Author's Note: Hey everyone, sorry for the massive delay on this, I had an unusually busy week at school and last weekend ending up going home unexpectedly. Anyway, it's another long chapter, and includes, as promised, the game changer. So I hope it's a little worth the wait. I've got a busy week coming up with a pretty heavy shooting schedule for my documentary project, but we're taking it in shifts so I should have time to get the chapter anyway. Song this chapter is 9 Crimes. Thanks so much for being patient and reading….let me know what you think of this one!

A Note: Also, there's a lot of legal research being done for this story, and though we're trying to be as accurate as possible, I don't have a team of researchers….just Google. So there are a couple of details we're unsure about, like whether the case would be federal (thinking no, since no state lines were crossed in the actual stalking) but if there are any little inaccuracies, just bear with my Google tools haha.

Chapter Three

9 Crimes

It's the wrong time
She's pulling me through
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse

Is that alright?
I give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright?
If you do'nt shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it?

Brennan could literally feel Booth's tension; her chin was hooked over his shoulder, and she could detect the tightening of his muscles as he sped through the images on her laptop.

Finally, he paused the video file, freezing an image of Brennan entering the Jeffersonian. It seemed to have been taken from across the street, slightly diagonal. "This is from this morning," he said finally, speaking through clenched teeth.

"I know," Brennan replied quietly.

A low sound, almost like a growl, rose from Booth's throat. Brennan's arms were around him, and Booth hooked his fingers through hers, the gentleness of his thumb caressing her knuckles contrasting with the angry sound. "You kept the original tape?"

"Yes, and the envelope. And all the cards from the flowers. He didn't leave any fingerprints, Booth, I checked at the lab."

Booth's muscles seemed to stiffen even more, but he only nodded. Slowly exhaling, Booth turned around, facing Brennan and everything they'd spread out over the bedspread.

Every letter Sean Lowell had sent her over the years was open on the bed, lying on top of its original envelope. The case file was there, too, though neither of them had the courage to open it again.

"Okay," Booth said softly, his eyes darting from letter to letter. "Okay…we should look into tracing the phone calls…"

"I did," Brennan told him. "When he started calling my cell phone, he didn't block the calls…they were from pay phones, Booth."

A muscle was jumping in Booth's jaw. "So he's not a complete idiot," he said finally. "It doesn't matter. We'll get him…he's on parole, we can locate him, no problem. This is already grounds for harassment."

Brennan bit her lip, hesitating. "There's no proof, Booth. The evidence, it's…it's circumstantial. No hard evidence."

"Those cards have the same phrase as the letters, Bones," Booth reminded her. "And it's not…the way he words it is strange. Original."

"It's still not enough."

Booth met Brennan's eyes, wanting to be frustrated by her maddening logic. But he could see the fear in her eyes, and Booth forced himself to smile reassuringly as he reclaimed her hand. "Doesn't matter." He tapped his knuckles once against the laptop screen. "There's still this, remember? He wants to wander around after you with a camera, it shouldn't be difficult to catch him in the act."

She nodded, eyes lingering on the screen. "Should we…" She paused, willing a casual voice. "Should we get a restraining order?"

Booth paused, then said gently, "Not yet, I don't think. He's been passive so far….that may provoke him." Brennan curled her lips together, and Booth wrapped an arm around her. "I'm not going to let him come near you, Bones. Restraining order or not. You…you aren't going anywhere alone, alright?"

Brennan turned to look at Booth, her eyes glinting defiantly. "I'm not afraid of him, Booth," Brennan told him firmly. "I couldn't fight back then…he had the obvious advantage in size, and I wasn't properly trained in combat or…defensive techniques. He couldn't hurt me now."

"Yeah, I know," he replied quietly. "Just…it would make me feel better, Bones."

She nodded, secretly grateful, and Booth smiled a little tightly, not saying what he was thinking. The letters from prison, especially, had painted a very clear picture of the depth of Sean's obsession and delusion…the man thought he was in love with Brennan, that she cared for him, too, and that he was the best thing for her.

Booth had seen what that kind of delusional fixation could lead to. This man had had many long years in prison, obsessed with the sixteen year old version of Brennan. Now that he was out, he would discover the implications of Brennan being older and, as she pointed out, free from his control.

It wasn't too difficult to imagine that Sean Lowell might decide that if couldn't have Brennan…no one should.

Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on Brennan as she leaned against him. "It's gonna be fine, Bones," he murmured. "It'll be over soon. I promise."

~(B*B)~

That night, Brennan fell asleep faster and easier than she had in weeks. Telling Booth, or at least letting him find out, had been a surprising relief.

As much as Brennan was continually reminding herself that she had no reason to be afraid of Sean anymore, the most significant difference from the last time this had happened was that she was no longer alone.

Booth, though, lay awake long after Brennan drifted off. They were lying on their sides, bodies curled together, his arm wrapped securely around her waist.

Booth's whole body felt heavy, somehow, as though everything he'd learned today was literally weighing on him. He felt pulled between the past and the present, still processing everything Sean had done to Bones back then with the threat he was presenting now.

He nestled even closer to Brennan, half burying his face in her hair.

It had been hours, and he couldn't get those photos, or Brennan's voice on the tape, out of his head. Booth couldn't allow himself to continue to dwell on what it must have been like for Brennan at that time in her life…it made him sick to his stomach, and it made him want to shake Bones awake and tell her over and over again how much he loved her.

Still, as Booth forcibly shoved these thoughts away, what he was left with was hot, twisted fury as true understanding of what it meant to feel hatred coursed through his veins.

~(B*B)~

"Alright…I guess I'll see you tonight?" There was a question in Brennan's voice, because Booth had put the SUV in park and was now staring out his window across the street from the Jeffersonian.

"What?" he answered, after a too long delay, turning around and looking at Brennan. "Oh, yeah. Unless you wanted lunch?"

"It's Thursday," she reminded him; it was the day of her weekly lunch with Angela.

"Right, right," Booth replied distractedly, his attention out the window again. "I'll come by and get you around five then….if we don't have a case…"

Brennan touched her hand to his arm. "Booth." When he still didn't look at her, she squeezed once, gently. "It's alright."

"I know," he said, giving her a half-smile. "I'm going to look into some stuff today…."

"Like what?"

"Nothing major, Bones, just start seeing what I can do-"

"Don't treat me like a victim, Booth," she cut him off, her voice suddenly hard. "I'm still your partner, I'm not…I'm not a victim."

For the first time since pulling up to the lab, Booth gave Brennan his full attention. "I know you aren't, Bones," he murmured, touching her cheek gently. "I know. I'm going to research where the guy's living, see about touching base with his parole officer. I'd also like to look into the flower shops." Booth's eyes flashed, briefly. "As soon as we get something to tie him to all this, we'll know where to find him, Bones."

"Well, I should come with you," Brennan replied firmly.

"It's okay, Bones…I'm just gonna do it when I have time between paperwork." He reached out, threading his fingers through her hair and softening his voice, "If I need anything, I'll come get you. I promise." She nodded, somewhat reluctantly. "And you call me if you need me, okay?"

"I'll be fine, Booth."

"I know you will." He leaned across the seat, kissing her, slowly and reassuringly. "Love you."

She smiled slightly. "Love you, too."

Brennan opened the car door and had one leg out of the car before Booth stopped her. "Bones, are…where are you and Ange going for lunch?"

"We haven't decided," she answered, tone cautious as she waited to see where he was going with this.

His voice hesitant, Booth suggested, "Maybe you should order in-"

"No, Booth," she interrupted, her voice calm but firm. "I'm not staying hidden in the lab, Booth. I'm not letting him do that to me." Beside her, Booth exhaled slowly, lowering his eyes. Brennan peered at him. "You get that?"

He lifted his gaze, nodding slowly. "Yeah, Bones. You wouldn't be you if you let him." He kissed her again, quickly. "Be careful."

Brennan just nodded, stepping out of the car and standing up. She smiled at Booth before closing the door, and when she turned around at the entrance to the Jeffersonian, Booth was still watching her. He lifted his hand in a wave, and Brennan smiled again before entering the building.

~(B*B)~

As soon as Bones was out of sight, Booth drove the SUV to his usual place in the Jeffersonian parking deck and began on foot across the street from the lab, to the place where some of the video clips seemed to be taken.

Booth surveyed the section of the street for nearly twenty minutes, lingering in one spot for a few minutes before switching positions, his eyes darting the whole time.

Finally, he moved back to his car, gritting his teeth in frustration as he got in his car and reluctantly drove away from Brennan.

~(B*B)~

"It's good that you told him," Angela said quietly when Brennan was finished giving a brief summary of yesterday. She offered Brennan a smile. "I know it wasn't easy."

"I didn't exactly tell him," Brennan reminded her flatly. "I gave him the file."

"Still." Angela paused, sipping her water. "It makes me feel better."

"It's just…" Brennan sighed. "There's nothing to hold him, Angela. He…he's gotten smarter, and…there's nothing to hold him on." She glared down at her plate for a moment. "Even if…if the card on the flowers was enough…it's not a crime."

"Sweetie….that tape was harassment. Stalking."

"But we have no proof that he sent it," Brennan repeated. "No automatic connection to the flowers. Legally…it's going to be difficult to take any action."

Angela watched Brennan for a long moment, then finally said quietly, "You mean until he tries something. Don't you?"

"That is the most likely scenario, yes." Brennan's voice was mild, but after a pause she added resolutely. "That isn't a problem, Ange. I can fight him now, I'm very adept at-"

"I know, you said…" Angela murmured. "But Brennan…" She paused, drawing a breath before finally saying what Booth hadn't been able to. "…what if he isn't just fighting you this time? If he's figured out that…he can't just knock you around anymore?"

Brennan blinked at her for a moment, then shook her head. "I've been carrying my gun. Booth knows now, what…what else can I do, Angela?"

"I…nothing, I know. Just…I want you to be careful, okay, Brennan? I know you're trying not to be afraid of him-"

"I'm not."

"Brennan….it's okay if you are. But no matter what…you need to be careful. He…he has stayed fixated on you for, like, twenty years, Brennan. It's not about him being stronger than you, or smarter than you, it's…he's unhinged, Brennan."

"I know, Angela, I…I know that. But I can't…I can't let him…control my life, I can't let him scare me away-"

"Well, he scares me," Angela cut in, her voice fierce. "Him being out, looking for you, knowing where you live…Look, I…I know you guys are doing everything you can. But just…let Booth help take care of you, alright?"

"I…I will." Brennan gave her a small smile, arching an eyebrow. "You don't think I can take care of myself?"

Angela smiled back, her eyes shining with equal parts affection and concern. "I think sometimes you're a little too reckless for your own good, Brennan. I think sometimes you try so hard not to be scared that you forget to be cautious….but I know Booth would never let anyone hurt you."

~(B*B)~

"Agent Booth?" Booth stood at the sound of his name, and the man in front of him stuck out his hand. "Michael Adamson. Come on in."

Booth followed the younger man into the small cluttered office. Once they were seated on either side of the desk, Michael smiled mildly at him. "So what can I do for you?"

"One of your recent, uh…parolees. Sean Lowell. What can you tell me about him?"

"Sean, right…" Michael folded his hands. "You know his record I assume?"

"I'm familiar," Booth replied tersely.

"Well, he, uh…he earned his parole. Never had a disciplinary board or write up…he went through AA, early on in his sentence, and then he started sponsoring other inmates…honestly, he was a model prisoner."

"Good for him," Booth practically snarled, surprised again by the force of is anger, and his inability to suppress it.

Michael was eyeing Booth suspiciously. "What's this about, Agent Booth?"

"I'm asking the questions right now," Booth said aggressively, and he could see the change on Michael's face, the moment he wrote Booth off as another belligerent federal guy with a superiority complex.

"Well, unless you get specific, I can't help you much," Michael said, his tone now clipped and dismissive. "He hasn't violated the terms of his parole, he checks in regularly, attends all his counseling sessions…"

"What are the other terms of his parole?" Booth interrupted. "Anything about contacting his victim?"

Michael's eyebrows drew together. "Yeah, he's not allowed any contact what…has something happened that I need to know?"

Booth swallowed hard. If he voiced unproven suspicions, it wouldn't result in Sean's parole getting revoked. It would only make his parole officer ask him about it, which could, like a restraining order, provoke Sean to make a move earlier than he would have.

"I just need some information from him," Booth said gruffly. "I'm going to need his address."

~(B*B)~

Booth spent the rest of the day investigating. He drove by the Jeffersonian and Brennan's place, checking areas where the video had been filmed. He passed Sean's apartment building, just to get a look. He made attempts to trace flower deliveries, all dead ends.

By the end of the day, as he drove to the Jeffersonian to pick up Brennan, Booth had finally admitted to himself what he'd been trying to deny since yesterday.

The justice system, the system he trusted and believed in and worked for, couldn't help them. Not yet, anyway, and he wasn't going to sit around and wait for this guy to go after Bones for him to be able to fix it.

Still, when Brennan got in the car outside the lab, all Booth told her was, "Good news, Bones. Condition of Lowell's parole is that he can't have any contact with his victim. So the second he approaches you or…we prove he's sending something, we got him. Don't even need the restraining order."

"That's…alright." Brennan studied his face. "Anything else?"

"I figured out where he lives."

Brennan watched her for another minute, and Booth half smiled at her, though it was stiff and forced. Finally, she nodded. "That's good."

~(B*B)~

As soon as they entered Booth's apartment hallway, they saw the flowers. A bouquet of tulips were leaning against the doorway, and they could just see the white card tucked among them.

Both of them froze, staring, this first sign that he'd been inside Booth's place as well as her own.

"Don't touch it," Booth murmured unnecessarily. "We'll check for fingerprints."

"It's unlikely he'll stray from his pattern now, Booth. Nothing else has had fingerprints." Still, as she spoke, she reached into her bag and pulled out the extra pair of gloves she carried.

She bent down and picked them up, then paused. "Booth…"

He'd been checking the door, assuring that the locks were still locked, when he looked down at her. Brennan craned her neck holding up what had been stuck in the back of the flowers…several photographs of Brennan, taken in the same places the video had been.

Booth set his jaw, and nodded once. "Okay."

They were quiet as they entered the apartment and secured the flowers and photographs in evidence bags. Booth watched as Brennan tugged off her gloves and threw them away. She glanced up, her eyes meeting his, and in two strides he crossed the space between them and pulled her into his arms.

~(B*B)~

"Booth, Angela said something…"

Brennan had been lying on his chest, but as she spoke she shuffled back slightly in the bed so she could look at Booth, their faces inches away.

"What'd she say?" He murmured quietly.

"I was talking about how it would be difficult to take legal action against him and…she said…she said until he tries something." She paused, waiting for Booth to interject, to correct her. When he didn't, Brennan continued, "And I think she's right."

For a long moment Booth was quiet, not wanting to admit that he'd come to that same conclusion. Finally, he said in low voice, "No. I'll…I'll figure out something. We'll catch him out on something, Bones." He kissed her quickly, sealing a promise, and Brennan snuggled closer again. After a moment of quiet, though, Booth said tentatively, "Do you think we should talk to Sweets to-"

The psychologists name had barely left Booth's lips before Brennan was pulling away, sitting up in horror. "Booth, no!"

"Bones, look, Sweets is a good profiler and…the level of this guy's attachment to you, he's pretty messed up." He touched her cheek, soothingly. "Maybe Sweets'll know how you make someone this obsessive get sloppy, you know, show himself?"

Brennan's lips were pinched, her face pale in the darkness. "No. He can't know about this, none of them can. I…I told Angela because she knew about him already, for years now, but…you cannot tell Sweets."

"Okay," Booth agreed instantly, hearing the distress in her voice even if he couldn't see her face. "Okay, we don't have to tell any of them." He tugged on her hand, wordlessly telling her to lay back down. "It's alright."

"Thank you," she murmured, the tension alleviating from her body as she curled beside him again.

"I think we need to file a report, though," he said warily when she'd settled against him.

Brennan sighed, but she didn't sit up. "Why?"

"Because, unless he crosses state lines to…stalk, it's not FBI jurisdiction. If…when we prosecute this asshole, we're going to have to involve the locals, so…it looks better if we have a prior report."

There was a long silence, then Brennan agreed softly, "Alright."

"Don't worry…I'll make it clear they aren't to go question him until we have something to hold him on. Don't want to make him even more careful."

"Good."

Booth pressed his lips against her hairline. "I love you, Bones."

"Love you, too," she replied.

They grew quiet, then, but both lay awake for a long time, reviewing evidence or contemplating the next steps.

~(B*B)~

For the next week or so, nothing progressed, much to Booth's frustration. He filed a report with some local cops he knew, none of whom seemed happy with the federal agent ordering them how to do their jobs, basically informing them that he was filing a report as a formality, but it was his case.

Booth obsessively checked any spot near their apartments or workplaces where it looked like a camera had been. He arrived to pick Brennan up from the lab an hour early and loitered across the street, trying to spot Sean Lowell.

He got nothing, yet there was another envelope of photographs left outside his apartment door.

The latest flowers, or either batch of photographs, were as free of fingerprints as everything else. The cards left were all typed.

Still no evidence. Not a glimpse of the guy since Sweets and Hodgins saw in the diner.

That night, Brennan woke up in a cold sweat, shaking from an old nightmare, to find the sheets cool and empty beside her.

"Booth?" She rasped out, not yet awake enough to conceal her panic. "Booth…"

As her surroundings cleared somewhat, Brennan could make out the sliver of light coming through the cracked bedroom door, from the living room. Her mouth going dry with irrational fear, she reached toward the bedside table, where she transferred her gun to every night, and grabbed it with shaking fingers before standing and moving toward the living room.

She moved stealthily out of the room, creeping along the edge of the wall and peering into the living room before she exhaled slowly, her lungs releasing.

Booth was sitting on the couch in the living room, hunched over something, a single lamp on as a light source. He turned around suddenly, eyebrows lifting as he saw her standing there, gun lifted.

"Don't shoot?" He joked half heartedly, his stomach twisting as he attempted to shuffle the papers in front of him, a part of him already knowing it was useless.

Her fear dissolving, Brennan's eyes flashed and she glared at him. "What the hell are you doing?" She put the gun down on the nearest table and started toward him.

"I'm sorry," Booth started lamely. "I didn't want to wake you."

Brennan sunk beside him on the couch. "What are you…" Her voice trailed off, throat tightening.

Sean Lowell's original case file was spread out on the coffee table in front of Booth. He reached out, flipping over the pictures of Brennan that were just visible among the mess, but he wasn't quick enough.

She tugged it free, away from his grip, and stared at her sixteen year old self with a dazed expression. Then, forcefully, she slammed it face down on the table. "Why are you looking at all this?"

"I…I don't know, Bones, I just…I need to find something. There has to be some valid, legal reason I can get this guy thrown back in jail and it's just…it's not fair that there isn't!"

His voice came out louder, angrier than he'd intended, and Brennan instantly touched her hand to his back, fingers stroking his tight muscles. Booth rubbed a hand over his face, sighing shakily, and then leaned his head briefly against Brennan's. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No, it's okay…" She paused. "I know it's bad, Booth. You don't have to pretend for me."

"It's not bad, Bones, it's…it's just frustrating." He straightened, forcing himself to smile at her. "I'm going to get him, Bones, I just…I just wish it was easier. Guys like this…they don't deserve to be walking around."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, and Booth reached out and grabbed Brennan's hand.

"I hate him," Booth said suddenly, his voice rough. "I hate him so much, Bones."

"I know."

"I want him to pay, I want to pay so much more than he did in prison but…but I can't even get him for this. We know it's him, we know he wants to try something but we just…we can't prove it." He paused, sucking air.

"We will," Brennan told him quietly, assuring him for once, understanding for the first time just how important this was to Booth as well as her. She remembered what Angela said, about letting Booth take care of her. "You will, Booth."

He squeezed her hand, nodding hard. "I will."

They sat for awhile in the silence, until Booth broke it abruptly. "Bones, can you drive yourself to the lab tomorrow?"

She sat up to look at him, confused. He'd been insisting on dropping her off recently. "I…of course."

"I'm going to leave now…I'm gonna go to his apartment building and wait for him to come out. And then…I'm going to follow him."

"Booth, what if-"

"No, Bones," he said firmly. "This ends now. He's sending photos of you every other day, he's obviously following you…I catch him at it, with a camera, and we got him."

Slowly, Brennan nodded. "I can see the logic in that." She paused, expression uncertain. "You have to go now?"

He nodded, kissing her softly before standing up. "I'm ending this," he said again, voice firm. Brennan followed him into the bedroom, watching as he pulled on clothes, forgoing the suit for more casual clothes. "Don't worry, Bones, I won't let him hurt you."

"I'm not worried."

"Lunch with Angela today, right?" Without waiting for an answer, Booth told her, "Don't go anywhere alone, alright?

"Booth-"

"Promise me." He paused, looking at Brennan imploringly. "Just in case."

"I promise."

"Thank you." He kissed her, fiercely, leaning his forehead against hers briefly when he pulled away. "I love you."

"Please be careful, Booth," she told him in response.

"Don't worry about me." Booth gave her a smile, laced with determination. "It's almost over Bones."

~(B*B)~

Booth had memorized Sean Lowell's mug shot, and though it had been taken twenty years ago, he had no doubt that he'd recognize the guy. You couldn't hate someone so deeply and not know his face.

He parked on the street; the building was old and run down, and Booth was able to see both the front and side entrances. It wasn't even five a.m., but he felt wide awake as he settled back in his car, completely alert as he fixed his gaze on the building, waiting.

The sun rose. People began exiting and entering the building. Booth called Hacker's secretary to let his boss know he was 'looking into a lead on something'.

The time Brennan typically arrived at the lab came and went. Booth checked in with her, made sure she was there.

It took six hours, and Booth was having to force himself not to drift off, before it happened.

A man exited, a hat on his head, his face turned away from Booth's car. Still, Booth knew. His muscles tightened, body stiffening, and he stared at the hunched figure, waiting for confirmation.

He got one glimpse of the face. The weathered face and graying hair couldn't disguise him; it was Sean Lowell.

Booth cranked the car, surprised by the force of the anger that surged alive in him, his hands tightening on the wheel, his foot literally shaking with the desire to slam on the gas pedal, to flatten this man against the pavement and be done with him.

Still, he made himself wait until Sean Lowell pulled out in an ancient blue pickup truck and started down the road.

Booth followed at a reasonable distance, sudden lightheaded and dizzy. He had to force himself to keep the car slow, distanced from Lowell's.

Had to keep himself from giving into an instinct, from turning on his siren and guiding this guy to some clearing, finishing him off, quick and easy. Ending it all, for good.

Booth got caught behind a red light, and he lost sight of Lowell. Again, he resisted the urge for the sirens; he couldn't make his presence known.

He stared around, having been so fixated on keeping himself from doing something rash that he hadn't noticed the direction they were driving.

They were dangerously close to the street where the diner was.

As soon as the light switched to green, Booth slammed his foot on the gas, driving for several minutes before he was turning onto the street.

Brennan's car was parked across the street from the diner, easily in view if Sean had driven by here. She'd recently forgone her avoidance of the diner, out of some defiant need to prevent Sean Lowell from keeping her from living her life as usual.

Booth slowed in the middle of the street. He didn't see the pickup anywhere, but he didn't expect to. He scanned the surroundings, looking for a prime photography spot.

Then, he saw Sean Lowell rounding the corner, heading down the sidewalk to the diner.

Booth swerved into a parking spot, and jumped out of the car, the blood pounding in his head. He braced his hands on the cars on either side of him, physically stopping himself from running at this guy.

He had to wait. He had to have a reason.

Sean stopped a few yards away from the diner windows, staring inside.

He reached into his jacket pocket, and withdrew a camera.

Booth started to run, across the street, one hand already on his gun.

"FBI, you're under arrest," he yelled, breathless. He didn't miss the flicker of recognition on Sean Lowell's face before it melded into a look of utter confusion as he held up his hands.

"There a problem?"

Booth wrenched the camera from Sean's grasp, shoving him against the side of the building with as much force as he was allowed. "Sean Lowell, you're under arrest for harassment and aggravated stalking."

"I have no idea what you're talking about-"

"The fuck you don't," Booth snarled, up against the man's ear, not loosening his grip. "I know what you did. I know what you did to her you sick son of a bitch."

Instantly, Sean dropped the pretense. Calmly, as though half his face wasn't rubbing brick, he said, "Then you know I paid for my crime. Whether or not you think it's sufficient…I'm a free man."

Booth had a hold on the back of his head, and he pulled back slightly and slammed it against the wall. His hands were physically itching, to hurt this man more, to cause more pain.

"You'll never pay for what you did, far as I'm concerned. If it were up to me…you'd have been dead a long time ago." He snapped the handcuffs around Sean's wrists with as much force as he could manage. "Luckily for me, though, you weren't smart enough to let it go."

"Booth?"

Booth froze instantly, looking up at the sound of Angela's voice.

She and Brennan had just exited the diner and were standing frozen on the sidewalk.

Booth's eyes snapped instantly to Brennan, who was staring at Sean with a stricken expression, her eyes huge and terrified.

The look on her face brought to mind the photographs in the file, her voice on the tape.

"Bones…" he murmured, wanting to tell her to go back inside, to not even be in Sean's presence.

Sean, though, turned his head with difficult, and a slow smile spread. "Temperance. Finally. We meet again."

A growl rose from Booth's throat and in the next second Sean was on the ground, thrown down unceremoniously, his handcuffed hands making it impossible for him to catch himself. Booth bent next to him, driving his knee into the older man's back.

"Do not fucking say her name," Booth spat, every syllable vibrating with fury. "Don't look at her, don't even fucking think about her."

"You're making a mistake," Sean grunted out. "I haven't done anything."

Ignoring him, Booth glanced back over his shoulder. Brennan was still staring, frozen, looking like she might pass out. "Ange, get her out of here. Now," he commanded firmly.

Somehow, this directive seemed to get through to Brennan. Her voice faint, she asserted, "I'm coming with you."

"Go back to the lab."

"I'm coming with you, Booth," Brennan repeated, voice slightly stronger.

"Let her come," Sean choked out from below. "You know me, Temperance, you know they're wrong."

Booth drove his knee harder into Sean's back. "What did I say?" He looked back at Brennan. "I'm taking him to the Hoover, okay, Bones?" He paused. "Angela can drive you there."

"Come on, Sweetie," Angela, pale and shaky, tugged on her best friend's arm. "We'll meet him there."

Brennan allowed herself to be led across the parking lot, though her eyes never left Booth and Sean.

"You have the right to remain silent…"

~(B*B)~

"What are you saying?" Booth said, his voice low to keep himself from yelling.

Michael Adamson, Sean's parole officer, shrugged. They were standing outside an interrogation room, where Sean was waiting, handcuffed inside, with his lawyer, Christina Shaw.

"I'm saying you're lucky she's not looking into brutality," Michael told Booth bluntly. "Sean says you threw him to the ground, unprovoked. Even probable cause for arrest…"

"He was outside the damn building with a camera," Booth shot back. "She's been getting photos and videos of someone following her and…he parked a block away so he could do it!"

"No photos on the camera," Michael reminded him, unnecessarily. He narrowed his eyes. "You should have told me what was going on last week. I had a right to know he was under suspicion, I could've given you information-"

"Yeah, you seem real eager to help me out here, Mike." Booth brushed past him and entered the interrogation room.

"You ready to talk to me, Sean?" Booth demanded, returning to his place across the table.

"I pulled out my camera because I was looking for my phone in my pocket," the man repeated mildly for the probably the tenth time. "I've been a frequent customer of the diner. I had no idea Temperance was inside."

"Why'd you move to D.C. in the first place?" Booth demanded. "Seems like an odd choice to me, getting out of jail in Ohio."

"My wife's lived here for the past ten years," Sean replied evenly. "They allowed me to be set up with a parole officer here."

"Your wife, huh?" Booth arched an eyebrow. "No record of you living with her. So you can see how I might be suspicious."

"We're reconciling. Working through things."

Again, Booth felt his chest tighten in rage. "Things, huh? Things like you raping a sixteen year old girl?"

"Agent Booth," Christina Shaw said coolly, affecting the look of bored condescension he so hated in lawyers. "If there was any evidence connecting my client to the photos and videos you mentioned, I'm certain he would have heard from you by now. You've no cause to hold him."

Booth leaned on his fist, shifting his murderous gaze, for the first time, from Sean to the lawyer. "You were his lawyer the first time around, right?"

"I was."

"So you know what he did," Booth told her, his eyes blazing. "You know what he did and you tried to get him out of it. And now you're trying to keep him on the streets…"

"Agent Booth," Christina said, her voice unaffected. "You're the angry boyfriend of Mr. Lowell's former victim. Your anger is understandable. But you can see how it might hurt your credibility."

Booth glared at her, hating her, hating that she was right, hating himself for not being able to wait until the man took a single picture….and, more than anything, hating Sean Lowell.

He ignored the lawyer, leaning close to Sean's face, glaring. "You sent flowers," he growled. "You've been following her. You took pictures, video…you just want her to know you're getting closer. You have to know I'm not letting you walk out of here after that."

Sean arched an eyebrow, and repeated his line, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Booth had to step back from the table, pace the room, to stop himself from lunging at the older man's throat. "I can hold you," Booth said. "The cards in those flowers…same signature as all your letters. I can charge you. Hold you overnight…"

"Those charges are groundless," Christina said. "They'll never stick. Frankly, this is a gross abuse of power…a personal vendetta toward revenge." Her eyes flashed. "What was it Sean said that you told him….oh, yes. If it were up to you, he'd have been dead a long time ago."

Booth clenched his jaw, turning away from them. "We're done here," he growled. "Someone'll be by the take you to a holding cell."

~(B*B)~

"What happened?"

Booth had pushed his way through the interrogation booth, ignoring Michael Adamson, to where Angela and Brennan were waiting in the hallway.

Booth made a concentrated effort to force the anger and frustration off his face. He gave Brennan a weak smile. "We're holding him overnight. Gonna get a search warrant for his place, they've got some officers checking it out."

Brennan nodded, the fear from earlier still etched on her face. "The, um…the camera?"

Eyes closing briefly, Booth admitted, "It, uh…nothing was on it. No old photos."

She nodded for a long time, hearing the defeat in his voice. In a small voice, she asked, "The charges aren't sticky, are they?"

"You mean…they're not gonna stick. And…I don't know." He shook his head. "There could be all the evidence we need in his apartment. Then we'll know."

"I'm sure there's something," Angela put in reassuringly. "Copies of photos or…flower receipts. Something."

"Yeah," Booth nodded, agreeing. He pulled Brennan against him, hugging her tightly. "Something."

~(B*B)~

"Bones? You awake?"

"Yes." The answer came instantly. Booth trailed his hand up her back; he'd been able to feel her shaking.

"You okay?"

"Seeing….him today…it was….worse than I expected," Brennan admitted painstakingly. "I…I wasn't ready for that."

"You won't be seeing him at all for much longer, Bones," he told her firmly.

"I want to go with you tomorrow. When you get the search warrant," Brennan's voice was determinately brave, and Booth pulled her closer to him.

"Bones, I'm not even going…they're turning him over the local cops…say it's not my jurisdiction," Booth's tone was bitter. "I'll be giving them hell, trust me, but…it's not my investigation."

"Oh." Brennan paused. "He's going to walk, isn't he?"

"I don't know," Booth said honestly, his stomach twisting. This was his fault; he'd failed her. Moved too quickly, and who knows what this guy would do now that he was free.

Booth threaded his fingers through Brennan's hair, closing his eyes and promising himself that he'd fix it.

~(B*B)~

"What do you mean, you found nothing?" Booth narrowed his eyes at the officers in front of him.

Peter Jacobs and Eric Durban exchanged glances. Jacobs spoke. "Agent Booth, it looked like he barely lived there. Place was practically empty."

Booth felt Brennan's hand on his back, but he didn't look at her, not yet, not wanting to see the disappointment. "No video camera?" He demanded harshly. "No cards, no photos?"

"Nothing," Jacobs repeated, looking a little annoyed. "We know how to do our job, Agent."

"So what happens now?"

Eric grimaced slightly. "Now we release him."

Booth felt Brennan stiffen beside him. "Release him?" Booth exploded. "What about the video tape, the flowers…"

"Agent Booth," Eric reminded him. "When you filed your report you specifically told us not to question Mr. Lowell because there was nothing connecting him to the evidence at that point. Well, there still isn't. We don't have enough to indict him and…honestly, the circumstances of his arrest don't bode in our favor."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Booth demanded, disguising panic with anger.

"It means it doesn't make you look good," Jacobs answered shortly. "We don't have a choice here, Booth. Nothing to back up the charges."

He disappeared toward the holding cell. Eric lingered for a moment, his eyes sliding from Brennan to Booth. "My advice would be to file a restraining order…Judge Evans issues the search warrant, he knows the situation…."

Booth cannot bring himself to murmur a thank you as the officer disappears.

For the first time, Booth turned to look at Brennan. Her face was set, expression resolutely impassive. His, though, was stricken. "Bones, I'm so sorry…."

"Hey…" Instantly, she stepped toward, reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the nape of his neck. "It's not your fault."

"I messed it up," Booth's voice cracked; he was shaking. Brennan immediately wrapped her arms around him.

"It's alright," she murmured again, and they held onto each other until footsteps sounded from behind them.

The officers were back, leading Sean Lowell next to the booking desk. Booth felt Brennan's hand wrap around his wrist, gripping tightly, and he stepped in front of her, shielding her from view.

Officer Jacobs undid Lowell's handcuffs. Sean smiled over at them. "Hope to see you soon, Temperance. "

Some final thread in Booth seemed to snap, and he advanced on the man, his hands clenching into fists even though he couldn't use them. "Hear me on this," he snarled, his face inches from Lowell's. "You touch her, you come near her…I will kill you. That you can trust me on."

Booth's rage was so strong in that moment that he was only dimly aware of Officer Durban pulling him away, of Brennan saying his name, of Sean Lowell's soft laugh as he left the station.

~(B*B)~

For three days, not much happened. Brennan filed for a temporary restraining order, using her and Booth's personal connections to bring a form to a judge directly, avoiding open court.

There would be a hearing in twenty days to expand it, but Booth had no intention of letting this go on that long.

There were two hang up phone calls, but no other evidence that Sean Lowell was continuing his stalking.

Neither of them relaxed; the break in the pattern just made them more uneasy, as though something bigger was coming.

One night, three days after Sean was released, they'd gone back to stay at her apartment. It had been weeks, and it was clear Booth's wasn't any more off of Sean's radar.

Besides, Brennan was determined not to adjust her normal behavior for him. She would not let him scare her away from places, to alter her life as though she was sixteen years old and someone he could control.

Booth was in the guest room, putting sheets on the bed for when Parker joined them that weekend, when there was a knock on the door.

Brennan tensed instantly, and it took her a moment to stand up and walk over. She peered through the peephole, and instantly the air evaporated from her lungs.

Sean Lowell was standing in the hallway.

For a moment, fear paralyzed her. She turned her back to the door, eyes darting, looking wildly for a phone.

Instead, she saw her purse, sitting on the coffee table; her gun still inside.

Suddenly, a strange sense of calm overtook her.

She had no reason to be scared of this man. As she'd told Booth and Angela many times, he was no match for her anymore. He couldn't hurt her. She could do plenty of damage.

She wasn't going to cower in her apartment like a child. She wasn't going to call the police as if she was helpless. She was far more capable than any cop.

Besides, he was violating the restraining order. And his parole. If she left him outside, he could run, and they'd have no way to prove he'd been there. But if she let him….they'd have him.

She opened the door.

"Temperance." He smiled, as though delighted to see her. "So good to see you."

Just this, his voice, his smile, the cool gray eyes, threw her off, memories surging forward. Brennan took several steps back, inching toward the living, toward her purse, toward a phone. "What do you want?"

"I've been waiting so long to see you," he told her, following her inside casually. "And I feel like we got off on the wrong foot the other day. Just wanted to set things right."

Brennan's defensive training, all her skills, seemed suddenly impossible. She couldn't think. His voice was making her dizzy. She strained her ears, listening. "Booth!"

"Oh, don't call him and spoil it," Sean reached out, touching her arm, and just like that instinct returned, and Brennan's elbow was colliding with his jaw, her foot slamming into his shin."

"Bones, what…?"

Booth's voice, from the doorway of the bedroom, through her off just long enough for Sean to straighten up…and send his fist flying against her face.

Booth let out a strangled roar of anger, flying at them, but by the time he crossed the room, Brennan had Sean's arm twisted behind his back, his face against the kitchen table.

Still, when Booth got a look at her, her right cheekbone a fiery red, he could see her eyes were wide with fear, in spite of having him completely under her control.

Booth went to where his holster was hanging, grabbing both his gun and his handcuffs before returning to Brennan's side. His voice dangerously quiet, he told her, "Let him go. I got him."

Gratefully, Brennan let go, stumbling backwards as Booth jerked Sean to a standing position, his hand still holding the other man's arm behind his back. "What did I tell you about touching her?" Booth snarled in his face. "What did I say?"

"I never wanted to hurt Temperance," Sean stated calmly. "She asks for it."

At that, Booth drove his knee into Sean's stomach. Abruptly, he let go of the doubled over man, aiming his gun and ordering, "Step back, take three steps back. Now." Booth knew, somehow, that if he kept a hold on Sean for another second he'd strangle him with his bare hands. Never removing his fiery eyes from Sean's face, Booth said, "Bones, call 911."

Everything was rushing at Booth, the file, the hospital reports, the audio tape of Brennan's interview, the photos of her beaten body. How scared she'd looked then, and how scared he made her look even now.

"You are a sick. Poisonous. Disgusting. Bastard," Booth gritted out. "What you did to her, you should burn in hell."

"Booth…" Brennan's voice was quiet, pleading. For what, though, he didn't know. Brennan was behind him, and Booth began backing up, knowing she'd follow, some instinct wanting to put all the distance he could between Bones and Sean Lowell.

"You don't know anything," Sean told him, still maddeningly calm, his eyes darting to Brennan even as he spoke to Booth. "You don't know. She liked it. You wanted it, right, Temperance?"

"Shut your mouth. Do not talk to her."

"You thought you were too good for me, Temperance," Sean said, eyes glowing as he looked at her. "You wanted to go whore around-"

"I am warning you," Booth spoke through clenched teeth. Brennan was just behind him, her hand on his back, not moving to call the police.

"You think you're so good now. You think it's better to be his whore-"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Booth roared, his sanity slipping, Brennan's voice murmuring his name, her voice on the tape playing in his head.

He raped me he raped me he raped me…

"It makes me sad, Temperance. If I'd have stayed around, you wouldn't have become an FBI agents filthy little slut….let me show you how it's done-" He started toward her, his hand out, two steps forward, his hand out….

And then Booth squeezed the trigger twice, two gunshots piercing the atmosphere around them.

Sean collapsed on the ground, clutching his stomach. His mouth opened and closed, trying to scream, blood bubbling out instead of sound.

For a long, still moment, silence screamed around them.

"Oh, God…." Booth said finally, his voice strangled. His voice was empty of air. "Oh, God…"

Brennan's mouth was open, her whole body shaking. Booth was frozen, his face ashen. She reached out, gently prying the gun from his hand, touching his arm. "Booth…Booth…"

Sean's face was paper white, his body quaking. His own hands splayed across the wound, across his lungs, as he took rattling, liquid breaths.

"I…oh, God." Booth whispered.

"It's okay," Brennan said dazedly, some instinct driving her words.

Her mind was working again, processing the evidence.

She realized Sean was unarmed. That he'd been subdued.

She thought of her restraining order. She thought of Booth's threat to kill Sean Lowell, made in front of two police officers. She touched her free hand, the one not clutching Booth's gun, to her cheek, already tender and swollen. She thought of Parker. Of Booth's job.

Most of all, she thought about the fact that he'd done this for her.

She curled her finger around the trigger of Booth's gun, stroking it lightly, her brain still processing, thinking about the forensics, reconciling them. Distance from Sean, anytime they'd touched him, Booth's gun.

"Booth, it's okay," she told him again. "It'll…it'll be alright I'm just…I'm going to call."

Booth didn't move. He was staring down at the dying man, unable to be sorry for what he'd done, but sick to his stomach as the implications rang in his ears.

It took a focused effort for Brennan to keep her voice steady. "Yes, this is an emergency. This is Dr. Temperance Brennan. A man has been shot….it could be fatal."

"What's the address?" The voice on the phone asked.

"456 Beacon Street. Apartment 307."

"There's a gunshot victim?"

"Yes. We need an ambulance at that address." Booth turned around and looked her suddenly, his eyes wild.

"Who shot the man?"

Brennan paused, holding Booth's gaze. Then, swallowing, her voice steady, she said, "It was me. I shot him."

~(B*B)~

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