A/N: So sorry for not updating in ages guys! I've had some stuff going on and I found this chapter really hard to get through for some reason but all of your comments urging me to finish have spurred me on! Ok, so I did actually write an Author's Note for my last Chapter and edited it before putting it up but I must have forgotten to save the changes hence the lack of authors note and all of the annoying little spelling errors. So my sincerest apologies to the devoted readers of this story, who I really appreciate by the way All of your lovely reviews are really inspiring and some touching. I often have a little giggle reading your reviews especially when some of you are talking about your theories or talking about the different goings on in the chapters. It is still crazy to me that people across the world are reading what I sit humbly typing on my laptop, so thank you so much for those and please keep them coming! So as I didn't get to explain the last chapter, the reason for the stand still in between chapters 5 and 6 was that I had started a new job so things were pretty crazy there and then I know there's been an even longer standstill this time. Oooops sorry! Anyway I am back and I have actually been planning out the chapters and I have the last chapter of this story half written already and I must say, I am super excited to get to the last chapter! Anyway, here is Chapter 7. It is again, very late – my sincerest apologies – I have had a busy few weeks! I hope you guys like it and as always, please review and let me know what you thought. And as I keep forgetting every chapter, here's a little shout out to RomanticAngel92 who inspired me with this story's idea in the first place – and if you are into Glee go check out her stuff. Happy reading,

Love CreativeAngel89.

Christine wrapped the thick noodles she had been staring at for the past five minutes around her set of chop sticks and shoved them into her mouth forcing her to chew and smile. Across the dining table, it looked like Michael was trying to do the same thing with his sesame chicken. Booth had arrived twenty minutes ago as they were sitting down to eat and of course Angela and Jack had insisted that he join them after his long day of interviews and his previous night of no sleep. Christine didn't mind dining with her father, in fact it was a rare occurrence now that she was away at college – or at least she was supposed to be away at college – what had perturbed her and Michael was the fact that Angela had insisted he stayed the night. Her mother was pulling another all-nighter at the lab and her father looked exhausted so Christine really shouldn't have been so surprised when he had agreed. Of course that meant that she would be bunking with chatty Pippa and her father had insisted Michael have his own bed and that he was happy to sleep in the attic. Christine reached for her Pepsi and took a swig trying not to look too disappointed that her father would be disturbing her sleeping arrangements. Or was he? She was confused. Sleeping in the same bed as Michael was becoming a pattern and she had had two peaceful nights of sleep when he had been lying next to her, but who said they would be doing it again? He had kissed her, but what did that mean? She could still feel his lips on hers and relived the feeling of being wrapped up in his strong arms but she had no idea whether it meant that Michael had feelings for her or whether he merely found her attractive. She sighed and took in another mouthful of noodles and spent the rest of dinner making polite conversation and trying avoiding Michael's gaze that was so intense, she almost felt as if he was caressing her very core.

Christine brushed her teeth and combed through her hair before changing into her pyjamas that consisted of a pair of silk shorts and matching button up camisole that were a midnight blue colour with vertical cream stripes. Her white fluffy slippers adorned her feet and she decided to slip into her black satin kimono style dressing gown, feeling a chill as the biting wind rustled the browning leaves of another of the large oak trees in the Hodgins yard, this one stood looming outside of Pippa's bedroom window, set against the deep blue September night sky.

She slipped off her silver ring which was an exact replica of the one her mother wore. The band formed a dolphin, one side was its detailed head and the other formed its tail and Christine smiled as her mother's face appeared in her thoughts. It had been a touching gift that Temperance Brennan had presented to her daughter on the eve of her sixteenth birthday. The one that had ringed her Grandmother Joy Keenan's finger was now worn by her mother always, being the only thing Temperance had left of the woman that was snatched from her life too soon. Her Mother had told her that she thought it appropriate Christine wear one too as a way to include in her life, the Grandmother she never knew. Christine placed the ring on Pippa's nightstand, admiring her blood red nails as she did so. Pippa had insisted they give each other manicure/pedicures which Christine wouldn't have minded had it not been for Pippa's somewhat unconventional taste in colours. She liked the crimson covering her finger nails but she couldn't say the same about the alternating green, yellow and orange that covered her toe nails so she was glad that they were safely tucked into her slippers. When she had looked at them, the sight had reminded her of some sort of fungal infection but she had quickly hidden her distaste when she noticed the proud beam on Pippa's face. She had then been ordered to use electric blue polish to do Pippa's pedicure but had chosen an understated pearly pink for the sixteen year olds fingernails that were bitten down almost to the quick, which was after she had tidied up her friends ratty cuticles.

After turning down her duvet and plumping the pillows on the thin mattress that was positioned on the floor parallel to Pippa's own bed, Christine remembered that she had left her toiletry bag in Michael's bathroom, so she slipped across the landing and quietly rapped on Michael's door. She was expecting to be greeted by the sight of Michael's handsome face, but instead, the door flung open to reveal her father stood before her in his white vest and boxer shorts.

"Dad!"

"Is something wrong?" Booth's eyebrows knitted together as he regarded his daughter with a curious expression.

"Of course not. Where's Michael?" She had tried to make that last question sound like an afterthought but she knew she had failed miserably when her father's gaze turned calculating.

"He's upstairs in his 'Art Studio'", Christine rolled her eyes as her father took out his air quotation marks to mock Michaels use of the attic. Booth smirked, clearly amused by his own lame quip. "Why? What do you want with Michael anyway? Knocking on his bedroom door in the middle of the night – is there something I should know about?"

Christine knew she was blushing but she refused to give in to her embarrassment and instead made an amused snorting sound and lightly pushed past her father into Michael bedroom. "Don't be ridiculous Dad, I left my toiletry bag in his bathroom and I came to get it. End of story."

"If you say so." Booth, obviously satisfied with her answer, for now, slumped onto Michael's bed ready to nod off.

"I do say so", Christine answered from the bathroom where she gathered up her things and then shut off the fluorescent lighting. She padded back into Michaels room, but before leaving she planted a quick goodnight kiss on her father's rough cheek.

"Your Mother called to check on you", he murmured, bleary eyed. "She said to tell you goodnight and that she will be driving up tomorrow. She misses you already, I can tell."

"I can't wait. I miss her too."

"Goodnight", she told her father, whose heavy lids were already shut. She exited the room quietly, switching off the soft lighting as she closed the door behind her. She gazed longingly up towards the attic staircase before she let out a wistful sigh. She had never felt such a strong urge as the one that appeared when she thought about being close to Michael and she felt slightly irritated at having to share Pippa's room and not his.

The pretty teenager lay on her stomach on top of her duvet with slim black wires that belonged to her ear phones just visible through her head of thick dark curls as she sang along to something that sounded slightly out of tune as she multitasked, typing on her laptop as she went. Christine smiled and sat beside Pippa, whom she wished had a slightly better singing voice since she insisted on singing along to every track she played. After tapping at her phone to check her emails her own lids began to feel heavy and she gently removed one of Pippa's earphones, slightly startling her as she did.

"Sorry Pip. I'm kind of tired so I'm going to hit the sack".

"Ok, me too. I'll get the light". As Christine tried to position herself comfortably on her mattress, Pippa closed her laptop and went to turn out the light. Christine tried to fall asleep but it was proving difficult. She tried counting backwards from one hundred but once she reached thirteen she realised that idea wasn't going to work. She turned on her side and flipped her pillow over to the cold side just as her phone buzzed gently. She reached for it and saw a message from Michael. She smiled as she read his words.

This kinda sucks but your Dad scares me so I guess I'll have to stay put. My beds empty without you sleeping next to me. Goodnight. x

Christine felt a warm tingle in the pit of her stomach and smiled. At least now she knew Michael was more than just attracted to her. With that knowledge she dosed off and didn't open her eyes again until she heard a deafening smash that jolted her awake. She sat up and tried to focus when she heard another thud. She instantly threw off her covers and stood spurred on my adrenalin. She opened Pippa's bedroom door and almost collided with Michael. His bedroom door was already open which meant her father had also been disturbed and was downstairs. Michael took her hand and they both raced into the kitchen and through to the dining room and stopped at the sight before them. The glass doors leading onto the back patio where both smashed and the patio was destroyed. The wood floor outside had been partially ripped up and the plant pots where all smashed with dirt and crushed flowers littering parts of the patio floor that were still intact. The cushions adorning the chairs were slashed with the wrought iron table still were it was supposed to be but the matching parasol had been thrown to the other side of the garden. Booth was stood before the patio table and as Christine moved closer she saw that a message had been scrawled in red spray paint I'M WATCHING YOU. She knew her father was saying something and she could feel Michael tugging at her arm but Booth's words sounded fuzzy and she could only follow his gaze. She peered down to her feet and realised she was barefoot and judging from the amount of blood she must have walked over the broken glass and cut herself. The feeling of searing pain began to make its way to her senses just before she felt light headed and then everything went black.

When she opened her eyes she saw Michael's blurry face staring back at her before it was replaced by her fathers and then someone she didn't recognise and she blinked harder as if that would help her know the strangers face.

"Christine, my name is Sam, Can you hear me?"

She managed a feeble "Yes." Her voice sounded far away to her own ears but Sam seemed satisfied. She was a pretty woman in her mid-thirties with dark brown hair and Christine noticed she was wearing a dark jacket and blue shirt underneath. She also wore white latex gloves and it took Christine a moment to realise Sam was a paramedic.

Sam looked to Booth who stood over Christine. "She's going to be fine agent Booth and the blood made it look worse than it really is, she doesn't even need stitches."

With that Christine felt someone else tugging at her foot and as she raised her head she noticed another medic bandaging up her left foot in which the sharp pain had been replaced with a dull ache.

"The patio?" was all she could manage but Michael understood and took her hand as he knelt next to the couch where she lay.

"The police are reviewing the video footage the security camera picked up but all that's visible is a dark figure, they can't get an I.D".

"I want to sit up". The other paramedic had finished with her foot and was now packing up her bandages and scissors. Michael took both her hand and helped manoeuvre her into a comfortable sitting position but instead of taking a seat by her side he stayed where he was knelt before her searching her face. Christine could only imagine that she was wearing a blank expression because that was how she felt inside. A normal person might be in a state of shock or panic maybe fearful of tonight's events or angry but Christine was all out of shock or anger or fear. She just wanted to sleep and pretend none of this was even happening. A few minutes later when the police drove away, with exception of the patrol car stationed outside, and the paramedics were making their way down the front path, Booth came towards his daughter – at which point Christine finally got her bearings enough to process what he was saying and the notice that the rest of the Hodgins family sat in the living room with various beverages and that the patio doors were now boarded up.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?"

"I'm ok Dad; I just want to go to sleep".

"OK, I have to go and talk to the officer on patrol and find out why he can't do his job properly. Michael can you help her upstairs?"

"Sure".

As Booth stalked out of the front door Michael put his arm around Christine's waist and hoisted her off the couch. She was about to hobble on her bandaged foot when she felt her legs go from under her as Michael swept her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her up the stairs without any difficulty. He didn't break a sweat and his breathing remained the same. She was still surprised by his strength when he was lowering her into his bed.

"What are you doing? My Dad's downstairs, I can't sleep in your bed"

He chuckled. "Relax Chris, he's sleeping on the couch and for all intents and purposes I'm sleeping in the attic."

"But where are you really sleeping?" She asked as he gently covered her up with the heavy duvet.

"Right next to you", he smiled. He switched off the lamp and climbed in next to her. She was about to try and awkwardly turn to face him without catching her sore foot but instead he quickly circled her waist and snugly pulled her against him. They were so close she could feel his nose buried in her hair and she once again felt some peace before she closed her eyes.