Let me just say, you all should be really happy I have no determination whatsoever when it comes to studying.

Thank you all for the reviews, as usual! It was a popular opinion that I couldn't drag this out too long so I didn't.

This is, sadly (or not), the last chapter, and I've gotta say, writing this was really, really fun! I now love this website. So expect more stories from me after this one! As for the ending, well, let me start by saying there are a lot of POV's. Hannah's is one of them (don't hate me!), but overall I actually really like the way this turned out.

Hope you guys enjoyed this, I had an awesome time (best winter break EVER).

(Side note to Steven's Angel: I finished this...your turn)

(Cam's POV)

The entire lab was a mess. The world seemed to slow, almost to a stop, before everything picked up at a fast and furious pace. Clark turned and walked away, settling back into old ways and choosing work over play. Hodgins, after an awkward pause in which he watched his wife closely to make sure she didn't strangle someone (particularly Hannah, whom was still dangerously close when it came to Angela), before scurrying after Hannah to escort her out of the building.

With only Angela and Cam left, there were two jobs left to be done: someone had to go after Brennan and make sure the stress didn't cause labour, and someone had to call Booth.

Cam turned around almost immediately, heading towards her office, already pulling her phone out and dialing Booth's number.

"What are you doing?" Angela ran after her. "You've got to go talk to Brennan."

Cam spun on her heel, crossing her arms and tilting her head so that her ponytail swished. "I'm calling Booth. Dr. Brennan needs to talk to you right now, not me. She won't respond to me."

Angela let out a breath, filled with a hazy anger. It was clear that she'd been planning to scream and shout at Booth, which was the other reason Cam didn't want her to talk to him. Booth was going to freak out. Of course he was. If anyone ever breathed a word of hatred towards Brennan, it set him off. It wasn't going to help, having Angela and Booth screaming at each other. It was much better for her to call him herself.

So instead, Cam sent Angela off after Brennan. She fumed a little, then walked slowly, taking a breath with each step and trying to let out all the stress before reaching Brennan's office. Cam watched her for a while before spinning back into her own office.

She hesitated, though, before pressing the 'call' button. She knew better than to let herself simply call: she had to say all the right things, as well as make sure he wasn't interviewing a witness or doing anything remotely important. After running the argument through her head again, she pressed 'call' and listened to the phone ring.

"Booth."

"Hey, it's Cam."

"Updates on the case?"

"Actually, no." Cam hesitated. "Are you busy? In the car?"

Booth paused, and the line was quiet except for the sounds of his breathing. "No, I'm in my office. I'm pretty much done for the day."

Cam gave out a sigh of relief, thanking god that she had at least a little luck. "Well, we've had a little incident here at the lab."

There was a clash and a clatter on the other side of the line, then Booth's desperate voice: "Is it Bones? Is the baby okay? Is she in labour?"

"Calm down, Booth!" Cam scolded, mentally berating herself. "She's fine. For the most part."

Booth's laboured breath filled the silence, and it took a minute for him to calm down. "What happened?"

Cam looked down at the desk in front of her, wondering how to put it. "Promise me you'll let me finish and you won't freak out until I'm done."

Booth's agreement immediately came through the line, tinted with a little bit of resentment.

"Hannah showed up here at the lab. She had a little run in with Brennan. She seemed to be annoyed that you cancelled dinner in exchange for a coffee, and thought it had something to do with Brennan." Cam took a breath. "Angela stepped in and they had a little catfight. Angela said that you never really loved her and she wasn't exactly very happy with that. Hannah told Brennan that she wasn't jealous of her because there was nothing to be jealous of." The sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line made her speed up, nervous. "Anyways, she said your relationship wouldn't last. In the end Hannah walked off and Brennan sort of freaked and went back into her office. Angela's calming her down now."

For a short while, Booth didn't say a thing. The awkwardness filled the silence, choking, and she immediately picked up again. "She'll calm down. I just wanted you to know." She paused. "We're all here for you two.

Again the silence filled the line, but it was short this time, interrupted by a sharp slam and a dial tone.

(Booth's POV)

Booth wanted to strangle Hannah. He wanted to strangle Sweets. He wanted to strangle Cam and Angela and Hodgins and Clark. Bones was the only person he didn't want to kill- she, he wanted to hold close and comfort.

He paced from side to side in front of his desk. The moment he'd hung up he'd warned Caroline that he didn't want anyone around, he'd closed the blinds and locked the door and begun pacing.

He wanted to act on his instincts. He wanted to call Hannah and scream until he was hoarse and until she'd run away. He wanted to call Cam and scream at her for telling him. He wanted to scream at Angela for not protecting Bones more. He wanted to scream at Hodgins and Clark, just for the hell of it. And then, he wanted to go home and comfort his wife. He wanted to tell her every single reason he loved her, even if it took days. He wanted to touch her skin and kiss her lips and look into her eyes, get lost in them. Even if it took years, he would convince her that he loved her. He loved her, more than anything in this world, more than words could say.

And then, when she was safely and soundly asleep, he'd down a bottle of whiskey.

Of course, that wouldn't have been very good to him. Instead he had to think. Be rational, such as his wonderful wife.

It was nice to think of her as his wife. It had been something he'd been doing for a while, even though they weren't married, and never out loud. There was just something so seductive about the idea: a ring on her finger, a white gauzy dress, a room with a rose-covered bed and a million lit candles.

Booth leaned on the corner of his desk, thinking. He wouldn't call Cam, because she'd already done all she could. He wouldn't call the squinterns or Hodgins, because they really hadn't done anything. He wouldn't call Hannah.

He would, however, call Angela. He would ask her how Bones was and thank her for being such a good friend. He'd call Sweets and take out a little bit of his anger on him - Sweets was bound to know about this anyways. He'd send Hannah a text, although that was something he'd probably have to think over. And then, he'd go home and hold Bones close, tell her the millions of reasons he loved her.

He started with Angela. The phone rang what felt like a hundred times before she answered, her voice quiet. "Hello?"

"It's Booth."

"Hey, Booth." Angela didn't pause to let him ask, simply barrelling on instead. "Booth, she's distraught. I've been talking to her and she's almost crying. I got to her, though: I told her all about how you love her and how the kid's going to keep you two together. She cried a little and she's, well, she's asleep now. I'm taking her home."

Booth was quiet, distraught. He couldn't think over the pain in his chest, the pain of her sobs and her tears and her broken heart echoed in his own chest. He said something to Angela: something about how thankful he was and how he'd go home and comfort her soon. Then he hung up, holding the phone and listening to the throb of his heart.

He couldn't remember much after that. He had called Sweets, chewed him out about the stupid plan which had backfired. He had gotten into his car and driven home. He'd changed, and after ensuring she wasn't at his apartment, he'd gone to hers.

He felt like he was simply going through the motions. He walked up the stairs when he found no elevators. He slipped the key in and turned it, the door opening quietly on its hinges. He walked in, gently closing and locking the door behind him, already looking for her. He'd expected to find her working, taking control of her life. It was her own rebellion against pregnancy: proving that she wasn't crippled. He'd expected her to be cooking, or reading, or working. Anything but what he found.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs outstretched in front of her. She was wearing a pair of sweats and one of his shirts, stretched over her belly. Her hands were folded over her belly, her back was bent slightly over the arm of the couch, and she was staring at her feet. Thinking.

Damn it, she was thinking!

Booth slipped closer, and she looked up at him, vulnerable. Her eyes were red from crying, her lips thin and pressed together. A tremor ran through her body as she watched him walk closer, but she flinched, pulling slightly away.

She was scared. She didn't think he loved him. She thought he loved Hannah.

A bunch of emotions jumbled in his belly as he watched her. Pain for her. Anger at Hannah. Remorse at having hurt her.

He walked closer still, sitting down at the other end of the couch and slowly, gently pulling her feet into his lap. His fingers massaged slowly, trying to decrease the swelling. She breathed unevenly, tears beginning to slip out again. He worked up, fingers still moving in small circles, massaging her ankles.

He could've gone slowly. He could've massaged all the way up her legs, up her belly, until he could reach her lips. But he didn't have to.

She pulled herself to him, carefully folding and unfolding herself until she had turned a hundred and eighty degrees, until her head was rested on his shoulder. He moved slowly, trying not to startle her, slowly threading one hand up to her scalp, massaging slowly and stroking her hair. His other hand moved down to her belly, tracing letters and words and love into her skin. She pulled each of her legs slowly over his, pulling herself closer so her belly was the only thing between them. She threaded one arm up over his shoulders so that she held him closer, the other she pressed over his hand.

And so they sat. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours. His lips played with her hair and his fingers with her skin. And at some time, at some moment, they fell asleep.

(Brennan's POV)

She woke up cradled in his arms. They only just barely fit on the couch, his back pressed tightly to the back of the couch, her back pressed tightly to his front. His face was buried in her hair, one of his hands was thrown over her belly, palm open. Their legs were intertwined, holding them together.

She loved this. It was nearly impossible to describe this feeling, this contentment she felt. There was still an echo of pain in her chest, but it was stifled by this. She felt comforted, safe in his arms.

He moved, his breath blowing her hair, a small sigh leaving his lips. His legs pulled in closer to his body, pulling hers along with him. His hand pressed into her belly, pulling her closer as well, his fingers curled and flexed, gently massaging.

"Good morning," he whispered, his breath tingling he back of her neck, followed closely by his kiss.

"Good morning," she whispered back, stretching against him and turning onto her back so she could look at him. His eyes shone into hers, and his lips pressed against them. He sat up, groaning and stretching his back, cupping her cheek with one hand. He slipped his legs under her carefully, then leaned down to press his lips to her belly.

"Good morning, baby," he whispered.

Brennan chuckled, loving the way he spoke to her, his voice like syrup on waffles. She pulled herself up and off him, padding into the kitchen for breakfast.

The morning flew by. He made her breakfast and drove her to work. He parked the car in front of the door, then leaned in to kiss her. She could taste coffee and honey, and she smiled. She climbed out of the car carefully, supporting herself and leading with her belly, letting herself adjust to a new center of gravity.

The small snap of the door closing was echoed in a small chime of his phone. He picked it up to find a message from Hannah:

Coffee today at 3, Royal Diner. You in?

He pressed his lips together, wanting to throw his phone out the window. His fingers flexed, itching to text her back something snide, rude. Instead, he answered with a simple letter.

K.

(Hannah's POV)

She sat in the diner, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She looked out the window, waiting for him to walk in, a certain sense of thrill in her chest.

She'd blown it, and she knew it. She had no doubt that Seeley would never talk to her again, that it was nothing short of a miracle that he'd answered and agreed to come. Actually, it was nothing short of a miracle that she hadn't been killed yet. Even if it hadn't been him to do it, they had a million friends who would've killed her for them.

So she waited. She already had everything ready in front of her: two cups of coffee, two plates of pie. She thought about what it was like when he sat here with Temperance. She didn't eat pie. She 'didn't like her fruit cooked'.

The car rolled in slowly, parking in front. He climbed out, slamming the door, everything about him threatening, from his perfectly straight back to the sharp creases in his pants. He walked in, pushing open the door, the only color in his outfit coming from the red "Cocky" belt buckle that shone on his hips.

He didn't even sit. He stood by her side, his long fingers tapping the corner of the table.

"Here's the deal, Hannah," he said slowly. "I heard what you did to Bones. I know what you said to her and I know how it hurt her. I don't care if you spend the rest of your life in D.C. I don't care if you spend every single minute hating her. All I care about is that you never talk to her again. Never touch her, never come close to her. Don't ever darken our doorstep."

She looked up, the simpering she'd been planning to do long gone from her mind. "She deserved it. She doesn't deserve you. I deserve you."

"If you did, you would never have walked away." He straightened up and she turned down to the plate in front of her, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"You had your chance, Hannah. You had it, and you blew it. But this is my chance with her. This is my chance to prove to her I love her. This is my chance to love her." She looked up, remorse in her eyes. "This is my chance, and I'm not letting you ruin it."

With that, he turned around and walked away.

Hannah leaned back, her dirty blonde hair sweeping over her shoulders. She wanted to cry, she really did. She wanted to run after him. She even had a small desire to kill Temperance.

But he was right. He was horribly, terrifyingly right. She could scream and shout at Temperance. She could take her down using just her words. But Seeley? She could never hurt him. She could never even come close to hurting him. And if the price was not hurting Temperance, well, it was a price she had to pay.

She didn't eat the pie and she didn't drink the coffee. She left a twenty on the table. But she was sure to do one thing before she left: she took a napkin and folded it, putting it in her pocket as a small reminder that she could never hurt him, that it was his life and that there was no space in it for her. Not anymore.

(Brennan's POV)

She worked for hours on end, every once in a while glancing at her watch. It was a trait she'd long since gotten rid of, and thus confused Clark, who wasn't used to seeing her so nervous.

She worked past three, ignoring the pain in her stomach. She worked past three-oh-five. Three-ten. Three-fifteen. Three-twenty.

And then the door opened.

"I'm working, Ange," she said quickly. "I'll talk to you later."

"I'll make this quick."

The quiet voice shattered her reality, and she spun around on her heels, her belly swinging out in front of her. She grasped the cold metal of the autopsy table, her view blurring and clearing in the space of a second.

Hannah was standing by the door, her eyeliner-rimmed eyes red. She imagined she'd looked the same way herself last night, and felt a wave of guilt run over her before disappearing, replaced by a wave of contempt.

"Hannah, I am currently working on a case and am very busy -"

"I'll make this quick," she repeated. "I'm here because of Seeley."

Brennan didn't answer. Her stomach contracted, pain rippling through her.

"I'm here because he told me to stay away from you." She pressed her lips together. "He was right. He loves you, Temperance. I can see." She paused again, licking the corners of her lips. "I'm going to leave. I can't stay in Washington, not with you guys here. I'd be too scared the FBI would track me down." A wry smile pulled up her lips. "I'm leaving. I'm hoping that you guys will be happy together, because that makes Seeley happy." She stepped closer. "I don't like you much anymore, Temperance. I'm sorry about that, but it's the truth. But if you make Seeley happy," she sighed. "Then you two deserve the world."

She paused at the door, before turning around and walking away, leaving Brennan feeling a relief, joy, and just the tiniest bit of sadness as she left.

(No one's POV in particular)

Two weeks later

"Hannah!"

Angela ran after Hannah, her heels clicking on the sidewalk. "Hannah! Wait up!"

It was pure luck that Angela's plan was working. It hadn't even been well-formed enough to be considered a plan. She'd loved the idea, especially considering the way it worked with Hodgins, but she hadn't been sure it would work with her. It wasn't really a plan, more like a fantasy. She hadn't even expected that Hannah was still in Washington.

Hannah paused, turning around. Her worry was turned into fear the moment she turned, but it diminished at the smile on Angela's face. "Hey, Angela."

"Hey," she panted. "I have a present for you." Out of her bag, Angela pulled out a Darth Vader plushie she'd found in a nearby store. Hannah gave an awkward smile, taking it carefully and smiling at it before stowing it away in her own bag.

"I also have to introduce you to someone before you leave." She turned around and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer.

"Hannah," Angela said, proudly and deviously, "this is my dad."

Billy stretched out his hand, shaking Hannah's. "You're a beautiful woman," he said gruffly. "How bout I take you out for one last drink in Washington?"

Hannah gave a small smile. She was happy, extremely happy, to know that she had at least one friend left in Washington.

Or so she thought.

Billy dragged Hannah off quickly, already talking to her rapidly, already deceiving her, lulling her into a sense of safety; leaving Angela standing on the sidewalk with a pleased smile on her face.

The next day

Hannah woke up groggily, her senses dimmed and dulled by the remnants of the alcohol in her system. She coughed, the burning in her throat strengthening before subsiding, and she tried to stretch.

She was lying in an alley, she realized. She was lying in an alley, her hair dirty, her body curled into a wire fence. She groaned, trying to stand, immediately succumbing to the intense nausea that rolled over her in waves.

She threw up once, twice, three times before the nausea subsided and she could begin to focus. There was a note in her hand, she realized. A note written on the napkin she'd taken from the Royal Diner.

I had a great time with you last night. I guess you have a really low tolerance, because you went wild. I tried to talk you out of it, but you said you really wanted that tattoo. Have fun wherever you're going.

Tattoo?

Hannah groaned, looking down at her forearm, where a large bandage was wrapped around and held down by tape. She pulled it off quickly, scared of what she was going to see.

Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan, it said in curly handwriting, centered in the middle of a heart. Love that lasts forever.

Which was, let's face it, a way better reminder than a napkin.

The End

I hope you guys enjoyed this! Now I'm going to take a break and cry before I start actually studying tomorrow.