presbyterian. Cam now lived with Malcolm, an immunologist, who was sort of a permanent fiancé.

"Right. Seeley Booth here to save the day," he crowed. "You go up and put on the pretty dress, I'll get her fed."

"Have you showered? They'll be here in an hour. I only need to put on the dress and some makeup. You should shower. I'll get the trays together. Really," she said, at his incredulous look.

She and Sophia managed to get the cheese trays and drinks together, and greeted Michelle, whom she was always happy to see. Booth came down at twenty till, when she managed to escape upstairs. Slipping into the snug royal-blue dress, she studied her appearance critically. Her body had largely returned to the proportions she'd had before Sophia, though — much to Booth's poorly disguised delight — her breasts were slightly larger. The gown she'd chosen for the banquet was backless with a boat neck, and had subtle Art Deco accents. A sash around her stomach gave the dress an hourglass shape, and the sash then formed the bottom curves of the back before draping down to the floor. Angela had found it, her fingers flipping wildly through dresses before holding this particular one up. It had been the only dress Brennan tried on.

Holding the shoes she intended on wearing, she went back downstairs at five after. Jack and Angela had already arrived, and were shrieking at the sight of Michelle. Angela, unsurprisingly, was dressed in pink neon and sparkles; Hodgins had a "Fight the Power" button.

"Meesh, honey, grab a drink and tell me everything that's going on in your life," Angela said, swinging an arm around Michelle.

"Ange! She's here to babysit," Brennan said, entering the room. "And see her mother. And she's only 20."

"Why didn't you tell me you got Michelle?" Angela asked accusingly. "Joe and Talia would have gone nuts. Instead, they're stuck with Jessica from next door. Not as cool."

"Sophia's sick — ear infection. We needed someone who Sophia knows," Brennan argued back. "By the way, thank you, Michelle — I just really didn't trust the original sitter."

"No problem," Michelle said gamely. "You know I love the kids. Shouldn't Parker be around?"

The doorbell rang then, and Booth handed Brennan a glass of water as he went to answer it.

"He's with his mother this weekend, actually," Brennan said, nodding.

"Did you … tell him?" Angela asked.

"Yes, this afternoon," Brennan confirmed. At Michelle's patient, confused look, she said, "Rebecca was diagnosed with cancer earlier this week."

"Rebecca has cancer — what — Michelle!" Camille exclaimed, walking in wearing a black satin dress. "I didn't think we'd get a chance to see you with your schedule."

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Malcolm. And I didn't have anything to do tonight, it was just a girls' night, basically, and then Booth called because Sophia's a little sick." Michelle hugged her mother.

"Hey, sweetie," Cam said, hugging Michelle back. "Sophia's sick? Rebecca has cancer?"

"Soph's got a little bit of an ear infection, nothing our girl can't handle," Booth said. "Rebecca, well — she…" he suddenly stopped talking.

"She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer earlier this week," Brennan finished for him. "She's having exploratory surgery Monday."

There were questions about treatment, mostly from Cam, and about Parker, mostly from Angela. The topic dominated the conversation until she had to leave at twenty till; the others would meet at the cocktail hour.

She gave herself a minute to steady her nerves in the car before going inside. She never particularly cared for so much forced social interaction and tonight was going to be ridiculous — at least 20 senators, 70 House members, a few think-tank presidents, four Cabinet secretaries (at last check), three Supreme Court Justices, and the First and Second Ladies, among others. One hundred academics would be in attendance as well, and several dozen major philanthropists. The event would be so many things: a fundraiser, an exhibit opening, a celebration of success, a way to honor the museum's groundbreaking scientists, an opportunity for networking and posturing and kissing cheeks. This was the sort of thing where she needed Booth. He didn't like it either but he could do it. His abilities left her in awe sometimes.

Booth, thank God, arrived before practically anyone else. While she rarely admitted to valuing his people skills in these situations, preferring to prove herself and knowing that she was currently much more confident in these situations than people gave her credit for, this week had left her drained, which made her punchy and jumpy. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, rubbing a thumb pad over her cheekbone and swiping a glass of water from a passing waiter. "You look like a train's coming for you."

She shook her head lightly. She still didn't like talking things out, but she was a little better at admitting something was wrong. "A little off, I guess. Too much epinephrine and cortisol, not enough serotonin. And you know I don't care for these things too much, anyways."

"Right," he said skeptically, putting his hand on her lower back — just above where the fabric started again — and she knew he wouldn't remove it for the rest of the night.

He did, a few times, of course — once to join his old Army buddy, Michael, for a drink; when she gave her speech; a few times to let someone else, like the Chief Justice, dance with her. She got through her speech without any inappropriate laughter and dinner without any major faux pas. At midnight exactly, as they were doing another twirl around the floor, Booth murmured, "Alright, Cinderella. Let's turn back into pumpkins."

"That's not how the story works," she said — she'd read it to Sophia and been slightly horrified at the morale — but she gratefully stepped off the dance floor. Saying goodnight to everyone, they headed out, opting to take Booth's car home. She was silent on the way home, and Booth shot her a few worried glances. She couldn't help it — she was exhausted. So many things that had happened this week reminded her how fragile and even ephemeral everything really was — Rebecca's cancer, of course, but considering finishing her books and the phony fundraiser and even Joe's preschool applications— and it made her feel ephemeral. While she was as secure and self-confident as she'd been as a single, independent woman, there were now so many variables that acted willfully, made her feel ineffective and useless and just not real, sometimes. She wanted to feel real, and alive, and dynamic again.

So when Booth opened her door she grabbed his lapels and kissed him, hard, just to remind herself that he, at least, was still there. He seemed to get it — he always did — and deepened the kiss before pressing her, gently but firmly, against the SUV. As she started to untuck his tux, though, he leaned his forehead gently against her forehead and said, "I've got to take Michelle back to campus, Bones."

Another sign, of how much everything could change. "Right," she whispered.

However, as she was sometimes inclined to do, Michelle had crashed in their guest bedroom, leaving a note on the kitchen table. They headed upstairs, and she focused on touch and taste until she drifted off, firmly grounded in Booth's arms.