A/N: Hey, guys! Fantastic response on the first chapter! So glad you guys were intrigued, and that you're reading! Sorry this took a little longer than I hoped…it's a long chapter, which hopefully makes up for it.

Oh, also…this is not a sequel to All That You Can't Leave Behind. Even though Booth and Brennan do not start in a relationship. It probably wouldn't hurt anything if you choose to think of it as a sequel…but none of those events affect these. I tend not to do sequels simply because I put Booth and Bren through so much in the course of a fic…I want to end it and hope they're just happy. Not pick back and put them through still MORE angst haha.

Not much else to say…song is "Fall Away" by the Fray.

Chapter One

Fall Away

You swear you recall nothing at all
That could make you come back down
You made up your mind to leave it all behind
Now you're forced to fight it out

You fall away from your past
But it's following you

"Booth?" Impatient, Brennan pounded on the door of the bathroom.

Smiling to himself, Booth tilted his head under the hot spray of the shower and yelled over the sound of the shower, "It's open, Bones!"

She was inside the bathroom within seconds, barely giving her partner and boyfriend a glance, eyes sweeping the floor.

"Lookin' for something, Bones?" Booth asked dryly.

"Have you seen my boots?" She asked him distractedly.

"What, like rain boots? It's sunny outside."

"What?" Brennan gave him a strange look. "No, my leather boots. I'm already late for work, and I can't find any shoes…"

"Can't help you there, babe." He nudged open the shower door with his foot. "You're all stressed, Bones…want to jump in?"

For a moment, the tension fell from her face and Brennan looked at him, her lips curving into a tiny smirk as she considered. Then, abruptly, the smile dropped and she scowled at Booth as though it was all his fault for distracting her. "I can't, Booth, I'm already late and I have no shoes."

Shooting her a look of exaggerated disappointment, Booth pulled the shower door closed "They're probably back at my place, Bones. Your shoes are everywhere, they're like…taking over my floor."

He turned off the shower and Brennan tossed him a towel without missing a beat. "You're one to talk, there are two drawers here just for your socks."

Booth grinned, stepping out and brushing his lips against Brennan, angling away to avoid dripping on her. "You love my socks."

"True." She sighed, resigned. "Doesn't help me with shoes for today, though."

Shrugging sympathetically, Booth walked past her, leaving the bathroom. He paused suddenly in the doorway, turning toward Brennan. "Oh, hey, you know what might help with that, though?" Brennan glanced over at him expectantly. "We should move in together." Booth smiled, nodding to himself. "Yeah, I think that'd be good."

Then, grinning, he closed the door to the bathroom, leaving Brennan gaping after him.

~(B*B)~

Later that day, Booth was walking into Brennan's office of the Jeffersonian. He sat in the chair across from Brennan's, smiling at her and nudging his foot against hers under the desk.

"I see you found shoes."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan crossed her arms. "It's not amusing, Booth, I had to change clothes."

"I noticed." He eyed her fondly, watching Brennan clearing off her desk and closing files for a long moment. "I guess you'd just need to…have doubles of everything."

Brennan paused momentarily, frowning at him. "That's a highly impractical suggestion, Booth."

"Yeah, I guess it is." Booth paused, grinning slyly, then added casually, "Then I guess you'll just have to think about my other suggestion."

"That we…live together?" She asked the question tentatively, as though trying out the sound of the words.

Nodding, Booth stood up, grabbing Brennan's coat from the rack by the door and gesturing for her to follow him. "We can talk about it at lunch. C'mon, Bones, I'm starving!"

~(B*B)~

Half an hour later, Booth was smiling indulgently at her from across the table at the diner. "I knew you'd say that."

Brennan arched her eyebrow in his direction, absently grabbing a few fries from Booth's plate. "You knew I'd say which thing?"

"All of it!" He insisted. "The lease, you wanting the independence because of some anthropological crap I don't understand. Some blah blah blah about it being impractical for Parker."

"It would be," Brennan reiterated. "My apartment is obviously more practical due to size, but Parker is already attached to his bedroom at your apartment-"

"It's a room he stays in every other weekend, Bones. He'll adjust."

Brennan paused, then, buying time, asked, "You claim you knew how I would respond. So why even ask?"

Again, Booth merely smiled. "Because I wanted to bring it up casually to give you time to freak out. But you're going to say yes eventually."

In spite of herself, Brennan felt her lips curling into a smile, and she glanced away from his sparkling brown eyes, attempting to suppress it. "Oh, really?"

"Oh, yeah." Booth gave her a maddeningly self-satisfied smile. "Probably sooner than later. You can't argue with the logic, Bones. It's been over a month since we spent even a night apart. Our stuff is split evenly between the two places." He leaned forward, eyes dancing with mirth. "It just isn't rational."

At some point during the conversation, Booth had picked up her hand on the table, and was absently tracing his fingers over every line in her palm with one hand, while the other linked the fingers together.

Brennan stared at their joined hands for a moment, a not unwelcome flutter in her chest as she considered. "Maybe…" she began quietly, the words coming slowly. "We could find a new place?" Suddenly it was a question, and she kept her eyes on their hands, not meeting Booth's eyes. "One that's just ours?"

When Brennan finally lifted her hand, Booth was beaming at her, his eyes shining. "Just ours sounds perfect, Bones."

Then he was swapping sides of the booth, sliding in beside her and nearly pressing her against the wall of the diner as he kissed her, smiling against Brennan's lips as he did.

She responded easily for a long, leisurely moment before laughingly leaning back. "You said you hate when couples do this."

"What?" Booth asked with a grin. "Too much PDA or sitting on the same side of a booth when there's no one else?"

"Both," Brennan reminded him in a low voice.

"Oh, well. Worth it." He kissed her again, softly, before moving back to his side of the booth, grin still in place. "Oh, wait, there was one more thing I had to say…what was that? Oh, right?" He smirked. "I knew you'd agree…told you so."

He was still laughing when a balled up napkin hit him squarely in the nose.

~(B*B)~

When Brennan returned to her apartment, she found the table set, complete with candles and wine, while Booth moved around in the kitchen.

Brennan paused in the doorway for a moment before Booth saw her, a soft smile on her face as she watched him, whistling to himself as he cooked.

Booth turned toward the stove, and Brennan moved quietly into the kitchen behind him and slid her arms around his waist. "Hi."

He twisted, face lighting up as he looked at her. "Hey, yourself."

"Food smells good," Brennan murmured just before Booth kissed her slowly.

When he gently pulled back, he was smiling. "I figured we should celebrate." He shuffled slightly to the side, waving at the food on the stove. "Vegetarian lasagna."

"Sounds perfect," she told him, smiling. She started to say something else, when the phone rang, cutting her off. "I got it."

Booth turned back to the food while Brennan moved toward the phone. "Brennan."

There was silence.

"Hello?" Booth turned around, catching her eye with a questioning look. "Hello?"

Then, there was an audible click.

Brennan replaced the phone on its receiver, shrugging at Booth. "Just a hang up."

"Good thing," Booth commented, moving around the table, carrying the pan of lasagna in his oven mitted hands. "Cause we're ready to eat."

Brennan started toward the kitchen to grab a salad bowl, but Booth, setting down the lasagna, gently grabbed her arm to stop her. "No, you sit down, Bones. I got this."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan obliged, sitting at the table and watching affectionately as Booth ran back and forth from the kitchen before finally sitting down beside her and filling her wine glass, then his own.

With a relaxed sigh, Booth looked at her, his brown eyes soft as he met Brennan's. Lifting his wine glass, he smiled sweetly. "To us, Bones. To…" Booth paused, the skin around his eyes crinkling as his smile widened. "To this next step."

She touched her glass to his before lifting it to her lips. She'd barely pulled the glass away before Booth was leaning close, encasing her lips in his.

~(B*B)~

"You do realize we're bringing my television to the new place." Booth murmured, close to Brennan's ear.

"I assumed you wouldn't be able to function without your ESPM," Brennan replied. They were lying on the couch, Brennan against Booth's chest, his arms encircling her.

"ESPN, Bones," he corrected her. Brennan smiled, feeling the deep hum of Booth's laughter in his chest.

"Hey…." He lifted her chin with one finger, and Brennan shifted slightly, craning her neck to meet his eyes. Booth smiled down at her, one thumb gently stroking her cheekbone. "You know how much I love you, Bones?"

Immediately, Brennan's eyes lit up, a smile slowly unfurling. They'd been together six months, and every time he said those words, there was still the flash of surprise and gratitude in Brennan's eyes, a combination that always broke Booth's heart a little.

"I love you, too," she answered quietly.

Booth smiled. "I know." His lips had barely grazed hers when the phone rang, piercing through the quiet. Booth groaned, "Perfect timing."

The cordless phone was sitting on the coffee table next to the couch, and Brennan reached over Booth's shoulder to grab it. "Hello?"

Again, there was silence. Brennan listened closely, barely detecting the faint sound of breathing. "Hello?"

Another click, followed shortly by a dial tone.

"Strange," Brennan muttered.

"What'd the ID say?"

"Out of area."

Booth plucked the phone from her hand and replaced on the table, a wolfish grin splitting his features. "Now where were we?"

He shifted, moving out from under Brennan so she was lying on the couch, Booth leaning on his forearm and bending over her.

After a minute or so, Booth murmured against her lips, pausing every few words to kiss her again. "Maybe the new place…could just be….one giant bed…carpeted with mattresses…nothing but soft…perfect…surfaces…"

Brennan frowned, suddenly pulling away to stare up at Booth with a perplexed. "You're joking, right? Because I don't see the practicality of-"

The phone rang again. Booth set his jaw. "For the love of God…" He reached over grabbing at it. "What?"

This time the click was instant.

Booth shook his head, hitting the 'end call' button almost violently. "Now I am going to take the batteries out of this," he told her, doing so as he said it. "And then I'm going to show you the practicality of an apartment that's basically a giant bed."

~(B*B)~

Booth had a meeting at the Hoover the next morning, so he was gone by the time Brennan woke up the next morning. She was on her way to the lab when she got a text: "Got a case…be there to get you in ten."

For some reason, Angela and Cam were smirking at Brennan when she arrived at the Jeffersonian the next morning.

"Someone had a good night last night," Angela teased her, a knowing expression in her eyes.

Already aware of the heat rising to her cheeks, Brennan protested, "I'm only two minutes late."

Cam smiled. "There are flowers in your office, delivered a little bit ago."

"Yes, and can we leave them in view for as long as possible? Send a message to Hodgins on keeping the spark alive."

Brennan smiled slightly. She thought, briefly, of telling them the news, that she and Booth were looking for a place; Angela in particular had been asking for months when they would be 'making it official'.

But Booth was on his way by now, and Brennan knew Angela well enough to know she would require a good five minutes of squealing and congratulations…and Booth would be there any second.

"Did I hear my name?" Hodgins asked, coming toward them from the platform and kissing his wife on the cheek.

"Booth sent Bren flowers," Angela informed him, arching an eyebrow at him. "I thought you should take notes." She hit him playfully in the chest, and Hodgins adopted a mock offended expression.

"I send you flowers."

"Please, the last time I had flowers from you was in the delivery room. Your daughter's eight months old, so what does that tell you?"

Brennan turned her attention to Cam. "Booth says we have a case. He's on his way."

Her boss nodded in affirmation, and soon Brennan was heading to her office.

She slowed slightly as she entered, eyes falling on the bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk. It was an assorted, colorful variety of flowers, unusual for Booth, who was pretty consistent with daffodils, her favorite.

Still, Brennan smiled as she reached between the flowers, pulling out the card nestled among them.

Instantly, though, her smile dropped, her throat narrowing with fear.

Typed in the center of the card, with no signature, was a familiar phrase.

Can't wait until I'm seeing you again.

The card slipped from Brennan's hand, her heart suddenly thumping heavily in her chest. She took a quick step back from the flowers, staring at them for a dizzying moment before violently sweeping them off her desk and into the trash can.

She ran her hands through her hair, and only the sensation of physically touching something made her realize she was shaking.

Drawing a breath, curling her hands into tight fists, Brennan forced herself to think logically.

While it was not certain, it was statistically unlikely that she was wrong about who sent them. That phrase had ended every letter he'd ever sent her from jail.

But so what? Who was to say he couldn't have managed to orchestrate something this simple from prison? A simple phone call to someone on the outside…

At this thought, though, Brennan thought of the three phone calls from last night, the quiet breathing on the other end of the line. And with that thought, she realized why this worried her.

He'd spent the better part of two decades in jail, and all she'd ever gotten were letters. Something had changed.

Within seconds she was on her computer, looking up the number for the correct prosecutor's office.

~(B*B)~

"Yes."

The answer, though Brennan had honestly known, in the same way Booth claimed to 'know' things without proof, prompted a sharp intake of breath, and Brennan had to grip the edge of her desk with one hand to steady herself.

The woman on the phone continued, "His parole hearing was last week…he's a free man."

"But, um…but I don't understand. I don't, uh…" Brennan clamped her lips together; she sounded like an inarticulate idiot. Forcing her voice to remain even, Brennan started again, "It was my understanding that he had another two years on his sentence…"

"Yes," the prosecutor explained patiently. "But that's how parole works…he's out on good behavior. Apparently he was a model prisoner."

Brennan made an involuntary, breathy sound of incredulity. She closed her eyes for a moment, her usual instinctive, rationalization not coming to her.

"I'm sorry, Temperance," the prosecutor said sympathetically when the silence had stretched on for too long. "If it was up to me, he'd be locked up forever."

Instantly, Brennan snapped back into control. She recognized that voice; warm and pitying, it made her feel sixteen year old…sixteen, broken and helpless. She was no longer any of those things, and Brennan refused to let Sean Lowell change her again.

"I understand," Brennan said into the phone, her voice crisp and detached. "Thank you."

She hung up without waiting for a reply. Brennan stayed still for a long moment, one hand still unconsciously gripping the corner of her desk.

Brennan didn't know how long she stood there, silent and unmoving, before Booth's arms were sliding around her waist from behind.

Brennan jumped, startled, twisting and staring at him with a wide eyed, panicked look.

"Hey…" Booth's eyebrows knit together and he stared at her in confusion. "Didn't mean to scare you, Bones." He tangled his fingers in her hair, kissing her gently in greeting, then drew back and, frowning, scrutinized her face. "You okay?"

"Fine," Brennan muttered, her eyes skirting away from his concerned gaze . She absently took hold of Booth's tie, worrying the silky material between her fingers.

She was filled, suddenly, with the childish urge to bury her face in Booth's chest, hiding from someone she should no longer be afraid of.

Instead, she touched her palm briefly to his chest, managed a weak smile, and then turned to grab her bag. "We should go, right?"

"Yeah…" Booth paused, still watching her, then seemed to relax slightly. "Oh, hey, did you tell Angela about moving in?"

They started out the door. "No, I didn't have time. Why?"

"She, like, congratulated me on still being romantic and impressive. I figured that's what it was about."

"Oh…" Brennan paused. "I told her about you cooking dinner."

"Ah, okay." Booth grinned. "That was pretty impressive."

"It was," Brennan agreed distractedly.

"Hey…" Booth looped an arm around her waist suddenly, glancing down at her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She leaned into him, nodding. "I'm perfectly fine, Booth, just…just tired."

At that, he grinned. "Yeah, me, too." He leaned close to her ear, whispering, "Worth it, though, right?"

Brennan managed, finally, a genuine smile. "Very."

~(B*B)~

That night, Brennan lay awake for hours after Booth drifted off beside her, his slow steady breathing not enough to calm her, for once.

She'd been on edge all day, jumpy and distracted. Now, Brennan was trying to tell herself that it didn't matter, that she was being ridiculous.

Sean Lowell was nothing compared to most of what she'd faced. He'd been able to do what he did to her, quite simply, because she was young and weak, ill equipped to defend herself.

Now, sheer size and strength meant nothing to her. She was trained in three types of martial arts. She was an excellent shot.

She had beat up gang leaders. Shot and killed murderers. Fought off armed guerillas who vastly outnumbered her.

In spite of these facts, and the irrefutable logic behind them, the knowledge that Sean Lowell was free, that he clearly knew where to find her, made Brennan go cold with terror.

She shifted closer to Booth, tucking her head against his chest. He shifted slightly, not waking up.

She wasn't ready to tell Booth everything. Not now, and maybe not ever. They'd skirted over the topic of Sean Lowell once, months ago, without much detail. Without the full story.

The thought of him knowing made Brennan's stomach clench.

Brennan closed her eyes, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Booth's chest as she attempted to fall asleep.

~(B*B)~

More flowers came three days later, with an identical card. This time, though, it arrived at her apartment.

Booth wasn't with her, luckily. They were staying at Booth's apartment all weekend, as they always did during Parker's visits. But both Booth boys had charm smiled away until she agreed to make apple pie (which Booth was woefully incapable of doing), and Brennan returned to her own place for the first time in days to pick up some ingredients.

The flowers were leaning against her door, as though they'd simply been dropped off rather than professionally delivered, and this method made Brennan even more uneasy.

She left the flowers where they were and entered her apartment, locking every lock on the door behind her. Brennan moved quickly through the kitchen, throwing the items she needed into a grocery bag.

When she had everything she'd come for, Brennan went into her bedroom, removing the gun from the bedside table and nestling it in the bottom of her purse.

Then she left, grabbing the flowers on her way out to deposit in the dumpster outside.

~(B*B)~

They stayed at Booth's apartment for most of the next week. The few times they weren't together by the end of the day, Brennan stopped by her place, checking for flowers. There was one other bouquet, four days after the other one. Two days before that, however, she found a card tucked in with her mail, with no name or address on the envelope.

Inside was a 'Thinking of You' card, with the usual phrase and no signature.

All week, Brennan felt overly cautious and nervy. Booth was asking if she was alright more often than usual, so she began working harder at acting as though everything was normal.

The phone calls made it to her cell phone after a few days of avoiding her apartment. They were easier to ignore that way, and Brennan deleted the long, silent voicemails that followed missed calls.

After a week of this, however, the phone calls stopped. Several days passed without any flower deliveries or strange mail, and Brennan began relaxing.

She had to remember that Sean Lowell was not a notably intelligent man. He'd had her in his house for eight months. Controlling her had not been difficult; it had taken no effort on his part...she'd been easily accessed. Now, though, he was outmatched, and had obviously decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

She and Booth began scheduling appointments to see apartments and, in a few cases, houses. They went to Parker's soccer game. They babysat Allegra (Alle to her "Aunt" Bren and "Uncle" Booth) while Hodgins and Angela had a date night.

In short, for four or five days, things seemed to return to normal.

~(B*B)~

"I mean, you know how much I loved Avatar. I just don't see why it needs a sequel."

Sweets swallowed a mouthful of food and gave Hodgins a sidelong look of disbelief. "Why would you not want a sequel? Just another chance to experience those effects in theaters."

Hodgins eyes lit up, as though the younger man had walked into a trap. "Ah, but there is another chance. Supposedly, they're rereleasing the first one in theaters. James Cameron will do anything to trick consumers out of ticket price-"

"I don't know if it really constitutes a trick, does it?" Without waiting for an answer, Sweets gave Hodgins a smug look. "You realize you're just applying your conspiracy theory logic to a discussion about movie sequels."

"Don't shrink me, man," Hodgins told him dryly. "I told you, these lunches are only if you don't."

Sweets, though, didn't appear to be listening. He was looking past Hodgins, at a man sitting several stools away from them at the bar of the diner.

Amusement flickering in Sweets' eyes, he nodded at the book in the guys hand.

Hodgins swiveled on his stool and instantly saw what the psychologist found so amusing. The guy was reading Dr. B's second book.

Suddenly, the older man looked up, followed their gaze, and smiled politely. He indicated the book. "You fans?"

Hodgins smirked slightly. "You could say that."

Sweets, though, was leaning eagerly across Hodgins to address the man. "Actually, we work with her. At the Jeffersonian."

Hodgins rolled his eyes slightly, but the man's eyes lit up in interest. "Really? I'd heard she worked nearby. That must be interesting work you do there."

"It is," Sweets said proudly, and Hodgins suppressed a smile.

The man waved the book slightly. "Afraid these are the closest I get to that kind of excitement. Been reading her for years though…I just keep rereading them all, waiting for the next one."

"I know she's been working on the next one," Sweets told him in a low voice. Hodgins gave a sudden, choking laugh at the authority injected into Sweets' tone.

The older man smiled at him, his grey eyes lighting up. "Well, I'll be buying that sure. I'm a huge fan."

"She comes in here a lot, actually," Sweets offered. "You could probably get an autograph someti- ow." He turned and gave Hodgins an affronted look.

Hodgins gave Sweets a friendly smile, as though he hadn't just bruised his shins. He waved the paid bill in Sweets face. "We should probably get back to the lab."

"Right," Sweets muttered. He raised a hand in the direction of the older man. "Nice meeting you."

"Nice talking to you boys," the guy said pleasantly.

The two of them walked out of the diner, and Sweets through Hodgins an annoyed look. "Why'd you kick me?"

"Think about it, Sweets. You know how Brennan is around us? Her close friends and colleagues?"

"Yeah…"

"Imagine how she is around her 'fans'."

Slowly, a sheepish smile spread across Sweets face. "That's true." He laughed a little. "I just think that's so funny. I forget she's kinda famous sometimes."

Hodgins laughed, too. "Yeah, I think she does, too. You should see her face when people ask for an autograph." He pulled his face into an imitation, and the two men laughed as they headed back to work.

~(B*B)~

"Hey, Dr. B." Hodgins grinned at his box as he hopped the steps of the forensic platform. "Guess what?"

"What?" She replied, not glancing up from the file she and Angela were bent over, studying.

"We met one of your fans," he teased, Sweets coming up behind him.

Slowly, Brennan lifted her head, her eyebrows knit together. "I don't know what that means."

"We were in the diner and this guy was reading one of your books." Hodgins hit Sweets arm. "Sweets, of course, had to start chatting him up-"

"I was not-"

"-and apparently the guy's, like, your biggest fan," Hodgins grinned at her, but Brennan was staring at him, wide eyed, the color draining from her face.

"What did he look like?" She asked finally, speaking through clenched teeth.

His smile slowly fading, Hodgins glanced at Sweets, who answered, "Uh, late fifties, early sixties maybe? Good shape, though, kind of a big guy. Not, like, fat, but…" He paused, beginning to flush under Brennan's fierce gaze. "I don't know. Gray hair. Gray eyes."

"You can probably see for yourself sometime," Hodgins said, giving Sweets a pointed look. "Sweets here told him you eat in the diner a lot, he'll probably start hanging out there."

Brennan swung her gaze from Hodgins to Sweets, advancing on him with a hard, blazing look. "You told him what?"

Sweets looked genuinely scared, but Hodgins just replied, "I know, I told him you hate autographs-"

Not taking her eyes off the psychologist, Brennan demanded, louder than she intended, "Why would you tell a complete stranger that?"

Sweets was looking wildly around, as though silently begging for help.

Tentatively, Angela touched Brennan's shoulder. "Sweetie. What's going on?"

Brennan turned slowly, blinking at her best friend as though she didn't quite recognize her. Then, her face relaxed, an impassive expression taking place of the wild one in place seconds before. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Bren-"

"It's nothing," she repeated firmly, plucking the file easily from Angela's hand and disappearing into her office.

~(B*B)~

They closed a case the next evening, and Booth and Brennan decided to walk from the Hoover; it was a warm, pleasantly breezy night, and the case had been a long one. They were glad for the breather.

"Want to get some food?" Booth asked after a few minutes of walking in companionable silence, fingers laced between them, slowing their already leisurely pace slightly.

"That'd be good," Brennan murmured.

"Diner's just up there."

"No!" Brennan winced as soon as the protest was out of her mouth, but she'd reacted too quickly to stop herself.

Booth slowed to a stop, turning slightly to look at her strangely. "What…why the suddenly strong feelings against the diner?"

Brennan ducked her head, muttering in the direction of the ground, "Nothing I just…I just don't feel like it."

"Hey…" Booth touched her face gently, making her look at him. The tender concern on his face was so palpable that Brennan's throat narrowed immediately. "What's going on, Bones?" His voice was gentle. "I know something's wrong, just…tell me what I can do. Tell me how to fix it."

For a moment she just shook her head slowly, suddenly afraid that if she spoke she would start crying, merely because of the sweet sincerity in Booth's voice.

"Is it moving in?" He tried uncertainly after a moment. "Are you…you're having second thoughts or…?"

Brennan swallowed hard, needing to answer that. "No. I promise, Booth, I…I want to live with you, it isn't that."

"So it's something?" His thumb caressed her cheek, comforting even though he didn't yet know why. "You can tell me, Bones."

She put her arms around him, laying her head on the place between his neck and shoulder, clinging tightly. "Hey…" Booth's voice was low, soothing as he hugged her back.

They stood like that for a moment, holding each other on the side of the street. Right then, just for a moment, Brennan wanted to tell him everything. It didn't matter that she could take care of herself, that Sean Lowell was no match for her, even alone; Booth made Brennan feel safer than she ever had in her life, and for just a second she didn't want to be alone in this anymore.

Still, she knew she couldn't do it. Because telling him what was happening now would mean explaining everything, everything she'd conveniently left out before. The full truth of what Sean Lowell did to her, how he saw her, and Brennan knew she wasn't ready to tell Booth yet.

"I'm sorry," she told him quietly, drawing back to look at him. "I know I've been…strange. I'm really okay, I just…I haven't been sleeping very well, and I think I'm just tired as a result."

Booth frowned instantly, pressing his hand to her forehead. "You're not sick are you, Bones?"

"I doubt it." She gave him a small half-smile. "It happens sometimes, Booth. With me. But I'm really okay."

He still looked a little doubtful, but slowly he nodded. "Promise?"

"Promise," she answered quietly.

"Good." Booth kissed her then, soft and slow. When he drew back, he rested his forehead against Brennan's, briefly, and smiled. She could still see the uncertainty in his eyes, and Brennan felt a surge of guilt, knowing he was only accepting her answer because he no longer expected her to keep anything from him.

"I love you," he told her quietly.

That, at least, drew a smile from her, as it always did. "Love you, too."

Booth grinned teasingly at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and letting Brennan lean her head on his shoulder. "You promise?"

"Promise," she answered, this time with nothing but certainty.

~(B*B)~

The tape was tucked in a small white envelope, stuck underneath her windshield wiper when Brennan left the lab for a lunch break the following day.

There was nothing else in the envelope, just the mini DV tape with a blank white label.

She dropped the envelope in her glove box, holding it gingerly by one corner, and left it there when she met Booth for lunch (he didn't even suggest the diner).

When she returned to the lab, though, Brennan walked straight into Angela's office and adopted a casual voice. "Hey, um…can you convert a mini tape?"

Angela frowned in confusion. "Like…a cassette tape?"

"No…" Her gloves on now, Brennan reached into the envelope and extracted the tape. "I think it's a video."

"Oh, yeah, I can convert it, no problem. What's it for?"

"It was in the artifact bag with one of the limbo cases," Brennan replied instantly; she'd spent the drive back figuring out this reasoning.

"Okay, no problem. I'll just get into a regular file…call you when it's done."

"Thanks, Ange," Brennan told her, forcing a smile as she left the office.

~(B*B)~

Half an hour later, Angela came stalking onto the forensic platform, where Brennan and Cam were busily examining a set of remains.

Angela's face was tight, her eyes huge. She spoke in a strangled voice, "Bren, I need to talk to you."

Brennan glanced over. "Can it wait a few min-"

"No," Angela told her forcefully. "No, it can't. I need to talk to you. Now."

Cam straightened up, her lips pursed, eyebrows lifting as she glanced between the other two women in confusion.

Sighing, her stomach tightening in dread, Brennan pulled off her gloves and followed Angela, murmuring an apology to Cam as she did.

Angela had barely slammed her office door behind them before she was rounding on Brennan. "What the hell is that tape, Brennan?"

Brennan narrowed her eyes at her, "Did you watch it?"

"The conversion is slow, it runs the tape on the monitor while it's doing it," Angela told her flatly. "That's not part of some limbo case, Bren. Where did it come from?"

"What was on it?" Brennan asked in a small voice, Angela's obvious panic heightening her fear.

"Where did you get it?" Angela grinded out, stubborn.

"Ange…please, just tell me." Much to her chagrin, Brennan's voice shook slightly. Still, the fear semed to calm Angela slightly, as she led Brennan to one of the monitors and pressed play.

"It's you," Angela said softly.

Brennan watched, unable to tear her eyes away, as Angela fast forwarded through the tape. The scene changed every once in awhile, but they were all the same. Surveillance. Of her. Sometimes there were long, static shots outside her or Booth's apartment, monitoring their arrivals or exits. A few times they were outside the lab somewhere, watching Brennan arrive from work. Once they caught Brennan and Angela leaving the diner. Booth, Brennan and Parker going into a pizza place.

And according to the date and time stamps in the corner of the screen, they were all over the past week.

Brennan felt lightheaded with panic. She curled her fingers inward, digging her nails into the palm of her hands so hard they left small, white half moons behind.

"Brennan," Angela's voice was shaking. "What is this?"

"It was…it was tucked under my windshield earlier," she replied faintly.

"Bren, the last clip in this is you getting here this morning. This…this person…whoever's watching you was doing it today." She sighed, shakily. "You need to call Booth."

At that suggestion, Brennan looked away from the monitor for the first time since Angela started to tape. "No."

"Sweetie, you have to, he can find out who did this-"

"I know who did it." Brennan stared down at her hands for a moment, then lifted her head and met her best friend's gaze. "It was…Sean Lowell.

For a moment, the artist's face was uncomprehending. Then, understanding dawned, and her eyes widened. "Your old foster father? The one who-"

"He's out of jail. Two years early for…good behavior," Brennan informed her dully. "And he's been…in touch."

Finally, she told Angela everything about the past several weeks. The flowers and the phone calls, the truth about who Hodgins and Sweets saw at the diner.

When Brennan finished, though, the level of fear on Angela's face surprised her.

"Sweetie, you have got to tell Booth. This is…this is bad. This video…he's following you, Brennan. He knows where you live, he knows about Booth and Parker…"

"He's obsessed," Brennan reminded her softly. "I told you that. All those letters from prison…this isn't so different, it's just that he's capable of more now that he's free."

"You know what he's capable of, Bren," Angela said sharply. "What that man did to you…"

"I can handle it, I…he had too many advantages before. I was unprepared, but now…I've beaten far more capable opponents than Sean Lowell, Ange." She set her jaw, stubborn. "I'm not afraid of him."

"You're shaking, Sweetie," Angela told her softly, her hand on Brennan's arm.

Brennan closed her eyes, and for a long moment both women were silent. Finally, Angela told her gently, "Bren, you put him in jail. Your testimony did that, and he's…he's had a long time in prison to decide to take a more lethal approach to things." She waved a hand at the tape. "He's obviously doing all this for a reason, Bren. I know you can take care of yourself, but Booth has a right to know, and he can do something, he can arrest this guy."

"It wouldn't be FBI jurisdiction," Brennan tried lamely, though her heart was sinking. She knew, somehow, that Angela was right.

This tape wasn't something she could ignore.

"Still. You have to tell him." Her tone softening, Angela reached out and gave Brennan's arm a gentle squeeze. "Booth would never let him hurt you, Sweetie."

"I…" Brennan sighed. "If I tell him about Sean being out of prison and doing all this…I'll have to explain everything."

"You never told him any of it?" Angela asked gently.

"Some, I…I told him about one letter. But he thinks it's the only one. And I…I told him Sean used to get physically violent, but nothing else. Oh, and he knows about the car trunk."

"You have to tell him," Angela told her again, smiling sympathetically. She studied her best friend for a moment, her heart going out to Brennan as she took in the genuine fear in her eyes; fear not connected to the current threat of Sean Lowell. "Bren, how come you could tell me and not Booth?"

"Because…" Brennan felt her cheeks flushing. "Because Booth and I are…I mean, I…" Her voice trailed off, but somehow Angela guessed what she was thinking.

"Hey…." When Brennan glanced back at Angela, she saw her best friend's eyes had gone unusually bright. "You know, Bren, that it won't change anything about the way Booth feels about you. You have to know that."

"I do," Brennan replied quietly.

And maybe she did. But she could still remember the boy her sophomore year of college, the first guy she'd ever really dated. He was in her organic chemistry class, and after two months of dating, she'd made a calculated, rational decision to have sex with him.

They'd been in her dorm room, after dinner and a movie, and the evening had been good. But the second her clothes were off, the second he touched her, Brennan felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

She was struggling to breathe, and suddenly she felt sick, helpless and exposed, and she'd started to cry. Hard, shuddering sobs, the kind of crying she never did in front of anyone else.

The boy had been panicked, leaping off her and insisting he was stopping, over and over, as though afraid he might be accused of something.

"It was your idea! Jesus, I never said…I'm stopping, I'll go, I swear!"

But she'd told him, breathlessly, not to go. She'd liked him, actually, and was fully aware of how she must seem to him.

Like a freak.

So, she'd told him the truth, the first time she'd spoken about it since the trial and the few sessions with a state paid therapist she'd been sent to by her social worker. She didn't tell him everything, but she told him enough.

And he'd been sweet, and he'd hugged her, kissed her sweetly and said it was okay.

But Brennan hadn't missed the way his face changed when she said the word out loud. And she certainly didn't miss the way he started avoiding her in class, the way he never her called again and pretending they'd never dated.

She understood. He didn't want someone damaged, someone who started out so dirty and broken. Why would he?

"Brennan," Angela's soft, gentle voice shook Brennan out of her reverie. "Promise me. This…this really scares me, Sweetie, so promise that you'll go tell Booth."

Brennan knew, of course, that Booth was not like Adam Garret, the first and only boy she'd ever told. Booth was in love with her, and somehow even Brennan knew that made a huge difference.

But she was in love with Booth, too, and for that reason, it would be even harder to watch his face when he found out the truth, to know that something about the way he saw her would change forever.

"I'll tell him," she finally agreed, her heart dropping with the words.

~(B*B)~

Brennan took the next morning off, without telling Booth, thankful that they were between cases. She drove on her own to a prosecutor's office, where it took two hours of waiting, lots of name dropping and references to her FBI work, but finally, she had what she'd came for.

She drove back to DC, towards the Hoover, her chest tight, her hands shaking slightly on the wheel.

This was a coward's method, and Brennan was fully aware of it. But she couldn't do it, couldn't look at Booth when she told him everything, all the details. She'd always hated talking about it, and she was certain she wouldn't be able to get through it with Booth looking at her with that unlikely mixture of anger and concern and sympathy and so much love it made her ache.

When she entered his office, Brennan was clutching the thick, rubber banded file against her chest like a shield.

Booth looked up, surprise lighting his face, followed by a smile. "Hey!" He stood up, coming around his desk to kiss her. He grinned. "Glad you stopped by, I was starting to miss ya." Booth leaned against the edge of his desk, his eyes falling on the file in her arms. "What's that? You got a case?"

Brennan was quiet for a second, finding it difficult to meet his eyes.

Finally, uneasily, Booth prompted, "Bones?"

She lifted her head, her eyes welling with tears as she met his. "I really love you, Booth," she told him softly, her voice fragile.

Instantly, his eyes darkened, the look on her face scaring him. "I…I love you, too, Bones, what…what is it? What's wrong?"

"I've been lying to you," she admitted. It was taking everything Brennan had to maintain eye contact. "I…I told you nothing was wrong, but I lied."

Booth's eyes were pools of terror as he looked at her, his hands coming up to cradle Brennan's face. "Bones, what happened? Please…"

"My old foster father, Sean Lowell, the one who locked me in the trunk of the car…you remember me telling you about him?"

"Yes," Booth gritted out, eyes flashing. "What-?"

"He's out of prison. He got out last month it's…a few years early. And he's been…he's been sending me things."

Booth shook his head slightly, uncomprehending. "What…what kind of things? What do you mean?"

"Flowers and…and cards. And he calls and hangs up…" She paused, unable to hold his eyes as she admitted, "He's been writing me letters for years from jail, it wasn't just the one I showed you….I didn't want to tell you because…" Her voice broke. "…because then I'd have to tell you the truth about…about what he did. To me. And…and I couldn't."

"Bones…" Booth's voice was low, and he leaned close to her, one hand threading through the silk of her hair, cradling her head. "Bones, you can tell me anything. It's okay…"

But she was shaking her heading, stepping back away from him, ducking her head to hide the tears that had escaped and were rolling slowly down her cheeks. "I can't. I'm sorry, I just…I just can't."

Booth took a step toward her, his arms out, but Brennan thrust the folder to him to stop him.

"I brought you this," she told him thickly. "Everything's in there, it's…it's the file on his case, everything that got him convicted." She choked on a sob suddenly, backing toward the door. "I'm so sorry, Booth, I couldn't tell you myself, I just can't…"

"Bones, wait a second," Booth protested, his chest constricting painfully, panic descending over him.

"I have to go back to the lab," Brennan murmured, swiping her sleeve under her eyes. "I'm sorry. Just…just look at that."

"Bones-"

"I love you," she whispered again, a desperate note in her voice that made Booth's chest ache. Then she turned, and left him alone, his hands wrapped around the large folder, holding the truth of her.

Author's Note: Okay. So that was chapter one. Hopefully you're still intrigued and interested. This chapter was mostly set up, but I really like how it turned out, so I'm anxious to hear what you think.

Also, without giving too much away, I will say…this isn't a typical 'Brennan gets a stalker, is eventually kidnapped by stalker, Booth saves the day' story. The main thread of the plot hasn't been revealed yet. What happens at the end of next chapter is the game changer.

I'm such a tease. Review away, let me know what you liked or didn't, and the update will be coming at you soon! Thanks for reading guys!