Disclaimer: I'm not even going to bother.

Thanks to FauxMaven for beta'ing this.

--------------

The morning traffic had died down, though the street outside the Hoover Building was still fairly busy. People in suits, couples pushing strollers, and groups of school children filled the sidewalks. It was a warm day, perfect for walking instead of using the car or Metro. Of course, Temperance Brennan normally walked, barring rain or snow. It was one of Booth's guilty pleasures, standing at his window, watching the streets for his partner. More often than not, he was the one going to the Jeffersonian, but when he knew that she was headed his way, he always tried to watch for her out his window. Even from a few floors up, he could see the tempting sway of her hips, and there was something strangely exciting about watching her when she was unaware. It was the same feeling he got when he studied her as she concentrated on her bones or the computer or even her meals. Stolen moments watching her when he was able to let his guard down.

There she was, crossing Constitution to come up 10th. She was still two blocks away, but he could easily pick her out of a crowd. Brennan would say it was his sniper training, but he knew it was something else. When you spend enough time watching a person you get to know them better than they know themselves.

Booth figured he knew his partner pretty well. He knew all of her smiles: the one when she was surprised and even delighted about something, the shy smile when she was embarrassed, the one that meant she was desperately trying not to cry. He knew the sounds she made when she was really enjoying a meal, and the sounds she made when she was about to strangle him. He knew that she had no clue about pop culture, but was trying to learn—even though she didn't want anyone to know she was. He knew that she could easily pronounce seven syllable words, but sometimes messed up little turns of phrase. And he even knew that sometimes she pretended to get things wrong, because she liked it when he got frustrated.

Walking quickly, she was nearing the front of his building. One arm swung at her side while the other carried several files. He could imagine the way the files pressed to her chest would accentuate her curves, and he debated whether or not it would be inappropriate to pray that she'd still be holding her files that way by the time she made it to his office. As she left his line of sight, entering the building, Booth sighed and left the window. Sitting down in his chair, he put his feet up on the desk. His pants slipped down his legs, exposing his socks. Today he was wearing a pair that Parker had given him, ones with little golden Snitches on them. Lately they had been reading Harry Potter together at bedtime.

He waited in that position for a few minutes, then abruptly pulled his feet down. Opening a file, he picked up a pen and started chewing on the end. Better let Brennan think he was busy, rather than waiting for her. They were walking a thin line lately, both aware of the other's attraction, but still hesitating. He wasn't sure why Brennan hadn't made a move yet, but he knew why he hadn't. It wasn't so long ago that Epps had escaped, and he had told his partner that their line of work was too dangerous for them to date. Technically, he had been talking about Cam, but she had clearly understood that he was also referring to their relationship progressing beyond that of partners and friends.

And all of that still applied. They had gotten themselves into other dangerous situations since then, and he was still afraid of what some psycho might do to her. But even more, Booth was afraid of what might happen to her if he were injured or killed. It seemed the more likely scenario, that he would be killed somehow, leaving her alone. She had dealt with so much pain and loss already, and he didn't know how she would react if something happened to him.

"You look deep in thought," Brennan said from the doorway, bringing Booth out of his reverie.

His gaze moved slowly up from the file in front of him, traveling up her slender frame, to the files that were still pressed to body. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smirk. He pulled his eyes up to her face and found her staring at him evenly.

"What was that, Bones?" He had heard her, but preferred a moment to gather his thoughts.

One of her eyebrows quirked in an expression Booth was all too familiar with. "I said you looked deep in thought, Booth."

"Yeah, just going over some files," he nodded, indicating the paperwork on his desk.

She came into his office, dropping her files next to his. As she sat down opposite him, she glanced at the papers he had strewn about.

"Isn't that the case we closed last week?" she frowned.

"Uh, yeah." Shit. "I just wanted to look over it, you know, make sure everything was in order."

She nodded slowly, watching him carefully. Then, almost imperceptibly, a shrug of the shoulders.

"When are we leaving?" she asked.

"Whenever you're ready." He indicated the files she had brought along. "Those my IDs?"

"No, they're my IDs, thank you very much."

He rolled his eyes and picked up the one on top, flipping the folder open. He scanned the contents briefly, then picked up the other two and read through them. Two hikers that disappeared in Virginia last year, and another that went missing from Pennsylvania the year before.

"All hikers, huh? Good job, Bones."

The barest hint of a smile played across her lips as she nodded, then looked away, towards his window. Her hands were in her lap and she fidgeted with the bangles on her wrist. She looked nervous. Why would she be nervous? As he watched her, she glanced back at him. Her gaze remained on him, turning defiant. Yes, she was definitely acting strangely. He didn't think he should mention it.

Clearing his throat, he rose from his chair. He grabbed his suit jacket, and while he slipped it on, asked, "You ready to go?"

---------------

Brennan had been somewhat quieter than normal on the half hour drive to Falls Church, where the most recent victim had resided. After turning off the highway, they drove down shaded streets, streets that stretched distantly because of their stilted conversation. Booth had made the mistake of asking if she'd heard from Sully, and since then, he hadn't been able to break out of the awkwardness. After meeting with Gordon Gordon, they had enjoyed barely two weeks of blissful agreement with his therapist's assessment of why Brennan hadn't left with Sully, but as time had passed it became increasingly apparent that the Brit had been wrong. Booth had come to realize that she had feelings for him, just as he had for her. Of course, he didn't mention this epiphany to Dr. Wyatt.

Booth finally turned the SUV into the driveway of the victim's house and he exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. He turned in his seat to face Brennan.

"Now, they've already been told about their son. I didn't want them to have to wait until we were able to get out here," he explained.

"Good," she said. "That part is always the worst. We're just here to ask some questions?"

Nodding, he reminded her, "And please, Bones, don't go into too much detail."

"Booth, there's no need to be condescending," she glared at him. "And besides, I still don't have the remains yet, so I only have what little information the medical examiner sent me." She crossed her arms across her breasts in a huff.

"Okay, okay, don't get all pouty at me," he muttered.

Brennan opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when he pointed at her, wagging his finger from side to side. Much as he liked arguing with her, this wasn't the time.

Mrs. Lessard greeted them at the door. Dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, she motioned them to come inside. The only color in her face was the red around her eyes. Her husband was already seated on the couch, barely looking more composed than his wife. Booth felt a small sense of relief at seeing the parents this way: while he knew that everyone mourned differently, parents who seemed untouched by grief made him uneasy. As difficult as it was to bear witness to such pain, he much preferred working with people who at least seemed to care that their son or daughter was dead.

Brennan, on the other hand, looked even more uncomfortable than she had earlier. Dealing with bereaved parents was harder on her than it was on him. They took their seats in chairs opposite the Lessards.

"Thank you for seeing us, Mr. and Mrs. Lessard. I'm sure this is the last thing you want to have to deal with right now," Booth began.

The couple nodded mutely in response.

"I'd just like to clarify your son's itinerary while he was camping, if that's okay with you. Now, the information I have says that he left here Friday, April 20th, in the morning. Is that correct?"

"Yes. He drove over to Harper's Ferry, he wanted to get on the Appalachian Trail there," Mr. Lessard responded, his voice dull.

"And he was just planning on going for the weekend, right?"

Mr. Lessard nodded. "Yes. He was going to spend some time on South Mountain. See Crampton Gap, Fox Gap, and Turner Gap. He was a Civil War buff, always loved going to historical sites, you know?"

"Was he hiking alone?"

"I shouldn't have let him, I know," mumbled Mrs. Lessard. "It was my job to keep him safe."

Mr. Lessard put his arm around his wife, pulling her close. She leaned into him, her eyes closed to hold back the tears.

"It's been tough, you know? He's 24, not a kid anymore, but we still feel responsible," he explained.

Booth nodded sympathetically. "Of course."

From next to him, Brennan spoke up. "Mr. Lessard, was Bryan an experienced hiker?"

The man nodded in response. "Oh, yes. I started taking him backpacking with me when he was little. He loved it. Last summer he hiked the entire Virginia portion of the AT in a month."

"Did your son ever mention anyone showing an unusual interest in him? Or had he felt like he was being watched or followed before he left?" Booth questioned.

Both parents shook their heads. Mrs. Lessard said, "No, nothing like that. He was such a good kid, I don't know why anyone would have wanted to hurt him." She buried her face in her husband's shoulder and he cradled her gently. Mr. Lessard glanced up at Booth.

"I'm so sorry to have had to ask these questions, Mr. and Mrs. Lessard. We'll go. If you think of anything else, please let us know." Booth placed his card on the coffee table as he and Brennan rose.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Brennan said quietly.

---------------

Back in the car, Brennan seemed thoughtful as he drove them back to the city. She stared out the window, and Booth knew better than to interrupt her thoughts. With the mood she was in, he doubted they'd get to talk at all before he dropped her off at the lab. After a few minutes, she surprised him by speaking.

"The Lessards seem to—" she hesitated. "It's nice that they have each other."

He glanced at her and wondered how best to reply to that. It seemed a strange thing for her to comment on. He decided noncommittal was best, and only hummed in response.

Another minute passed before she spoke again. "I wish more people had that," she mumbled.

What was that supposed to mean? Since when did she want people to pair up and get married? That seemed so unlike her. He pondered, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. Unless she wasn't talking about people in general, but someone specific.

"Bones, what are we—" Damn, no, not like that. "What's going on?"

She kept her face turned to the window. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I mean, what's going on with you today? You're acting all nervous and shy, and I, we—" he clenched his jaw, trying to figure out how best not to get himself in too deep. "What's going on?"

She didn't respond, only stared out the window. After a while, Booth decided she was probably ignoring him. He felt the first twinges of a headache and tried to force the muscles in his shoulders to relax.

"Don't you ever wish that things were easier?" Her voice was quiet, but the impact of her meaning hit him fully, and suddenly he felt very tired.

"Yes, Temperance. I do."