A/N Hello faithful readers - thank you so much for reading and reviewing. If there was no one reading there would really be no point in writing. I, myself, am a faithful reader. The last couple weeks have been particularly hard and I am sure I owe my sanity to those writers who have given me an escape. Thank you :)

So, here it is, the next chapter. Let me know what you think. What you liked, what you didn't. In the meantime I will go bury myself in Need chapter 30.


It felt like a walk through the thick fog of the Guatemalan Cloud Forests as she tried to sort her own thoughts. It had been easier, in the SUV on the drive over. Booth let her be with the exception of holding her hand, which she appreciated. His touch was a tether. The roughness of his thumb as it moved back and forth across her knuckles kept her tied to this world as she walked mentally through a forced flashback. Desperately, she tried to remember what might be on that idiotic recording. Flashes so unclear that she couldn't tell if they were memories or her own imaginations of what she might have said or done.

Far too quickly they were there at the Hoover, the loud ding of the elevator door signaled the dump of thousands of other voices and noises. They poked holes in her search for the truth of that night as interference and distractions streamed in. It was irritating, annoying. Shortly they would meet with Sweets. It was only logical that the meeting would center on the recording. They knew, Booth and Sweets, they had heard the recording. She didn't know, she hadn't heard it. She hated that.

Shaw's high pitchy voice cut through the mix demanding attention as she caught them coming out of the elevator.

"Agent Booth." She hailed.

Brennan couldn't help herself as her mind wandered from the heavy work of trying to remember what was on the audio file to Shaw's voice. She sounds so young like she is still just a kid, she thought, so full of ums and uhs and yeahs. Her speech pattern belied her.She wanted to laugh when she heard her say, "yes sir" to Booth repeatedly. Although it was certainly appropriate, it gave him the respect and honor his position demanded. It dated them, she and Booth had grown up together in so many ways over their years as partners.

Shaw droned on. She talked about forensic accountant reports as Brennan saw herself curled in Booth's arms, in his jacket, in the alley. Her blouse had been ripped. She remembered being worried that Booth would be uncomfortable because of her exposed body. As it turned out, he would see more of her that night as he steadied her through the horrible process of the rape kit. In hindsight the torn blouse seemed like such a silly thing to worry about.

The stench of garbage hung heavy in the air and vomit, she smelt vomit, her own. So real, so acrid was the memory that she felt herself swallow the bile that rose up in her throat. She tried to pull back away from the memory. Attaching herself to the young agent's voice, she brought herself back into the present.

"Yeah, I can do that." Shaw said. In the interest of time Booth wanted her to sum up the report quickly.

"Uh, they are having a hard time following the money trail, Sir. It looks like funding from several different sources. They're trying to establish a money loop. Um, the report says the Phelps family claims an anonymous donor paid for the bond. Someone that believes in their son's innocence as much as they do."

Brennan never understood how people could stare truth in the face and deny it so boldly. Science doesn't lie. DNA tests don't lie. Sometimes she felt like she was the only one in the world who was solely interested in knowing the truth, regardless of what it offered up.

"They are going to keep working on it, Sir." Shaw was agitated. She shifted her weight and chewed on her lip.

Back into the alley, back into Booth's arms, she slipped through the fog as she struggled to remember before it was time to meet with Sweets. She told Booth she loved him. She was almost sure of it. A confession from the heart under the influence of drugs and in desperate circumstances. Blood rushed to her face, her ears burnt, she was sure she blushed. She stiffened, standing up straighter, hardened her expression. Sure that her thoughts were written clearly on her face. She tried to hide it. God, Sweets heard that. That was hers, it was hers and Booth's, and Sweets heard it.

Booth held up his hand to Agent Shaw indicating he wanted her to stop for a moment.

"You okay, Bones?" Booth's rich low voice cut through the strange mix of past and present that held her captive.

Nodding, she answered firmly, "Yes. Booth, I'm fine." Stated as if the it was a ridiculous question.

"Um, there's one more thing, Sir." Agent Shaw continued as they all walked into his office. "They're having problems with the ankle monitor for Phelps. I thought you'd want to be aware of it."

Exhaustion filled his eyes as he braced for yet another burden to be hung on his shoulders.

"Problems? What kind of problems?" Stated so matter-of-fact, as if it was just any other case. Bones knew him better though, could feel him take on the burden. He looked at her, right at her. He wanted to make sure she was listening to the possible risk here and she knew it. He wanted her to hear from someone else that there was real danger, not just an imagined threat driving his obsession with her safety.

"It seems to go down frequently, Sir. Um, they've replaced the band three times so far."

"Those damned things are never reliable, no matter what they say."

"Yeah, um I guess it just loses signal, from what they've said, disappears off of the monitoring system completely. Sometimes it comes back up quickly, sometimes it doesn't."

Booth was leaning against his desk, arms folded across his chest, his frustration barely contained.

Shaw continued trying to sound reassuring. "Um, the agents assigned always do a physical check on the suspect when it goes down, Sir. He's been in the house every time." He nodded blankly, letting Shaw know he understood.

It amused her that the young agent wanted so deeply to please her mentor. She had never been that way herself. She'd always been fiercely competitive, challenging those that thought they were above her. She couldn't remember ever trying to please a mentor the way that Shaw sought Booth's approbation.

She was settled in one of Booth's chairs by the time Shaw finally left. Her gaze followed the young agent as she passed by the glass walls of Booth's office. It snapped back to Booth as he pulled a chair close to hers and sat down.

"You want to tell me what's going on?"

Her expression was flat, her eyes darted across his face.

"You know what I'm talking about, Bones?" His voice was gentle, entreating.

"I know what you're talking about." She took a deep breath, she hadn't realized how much she needed the air. She must have been subconsciously holding her breath.

He scooted closer and took her hands in his, then waited.

"I can't remember what's on that recording, Booth, I remember bits and pieces of being in the alley with you but not much." Sweets was coming soon and she would be the only one in the room that didn't know what she herself had said. Booth didn't seem to understand her frustration.

"I don't expect you do remember, Bones, that's part of the reason I recorded it. I knew you would forget most of it because of the drugs." She pulled her hands away from him. She didn't want to be comforted.

"Yes, but you know what's on it and I don't. I don't. It's me, my voice, my thoughts, my experience, my...feelings," She cringed at that last word as she said it, "and I don't remember. Even Sweets knows. You know and Sweets knows and I don't." Her hands made a loud slapping sound as they fell in exasperation to her lap. Loud enough that as Booth's eyes scanned the bullpen he saw several people turn and look to see what was happening.

"No one expects you to remember. It's okay that you don't remember."

In deliberately hushed tones he consoled her. After listening to it that morning he, himself, couldn't help think maybe it was better that she didn't remember but he knew he couldn't tell her that.

"It's not okay with me, Booth. I am pretty sure I told you I loved you." She sounded desperate. "Sweets heard that."

"Look at me." He pulled her gaze up by gently lifting her chin. "I don't care that he heard that."

"That's ours, it's supposed to be just between us. You taught me that." She took all his rules to heart.

"It's okay, Bones, you're right it is ours but under the circumstances it's okay that he knows. That part isn't what he's focusing on anyways. His focus is on piecing together details from the attack, putting together a profile, and gathering evidence that could get us a warrant."

Still uneasy, she met his gaze and held it as she chewed on her lip. He palmed the side of her face, his thumb gently ran across her cheek. They were interrupted by the sound of a soft tap on the metal office door frame. Without acknowledging Sweets he held her eyes fixed to his.

"We okay?"

"Yes." She stated. "Yes." With that Booth stood and motioned for Sweets to join them. He was the second person that hour to look back and forth between the two waiting for Booth to give him permission the speak freely in front of Dr. Brennan. It aggravated her.

"Dr. Brennan, it's good to see you." The poor boy looked stumped. Clearly he'd expected to meet with Booth alone. "Hey," he motioned towards Booth, "Can I meet with you privately for a few minutes?"

Silent conversations, Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan were notorious for them. Nods, raised eyebrows, facial ticks, smirks, they had a whole little language all their own. It drove Sweets mad. It was happening now. He sought permission to meet with Sweets without her. She gave in, though there was an obvious reluctance. Irritation glared back at him.

"Yeah," Booth agreed and the two men made their way to the conference room just down the hall. As Booth walked away he looked back over his shoulder at her, held her gaze to the last second.

"I listened to the recording." Sweets got right to the point. Today Booth appreciated that. "There are pieces there but really, dude, I mean they're just pieces. I think they may mean more if I could interview this Ian Chambers guy face to face. But I don't think we should just have him brought in for questioning."

Booth had reached his limit for the day. "You want to question him but you don't think we should have him brought in for questioning." His mounting frustration came out in his tone.

"I think," Sweets began. "I think he is a narcissist, mega ego, and I think we need to play to that, use it against him."

Booth leaned on the conference room table. He looked up and Sweets waiting for more.

"You said he's a cultural anthropologist, right?"

"Yeah, that's what Bones said."

"And his field of study has been centered on rape, specifically gang rape?"

Booth nodded, yes.

"I think I should invite him here to help us by sharing his knowledge in his field of study."

"To do that we are going to end up revealing our hand, Sweets. He's going to end up knowing everything we know. I'm not comfortable with that."

"If I had him in front of me, Booth, I could get a better feel of him, appeal to his ego, get him to slip."

Booth hesitance was written all over his expression.

"I tell you what, just think about it for now. Let it sit at least overnight. I think it's a solid plan."

Booth rubbed his face with both hands. He huffed out a long deep guttural sigh. Sweets slid the thumb drive that held the recording across the table to Booth.

"There's nothing on those recordings that is going to get you the warrant you want by itself, nothing."

Booth picked up the drive and pocketed it. He paced, having pulled a poker chip out of his pocket he flipped it as he beat a path back and forth across the room. He flipped and caught it over and over.

Sweets watched, Booth obviously deep in thought.

Booth stopped and rubbed his brow.

"Just, you know, think about it. It's just an idea."

Booth nodded. He was about to leave when Sweets started in again.

"So, you told her about the recording?"

"Of course."

"And she wants to listen to it?" Booth shot him a look, a back off look.

"There's several places on there where it sounds muffled, like she's was..." He mimicked a patting motion against his chest. "I've noticed that she does that when she's trying to get you to understand something she's having a hard time verbalizing or explaining. See if she can remember what she was trying to say in those spots. She sounds more intense, purposeful, in those spots"

Booth nodded.

"So," Sweets dragged the word out purposefully. "Dr. Brennan made a pretty clear statement of affection towards you on those recordings. How are things going between you two?"

"Nope, not going there Sweets. Not gonna happen."

"Awe, come on. I know you heard it too."

He turned quickly on the young agent, crowded him physically, backed him up. There was a clear element of intimidation in play.

"That's between me and Bones, understand? You need to forget anything that was on that recording that wasn't case related. Got it?"

Sweets nodding vigorously. Booth turned abruptly and walked away then stopped and turned back and looked at Sweets.

"I mean it and don't bring it up to Bones. Don't even think about it."

Sweets raised his hands up high in the air, surrendered.

"I won't, man, I won't." He tried to laugh it off.

Booth was tired, too tired to laugh anything off, especially this. "Not a word." He said as he walked out. He got about 5 feet away and remembered he hadn't told Sweets or Shaw about the discovery that they had made today.

"Sweets." He called out and motioned that he needed to talk to him again. "I forgot something." he let out another long breath as he tried to figure out whether to include Bones. It was, after all her discovery but wasn't supposed to be working the case. He decided to go with a neutral statement.

"The commonality between all the victims, it's their height and weight, their build. They're all basically Bones." Sweets could see the pain in Booth's eyes as he detailed the discovery.

"That's wretched, man, I'm sorry."

Booth stared at him, his eyebrows scrunched. One minute the boy was a genius the next he sounded like surfer. He shook his head.

"Can you let Shaw know? I'm beat, we're going home."

Sweets smirked. Booth could avoid the topic all he wanted, they both could; but, statements like that confirmed all his suspicions about their relationship.

"Sure, I'll let her know."

By the time he got back to his office Bones was pouring over the case files again. He put his hand on her shoulder tenderly. When he had her attention he pulled the file from her hand, closed it, and set it down with the others.

"Come on, Bones, we're going home." Without a word she stood, gathered her belongings, and walked out the door with his hand pressed to her back.

As the elevator doors closed she turned to Booth and drilled him with and insistent expression.

"We'll listen when we get home." There was no questioning tone in her voice, just a firm declaration. Her eyes sought his confirmation with the slightest lift of her eyebrow.

In his pocket his fist clinched tightly around the thumb drive. His heart clinched at the determined look in her eyes and his stomach at the thought of her hearing herself lost in the trauma of that night.

"Yeah, of course, Bones."

Releasing his grip on the drive and reached for her hand, intertwined his fingers with hers, and squeezed.

"Together." He whispered.