A/N: Here's chapter two. Does anyone know how to put a line in signifying a break in the story? Help would be appreciated. Reviews get you a cookie! Telepathically, of course. I find it best for everyone that way....

(Break)

"What time is it?" Brennan asked, stretching her back out.

Hodgins, who was mid-conspiracy theory, turned from a bored-looking Cam and checked his watch.

"Five-thirty," he replied.

Brennan cursed softly. "Sebastian needs to be picked up by six, but these bodies need to be identified by tomorrow. There's no way I'll make it there on time."

"Can't Booth get him?"

"No, he's in a briefing for the next few hours."

"I'll get him." Hodgins offered.

Brennan sighed in relief. "Thanks, Hodgins."

"No problem," Hodgins replied, watching Brennan as she dropped her head and shut her eyes.

"You tired, sweetie?" Angela asked, scrutinizing the dark bags under her friend's eyes.

Brennan sighed deeply. "Yes," she mumbled. "Sebastian hasn't been feeling well lately."

"He's sick? Since when?" Cam asked.

"The past week or so. He's been lethargic, he refuses to eat, and he sleeps frequently. It's beginning to render me somewhat worried, I must admit. He's been sick before, but it always passes within a few days."

"What do you think it is?" asked Angela.

"I've got an appointment with the paediatrician in a few days. In the meantime, I will simply have to get by on even less sleep then I usually get. I'm sure it's just a common strain of influenza though. Anthropologically, mothers have culturally been known to worry needlessly about their offspring. It stems from the role relegated to the mother of caregiver and food provider. Mothers sustain the life of their offspring, so when one of them contracts an ailment it represents failure to provide in the mother's eyes, causing overcompensations. "

There was a long pause, until Hodgins finally broke it.

"Okkkaaayyy...let me go get that kid of yours, and you can commence with your....overcompensation."

(Break)

"Hi, Dr. Hodgins," Miss Theresa, Sebastian's daycare teacher, greeted Hodgins as he entered the room.

Hodgins nodded in greeting and strode over to where Sebastian was leaning on the edge of the couch, thumb in his mouth, while the teacher read him a story.

"Hey, bugs!" he greeted the toddler.

Looking up, Sebastian smiled and held his arms up. Hodgins obligingly picked him up, and Sebastian laid his head on Hodgins's shoulder, one little hand tangling in Hodgins's hair.

"Uncle Hodgy. Mama." he mumbled.

Hodgins passed a hand through the toddler's curls.

"Yeah, bugs, we're going to go see if Mama's done her work."

"See mama."

(Break)

As soon as Hodgins swiped himself and Sebastian onto the platform, the boy lifted his head from Hodgins's shoulder, his eyes scouring the platform. Almost immediately, his eyes landed on Brennan.

"Mama!" he called, stretching out his arms for his mother.

Brennan made some final notes and jogged over to Hodgins and Sebastian. By this time, the toddler was becoming more and more insistent, holding his arms out as far as they would reach and wiggling his fingers, leaning towards his mother.

Brennan leaned forward and accepted her son into her arms. Sebastian buried his face in his mother's shoulder and stretched both arms around her neck.

Brennan's eyes narrowed as she felt how warm her son was. Shifting him onto one hip, she pressed a hand to his forehead.

"You're warm, baby. Your core body temperature seems to be elevated, most likely due to a common strain of influenza."

"Squint, Mama. I sick." Sebastian mumbled.

Brennan pressed her forehead against the child's.

"I know, baby. But Mama can't get you home right now, so you're going to have to stay with me, okay?

Sebastian nodded against Brennan's neck.

For the next hour, Brennan made final notes, consulted with other colleagues, and argued with her publisher about the details of her next book. All the while, Sebastian slept against her shoulder. Several of the squints had already come up to her, trying to take Sebastian off Brennan's hands, but the child would simply whine and cling to his mother. After awhile, Cam cut in.

"Go home, Dr. Brennan. We can take over from here. Wendell can finish up the analysis and we'll call you if there's any news. Take this guy home."

Brennan nodded appreciatively, and carried the boy off the platform.

(Break)

Brennan jolted awake with a start. Nothing had woken her, except the feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was a feeling she recognized – dread. Something was very wrong.

Brennan sprang out of bed, waking Booth, who grunted incoherently, opening his eyes a slit to peer at his partner.

"Bones. Whatcha doin'," he mumbled.

Brennan shook her head. "Something's wrong, Booth."

"What?"

"I don't know what, Booth, but something is."

Booth groaned and wearily swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Alright," he grumbled. "I'll go check downstairs."

Brennan watched him stumble from the room and sat down again on her bed. She honestly didn't know why she had this feeling building in her stomach, but it ate at her as she sat there, unable to sleep.

Several minutes later she heard Booth shuffle up the stairs and back into their room and felt him collapse down on the bed next to her and loop an arm around her waist.

"Nothin' there. Back to bed, Bones."

Brennan gave a tiny nod, then jumped off the bed again, eliciting another groan from Booth.

"Three-thirty in the mornin', Bones."

"I know, I'm just going to check on Sebastian quick," said Brennan as she left the room.

Sebastian's room was quiet and cool as Brennan entered. The walls Angela had painted were a pale blue, with murals of trucks and animals, and the room smelled of baby powder. Brennan made her way over to her son's crib, looking down on him. She reached down to her sleeping son to brush some hair away from his face. Brennan brought her hand up then froze. Her hand was wet. Did Sebastian have a dirty diaper? He had outgrown waking up for diaper changes long ago...

Brennan brought her fingers to her nose and sniffed. The liquid on her fingers was odourless. Curiosity got the better of her, and she switched on the toddler's bedside light. Sebastian flinched at the sudden light and groaned, but only opened his eyes a slit. Brennan barely noticed, however, instead looking in shock and horror and the pool of liquid under her little son's head.

"BOOTH!" she yelled. The urgency in her voice must have immediately alerted Booth, because he came jogging in less than a minute later.

"What's wrong, Bones?"

Wordlessly, Brennan held up her hand and pointed to the mattress. Her hand, the mattress, and one side of Sebastian's head were caked in blood.