"Wait a minute, what is this?" Daisy asked, frowning at the menubrium. She swung the medio-cam over it so she could get a closer look on the monitor. "There's some kind of bone-brusing here. How did we miss that yesterday? And what is it from?"

"Hey, don't ask me," Hodgins mumbled, scraping some substance onto a petri dish with great care. "You'll have to ask Doctor Brennan when she gets here."

Daisy glanced at him. "She's starting to trust me quite a bit, you know. She basically let me do everything yesterday."

"Yeah, don't get too excited. She wasn't feeling well, and you were convenient."

She looked back at the bone, her face adopting a sort of pout again. "But why can't I make sense of this? She's going to come in here and tell me what it is after barely looking at it. Then she'll decide I'm not so capable after all."

Hodgins sighed. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this girl's insecurities today. Brennan's recent testiness with her interns had been useful, but for it had also provoked unusual insecurity from some of them - like Daisy. Maybe if he was getting more sleep at night, he could deal with this better. "She's the best in the world, Daisy. Nobody expects you to be as good as her. It's okay. We wont think less of you."

Daisy sighed woefully. "Where is she anyway? Shouldn't she be here by now? She's not usually late."

"Not sure. Angela's tried to call her this morning a few times. No answer." He slid the petri dish beneath a low-power microscope, peering down into it.

Daisy seemed surprised. "Shouldn't we be worried?"

"Not really," Hodgins mumbled. "Doctor Brennan runs her own schedule."

"Is she questioning a suspect with Agent Booth?"

"It's a good possibility, but Booth isn't picking up Cam's calls either. They might be somewhere they can't talk."

The young intern sighed again, saying rather dramatically, "I wish I got to go into the field more."

"Don't we all."

She smirked, her voice becoming quite knowing and superior. "You know, Lance said she goes out with Booth so much because-,"

"Stop, Daisy." Hodgins looked up from his microscope sharply. "Just stop. Whatever you're going to say – whatever Sweets thinks – don't say it. She goes out into the field with Booth because way back when he wanted us here at the Jeffersonian to help him solve murders, she blackmailed him into letting her come along. She did that because Doctor Brennan is the kind of woman who doesn't like commissioning her people out to the FBI unless she knows what's going on with the case."

"I knew that," Daisy lied. "I told Lance she was much too rational for his theory to be true."

"Mmhmm." He returned to his microscope. "Just try to focus on your work."

She let out a long, drawn-out puff of air, reluctantly turning back to the bones. Hodgins was the only one here who was any good at conversation. The others seemed to shut her down much quicker than he did. But in the end, even he left something to be desired.

The alert sound that someone with an authorized card was coming onto the platform announced Cam's arrival before the sharp click of her heels did. Both Hodgins and Daisy glanced up, but it was Daisy who let loose another sigh of disappointment and quietly went back to work.

Cam gave her a strange, mildly annoyed look. "So, what do we know?"

"Nothing," Daisy said drearily. "There's some kind of injury here to the menubrium, but I need Doctor Brennan to take a look at it."

"I found some insect eggs here. I'm trying to identify them – would have already if…" Hodgins shot his gaze toward Daisy, who wasn't watching. "But I'll get it, just give me a minute."

Cam understood. "Ah. Alright, well, I just got the victim's tox-screen back. He had Meth in his system – lots of it."

"Enough to kill him?" Hodgins was surprised. "I thought Dr. Brennan ruled Cause of Death was the damage to his hyoid."

"And her findings still stand. It wasn't enough to kill him – just send him on a massive trip."

"Who was on a trip?"

Booth and Brennan came striding up the platform, both looking alert and energized. She was buttoning her lab coat and pulling her hair up out of the way. Booth was the one who asked the question, and was looking at Cam for a response.

"Our victim," Cam told him, surprised at their sudden appearance. "Meth – where were you this morning? I've been trying to call."

"Interviewing a suspect," Booth said dismissively, as if it were unimportant. "He's not our guy. So he had meth in this system. What else?"

"Doctor Brennan!" Daisy said with excited relief. "I found something I can't identify. Can you take a look at it? We missed it yesterday."

Brennan pulled on some gloves, coming over to look at whatever Daisy was pointing at. "Another unexplained injury, Ms. Wick?"

Daisy cringed at the reminder of her failure to explain some marks on the bones the day before, for which she'd received censure and criticism from her teacher. "Well, I-"

"Those other marks you found yesterday, Bones," Booth interrupted, reminded of the previous injuries as well. "Could those be made by needles?"

She glanced up, but avoided looking at him, considering his suggestion for a moment. "Yes, hypodermic needles would be the approximate shape and size of the object used to inflict those wounds. One would have to bury the needle very deeply though to be able to gouge the femur like that."

"Like a meth needle?" Cam realized. "He was that desperate for a high, to push it so far in as to hit the bone?"

"No," Brennan shook her head, frowning. She swung the medio-cam over the femur, zooming in very close on the tiny nick there – making an almost imperceptible injury grow huge on the monitor. That close, it looked like a deep, long gouge. "He wouldn't be able to jam the needle this far in himself – or at that angle. It had to have come at him with great velocity or force."

Cam frowned. "Why wouldn't the needle just break off? They aren't that strong."

"It probably did, but when the body bloated it pushed the fragment out." Brennan seemed to think the matter was finished. She returned to examining the manubrium.

Cam glanced at Booth. "So, the suspect you tracked down yesterday isn't our guy?"

Booth shrugged. He hadn't actually questioned him – he'd had Sweets do it, and just read his report a few minutes ago. But Cam didn't need to know that. "Well, you know, he's a pathetic excuse of a guy, but I don't think he did it. He says our victim associated with some pretty shady characters, so our list of suspects just got a whole lot bigger."

He looked back at his partner, leaning over the bones of a dead man. This was her true comfort zone, and watching her, he felt a surge of affection for his weird little scientist. She looked lovely, her hair falling across her neck, her brow puckered every so slightly in concentration as she handled the bones with meticulous care. He'd spent all morning exploring her in every possible way, but watching her like this, he still got the sense he didn't know her at all.

"It's a bone-bruise, Daisy," Brennan murmured after peering at the menubrium for a second. "I've seen this injury before. It's common in the remains of the indigenous people of the Hi-Merima tribe, where they try to exercise illness out of the elderly by striking the sternum with a small stone hammer. The belief, of course, being that-"

"So someone hit this guy with a small stone hammer?" Booth cut in with a degree of amusement.

She gave him a sharp look, which quickly turned into a grin that she ducked down to hide. "That is unlikely. But this was caused by an object with minimal surface area, great force, and perhaps a fulcrum to deliver the blow at the precise angle. But I can't be certain about the fulcrum."

"Does it help us in anyway identify the killer?"

"Perhaps." She looked up at Daisy. "I want you to map the pattern of bruising and give the measurements to Angela so she can look for possible weapons."

Daisy nodded quickly, eager to get back into her mentor's good graces.

Brennan observed her discouragement, and after a moment of silent debate, said reluctantly, "Good work, Ms. Wick."

"But I couldn't identify it," Daisy protested.

"I don't expect perfection, but I expect intelligence and perceptiveness. You discovered an injury that we both missed yesterday."

"Really?" Daisy's crestfallen expression illuminated again.

"But-," Brennan said quickly, before her the grad student's exuberance could overflow, "I need you to go map these injuries quickly, so Angela can get started. The bone room will have the instruments you need. You should do it now."

Daisy lifted the sternum carefully, grinning. "Right away."

She hurried off, reassured that she was not thought less of after all. The others on the platform watched her go, glancing at Brennan with vague amusement.

She turned and saw their expressions. "What?"

Booth laughed. "It's always great when you just dismiss your squinterns like that. Queen Bones and her puny little serfs."

"No, I did not dismiss Daisy. I gave her an assignment," Brennan protested. "It's her job. Besides, she'll never learn about bone bruising if I don't give her the opportunity to examine it extensively."

"Sure, whatever say, your highness," Booth said with a mock bow.

"I got it." Hodgins looked up from his microscope. "Cimex lectularius. These are bed bug eggs."

Cam was surprised. "Bed bugs? But if our victim was sleeping on a bed infested with bed bugs, wouldn't he have had more on him than just a couple of eggs?"

"I don't think he was," Hodgins spun his stool around so he was facing them. "I think our murderer was. I couldn't find any evidence of adult bedbugs in any of the remains. It's more probable that these eggs were transferred from the assailant when our victim was killed."

"Great," Booth said with a touch of sarcasm. "Except that bedbugs are all over the place."

Hodgins jumped up and went to one of the computers. "Yeah, but there was a recent bedbug outbreak in one specific neighborhood." A few clicks and jabs to the keyboard, and the screen filled with a map of D.C. "Anacostia."

Booth whistled through his teeth. "Lot of drugs there. The druggie kid was right, our boy was in with a really bad crowd."

"If he was attacked by someone in Anacostia, like a fellow addict or drug dealer, it would explain the bed bugs, the needle marks, and the meth in his system." Cam looked at Booth meaningfully. "Looks like you're going to have to brave the war zone."

"Great. Tracking down one specific drug dealer in that neighborhood is like trying to find a grain of rice in a blizzard." Booth shook his head, realizing things were about to get a whole lot messier with the case. "Thanks for the help - I'm going to go poke around the area and see what I can learn. Call me when you find out anything else."

He turned to leave, but stopped when he heard Brennan pulling off her gloves and trotting after him. He swung around to face her. "You're staying here, Bones."

She frowned. "What? No I'm not. I'm coming."

"No." His voice got firm.

Her face transformed into surprise and displeasure. "Yes, Booth, I am. You might need me to identify the kind of needles he would have used. They are a very specific diameter."

"It's not happening. Stay here."

"No. I'm coming." She tried to move past him.

He stepped in front of her, bodily blocking her while placing his hands on her arms and gently pushing her back. "You're not."

"Yes, I am!" She tried a beseeching look. Why didn't he want her with him?

Her expression just heightened his determination. He kept her firmly in place. "No."

"Booth, what is the problem? They don't need me here for a while. Daisy and Angela can figure out the weapon used on his sternum-,"

"Listen to me, Bones. You're not coming. That is way too rough a neighborhood for you to be in." His jaw grew tight with frustration and his eyes bore holes into hers.

"I've been in bad areas before."

"Hannah was shot in this neighborhood. Do you remember that? You saved her life? Ring any bells?"

She shook her head, her brow furrowing. "She was investigating bad cops – that's not what we're doing. I'll be fine."

His voice began to elevate in volume and intensity, a sort of panic and rage rising up inside him as she pushed and pushed at his limits. Why couldn't she just accept it was too dangerous? She was just reckless! That's what she was – reckless. And it made him angry at her. "No way I'm letting you come with me, so just drop it."

She was getting angry too, because he was being so obstinate and difficult, because she didn't understand his hesitation. He had only been around to protect her for the last six years – her entire life until then she'd done a very good job of it herself. She had been in far worse situations than Anacostia, alone and imprisoned, being threatened and beaten, and she had come out of it alive. Why didn't he trust her to come with him?

"I can take care of myself, Booth. I'm not afraid of some drug dealers."

"Well maybe you should be!"

"Why?" she challenged, her breath hot and blood boiling.

"Because you can't just think about yourself anymore!" He finally burst, the outrage too large to contain. Was she really so irresponsible? "You have something to protect now. Did you even think about that? What if you got shot, huh? Or even kicked in the wrong way? You think I'm going to let you compromise both your lives? You don't get to be selfish anymore, you have to think about the baby."

The baby. The words mushroomed into the air, the fallout radiating outward like a cloud. The echo of it seemed to ring on and on and on.

And the silence that followed was deafening.

She glared at him. She was frozen in dread and rage, livid that he had just thrown their secret, their guarded, precious secret, out into the air for the world to hear.

And though he realized what he'd done, his desperation to make her stay where it was safe outweighed his guilt, and he met her glare with even venom.

They were still on the platform, and they were not alone.

Even though neither Booth nor Brennan broke their fierce gaze at one another, they could feel the shocked stares of Hodgins and Cam on them, on the exposed nakedness of their revelation.

"Baby?" Hodgins repeated very softly.

Brennan's look was so accusing that Booth finally had to escape it. He turned away from her, looking at the others demandingly. "What?"

Both Hodgins and Cam had wide-eyed, dumbfounded expressions.

Cam shook her head at Booth's question. "What do you mean what?"

He threw up his hands in frustration. "Forget it. Whatever. I'm out of here. Call me if you find anything new."

As he turned to leave again, Brennan grabbed him fiercely by the arm. He turned to face her, meeting a red-hot look of resentment that sort of made him die a little inside. She'd given him many different looks over the course of their partnership, including some pretty mind-blowing ones this morning, but she'd never given him this one.

"You will not leave me here to clean up this mess alone."

Her voice rang with an authority that, like the glare, she had never, ever used on him. It was astonishing, but mostly to the others. His emotions were still too stormy to be resentful that she had taken that tone with him.

He jerked his arm out of her grasp, striding back to Cam and Hodgins, looking at them expectantly. If they had questions, they better ask them.

Hodgins' gaze trailed down to Brennan's stomach unconsciously. His blue eyes were wide, and the words he spoke were disconnected from his suddenly scattered thoughts. "So…it wasn't food poisoning?"

"Nope," Booth said curtly. "I lied. I would apologize, but yeah, no, I don't feel like it."

"Baby…" Cam was disbelieving. "She's pregnant?"

Booth snapped his gaze from Hodgins to Cam. "Yep."

"For how long?"

Brennan looked down at the ground, feeling exposed and vulnerable and the subject of too much attention, which just made fueled her anger. She wished they'd stop looking at her. "Ten weeks."

"Ten weeks?" Cam choked.

Hodgins looked from Booth to Brennan, confused by their hostile regard for each other. "So…you're back to the plan of having a baby?"

There was no reply. What could either of them say? What plan? It wasn't a decision. It definitely wasn't a plan. It just was.

Cam and Hodgins glanced at one another, barely sure what to think or what to even ask. Neither one was being very forthcoming, despite Brennan's demand for an explanation.

"Is it…?" Cam ventured hesitantly. "Do you know who the father is?"

Brennan wrinkled her nose, giving her colleague an offended look. "You think I have so many partners as to not know who sired my child?"

"No, no," Cam said hastily. "I just thought… wait…! You mean you didn't use a sperm bank?"

Booth risked a quick glance over at his partner, knowing now that the second part of their two-fold secret was going to come out. It couldn't be stopped. He had opened Pandora's box. She was probably even more furious now, even though she did well not to show it. He suspected he would not be allowed to stay at her place tonight.

"No," Brennan replied. "The fetus was conceived the traditional way."

"Fetus…" Hodgins sort of laughed, but it was a confused, hesitant, shocked sort of laugh. "You have a fetus. Your own fetus. Right now."

"Oh." Cam's voice grew quiet. She didn't know what to say. This news was…impossible. "Wow."

"Okay, okay," Booth said impatiently. "So she's going to have a baby. Except nobody's supposed to know, so you have to keep it to yourselves, got it? And in the meantime, it means she is not allowed out of this lab if her intentions are to go anywhere dangerous. You all have to back me up on this one, because obviously she's going to put up a fight."

"Oh, yeah, completely agreed," Hodgins said hurriedly. "No risks for you anymore, Dr. B."

"Wait, wait," Cam cried. "Is that all we get to know? I mean… who is the father?"

This time, when Booth and Brennan looked at one another, the hostility and anger had been temporarily set aside. They had been so successful at hiding their relationship for so long. Did they want to lie and keep it a secret, or did they want to reveal the truth and face the world knowing?

But they didn't have to say anything, because Hodgins and Cam were both intelligent people, they both knew about relationships, and they both knew exactly what that look meant.

Cam gasped quietly, and Hodgins breathed a soft expletive in his amazement.

Booth returned his attention to them, seeing on their faces that they both knew. His voice grew quiet, resigned. "Yeah. Baby's mine."

"You guys actually did it?" Hodgins could scarcely believe what was transpiring right now. Not only was Brennan pregnant, but about ten weeks ago she and Booth had finally, finally done what everyone had been betting on for six years? "I mean, really did it?"

What?

Brennan turned to Booth, muttering with annoyance, "I thought I already explained that our child was conceived traditionally. That means actual intercourse, doesn't it?"

"Okay, look, just close your open trap, there Hodgins," Booth said quickly. "Listen, this wasn't a planned thing. It just sort of happened. Again, we'd appreciate if you both kept your mouths shut and not tell anyone."

"Except Angela," Brennan added. "She already knows all of it."

"Angela knows, and she didn't tell me?" Hodgins was almost just as shocked about this as the last two revelations.

"I told her not to." Brennan looked at Cam, who was at a loss for words. "Now that you know, it's appropriate to warn you that I will be requiring six weeks off when the baby comes."

"Yeah…" Cam said absently. She came sliding back to reality suddenly. "Wait, what?"

"Maternity leave? Angela was allowed six weeks time, and I expect the same courtesy, although - I am a more vital part of the team. I will try to adequately prepare the interns to perform in my absence, and I still may be available for consultation. I'm not sure yet, I don't know what to anticipate."

"Bones, maybe now's not the best time," Booth murmured. "They're still kind of in shock."

"I don't see why," she told him in a low voice. "I thought they were both capable of quicker processing than this."

"Well, they basically just got told that pigs can fly, give them a minute to adjust."

She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head disparagingly. "No, Booth, pigs can't fly."

"Exactly." He gave her a significant look, which she did not understand.

"Wait a minute," Hodgins said in the voice of startling realization. "Wait a minute. Ten weeks ago! Ten weeks ago… Michael's seven weeks, and three weeks before that…"

Cam looked at him. "What? What was three weeks before that?"

"Vincent." Hodgin's huge blue eyes swung to Booth and Brennan, growing wider and wider. "Vincent died ten weeks ago."

Cam still didn't quite understand at first, but then slowly she began to grasp the connection. They all thought Brennan was a master at grief-management – but really she'd just found a greater comforter than compartmentalization. Ten weeks later…!

The stunned pause in conversation was interrupted when Daisy returned, with Angela. Angela had Michael strapped to her in a sling. He was bundled neatly, tucked against her like a little bean. She and Daisy were talking excitedly about something, but stopped when they arrived suddenly on the platform and saw everyone staring at everyone else in meaningful silence.

Daisy looked around at them. "What's going on? Everyone looks crazy. Something bad with the case?"

"We have discovered that the killer likely lives in Anacostia," Brennan told her without missing a beat. She glanced at her partner. "Booth was just on his way out to go search for him."

"Anacostia," Angela said with a cringe. "Rough place."

"Yeah." Booth met Brennan's glance, saw that she wasn't going to protest this time.

Angela saw the look pass between them. For a moment, she grew very nervous for her friend. "Brennan's not going with you, right?"

"No, I'm not." Brennan's voice was quiet.

Hodgins shook his head, quickly turning back to his microscope before his expression gave something away. Cam too hurriedly bent over the remains, as if pretending to examine something.

"Did I miss something big? I feel like I missed something big." Daisy was not placated by the answer she'd already been given.

Angela had her suspicions as well, which was why it was her who quickly changed the subject. "Daisy and I were speculating about what could have caused the bone bruising, and we were thinking-"

"You were speculating?" Brennan interrupted with surprise, her disdain drenching every inflection.

"Well, Angela was speculating while I was mapping the pattern of bruising. Mostly just idle conversation. But there was no speculation on my part. I'm pure reason, all the way." Daisy explained quickly before she incurred more scorn from her mentor.

"And you have stopped mapping the bruise to come and tell me your theory-based conclusion?"

Daisy looked at the artist quickly, eager to displace the blame. "It was Angela's idea."

"Geeze, Bones, go easy on the kid," Booth muttered.

"There is no place on my staff for someone who is willing to abandon the pursuit of physical proof in favor of mere conjecture," Brennan told him – giving a look that plainly said he was not quite forgiven for his outburst.

Booth turned to Angela. "What did you come up with?"

"Thank you for asking," she said warmly. "We – or I guess I – thought that maybe the bruising was caused by a hand being slammed into his chest. Like, a really hard punch, or something."

"The force needed to cause that much damage would have certainly fractured many of the phalanges and damaged much more of the sternum," Brennan shook her head. "It's is unlikely that estimation is correct, which is why I discourage conjecture in the first place. What is the evidence are you basing this on?"

"Okay, Sweetie, I know you can't help it right now, so I'm going to forgive you for being snippy. I started to guess a punch because the pattern Daisy is mapping is starting to have a familiar shape. It's not done yet, so obviously it's still just a theory. But we thought if Booth is going out looking for the guy, it might be good to know that the guy might have a broken hand."

Brennan softened, realizing she was letting her irritation get the best of her, and that she had become unfairly aggrivated at her friend. "If it was caused by a fist, then yes, the assailant would definitely have a broken hand. In which case your theory could be useful..." But because she couldn't leave it at that, she added hastily, "But it is still improbable, so please consult the data before any further assumptions."

Booth grinned, reaching out to rub Michael's head. "I can work on a theory. Thank you. It might help me narrow down which of the dealers is our guy."

Hodgins cleared his throat, glancing up from his work. "Uh, if you don't find one with a broken hand, you might want to look for someone who favors brass knuckles. Could explain the smaller surface area, more condensed damage - and would still have the pattern of a fist. I could swab for traces of any metallic substances left behind on the bone."

"Broken knuckles or brass knuckles, got it." This was why Booth appreciated this squad of egg-heads. They could make a grain of rice a little bigger and a little more noticeable.

"Daisy, maybe you ought to go back to mapping the injury so we can get Booth a little more info," Cam suggested suddenly, also looking up from her pretended work.

If Daisy was surprised at being sent off twice in less than an hour, she did not show it. She simply accepted the wisdom of the suggestion and went trotting off, promising to come back as soon as she was done.

On the one hand, Brennan was glad to see her go. On the other, Daisy's presence meant the others weren't going to talk about their recent discovery, since she was the only one who didn't know. Cam must have sent her away in order to be able to talk more freely.

Angela turned to them as soon as Daisy was out of earshot. "So. Want to tell me what's going on? Did somebody spill a very big secret again?"

"'Very big' is an understatement," Hodgins exclaimed, shaking his head.

"It wasn't my fault this time," Brennan defended quickly. "It was Booth's."

"What? You provoked me. This isn't my fault."

Angela grinned hugely. "Yeah. See how hard it is to keep this kind of thing from people? And everyone thought I caved early."

"You told them sooner than we did," Brennan pointed out.

"Michael's going to have a friend," Hodgins realized, his shell-shocked look becoming one of great amusement.

Booth saw it, frowning. "Yeah well, we'll see. I don't really want my kid hanging out with squints too much."

"Hey," Angela protested, wrapping her arms around her baby as if to shield him from the implied insult. "You're the one who fell in love with a squint, mister. Your baby might turn out exactly like her. I wouldn't be tossing judgments around like that, especially when they involve my husband, my son, and your lady there."

"My lab is going to turn into a nursery," Cam said with a cringe.

"We'll most likely hire a nanny," Brennan cut in.

Booth lifted his hands quickly, cutting them all off. "Enough. Okay, I know this was big news for you people, but let's focus, okay? I've got to go hunt down a drug dealer so we can catch a killer. Can we put all this aside for a while to make that happen?"

Angela smirked, glancing at Hodgins who grinned and shook his head.

Cam nodded quickly. "You're right, Booth. We need to get back on target here."

"Okay. Good. Are we good?" he turned to Brennan. "Are you okay if I go now?"

She glanced hesitantly at the still-interested faces behind her. "Yes. But please be careful. Try to avoid being injured."

He gently took hold of her chin with his thumb and his forefinger, his expression becoming tender and adoring, like had been earlier that morning. "I'll be careful. Don't worry."

"I don't think I'll be able to prevent that." She wanted to kiss him, but she was far too reserved to do any such thing when everybody was watching.

So she nodded, and he turned to go. She watched him briefly, surprised at how quickly her anger toward him had been abolished in favor of great concern and anxiety. She frowned, turning back to her team. Their eyes were upon her still and her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Don't we have some work to do?"

They grinned and each turned again to their own task, except Angela and Brennan who didn't actually have tasks.

"Want some lunch, Sweetie? I have food in my office." Angela took her friend's hand affectionately, empathetic to the vulnerable feelings of the anthropologist. "Michael rolled over last night. Come on, we'll see if he can do it again."

Brennan agreed, eager to escape the stage-like feeling of the platform. She needed to find a way to distract herself anyway. Not being allowed to go with him, she would have to keep herself busy, or else fall pray to irrational fretting and wondering if Booth would indeed be alright.


{So, fake-out, no Sweets this time. But don't worry, he is coming. He may very well be the last to know. We'll see where the story goes. xD Anyway, leave a review and check back for the next chapter very soon!}