That night I laid as close as I possibly could to Booth. If there was any way for an object to occupy two spaces at once then I would find it through him. If it were possible I just assume we merged into one. Then I would feel more confident in our abilities to keep ourselves safe. My thoughts were mainly focused on him. I firmly believed Collins would not harm me while I was pregnant. At least, not fatally. He was much too interested in our progeny to risk our lives. After she was born I could foresee him using her as leverage over me; to take control of my mind. But for now that was a hypothetical situation. The threat to Booth's life was far more imminent.

In the wild among lion prides it is common for outside males to challenge the alpha male in hopes of acquiring their territory, as well as their pride. I likened that situation to what was taking place around me. An outsider had stolen me away from my alpha mate. Now it seemed he wouldn't give up until I was back in his "kingdom." Booth would risk his life fighting for me. History had already proven his desire to protect me from all things. This knowledge increased my worry. I still wondered if I wasn't better off returning to Collins, and removing myself after the baby was born. But having a child in the mix would only complicate matters. There was no guarantee that Collins wouldn't still feel threatened and hunt Booth down, either. No easy answer could be found in this.

For hours I laid awake. I watched the moonlight dance across Booth's face as it slid across the blackened sky. I felt every soft breath that he took. In his muscles I could feel the tension of stress and pain thick and tight, much like a rubber band pulled taut. I didn't want this for him. I was foolish. Because of me his body had been damaged; his home ravaged. He'd barely had any personal time to move on from Hannah before I had involved him in this deadly game. He deserved better.

That didn't stop me from laying my palm gently on his cheek. He let out a sigh and shifted his hips. But he didn't wake. I propped myself up on one elbow. I was careful of his upper chest as I brought my lips to his. Gently I kissed him. I had no intentions of waking him. It was just my thoughts getting the best of me. I selfishly needed him. My emotions were clouding my judgment, as they had been all along.

Yet his mouth answered mine. He lifted his hand to stroke my hair away from my face. "You okay? Did you hear something?" He whispered.

"No. I just… just go back to sleep, Booth." I couldn't just tell him how I was feeling. My craving for affection came from a place I didn't understand. But as I watched over him I realized I would never be able to leave, whether it was rational or not. I loved him.

In the morning Booth was up before me. I woke to the gentle sound of the shower raining down upon his body and the ceramic basin of the tub. Bathing was a real challenge for him now because of the cast. I had an abundance of sexual affection left over. I smiled to myself deviously. Perhaps I'd go see if he needed any assistance.

He startled when I slipped into the shower behind him. Wordlessly I kneaded his back and upper arms. He groaned happily as I loosened knots and smoothed out troublesome areas. Not before long he awkwardly turned around and kissed me. I allowed him to press my back up against the tiled wall, the baby creating a space between us. His mouth devoured mine as the droplets of water rained over both of us. I wish I could say we made love, but it was his present condition that was keeping us from being able to successfully do so. That didn't stop us from employing other methods in satisfying one another. We were worn out by the time we both came separately. The session was pleasant but I missed the real thing. I eagerly looked forward to Booth's complete recovery.

We dried off and dressed. Then it was off to his apartment to rummage through the damage. I knew the minute he uncomfortably shuffled over the threshold into a charred out shell of what was once an apartment, this was due to be more emotionally trying than I'd realized.

Booth exhaled roughly. He limped ahead of Brennan to do a full catalog of the remains. He now understood all that the fire chief had relayed to him. Some areas on the floor in the rubble had darker burns than others, suggesting to him that a chemical agent had been used to accelerate the fire. Increase the severity of the burn. The contents of the kitchen and living room were mostly ashes. He took himself into the bedroom to find most items in there had gotten away with little to no damage. The fire department had arrived before the flames had spread to that room. He was caught in an upheaval of overwhelming feelings. Down onto the edge of his bed he sank.

Brennan stood before him. "I'm so sorry, Booth."

Dazedly, he muttered, "I should've… I don't even know what I should have done. It's gone, Bones. Except for this room everything else is gone. Why would he go this far? He'd already driven us out of here. Why come back and torch it?"

She wasn't sure if he was really seeking an answer. "I'm not one for conjecture. That's your area."

He nodded, though mostly to himself. "I guess I can still clear out this room. I had some valuable stuff in here. I don't know if I want to try and sort through the rest. I guess I just count it as a loss." He chuckled sadly. "This isn't going to stop."

"Maybe we need to fake your death, Booth. The FBI could have a fake funeral for you again. We could send him off our trail while we made a getaway…" She furrowed her brow as he shook his head during her speech. "What? You said that he wrote in that letter the next time we'd see him again-"

"No. That isn't what he meant. He means if you and I get separated, the next time you," he pointed at her. "Will see me again, will be at my funeral. If he catches us apart he'll kill me on sight."

"But, no. He can't do that. He won't be able to harm you."

"Bones, he already has. I'm hurt, and it's going to be a while before this knee is healed. I'm not up to my full strength. I'm not as strong and I'm definitely not as fast. If he wanted to take me out right now, he probably could."

His words were wounding in their realness. The disdain sent a shiver down her spine. "But why only if we're apart?" She asked through a tightening throat.

"He won't take the risk of hurting you. Not while you're this pregnant." His eyes saddened. "Not with his kid."

She put her hands on his shoulders. Dead in the eyes she looked him. "Then I'm never leaving you alone again."

"You can't be with me all the time," he reminded quietly.

"If it will keep you safe, then we'll find a way."

Rather than try to salvage through everything himself, Booth made an entire list on a notepad of all of the items he wanted. One call to the bureau and they complied with his personal request of having an agent assist them in moving his things to the same storage locker they'd placed Brennan's in. Booth knew how fortunate he was. He couldn't imagine they'd bend over backwards to help just anyone.

From there Brennan drove them back to their hotel room. The idea was to spend the rest of the afternoon searching both the computer and various printed rental guides for apartments. She also wanted Booth to relax. Since seeing what was left of his home and being active on his leg he'd turned a shade of white that was unidentifiable, except maybe to artists. The storm brewing behind his eyes told her he was thinking much more than he was saying. "I thought maybe its time we tell Hodgins and Cam about Collins." She told him.

Booth didn't question her. It was her decision. But he did wonder, "how much do you want to tell them?"

The baby. She knew that was what he was referring to. "Booth, as far as I am concerned this child is yours. I don't care who the actual father is. No one besides us, and Angela, has any reason to know."

Finally he smiled a little. "I'll support you, Bones. Whatever you decide. I'm here."

"I know."

That was the last they heard from Collins. Again, months flew by without a breath of his name. The two again found themselves tensely trying to move forward in their lives. The first apartment that they both liked became their new home. They didn't move in their possessions, rather Sweets and Hodgins took over, as well as many of the other Squinterns that recruited themselves once Brennan informed her colleagues of the situation. Booth had been unhappy in being unable to participate, but admitted that it made sense. Collins had wormed their way into their world before when they'd perceived it as being safe. There was no saying he wasn't somehow keeping tabs on them now. It was better if they remained out of sight while settling in their new place.

Cam increased security in the lab. She pulled Booth aside one afternoon to speak to him privately. "It was Collins who broke your knee, wasn't it? You didn't injure yourself while you were apprehending a suspect at all. You lied."

That had been the tale they'd given for explanation of Booth's cast. He wouldn't answer her either way. "It's nothing to be worried about. I'm all right."

"He hit Dr. Brennan so hard she had a brain contusion, and he broke your kneecap. I'm sorry Seeley but, I'm worried. I know you're willing to lose your life for her. And he's obviously willing to take it." She eyed him. "And you're in much more pain than you're letting on."

"We're doing everything right." He promised. "We'll be safe. We're doing everything to protect ourselves."

Booth spent the next few months in physical therapy. His hard cast was replaced with one that allowed his knee some movement. He worked daily at building his stamina back to where it had once been, though he'd been warned it was likely the joint would never be as strong or sturdy. There was also worry of him having a permanent limp. The negative words spoken by the specialists around him didn't deter him. He flatly refused to let Collins take anything away from him. The thought only stroked the fire burning within his heart.

Brennan's stomach seemed to swell to a bigger size daily. Week to week was a learning experience for her. She did her best to deal with the symptoms with little complaint. Her doctor had assured her she was carrying a normal, healthy baby. Considering all they'd been through the parents were delighted. She knew since he had been drugged Booth had suspected Collins' attack on her had been more vicious than they'd realized. Doctors' reports gave them concrete proof of the truth. Mother and daughter were just fine.

Their life together wasn't at all the way they'd imagined it. Neither would have ever dreamed of the circumstances that brought them together. But they could appreciate it for what it was. In the predawn hours the two often laid awake in each other's arms. Brennan would smile as Booth would smooth his hand across her stomach. He'd draw shapes with his index finger. He'd lay his head down against her skin and whisper to the child words she wasn't meant to hear. She realized that she'd never felt so safe or so loved as she did when she was in his arms.

In the continuing silence Booth shouldn't have been surprised when he'd found a letter waiting for him in the mailbox one sunny afternoon. The envelope gave no return address, and was made out to him. There standing in the lobby to their building he tore into it. If it was Collins then he wanted the advance warning before breaking it to Brennan. His gut was already firing on all pistons with predictions.

Sure enough, inside was a plain piece of paper with cut up letters pasted to it. Say your goodbyes. It read. He could see the outline of another sentence on the back of the paper. He flipped it over. You're dead.

Just then the window besides him imploded as a bullet was fired straight through the glass. Booth didn't think about his knee. His instinct was to duck, and that was precisely what he did. Down to the floor he dropped roughly onto his stomach. Outside he could hear the panic of others on the street. No one had known where the shot had come from. That only increased the pandemonium.

Booth rolled over onto his back. He laid absolutely still as he tried to process any damage. Other than a terrible burning sensation in his knee he wasn't injured. He hadn't been shot. But there was no saying another bullet wouldn't be arriving through the shattered debris; one that would have his name on it.

He and Brennan had to get out. Their paradise had been breached. If Collins was shooting at him there was no saying what else he had planned. Brennan could inadvertently be wounded or killed in the crossfire.

Up onto his feet he pushed himself. It was time to run.