Breathing Room

Booth plowed through the rest of the afternoon but his mind was a few miles down the road at the Jeffersonian, wondering what was going through his partner's head. Taking cases personally wasn't new; she'd always done that despite the front she put on for the rest of the world. In fact, it was her lack of a facade that was throwing him off. Hodgins might be king of the lab but Brennan was the queen of compartmentalization and right now her emotions were spilling all over the place on this one.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped him out of his reverie, "You okay, Booth?"

"Just fine," he assured Sweets with a smile, shaking his head slightly to clear it. "What's up?"

"You asked me to come by and get the new case file?" the kid was trying to play it cool, Booth could tell, but there was still a shrinky look in his eyes.

"Right," Booth matched Sweets' neutral tone and rooted around the piles on his desk until he found the file. "Lauren Eames, cardiac surgeon, and according to her boss a good one. Bones took her patient logs if you need them later."

"No picture?" Sweets frowned as he perused the folder.

"Bones has that too," Booth said, then added in her defense, "you know how she and Angela like to have those to compare to the reconstruction."

Sweets nodded but still looked like he sensed something fishy and prodded, "You sure that's it?"

"The file's all there," Booth replied with a tight smile.

"Dr. Saroyan called me today," Sweets told him, switching gears abruptly. "She said Dr. Brennan withheld evidence found at the crime scene."

"I'm aware," the agent kept his emotions tightly in check, talking conversationally as if everything was normal. "She recognized it from somewhere and she did give it back. It's not like it was the murder weapon."

"No, but-"

"Don't worry about Bones," the words were both an order and a threat.

"I want to help," Sweets' plea was sincere.

"Look," Booth blew out a long breath, "Bones is a little off on this case, okay? We all see that, but the best way to help her is to help get this case wrapped up ASAP. Got it?"

The psychologist's dark curls bobbed with his head, lowering the tension in the room to a comfortable level. They exchanged a few more details about the case before Sweets excused himself, leaving Booth to his desk full of papers once again.

B&B&B&B&B&B&B

There was a soft rap on Brennan's office door, which she pointedly ignored, knowing that the man on the other side of the door would let himself in. Her hypothesis was proved a moment later when the door swung quietly open, though he surprised her by moving to the couch and leaving her to her work.

"Is it late?" she asked, still focused on the work in front of her.

"It's six."

"I'm not finished yet," Brennan informed him.

"No rush," he said with a shrug, stretching out to make himself comfortable.

"Did Booth send you to keep an eye on me?" she challenged him, raising her eyes to meet his for the first time. "Because I'm fine."

"Booth's not the boss of me," her father sounded offended. "I just swung by to spend time with my baby and my grandbaby."

Brennan rolled her eyes and went back to her work, though the attempt was short-lived when another visitor strode through the door.

"Hey, Bones. Max," Booth nodded at both of them.

"She working," volunteered Max. "And fine."

"Of course she is," the men shared a grin before Booth turned to approach her desk. "Hey, Baby."

Despite her glare he proceeded to come around beside her, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek while his hand moved to stroke her protruding abdomen.

"How much longer do you need?" he questioned her softly.

"Thirty to forty-five minutes," she estimated, knowing there was still more she could do, but knowing he would insist on her eating around that time.

"Great," this time he pecked her on the lips and smiled before turning to Max. "Let's go check on the rest of the Squint Squad!"

Max looked like he was going to protest, but a well-timed glare from the agent stopped him short and he rose from the couch with a quick promise that he would be back soon. Brennan shook her head as the two most overly protective men in her life exited her office. At least in that way, she and Laura Eames differed.

Three hours and one trip to Sid's later found Booth and Brennan on their way home with an ex-con in their wake.

"You did a good thing inviting Max back for dessert," commented Booth as he drove the familiar route.

She gave a weary smile, masking her fatigue while mentally making a list of case-related items she needed to do next. The tissue markers had been completed and sent to Angela, who had entered the data jut before leaving so they would have the results in the morning and the bones had been laid out in the exam room for Brennan to examine more thoroughly in the morning. And there were the surgeon's case files that she wanted to listen to.

Over the next hour she did her best to play hostess to her father and dismiss any concern either man had for her well-being. To her relief Max didn't linger too long and Booth found a ballgame to watch, thus distracting him from pestering her. They turned in early.

Or tried to.

Booth probably would've been able to sleep just fine had his partner not tossed and turned from the moment they laid down. Around one in the morning he finally grew weary of the charade they were creating and he gently reached out to lay a hand on her.

"Hey," his voice was gravelly from disuse but low so a not to startle her.

She stilled for the first time, allowing him to draw her into the warmth of his arms. "I can't explain what I'm feeling," the admission came in a small voice.

"Is that what's keeping you up?"

Her hair brushed against his cheek, "I'm awake because I can't sleep."

"But why can't you sleep?" he pressed gently.

The silence grew between them as she attempted to sift through her jumbled thoughts until she finally concluded, "I'm having trouble being objective regarding this case."

He could tell that bothered her even more, "Did you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure what there is to talk about," was her reply. "It would be difficult to dialogue about what I'm not entirely certain of."

"You don't get that feeling often do you?" the thought occurred to him. "I mean, you are usually sure about everything you set your mind to."

"That's correct," she nodded without a shred of pride.

He chose his next words carefully, "Okay, well, when I don't know what to do next, or when I'm unsure of myself I usually talk to someone. You know, bounce it of them and see what they think."

"An objective observer?" she attempted to frame the concept in terms she understood.

"Right," he smiled, giving an encouraging squeeze.

"Who do you talk with?" she was curious.

"Well," he hedged, thinking that really he didn't go to other people for help all that often, "Pops sometimes. Or you."

"Because we are trustworthy?" she wanted to know, recalling several of the very intimate conversations and secrets they'd shared over the years.

"Because you're family," he said instead. "That's what families do for each other."

"So I should talk with you?" again, she was more curious than anything.

"When you're ready," his thumb drew lazy circles in the soft fabric of her tank top. "I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

Just that small permission relieved her of a burden she didn't realize she was carrying. So many of the men in her previous relationships had insisted she open up to them. That she rush her thoughts and feelings for the sake of "clearing the air" or whatever term they'd employed.

"Thank you," the words slipped out unchecked, but were heartfelt. That Booth was willing to allow her the time she needed to process things in her own way meant the world to her and served as yet another proof that a long-term relationship with him could be feasible.

What his words could not do, however, was calm her mind. Instead, she was more anxious to do something to abate the chaos churning within her. Anything.

"Go to the lab," Booth's words punctuated the silence as if he could read her mind. "You know you want to."

"But you don't want me to," she pointed out. "You've been averse to my keeping late hours for years."

"You're up," he said in between yawns. "And I'm exhausted. So you go do your bone whispering thing and clear your head and I'll get enough sleep for both of us."

"That's scientifically impossible," she teased, turning in his arms to face him.

"There's my girl," a wan smile spread across his face. "Go on," he kissed her firmly. "Go figure out what happened to Lauren. I'll sneak you some coffee in the morning."

B&B&B&B&B&B

When he arrived at the Jeffersonian the next morning, a steaming mug of her favorite blend in hand, he made a beeline for her office. There were no lights coming from the door and the blinds had been drawn so he eased the door open carefully and snuck in. Sure enough, the anthropologist was sound asleep on her couch, soft snores passing through her lips.

"Why are you staring at me, Booth?" she yawned widely, teetering wildly as she tried to sit up.

"Because you're beautiful first thing in the morning," he offered a charm smile and the coffee.

"Mmmm," she inhaled the aroma deeply, savoring it then looked questioningly up at him. "You're allowing me to drink this?"

"Bones, are you or are you not the same woman that sent me a thesis paper on the urban myth of avoiding coffee entirely just because you're pregnant."

"I sent you an email," she said primly, sipping the beverage.

"With annotated footnotes," he teasingly reminded her.

"I'm thorough," she shrugged with a hint of a playful smile. "Something you've never complained about in our bed."

"Mmmm," it was his turn to moan, unsure if it was the "our" or "bed" that turned him on more and not really caring. "Nope. Not complaining one bit."

She gave him a playful shove off the arm of her couch but instead of moving he shoved her back until there was enough room for him to sit beside her. They sat with shoulders touching, sipping their coffee and enjoying a companionable silence.

Brennan thought about the conversations she and the night watchman had had during the night and while she felt more relaxed than she had previously she wasn't sure she was ready to share her insecurities with Booth. True to his word, however, he didn't press her for any details on how the night had gone outside of the case. They talked about the preexisting injuries Brennan had discovered and Booth threw out a few theories for what could have happened to her.

As she was nearing end of her coffee Booth turned to her with a grin, "You up for some fieldwork, Bones?"

She nodded eagerly, setting the empty cup to the side and rising to her feet as fluidly as her belly would allow.

"Right then," Booth hopped up spryly, "let's go see what this helicopter guy can tell us."