Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews to the last chapter! I always appreciate it when people take the time to give me feedback. Believe it or not, it really does help me. Okay, now, about this chapter-I make a reference in this chapter to a killer called the Zodiac. The Zodiac was a real serial killer who was never caught. He sent taunting letters to the police and the media, complete with codes and sheets for decoding. If you want to know more about him, drop me a PM or go to Court TV Crime Library. Anyway, I think that's all you need to know for this one. I hope you like it! Go ahead and read.

"I can't believe you talked to a witness without me!"

Temperance sighed, allowing the cool fall breeze to tangle through her hair as she and Booth rode down the highway. She closed her eyes for the briefest moments, taking a deep breath as the last streaks of orange-gold sunshine caressed the landscape. The scent of leaves and grass was almost enough to block out the annoyance in Booth's voice.

Almost. "You're not a member of the FBI! You have no right to interrogate witnesses! Not to mention the fact that you didn't tell anyone beforehand! Christ, Bones, anything could have happened to you and it would have been hours before anyone knew! I mean, what were you thinking?"

Temperance took a deep breath, trying to keep her tone rational. "First of all, she isn't a witness. We don't think she saw anything. She's just a reference. Secondly, I did call you, and I left you a message telling you where I was. If anyone had wanted to find me, they would have needed to look no further than your answering machine. And, on top of all that, need I remind you that I am an adult, capable of taking care of myself. I met a woman for lunch. It may shock you to learn this, but adult women have met for lunch before. It's not a cause for alarm."

"It's not your job to talk to the suspects!"

"She's not a suspect! She's a reference. It is my job to conduct research!" Swallowing a breath, Temperance willed herself to calm down. Her cool rationality was slowly being eradicated by her growing annoyance.

"You were still out of line! What if she wants to hide something? If you get her spooked, we could lose contact!"

"What do you mean 'if I get her spooked'? What are you trying to imply?"

"That it's not your place to talk to witnesses!"

"She isn't a witness! And for God's sake, would you PLEASE stop yelling at me! I am not a child!"

Booth was quiet for almost a full second. "It still is not your place!"

"BOOTH!"

Booth slouched back in the passenger seat, still grumbling, his words mumbled to low for Temperance to hear. Temperance sighed. "Look, I told her it wasn't a formal interview, alright? I told her that I didn't technically have the authority to conduct a full formal interview, and that you would have to talk to her."

Booth remained sullen, and Temperance gave an exaggerated eye roll. "God, Booth, it seems like you should be happy about this! I told you, we got along really well. It can only help our case if she feels comfortable around me! She'll be more willing to share things with me if she feels like she can trust me!"

"Pretend I slapped my forehead for not realizing that sooner."

Temperance released a loud, frustrated sigh. "Fine. Sit there and sulk. I don't care." And with that, the two finished out the ride home in an irritated silence.

When Temperance pulled her car in front of her apartment building, Booth broke the chilly quiet. "Um, aren't you forgetting something?"

Temperance glanced at him. "What?"

"Uh, hello? Did you forget that I need a ride home? That I don't live here?"

Temperance remained poker faced, her anger with his paternal attitude controlling the words that came from her mouth. "No. I figured you could walk from here."

Booth looked at her in disbelief, and she shrugged. "Call a cab if you want. I don't care. I'm going inside." And with that, she climbed out of the car and left an openmouthed Booth sitting in the driveway.

After unlocking her apartment door and letting herself in, Temperance had to make a conscious effort not to glance down and see if Booth was still sitting outside. 'He's a jerk,' she told herself. 'I'm not going to worry about how he's getting home. He can sit out there all night for all I care.' Mentally congratulating herself for her iron resolve, Temperance wandered over to her answering machine to check her messages.

There were three. One from her editor, the chipper and yet strained voice reminding her that her next draft was being eagerly anticipated; one brief message from Angela requesting a call back; one hang up. Opting to return the call to Angela, Temperance grabbed the phone and punched in her friend's number.

"Hello?" Angela sounded weary.

"Hey, Ange."

Angela's voice lightened almost imperceptibly when she heard Temperance's voice. "Hey, Sweetie."

"I just got your message. What's going on?"

"Nothing really, just wanted to see what you were up to tomorrow night."

"Working on this case, I guess."

"Or working on your book?"

"Yeah. Or that."

"What's the deal there? You don't seem real into writing these days."

"I'm not," Temperance answered simply.

"Ah." Angela hesitated for a moment. "But in either case, you're working, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so, why?"

"I was thinking I could get us some junk food and we could have a girl's night."

"That sounds fun."

"I'll get pizza and chips, we can bring our laptops..."

Temperance smiled. She knew Angela didn't really approve of her habit of working on the weekends, but her friend was also nice enough to allow her to construct her life as she so chose. "Aren't you going to be bored?"

"Nah. I have work to catch up on too, actually. And I can rent us a movie that I'll watch and you'll ignore."

"Don't you usually go out on Saturday nights?"

"Not in the mood."

"That's not like you."

"What can I say? I'm a fickle person."

"A fickle person who caught Zach's cold."

"I'm not sick."

"Sure."

There was a beat of silence that Temperance considered to be Angela's way of conceding. With a smile, Temperance spoke again. "So, what time do you want to come by?"

"Around 7?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you then."

"Looking forward to it. Night, Sweetie."

"Night, Ange." And with that the two clicked off the line.

After completing her conversation with Angela, Temperance set about the task of making dinner. She micro-zapped a frozen burrito and popped open a can of Sprite. Nutrition is so overrated.

After organizing her high quality meal onto a plate and grabbing a napkin, Temperance dropped everything onto her table and promptly ignored it as she began spreading out her notes on the case. She eyed the note that had been on her desk that morning and reminded herself that she had forgotten to give it to Booth. Too late now. She opened her laptop, plugged the cable into the wall, and began the tedious task of organizing her facts.

About three hours later, Temperance's burrito was uneaten and cold, her Sprite was flat and warm, and her eyes were heavy and tired. She sighed. She had been working on the note for the last two hours and was still drawing a blank on ideas for what it meant and for who sent it.

She pulled away from her task when she heard a gentle rapping on her door. Standing and taking a moment to briefly stretch, she padded to the doorway and glanced through the peephole.

She pulled the door opened to find a sheepish looking Seeley Booth. Crossing her arms over the chest, she quirked an eyebrow at him, offering no greeting.

"I'm sorry?" He tried.

Temperance still didn't speak.

"I was an idiot?"

"Keep going."

"A jerk?"

"And?"

"And…a real ass?"

Temperance sighed. "Fine. Apology accepted."

Booth smiled, and Temperance was surprised to note that his smile spread to her face. "So, what are you doing here?" She asked, holding the door open in such a way that he knew he was invited in.

He stepped into the room. "I actually needed a favor."

She raised her eyebrow again. "That was pretty bold."

Booth flashed his charm smile. "I knew once I got here you wouldn't be able to resist me."

Temperance rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Temperance was quiet for a beat. "Sorry, Booth, there's not a whole lot I can do about that."

Now it was Booth's turn to roll his eyes. "I have Parker this weekend, remember? Only my car broke down. I was supposed to pick him up this afternoon, but I called Rebecca and told her I wouldn't be able to get him 'til tomorrow. The only catch is, I still won't have a car." Charm smile.

"Oh, I see, so you just came over here and apologized so that I would lend you my car?"

Booth looked sheepish. "Well, no, not really…"

Temperance laughed slightly. "Fine. You can use it." Booth smiled and Temperance continued. "But I'll have you know, the only reason I'm doing this is because I like Parker. You I'm still on the fence about."

Booth smiled. "I'm sure I'll eventually win you over."

"Shouldn't the FBI have given you another car by now?" Temperance asked, ignoring his comment.

"Apparently there has been a run on FBI vehicles this week. One agent smashed his up in an accident, one had his tires slashed, and then mine." Booth shrugged. "They probably could have gotten me a car, but I told them it wasn't a big deal."

Temperance paused for a moment. "Why would you do that?"

Booth, realizing his statement, began to blush ever so slightly. "Well, you know, we're partners and all, so I figured if anything relevant to the case happened, I could just ride with you."

"So, basically you told the FBI not to give you a new car because you figured you could just steal mine?"

Booth, coming back to himself slightly, flashed Temperance a smile. "Basically." Temperance had to give a slight smile in return. "And also the repairs to my SUV shouldn't take long. It'll be ready on Monday, Tuesday at the latest. I figured you could put up with me 'til then." Broad smile.

Temperance chuckled under her breath, and Booth's gaze landed on the table, which was strewn with paper and uneaten food. "Working on the case?" He asked.

"In theory," she answered, walking back toward her chair.

Booth followed. "Do you have the note you told me about?"

Temperance fished it out of the stack and handed it to him. "Knock yourself out. I have no idea what it means."

Booth creased his forehead and read through the message several times. A short while later he spoke, his eyes still glued to the sheet. "Whoever it is, they're either incredibly smart or incredibly stupid."

Temperance glanced at him. "How does that help us?"

Booth looked up. "It doesn't. At least not yet. Maybe it will eventually."

Temperance seemed to contemplate this for a moment, and then refocused her attention back on her computer screen where she had brainstormed ideas on the note. "There were shorter sentences in the second note," she commented.

"And this time the killer almost seemed to warn us that more murders are coming."

Temperance nodded. "Strange almost poetic quality in both cases."

"And, of course, the capitalization."

Temperance nodded. "An anagram? A code of some kind? Or just random selections to throw us off?"

Booth shrugged. "It seems significant, but it also seems obvious. You said the body had been in that grave for about a year. A year is a long time to go without detection; this guy wasn't even on our radar. 'Obvious' doesn't seem like his style."

"Then what's the point?"

Booth shrugged again, turning his palms upward. "A distraction? I don't know. It just doesn't seem to fit."

"Maybe that's the point. The killer is getting away with things; maybe he or she likes a challenge. Maybe the notes are a taunt and the letters are an anagram. Maybe this guy sees himself as the next Zodiac."

"I'd say this guy is a bit more simplistic than the Zodiac."

Temperance and Booth sat quietly for a moment, thinking. A few more minutes of silence ensued, and soon Temperance found herself yawning. Booth looked up at her and smiled.

"I guess I better get going. You're tired."

"I'm not," yawn, "tired."

Booth smiled. "I can see that."

When he started to stand to leave, Temperance had a moment of constriction in her chest. "Wait, don't go yet." The words were out of her mouth before she had thought them through.

Booth paused, glancing at her. Seeing his expression, Temperance fumbled for an explanation to her words. "I mean, we could do some more work on the case."

Booth's confused expression softened. "It's late, Bones. We're both tired. Why don't we just call it a night? We can work on this later."

Temperance nodded somewhat reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess."

Booth smiled. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll work it out." He gave her a wink that caused an involuntary flutter in her stomach that she chose not to analyze. "We always do."

Temperance smiled back at him, and after bidding their goodnights, she twisted her car key off the ring and handed it to Booth. With one last round of pleasantries and a somewhat awkward hug, he left.

She stood at the door for a moment after she had closed it behind him, allowing her hand to rest on the cool wood. She wished that he hadn't left. As needy as it sounded, Temperance realized that she had wanted him to ask to stay. She wanted him to want to stay. She was annoyed by her own desire.

The truth was she didn't want him to stay just because she was attracted to him. Yes, Booth was handsome, and she wasn't blind, but the fact of the matter was she simply didn't want to be alone. She was dreading turning out the light and curling up under the sheets, left naked to her mind. She knew that the nightmare could return, and with Booth out of the house, she knew that there was no one to go to, no comforting presence in the living room for her to sit with to make it alright. She suddenly had a moment of regression: she wanted to be five years old again, curled up with a teddy bear beside her mother, being told that the bad dreams would go away. She glanced around her quiet apartment. There was no one there to smooth the hair on her forehead and tell her that it would all be okay.

With a sigh, Temperance threw her uneaten dinner in the trash the poured the stale Sprite down the drain. Straightening up the papers into neat stacks on her table and shutting down her computer, she began turning off lights and preparing for bed. Twenty minutes later she found herself lying the dark, eyes wide open, listening intently to the silence. Almost nervously, she closed her eyes and willed herself to go to sleep.

Want to make me happy? All you have to do is hit that little button