A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. Between work, getting the stomach flu, and a middle school friend's engagement party, it has been a crazy couple of weeks. I didn't mean to leave you guys hanging that long after I killed off VNM. But here we go, and posting will be more regular. Thanks for your patience, enjoy, and if you feel so inclined, please leave a review :)

Chapter 10

The Guilt in the Innocent

"Agent Booth, is there anything you would like to say in your defense?" Agent Reid Wilkins asked him.

Booth said nothing, staring straight ahead and not making any eye contact with the agent sitting across the table from him. He had no idea how long he had been sitting in this exact same spot but he knew that he was beyond exhausted. For the last several hours, he really wanted to look at his watch but knew the trained investigator with him would pick up on any movement he made and would surely use it against him. So instead, Booth focused on keeping his eyes open and looking alert, not an easy task after being up for what he was sure was more than twenty-four hours.

Although, he couldn't help a small smirk from crossing his face when Agent Wilkins looked completely disgusted at his lack of progress in this interrogation session. Bring it on, rookie, Booth thought as he continued to keep his mouth shut. That is until the door of the interrogation room was flung open and his partner rushed inside.

"Bones, what are you doing here?" he asked, scowling at how hoarse it sounded after not speaking for hours. The scowl deepened when his partner ignored him.

"Agent Wilkins, I need to speak with you for a moment, outside," Bones said, still not making eye contact with him. Agent Wilkins gave him a look that said he better not go anywhere as he closed the door behind him, leaving him in the dark about why his partner was here in the first place.

He was tempted to get up and stretch his legs but he wasn't sure that it wouldn't trigger several agents filling into the room and not so politely telling him to sit back down. Personally, he was too tired to play any games and although he could feel his muscles cramping from being in one position for so long, he hoped that Bones was out there right now convincing him that he was innocent. He knew that when she wanted to be she could be rather convincing and she definitely wouldn't give up until her opinion was known. A few minutes later, several agents walked into the room looking like they meant business.

"Agent Booth, stand up and assume the position," one of the younger agents who Booth didn't recognize told him and Booth felt helpless as he watched two of the other agents flanked him on either side of the table, not really giving him a choice about his actions. His mind was racing; what had Bones told them? Did the squint squad find something that convinced them of his guilt? If only he had a minute to talk to her he could explain whatever they found. His hands were shaking slightly as much as he willed them not to as he got up from the chair and did what they instructed. Placing his hands on the wall in front of him, he bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment, expecting the cold metal of handcuffs to snap around his wrists any second as they placed him under arrest. Instead of his wrists though, one of the agents wrapped his hands around Booth's ankle, making him snap open his eyes and try to look around his back, curious as to what in the world was going on. In the next moment, the ankle monitor was taken off and Booth could feel the agents in the room back off from their crowded position around him. Turning around, he saw the door of the interrogation room wide open with Bones standing just on the other side, arms crossed across her chest and a fire in her eyes that he hadn't seen since his fake funeral. They connected for a moment and it terrified him that for the first time since their first case together, she was intentionally avoiding eye contact with him. As he was about to go to his partner, Wilkins stepped in front of him and Booth helplessly watched as his partner turned and left.

"Agent Booth," Agent Wilkins said, unknowingly interrupting his and Bones' silent conversation. "Dr. Brennan has come by with some new information that has proven your innocence. You are free to go. Assistant Director Hacker has informed me that your suspension is still in effect until the review board meets next week. You are to stay in the area until then, is that understood?"

Booth nodded absently at his statement, still more concerned about why Bones was avoiding him the way she was. The moment Agent Wilkins stepped aside, Booth rushed out of the room, desperate to find Bones.

"Bones!" he called as he saw her in the elevator. As the doors closed, he managed to stick his arm in between just in time to cause the doors to open again. "What happened? What evidence was Wilkins talking about?"

The look she pierced him with stung more than any punch he ever received. Her normally clear blue eyes were clouded with grief and anger, a combination that made his heart stop for a moment. He instinctively knew that all of it was directed at him but he had no idea why. And suddenly, the feeling that overtook him when he got back from Afghanistan enveloped him once again. The feeling that he didn't know how to talk to his best friend and couldn't do anything to comfort her, not like he could do before…well before everything changed. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, the itching feeling that previously signaled his need for his now ex-girlfriend. It crawled under his like a million ants and he quickly stuck his hand into his pocket, gripping his poker chip with a strength that could have broken it in two. Before he could figure out what to say, Bones started speaking in a voice that was so flat it didn't even sound like her.

"You knew, Booth, and you didn't say anything. You knew about Broadsky and you didn't tell the FBI. I trusted you; I trusted that you knew what you were doing. But I should have known better, I should have known that you were the same jerk that came back from Afghanistan a year ago, the same man who was cold and mean and selfish."

As she finished, the elevator doors opened and Booth stood, stunned while Bones briskly walked away, her arms still crossed over her chest and not glancing back at him once. The ding of the bell signaling the closing of the doors finally startled him out of his trance and he ran after her, not caring about the looks he was getting from the other agents in the hallway.

"Bones," he called out, the echo of the parking garage making the call seem less desperate than it actually was, the harshness of the concrete swallowing the uncertainty in his tone. She didn't turn around though, didn't acknowledge his presence, only a tiny flinch telling Booth that she had even heard him at all. "Bones, will you just wait for a minute? Stop running."

He wasn't expecting her to actually follow his instruction and ran right into her when she stopped suddenly and turned around. The accusation was clear in her eyes but they were missing the usual fire that drew him to her from their very first case.

"Vincent Nigel-Murray is dead," she stated in a voice that didn't even sound like her. "He was shot through the head this morning as he was leaving the Jeffersonian by a sniper rifle, probably Broadsky."

Booth stood stunned, completely dumbstruck by her unexpected statement. "The British squintern?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"He's dead because I trusted you. I trusted you when you said that he wouldn't come after us. But obviously, I did not objectively examine the situation with all the variables and mistakenly listened to my gut. It will not happen again."

"What does that mean?" he asked, grabbing her arm when she tried to turn around and walk toward her car again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what it meant but her tone was so flat, so cold that he needed to know her intent behind her words.

"I will continue to work on this case but I think it would be inappropriate if I were to come out in the field with you anymore. I have already informed Assistant Director Hacker of this change in our working partnership and he has agreed after I managed to convince him that I would not work with the FBU anymore if this was not approved," she stated very clinically, not looking him in the eye, gazing just over his shoulder instead.

"Bones, please don't do this," he pleaded. His mind was still spinning with the implications of her statement but his mind was stuck on the fact that she was leaving, again. The itching feeling was back full force now and he knew he could almost crawl right out of his skin.

"I have to, Booth. When I look at you, I get an increased production of gastric acid associated with the release of catecholamines when the mind is feeling anxiety or guilt. I need space, Booth. Time and space. Please give it to me," she pleaded in return, finally looking at him. His breath caught for a moment and he was tempted to give her everything she wanted. He knew he was in trouble when she went back to her squint speak again. But suddenly, scenes from an airport a year ago flashed into his mind and he knew that he needed for fight for her this time, for them.

"Don't do this, Bones, don't run, not this time. It almost broke us last time; hell, it did break me. This isn't our fault, this is Broadsky's fault and it is going to take both of us to catch him and make him pay for what he did, for what he is still going to do. Please, Bones, we are the center," he finished almost at a whisper, reaching out to grab her hand, hoping to root her to the spot. He could tell his words made an impact because she hadn't fought him yet, that genius brain of hers working out what he said and her possibilities.

"Rationally, I understand the basis of your argument but emotionally, I don't know Booth." The vulnerability in her tone told him it was time to back off, that he pushed her too far already. He just nodded at her and let go of her hand, watching as she walked to her car without looking back at him.

He stood there for a moment before remembering that he had no car so there was really no point in standing in a parking garage anymore. For a moment he thought about going to catch a couple of hours of sleep on the couch in his office before thinking of his warm bed and figuring the walk to the Metro station was well worth the reward of sleeping peacefully. The roar of Bones' engine coming to life in the silent garage made him jump, raising his heart rate for a moment before following her up the ramp to the ground level and out into the sunlight.

He was about half way up the ramp when he heard the sound of a tire exploding and the sickening crunch of metal as it slammed into concrete.

"Bones," he uttered as his legs suddenly found new strength and he ran up the remaining part of the ramp, desperate to find his partner.