Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter. :) Many of you were right on point with your suspicions. I enjoyed writing this chapter and the next, aside from having to write Crazy Pam and the drama she brings.

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Chapter 21

Booth and Brennan spent the majority of the following day interviewing people who had known the most recent victim. The team had identified the man as a fitness and music enthusiast named Tommy Sour, and the first order of business was to check out his home. No one answered Tommy's door, but the next door neighbor, Adam Matthews, was able to answer a few of their questions.

Matthews was an artist, dabbling in painting as well as sculpting, and it had been he who had reported Tommy as a missing person. His chief complaint was the irritating intrusion of Tommy's alarm clock, which had apparently been going off constantly over the last two weeks. The man was visibly frazzled by the constant noise.

With a little prompting from Booth, Matthews informed them that Tommy had been a trainer at Valera Wellness and that one of his clients had been stalking him. Tommy had referred to the woman as 'Fat Pam,' and he had definitely not returned her affections. Booth and Brennan thanked the man for the information and decided to try their luck at the wellness center next.

The owner of Valera Wellness was Dr. Jason Bergman, and although he seemed surprised at the news of his employee's death, he didn't appear to be very upset about it. When Booth asked about a client of Tommy's named Pam, he informed them that the woman's last name was Nunan and that she had been infatuated with Tommy. She had touched him inappropriately, followed him around town, and had even invited him on a Caribbean cruise.

Using the contact information provided by Dr. Bergman, Booth got in touch with Pam Nunan and asked her to come to the Hoover. He and Brennan had a quick lunch in his office and were cleaning up after themselves when Pam knocked on the door. She greeted Booth warmly and regarded Brennan with wary dislike. She'd brought along a photo album full of pictures of the victim, and Booth flipped through it curiously, quickly understanding the nature of the photographs.

"These pictures are… They're taken from quite a distance, Pam," he said cautiously.

"He's so shy," Pam gushed. "It's one of the things I love about him." Booth shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the album again. Each picture had clearly been taken without Tommy's knowledge, but the woman's demeanor was somewhat disarming.

"We understand Tommy was your personal trainer?" Brennan prompted.

"Oh, he was so much more than that. Before I met Tommy, I was so down on myself. But Tommy…" she shook her head with a dreamy look in her eyes. "He's such a sweetheart."

"Does Tommy share your affection?" Brennan asked, feeling a little awkward.

"Why do you ask it like that?" Pam frowned in disgust. "If he didn't love me, why would he want to marry me?"

"Marry you?" Booth asked in disbelief. "He was going to marry you?"

"Tommy's my life," she replied fervently. "And I'm his. Whatever you think he'd done, I know he didn't do it."

"We're not worried about what he did. It's what you might have done," Brennan clarified. Pam looked back and forth between them in confusion.

"Tommy's dead," Booth explained. Pam's eyes widened, and she appeared to be genuinely surprised by the information. "Look, I'd like to move you to a private room, if that's alright. I have some more questions for you."

"Of course," Pam answered, still dazed. "I'll… I'll help in any way I can."

Booth led her to the interrogation room and told her he would be back. When he returned to his office, Brennan was on the phone with Zack. He was reporting an odd finding on the C5. The anterior of the bone was slightly shaved, as though by a cheese slicer. He was in the process of looking for a more likely weapon.

"I'm gonna pull in Sweets on this one," Booth announced when she ended the call. "That woman is obviously a Class A stalker, not to mention completely delusional."

"I'm inclined to agree. She seems genuine, but everyone who knows her has an entirely different opinion about her relationship with the victim."

"I think you should observe this time around." When her brow furrowed, he hurried to explain. "She seems uncomfortable with you; it's probably just her insecurities. I need her to open up."

"Alright," she nodded, feeling reasonably mollified. "Should we go get Sweets?"

"Not yet. I'm going to let her sit in there for a while."

Brennan had become quite familiar with that technique, and she spent most of her time on the phone with the lab while she waited for Booth to green-light the interrogation. Sweets met her in the observation room, and they watched Pam through the glass for a few minutes.

"So?" Brennan prompted. "What do you think?"

"She has body image issues," Sweets began by stating the obvious, "which are not congruent with her actual appearance. She's someone who is slightly large, who believes she's a very large woman that can convince people she's only slightly large. And the way people treat her convinces her that she's right."

Brennan shook her head at his muddled explanation, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She wondered absently if increased exposure to Sweets and his psycho-babble might have permanent effects on her sanity. Sweets sighed at her disinterest.

"Alright… She's sorting her trail mix," Sweets stated, watching Pam separate the tiny pieces into separate piles.

"That means something?"

"She's nervous. She's trying to control a situation that's out of her control."

"Or she's just bored," Brennan retorted. "She's been waiting almost an hour."

Before Sweets could respond, the door to the interrogation room opened, and Booth greeted Pam with an apology for her long wait. She replied that she had indeed gotten bored, hence the trail mix sorting. Brennan smiled gloatingly at Sweets.

"I believe that you loved Tommy," Booth said as he took the seat across from Pam. She thanked him before he added, "But I don't believe he loved you back."

"Because I'm not anorexic?" she challenged.

"Ms. Nunan…"

"Call me Pam," she encouraged in a soft voice. She seemed to be intent on keeping her eyes wide open, as though hoping to convey an impression of innocence or virtue.

"Pam," Booth rephrased, looking uncomfortable. "You were stalking him. And he was avoiding you." She became flustered and thrust her arm out toward him, flashing a charm bracelet that was fastened around her wrist. The charms spelled out her name.

"If he didn't love me, why would he give me this for Christmas?"

"What did you give him before he gave you that bracelet?" Booth asked carefully. Sweets grinned in approval of the question. Pam admitted that she had given him a thousand dollar gift certificate to The Music Centre. Sweets was nodding enthusiastically, and he explained to Brennan that such an extravagant gift was Pam's passive-aggressive way of obligating Tommy to try to force an emotional connection. Pam went on to explain that Tommy had been a gifted singer, and that she had wanted to support his dream of singing professionally.

Pam turned out to have a solid alibi for the time of Tommy's death. Her parents confirmed that she had been visiting them in Florida at the time for the purpose of planning her wedding to Tommy. The couple had obviously believed their daughter's version of her love story with Tommy. As Booth left the interrogation room, Pam voiced a concern that no one would ever love her again, and he patted her shoulder with awkward compassion. The very brief contact brought about a complete change in Pam's demeanor. She looked calm, even happy, as she thanked him.

Sweets pounced on the exchange the moment Booth entered the observation room.

"You shouldn't have touched her," he said immediately. Both partners looked confused.

"Why not?" Brennan asked.

"Transference. The pathology is clear. She's possessive and amoral. Her emotional connections are forged through manipulation and delusion. Once a connection that tenuous breaks-"

"So you think she killed him?" Brennan interrupted.

"I can't say that, of course, but she is a dangerous person." Booth and Brennan exchanged a dubious glance, and Sweets continued insistently, "Just be cautious of her, okay? She's not stable." Booth nodded and shooed him from the room.

"Cam needs me at the lab," Brennan said, reading a text on her phone.

"Alright. I'll let you know if I find out anything else. If not, I'll see you around...five?"

"Seven?" she bargained. She hadn't been to the lab all morning, and she was sure that things had piled up.

"Six," Booth declared firmly. Brennan smiled and nodded in defeat. She gave him a quick kiss goodbye and was gone.

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Despite Booth's best efforts, it ended up being a late night for both of them. The team had managed to track down the name of the piano bar where the victim had frequently performed, and they happened to be holding their 'Open Mic Night' that evening. Booth was less than impressed by the various patrons of the Checkerbox who were brave enough to take the stage, but Brennan was easier to please. As usual, she had a lesson on human nature at the ready, and she rattled on about the primal human need for acclaim and recognition.

Booth and Brennan questioned Tommy's primary rival, the manager of the bar, and a gentleman who was posing as a talent scout. By the end of the evening, Booth was certain that the latter two men had no connection to Tommy Sour's death, but he decided to withhold judgment on the victim's rival, Chris Calabasa.

As they left the Checkerbox, Booth felt the familiar tingle of intuition raise the hair on the back of his neck. They were being watched. He glanced cautiously up and down the crowded street, but nothing stood out to him. He placed a hand on the small of Brennan's back and escorted her to the passenger side of the SUV. She looked at him inquiringly, but he shook his head, waiting until they were both ensconced in the vehicle before answering her silent question.

"Feels like we're being watched," he explained. "I didn't see anything out of place, but…"

"There are a lot of cars and pedestrians," she reasoned. "Let's just go. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah. How about the diner? They have cherry pie today." His voice took on a playful lilt, and she rolled her eyes at his teasing but couldn't stifle her grin. Booth smiled back and brought her hand to his lips. "Just kidding."

"The diner is fine," Brennan nodded, her stomach rumbling a little at the promise of french fries.

Booth listened somewhat passively as his wife continued her sociology lecture, but his attention was diverted when she ordered her meal. She'd asked for a plate of french fries and nothing else.

"What, no salad?" he asked, frowning. She shrugged indifferently.

"I wanted fries."

"Yeah, but usually you just steal mine," Booth reminded her. Brennan grinned and swiped a fry from his plate, holding his gaze as she took a bite.

Oddly enough, when the waitress placed Booth's pie in front of him, Brennan was visited by a bizarre compulsion to steal a bite of that too. She stopped herself before actually reaching across the table with her fork, feeling thoroughly confused with herself. It was strange that she'd even had the thought at all. I hate pie, she mused, her forehead creased slightly. Booth was focused on devouring his dessert, and Brennan was glad that he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary about her behavior. He'd never have let her live it down.

"So Max decided to stay another week?" Booth asked.

"Yes. He's been looking for a job."

"Well, I can't imagine too many employers are eager to hire someone with his record and employment history. It's not like he can go back to being a science teacher. It may take him a while to find something."

"True," she replied, her eyes slightly distant as she mulled over his words. "I feel a little guilty leaving him at home while we've been working late nights for this case. I know he said not to worry about entertaining him, but I'm sure he's very bored."

"Max will be fine, Bones. I'm glad he agreed to stay a little longer though. It's good for you guys to have some time together."

Booth's phone rang from the pocket of his green canvas jacket, and he answered it in his typical manner in spite of not recognizing the number on the screen. It was Pam Nunan, and she wanted to meet at his office to discuss Tommy Sour. Booth agreed and told her that he and Brennan could be there in a half hour, but she insisted that he come alone. Booth was slightly unnerved by the request, but it wasn't the first time that a person of interest had been uncomfortable around his wife.

"What'd she want?" Brennan asked when he ended the call.

"She wants to see me. Without you."

"Did she say why?"

"Probably because you make her a little uncomfortable," Booth said gently.

"How so?"

"Well, because… You're you," he smiled. "You're a well-adjusted woman." It was true; Brennan was intimidating in more ways than one.

"You're okay with going alone?"

"Yeah, it's alright," he shrugged. "Why don't you go home and spend some time with Max, okay?"

Brennan agreed with his suggestion, and the two parted ways. Booth arrived at the Hoover a few minutes before Pam, and he escorted her politely into his office.

"I really appreciate you seeing me," Pam told him, her expression sweet and warm.

"Well, it's my job," Booth replied with a shrug, circling to the other side of his desk so that there was a little more space between them. Something about his answer amused her, because her eyes twinkled as she laughed.

"That's precious; it's your 'job.'"

"You said you had information about the-"

"Hockey fan!" Pam grinned, pointing enthusiastically at the large framed photograph hanging behind his desk. "I have that same print in my office. And it's Pam," she encouraged. "I have season tickets to the Capitals; we should go sometime." Booth gazed back at her perplexedly and decided it would be best to get the meeting over with as quickly as possible.

"...Ms. Nunan, about the case-"

"Seeley, please. Pam. ...I need to ask you something." Her smile became slightly more coy in nature, and Booth's frown deepened.

"Okay, well usually I ask the questions-"

"Are you dating Dr. Brennan?" Pam asked haltingly. Her smile had faded, and she looked almost afraid to hear the answer.

"We're married," Booth replied, feeling even more uncomfortable. The woman's efforts to flirt with him weren't necessarily over the top, and it was certainly nothing he hadn't dealt with before. In fact, her mannerisms were somewhat ambiguous. On the surface, she seemed like a very polite and sweet-natured woman, but every time he spoke to her, Booth felt his discomfort increasing. Pam was practically scowling at the information that he was married to his partner, but the gleam of determination hadn't left her eyes.

"How long?"

"Almost a year," Booth said reluctantly. Pam's eyes shifted to a picture frame on the shelf behind him, and her brows lifted curiously.

"Your nephew?" Her tone was almost hopeful.

"My son," he replied, shifting to block her view of Parker's picture. This has gone far enough. "Listen, I'm kind of busy here, Ms. Nunan."

"I brought you something," Pam interrupted again, smiling sycophantically. She pulled a small gift back from her large purse and held it out to him. He took it reluctantly, careful not to touch her this time, and peeked inside. She'd gotten him a few pairs of socks. "I noticed you've got a thing for socks," she explained.

"How did you, uh…"

"I noticed them last time. On the outside, you're this big, tough FBI guy… But really you're just like me. Unpredictable. Like Tommy was."

"...Please…" Booth felt completely out of his element, and Sweets' previous warnings were echoing in his mind. If he'd been right about Pam Nunan being dangerous, Booth certainly didn't want to offend her by rejecting the gift, but neither did he want to encourage her by accepting it. He put the gift back down on the desk and attempted to bring the conversation around to the matter at hand. "Ms. Nunan, you said you had information about Tommy Sour's murder."

"I have faith you'll find out who killed him," she declared, her eyes wide to convey honesty. "And Tommy wouldn't want me to grieve forever…" Her eyes wandered around the room while Booth struggled for a way to end the conversation. "Look at all of these commendations," she gushed. "You're really good at your job, aren't you? ...It's one of the reasons I'm drawn to you."

"Ma'am, this is way inappropriate," Booth told her, his voice firm as he stepped backward instinctively. The change in his tone did nothing to deter her however, and he flinched a little when she laughed as though he had just told a joke.

"'Ma'am!' That is so cute! I can't wait to tell my mom you just said that," she giggled. When her laughter faded, she gave him one last lovesick smile before stepping toward the door. "Well… Bye for now."

Booth watched her disappear down the hallway, feeling an odd sense of foreboding. He'd never been stalked before, at least to his knowledge, and he knew now that Sweets had been correct in his assessment of Pam Nunan. She may not have murdered Tommy Sour, but she had certainly been stalking him. And now it seemed she had found a new object of her unwanted affections. Him.

He decided to put the gift bag full of socks into an evidence bag before leaving the office, and his concerns over Pam Nunan's obvious fixation followed him all the way home. He was surprised to find Max sitting alone in front of the television when he arrived.

"You know, this 'Reality TV' is absolute crap," Max told him, shaking his head in disapproval. Booth snorted quietly.

"Guess it's been a while since you've watched much TV."

"Other than the news now and then, yeah," his father-in-law agreed.

"Where's Bones?"

"She went to bed a little while ago. She's looking a little run down." Max's expression shifted into that of a concerned father, and Booth nodded ruefully.

"She's doing much better than she was before the trial… I guess it's just taking her some time to catch up."

Max inclined his head in acknowledgment but kept the rest of his thoughts to himself, and Booth said goodnight shortly after. Max was fairly certain that his daughter had been physically ill that morning, but she had obviously wanted to avoid drawing anyone's attention to it. He had decided to let it go for the time being, but he resolved to keep a closer eye on her in the meantime.

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For the second consecutive morning, Brennan struggled with nausea as she got ready for work. She darted to the guest bathroom while Booth was in the shower and spent several minutes dry heaving over the toilet. Max hadn't yet made it downstairs, and he was waiting outside the bathroom door when at last she felt it was safe to emerge.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked, looking her over in concern. "You're very pale, and you still look exhausted."

"Thanks," she grumbled, rolling her eyes a little. "I'm fine, Dad. It's probably just the onset of viral gastroenteritis."

"If you say so," Max shrugged. He gave her an odd sort of smile, as if he knew something she didn't, and he disappeared down the stairs toward the kitchen. Brennan hoped he didn't plan on making bacon again.

When Booth and Brennan arrived at the lab that morning, they were surprised to see Sweets waiting for them in her office. He had completed his profile of Tommy Sour's killer, and he was eager to show them a few things he had found on Tommy's MySpace page.

"He's got an okay voice," Booth shrugged, "but he's trying a bit hard. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, there are two types of performers," Sweets explained. "Presentational singers crave attention. It's ego-driven. The representational singer wants the audience to feel. It's about invoking a cathartic experience."

"He's showing off."

"Presentational," Sweets agreed. "Easy on the eyes, easy to forget. One hit wonder at best." Brennan wanted to argue with him, but Booth had pulled up a chair and positioned it directly between her and Sweets. She opted for a slight change of subject.

"How'd it go with Pam last night?" Brennan asked her husband. She'd fallen asleep before he'd gotten home, and she'd been so distracted by her nausea and lightheadedness that morning that she'd momentarily forgotten the meeting he'd had with Pam Nunan.

"Wait, you saw her again?!" Sweets said in alarm.

"Yeah," Booth admitted with a scowl. He now wished that he'd been more cautious about meeting the woman. "She said she had information about the victim, but I never did get it out of her. She gave me socks," he grumbled reluctantly.

"Socks?" Brennan echoed.

"That's not good," Sweets insisted. Booth was well aware of the implications, but Brennan asked Sweets to clarify. "Pam Nunan is attempting to control your emotional agenda through seeming vulnerability followed by generosity. It's classic manipulation."

"I put the gift into evidence, and if it doesn't end up being relevant, I'll mail them back," Booth promised. He certainly had no desire to be in the same room with Pam ever again, alone or otherwise.

The conversation shifted back to Tommy's MySpace page, and Brennan pointed out that he had been on the verge of releasing an album. It somehow triggered a childhood memory for Brennan, and she smiled nostalgically.

"Until I was thirteen, I wanted to be the next Cyndi Lauper," she admitted aloud. Booth grinned back.

"Seriously?"

"The other girls and I referred to her as 'rad.'" Both men were now smiling indulgently at her revelation. "My mother said that I sang just as well."

"As well as Cyndi Lauper?" Booth asked, somewhat placatingly.

"Yes."

"Mothers do that," Sweets nodded. "It's healthy."

"No, this wasn't just flattery," Brennan insisted. "My mother told me that I sang 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' better than she did."

"It was an expression of affection, Dr. Brennan. Not an objective evaluation of your abilities."

"Well, I think you're wrong," she shrugged.

"Okay, then," Booth chuckled. "Go ahead. Belt it out."

"No," Brennan replied, looking appalled at his suggestion. "I can't just burst into song. I have to have music and… an appropriate atmosphere of… frivolity."

Both men snickered quietly, and Sweets drew their attention back to the video that was still playing. He paused it quickly and pointed out that as Tommy had been serenading a woman at the bar, another patron could be seen scowling at them angrily. Brennan studied the man's face, remembering the performance they'd seen him give the night before.

"He plays the guitar," she recalled, a triumphant smile gracing her beautiful features.

"Yeah…"

"That's how Tommy died."

Booth and Sweets followed her curiously as she bounded up from her chair and headed toward the platform. She and the rest of the team performed a quick experiment using a guitar string and a tall block of cheese. The string cut through the cheese easily.

"The guitar string could easily be the murder weapon," she announced.

"Because it cut the cheese?" Booth asked, his determinedly serious expression twitching.

"Because the exemplary wound approximates the tool marks on the victim's C5."

"Yeah, he knew that," Cam smiled. "He just wanted to say 'cut the cheese.'"

Every male on the platform giggled like a five-year-old, and the women merely rolled their eyes in good humor. After a quick reenactment in which Zack, as usual, played the part of the victim, Booth left the lab to bring the guitarist in for questioning. He promised to call Brennan if anything new came up.

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While Booth interrogated the guitarist, Brennan spent a little time catching up on her emails. They'd had a habit of building up on her lately, especially when there was an active case. As she scanned through the dozens of unread messages, one in particular caught her attention. Her doctor's office had sent an automated reminder that it was time to schedule her yearly gynecological exam. She frowned and double-checked the date. A chill moved through her body, traveling from her scalp to her toes, and her hands fell involuntarily to her abdomen. It was as flat as it had ever been, but still...

Her period was late. Very late, she realized in shock as she flipped backward in her calendar. She hadn't documented a menstrual cycle since early March, and it was now nearing the end of May. Brennan had been so worried and focused on her father's trial and the possibility of losing him that she'd shrugged off her irregularity as yet another consequence of high stress, but there was no way anxiety alone could cause her to miss two periods. Her mouth fell open as everything clicked into place. The persistent nausea, the dizziness and lightheadedness, the changes in her appetite and sleeping patterns, even the fainting in Angela's office…

I even considered eating pie, she cringed mentally. She felt like an idiot for misreading the signs.

Unable to go another minute without knowing for sure, Brennan practically sprinted from the lab to the nearest convenience store and picked up a home pregnancy test. Her heart seemed to flutter with excitement, but she was trying to control her response until she confirmed her suspicions. She returned to the lab and headed straight for her private bathroom.

Brennan followed the instructions and placed the test on the counter, forcing herself not to look at it as she washed her hands. While she waited for the requisite five minutes, her mind wandered. Adding another child to their family would change their lives dramatically. Brennan had never been fond of change, but for once in her life, she felt no apprehension at the prospect. She knew that they were ready; being able to take care of Andy even in the midst of a case had proven that. The way she had bonded with him as well as with Parker was proof enough that she was ready to be a mother, and she knew that Booth would be ecstatic over becoming a father again.

She spent the remainder of the five minutes breathing evenly in an attempt to control her excitement, and when at last the time was up, her heart was pounding as she looked down at the tiny window.

Positive.

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Awwww, Mama Bones. So next chapter is the final one, and as you might have noticed, the last episode I'm covering isn't actually the finale. All will be explained in time. :) I actually haven't decided on boy or girl or names and all that. I'd welcome your opinions. Maybe we could even put it to a vote. I don't mind sticking with canon though.

Review!