Author's Note: Okay, I'm officially the worst reviewer in the entire world. Okay? Happy now? I swear that from now on I'll post faster. Seriously. This nightmare of a semester is almost over, so I might have some time again. Having said that, thanks for all those who did review to the chapter I posted like 17 years ago. This chapter finally tells you what White Noise means...hmm, maybe that should have come up sooner :-) Anyway, hope it isn't terrible. If everyone has forgotten the plot to this I'll give recaps. Hope people are still a little bit interested! Sorry, guys. Okay, here you go.

While Temperance was busy trying to shake off the last remnants of her latest bad dream, Angela was sitting in her office preparing to live out her own bad dream, meaning she was preparing a way to tell Hodgins that she was currently pregnant with his child. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt as she watched her coffee—decaf, so what was the point, really?—grow cold. She ran over potential openers in her head.

'Hey, Hodgins! I've great news!' Nah, to excited. 'Hodgins, I have something really important that I need to talk to you about…' no, to ominous. 'Hey, Hodgins, have you ever seen Austin Powers? Remember Mini-Me? Well, what would you say if I told you…' definitely not. 'Hodgins, we're friends, right? And friends do stuff together, right? So, good news! We did something together!' No, too…something.

Angela sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead. This was getting her nowhere. How was she supposed to tell him something like this? Whether he wanted to be involved with this baby or not, it was a life changing situation. He would always be a father now, regardless of his interactions with the child. The DNA was there. There was no turning back. How would he feel when that reality took hold?

As Angela mused over these and other ideas, she began to hear the footsteps of the other Jeffersonian employees as they entered the building, gearing up for another day's work.

He would be getting here soon, she realized, and she pushed herself up from her seat and blew out a sigh as she began to pace. "Hodgins, I just want to tell you that…Hodgins, I need to talk to you about…hey, Hodgins, can I ask you something? Have you ever thought about…how do you feel about the colors pink and blue?..." she dismissed the words as quickly as they came out of her mouth.

Due to her pacing and muttering she failed to hear a new set of footsteps approaching her door.

"Hodgins, can I talk to you about something? It's kind of important…"

"What?" the voice made Angela jump.

"Hodgins! When did you get here?"

"About five minutes ago." He held up a file. "I meant to give you this yesterday, you forgot to sign it. Did you want to talk to me about something?"

Flustered, Angela accepted the file. "Oh, thanks. Um, no, I didn't need to talk to you really…"

Hodgins gave her a quizzical look. "But you just said 'Hodgins, I have something important to tell you'."

"Oh, no, I was just, um…nothing. No, I don't have anything to tell you."

Hodgins looked at her for a moment longer before shrugging. "Ookay then." He turned on his heel to leave, and as Angela took a steadying breath she felt certain that she heard him mutter "women" under his breath.

'Yeah,' she thought to herself as he left the room. 'This is going to be easy…'

Temperance's phone rang at 10am that morning.

"Brennan."

"Hello, Temperance? It's Ophelia Stone."

Surprised by the voice on the line, there was a beat of silence before Temperance answered. "Oh, hi, Ophelia. I was just about to call you."

"Listen, I wanted to call and apologize for yesterday. I know I left in a bit of a hurry, and I didn't mean to be rude."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Temperance answered.

"No, it isn't fine. I'm sorry for my behavior."

Temperance, unsure of what to say, remained quiet for a moment.

"Also, I'm sorry I left because there was something I wanted to talk to you about. Would you be able to meet me for lunch?"

Temperance, slightly surprised by the sudden conversation, answered slowly. "Sure. Lunch sounds fine. I was actually going to ask you if you could meet today, and I also wanted to ask you if you had any of your old fan mail? We're pursuing a lead and anything you might have could be helpful."

"Yeah, I think I have some old letters and stuff around here somewhere. Why don't you come by around 12:30?"

Temperance agreed, and after bidding the final pleasantries for the conversation, the women hung up the phone.

"Hey, Zach?"

Zach Addy looked up from the desk where he was currently working to find Hodgins standing in front of him. "Yeah?"

"Have you talked to Angela today?"

Zach shook his head. "No, why?"

Hodgins rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and shrugged. "I don't know, I talked to her earlier and she just seemed…weird. I didn't know if you knew what was going on."

Zach shrugged. "Maybe she's menstruating."

Hodgins paused and gave the young lab assistant a shocked stare. "Um…what?"

Zach calmly looked back at him, shrugging again. "It's a biological fact. When a woman is menstruating, her hormones shift. The result can sometimes be mood swings. Maybe that's why she seemed 'weird' when you talked to her earlier."

"Uh…I guess that could be true…"

"In fact, years ago in some cultures, when a woman was menstruating she was deemed 'unclean' and removed from society."

"Fascinating," Hodgins said, dryly. "Okay, I'm going to leave now…"

Zach nodded and returned his gaze to the work on his desk.

"And Zach?" Zach looked up at Hodgins. "Let's pretend we never had this conversation."

"Why?"

"Because I really want to forget it."

Angela paced around her office, her mind still going through possible scenarios of how Hodgins would react to her news. She was preparing comments for each situation. Anger? She had it covered—she would point out that he was involved, too, and how dare he be upset with her for something that they were equally to blame for. Sadness? No problem—she would tell him that a baby wasn't the end of the world. In fact, it was a good thing. It was a whole other person entering the world. He should be happy that he helped create that! Jubilation? Well…she didn't really have that one worked out yet. Of course, if he was for some reason wildly happy about the situation, she supposed her job was pretty much done for her. She glanced at her watch.

'Okay,' she told herself. 'He should be working right about now…I guess I should just go get this over with.' Adding a determined nod to that thought, she walked down the hall in search of Hodgins.

She found him a few minutes later, his eyes firmly attached to a microscope.

'Here we go,' she thought. 'Time to face the music. Bite the bullet.' She shifted her weigh from foot to foot, looking at him, but somehow unable to make herself speak. 'What are you doing, you idiot? Just talk to him!' Her mouth remained tightly shut.

After a few moments, Hodgins raised is head and placed a hand on the back of his neck, rotating slightly to work out the kinks. As he did so, his eyes landed on Angela, who was still rooted in place and staring at him.

"Uh…hi, Ange…" he said, surprised by her presence.

"Hi," she said, softly.

He looked at her for a moment, and when she didn't speak, he edged her on. "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, or are you just here to admire my beauty?"

This won him a small smile. "No, I just…uh…"

He sat quietly, waiting.

"I just was going to tell you that…um…" her eyes scanned the room, looking for somewhere to land.

"Are you okay, Ange?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just…I wanted to come tell you that…uh…I finished that facial reconstruction."

Hodgins gave her a quizzical look. "That's great, but shouldn't you be telling Dr. Brennan that?"

Angela, mentally slapping herself for her stupidity, nodded. "Yes, yes I should. I just wanted to let you know…you know, in case you wanted to see it, or something." Shut up, you idiot! "I mean, I don't know if it would help you, but maybe you would find it useful when you were working with the dirt particles." What are you doing? Would you just stop talking? "I mean, I know it's not scientific to call it 'dirt' but you know…so, um, if you wanted to see it…the face, I mean, I have it ready. I actually think that sometimes it helps to see the victim. It makes you feel more grounded in the case. Ha, grounded…dirt…no pun intended." Oh. My. God. Just leave. Please. Just walk out of the room while you still have a distant memory of your dignity. "I don't know if the face helps you in what you do with the particulates…maybe it doesn't help at all. I suppose it's best if we remain impersonal about what we do…so, you know what? Maybe you shouldn't look at the face. It might be better that way."

"Uh…"

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do, though. If you think you want to see the face, you can. I mean, I have it. Ready."

"Are you okay, Ange?"

She gave a firm nod. "Yes. I am. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go tell Bren that I have the face."

"Okay…"

She turned on her heel and headed out of the room. 'Well,' she thought, her cheeks burning red, 'That went well.'

Temperance walked into Angela's office at 12:00.

"Hey, Ange, I just wanted to tell you that…"

"Oh my God!" Angela said, jumping at the sound of Temperance's voice.

"What? What?"

Angela put a hand on her chest. "Nothing, sorry, you just startled me. I was…thinking about something and I guess I didn't hear you come in."

"Oh. Sorry. Anyway, I was just going to tell you that I'm going out for lunch today, and I'll probably be gone for most of the afternoon. I'll look over the face tomorrow."

"Okay," Angela said. "Sorry I yelled at you."

"It's okay. Have you told him yet?"

"What do you think?" Angela snapped.

"I think you'll be more pleasant when your hormones are back to normal."

Angela gave her a smile. "Sorry. No, I haven't told him yet. I'm going to, though. It's just…hard to tell him about something this huge, you know?"

Temperance nodded. "Just relax. I've got to go, but I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Angela nodded. "Okay."

"It's going to be okay, Ange."

"You keep saying that. Thanks, Sweetie."

Booth strolled into the Jeffersonian at 12:45. A quick trip to Temperance's office confirmed that she wasn't there, so he made his way down to Angela's to find out where his anthropologist had gone.

"Hey, Ange?"

"JESUS, doesn't anyone KNOCK anymore?" Angela exclaimed, Booth's voice shocking her out of her thoughts.

"Uh…"

"What? What do you want?"

"Um…I was just wondering if you knew where Bones was?"

Angela sighed. "She's in her office, I think."

"I just looked, she isn't there."

"Oh, wait, that's right…she went out to lunch."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm."

"With who?"

Angela quirked an eyebrow in Booth's direction. "I don't know, she didn't say."

"Oh."

"You could just call her."

"Well, if she's out with someone, I don't want to bother her."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake, Booth, this is Tempe! Just call her!"

"Okay, okay," Booth said, raising his hands in the air. "I'll call her. Thanks, Ange."

Angela nodded and gulped down some more of her cold decaf coffee.

"And, Ange?"

"Yeah?"

He pointed to the mug. "Go decaf."

Angela sat up straighter. Had Brennan told him? "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means…are you alright today?"

"I'm fine."

"Oookay," Booth said, heading out of her office, and for the second time that day, Angela heard a man mutter, "women."

Temperance arrive at Ophelia's house at 12:22pm. She gave the door a quick and forceful knock and then stuffed her hands deep into the pockets of her black coat. She could see the breath exhaled through her nose. The weather was definitely getting colder, she notice, and as she sifted her weight from foot to foot she began to wish that she had worn warmer socks. Ophelia opened the door a few moments later, however, and Temperance was greeted by a welcome wave of warm air.

"Hello, Temperance," Ophelia said, standing in the doorway. "You're right on time. Come on in."

Temperance gave the woman a smile and gladly stepped into the warmth of the house. "Thanks," she said as she entered.

Temperance took a moment to scan the living room. The amount of clutter in the space struck her, just as it had the first day she had come to visit, and for a moment she wondered if Ophelia even paid attention to it. Her eyes were drawn to the coffee table in front of the couch where she saw a small pile of letters strewn about.

"Is that the fan mail?" Temperance asked as she shrugged out of her coat.

Ophelia nodded, accepting the coat and draping it over the back of a chair by the door. "Yeah, that's it. I think I have more around somewhere, but I can't figure out where I put it. I was looking through it before you came, maybe something there will mean something to you. Most of it seems pretty standard to me, one or two that were weird, but no one that I ever thought was scary."

Temperance nodded and walked toward the coffee table, picking up the top letter when she got to it.

She read. When she finished the top letter, she moved to the next one in the stack. And then the next. And then the next.

By the time she had made it to the seventh letter, she and Ophelia were sitting on the couch, making casual comments about the letter as Temperance read. Ophelia had been right, there was very little that stood out.

And then Temperance's eye caught it. It was in the lower half of the pile, written on yellowed paper that was curled at the edges and smudged as if it had been rained on. Temperance pulled it out and read the cramped, scratchy handwriting.

Ms. Stone: I think your the best author ever and I think that your books are great and well thought out. Your crimes are perfectly executed and I think your storys could happen in real life. Sometime when I read your work I do think its real life. Your beautiful and I would love to meet you. What makes you think of the storys and ends? You a genus. I wish you would right me back. What don't you ever right me back? It hurts my feelings. I still love you. Right me back. From your biggest fan Sal.

Temperance's eyes scanned the note twice. The writing was haphazard and there were no clear margins on the page. It looked as if it had been written by a child.

Ophelia looked over at the note in Temperance's hands. "Oh, yeah, Sal. I forgot about him."

"Who is he?"

"He's a…fan. He started writing me about seven years ago. Some of his notes were kind of strange, so I contacted the authorities. Can't be to careful, you know? Anyway, I got a few more letters from him after that, but eventually he stopped writing. Nothing ever came of it."

Temperance nodded. "Interesting. What was his last name?"

"Mongellio, I think. I might have that wrong, though. It was a long time ago."

Temperance nodded, pulling a pen from her bag and scribbling "Sal Mongellio" onto the back of a receipt from the grocery store. "Can I borrow this note?"

Ophelia nodded. "Sure."

"Do you have any others from him?"

Ophelia shrugged. "Somewhere, I guess. But I haven't been able to find them yet. I can keep looking."

"Please do. Anything else you could give us would be a great help."

Ophelia nodded. "Of course."

A quiet moment passed as Temperance folded the note and tucked it into her bag. Ophelia broke it a moment later.

"Now, Dr. Brennan, I was wondering if I could ask you something."

Temperance looked up at the older woman and nodded.

Ophelia sighed slightly. "I've wanted to talk to you about this since I met you. But before I do, I feel like I have to be completely honest with you. I think that will help you understand."

Hesitant due to the sudden change in tone, Temperance just nodded again.

Ophelia turned her eyes away from Temperance, focusing on the wrinkled papers strewn about the coffee table. "Okay. I don't know how to make you understand this. Or, I don't know how to talk to you about this without having you ignore me or trying to have me committed." She sighed again, slowly. "I was diagnosed with a mental disorder when I was 23 years old. I was told that I had schizophrenia. I heard voice talking to me." She paused for a moment, and glanced at Temperance. "People say you hear them in your head, but that's not completely true. You hear them…everywhere. It's like they're completely outside of you, but you can hear them really loudly. Like if you try to walk away from them, they'll get louder instead of quieter." She shook her head, looking away again. "It's terrible. Anyway, I was told I had this…disorder…and I was admitted to a mental care facility." She closed her eyes. "This is where most people stop listening to me. See, the worst part wasn't being locked up with those people…I mean, that was bad, but it wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that I got pregnant."

Temperance sat in a stunned silence.

Ophelia exhaled a shaky breath. "With my therapist. He was supposed to be helping me…" she paused for a moment. "I was a kid. I was scared. I wanted to be normal." She shook her head. "He told me to get an abortion, threatened me, so I broke out and ran away. I had the baby…but I was 21. I had no money, no job, no education except for a few years of community college…nothing. I got job as a waitress to support my daughter." She looked at Temperance again. "I really thought I was going to be okay, you know? I though I had it worked out. But I didn't. The voices got worse. They started telling me to do things, terrible things. One night at work it got so bad that I couldn't hear the customers when they were giving me their orders. Then this one guy started yelling at me and I still couldn't hear him over the voices and I just fell down, cried…I woke up in another mental hospital. I was to messed up to even ask who had my daughter."

"Who did have her?"

She shrugged. "No one would tell me. I kept asking people where my baby was, but they thought I was just crazy and rambling. I don't know where she was. I had been there for about 6 months when someone from work came and told me that she was in a foster home. Maybe he had been taking care of her before that. I don't know."

"The voices never went away, but the medicine they gave me did quiet them down a little bit. I needed money, though, and so I decided that I had to find something I could do anywhere, even in a mental hospital. The voices were telling me such terrible things, I thought I'd just write it down. So I started writing mysteries."

"I was released about two years later, I think. I lost track of time when I was in there. I looked for my daughter, but I couldn't find her. I tried to contact my family to see if they would help me, but they wouldn't. I had run away from home when I was eight years old, and they never tried to look for me. I don't know why they would be willing to look for a piece of me now."

"I found Haley six years later. She was nine. God, she was beautiful. I loved her, you know? I never meant to leave her. But she didn't understand that. She told me she didn't want to get to know me. That she hated me." A silent tear fell down Ophelia's cheek. "She looked like him."

Uncomfortable, Temperance reached out and awkwardly placed a hand on Ophelia's shoulder. The woman looked up at Temperance, capturing her in a watery gaze. "What were your parents like?"

Frozen, Temperance didn't answer at first. She dropped her hand away. Ophelia gave her a rueful smile. "They were…um…well, I didn't know them well."

Ophelia nodded. "Parents try. I understand that now. My parents tried. But they're just humans. Not more."

The women sat in a tense silence.

"The reason I was so upset during the interview with Agent Booth was because of the blank paper. I can't stand blank paper. It always brings the voices back. I can't stand the white noise."

"White noise?"

Ophelia looked at her. "The sound of all the voices, all the words that could be on the paper. The sounds of the potential, the characters screaming and echoing off the margins…and it looks like skin, the skin of an old sick man, with blue veins sticking out everywhere…it's deafening, but it's necessary, you know? The continuity, the sounds…it's like a string tying the world together, where you write out the connections of me meeting you and my daughter and life and death and the in between places where you can't tell the difference…"

Confused, Temperance sat unmoving, unsure of what to do.

"I know I sound crazy. That's why I told you about my mental state first, to show you that I have been crazy, and I know what it means, but I'm not crazy now. I know the difference. But I'm fascinated by this idea, this thought of connection. It's like there's a film over reality, and if we can just break through we can see it, and we can see how things link together…like the fact that I was born with a problem and ran away from home and met that one therapist and had a daughter who I didn't get to know but then later met you…you who is more like me than my daughter…" she shook her head. "And I feel like I can talk to you about this more than anyone, because your entire life operates on the binary and multifaceted conditions of connection and reality…I mean, you spend your days with death, surrounded by it, coating yourself in it. But then you write books, create characters, and create life, even if it's fictional. And you're a woman. You can make life. You are the dichotomy." Her speech was rapid, and Temperance found herself staring at her. "I'm sorry," she said, looking away again. "I don't know how to explain what I'm saying. I don't believe the world is ending or anything, and it's not like I have some conspiracy theory, but I just find it fascinating. It's all connected, you know? One different choice and you're and entirely different person…or is it preset? Is it all inevitability or is it pure chance?"

Temperance's cell phone chose that moment to shout, causing Temperance to jump slightly. She looked at the id. Booth. She silenced the ringer.

"I'm sorry. I know this is a lot, and it sounds insane…but I wanted to know what you thought about it. It's an idea, you know? If we knew all the casual factors…could we predict what would happen next?"

"I…um…I'm sorry, I have to take this call." Temperance stood up from the couch. "Thank you for letting me look through your letters. We'll be in touch. Please call if you find the others."

Ophelia nodded, standing as well. "Sure."

Temperance nodded and turned to leave, picking up her coat from the back of the couch as she went.

"Temperance?" Ophelia said before Tempe could reach the door handle. Temperance turned and looked over her shoulder. "Think about it. Even if you think it's gibberish…consider the idea." Temperance just nodded and pushed the door open, heading back to her car without looking back into the house.

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