Brennan sat alone in her darkened office with a blank computer screen staring back at her, desperately hoping that if anyone even noticed she was sitting there they would assume she was working on some important document and just leave her the heck alone. Trying to put a finger on what she was feeling, without the pressure of a thousand pieces of unsolicited advice coming her way like they invariably had every single day since she had announced her pregnancy. As if an expanding waistline were the moral equivalent of a desperate SOS signal issued from a sinking cruise liner to any and every passing ship.

It had slowly but surely become draining, all of it; the justifying, the explaining, the defending, the arguing. Draining and demoralizing.

Sad that this was what it had come down to for Temperance Brennan, expert forensic anthropologist with multiple PhD degrees and a regular on the New York Times' best-seller list: an elaborate and puerile game of dodge ball. If her colleagues didn't know she was in her office, or if they thought she was too busy, she would remain somewhat safe from their dreaded counsel. So here she sat, ensconced in the gloom, quietly waiting for some major revelation to hit her.

The stupid charade, which she knew was fully beneath her, went on for a while and actually seemed to be working until the light-headedness and the hunger pangs besetting her for the last hour compelled a desperate lunge for the emergency protein bar stashed away at the bottom of her purse. She ripped open the wrapper and bit down hard on the stale rectangle, regretting at that first awful, medicinal taste the fact that she had skipped a real breakfast.

And then it finally came to her; vexation, all-consuming, infernal vexation; that's what she was feeling.

And right now, few things could be more vexing than the thought that maybe Booth was justified in worrying about her and the baby, about the way she dressed, or went about her job, or ate-or didn't eat-as had been the case this morning when, caught in the maelstrom of her bitter diatribe, she had simply forgotten to. She could practically hear his moralizing, paternalistic voice soapboxing her on the importance of eating at regular intervals during pregnancy, and it stung.

She chewed on the cloyingly sweet and chalky roll with little pleasure and even less finesse, washing it all down with water from her new best friend: the stainless steel bottle emblazoned with a little skull and crossbones that Booth had given her as a gift some weeks ago to make sure she stayed well-hydrated. Maybe the next present would be a microchip implanted under her skin at a vet clinic, so he could keep even better tabs on her.

Why was it that all those things which had once been so simple were now impossibly muddled? She still couldn't believe she had openly admitted to herself, let alone to Cam, that she worried about Booth when he wasn't in her sights. It was the concern of a deranged person; baselessly ludicrous. It was an incontrovertible fact that he was more than able to take care of himself. He'd been an Army Ranger, for crying out loud, just as she had been perfectly capable of staring down firing squads all on her own. And yet, here they both were, pathetically fretting over each other's safety; she, the humorless, plucky heroine in some overwrought Victorian gothic romance, and he, the handsomely brooding stranger obstinately standing guard over her against her will. Maybe it was the hormones, she seethed. And wouldn't that just be the final insult.

But if it was just hormones, then what the devil was his excuse?

She felt the baby's vigorous kick as the sugar finally made its way into her bloodstream, and the shakiness she had been experiencing for the last few minutes began to wane. The resentment and the conflicting emotions, however, perversely clung to her like a cloud of noxious fumes.

As much as she didn't want to own up to it, Cam's words this morning had affected her; she just wasn't sure in what way. This new world where everything and everyone suddenly felt they had the right to inspect, critique, and even direct her life, not always to best effect, was virgin territory for her and no matter how hard she tried, none of it made any sense.

The moody ramblings continued their forward parade as she let the so-called 'food' settle. Although she wasn't hungry anymore, she forced herself to eat some almonds purely for the baby's sake and to placate the invisible Booth perennially looking over her shoulder. Maybe she should just go ahead and confide all these new fears to Angela-to hell with what was theirs being theirs, since clearly, with Cam's recent involvement in their situation, this relationship rule no longer seemed to apply. Angela was the only person she felt comfortable talking to these days, and the only person she felt would almost surely take her side.

Unbeknownst to Brennan, her friend was already right down the hall, having finally dared to walk back to Cam's office to deliver the preliminary findings as to the killer's nesting site. Brennan was definitely on Angela's to-do list this morning- just not this very minute, because this new information was of vital importance to the authorities and it had to come first, even when she was dying to make a detour.

Angela had waited a couple of extra minutes to give her boss some time to decompress after the argument she had just overheard between the two colleagues and perennial office frenemies. Even so, approaching her had taken some courage because Angela knew just how short Cam could be with those around her when her authority was questioned, particularly by Brennan. But this really was a matter of life and death, and she was left with no other choice but to face the possible executioner's axe awaiting her on the other side of Cam's door.

By the time Angela walked in, the coroner thankfully appeared composed enough, if not entirely happy. It was as good as Angela figured she was going to get from her today.

Together the two women went over the facts, with both ultimately agreeing that the coordinates which had been provided by Angela's program were in all likelihood correct. Not the location exactly, because the interns hadn't been able to fully examine all the variables yet, but at least the many warehouse buildings that together made one giant nightmare of an investigation site had been reduced to one. With a little more time, that large building would hopefully be further whittled down to a specific floor, and maybe even to one room.

Cam called Booth to give him the news.

"So there you have it," Cam concluded her recap in a businesslike tone. "I'm sending you the schematics right now; they should be coming up on your screen any minute, and I'll send you any updates as soon as we get them."

Angela heard Booth's brusque, impatient voice blaring over the loudspeaker.

"Cam, I need more than that; that one building's still too big, and it's full of heavily plated, metal doors that all seem for some bizarre reason to be dead-bolted shut. The walls are too damn thick to just break through-we've already tried-so we're going to have to rely on a welding team to get us in. If you guys can't figure out the room, or at least the floor, it'll be days before we get around to finding the right spot."

"Seeley, don't you think we're trying our hardest here? As to your building, it was a turn of the century cold-storage facility; that explains why the walls are so thick and there's all those metal doors-the rooms were actually individual refrigeration compartments. It's going to take some time to narrow down a specific location given the strange configuration and angles of the windows-we're scientists, not magicians" she explained slowly, as if she were speaking to a child, and Angela smiled because dealing calmly with adolescent personalities was perhaps what Cam did best as head of the lab.

"Look," she continued, "I told you I'd call as soon as we got anything else. It shouldn't be long. I can messenger the larger diagram of the complex with our notations over to you right now if you think it'll help so your guys can get at least get a head start."

"Don't bother-I'm coming by to pick it up myself."

The two women looked at each other simultaneously, and Angela would have bet anything that they were both thinking the same thing; a diagram wasn't what was bringing Booth to the Jeffersonian. Angela was fairly certain about what was prompting the agent's unexpected layover, and after hastily exiting Cam's office with promises to return asap, she hurried over to Brennan's in hopes of preventing another disastrous scene between two people she cared about like the one she had witnessed earlier that morning.

"Hey, we're getting close to finding out where the killer was hiding; just thought you'd like to know" she said casually, peering into the darkness that enveloped her friend.

"I'm not really involved with this case, Angela" Brennan replied flatly. "Perhaps you should call Booth and let him know-it's his case."

"Cam and I called him already and we told him we'd send him anything else we found, but he's coming by anyway. My guess is it doesn't have all that much to do with a burning desire to look at a hard copy of our findings."

"I'm not particularly interested in his reasons for coming over to the Jeffersonian."

Angela entered the office with the aplomb of a woman on an errand of mercy, turning on a floor lamp to its lowest setting in an effort to preserve the quiet mood that pervaded the room. Calm; everyone needed to stay calm. She shot her best friend a pointed look.

"I was standing right by Cam's office when I heard the fight between you two."

"It wasn't a fight" Brennan said matter-of-factly; "it was simply a disagreement over employment practices."

"Call it what you will, but it wasn't pretty. I almost got caught in the crossfire of a guerilla war I didn't even know was going on. Talk to me here, sweetie; it doesn't do any good to hold that stuff in, especially now" she said, pointing at Brennan's midriff. "Bad for mother and baby."

Brennan rolled her eyes at the latest in a long line of inescapable exhortations that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

"She sided with Booth, Angela, over me; over her obligation to utilize the resources at her disposal in the most efficient, rational manner." There was finally a glimmer of emotion in Brennan's voice, but what Angela got from it wasn't the anger she expected; it was despondence.

"If you're saying that Cam chose friendship-and not just with Booth, but with you as well, over the requirements of her job, well, I don't think that's all that bad."

"She had no right to pull me off this case without at the very least consulting with me first, and neither did Booth."

"I take it there was a more heated version of the so-called 'disagreement' over at your house with Booth this morning."

"Sometimes I feel like I got in way over my head when I embarked on this relationship, Angela. He can be utterly exasperating; he's controlling, deceitful…"

"And loving, and protective."

"Are you're now siding with him as well, I see" Brennan intoned sorely.

"No honey, I'm not. Granted, I do have a soft spot for Booth because well, he's gorgeous for one, and he's nice, and he takes care of my best friend…"

"I don't need to be taken care of."

"Of course not; we both know that. And if Hodgins had pulled that crap on me, heaven knows I would have really lost it, same as you-maybe even worse."

"So what am I supposed to do? I can't just give in to his demands and casually accept him taking over my whole life, piece by piece; it's become unbearable. Not just at work," she went on plaintively; "he watches what I eat, what I'm wearing, where I walk. Hundreds of thousands of women go through pregnancies all by themselves every year and manage just fine without a man lording over them."

Angela sat on the edge of Brennan's desk, watching the scientist with fondness, and also with concern. She knew that if the situation with Booth wasn't defused soon, it might become unfixable, and her friend might be end up considering alternatives which would not be in anyone's best interest, least of all her own.

"Look," Angela began, ready to put her peace-making skills to the test. "There are two types of guys when it comes to their pregnant gals; those who go skiing with their frat buddies a week before the due date without an ounce of thought or regret, and those who watch over them like a hawk. You and I, we got the second variety, except that yours might be a just a tiny bit on the extreme end of that scale-like out by Jupiter. But try to imagine how he's got to be feeling. He didn't get to be around Rebecca much when she was pregnant with Parker, so it's practically like he's a first time dad when it comes to this. And knowing Booth like I do and how he loves to go on guilt-trips, I bet he's feeling kind of responsible for putting you into this situation to begin with. He's just overcompensating."

"I take full responsibility for my pregnancy; it's my body, and I should have taken the necessary precautions when we had sex, and I didn't. If I believe that women have the right to govern their own bodies at all times, including the gestation period for a baby, and I do, then the same has to apply to the act of conception. I don't blame him for what happened; there is no blame, there's only a child, and one I'm very happy about carrying regardless of how it came about. What I'm not pleased with is Booth's constant interference in my affairs, particularly when it comes to my work."

"Booth doesn't see it that way; for him, he's 50 percent of that conception equation. Have you forgotten that little lesson you got when you inaccurately concluded that Jared was the man? If you did, let me remind you: for better or worse, Booth is the ultimate alpha male. You Jane, he Tarzan; besides, he loves you."

"You're siding with him again" Brennan responded, narrowing her eyes at Angela. "Besides, love can't possibly mean that you get to dictate the terms under which someone else lives. That's not love; it's a form of slavery. Regardless of how noble the reasons might be behind his impossible behavior, I can barely tolerate the constant scrutiny now; what's it going to be like after our daughter gets here? This may very well be it for me," she said bleakly.

Angela laughed and shook her head.

"I'm the keeper of a little well-known secret which I wasn't going to share with you because I don't believe in terrifying unsuspecting first time mothers before delivery. Besides, they're all going to find out about it soon enough. But you're giving me no choice sweetie, so brace yourself for the shock; be forewarned though, it's your own fault if it makes you run for the hills screaming. You ready?"