I owe thank you notes for reviews! My summer freedom is coming to an end, the Bones season nine premiere is just over a week away, and I have been frantically trying to write out the endings to two very different and very complicated stories at once.

Know that I am grateful for the gift of every single review and I will personally thank every one of you who is signed in. It's probably going to be a few more days, however.

Author's Note: Sometimes figuring out what to write in these author notes is harder than writing the rest of chapter. And that's saying something because it's a scary thing to be a writer. There is stress in finding the story, carrying it along, and of course, resolving it to your satisfaction! I worry about disappointing any of you lovely readers. It keeps me up at night. Truly, it does. I don't know what you expect from me.

Hopefully it's something like this... :)

~Q~

Intercession

After escorting Brennan and the clock safely back to the lab, Booth returned to the Hoover building and stood outside for a moment, facing the heavy brown structure with indecision. Tilting his head back, he looked up to the cerulean heavens spanning above rich green leaves from the trees planted along the sidewalk and considered God's plan in all of this.

Only a couple of days ago, Pelant had turned his dreams into a nightmare, requiring a sacrifice of Booth that had tormented him just as Abraham was tormented by giving up Isaac. He'd done it to save lives, fearing his own soul was going to be lost in the process, and yet ... somehow he should have known that God would intervene. The sacrifice had turned everything around, now as it did then in Abraham's day, merely by his willingness to go through with it. She didn't pull away; their love was stronger; answers were unfurling to questions none of them had even known to ask.

Surely this was Divine Will at work. Booth crossed himself.

Someone bumped into him, knocking him free of his reverie, and at that grim reminder of how quickly a man could slip and fall, Booth abruptly changed course. Instead of returning to work, he turned to the north and walked two additional blocks to the grey stones of St. Patrick's on the corner of Tenth and F Streets. The original church was built by stone masons, built by themselves for services while they spent the rest of their time busily building the future capital city. There had always been a Catholic Church here but this stately stone sanctuary in front of him was actually the third church on the site.

Inside St. Patrick's was like no other Catholic church that he'd seen. It felt like God in here. There was no other way to describe how his soul was uplifted merely by walking through the doors of this particular place, how peaceful it felt to be enfolded within the pristine ivory stones flooded with golden light. Glowing marble statues continued the theme of purity, of light, of hope and beauty and he would always stand at the entrance and feel the presence of the Lord before entering any further. This time he had to hurry because Confession was nearly over.

Dipping the fingers of his right hand into the angelic font at the entrance, Booth crossed himself and genuflected towards the Tabernacle on his way to the place of penitence. He'd missed that afternoon's homily, the impulse to confess having come almost too late to catch the priest at all. With only a few minutes left after everyone else had left, Booth hurried to slip into the small confessional closet and unburden himself. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit help me father, for I have sinned. It has been nine days since my last confession."

Please let the father still be in here.

A comforting and familiar voice spoke to him from the other side of the screen, quoting Scripture. "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."

"Thanks be to God." Booth settled onto the kneeler, taking a moment to ponder what had to come out first, what had compelled him to come in here when he'd been standing on the street a few minutes ago. Murder, anger, hatred, but that wasn't what he'd been thinking about on Pennsylvania Avenue. He'd reached out to God and acknowledged his own impatience.

Sins were organized into categories of either mortal (placing one's soul in danger) or venal (small, petty transgressions such as impatience) but as he thought over the past few days, Booth decided his greatest sin was lack of faith. He hadn't trusted God, or Brennan, and that was what led him to anger, hatred and murder plots. That terrible loneliness and fear when he'd lost sight of God humbled him on the street as he'd come to understand that neither his partner nor his God had ever left his side. "I've lacked faith in God's Goodness, in His plan, in His Will. I believed for a time that God had abandoned me."

Half the reason for confession was to obtain absolution, but Booth's knowledge of psychology had unveiled the other side, the hidden side. Free counseling, of a sort. A good priest always listened attentively, reflecting back what was said, helping the penitent to gain perspective and understand the root of his or her mistakes. A good priest was practically a psychologist (the same as a good bartender), and it was Brennan's tongue-in-cheek quip from that unpublished book that flitted through Booth's head when this good priest proved himself. "Can you describe the circumstances that brought about this loss of faith?"

"Yes." Booth wandered over all the facts, trying to order them into a narrative that his confessor could understand. He had no fear that what he said would leave this space, because a priest was forbidden to reveal any confession (unless a life was in imminent danger). And Pelant might be able to manipulate cameras and internet connections, but it was pretty unlikely that he'd have planted listening devices in a church. "I'm an FBI Agent. My partner, she's a beautiful, amazing woman. I fell in love with my partner and we've been together for about two years."

"You're married?"

"No. No, see, that's part of the problem. I'm guilty of the sin of fornication. She's an atheist. She doesn't believe in marriage and I love her so I'm with her, you know. I'm faithful to her, we have a child together. She just doesn't believe in marriage. Didn't. And I was okay with it. I mean, I know it's a sin to be with her while we're not married but I am committed to her. All right? So the fact that I'm fornicating is not the sin I'm here to confess."

"I understand," the priest assured him, "but I'm sure you realize that the sin of fornication places your soul in a state of mortal peril."

"Mortal peril, right. That's the problem, okay? See, the problem isn't fornication because she changed her mind. A couple of days ago she told me she finally wants to get married. She proposed to me. But there's this guy, a murderer, he's been watching us. Somehow he knew she'd proposed so he called me and told me he would kill five innocent people if I accepted her proposal. He described five random people that were right next to me at that time. We were in a park when Pelant called and he described four innocent people that were right next to me, but he said he would kill five. I thought he meant my partner, our daughter; or someone else we both know. These threats are serious, father. I have every reason to believe he would kill five people because he's already killed at least five people that we know of. So, I had to break the engagement; I was forced to lie to her."

He knew he'd grown more upset as the confession came out, especially that minute on the playground when he'd known Pelant was watching, was stalking like a hidden predator and there was nothing he could do to keep them safe but just give in. Nothing he could do but sacrifice his own soul to keep everyone else safe. The priest soothed him gently. "That lie is not a sin under the circumstances you've presented, as God considers saving lives to be the utmost priority."

Sighing, Booth nodded. "I lost my faith in God, though. I mean, how could He let this happen? I mean, she finally changed her mind. And you don't even know what she's been through in life to make it where she doesn't believe in permanence, but God does. God knows what she's been through, and me turning her down after she opened up to me ... I was afraid it would destroy her. This guy, Pelant, that's what he wanted to happen. Why did God let this happen?"

"So you began to doubt God..." the listener prompted, not judging and not answering the anguished question. Perhaps he intuitively knew Booth was confessing all of this because he'd discovered the answer himself. God's Will would be revealed in time.

"So yeah, I doubted God, all right? I didn't see how this could be part of His plan. I thought Pelant is going to get away with it, there's no way she'll ever propose again. She's been disappointed and abandoned so many times in life and now I'm the reason her heart is broken. I'm gonna lose her ... So, I started planning to kill Pelant. Serious plans. That's the next sin I have to confess."

The anger and fear had begun to consume him, turning into sight-lines and ammunition acquisition, secrets and lies that would have ripped Brennan right out of his life. He would have withdrawn from her; she would have been devastated. He would have lost her completely. "You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment." Booth shivered, sensing just how close he'd come to destroying everything he loved, at his own hands.

Because of anger.

Because he'd lost his faith.

"Are these all of the sins you are here to reconcile today?"

"Well, yeah, plus the fact that I've been lying to my partner. A couple of times she's asked me point blank if I'm hiding something. She's brilliant, you know? A certified genius. So I've had to lie to her. Pelant said he'd kill five if I told her the truth."

The priest considered the information given so far. "Of course, reconciliation cannot take place without contrition."

Booth knew that, it was the reason he was kneeling here with tremors and that shaking sense of a tragedy averted. So close to catastrophe, and only by the Grace of God had Bones somehow held onto her own faith strongly enough to pull him back from the brink of destruction.

"I felt like I had to sacrifice her, sacrifice her happiness and my happiness to save lives, and I was angry at God for not intervening. I was angry. I lost faith in God, started planning a murder, and my partner just ... it's like God worked through her. She doesn't believe in God but she does amazing things. She's a good person, father. She kept reaching out to me and had faith in me when I was so convinced she'd never trust me again. Things are happening that will expose this guy Pelant, all because of me turning her down."

How could she trust him that much? How could discovering how deeply she loved him be what saved them both?

"And this morning...?" A warm smile softened his words. "She took my hand and starts talking about hand fasting. She said that marriages used to be a private agreement between two people. I feel like she was making a vow to me. That she feels like we're married and it has nothing to do with public announcements and a piece of paper."

Surprised, the priest smiled back, the sound of amazement coming clearly through the screen. "Let me understand your situation. Your partner doesn't believe in God or marriage, but she proposed?"

"Yeah, she changed her mind. She said she wanted me to be happy, wanted me to have a Catholic wedding because it's important to me."

"...And this man, Pelant? He threatened to kill innocent people unless you declined, and you were not permitted to explain why."

"Right," Booth confirmed.

"But your partner reached out again and suggested hand-fasting?"

"Yeah, but I mean, it's not marriage. I'd still be committing the sin of fornication with her, and since I'm not sorry about that... But I'm sorry for doubting God, and I'm sorry for starting to think about killing Pelant because if I'd have done that, I would have lost her. I realize that now."

Reverently, the priest rushed to comfort the tormented man in the confessional. "Surely God works in mysterious ways. Your partner has given you the answer. God has worked His will through her, despite her lack of belief. All of your sins may yet be forgiven."

~Q~

So many things to do. Booth spent some time drawing up his notes and when he finally got back to the Jeffersonian he hoped enough time would have passed that Angela might have cracked the clock code. The first stop was Cam's office, however, because she snared him as he passed the autopsy suite (rather like a wolf spider laying in wait, which was probably not something she wanted to hear. Cam hated spiders.)

"Camille! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He thought about actually calling her a wolf spider just to annoy her as Booth yanked his arm out of her clawing grasp and rubbed the bruised flesh.

Door shut and he was trapped behind the glass.

"Like the one you've given us?" Her arms were crossed and she hadn't corrected him on the name. Not good. "What's this I hear about you not wanting to get married because of her atheism? How could you do that to her?"

Stunned, he could only stand with his eyes bulging and his tongue flailing for directions. "What? I ... Huh?"

"She's been avoiding the subject, but not twenty four hours after proposing to you, Brennan announced that you weren't getting married because you thought she didn't have enough faith. She said something to the effect of your Christian marriage ritual requiring a certain level of reverent regard." And though Brennan had done an admirable job of concealment, Camille Saroyan had noticed the only partially hidden sadness, the pain that leaked out when Brennan talked about marrying under a shadow of doubt. She thought Booth doubted her, and Cam was determined to shake some sense into him before the doubts began eating her beloved forensic anthropologist alive.

Because if Brennan fell apart, the entire Jeffersonian was going down in flames right afterwards. Cam had been through that once before, thank you very much, and had no intention of ever letting it happen again.

Not enough faith? Not getting married because she was an atheist?! He started to deny it.

"That's..." ...pure genius. His stunned brain halted the automatic defense almost immediately because if that was the reason she'd given - to take the blame and twist it onto her own lack of belief - then it was pure, unbelievable, God-given genius. It was the perfect scapegoat because she was right. Stunned again, he actually laughed which made Cam's scowl deepen.

"This isn't funny, Seeley."

"Yes it is." He shook his head and turned his head down to the slim white envelope in his hand. The note he'd brought to Cam only she'd grabbed him before he could find her on his own. "You'd think I'd know better by now not to underestimate her, but I still do and she ... God, I love her. She's a freaking genius. Do you know what that means, Camille?"

Cam's arms fell, along with her chin when he almost seemed to begin vibrating with joy.

"It means he's never going to get the best of her. She's ten damn steps ahead of every one of us, all the damn time. He's never going to be able to out-think her. Here." He laughed again and handed over the envelope.

"What's this?"

"Just do what it says, okay?"

Tearing it open, she extracted the slip of paper tucked inside, reading it with a quick flick of the eyes and looking up in shock. Chuckling as he saw her reaction to what he'd written, Booth shook his head and explained, "She gave me what I needed and trusted me to figure it out. That's why I'm laughing." He turned and went to find his genius.

Booth left while laughing, leaving Cam to return to the note and read it again. She didn't understand what was going on, but his laughter and the instructions combined to bring a smile to her own face. Time may tell what Seeley Booth had in mind, but meanwhile Cam knew the wait was going to kill her.

~Q~

Angela and Brennan were grouped around the detached laptop set up in the secure space set aside in Limbo, both looking up hastily when Booth walked into the area. The joy that brought him down to her faded only slightly when he saw two confused faces lifting to greet him. As he rounded behind them, he saw what they were looking at on the screen: streams of data, a decryption code, and video feed from the psychiatric hospital where Ethan Sawyer had been a patient. "You found something."

His partner turned and nodded solemnly. "Hodgins is checking for trace evidence now. We opened the clock and found a flash drive taped inside."

"You're trusting it in your system?"

"No," Angela assured him. "This computer is an orphan."

"So, what is that?" Booth pointed to the long streams of symbols taking up one side of the screen.

"The key to Ethan Sawyer's code."

Booth's eyes widened in astonishment while Brennan remarked calmly, "I find it ironic that you all had to work so hard to break Ethan's code, only to discover Pelant had apparently left the decryption key in plain view for me to find."

Angela met Booth's curious gaze with another assenting nod. "Everything we needed to prove her innocent is here, Booth. The original digital security files, the encoding that was used to alter the images, and even back-up copies of the paperwork that ordered Ethan Sawyer's transfer to the unsecured ward. Pelant wasn't the one who ordered the transfer."

That didn't make sense. "How can you be sure," Booth asked. "The papers could have been forged."

"If there was a forgery, it was on the original, hard copy of the transfer order. It wasn't done by computer."

"Are you saying Pelant didn't kill Ethan?"

Brennan was the one who answered this time, gesturing to what the evidence provided. "We don't know who killed Ethan; what we do know is that the transfer was done on paper, and Pelant left me this evidence that would have cleared me."

"So, if Pelant wasn't the one who had Ethan Sawyer transferred out of the secure ward, who was...?"

It could be anyone connected with the hospital, but Brennan knew the symbolic name. "The Gravedigger."

"No, Heather Taffet is dead," Angela objected.

The partners locked gazes, both recalling the Max Keenen/Gravedigger character from her novel. Someone above Pelant, pulling strings, and Pelant may have been trying to save her from that master of marionettes.

~Q~

Author's Note: The likelihood of me being right about any of this is extremely remote. But oh! what fun it is to speculate. :D

Meanwhile, this story is all about Booth's faith, Brennan's genius, and two stories intertwined. I hope you've enjoyed it because we are reaching our final destination, which I am hoping to post before the 15th.