Author's Note: Hey, guys. Deepest apologies for the delay. I've been on spring break and I spent more time out of town than in town. Plus, these chapters take a little more time than my previous fics' chapters…not only are they pretty consistently long, but they require some research and planning for the legal aspects. Still, I'm back at school now, and all shooting is done, so I'm hoping to have more time to work.

Again, we have a long chapter, so I hope it makes up for the wait a little bit. Enjoy, and definitely let me know what you think! Song is "Dare You to Move" by Switchfoot. Oh, and I don't know if anyone cares, but I always mentally cast any original characters…and in my head, Alex, who's featured fairly heavily, is played by Paget Brewster. But feel free to picture her as whoever you need to :D Read away!

Chapter Five

Welcome to the fallout

Welcome to resistance

The tension is here

The tension is here

Between who you are and who you could be

Between how it is and how it should be

I dare you to move

I dare you to move

I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor

I dare you to move

I dare you to move

Like today never happened

Today never happened

Maybe redemption has stories to tell

Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell

Where can you run to escape from yourself?

Booth's stomach clenched the second he saw Angela's name flash on his cell phone, though he didn't immediately connect what the call might mean.

"Hello?"

When Angela answered, her voice was borderline hysterical. "Booth, they…they arrested Bren, they just…they say she killed him, Sean, and, they…they came into the lab and…they had handcuffs…" He could hear her taking shallow breaths, panicking. "Booth, what is going on?"

Booth felt dizzy, and he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to think, to deal with this. "Okay…" He swallowed hard. "Okay, I need to go, Angela. I need to call the lawyer."

"The lawyer? Booth, what-"

"I have to go, Ange, I…sorry." He hung up abruptly, before more questions.

Silence settled around him, and Booth set his jaw, aware of what had begun, hating his inability to stop it, to do anything but watch as Brennan went through hell when it should have been him.

Then he dialed Alex.

~(B*B)~

"Who is he?"

Those were the first words out of Hodgins' mouth when Angela hung up the phone. Angela looked up to find her husband and Cam staring at her expectantly. "Who?"

"The guy they think Brennan killed," Hodgins told her. "You said to Booth…you said 'Sean', like you knew who he was, like Booth would know."

Angela lowered her eyes, away from their curious gazes. "I can't…I can't tell you that."

"Angela, if she's being arrested for his murder, it's going to come out anyway," Cam said rationally. "We can help her, but we need to know what's happening…"

Angela sighed, giving Hodgins a pleading look. Brennan's past with Sean had never been explicitly stated as a secret, but it was always understood. Until Booth, Angela was the only person who knew anything about it. "I'm just...I didn't know anything about him being killed so…we should wait for Booth."

"Okay," Hodgins said softly, a soothing note in his voice. "We should go to Booth's place and wait for him to get back, we…we need to figure out what's going on."

"Agreed," Cam said instantly.

Angela stayed quiet, and Hodgins came forward, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. "It's going to be okay. We're going to go pick up Allegra, and we can go to Booth's place and wait. Alright?"

"We may as well call Sweets," Cam added, already grabbing her coat. "He'll find out soon enough, and we shouldn't make Booth go through this more than once."

~(B*B)~

Brennan was pacing her holding cell, fear pulsing through her veins. They'd said they'd be back to officially book her soon, but she wouldn't get her phone call until that had happened.

She needed to talk to Booth. He'd been all she could think about in the silent ride to the jail; neither of them had expected an arrest this soon, and she hated having to imagine how he was reacting.

Then there was that slight, persistent fear that he would do something stupid, ignoring logic and his own knowledge of the law, and tell someone the truth.

So, she paced.

Brennan wasn't sure how long she'd been inside the cell when footsteps approached.

She was expecting to see some of the officers, coming to book her, but instead, an unfamiliar woman was soon standing on the other side of the bars. "Dr. Brennan? I'm Alex Bennett, your-"

"-my lawyer," Brennan finished. "I know."

"I spoke to the officers, they'll be booking you soon. And then you'll be transferred to the solitary cells."

Brennan's eyebrows drew together. "Why solitary?"

"I insisted on it," Alex informed her. "Mentioned that it would be best considering there are prisoners you put away waiting for trial. Wouldn't be safe for you in general population…more importantly, it reminds them right from the beginning which side of justice you're on."

Brennan stared at her for a moment, as though considering, and then nodded curtly. "I can appreciate that logic."

"They'll arraign you in the morning," Alex continued briskly.

"I know."

"Which means you'll be held in jail overnight, and tomorrow morning I'll make sure they set bail…though there's going to be a fight, considering the severity of the charge."

"I know," Brennan repeated flatly.

Alex nodded, reminding herself that she wasn't dealing with a client unfamiliar with the system. "Right. So do you have any questions?"

"Yes," Brennan said immediately, surprising Alex. Brennan met her eyes intently. "How's Booth?"

"He's…okay," Alex told her uncertainly; the question hadn't been what she'd expected.

Impatiently, Brennan continued, "That's a meaningless statement, considering you have no point of reference with Booth. I need you to be more specific."

For a moment, Alex was quiet, already reevaluating her client. There was real concern and fear under Brennan's impatience, fear not for herself and her upcoming arraignment, but for the man pacing outside the prison.

"He's standing out there at the booking desk, while they tell him over and over again he's not allowed to see you." Brennan closed her eyes briefly, nodding, and Alex continued, "Once they book you, you'll be able to call him."

"I know," Brennan said again then, as an afterthought, added, "Thank you."

"Sure." Alex paused, then told her, "I'm going to get a copy of your statement to the police. Based on the self defense plea, you should be able to make bail. But with your prior charges…the prosecution will be gunning to hold you for the duration of the trial."

Fear flickered briefly across Brennan's features, but she nodded stoically, "I understand."

"But I'll be doing everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen," Alex said firmly. "And I'm usually successful. Though at the very least they'll prevent you from doing any forensic work until the trial's over. So I think we should ask for an expedited trial, emphasize the importance of your work. It also makes a strong statement…the trial's an unnecessary inconvenience, a formality we want to get out of the way, you get the idea."

"Makes sense," Brennan murmured distractedly.

"Alright." Alex paused, waiting. When Brennan said nothing else, Alex simply nodded. "I guess I'll see you in the morning."

~(B*B)~

Booth was muttering threats to the booking agent when Alex reappeared, and Booth turned his attention to the attorney. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Alex said calmly, wondering briefly if Booth would insist that she didn't have a point of reference with Brennan and needed to be more specific.

Instead, the agent shook his head in frustration. "I need to see her. Now."

"You can't," Alex told him. "Not until tomorrow morning, at the arraignment." A muscle pulsed in Booth's jaw, and he glared at her, readying himself for protest. Her voice calm, Alex added, "You know there's nothing we can do about that. But she'll get her phone call soon, so you can at least talk to her."

Booth swung his glare at the booking officer, not placated by this assurance.

"Agent Booth," Alex said firmly. "You need to go home. There's nothing you can do for her tonight. We have to wait until morning, and then I will take care of her."

Booth turned to look at Alex, his gaze fierce, the force in his tone taking her by surprise. "You better." Alex arched an eyebrow at him, and Booth continued, "I know you've had a lot of clients. But you need to believe me when I say that Bones is not like any of them. She doesn't deserve any of this, and I…I can't do anything about it. I can't help her." He narrowed his eyes. "So you have to do it."

Slowly, she nodded. "Okay," she agreed quietly. "I'll do my best."

~(B*B)~

Booth felt bone tired when he walked into his apartment, hating the fact that he was expected to go home and sleep like this was a normal night, like Brennan wasn't spending the night in a jail cell.

When he entered the living room, though, Booth froze.

Sweets and Cam were sitting in chairs, while Hodgins and Angela were next to each other on the couch, their daughter on Angela's lap.

They looked for all the world like they an impending intervention.

Booth's shoulders sagged, exhaustion deepening. "You found the hide-a-key rock?"

"Little sloppy for a former sniper, don't you think?" Hodgins joked half-heartedly.

"Seeley, what the hell happened?" Cam asked softly, her eyes sympathetic and questioning.

Sighing, he sank into the only empty chair in the living room. His eyes snapped to Angela's. "Did you…?"

She shook her head. "I didn't know how much I should say."

"Can one of you please tell us what's going on?" Hodgins asked.

"Sean Lowell was Bones' foster father," he said in a low, mechanic voice, eyes on his folded hands. Booth had lost track of the number of times he'd explained all this. "He went to jail about twenty years ago for…" His voice trailed off.

He was silent for so long that Angela said softly, a catch in her voice, "Bren lived with him and his wife for eight months. Until he went to jail for rape and abuse."

Booth closed his eyes, blocking out the gasps and sighs of his friends' reactions. He let Angela continue, explaining about the letters Sean sent from prison, the incidents that had happened since Sean's release.

"Wait, so, that guy at the diner that Sweets and I saw…" Hodgins and the psychologist exchanged glances.

Sweets suddenly looked horrified. "Oh, my God, I told him she came in there all the time…"

"Told you that was stupid," Hodgins muttered.

Angela cut them off, continuing with what she knew about Booth's attempt to arrest Sean, and then she paused. "That's…that's the last I heard about it."

Booth lifted his head finally. "He came to Bones' place," he recited, his voice rough. "I wasn't…I wasn't in the room. He…he violated the restraining order, he came…he hit her, and Bones held him down but he got away…" Booth sighed, closing his eyes. It was hardest, he found, to tell this lie to their friends. "She shot him and…he died."

For several long, lingering moments, they were all silent, absorbing the information. Then, Angela started slowly, "But how can they arrest her for that? That's…it's self defense, right?"

"Well, that's what the lawyer's going to try to prove," Booth told her in a defeated voice.

"But he came to her house, he violated a restraining order, he attacked…" Hodgins voice was indignant, his eyes wide with anger "That's not enough to get a warrant for arrest….what did they do, bribe a judge?"

"No, it's…they know she's trained in martial arts, they know she's got prior assaults and…you know, the forensics are going to show that there was at least some distance between them, that she'd shoved him away and…they just don't think she had to kill him. There's still no proof that he was stalking, and they think it was…revenge."

Booth closed his eyes. He could remember that flash of grim, manic satisfaction that hit him the second after pulling the trigger, just before the implications of what he'd done sunk in…watching that man collapse in front of him from the force of Booth's gun, it had felt good.

It had been murder. It had been about revenge. It just wasn't Brennan's.

"He would've deserved it," Sweets commented in a quiet voice, and for a brief second Booth met the kid's eyes and nodded slightly.

"But they're wrong," Angela insisted, her voice shaking. "So she's going to…she's going to be released, right? They can't…they can't possibly convict her for that, right?"

Booth could feel Angela's worried, expectant gaze on his, waiting for his reassurance that of course it was all ridiculous. He could feel all of them staring at him, watching for a sign that this was just an inconvenience, probably no different from Brennan shooting a congressman's aid in the leg, all those years ago.

He couldn't tell them that. Instead, Booth was quiet for a long moment before finally, he saying in a quiet, fierce voice, "Well, they better not."

~(B*B)~

The flash went off in front of Brennan's face, and the dispassionate voice behind the camera instructed her to turn, and just like that, Brennan forced herself to detach.

Getting a mug shot taken was not the same as being photographed for evidence, as she had been all those years ago when they'd needed to document every bruise and cut on her body. But the clinical feel of the place, the lack of concern from all the people around her…there were definite similarities.

They gave her a form to fill out, and Brennan focused on each question, compartmentalizing as much as she could so she thought only about the task in front of her. List height, weight, eye color, allergies. There were a number of trivialities to list, and Brennan penciled in each answer with quick efficiency…until she came to the space for her to list distinguishing characteristics.

So Brennan found herself methodically listing scars, many of which Sean Lowell had given her, and she felt a flash of anger that she was going through the same process he had, all those years ago, as though his crime was the same as hers (well, Booth's crime, as some small voice in the back of her head reminded her).

They rolled Brennan's fingers across an ink pad, making three sets of prints. Brennan's fingers were limp, easily controlled by the correctional officers.

They handed her a pair of scrubs, the typical hazard orange, and with a jolt Brennan thought of her father.

"Get undressed," the officer directed her flatly. For a moment, Brennan stared at the scrubs in her hands, not comprehending, and then she heard the snap of rubber gloves from behind her.

Brennan forced detachment again, mentally listing the bones of the hand, something she used to do in college to calm down after waking up from nightmares, as the fingers probed her mouth, ears, and nostrils before dropping lower to more intimate areas. She quickened her mental recitations, forcing away flashbacks of Sean Lowell or the doctors in the hospital after his arrest.

Brennan was shaking slightly when she gratefully pulled the scrubs over her body, watching as one officer haphazardly balled up her discarded clothes and stuffed them in a bag, while the other guard led her away.

In the booking room at the front of the jail again, Brennan was left standing by a phone, and for the first time the tightness in her chest abated. "Go ahead," the officer muttered.

The guard stepped back, giving her the short distance that translates into her right to a private phone call, and Brennan picked up the phone, dialing the number she knew by heart, her connection to something outside the jail.

"Hello?" The word had never sounded so beautiful, even though the exhaustion and tension in Booth's voice was palpable across the phone lines.

"Booth," Brennan breathed his name, gripping the phone tighter as though it meant they were closer.

"Oh, God, Bones…"

Just hearing that, his voice warm and tender around the weight of her name, made Brennan's throat narrow, her vision blurring. "I'm okay," she told him softly. "I'm fine, I promise." She closed her eyes, not wanting to be aware of anything besides Booth's voice.

"I waited to see you, they wouldn't let me in…"

"I know, Alex told me, it's okay…"

"I had to tell everyone, Bones, they were waiting for me, so I had…I had to explain."

"I figured you would have to," she answered quietly. Brennan glanced over, where the correctional officers didn't appear to be listening. "You told them I shot him?"

Booth knew what she was asking. "Yeah, Bones. That's what I told them."

"Okay." Brennan sighed, already dreading the moment she'd have to hang up. "Booth, I'm so sorry…"

"Don't," he said vehemently, his voice catching. "Don't apologize, I should…it should be me, Bones, I should be in there…"

"No you shouldn't," she told him firmly. "And it's just tonight."

Booth didn't correct her, didn't mention that there was always the possibility they wouldn't set bail, and Brennan didn't bring it up.

They were silent for several moments; there was nothing left to say, but neither of them wanted to break the connection.

"I love you," Booth told her finally, his voice soft and thick.

"I love you, too," Brennan whispered back, feeling a warm tear slide slowly down her cheek. "So much, Booth."

"I'm gonna be there in the morning. Front row of the gallery so you just…you just look at me, alright?"

"I will."

"You promise you're okay?"

"I promise."

"I wish…" His voice cracked. "I wish you'd let me change this."

"I can't," she told him softly. "It's best this way. You understand, right?"

"No," Booth told her honestly, his voice rough and unsteady. "I don't, Bones. I can't."

Silence fell again. They were out of things to say again, but they stayed on the phone until Brennan saw the correctional officer stand, eyeing her.

"Booth, I have to go."

"Okay," Booth forced out, his voice tight.

"Love you," she said again, a desperate note in her voice.

"I love you, too," Booth told her softly. "My Bones."

Another tear fell down her face, and Brennan impatiently wiped it away. "Love you," she whispered one more time, wanting to leave him with that, before hanging up the phone and letting them lead her away.

~(B*B)~

Booth held the phone against his ear for several long, quiet moments after the call disconnected, already missing her.

His chest was tight, his breathing shallow and painful. The phone call had only made him feel worse; Brennan couldn't quite manage to disguise the fear in her voice, or the slight tremor that meant she was trying not to cry.

He sat on the edge of the bed for what seemed like a long time, cradling his phone his hands, wracking his brain for some way to undo what Brennan had done.

After awhile, there was a light knock on the bedroom door, and Angela stuck her head in the door without waiting for an answer. "Booth? It's, um…getting late, we're going to go ahead and get Ally home."

He nodded distractedly. "Right, sure. I guess…I'll see you guys in the morning."

Instead of leaving, Angela moved further into the room and sat down beside him. They were both silent for a moment, and then the artist asked in a small voice, "How did she sound?"

Booth shrugged listlessly, eyes dropping automatically to the phone in his hand. "She sounded…like Bones. Trying to be fine even though she's not." He closed his eyes, lifting his fingers to massage his temples. "I don't know what to do here, Ange… "

"It'll be alright," Angela said, her voice resolutely forceful. "It's Bren. She…she's famous for putting away criminals , and this guy…this guy would have hurt her again…" Angela gave a wild, incredulous laugh. "They can't just put her in jail."

Booth stared at his hands, not answering.

Cutting her eyes at him, Angela scrutinized Booth's face, contorted with anguish and unmistakable defeat. "Hey…" She placed a hand on his back, recognizing the expression. "Booth, this is not your fault."

He gave a soft, breathless laugh, tightening his jaw to prevent himself from talking, too afraid of what he'd say.

Angela continued, the concern in her voice palpable, "There wasn't enough to hold him and that…that sucks, and it's not fair, but that is not your fault. I know you did everything you could to protect her."

Immediately, Booth winced, his gaze snapping away from hers. His head as beginning to pound, as he dully realized that his last attempt to protect Brennan had been the worst thing he could have done.

His throat narrowed, a scream rounding against its walls, rising up and threatening to burst out of him. Booth doubled over at the waist, balled fists pressing against either side of his head.

Angela's voice, worriedly repeating his name, suddenly seemed far away. Booth wanted her to leave; he wanted them all to leave, all his friends who were waiting patiently in his living room, wanting a report on how Brennan sounded, wanting some reassurance from him that this would all be over soon.

He needed them to leave so he could fall apart in private.

With great effort, Booth lifted his head and forced himself to say in an even voice, "You guys should go. I'll be fine."

Looking skeptical, Angela asked, "You sure? One of us could stay…"

"No, you and Hodgins have the baby and…Cam and Sweets they should get home, too…" Words were spilling out in a rush, his ability to hold himself together fading fast. "I'm fine. Really, you…you guys should go."

Maybe Angela actually believed him; maybe she just recognized the desperation in his tone. Either way, she stood up, placing a hand briefly on his shoulder. "Okay. We'll be at the arraignment in the morning."

He managed to murmur an obligatory protest. "You guys don't have to…"

"Of course we're coming," Angela said, pausing in the doorway to fix him with a firm look. "It's Bren." Her voice softened. "We care about her, too, Booth."

For just a moment, that tight, panicking feeling eased, and Booth looked at Angela, understanding passing between them. "I know you do."

She gave him a tired half smile. "Night, Booth."

Angela closed the bedroom door behind her, and Booth stayed perfectly still, listening. He could hear the murmur of his friends' voices in the living room, followed shortly by footsteps and, finally, his front door shutting.

Only then did Booth allow himself to fall back on his bed, his hands over his face, a low, animalistic sound of frustration bursting from his chest.

~(B*B)~

After what she'd estimated to be about four hours of curling on her cot, Brennan gave up on sleep and sat up, leaning her back against the wall and folded her arms. Hugging herself, Brennan ran her palms back and forth over her forearms, which were prickled with goosebumps.

She had been far worse places than prison, and Brennan was reminding herself of that frequently: the trunk of Sean Lowell's car, the place she'd been held in El Salvador.

Comparatively, this was nothing. Minimal discomfort at best.

But this was such a stark contrast to how she'd gotten used to spending nights lately.

She missed Booth. More than anything, it was worrying about him that was keeping her awake.

His defeated insistence that he couldn't understand what she was doing scared her. If he continued to deny her logic (which Brennan knew was undeniable), there was no way to be sure he wouldn't do something irrational.

Brennan was shivering; she drew her knees against her chest, resting her chin against her leg. Though she had accepted the fact that it clearly was not going to happen, she wanted so badly to sleep, if only so she could stop worrying about the arraignment.

As long as she made bail, if she was able to go home with Booth, Brennan believed it would be alright. She'd have time to convince him.

But if they kept her in jail until the trial, which even with Alex's request for an expedited trial could be a few months, Booth would lose it.

As for her own fears about staying in prison for that long….well, Brennan simply didn't allow herself to consider it as an option.

~(B*B)~

Alex Bennett had a routine. For a defense attorney, arraignments offered very little opportunity to prepare. There was no way to know what the prosecutor might be thinking until she was in that courtroom.

Still, she had her pre-arraignment routine, and she didn't like it to be interrupted. She would leave her apartment building early, to stop at Starbucks for a hazelnut latte and a low fat blueberry muffin. She made a stop by the jail, exercising her right as an attorney to see her client in a private interview room. Alex suspected Dr. Brennan wouldn't have any last minute questions, nor would she need to go over the procedure.

Still, it was Alex's routine. And she didn't like to break it.

So her surprise gave way quickly to irritation when she exited her apartment building, at the precise time she needed to head to Starbucks, to find Agent Booth standing outside her building, looking as though he hadn't slept in days.

She arched an eyebrow in his direction, asking dryly, "Are you stalking me, Agent Booth?"

He scowled at her, his bloodshot eyes flashing in a way that indicated he was in no mood for humor (especially stalker jokes). He was clutching a newspaper in his hand, and as soon as Alex was close enough Booth thrust it at her.

"They found out," he gritted out through clenched teeth as Alex scanned the article announcing Dr. Temperance Brennan's, famed forensic anthropologist and author, arrest for murder.

"I expected they would," Alex muttered, scanning the article without much concern. "You should prepare yourself, they'll probably be all over the courthouse."

"They found out all of it," Booth said again, acting as though he hadn't heard her. Jabbing a finger to a column of print, he continued, his voice hoarse, "She was a minor at the time, any public record of Sean Lowell's arrest should have kept her name out of it…"

Alex sighed, reading the sentence Booth was pointing to, which recognized Brennan as the victim of Sean's former rape and abuse convictions.

"You're right, that shouldn't have been public record yet," Alex told him, her voice calm. "But reporters are going to be all over this trial, and what Sean Lowell did to her back then is going to be a big part of the prosecution's case…so they can prove she had reason for revenge." Alex fixed him with a serious look. "It was going to come out anyway."

"I don't care!" Booth burst out, his eyes wild. "I don't care if it was going to come out eventually, Bones, she…" His voice faltered, and Booth glared down at the newspaper. "It was huge deal for her to even tell me and…"

Booth closed his eyes. It was bad enough for Brennan that all their friends knew the truth; now the whole world would.

It was just another thing he'd done to her.

"Agent Booth," Alex said firmly, the decidedly rational tone of her voice reminding him vaguely of Brennan. "It is extremely unfortunate that Dr. Brennan's extremely painful personal history is going to be made public during this case…but we can't deny that it is. Just like we can't deny that she is a well known public figure, which makes things even more subject to scrutiny." She paused and then, sympathy threaded in her tone, Alex continued, "I know it sucks. I know it's gonna be really hard on her but…it's not all bad."

Booth made a skeptical sound, glaring at Alex for the mere suggestion.

Unfazed, she explained calmly, "The best case the prosecution has is to prove that everything Sean Lowell did to her was bad enough to make her want revenge…and maybe they'll have a point, but all the evidence of that will be just as effective in proving that Sean Lowell was a dangerous threat."

Booth lifted his head and looked at her, considering this.

"We have a good case," Alex said quietly. "I know you and Dr. Brennan aren't used to thinking about law from this side of it…in your world, reasonable doubt is the enemy, but for defense, it's the key to winning. It's going to be hard to prove either way, whether or not she had to kill him, and when it comes down to it…well, juries simply don't want to convict a woman who spends her life putting murderers in jail for killing her own rapist."

There was a confidence in her voice that made Booth pay attention. Alex was right; he didn't think about cases from a defense standpoint. Now, considering what the attorney was saying, Booth had to admit she had a point.

It was one of the moments where the logic of Bones' decision hit him like a punch in the gut. Booth didn't like understanding what she'd done, didn't like admitting to himself that it made sense, and for a moment his own self loathing drained the fight out of him, and he nodded at Alex.

Taking the nod as conciliatory, Alex glanced at her watch and had to stifle a groan. She would only be able to make Starbucks if she drove fast and the line was nonexistent, but she wasn't willing to risk it.

"I have to go," Alex told him apologetically. "I want to stop by the prison before they take Dr. Brennan over, check in with her."

Instantly, Booth's face changed, his eyes suddenly purposeful. "I'll go with you."

"You won't be allowed in," she reminded him, already walking to her car.

Booth fell into step with Alex, undeterred. "They'll let me in with you, I'm FBI-"

Sighing impatiently, Alex turned to face him. "Not in this case you aren't. You're gonna need to remember that." She began walking again, and this time Booth didn't follow her.

Alex paused as she opened her car door and offered, "You may want to get down to the courthouse soon, Agent. They can't keep the press out, so the gallery will fill up quick." She gave him a small smile. "And I'm guessing you're going to want to be right behind the defense table."

~(B*B)~

Alex was sitting at a table in the interview room when the door opened and an officer led Brennan inside.

Wordlessly, Brennan sat down across from her lawyer, regarding Alex with a mild expression as though they were merely meeting at a diner for breakfast.

"Morning," Alex said, mimicking Brennan's casual expression, though she was scrutinizing her client carefully. "How was your night?"

"It was okay," Brennan replied immediately. Alex noted that her client didn't seem to have slept anymore than Booth had, though Brennan definitely seemed calmer than he had.

As though Brennan could read Alex's mind, the next words out of her mouth were, "Have you talked to Booth?"

Alex paused. She's barely been on this case more than a day, and already the relationship between Booth and Brennan continued to surprise and fascinate her.

Booth's wild eyed panic and concern were at least understandable; after weeks of worrying about his girlfriend's safety, she was in jail for finally protecting herself. Brennan, though, seemed more concern with Booth's emotional state than she was with her own arrest and trial.

"I saw him, actually." Alex answered finally. She hesitated slightly, before deciding not to break the news about the press leak. "He wanted to come with me this morning, but he wouldn't have been allowed in. He's probably at the courthouse by now."

Brennan nodded, her brow furrowed, as though she was seriously considering something. Still, she made no other reply, and after a moment Alex simply continued, "You have any questions about today?"

"No, I'm well familiar with the procedure."

"Right…our official plea will be not guilty due to justifiable use of force. I assume you're alright with that?"

"Yes…since that's what happened." There was a slightly defensive note in Brennan's voice, as though Alex had implied otherwise.

"Good." Alex stood, glancing at her watch. "An officer will bring you over to the courthouse soon…I'll be waiting for you there."

"I know," Brennan answered, her standard reply.

Alex was almost to the door when Brennan's voice, quiet and hesitant stopped her, "Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think….by your estimation, what are the chances that we'll be able to set bail?"

Alex almost smiled. "Are you asking for a percentage?"

"If you can provide one, yes," Brennan replied, completely serious.

"I don't know about a percentage," Alex told her honestly. "But considering he came to your home, I'm nearly positive the prosecution with have to go with second degree murder, rather than Murder One…that, coupled with our defense, means we have a good chance of getting you out."

Brennan nodded stoically, but her chest constricted slightly, unable to forget that a good chance was hardly the same as a guarantee.

~(B*B)~

Booth was closing his eyes, and was mentally counting backwards from a hundred, the only strategy he knew for drowning out the noise around him.

Two reporters behind him were eagerly discussing Brennan, and her history with Sean Lowell, and forcing himself to ignore them was the only way Booth could keep himself from turning around to throttle them both.

He'd gotten to the courthouse early enough to claim the spot he wanted: the first row of the gallery, directly behind the empty chair where Brennan would be sitting soon. Still, the place was packed now, mostly with reporters clutching tiny notepads and thoroughly testing Booth's self control.

He'd barely been able to make eye contact with Angela, Hodgins, Cam and Sweets, who had arrived together to find the place nearly packed. They were squeezed together in one of the last rows of the defense side.

Alex walked in about fifteen minutes before the arraignment was scheduled to start; she nodded at Booth and, before he had to ask, assured him, "She's fine. Asked about you."

"Of course she did," he muttered, leaning back against the bench, angry and guilty that Bones was concerned about him when she was the one who'd spent a night in prison.

In front of him, Alex began organizing documents on the table in front of her, and Booth turned his attention to the table across the room, where the prosecutor had arrived.

With a jolt, Booth realized he recognized the guy. His name was Christopher Gold, and he'd handled a couple of Booth's cases several years back. Booth remembered him as smart and merciless, a quality Booth had previously appreciated but suddenly dreaded.

"Chris Gold," he murmured through gritted teeth. Alex turned, then followed Booth's gaze.

A smirk curled her lips and she shrugged carelessly. "This'll be fun, then."

"He's good," Booth told her, his voice tight.

"He's okay," Alex replied distractedly. "Nothing I can't handle."

Booth started to say something, but he froze abruptly, eyes snapping to a door at the right rear of a courtroom, where a bailiff was emerging, leading Brennan.

Instantly, the air in Booth's lungs dissolved, and his stomach rolled sickeningly. Brennan's hands were cuffed in front of her, and she looked startlingly small in the oversized prison scrubs.

She lifted her eyes from the floor and immediately sought his gaze. Brennan's eyes went soft around the edges, relief stripped through her gaze as she looked at him, never breaking eye contact as she was led toward the defense table.

Booth's throat narrowed; he curled his fingers around the edge of the bench, physically stopping himself from following his instincts, which were screaming at him to go to her, to rip off the handcuffs with her bare hands and announce that he should be the one standing in her place.

Brennan looked over her shoulder at him as she took her seat beside Alex.

"Bones…" Booth breathed out instinctively, his heart catching as Brennan forced a small smile of reassurance before reluctantly turning around to face the judge. She was close enough to touch, and Booth's hands were aching to reach for her.

The process began, and Booth couldn't shake the surreal feeling. This was a procedure he'd witnessed unfold dozens of times, but never from this side. And never with this much at stake.

As they announced her case as District of Colombia vs. Temperance Brennan, for murder in the second degree, a sudden jolt of relief hit Booth. Until now, he hadn't considered there would be distinction between degrees of the murder.

Alex began talking, her voice smooth and confident, as soon as their case was announced. "Alex Bennett for the defendant….we waive reading of the charges and enter a plea of not guilty due to justifiable use of force. We ask that the defendant be released on her own recognizance immediately."

Judge Daniel Hayes, an older man with a shock of white hair and milky blue eyes, nodded slightly. "Does the state wish to be heard on bail?"

Christopher Gold stood up, one hand absently smoothing his tie. "Your Honor, we ask that the defendant be held without bail pending trial."

Booth's stomach clenched, but Alex was arguing before he'd even finished. "Your Honor, that is ludicrous, especially for a charge of second degree murder. My client is a well respected and well known forensic anthropologist. She's a danger to no one…except possibly the criminals she routinely gets off the streets."

"Grandstanding already, Alex?" Chris said dryly, causing the judge the glare at both of them. Unbothered, the prosecutor continued, "Your honor, there's considerable flight risk. Thanks to the well publicized success of her writing career, Dr. Brennan easily has the financial means to escape. In addition, her travel records reveal she frequently makes prolonged visits to various foreign countries, sometimes for months at a time."

Before she could stop herself, Brennan was twisting around to look at Booth, her expression stricken. "Those travels were necessary to her very accomplished career," Alex scoffed. "And they definitely should not be held against her now-"

"Even so," Chris shot back, his voice annoyingly smug.

"All right, all right," Judge Hayes shook his head impatiently. "Save some of it for trial, Counsel. Now, given the charge, I do not believe Dr. Brennan is a danger to anyone at present time." Booth let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "However, given the factors that make her a more elevated flight risk, the court stipulates that she turn in her passport, abstain from any and all forensic work until the completion of her trial…and wear electronic monitoring that prevents her from leaving her place of residence except for visits to court or meetings with her lawyer."

"What?" Booth burst out without thinking.

The judge didn't hear him, thankfully, over Alex's incredulous question. "Is that really necessary, Your Honor?"

Brennan, though, heard Booth's outburst, and she turned again. The color had drained from her face, but she forced a strained smile, mouthing It's okay in his direction.

He'd missed Hayes' reply to Alex, but apparently she'd relented, because she was saying in a tight voice, "We'd also like to seek an immediate trial date. Dr. Brennan is a nationally renowned forensic anthropologist, and an extremely well respected public figure. I won't have these baseless charges hanging over her for any longer than is necessary. In addition, depriving the Jeffersonian and the FBI of her forensic services will only make our community a more dangerous place."

From across the room, Booth saw Chris roll his eyes, and a wave of hatred hit Booth so strongly he couldn't see straight.

"I had no idea you were such a fan of federal forensic investigators, Alex. Usually you're the one arguing against them."

"Mr. Gold, you're trying my patience…"

Smoothly, Chris addressed the judge, "State can be ready in two months, Your Honor."

Judge Hayes nodded. "Trial date is set for November 12th. The defendant is released on three hundred thousand dollars bail." He banged his gavel once. "Adjourned."

Instantly, the court room exploded with the buzz of reporters, yelling Brennan's name and throwing their questions across the courtroom.

She seemed unaware of them, though, turning immediately to look at him. "Booth…"

In an instant Booth leaned over the rail that separated them and pulled Brennan against him as best he could. Her hands, still handcuffed, came between them, resting against his chest as Booth buried his face in her hair.

"It's okay," she whispered against his ear. "I don't mind house arrest. Really."

Dimly, Booth thought that he should be the one assuring her.

"Um, Dr. Brennan?" Alex cleared her throat awkwardly. "You have to go with the bailiff."

Brennan pulled away from him reluctantly.

Alex touched her shoulder. "They're going to set you up with an ankle bracelet...we'll be able to meet you in a few minutes to post bail."

"I understand," Brennan murmured in reply, never breaking eye contact with Booth.

Warily, Alex surveyed the mass of reporters. "I may need to go deal with the press…."

"Wait," Booth grabbed her arm, a thought occurring to him. "Her apartment's still a crime scene, that's where it happened can…can you arrange it so she stays with me?"

Alex nodded. "I'll take care of it."

"I mean, if that's okay with Bones," he added hurriedly. "Ask her first."

"I will," Alex told him, her voice calming. "Meet me at the jail in ten minutes and I'll have it all arranged. And then you can take her home."

Booth nodded as Alex walked away, raising her voice and announcing that the defense was prepared to make a statement outside.

Hearing this, the mass of reporters flooded out of the courtroom, but after a moment Booth became aware of several people fighting the crowd's flow to approach him.

"Booth…" Angela emerged first, wide-eyed and pale. "Where did they take her?"

"We can't post bail here, it has to be at the prison," he explained dazedly. "And they'll have to get her set up for monitoring."

"You mean the ridiculous government alternative to imprisonment," Hodgins corrected vehemently. "Ridiculous…"

"She really can't leave the apartment?" Angela asked softly.

"Or work," Sweets added, looking troubled.

Eyeing Booth, Cam hastily reminded them, "It's only two months. Could have been much longer, and the fact that he set bail is a good sign."

Booth nodded distractedly, conflicted. He had been operating under the assumption that Brennan would either be held without bail or completely free until trial; he hadn't considered an in between. So while he was relieved that the worst case scenario had not occurred, he was also shocked and angry by the scenario he hadn't considered.

"It'll be okay, Seeley," Cam added, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "And it'll be over before you know it."

Booth laughed humorlessly, doubtful, but he thanked her anyway, and even managed to thank all of them for coming as they drifted off with promises to come visit Brennan as soon as she was settled back home.

~(B*B)~

Booth was unexpectedly nervous as he stood by the booking desk of the prison, waiting for Brennan.

He wasn't sure what to say to her after all of this; there was simply too much to put into words. Too many apologies he owed her, and just as many reasons he was angry at her for making him go along with this. For every reassurance he wanted to give her about the trial, Booth had a fear of his own.

Still, Booth forgot all of that the second she appeared through the door, his legs going weak with the strength of his relief as Brennan took three steps into his arms. Then he was holding her, with no rails or handcuffs in the way, and somehow words didn't seem necessary anymore.

Alex hung back, waiting until they slowly pulled apart before she approached them. "An officer's going to follow you home to get everything set up and activated." She gestured downward, and for the first time Booth's eyes dropped, noticing the ankle bracelet strapped around Brennan's ankle. "I should be getting the discovery within the next few days so we'll talk then."

"Thank you," Brennan replied, automatically slipping her hand into Booth's.

"Good work this morning," Booth told Alex in a low, sincere voice. "I appreciate it."

"Just doing my job," Alex replied automatically. Then, hesitating, she added, "I am sorry we couldn't avoid the house arrest-"

"It's alright. It was a logical, understandable decision," Brennan told her, squeezing Booth's fingers reassuringly as she spoke.

"Right," Alex agreed, almost smiling. She signaled at the officer waiting to follow them home, then headed to the door. "Might want to let me go out about thirty seconds before you…see if I can distract the press."

"Good plan."

Still, when Booth and Brennan emerged they were quickly accosted with quick bursts of light and hurried, overlapping questions. He put his arm around Brennan, shielding her best he could as he fought his way through the crowd, muttering "No comment" in a dangerously low voice to anyone who got too close.

He waited until Brennan had closed the passenger door behind her before walking around and climbing into the driver's side.

Booth exhaled slowly, his head pounding dully, glad for the muffling of the noise outside. He turned to look at Brennan, and for a moment they just smiled tiredly at each other.

"Hi," she said finally, breaking the silence.

"Hey," he whispered back, reaching up and cupping her cheek with his warm hand. "Oh, Bones…"

"I'm really fine."

He nodded slightly, not protesting. "You know how much I love you, Bones?"

She smiled immediately, and for the first time today it wasn't the forced smile of reassurance; it was genuine. Instead of answering, Brennan gently pulled his hand away from her cheek, lacing their fingers together between the seats of the car.

Even as the cop car pulled up behind them, waiting, and Booth turned his attention to driving home, he didn't let go of her hand.

~(B*B)~

"How many telephones are in the house? Is this the only exit? Do you have any contraband?"

The questions seemed endless, but only one gave them pause. "Any firearms on the premises?"

Booth answered automatically, "Yes, I…" He stopped. "Well, my gun confiscated as evidence but…I'll have to be issued a new one as soon as possible." Narrowing his eyes, he fixed the officer with a challenging look. "You understand?"

The officer made a note on his pad. "We'll need to register that weapon when it's issued." Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Any other weapons of any kind?"

They continued through the survey, allowing the officer to walk through the apartment, surveying each room before returning to the front door to connect the receiver to a telephone.

Booth and Brennan stood at a distance as he fiddled with wires near their front door. After a moment, Booth tentatively broke the silence, "I hope you don't mind I told Alex to arrange for us to stay here instead of at your place…"

Brennan gave Booth a small smile, appreciating the automatic 'us'. "No, I wanted to be here. As long as you can bring me some things from my apartment. And this way we won't have to worry about moving Parker…" Suddenly, her face froze, eyes darkening.

Immediately, Booth knew what she was thinking. "Hey…" He threaded his fingers through her hair. "We'll explain it to Parker. We'll make sure it's okay."

Booth leaned down and kissed Brennan, gentle and reassuring, but suddenly his stomach twisted as he felt, for the first time, the unwelcome flicker of gratitude.

Explaining to his son that Brennan killed someone trying to hurt her, something the boy already understood happened sometimes in their jobs, would be far easier than having to explain the true story.

And Booth hated himself for the sudden surge of relief that he didn't have to.

The officer turned toward them, then, and started to explain the setup, pulling Booth temporarily from his moment of self-revulsion. "It's gonna need to remain connected from your phone at all times. Any tampering or disconnection will result in immediate termination of the program, meaning there will be another hearing and you'll most likely be thrown in jail," he informed them dispassionately.

The officer nodded at her ankle. "The transmitter is waterproof and shock proof, and obviously must be worn at all times. If you accidentally cross the line, you'll hear an alarm, and there will be a phone call from our monitoring center. You don't answer the phone call, again, you're gonna face another hearing. Understand?"

"Yes," Brennan replied flatly.

"Your lawyer will be in charge of alerting us to any meetings she has with you outside the premises, and those will be kept to a strict time frame. We'll know about any court appearances as well." The officer bent down, pressing a button on the transmitter and suddenly a red light flashed twice on Brennan's ankle, a small beeping indicating it was activated.

Straightening, the officer headed toward the door. "Any questions?"

They shook their heads; Booth didn't return the officer's handshake as he left them alone in the apartment.

For a moment after the door closed behind him, Booth and Brennan stood in silence. Then, forcing a smile, she faced him. "I suppose you were right about me moving in sooner rather than later."

Booth's face twisted, pulling his gaze away from hers, not answering. Brennan's smile faded instantly, and she stepped toward him, wrapping an arm around his neck. "Booth, what are you thinking?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "Part of me wants to yell at you for doing this…and part of me wants to spend a few solid hours on my knees apologizing."

Brennan nodded, seeming to consider. "Well, I hope you don't do either. Although I suppose I can't stop you from yelling, if you want."

"I don't. Not really," he admitted softly, pulling Brennan against him in a tight hug.

After a moment, he pulled back. "I should run by your place. A lot of your stuff's here already, but we want to be sure…"

Brennan nodded. "Makes sense…do you need a list?"

"I think I can figure what you'll need. I can always go back." Booth kissed her quickly. "I'll be right back, okay?" He touched her cheek. "You should lay down for awhile. Doesn't look like you slept much last night."

"Neither do you," she observed correctly. Booth started to turn toward the door, but Brennan's voice, small and hesitant, stopped him. "Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Will you…stay for now?"

Booth's heart caught; he understood what she wanted. "Of course," he said immediately. "I can go there anytime."

Grateful, Brennan took his hand and together they walked into the bedroom. Booth stretched out first, opening his arm and allowing Brennan to curl against his chest.

Brushing his lips gently against her hairline, Booth said in a soft voice. "Love you."

"Love you, too," she murmured in reply, her voice already faint as she drifted off, the long sleepless night in prison catching up with her.

Booth, though, in spite of his own sleepless night, lay awake, his throat tight with everything that they still hadn't talked about, everything he didn't know how to say yet. His foot brushed the hard plastic of the monitor around Brennan's ankle, and Booth couldn't help but think this was just another type of imprisonment…he was locked away with Bones and his own guilt, fear, and sickening knowledge of the truth.

Author's Note: You know what to do! Please let me know how you think…it's just a click away.