A/N: *slowly shuffles in, dodging rotten fruit* Due to Real!Life, it's been over two months since my last update. There's a reason why I normally don't write anything longer than one-shots, and you're experiencing it firsthand, you lucky readers, you. Sorry! At this point, there's only one chapter left in this fic. Thanks to everyone who is still reading, and I'll get the last chapter up within a month. Really. Who knows, maybe I'll even finish it by the end of this month. Here's to hoping!

Also, if you haven't read Dashiell Hammet's The Thin Man, or seen the 1934 movie adaptation, I highly recommend checking them out at your local library.

Once again, thank you for your patience, and enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Six: The Perception in the Moving Picture

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"So, what kind of a movie mood are you in?" Angela asks, taking movies out of her bag. "An angry 'fuck all men' movie, a depressed 'need a good cry' movie, or a wistful 'unrealistic fairytale' movie?"

"Are those my only options?" Brennan inquires. None of the above genres sound particularly appealing to her. (She doesn't even bother to ask why someone who was angry would copulate with every man in sight or to mention that, by definition, fairytales are unrealistic.)

"Pretty much," Angela says cheerfully, rummaging through the bag. "Hold on – aha!" She holds a Digital Versatile Disk case aloft in triumph. "You've got your other option, Bren: The Thin Man."

Frowning, Brennan asks, "And what is this film about? I assume that a man lacking excess body mass is involved."

"Funny," Angela says wryly.

Brennan smirks.

"This thing is a classic," Angela continues, rapping the DVD case for emphasis. "It's about this couple – Nick and Nora Charles – who solve a murder. Lots of witty wordplay. Come to think of it, it's probably your kinda thing."

"That sounds considerably more interesting than the other choices," Brennan says, drawing her laptop out of its case.

"The Thin Man it is!" Angela says, handing her the disk.

-–- -–- -–-

The movie proves to be highly engrossing, so much so that she doesn't even comment on its multiple discrepancies. In fact, it reminds her a little bit of some of the silent films she'd watched in her youth. The main characters are glamorous and witty, rarely taken aback by events; they're the sort of people that she has always tried to emulate.

But the movie is also painfully reminiscent of the story that she wrote while Booth was in his coma. It's set during the same general era, and its bickering leads remind her of Mr. B. and Bren. (Of a life that was almost lost, and of a life that never was.)

And certain lines of its dialogue run just a little bit too close to life for her liking.

Nora: "Take care of yourself."

Nick: "Why, sure I will."

Nora: "Don't say it like that! Say it as if you meant it!"

Nick: "Well, I do believe the little woman cares."

Nora: "I don't care! It's just that I'm used to you, that's all."

In the beginning of their partnership, Brennan had vehemently denied missing Booth during each of their separations. But Booth – he'd known better. He'd teased her until she had admitted that maybe she'd missed him, just a little bit. That perhaps she'd thought about him once or twice in passing.

Booth has become such a fixture in her life that she can't imagine a life without him in it. When Booth had made his romantic overture, that was one of the first things that had popped into her head. A life without Booth would be like a life without sun. Which is hyperbole, of course. Living things need sun; she doesn't need Booth. Don't be ridiculous. She doesn't need anyone. She's Dr. Temperance Brennan and she can stand on her own, thank you very much.

Only… it gets lonely being Dr. Temperance Brennan sometimes. She has Angela, true, but somehow that's not the same. For all their superficial differences, Booth understands her in a way that no one else does.

She had concluded that it wasn't worth the risk to embark on a romantic relationship with Booth; they both had too much to lose. But what if Booth gets serious about Catherine? What if they get married, have children? She's not so naïve as to think that their friendship would remain unchanged. No woman, no matter how understanding, would allow her significant other to spend as much time with Brennan as Brennan is used to spending with Booth. There would be no more late nights with Thai food, no more movie marathons at the local cinema. His first duty would be to his family, his first confidante his wife – which is as it should be.

But when she imagines all of this, she feels a curious pain in her metaphorical heart.

Why hadn't she thought about this when she turned Booth down?

And, for all of Catherine's beauty and intelligence, humor and apparent empathy, Brennan doesn't like watching her with Booth. It's highly illogical; her mind tells her that the two of them are a good match, but something else in her squirms in discomfort at the thought of their relationship.

Yet Catherine makes Booth happy. And Booth has taught her so much about being a good friend; being supportive of his decisions is the least that she can do to repay him for everything that he's done for her.

So, shields firmly in place, she turns back to the movie. This was just a moment of weakness, that's all. Booth is important to her. He is quite possibly the best man she's ever known, and if Catherine makes him happy, then she's glad he has her in his life. Booth deserves some happiness.

And so, ignoring the leaden feeling in her stomach, Brennan becomes reabsorbed in the world of The Thin Man. It really is quite an entertaining film.