Here's the latest installment – I hope you enjoy! Thank you everyone for the reviews and the continued support of this story!

-Gret

Chapter 28

Brennan sat in Sweets' office, fully annoyed. And it was only seven thirty in the morning. Because of a silly video tape made by a deceased killer, she was forced to undergo psychological analysis. It was highly unfair. She had more important things she could be doing at the lab.

Plus… it was uncomfortable that one emotional moment when alone with a killer had been uncovered by… well, by her friends. Booth and Sweets at least. They knew about this dark moment from fifteen years ago. And because they have trouble compartmentalizing they obviously assumed she did as well and were forcing her into more therapy. As if she needed it. She knew that that experience hadn't affected her or shaped her. It didn't scare her. She certainly wasn't afraid of sexual intercourse or men. She hadn't become a delinquent over it.

Why they felt she needed to discuss it just irked her.

"Dr. Brennan," Sweets prodded, too gently. Like she was a breakable doll marked Fragile. "As we discussed, this case has been incredibly distressing. For starters, you and Agent Booth went through a lot on a personal level, with him discovering your pregnancy. It was also your first case back. He was in a relationship. His girlfriend bullied you. He broke up with her. The two of you had… a moment."

"I know I hit my head in my fight with that fake cop, Sweets, but it appears that someone has given you the impression that I suffer from memory loss."

"I'm sorry?" he asked, confused.

"You're dictating to me the details of what happened in my own life recently."

He sat back and regarded her closely. "I'm just explaining why I believe this case was especially trying for you. Professionally it was almost typical. Except that the killer was revealed to be someone from your past, and he turned his attention on you—"

"—you're still telling me things about my own life that I already know, Sweets."

"Dr. Brennan," he said, sounding more frustrated now. "Do you think that this case was slightly different than your normal, run-of-the-mill case?"

She thought about that and had to admit that it obviously was. And for all of the reasons that Sweets had listed. "Yes," she admitted grudgingly. "This case was… emotional, I guess."

He sat forward, his frustration gone. Now he looked happy he was making progress. "Can we talk about it a little bit?"

She sighed. "Well, you've suspended me from field work with the FBI for two weeks, and have forced me to attend all of these extra sessions with the understanding that if I fail to comply you might not let me resume field work until after I've delivered my baby, so yes, it seems that we can talk about anything."

Sweets nodded but said nothing. He just stared at her. She hated when he did that. It made her uncomfortable. If he just told her what it was he wanted to hear her say, she'd gladly say it.

She folded her hands comfortably over her growing belly and looked at Sweets for some long, interminable moments, before finally speaking.

"I've decided to find Booth a woman."

To say that Sweets looked surprised at the words she chose to say would be an understatement. But after his look of shock wore off, comprehension seemed to dawn. "Why not let Agent Booth pick his own… woman?"

Brennan shrugged. "I am carrying Booth's child. He will undoubtedly try to do the noble thing. Pretend to love me. Marry me even."

Sweets considered this for a long moment. "What if he weren't pretending?" he asked.

She had no answer to that. But she did have her own plan and she intended to see it through. "I believe that the perfect woman for him would be somewhat like Hannah," she said excitedly. "Blonde hair, dark eyes, beautiful smile, intelligent, funny, very normal, socially-acceptable."

Even as she spoke, even as she smiled, describing Booth's perfect mate – a woman as different from her as can be – felt like a stab wound to the heart.

Sweets had a somewhat pained look in his own eyes, too. She wondered why that was.

"Booth didn't seem to like Hannah much in the end," he said eventually.

"Because she was a little too immature and insecure," Brennan informed him. "Booth values his friendships. I will ensure this dream woman is like Hannah but more mature, secure and able to immerse herself happily into his life. I will ensure she won't try to alienate any of his friends."

Sweets sat back. Brennan didn't know exactly what it was he'd been hoping to hear her say. But based on his facial expression, this wasn't it. Plus, he seemed frustrated.

Well, she was frustrated at this awkward therapy session too. At least they were even.

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Booth was bored. Doing fieldwork without Bones was not nearly as much fun as listening to her make anthropological observations at every stop, say socially inappropriate things that he had to stop her from continuing in front of the local PD's and families of victims. In general, everything was better when she was around.

But… at least she was safe. During their last case, that was not the case, and he was still reeling from what a nightmare that one had turned into.

He knew she needed the time off. He was the one who'd asked Sweets to suspend her from the field for a couple weeks. He was the one who'd asked Sweets to force her into extra sessions so she might be able to process everything and deal with it. He also hoped that Sweets could help her realize that the final words that had spilled from the lips of her ex-foster brother were just the desperate ravings of a mad man… and so far from the truth it wasn't funny.

He could tell already that she had bought into what the killer had said to her. All of it. She'd become resigned. She'd put up a wall between herself and him that seemed almost as high as the one that had been between them when they'd first started working together years ago.

One day they'd been kissing and the next… she was pushing him away. Seeming to think he deserved better.

It made him sick. So he took action.

Bones didn't need to know that Booth was behind her field suspension. She'd never understand. She just needed emotional support. And in the two days since the tape had been handed over to the FBI, she hadn't opened up to him herself about any of it.

He had spoke to Hacker about the tape the day after he'd viewed it. He'd explained that it was a personal tape, not evidence – that it only contained personal information that Bones didn't need floating around the FBI. Since Hacker assumed that Booth might be stretching the truth for his partner, Booth was forced to bring Sweets into the mix. Sweets viewed the tape in private and stood by Booth, thankfully, dismissing the tape as evidence, deeming it personal – and Hacker, never viewing the tape, docked it from the evidence log.

Booth had appreciated his superior's actions. The tape was gone now. But… what remained was its effects. That man had shaken up Bones's whole world. He'd thrown her into the darkest corner of her past. And he'd scared her about everything that was happening in her life now, too. In his final moments, he'd really managed to do a number on his partner, without even laying a hand on her.

Booth sat at his desk, tiredly. He really wanted to see Bones. He had no real excuse, and he was trying to give her space per Sweets' latest suggestion. But he really missed her. The current case was an easy one too. He could already tell. It would be mostly paperwork.

It gave him the time he needed to pursue another more personal project. Hesitantly, he pulled a stack of files out of the bottom drawer of his desk. The files were from Bones's foster experience. And he was on a mission. He was looking for one very specific foster brother.

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Brennan walked into Angela and Hodgins' kitchen, pleased at the warmth it held. Her own kitchen felt kind of cold and lonely. Like her. This kitchen was brightly painted, with ceramic bowls and mugs on various surfaces. The little girl coloring at the table also made it feel warmer than her own kitchen.

Brennan walked over to the little girl and sat down. "What are you working on, Gigi?" she asked gently.

The little girl looked up, her blue, slightly slanted eyes, wide and curious. And very sweet. "It's a picture of my family," she said. She looked back down at her handiwork. "You know, when I was at the orphanage in Paris, when the girls would get a home, they'd draw pictures of their new families. All the time."

As she spoke, she became more animated, and something tugged at Brennan's heartstrings just listening to her.

"Now, I get a family and so I can draw pictures of my family, too. I have a whole book of us in different places," she continued. "In this one, we're at the lab. That's why we're all in long blue coats, see?"

Brennan smiled down, looking at her drawing. "Yes, that is very good attention to detail," she said seriously. "Your mother loves art, too," she said.

"She's really good at it," Gigi said, almost self-consciously, like she herself would never stand up to Angela in this way.

"She's been doing it since she was about your age. Maybe even older."

"Do you think she was she really good when she was my age?" Gigi asked.

"Maybe," Brennan answered honestly. "I didn't know her back then," she explained. "So I cannot answer your question knowledgeably."

The little girl looked a mix of disheartened and confused. Noticing this, Brennan quickly added, "But I'm sure you are just as good as she was at that age. And I do know for sure that when you practice something, you do improve over time. Unless of course you're a delinquent of some kind. Which you don't seem to be."

Gigi smiled uncertainly as Angela walked into the room. "Thanks, Bren," Angela said, smiling. "We don't think she's a delinquent either."

Brennan smiled, glad to have been helpful to their new child's seeming inferiority complex.

"How was your appointment with Sweets?" Angela asked.

Brennan flinched at the mention of the appointment. She didn't like to think about why she was being forced into more therapy. "It was fine," she said nonchalantly. "He still insists that I am not yet ready to return to the field with Booth."

Angela sat down and told Gigi to go get ready for dinner. After the girl was gone, she looked at Brennan sympathetically. "Maybe he's right, Bren. I mean, you've been through a lot. The baby has been through a lot," she added, glancing down at her belly and touching it gently. "You two girls need to take a week or two and just relax. Take it easy. The field can be a dangerous place—"

"—well this case was unique," Brennan said quickly.

"True. But it can be dangerous. And you've experienced more danger in the past week than anyone would ever be comfortable with. When you add your pregnancy to the mix, it makes sense you're being put on bed rest."

"I am not actually being forced to stay in bed. Just to have therapy and stay in the lab," Brennan pointed out.

"I meant metaphorically. They want you to relax and be safe. It's a good idea, and I, for one, am going to make sure you're as relaxed as can be."

Brennan smiled at her friend. She always felt so safe around Angela. Booth, too, though lately she felt more conflicted around him than ever – so Angela's presence was especially welcome.

"I'm very lucky to have you in my life, Ange," she said honestly.

"Right back at you."

The tender moment was interrupted by Brennan's cell phone. As something tightened in her stomach, she realized that she hoped that it was Booth. She hoped that maybe he'd still call her about case details. Or… just to say hi.

She missed him more than she thought was possible, considering she had just seem him two days before and was not a codependent person.

It was not Booth, however but a number she didn't recognize instead.

"Brennan," she answered.

"Hi, Dr. Brennan," answered a cheery female voice. "This is Lydia Romero. You emailed me about my matchmaking services."

Brennan's face lit up, even as something inside seemed to sink a little. "Yes! Lydia, thank you for calling me back."

She excused herself from the kitchen so she could talk away from Angela.

"I was calling about a friend that I am interested in setting up. He… he is a wonderful man," she explained. It felt like she had a lump in her throat, which was just odd since she knew that to be impossible. Just twenty seconds ago, talking to Angela, her throat felt fine.

"So you said in your letter," Lydia said. "As you know, MatchMake is the number one matchmaking service in the DC area so you are in luck. Does your friend know that you're hoping to set him up on dates?"

Brennan stared at the floor for a long moment. Something hurt inside, but she knew this was right. She closed her eyes briefly, willing away the ache. "No," she finally said. "He doesn't know. I'd like to keep that confidential."

"We can most certainly do that," Lydia said. "Based on your description, he sounds like an amazing man."

She swallowed. "He is. I just said that."

"Yes… I was just… well, never mind. I am going to send you information for three girls that I think might be well suited for Mr. Booth, along with their contact information. I've already been in touch with them about the situation – what with him being set up and not approaching this himself and they were all fine with you reaching out to them to set up a chance meeting."

"Great," Brennan said.

After hanging up the phone, she sighed and sat down on a chair in the living room, trying to fight back the tears that were welling in her eyes.

"What was that all about?" Angela asked, walking in on her private moment.

"That wasn't for you to hear, Ange," Brennan said quietly. Because she knew Angela. And she knew she'd get involved.

"Well, I happened to overhear it," Angela said coyly, making her way into the room. "Now, tell me what that was all about because you know that I'm not going anywhere, nor feeding you your favorite dinner, until you tell me everything."

Her friend sat down and fixed her with a serious, knowing look. "Just what are you up to?"