Hello again! As always, thank you for your wonderful feedback on this story. It really keeps me going! In this chapter, we'll finish up the Mr. Ed case and see what Booth has in store for Brennan's birthday. Enjoy!

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Chapter 6

As they drove to the Hoover together the following morning, Booth wondered if the front seat of his SUV, much like the desk in Brennan's office, would ever feel the same as before. The memory of his wife's actions the day before was fresh in his mind, resulting in an uncomfortable bulge in his pants. The way she was dressed that morning certainly didn't help matters. She had opted for one of her favorite blazers layered over a low-cut white blouse. The pendant she wore around her neck drew the eye directly to her cleavage, and he couldn't seem to stop looking at it. Though Brennan was well aware of his dilemma, she didn't let on, choosing instead to behave as though the tent in his dress pants was nothing out of the ordinary. Booth had to admit, at least to himself, that when it came to working with her, it really wasn't that out of the ordinary at all.

Booth managed to get himself under control by the time they stepped off the elevator onto his floor, and Charlie informed them that Mrs. Milner was waiting for them in the interrogation room. When confronted about the fact that she had lied to Booth the previous day, Mrs. Milner admitted her deceit and explained that she had done so out of embarrassment and a desire for privacy. She was ashamed of her husband's actions. She went on to say that she had received a call from an anonymous man with an accent who told her that her husband was having an affair. The man told her where to find Ed, and when she arrived, she found him in a stable behaving like a horse.

Mrs. Milner claimed not to have had any knowledge of her husband's fetish until she'd seen it with her own eyes. She'd left the stable, driven home, and retained a divorce attorney that very evening. Booth hadn't ruled her out as a suspect, but Brennan insisted that the woman was most likely innocent.

"Why? Because of the lawyer-alibi thing?"

"No, because of the feet-cut-off thing. It was ritualistic. The killer knew about horses." They continued the conversation as they made their way through the bullpen.

"Or maybe she started cutting him into little bits to scatter across the countryside, and it was too much work for her. Or maybe it made her sick… Or he wouldn't fit in the trunk..." He grinned, knowingly pressing her buttons.

"Booth, we are immersed in a culture here."

"Pony-play is a culture?"

"Anthropologically speaking," Brennan nodded. Booth's smile widened at the sound of her other trademark phrase. "And not just because of the feet. Ed's hands were tied together. Historically, ranchers bound the front two legs of horses to prevent them from straying. Not to mention all the other equine attributes associated with this case. The bit, the sunscreen, the food he ate… Yes, this is a culture, and we need to investigate accordingly."

They arrived at the elevator and both reached to press the button at the same time. When the doors opened, Booth was pleased to see that they wouldn't be sharing the space with any of his co-workers.

"Do you still think she did it?" Brennan asked.

"Nah, I didn't really anyway," he answered, his eyes twinkling mischievously at her.

"Then why did you make me go through all of that?"

"For fun," he shrugged. "Sometimes your squint-talk is pretty hot, even if I don't understand half of what you're saying."

Brennan fought the smile that threatened her features and rolled her eyes. She knew that he liked to agitate her every bit as much as she enjoyed messing with him. Considering how far she'd gone to prove her point during their last verbal sparring session, she knew he would be trying to gain back a little ground in whatever way he could. The thought made her smile with anticipation.

"You know, a fixation with female breasts could be considered a fetish," she commented, after noticing the downward direction of his gaze yet again. "You've certainly been looking at mine quite a bit today."

"In case you haven't noticed, Bones, just about everyone is looking at them today," he replied as they exited the elevator into the main lobby. Almost as if to prove his point, another agent did a double take at her chest before entering the elevator. Booth glared at him reflexively.

"Come on," she sighed, pulling him out of his stare-down. "Let's go track down the mystery caller."

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When they entered the courtyard at the Ambassadora, they encountered a scene that didn't make Booth any more comfortable than he'd been the day before. Rather than interrupting 'feeding time,' however, they seemed to have come upon a 'horse show' of sorts. The 'ponies' were being led by their 'riders' in a large circle, and everyone was making exaggerated movements of showmanship. Brennan explained that their posturing was a kind of sexual signal.

"Who are these people?" Booth wondered aloud.

"In real life, they tend to be very orthodox. They could be doctors, lawyers… FBI guys," she teased, nudging him with her elbow. Booth laughed nervously.

"This is not normal, okay? It's…"

"It's what, Booth?" Her gaze was challenging, and though he knew better, he couldn't stop himself from asking the question that arose in his mind.

"You're not interested in...uh…?"

"Pony-play?" she smiled widely at the flush that was coloring his cheeks. "No, but I'm the first to admit that in sexual situations, I have indulged in...role-playing. We have indulged-"

"Hey there! Any leads?" Lucky interrupted. Booth was tempted to thank him for it. Brennan explained to the proprietor that they were looking for any ponies or riders that might have an accent. Lucky pointed them in the direction of a male pony that was being led by none other than Annie Oakley. As Lucky walked away, Brennan continued her prior train of thought.

"We all indulge in role-playing in sexual situations, Booth."

"Oh, not me," he denied. Brennan's mouth dropped open slightly, but before she could respond, Booth was addressing Annie Oakley. Once she had released 'Thor' from his pony persona, he agreed to speak with them. His real name was Calvin Johnson, and at first he denied knowing Mr. Ed on a personal basis. It wasn't until Brennan bluffed on the existence of a voice recording that Calvin admitted to being the one to call Mrs. Milner. He insisted that Annie Oakley wasn't worth killing over, but he refused to say much more than that.

"Lunch later?" Booth asked when he pulled the SUV to a stop at the Jeffersonian.

"Sure," she replied easily. She leaned over to kiss him goodbye and climbed out of the vehicle. They had spent the ride back from the Ambassadora discussing the case, and she hadn't had the opportunity to return to their conversation about role-playing. Hoping that she would remember to bring it up later when they were alone again, she made her way to the lab and was stopped by Zack and Hodgins almost as soon as she walked through the sliding doors. They were each holding a cantaloupe.

"The murder weapon was a hoof knife," Hodgins said proudly.

"Directly to the temporal bone," Zack agreed.

"Also, the twine that was wrapped around Mr. Ed's hands was a very unique kind of twine. I was able to trace it through vendor records to the Ambassadora. Maybe Booth should take a closer look at the owner."

"Good work, both of you. Thanks."

Zack and Hodgins bumped fists and walked away. Brennan's attention was drawn toward Angela's office by what sounded like meditation music. When she opened the door, she found Angela in a lotus pose on the floor in front of her sofa. Several candles were burning, and the music she'd chosen was clearly intended to soothe.

Angela complained that the hypnotist she had seen that morning had failed to help her retrieve the memory of her husband's name. Angela was clearly flustered, but Brennan had no idea how to calm her. She was due to return to the hypnotist's office that afternoon to try again, and Brennan wished her luck.

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Booth returned to the lab with lunch a short while later, and he agreed with Hodgins that interrogating Lucky was probably the next step. He told Brennan he would let her know how it went and took the evidence bag containing the twine with him when he left. Lucky admitted that he used that particular twine to bale hay, but he didn't know who might've used it to bind Mr. Ed's hands.

In the course of their discussion, it was revealed that Lucky had been married to Anne Marie Ostenback. They had owned the Ambassadora together, but he had paid her off in the divorce. Booth threatened him with a warrant that would allow the FBI to search his property for a hoof knife, and Lucky admitted that he did own one. He also claimed that it was stolen out of his truck four days prior. He suspected one of his rider clients had taken it. The man's name was Tom Mularz, and he worked as a butcher. Lucky had caught him handing out fliers that advocated the consumption of horsemeat, and he had confiscated the fliers. He put them in his truck, and Mularz had then broken into the vehicle to take them back. The hoof knife had gone missing at the same time.

Booth wasn't entirely sure that Lucky wasn't attempting to divert him from his own guilt, but he didn't have enough to detain the man. He picked up Brennan on the way to Tom Mularz' butcher shop.

"Zack and Hodgins determined that the murder weapon was also used to sever the victim's feet," she told him.

"The killer used a short little knife like that to cut the feet off? Wow…"

"He or she would have to have been very strong, but yes. It was the same weapon." When they stepped through the door to the butcher shop, they were assaulted by the scent of raw meat. Brennan wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I hate the smell of a butcher shop."

"So maggots, rotting faces, and burst guts don't bother you, but the smell of a butcher shop does?" he asked.

"It's a very small step between selling dead meat and making meat dead," she replied. "It's one of the reasons I'm a vegetarian."

"Yeah, Bones, I know. Not me though," he grinned proudly.

"Yeah, that's why I said I, not we. A butcher would have to be very adept at cutting through bone," Brennan observed as she looked at the meat on display. Booth nodded and rung the bell for service. While they waited, Brennan noticed a pamphlet on the counter. It was most likely the same one Mularz had been passing out at the Ambassadora. "'Horse meat,'" she read aloud. "'Sweet, rich, lean, and soft.'" They grimaced in unison.

"Can I help you?" Tom Mularz asked as he approached. He was a young man and rather good looking. He wore a bloody apron that didn't do much to reassure Booth of his innocence.

"Yeah, we're looking to score some horsemeat," Booth replied.

"Unfortunately right now there are only two slaughterhouses in the US, and they don't export to Virginia."

"Oh, that's a shame. You Tom Mularz?"

"...Why?" Mularz asked, looking nervous now. Booth lifted his badge into the air but wasn't able to finish saying his name before Mularz had sprinted off in the opposite direction. He was clearly headed for a rear entrance, so Booth instructed Brennan go around the building from the outside while he followed Mularz through the shop. They managed to corner him outside behind the building, and Brennan held a hand out to stop him.

"Stop, or I'll kick you in the testicles!" she warned. Mularz made to run in the other direction, but Booth caught him by the arm and swung him into the side of the building. Mularz fell to the pavement and stayed put long enough for Booth to cuff him.

"'Stop, or I'll kick you in the testicles?'" Booth repeated incredulously. Would it kill her to say 'balls' or 'nuts?' he wondered. Brennan shrugged indifferently.

"It worked."

Although chasing after fleeing criminals was certainly nothing new for Booth and Brennan, Tom Mularz turned out to be running for an entirely different reason. He was a deserter from the National Guard. He also had no idea that Ed Milner was dead. Mularz admitted to breaking into Lucky's truck to retrieve the confiscated fliers, but he knew nothing of the missing hoof knife. Booth notified the National Guard of his whereabouts and turned the focus of the investigation back to the Ambassadora. Brennan returned to the lab while Booth worked on obtaining a search warrant.

He checked his email one last time before leaving his office and was surprised to see a message from Dr. Lance Sweets in his inbox. He clicked on it with an uncomfortable feeling of foreboding, and his brows drew closer together with every line he read.

Shit. Bones is not going to like this.

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"The victim's eyes were gouged out," Brennan informed him when she climbed into the SUV.

"You know, 'hello,' works too. 'Good to see you…' 'Missed you…'" Booth's smile was teasing as he leaned over to kiss his wife.

"Sorry," she mumbled against his lips. Once Booth pulled into traffic, she returned to her point. "Cam thinks the eyes were removed by a doctor or medical professional. Someone who isn't squeamish about flesh."

"Annie Oakley's a doctor," Booth recalled.

"That's what I said. Plus, Cam found evidence to suggest that Mr. Ed had sexual intercourse the night he died, and Annie Oakley said she went to bed alone."

"So she lied," he nodded. "Well, we're heading back out there tomorrow morning. The convention won't be over yet, so we can question her again." They exchanged a smile of satisfaction with the plan and decided to pick up dinner on the way home. Booth mulled over how best to bring up the matter of Sweets' email as they laid out their food containers. "I got an email today… From Dr. Sweets."

"The therapist you talked to after you hurt your hands?"

"Yeah…" His tone implied that there was something important to discuss, but he didn't seem to have any idea how to say it.

"...And?"

"Well, the last time I talked to him, it seemed like everything was a done deal, you know?"

"But it wasn't?"

"Sort of. I was cleared on the anger management stuff, but he wants to see me again." Booth braced himself as he continued. "And he wants you there too."

"Me? Why me?"

"Cullen wants our partnership evaluated in light of the fact that I arrested your dad." He changed a glance at her and was surprised to see that she didn't appear angry at all. Brennan shrugged a little and lifted her beer to her lips.

"I suppose I can understand that."

"Huh?" he said vaguely, staring at her as though he didn't recognize her.

"Well, look at it from the FBI's perspective, Booth. Most partnerships probably wouldn't survive something like that because hardly anyone is that rational about their family. Not to mention we're already a bit of an oddity because of our marriage and our romantic relationship before that… I'm sure they're just covering their buttocks."

"Asses, Bones. They are most definitely covering their asses." He looked at her speculatively for a moment. "So you're really okay with it? Partners' therapy? You hate psychologists."

"I do, but I'm sure that once they establish that our partnership is strong, they'll be satisfied. Besides, you seem to dislike them as much as I do, especially considering how irritated you were last time. Well, both times."

"I'm fine with the profilers and all that; I just hate shrinks," he grimaced. "Plus, this 'doctor' is a kid. I'm not even sure he's shaving yet." Brennan offered him the container of mee krob sympathetically.

"Then let's cooperate as well as we can so that we won't have to deal with him for very long."

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Booth and Brennan returned to the Ambassadora the following morning with the search warrant in hand, and 'Annie Oakley' watched with crossed arms as they poked around her designated stall in the stable.

"Look, you're making a mistake. I did not kill Ed Milner."

"She actually killed her pony, Mr. Ed," Brennan clarified, smirking at Booth.

"I loved Mr. Ed," Anne insisted.

"But he didn't love you back. I mean...not enough to leave his wife."

"What happened, Annie?" Booth said calmly. "Did he talk to you before you slapped him in the forehead and turned him into a human being?"

"You don't know anything," Anne sneered.

"I'm pretty sure that he told you he was going back to his wife," Brennan countered. "And you convinced him to engage in one last session of pony play."

"You took Lucky's truck out to the pasture, you had sex with him, and you finished him off," Booth added, snapping a leather strap against the wood slats as he spoke.

"Hiding in plain sight!" Brennan announced with a bright smile, dangling the hoof knife from her gloved fingertips. "Thanks for making this part easy."

Anne sputtered that the presence of the hoof knife meant nothing, but Booth and Brennan reminded her that Ed Milner's blood would be found on the blade as well as her own DNA on the handle. Booth suggested that she had gouged out Ed's eyes because she hadn't wanted to see them staring back at her.

"I left my husband for him," Anne lamented, her eyes pleading with Booth for compassion. "I left Thor for him… And he was gonna leave me? What was I supposed to do?"

Not be a psycho? Booth suggested inwardly. He turned the woman away from him to cuff her and glanced at his wife. They communicated silently in their own private way as Booth guided Anne into the back seat of the SUV, and he mentally added another tally mark to their solve rate. We really are getting incredibly good at this, he mused. He recalled their upcoming appointment with Dr. Sweets and expelled a mental sigh.

The kid had better not screw things up.

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Brennan suggested that they go to the diner that evening, and Booth readily agreed. Although the rest of the squints frequently patronized the small establishment, it was still very much their place. They took their seats at their usual table and chatted quietly about how the remainder of the day had gone for each of them. While Booth put the finishing touches on Brennan's birthday arrangements, she scheduled their first appointment with Dr. Sweets and made reasonable progress with the case paperwork.

"How's that salad?" he asked as he took a bite of his burger. Brennan recognized the gleam in his eye as the one she often saw when he was teasing her about her dietary choices.

"There are many health benefits to being vegetarian. It's a rational choice in a world where food supplies are affected by global warming issues."

"What about global taste issues?" he grinned. Not to be outdone, Brennan tilted her head and eyed the sandwich in his hand.

"Is that meat 'sweet, rich, super-lean, and soft?'" she challenged. The smile fell from her husband's face as the burger fell from his hand.

"What? Does it taste like horse meat?"

"Maybe you should consider going vegetarian too," she shrugged.

"I didn't lose my appetite because you mentioned horse meat. I lost my appetite because you made me think about all those people parading around, pretending to be something they aren't, just so they can have crappy sex."

"How do you know it's crappy?"

"Gotta be, Bones. Come on. It's gotta be."

"Why?" she pressed, insisting on a better answer than 'because the Bible says so.'

"Why? I'll tell you why…" He leaned forward on his elbows and captured her gaze with his dark eyes. "Here we are. All of us are basically alone… separate creatures just circling each other. All searching for that slightest hint of a real connection. Some look in the wrong places. Some just give up hope because in their mind they're thinking, 'Oh, there's nobody out there for me.' But all of us, we keep trying over and over again. Why? Because every once in a while two people meet...and there's that spark." Her eyes softened as she listened to his words. She knew exactly what 'spark' he was talking about. "And yes, Bones, he's handsome, and she's beautiful... And maybe that's all they see at first. But making love? Making love. That's when two people become one."

They were both smiling gently now, completely oblivious to their surroundings. Brennan's eyes flickered to his lips, and although she wanted to kiss him very badly in that moment, the scientist in her compelled her to make one more point.

"It is... scientifically impossible for two objects to occupy the same space."

"Yeah, but what's important is we try. And when we do it right, we get close," he grinned.

"To what? Breaking the laws of physics?" Her tone was soft without a trace of argument.

"Yeah, Bones. A miracle." They were both lost in one another's eyes for a few moments before she spoke again.

"You're right," she said with a small nod. "That's what I felt the first time we were together. It was never like that with anyone else." Booth leaned across the table to press his lips softly to hers.

"Me too, Bones. Me too."

As they changed clothes and prepared for bed that evening, Brennan's mind was still back at their table in the diner. At another time in her life, she might have argued with Booth's logic. She might've insisted that sexual experience is subjective and therefore cannot be judged on quality by anyone but the participants. She might have quoted anthropological studies or things she'd seen with her own eyes in the process of obtaining her doctorates. ...But she was no longer that person. Booth had taught her so much about sex, love, family, honor… It would be impossible to view sex only from a scientific perspective after all that she had experienced with her husband. As her thoughts wandered back to the case they had just closed, however, Brennan was reminded of a point she hadn't had the opportunity to make.

"Booth…"

"Yeah?" he answered from the bathroom. He rinsed his toothbrush and put it away before turning off the light.

"I do understand precisely what you mean about breaking the laws of physics," she began. He smiled lovingly at her as he joined her in bed. "But I still think you should be willing to admit that you do enjoy role-play on occasion."

"What are you talking about?" he frowned in confusion. She stretched out against him and turned his head toward her. The smug quirk of her eyebrow only perplexed him further.

"Tony. Roxie. Wonder Woman." Her eyes dared him to deny it, but he knew he was caught. So did she. After a few moments, he sighed in resignation and gave a rueful nod of acceptance.

"Alright," he agreed. "But tonight? It's just us."

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"You know we don't have to eat here, Booth. I don't mind going to places that serve meat," she insisted, glancing around the interior of the vegetarian restaurant he'd brought her to.

"Bones, it's your birthday," he replied. "The place is pretty new, but the reviews were all really positive. And… I'm going to let you order for me." Her brows lifted incredulously.

"Seriously?"

"Yup. Just, you know... go easy on me." They exchanged a warm smile, and Brennan lowered her eyes to the menu in her hands.

Booth sipped his drink as he watched her, recalling the way they'd spent her previous birthday. They hadn't been married or even engaged at this time last year, and he distinctly remembered fantasizing over being able to buy a birthday card addressed to his wife. At the time, he'd believed that Brennan would never be interested in marriage, and that had been perfectly fine with him. Even if she hadn't changed her mind on the subject, he would've been perfectly content in the knowledge that she was committed to their relationship regardless of whether it was recognized by anyone else.

This year was the first year he had been able to sign a birthday card as her husband, and the amount of joy he felt at such a simple act was almost comical. He had inwardly chastised himself for being so sentimental. Booth listened as she spoke politely to the waiter about their meals and handed their menus back to him.

"So… Would you like your present now or after we eat?" he asked, his lips curving into the smile he reserved just for her.

"I'll leave that to you," she grinned back.

"Okay, then." Booth reached into his pocket to retrieve a small box and a sealed birthday card. "I have something else too, but it's not so much a gift as… Well, just open those first," he said awkwardly. Brennan smiled encouragingly, endeared by his nervousness, and opened the card first. Her smile brightened at the word 'wife,' and the poetic message warmed her heart.

"Thank you," she said quietly. He nodded in acknowledgment and pushed the tiny box toward her. Brennan gave a sultry chuckle at his enthusiasm and gasped in delight when she saw what was inside. The earrings were an inch or two in length and were formed from twisted silver and precious stones. She recognized the coral and turquoise immediately and knew that they would go perfectly with the Nepalese necklace he'd given her the year before. "Booth, these are perfect! Thank you."

"You're welcome. I noticed that you seem to have a hard time deciding which earrings to wear with that necklace. You always wear different ones and spend a lot of time trying to choose what goes best," he shrugged.

"You're right," she nodded, quirking an eyebrow at him. "You pay a lot of attention to things like that."

"Only when it's you, baby. And you do the same thing," he reminded her, thinking back to the discussions they'd had about his favorite 'rebellions.' Brennan smiled coyly.

"Maybe… What was the other thing you were talking about?"

"Uh…" Booth shifted nervously in his seat a little, trying to determine the best way to ease into this particular conversation. "Well, first I want to ask you something, and if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I'm just curious…"

"Okay," she encouraged, her own curiosity growing by the second.

"I've noticed that you don't really write anymore," he began. Her forehead wrinkled at the unexpected statement. "I know that the copycat case really got to you, and I can understand why you might not want to keep writing books, but… It was something you really loved, Bones. I don't think you should give it up just because a handful of people were sick enough to twist your ideas the way they did." Brennan was silent, and he found her expression unnervingly difficult to read. "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping-"

"No, it's okay," she assured him. Their waiter appeared with their meals, and she waited until he had moved on to another table before she continued. "I hadn't really thought that much about it lately. I do miss it… And you're right; that case made me rethink the advisability of my subject matter. I know that, statistically at least, those murders still would've been committed whether I'd written that book or not, but every time I think about writing again, I see those crime scenes in my mind. I never wanted to see that in real life."

"I get it, Bones. And I'm not pushing you, I promise. I just know how much you enjoyed writing. It helped you decompress after cases, and it was something that helped you connect to other people. I just don't want to see you give up something like that because of what happened. You reached a lot of people through your writing."

"Yeah...murderers and stalkers," she said wryly.

"Not just them," Booth insisted. He reached into his jacket to pull an envelope from the inner pocket. "You have a lot of readers who are perfectly sane. I thought maybe you might...need a reminder."

"What's this?" Brennan asked, peeking inside the envelope hesitantly.

"Just some fan mail that didn't come from crazy people. I got them from your publisher. You don't have to read them now, or even at all, if you don't want to. Like I said, I don't want to push you. But even if you don't publish anything else, I hope you don't give up writing altogether. Maybe it would help you sort things out."

"Sort things out?"

"Yeah, you know… Your dad, your brother… Writing was an escape, and it helped you. Plus, you're really good at it."

Brennan smiled and smoothed the envelope between her fingers thoughtfully. It was exactly like Booth to notice that she'd quit writing and want to make sure she was really at peace with it. She was actually surprised he hadn't brought it up sooner. She supposed that between their jobs, their personal life, and their side investigation into her foster parents' deaths, they'd both had a lot on their minds.

"Thank you, Booth. I won't read them right now, but I will read them. I hadn't really thought about it from the perspective of the readers, and it's certainly been a long time since I've read any fan mail. My publisher has been emailing a lot about my next novel, but I've been putting them off."

"It's alright, Bones. It's entirely up to you, and you know I'll support you either way."

"I know," she replied, smiling back at him affectionately before tucking the envelope into her purse along with her gift and birthday card.

Their conversation drifted to other topics as they finished their meal and took a walk together around the Mall. They were pleasantly surprised to encounter a group of street musicians playing for a small gathering of people. The band played a medley of older songs, covering the timeless artists of the big band era. As the couple stood near the back of the crowd to listen, Booth leaned down to capture Brennan's lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Their arms wound around one another, and by the time their mouths separated, they had begun to sway gently to the music.

Booth smiled down at his wife and surprised her by spinning her outward, only to pull her back toward him once more. Brennan laughed lightly, getting lost in his eyes while she followed his steps. It didn't take much effort with Booth; it really was all in the leading. They had danced together many times since they'd decided to take a chance on one another, and she was always amazed by his ability to make her look as though she knew what she was doing. Dancing had never been one of her particular talents, but with Booth it didn't seem to matter.

As one song bled seamlessly into another, she felt her stress ebbing away, and Brennan marveled at the fact that he could make her feel better no matter what was going on in their lives. With each sway and twirl, her mind felt more at ease. The compulsory partner's therapy, her brother's continued absence, even her father's misdeeds...none of it could touch her in that moment.

She held his dark gaze as they danced, and she was struck by the realization that he seemed to have come into her life exactly when she'd needed him most. Imagining her life without him was a frightening prospect. Brennan reminisced on the events that had transpired in the three years they'd known one another, and she wondered who she would be if it weren't for Booth. She thought back to the things she'd learned about her mother, to being kidnapped by Peter, to being abandoned by her family yet again, and to discovering that her father's past might be darker than she'd ever dreamed.

Brennan wasn't sure she could have gone through all of it and managed to cope with the fallout on her own. How would those events have shaped her? Would she still be the same person she was before Booth? Or would she have re-fortified her walls and sunken even further within herself for the sake of her own sanity?

As her husband held her in his arms almost reverently, Brennan couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there was such a thing as fate.

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A note about the writing thing - She published 3 books in 2 years on the show, and then not another one until S5 (if I'm not mistaken). They never really addressed that, but I felt that I should. Next up, we'll have the first official session of partners' therapy. Fingers crossed that I went the right direction with Sweets. He won't be getting as many scenes in my story as he did on the show, but I still think he has his purpose.

Leave me some love! (pretty pretty please)