From the Non-Existent Journal of Dr. Temperance Brennan

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Brennan's secret life as a reporter for the Associated Press catches up to her & threatens her safety in a way she never anticipated. AU.

A/N: So, after a longer than expected delay, the original flagship series in the myriad world of my Bones fan fic is back with a new update. I have to admit, part of this chapter was inspired by some of the new Season 7 promos. I won't spoil anything for anyone, I'll just say that the Brennan of the promos is pretty much as damn close as I imagine the Booth and Brennan of this storyline being. So, yeah, that was really cool. For those interested, I'm also plugging a couple of things. First, the epic narrative "Buried with the Bones" is almost complete. There's only the epilogue left, which will be posted in the next couple of days. I've also been a bit behind on other stories because I can now report that my second collaboration with dharmamonkey - a sequel to "Costly Signals" - is almost complete. It's turned out to be a beast of a story, and I think it's even longer than "Costly Signals" was, hence the delay. Our plan, tentatively, is to have the first chapter of the new story - which is entitled "Cognitive Dissonance" - posted before the season 7 premiere on November 3rd. So, yeah, keep your eyes open for those and other goodies that are in the pipeline. As for this story, well, hopefully, the delay was worth the wait. So, let me know what you think. Enjoy!~

Chapter 5 – "Biological Urges"

Quote: "No, I mean with anybody. I'm sure Rebecca's not your only option for satisfying your biological urges."

-OPEN WORD DOCUMENT-

Time passed quickly, as it often does, when one is busy and relatively satisfied with how life is proceeding. And, for the most part, with the exception of the fact that I wasn't yet pregnant - despite both Booth and my best efforts to achieve that outcome - our lives were fairly satisfactory. It was only a few days after my last office visit with Macy- the one in which she planted a seed in my mind of something new I might be able to try to increase the chances of conceiving- that I actually realized how much time had passed. Specifically, Chrissy had been enrolled in her preschool for several weeks by that point. And, even though I saw her every morning while we ate breakfast, and I got her ready for the day before I left the lab, I hadn't realized how long she'd actually been enrolled in classes. Even though I spent a fair amount of time with her during the afternoon, after either my dad or Jared picked her up and dropped her off at the apartment on days when Booth and I weren't knee deep in a case, I hadn't realized quite how much time had elapsed since I enrolled her there. Yes, even though I helped tuck her each night after Booth got her ready for bed, I don't think I actually realized just *how* much time had passed. I eventually came to this conclusion only after I received a telephone call on my cell phone one afternoon after Chrissy had been taking classes for a little more than a month.

I won't lie. It was a bit of an awkward situation when I realized who it was that was calling me that morning, as I had answered the call when I was in the middle of working with the Jane Doe from San Diego's remains in the bone room. I wasn't alone when my cell phone rang, as both Angela and Wendall were with me while we were discussing a few particularly perplexing difficulties the reconstruction was presenting in so far as allowing Angela to recover our victim's face. By the time the phone call interrupted our conversation, I had managed to reconstruct approximately 332 pieces of the skull. Using seven different bottles of Elmer's Glue, I'd been able to fit together two ocular cavities, a portion of her lower mandible, and a significant portion of the base of her skull. However, my work still wasn't enough for Angela to get an idea of what the woman had looked like before she was so brutally murdered. Angela said she still needed a particular part of the mandible, and I was having difficulty satisfying her request due to the small size of the remaining fragments from that part of the skull. As I said, we were in the middle of discussing that issue when I took the call, realized who it was, and had to excuse myself to the safe refuge of my office so I could speak freely with Chrissy's principal. I gave both of them an apologetic smile before I high-tailed it out of the bones room, across the lab, and into my office.

After talking to the woman for several minutes, and simultaneously using a portion of that time to calm down when my blood pressure had spiked at the thought something terrible enough had happened to my daughter that they were calling me about an emergency, a new horror washed over me. Yes, at not even three years of age, I finally learned after I finished the telephone call that Chrissy had behaved exceptionally once again. However, in distinguishing herself from both her peers and her family lineage, Chrissy had gained a certain infamy that reaffirmed in my mind that more and more of the traits she'd inherited from Booth were manifesting the older she got.

At the simple age of three, my daughter had apparently become a sufficient enough behavior problem that the school was calling to request a parent-teacher conference. To say that I was embarrassed was to state my reaction quite mildly. Apparently, whatever Chrissy was doing during the day was bad enough that it bypassed the normal procedure of her primary teacher, Miss Jackson, from calling to set up the meeting with me. No, apparently Chrissy's actions were severe enough that they had attracted the need of the school's principal to intervene and involve herself in the situation. After I finished receiving the preliminary details from the principal, and we agreed upon a time to meet together the next day, I hung up the phone and sighed a sigh of exasperation that had only been ever caused by people of one genetic code - specifically those individuals who possessed Booth DNA.

Shaking my head, I then took my phone firmly in my hand, hit the speed dial, and waited for a very familiar tone to greet me over the line.

"Hey, Bones, what's up?" Booth replied. "You finally have something for me on the Jane Doe from San Diego?"

"No," I told my husband, a bit of frustration apparently creeping into my voice enough so that Booth seemed to recognize my tone without the benefit of my additional verbal explanation that I provided anyway. "I'm afraid I was interrupted from a meeting with Wendall and Angela when we'd been meeting to discuss why it's been so difficult for Ange to finish even a partial facial reconstruction when I received a most troublesome phone call."

"What happened now?" Booth asked.

"We're going to need to push back that interrogation on the Young case that we're helping Sully with tomorrow, Booth," I sighed. Stopping, I thought about it and then amended, "Or, perhaps instead of pushing it back, we can bump it up to earlier in the morning. That might work better since it would probably be a good idea to clear our afternoons completely, I think."

"Why?" Booth asked. I heard a shuffle of papers, and I knew he was looking at his calendar which meant I had caught him in the office. "I've got a performance review scheduled with three members of my field detail in the AM, Bones. That's going to be really hard to reschedule."

"Then, we're just going to have to tell Sully he's on his own with the Young interview then," I sighed. "We've got another appointment tomorrow afternoon at 3:30pm."

"Where?" Booth asked. "About what?"

"Georgetown," I told him sullenly. "And, it's about your daughter."

"My daughter?" Booth intoned. A catch of apprehension jumped into his voice as he asked, "Is something wrong with Chrissy?"

"She's fine physically," I told him. "But-"

"Oh, wait, I get it," Booth replied. "She did something again, didn't she?"

"To put it mildly, yes," I said. "Enough so that I was just called by her school principal requesting that I agree to meet with her for a parent/teacher conference as soon as possible."

Booth was silent for a minute, and I could tell he was mentally shuffling through the possible responses to toss out, most likely looking for the one that would piss me off the least. At last he said, "Hey, Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?"

"How comes she's only my daughter when she misbehaves?" he said lightly, a slight teasing creeping into this voice.

If he'd been there in front of me, I think I probably would've smacked him in the head lightly, since he chose that moment to make light of what he knew was a sore spot for me. I knew he did it to try to lighten my mood, but the principal's call had put me in a particularly sour mood. So, as it was, I shook my head and merely said, "While it's true that she didn't request to meet with both of us, I feel it would be a good idea if you were there to support me in this matter, Booth."

"Translation: you want me to keep you from trying to kill Chrissy until after the meeting?" Booth asked, a small chuckle clearly evident in his voice.

"Yes," I finally admitted.

He was quiet for a minute and then said, "Hey, Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?"

"Would you like me to stop on the way home and get some take out so we don't have to cook tonight?"

I smiled slightly at the offer, and again chastised myself for allowing our daughter to affect me in such a way. At his kind offer, I then decided that if Booth had been present, I probably would have kissed him senseless. Nodding even though he couldn't see the change in my body language, my voice softened a bit as I asked, "Thai?"

"With a double order of spring rolls and extra sweet and sour sauce?" Booth asked, even though he already knew my answer.

"I love you," I told him.

"I know," I heard the grin in his voice as Booth responded. "I'll see you later, okay?"

And, after we hung up the phone, and I returned to the bones room with a sheepish look to Angela and Wendall. But, because of Booth, I was able to at least focus enough and compartmentalize the fact that my toddler was driving me nuts. So, in the end, I did actually manage to work productively for a few more hours before going home to be rewarded with my Thai dinner.

Whatever Booth had been expecting when he met Brennan at the Children's Montessori School of Georgetown, it was clear after their meeting with Ms. Jansen, that the reality of the experience differed from any preconceived notions he'd had. Somewhat annoyed at the fact that Brennan seemed to be frustrated that he *hadn't* anticipated such a possible outcome, Booth pursed his lips as he attempted to keep from saying or doing anything that would wake Chrissy up. Their daughter slung over his shoulder, having passed out at some point during the joint appointment with the head of the Montessori school, Booth finally looked at Brennan and said, "I still don't understand why you're mad at *me*."

"I'm not mad at you," Brennan said, as they continued to walked in the direction of they parked his Sequoia and her Prius. "I just don't understand why you're surprised at Ms. Jansen's assessment of Christine's behavior. I told you three weeks ago when you commented on her unusual span of amenable behavior that it was most likely an aberration and to not get used to it."

"Well, so shoot me for thinking you were being just a tad pessimistic there, Bones," Booth sighed. "It's not like you don't tend to be just a bit negative when it comes to Chrissy."

"I know my daughter, Booth," Brennan said. "I suspected her compliance in recent weeks was merely due to her distraction that was caused by her starting classes at the Children's House and being immersed in a new environment."

"Ehhh," Booth said. "Yeah, I still don't know about that. I mean, I get why you think this type of place has an approach that can work with Chrissy's personality, but come on, Bones. How can a toddler be in danger of failing out of a primary level program? Especially *our* kid?"

"She's not in danger of failing out due to a low performance academically, Booth," Brennan frowned.

"Yeah, well, that's what it sounded like," Booth said. "When I was in school, the smart kids never got into trouble. The troublemakers were the ones who weren't smart enough to get away with stuff. But, the smart kids? They never got caught, and if they did, they came up with a way to get out of it."

Making a face, Brennan considered his words for a minute before she responded. "While I would be unable to deny the fact that, if you asked my father what I was like in school, especially if Russ was around, he might say something like I never got into any trouble because I had 'the entire school wired', there is some truth to the adage that the smart kids always get away with breaking the rules because they don't break them – they merely rewrite them so their actions aren't considered inappropriate," Brennan said.

"So, this you're way of telling me you were a Captain Kirk with your Kobiyashi Maru scenario there, Bones? There's no such thing as a 'no-win' situation, right?" Booth said.

"I'm not sure what Star Trek has to do with my youth, but if you're asking did I ever get called to the principal's office, the answer is … yes, I did, one time. But, it was only because I corrected a substitute teacher who was covering my dad's classes one week when he was out with the flu during my freshmen year. The buffoon tried to convince me that the periodic table only had natural elements, and that synthetically created elements were only added on to the display 'for fun'. I found Miss Masters to be a highly inarticulate and infuriatingly obtuse woman," Brennan recalled blithely.

"You actually called your sub that, didn't you?" Booth said, leveling his gaze at his wife with a knowing stare.

"Which part?" Brennan asked, as they arrived at the Sequoia. She reached into the pocket of her husband's suit jacket, took Booth's keys, and unlocked the SUV's back door.

"All of it," Booth said. "You called her everything from 'infuriatingly obtuse' to a buffoon, didn't you, Bones?"

"And, if I did?" Brennan asked innocently.

Narrowing his eyebrows at her in a knowing way, Booth asked, "Did you get detention?"

"No," Brennan said. "It was one day of Silent Lunch. However, since I rarely conversed with my peers during lunchtime, it wasn't that great an inconvenience for me since I just read my book like normal."

"Ya know, Bones," Booth said, shifting Chrissy slightly, as he strapped her into the car seat. Fortunately, like her mother, Chrissy was a deep sleeper when he was tired. She didn't so much as stir as Booth settled her in the car seat. "That could be part of what Ms. Jansen said when she suggested that some of Chrissy's behavior problems might be learned from what she's seeing when she's at home."

"Oh, no," Brennan said, shaking her head fervently. "You're not putting this one on me, Booth. I'm the only one who actually tries to set boundaries with her, and I have to be the bad guy when someone has to discipline her. Now, I know that since the day she started talking, between you and my dad and Parker, everyone's been trying to say that Chrissy mimics me, but there's no logical reason why she should imitate me given the fact that I am her primary disciplinarian—"

"Bones, come on," Booth said in a slightly frustrated tone. "You're really going to try to deny that one?" Brennan stared at him, giving Booth a look. He returned it in spades as he then added, "Do I really need to bring up the blue squint coat, Bones?"

Pointing her finger at him, Brennan retorted with a quick shake of her head, "Yeah, well, what about the stripped socks phase that came after the lab coat? She didn't get that from me."

"It's sorta logical, when you think about it," Booth said, as he secured the SUV's back door, and leaned against it for a minute. "Doesn't anthropological mumbo jumbo always say that female children relate to their mothers in early developmental phases more than any other individual?"

"That's not anthropology, that's psychology, Booth. And, I can't believe that you're trying to quote scientific theory to me on this one," Brennan sighed.

"Bones, Ms Jansen said that Chrissy has taken to bullying the other kids with her vocabulary. No one will play with her during recess, and no one will work at her group table since she makes them cry," Booth said gently.

"I seem to recall that I'm not the one with a nasty habit of bullying people, Booth," Brennan said, clearly defensive, despite her husband's gentle approach. "As a matter of fact, I seem to remember bullying with a badge has always been youerspecialty."

Realizing her agitation required a more physical panacea, Booth reached out and pulled Brennan to him. Booth felt Brennan tense as he said, "Now, cut that out."

"What?"

"Stop being cranky," Booth chided her. "We both know that you're not mad at me, so stop trying to dredge up crap that you can make into some excuse to stew in your own juices about just because you're pissed off about Chrissy."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are, Bones. I may have been a bit caught off guard by Jansen telling us that Chrissy's going to be expelled unless she starts to respond to the plan of starting the, well... what in the hell did she call them? 'Behavior modifications' or whatever the hell it was- but, anyway, I think we both know – even if you don't want to admit it – you've been pissed off since Jansen looked at you and pointed out the fact that if she observes an authority figure acting in one way, Chrissy will keep modeling her own behavior on what she sees," Booth replied.

"I—"

"And, furthermore," Booth said, pulling her rigid body tighter against his. "We both know you're being a bit hypocritical when you say that me bullying people hasn't always turned you on—"

"Now, that's not fair," Brennan said, immediately her head tilting as her face took on a different look. "I was personally insulted, Booth. It was *my* behavior and *my* personality she was talking about so I have every right to be upset. And, you can't just start doing that thing you do by flirting with me using sexual innuendo to distract and diffuse my ire."

"Why? It's a good tactic. It always works, doesn't it?" Booth chuckled. Leaning in for a kiss, he said, "Look. This isn't a big deal. You just need to be a bit more careful about how you act in front of Chrissy for a few weeks and see if that makes any difference. If she doesn't see you using big words to beat up on people like me and Max, then maybe she'll cut it out, too."

"That still doesn't solve the socialization issues," Brennan said. "By your reasoning, she needs to see me interact socially with other people, but since Angela and Payton and the others don't know—"

"Well," Booth said. "You know, I've been thinking about that. Maybe we need to rethink that whole choice, Bones. After all, right now there's really not any good reason to not tell some of them… Angela and Hodgins, Sully and Payton, at the very least."

"If we tell Sweets, and he finds out about the fact that Chrissy's teacher thinks she might benefit from therapy at the age of three, he won't be able to help himself, Booth," Brennan moaned. "And, I'm not putting my daughter in therapy, especially with Sweets."

"Okay," Booth chuckled. "While I agree with you on that one, don't you think you're being just a bit melodramatic, Bones? It's not like Sweets is a child psychologist, even if he is twelve himself."

"Fine," Brennan said. "I'll try to lighten up in front of her with the vocab, and the condescending arrogance, but we still need to figure out what to do to punish her, Booth. She was trying to sneak out of the Children's House. If Ms. Jansen's assistant hadn't noticed what she was doing, I-I… I'm scared. Who knows where she could go, what she might try to do?"

"Well, yeah," Booth said. "I agree about that part. We need to figure out where Tadpole thought she was going and make her understand that she's in trouble for her little great escape attempt. But, the trick is to not make too much of a big deal out of it. If we freak out, she's devious enough she'll file that away for future reference when she wants to get a rise out of us."

"You'd really think she'd do something like that?" Brennan said, leaning into Booth's frame.

"Yeah," Booth said. "I mean, I don't want to beat a dead horse, Bones, but it's not like you don't do that to me all the time."

Frowning, Brennan said, "Yeah, well, that's different."

"Why?"

"Because," Brennan insisted. "I'm me, and you're you, and as such, you deserve it."

Laughing, Booth said, "See? That's what I mean, Bones. You're not setting a very good example—"

This time it was Booth who was cut off as Brennan preceded to stick her tongue down his throat and prove his tactic was still just as effective turned back on him as when Booth employed it against Brennan.

"I'm sorry if I was bitchy," Brennan said, after she pulled away.

"Huh?" Booth asked, still a bit dazed from her kiss. "When?"

"Just now," Brennan said. "I just find the idea that my own behavior is once again having a potentially negative influence on Chrissy to be very disconcerting," she admitted.

"Still a bit of a sore spot?" Booth asked.

Brennan nodded.

"Don't worry, Bones," Booth said, giving her one last brief peck on the lips. "We'll figure something out. We always do, right?"

"Right—if Chrissy doesn't kill us first that is."

I hadn't taken the meeting with Chrissy's teacher well. Being told by an outsider your only biological offspring is arrogant, condescending, and a snob at the simple age of three – most likely because she learned to behave that way by watching me – well, it's a bit much to take. Thus, I wasn't able to find the right moment to tell Booth about my latest doctor's appointment with Macy. I had already started taking the low hormone dosage that Macy prescribed, so my mood was probably a bit overly emotional anyway in the wake of the parent-teacher conference that brought us to her school that afternoon.

By the time we got Chrissy home, Booth had to leave to go pick up Parker, who still was being moody over Booth's refusal to allow him to get a learner's permit. I started cooking dinner, and Hurricane Chrissy, rejuvenated from her afternoon siesta, was hell on wheels as I tried to get the eggplant parmesan into the oven. Suffice to say, by the time everyone had been fed, the table had been cleared, kitchen cleaned, and children put down for bed, I was exhausted. Deciding it was better to wait to talk to him until we were both in an improved mood and better frame of mind, I thought back to what Macy had said just before I left.

Couples who conceived a child and pinpointed the conception to intense… aggressive sexual encounters differed from control groups where aggression was markedly absent from certain conception scenarios.

Hmmm… aggressive sexual encounters. It *had* been a while since Booth and I had had one of those. Maybe, just maybe, the best way to let him in on that piece of news was a demonstration. Hmmm…. Yes, there were possibilities with that one… and, besides, it had been a while since I had had a reason to go to the Hoover. Since my experience at the Academy had soured my opinion on most things related to the FBI, I had avoided the building when I could but for only the most essential work responsibilities - i.e., those usually prompted by Caroline Julian. So, maybe it was time to make a new social call, catch Booth off-guard, and see what type of aggressive sexual encounter I could initiate.

Hmmmmm….

The next day - not that Brennan had come to firmly believe in signs or portents, but, since the situation that had resulted in the 'hallucination' of her mother the year before Chrissy was born, she wasn't necessarily as closed-minded as she once had been - when Booth got called in early to the Hoover for a hastily rescheduled administrative meeting, she wondered if it might be a sign that today was a good day to put Macy's suggestion into action. She further considered the appropriateness of the day when she realized how easy it had been to feed and get Chrissy dressed for preschool. On that particular morning, Chrissy had chosen not to be as difficult as normal. Indeed, she had been downright docile while Brennan got her ready for school, dropped her off, and had a late breakfast with her father at the diner. The cumulative results found Brennan being fairly de-stressed and in a good mood.

The breakfast with Max had gone well, although it had started off a bit awkwardly when Max greeted her with an odd look before giving her a kiss hello. Brennan wondered if some of her attire had tipped Max off to the fact that shew as up to something. However, her father knew better than to ask for details when he complimented her on how pretty she looked in the navy blue skirt suit and ivory-colored satin camisole that she wore underneath it that was edged in Spanish lace. Brennan accepted the compliment and then told her father that she wasn't in any particular hurry to end breakfast quickly since she wasn't going into the lab after they finished eating, but was headed over to the Hoover Building. Max translated that simple statement to insinuate that whatever Brennan had planned, it involved his little girl and Booth, and that he was probably much happier not knowing the details. Brennan had already told Cam that she would be late to the lab that day, as she didn't anticipate arriving until after lunch. Her personal - and pleasurably evil plans for Booth aside - Brennan legitimately needed to stop by the Hoover to go over a deposition with Caroline over expert testimony she was supposed to give the following week in court. And, so, Brennan knew that if she timed things correctly, she would be able to ambush Booth at the Hoover and see if she might stoke the flames of Booth's libido as Macy had suggested.

What Brennan's father hadn't seen was what Brennan was wearing *underneath* her suit. There wasn't anything particularly unique about the underwire bra that pushed her breasts upward so that they accentuated what Brennan knew was one of Booth's favorite physical attributes that she possessed. There also wasn't anything extraordinary about the cream colored thong that she wore in consideration of the tight a-line skirt she wore. What was slightly unusual about her choice in accessories that day was the pair of dark black pantyhose that Brennan wore with an unusually high-heeled pair of black pumps. While her hair was styled in a simple chignon, her make up was definitely more noticeable than normal. She'd spent a fair amount of time lining her eyes in an understated, but smoky eye, and made her lashes pop with a dark, dark black mascara. As Max had noticed, Brennan did look slightly different than was usual, but not startling so - at least, she wouldn't appear too out of the ordinary but to one person. And, that one person, Brennan was quite pleased to learn after she finished her meeting with Caroline, was currently reviewing surveillance video in one of the unoccupied observation rooms. A Cheshire Cat-like grin slowly spreading on her face after she inquired of another agent, and was rewarded with such pleasing information, Brennan knew she had only one chance if she was going to catch Booth off guard and pull off her plan.

The next few minutes were a blur as she made her way to her desired location, confirmed that Booth was indeed by himself, and then steeled herself with as much bravado as possible. She knew she was taking a very big risk, a big chance that she could get both of them caught in a compromising position, but Brennan ultimately proceeded for two reasons. One, there was the larger issue of needing to try to do *something* else to make what progress she could with her desire to become pregnant, sooner rather than later. And, two, Brennan really wanted to demonstrate as much of her gratitude to Booth - for his gentle kindness, infinite patience, and reassuring support - as was possible. So, her resolve hardened, Brennan moved quickly and decisively once she made the choice to commit herself to the plan.

Everything happened fairly quickly. Brennan remembered throwing the door open, Booth's head snapping up at the disturbance, her shutting and locking the door behind her, a look of recognition and then confusion registering on Booth's face when he saw her, Brennan launching herself at where Booth was seated, and then things got sort of… hazy.

For his part, Booth had to admit that he was rarely surprised by anything Brennan did these days, so it wasn't her impromptu appearance at the Hoover that caught him off guard. What did surprise the hell out of him was what she did once she found him - specifically, but in no particular order, her throwing herself at him, tackling him hard enough that her momentum caused his chair to tip over, and they fellow to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Booth shifted for a minute, and rolled over and out of the chair, taking Brennan with him. She ended up on top of him, and he looked up at her with a concern look in her eyes.

"You okay?"

Brennan nodded, but didn't say a word. She shifted so that she slid down his torso and came to recline on her knees between his sprawled open legs while looking down at Booth with a strange glint in her eyes. She then moved her hands had come to his suit jacket, and she was clenching each side of the offensive garment in each fist. Tilting his head, Booth looked at Brennan and said, "So, ummm, are you going to let me up, or what?"

Her eyes narrowing evilly, Brennan shook her head, but still remained quiet.

Then, suddenly, using the leverage she had from where she grasped his jacket, Brennan yanked Booth forward and began to kiss him. Forcing her tongue between his lips, it took Brennan a few seconds to get Booth to respond to something that was almost as natural to him as breathing. Running her tongue along the inside of his lower teeth, she then thrust it deeper into his mouth, searching out his tongue with a ferociousness that made Booth's heart start to pound hard in overdrive. Her goal quickly found, their tongues dueled for a minute or two, until the pair started to get lightheaded from a lack of oxygen. Eventually, the need for air forced them to part. Booth, his face flushed and his chest moving up and down as he gasped for air, looked at his wife. Brennan, eyes darkened to a very deep blue, held his gaze as she struggled to catch her own breath.

At last, Booth smiled at Brennan, and in that moment, she knew that she had him because it was *her* grin that flashed at her.

"So, hello there, Bones," Booth eventually said cheekily.

"Hi, Booth," Brennan said at last.

"Ummm, so," Booth said tentatively. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but you have something you want to tell me… or are you just here to play?"

Narrowing her eyes, Brennan reached up and slowly unclasped the buttons of her jacket. Adroitly shrugging out of it, she then quickly pulled her camisole over her head and tossed it to the side. Booth's eyes were riveted to her chest as he stared at her heaving breasts in abject adoration. In a very sultry voice, Brennan said, "What do you think, Booth?"

"I think you're gonna do something that could result in me getting fired if you do what I think you're gonna to do next, Bones," Booth told her hoarsely.

Brennan seemed to consider his words, and then nodded. "You know what? Yeah, you're probably right, Booth."

Releasing her hold on his jacket, Brennan pushed herself up from her knees, hastily bent to retrieve her camisole and jacket and was shrugging into them as she walked to the opposite side of the room.

"Uh, hey, Bones?" Booth called. When he saw she wasn't stopping, Booth scrambled to his feet. "Hey! Wait a minute, Bones. Where do you think you're going?"

He punctuated his final words as he lightly grabbed her arm. Brennan spun around and looked at him. The look that he had seen in her eyes just a couple of minutes before had already intensified as she cocked her head at him and said, "Now, Booth. You know better than that."

"Better than what?"

"You know I don't like it when you grab my arm like that," Brennan said, her voice thick with desire.

Still uncertain what in the hell Brennan was doing, Booth followed his instinct as he said, "So?" He then added, somewhat cockily, "You say that like it's supposed to mean something to me or what, Bones?"

Quickly, Brennan dropped her jacket and camisole, and twisted her arm from Booth's. He gently, but firmly, held onto it, and Brennan countered by launching herself against Booth. The pair stumbled back until Booth was with his back against the far wall of the observation room. Pressing herself up against him, Brennan leaned in and sought his mouth again. The pair began to kiss once more, and this time, it was Booth who moved his hands to the hem of Brennan's skirt, pushing it up around her waist. Booth pulled away only for a few seconds as he glanced down at the pantyhose when he felt the barrier to what he very much wanted to touch at that current moment. Taking pity on her husband, Brennan shifted so that she could push the pantyhose down her legs. When Booth saw the thong, he cocked an eyebrow at her and said, "What are you trying to do to me, Bones?"

Brennan leaned in as she whispered in-between nibbling on his ear lobe, "I'm trying to provide you with sufficient motivation to have sex with me, Booth."

"Here?" Booth asked incredulously. "Now?"

"I can leave if you want," Brennan said. "But, when I attempted to do that a few minutes ago, your response seemed to indicate that you didn't prefer that particular outcome."

Leaning his neck down, Booth pressed his lips into the crevice formed by Brennan's up-thrust breasts. Alternating between kissing and sucking, he finally managed to mutter, "I'm not quite certain why you started this, Bones, but we're damn well going to finish it. You don't get to just come in here like that, do what you did, and expect to get away with it."

Brennan laughed a throaty chuckle as she said, "Believe me, Booth. Me getting away with it is precisely the *last* thing I wanted to achieve when I initiated this little encounter between us-"

Her husband chose that moment not to respond with words, but with actions. He took the opportunity to thrust slightly into her so that Brennan could feel how aroused he already was by her attentions. Brennan whimpered a bit, as she tugged at his belt buckle and pants. Somehow, someway, they managed to get the pants pushed down and his boxers fell with them. Unencumbered, and now able to maneuver them into a position that they both so desperately wanted, Booth let his hand roam underneath the hem of her skirt again.

"Booth-" she moaned, feeling his hands go up her thighs and to caress the swell of her hips and other more curvy portions of her luscious female anatomy. Brennan heard him groan and immediately knew he had realized what type of panties she was wearing.

"God, Bones-"

"Now," she pleaded. "God, please, Booth. I need-"

He pulled back at her, a glint finally coming into his eyes, and Brennan felt a mental yell of jubilant pleasure echo in her mind, as she recognized the look for what it was - what she hadn't seen in quite some time, and what she had hoped to bait out of Booth in the crazy plan that she had hatched at Macy's suggestion.

"What do you need, Bones?" Booth grunted.

"You," she pleaded, twisting against him slightly, grinding her hips against him in an effort to stave of the point at which he would reduce her to a writhing mass of satiated warmth with his very detailed ministrations. "God," she whispered. "Please, inside me, now."

His timing couldn't have been more perfect as her narration seemed to coincide with her words. In was over fairly quickly after that. A few moments later, her back pressed against the far wall of the interrogation room, her left leg still hooked around Booth's hip, Brennan looked up at him, the madness that had fallen over both of them seeming to retrieve.

Since he had called out her name in a moan that had always been music to Brennan's ears, Booth hadn't said a word until he now uttered the first intelligible string of words that had passed between them in several minutes. "You good?"

Brennan nodded slowly, letting her leg fall down the back of his legs and to the ground. Booth didn't pull away until he was certain she could support her own weight. Looking up at her with a playful grin and his eyes shining full of mirth, Booth shook his head and said with a chuckle, "Damn, Bones. I don't know what in the hell brought that on, but, whatever it was-just, wow."

She smiled at him, and then said, "I know it was risky, but there actually is a method to my madness, Booth."

He glanced at his watch and then said, "We should get dressed. It's only been a few minutes, but it'd be better if we don't take any chances, huh?"

Brennan nodded in agreement. They hastily retrieved various pieces of clothing and quickly pulled them on to make themselves more presentable.

At last, when slightly rumpled, but none the worse for wear, Booth bent and retrieved the chair that was still tipped over to set it in its upright position. He then gestured for Brennan to sit down in the chair next to him as he said, "So, do I want to hear the method to your madness?"

Laughing, Brennan reached over and kissed Booth lightly on the lips. "Probably not."

"Okay," Booth laughed.

Nodding, Brennan said, "Just remind me to give you this journal article when we get home tonight. I think it'll explain it all much more coherently than I might be able to do so at the current minute."

"Sure," Booth replied with a nod. "So-"

Suddenly, the intimacy that had settled between the two was shattered at Booth's phone rang. Reaching for the cell phone from where it vibrated on the table, Booth took one look and then nodded at her as he said, "It's the lab."

"Take it," Brennan advised.

Opening the phone, Booth's brow furrowed in uncertainty. Most of his responses were one word questions and answers that made little sense to Brennan. After a minute or two, he said goodbye and ended the call. Setting the phone down on the table, Booth looked at Brennan and said, "That was Angela. We need to get over to the lab, right now."

"Why?" Brennan asked, stifling the impulse to feel annoyed that Angela had called Booth and not her first. "What is it?"

A stunned look had settled over Booth's face. It took him a minute before he looked up at her, and merely said, "Ummm, Wendall was able to fix that part of the mandible that Angela needed to be able to attempt a reconstruction. She did it this morning, and she thinks she may have a lead on the identity of who the Jane Doe from San Diego is."

Nodding, Brennan didn't see why such news would shock Booth, but she didn't press him as she asked, "Can you give me a ride?"

"Yeah, sure," Booth said, as he stood. Waiting for Brennan to gather her things, he unconsciously guided her to the door with his hand on the small of her back.

The pair didn't say another word until they arrived at the Jeffersonian. Brennan knew there was something Booth wasn't telling her, but she didn't pry since logic meant that she'd find out soon enough. And, find out soon enough was exactly what she did as soon as they walked into the lab, and Angela told them what she thought she had discovered - and, for the first time in Brennan's life, she really wished her best friend wasn't as good a graphic artist as she always turned out to be.

Even as Angela's facial reconstruction stared back at me, the very familiar face smiling back at me from the Angelator, I was too dumbstruck to process the information. Like Booth's earlier reaction when Angela had told him over the phone what she thought she had found, I was just too shocked to comprehend what I was seeing. But, there really couldn't be any mistake as to the identity of the woman whose familiar face was staring back at me. The Jane Doe from San Diego, the woman who had been so viciously murdered, her skeleton smashed into a thousand pieces and then dumped in a concrete foundation to never be discovered again, was a woman who I hadn't seen in years. But, I knew her very, very well, because in a way, without my fear of losing Booth to her, I never would have gone to Afghanistan as Andi Anderson several years earlier. I never would've gotten myself embedded in Booth's unit, finally allowed myself to admit my feelings for him, or embark on a sexual relationship with him. I never would've continued that relationship once we both returned to DC, and I never would've gotten pregnant with Chrissy, which ultimately led to the formation of our current family unit.

Yes, this woman had played a pivotal role in the conception of my daughter, my subsequent marriage to Booth, and the creation of our family, even though I hadn't seen her since that July night when I had marched into Booth's apartment. I had marched in, seen a drunk Booth about to have sex with her, promptly yanked her up off of his lap and tossed her on her ass out the front door before I claimed that privilege myself.

I still remember the opened mouth look of awe she had as I tossed her white bolero purse and beige peep-toe stiletto heels into the hallway after her. And, as I started at Angela's reconstruction, I remembered my final words to her, too.

"Now, let's be clear. Professionally, I find you to be an adequate journalist… and I do hope this little exchange won't impair our ability to work together in a professional manner. But, if I ever find you anywhere near Booth again, I will demonstrate to you several very unpleasant ways in which I can break just about every goddamn bone in your stupid, shallow, self-centered, self-involved dumb blonde slut of a body. I have planned the perfect murder before, Hannah. I know what I need to do to kill you, bury your body so that not so much as a bone chip is found, and get away with it. Do we understand each other? Good. Now, get lost."

I slammed the door on her face after that, distracted as I was by needed to tell Booth about the baby and force the angry confrontation that was so desperately needed to clear the air between us that I never gave her a second thought. Even though her name had occasionally come up over the years, such as when I had been subpoenaed to testify before the Congressional subcommittee or talked to John, until that very moment, I hadn't really given her a serious second thought. And, when I finally did, it was slightly macabre in its nature.

Yes, apparently she had taken my words to heart, literally, and had gotten lost - apparently, in an ironic twist, after someone had beat me to the punch in fulfilling my threat to her. They had killed her, buried her body, and for a time, not so much as a bone chip had been found… at least until a month ago when Booth and I had been called in to investigate the case. Up until that point - because Booth and I *always* solve our murders - someone had probably thought that they had finally gotten rid of Hannah Burley for good, and gotten away with the perfect murder. And, now, *now* I had to be the one to solve her murder and prove her killer wrong.

Me? I have to avenge Hannah Burley's death? What a joke. What an ironic, horrible joke. More over… well, just-God, that sucks. That just really, really sucks.

-DELETE-

-TBC-