A/N Well, because of the reviews, I guess I should write just one more piece before I stop- I repeat, this is not a sign that I shall be developing all the characters, as most reviewers urge me to. I'm not sure if I can do it, honestly. I've just realized how many people on read fics and don't leave reviews… I have over a thousand hits on this fic, but only 16 reviews- Oh well, I guess my work is for a person with different tastes from the mainstream. But enough whining! Moving on… this will probably be the worst.

Disclaimer: Even if I use my best charm-smile on fate, she still wouldn't let me own this show.


Crash And Burn

They were talking again.

It was infuriating, sometimes- how the two of them could just talk and talk and talk for hours on end, living in their own little world.

Angela never did that with any of the guys she had gone out with- heck; she didn't even do pillow talk.

Knowing the two, they were probably either whispering in each other's ear sweet nothings about the night sky or arguing over the stars.

And the scary thing was, when they were the ones in question, she never could tell which of the two conversations they enjoyed more.

She was supposed to be the worldly one. The socialite, the woman of experience and liberties; and, for all intents and purposes, she really was more upbeat when it came to the cabaret called life than her best friend.

But then again, even the corpses their jobs provided them with were social butterflies and libertines when compared to Brennan. Anyone was.

And that's why she had taken it upon herself to relieve her friend of the self-inflicted loneliness she had locked herself in- regardless of the kicking and screaming.

She had gone at them for months. Hounding their every step, observing every nuance of contact and rapport- and of course, bringing said tidbits to both of their attention.

She had played the game like a woman on a mission- but no one could outrun exhaustion. It had finally come to the point where she was ready to give up- her victims unyielding.

It had seemed such a waste; she had wished her friend the happiness denied her for so long- until fate had finally decided to give her match-making efforts a hand.

And then, naturally, like some predestined chemical reaction, the two had just clicked. It was like some sort of switch had been flicked on.

But with all the sparks and fireworks and dead stars flying around, Angela- the woman of the world- learned a very hard lesson from her cabaret.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Because now, after her constant prodding had finally paid off, instead of feeling things like elation or relief or whatever else- all she could feel was jealousy.

Not that she was jealous of Booth- she had known as sure as autumn as soon as he had walked into their lab the first time that the guy was reserved for someone else.

It didn't matter that no one else- including him- had realized it.

But she was jealous of their relationship. Of what it meant.

A lasting bond. A bridge forged on pasts and different opinions and coffee and dead bodies.

And she knew that she would probably never have that. Never form that special connection with someone else.

Her own best friend's novel spoke about how she was doomed to a life of loneliness because all she cared about was instant gratification.

Angela knew that Tempe had not meant to hurt her with what she had written. But she had.

It had hurt not because it seemed thoughtless; but because she knew that it was true. A cold clinical fact.

She seemed to know a lot of things. She was an artist, after all- she painted the links between the bones in skeletons of truth and evidence.

But it didn't make her less aware that her relationships were just pathetic flickers- shooting stars- while their bond burned like some sun in some galaxy- heavenly bodies that you can only find when you were gazing at the wet summer sky with someone you love.

Shooting stars were only good for one wish. And she'd already used hers up.

She stood behind them, not really caring about how long, thinking of all the things she knew she'd never find.

Unshed, Angela's tears remorsefully reflected what she was seeing- her best friend smiling while the man she loved offered her the stars.


A/N: Like it? It was kinda hard. Hope I didn't disappoint too much.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, kudos to Elizabeth Theresa for giving me a very good outtake on Parker.

The flicked switch line is a homage to Caroline- one of the best fic writers in this fandom.

See you guys next time. Please review this chapter and the ones before- so few commented on my Zach piece. I don't drink coffee, so the only things that keep me alive are reviews!