6

Angela was still wrapped in the warm fleece throw on the big leather couch a multitude of hours later. Booth and Brennan had both come home, so had the boys, both of which were playing on the floor in front of her. She watched them with sad eyes. They were both still so young and innocent. Parker looked older than he had before, looking more like Booth every day. He had the same deep eyes and charming smile. His shorter hair was gelled in the same spiky fashion that his father still wore. He even had that smooth, charming way about him, the instinct of what a woman would really want. Something he did not even know he would need for several more years.

The thought made Angela smile as she watched him flipping through the channels, a bored look settling on his features. He was going to break hearts one day, a thought she found amusing. That was the real allure of the Booth men, she could even see the same thing happening for little Michael someday. She laughed aloud again, her mind trailing to something she had told Brennan once, something about Booth oozing sexual tension. It was truly unfair that she got to have that every night. Angela's thoughts darkened then, leaving the children behind all together, focusing in on their father. She would put money down that he was a strong lover, he would have to be to sate Brennan. The woman was very clinical about some things, but Angela knew she had a strong sexual appetite.

Suddenly it dawned on her, like a ton of brick, she was a hop skip and a jump away from fantasizing about her best friends husband. That was not something she wanted to admit to, ever. She loved the Booth family, they were all she had now. They were her family, and yet she found her self-gravitating towards Booth in a way she never had before. It was a coping technique. Brennan would have shut that part of herself off, placing it into a box that was not to be disturbed. Angela however, wanted a good romp, she wanted to feel something just as intense as the pain in her heart.

Not that she would ever do that, not with her best friend's husband. That was what Booth had become, off limits by all the codes of girl law, but he was the only male of legal age that she had seen in days and he was so great to her, taking care of her. He was so sweet, perhaps more so than Brennan. He always knew what to say and how to say it. Not only would his children pick up good looks from their father, but he was breeding the last of the genuine "good guys" left in the world.

Frustrated and depressed, she threw the blanket off of herself and stood up. She needed to pull what little sanity she had left in her, and get away from everyone for just a bit. She needed to remover herself from the situation for a moment, get some fresh air. Her eyes flitted to the clock on the cable box, just after eight-thirty. Her gaze then traveled around, locating Brennan in the kitchen, wiping down the counter and talking quietly to Booth. She felt another wave of lust and knew she had to get out. Clearly her normal coping mechanism would not work here, clearly she needed another outlet.

"Brennan?" She said, taking a step in the couple's direction, running her hands through her matted hair. When had she last showered? Come to think of it, when had she last gotten up from the couch. She looked back, seeing the imprint of her body still in the leather. It was as if standing had cleared her foggy mind a bit, made her feel a little like a person. A person in need of a shower and fresh clothes.

"Are you alright, Angela?" Brennan's voice pulled her attentions back to the kitchen, back to the couple staring at her with worry in their eyes.

" Think I need a shower." She said, still not really following the thoughts flowing through her head. There was not fluidity to them, they popped in and out randomly, making her feel crazy.

"You are welcome to use the Jacuzzi, it might make you feel better." Her friend said, the look on her face one of undiluted worry.

"I think I would like that." That hallow quality in her voice was back, or had it never left in the first place? She could not remember what she was supposed to sound like.

Brennan was at her side, wordlessly ushering her up the stairs, stopping only to shoot her husband a look. Angela had no idea what was going on, however the look on his face told her he had understood completely. It did not matter anyway, She was making her way towards that giant floating staircase that led to the upper level of the house. Brennan was guiding her, one hand gently resting on her shoulders, and in that instant she was glad that she was not alone. The emotional roller coaster she had been riding was about to tank again, and this time it would help to have her best friend around to pick her back up.

She was silent and trembling slightly as she made her way through the dark master bedroom into the large attached bathroom. Brennan flicked on the lights, illuminating cream walls and black tile flooring. It was classic and comforting with a touch of old Hollywood class, a surprising contrast with her personality. In the center of the room sat a large white tub with a waterfall faucet. Brennan left her to stand there while she made her way over to the tub, turning in the square of steamy water and stopping the drain. She picked up a purple bottle from the edge of the tub and poured it into the stream, the scent of lilacs and honey took over the room, steam thickening the air. It started to appear foggy, mirroring the images in Angela's mind as she watched her friend move around, pulling out a plush yellow towel from under the sink.

Brennan set several bottles on the side of the tube and a fresh lofah out for her before she turned to make her exit, allowing Angela some privacy. She watched her friend turn to make her way out, to exit her in her time of need, and a lump formed in her throat. She needed company, perhaps a bath had not been the best Idea, and perhaps she should have asked for something to eat instead, something that would have lead to a socially acceptable situation for company.

"Brennan, please, I don't want to be alone. I need your shoulder." She whispered, stopping her in her tracks. Tears were pooling in her eyes, tears that had yet to come, being locked away in the coldness she had wrapped around herself. Death's cool arms held her tightly, whispering tragedy in her ear and clouding the confines of her mind. It was the last thing that Angela could deal with alone.

"I'll be right back, I'm just going to get you a drink. Go ahead and get in the tub alright?" Brennan's eyes met the cool irises behind Angela's hooded eyes. She smiled reassuringly, letting her know that everything would be alright eventually.

"Ok." The woman nodded and turned toward the tub, watching the water swirl in bubbles. She heard the door shut before pulling the shirt over her head and cringing. How long had she been in those clothes? Stripping them away, felt like with each article her defenses went away with it. If she had thought numbness was bad, she had a feeling that the onset of her downward spiral would be worse.

The scalding water burned her skin, leaving it red as she sank into the bubbles. They floated up around her, coming to cover her all the way up to her collar bones, the light scent wrapped it's warming arms around her, comforting her like a small child after a vicious nightmare. It was helpful, sort of holding her together in a way she did not understand just yet.

The silence in her mind was nice for a change. It made her focus a little easier, pin pointing the most acute source of her pain. Time held not meaning as she waited for her friend to show up, she just sat there, counting bubbles, letting her mind revert back to that of a child. Allowing her the innocence Michael had, erasing the past and making it anew. Wonder still filled her eyes, as she watched the swirls in the water.

That was how Brennan found her a few moments later, living in her fantasy world of childlike wonderment. The creak of the door snapped her head up, her eyes facing Brennan and the twp large glasses of blood red wine in her hands. She handed on off the Angela, taking a seat on the side of the tub, facing the her.

"Would you like to talk?" She asked, taking a pull of liquid from her large glass.

"I just don't want to feel alone." Angela held her own glass shakily to her lips.

" You aren't , Angela. We are here for you." Brennan said, her own face contorting for the pain of her friend.

" I know." She looked at the wine in her glass, steam from the water fogged it, warming her hands.

" I spoke with Cam. I am going into tomorrow to look at the body." Angela flinched at Brennan's cool and detached comments. She was trivializing her father, making him nothing more than a body on a steel table. The thought angered her despite the fact that she knew it was Brennan's way of coping. It was what made her the best in her field, and that what she had wanted wasn't it? She wanted the best.

" I'm sorry, that was disrespectful. I do not know what to say here, usually I would just ask you. I am very sorry, and I want to help you through this very much." Brennan said, taking another sip of her own glass.

" I know, Sweetie. It's just... hard. It's harder than anything else. This is not something I can get away from." Angela's voice was soft, distant, her eyes held a sadness that Brennan had never seen there before. It scared her, not being able to comfort the grieving woman in front of her. In an instant she wished Booth were here, whispering in her ear like her own personal Cyrano, telling her what to say and how to offer her comfort. The worst part of this whole thing was that now, Brennan was on her own.

" She looked so empty inside." Brennan said, pulling the heavy quilt higher over her body. There was a chill deep inside her, one that she could not shake ever since her conversation with Angela earlier. The emptiness in her voice, her blank stare, it haunted Brennan, made her feel desperate and inadequate.

" She's dealing with a lot at once, Bones. You remember when we found your mother. Same rules apply, here. When it comes to parents all bets are off." Booth responded, sitting on the side of the bed, his eyes seeking out his wife's.

" I was never like that, just don't know how to help her."

"You are helping her the only way you can. Angela knows that, and she is appreciative." He said reaching out to steady her shaky hands.

" I had no idea what to say to her earlier, Booth. You would have said the right thing, known what to do. You have the compassion that I lack, the compassion that she needs." She said increasing the pressure on their linked hands.

"You are compassionate Bones, other wise we would not even be having this conversation."

" Are you still upset with me?" He words took him by surprise. He had not expected her to bring that up tonight, not after her clearly emotional ordeal with Angela.

" No, I understand." He said, scooting back and reaching out for her. She was still buried under the large quilt, the only thing visible were her eyes and the hand linked to his. "Where are you under all that blanket." He laughed.

"It's cold in here." The quilt inched a little further down revealing her hair splayed out on the pillow and her perfect face. Booth looked into her eyes, one of those longing gazes that they had perfected over their partnership. There had been a time, not that long ago when those gazes were all he had, just a look across a desk. He loved when her smile lit up her eyes, the same way it did when she looked up at him.

"You are right, you know." he said leaning out beside her, pressing his body into hers through the covers.

"I told you it was cold in here. Should we turn up the heat?" Booth's laughter caught her off guard.

" Not about the temperature in here, Bones. I mean you were right about me asking you to come back. I would have pressed it a lot if I had know how easy it would be. Working with Perotta, it's not like being with you. I never thought I would say this, but I miss the fights." He said, trying to tell her something that had no words.

" I know. You ever get the feeling like something is missing from our lives these days?" She said suddenly serious, her eyes meeting his.

"We have more than two people have the right to ask for." He said, though part of him knew what she meant. He agreed with her, not wanting to bring the issues to the surface.

"Do you think our marriage is getting stale?" She asked, her mind rejecting the words, her throat closing up.

" Jesus no!" He nearly shouted, recoiling as if she had smacked it. " Don't even say that."

"It is not unlikely that at some point we will become to comfortable and-"

" Shhh. That is not the problem, Okay? Our marriage is fine and I am incredibly happy, aren't you?" He asked putting a finger to her mouth, silencing the blasphemy that was about to pass her beautiful lips, lips that he saw in his dirtiest daydreams on a daily basis.

" Yes." She said simply, offering no other alternatives.

"Then there is nothing to worry about." He smiled wickedly, leaning it to kiss the same spot his finger had just been. She responded with careful pressure, running her tongue along his bottom lip, coaxing it to open, to a lot for her mouth on his. She tasted like wine and cinnamon, her breath coming in short gasps, her hands tangling in his hair. In that moment, when the fire was raging inside them, there way nothing missing. In fact there was way too much.

Booth broke the kiss so he could pull the quilt from her satin clad body. She had taken to wearing silky nighties to bed as of late, another fact that often crept up into his daydreams. He would sit at his desk ,while Perotta rambled on and on, thinking about touching her, about her responses to him. He thought about the sounds that she made when he nipped at her ear, or the whimper she made when he ran his burning tongue down her cool throat and over her breast, across her flat stomach and down. He could hear the way she called him name out as he pushed into the very core of her. It was not uncommon, especially as of late, that he would need to excuse himself from the room while he go his libido in check.

Of course here, in the sanctity of their bedroom, he could do those things. He loved the way her scent would linger on him long after they had basked in the afterglow of lovemaking. Everything about her invited him in, made him feel more like a man. She made him whole in so many ways, that the idea of something in their marriage missing was just unfathomable. Yet in the back of his mind, yelled a tiny voice. One that reminded him there was something he needed, something he refused to let surface, frightened of what that might be.