Thanks for the reviews and alerts, guys! It really makes my day :)

I must say, I am very annoyed at FF at the moment… they changed the review reply! Gahh, it used to be so easy, open the email on my phone, and be able to reply in 2 clicks… :/ it's retarded now.

Anywayy, I'm so happy today it has got me in a writing mood. Cooper, (the brain damaged cow) has learnt to eat corn plants! It's an improvement, and hopefully he will eat hay soon. But, unfortunately, he is coming down with a cough.

I'm in science at the moment, but it's not anthropology or forensics so… meh.

Thanks a lot to my reviewers last chapter, berniej and Everybodyelse027. You make me smile.

Thanks to Jess for reading through this. You're amazing ;)

Chapter 10:

Brennan tried with shaking hands to steer her car into parking properly. Just scraping past the car in front of her, she managed to fit in her vehicle. Then she turned off the ignition, and froze.

Brennan looked around. She was just in front of her house. It was a path that was imprinted into her mind after hundreds of times travelling along there. For some reason, when she started the car, she just wanted to be in her house. In her bedroom. And in her bed, so she could cry the evening into night. She thought that from an anthropological point of view it was correct of her to return to the dwelling of her current residence. But she couldn't bring herself to open the door, get out of the car, and reach her apartment.

All the thinking was encouraging her to keep the sobs coming. As much as her mind wanted her whole self to calm down, her body resisted. She sat in the car, hunched over in the driver's seat, with her arms on the wheel and her face resting on her arms. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable position, and after what could have been hours, maybe minutes she wasn't sure, her joints were cramping up.

"Not good, Brennan." She told herself. "You need smarten up and get out of your car. This is ridiculous."

After she had stabilized her breathing, she shakily rose from her car. She slammed the door shut. Then Brennan trekked across the lawn, into the building and eventually reached her apartment. She reached into her pocket for her keys. They were gone. She thought back. The last time she used her keys would have been to drive her car.

Brennan felt like slapping herself. The car. She hadn't even remembered to get the damn keys out of the ignition! And to think she installed automatic locking in the car for convenience. She wasn't going to go all the way downstairs now. And even if she did, how was she going to get her keys out?

She leant against the door and slowly slid down to the ground, resting her head on her knees. She should have never let the case get to her. If that didn't happen, then she wouldn't have confessed to Booth about her regrets, she wouldn't have told Angela what happened, the whole team wouldn't have found out, and she wouldn't have been so heartbroken because she didn't know if she could trust her best friend. She and Angela had been through so much, they knew a lot about each other including their secrets. So why did Ange have to leak this one? It was probably one of her most important secrets, and it didn't help that everyone knew about what had happened. But why she was so broken up about this she didn't have a clue. Maybe because she felt like this would cause Booth to hate her, and he couldn't trust her. She hoped that this wouldn't interfere in their partnership.

But it was remembering the moments she had experienced with Booth that led her to remember the way into her apartment. As she shifted her weight, a small pain stabbed her rear. She was sitting on her spare key. She heaved herself up and decided it was time to smarten up and get up. She reached for the key and jabbed it into the lock repeatedly until it no longer resisted. She thrust the door open and ran inside not stopping until she reached her bedroom.

She was so exhausted all she wanted to do was rest, so she lay until the sobs subdued and let the tears lull her to sleep.

What was probably a few hours later, as the sun was setting deep into the sky outside her window; she listened intently to the banging that was coming from the direction of her door. She realized that the quick group of knocks resembling a pattern was a beckoning of her attention, not an ominous warning in her nightmare. Brennan's eyes fluttered open. After a moment she heard the pattern again, and she took action.

She quietly leant over and slid her top drawer of her bedside table open. She reached inside. Then, grabbing a bundle of socks, she unwrapped from them her gun that she got from the mall. She didn't think Booth would approve of her shooting someone, but at the moment she didn't care. As soon as she sat up she heard her door creak open and footsteps that were getting closer. She held her breath. In a split second she reached her door and looked down the hallway.

Someone was in her kitchen. They were standing next to the sink, probably choosing a knife. She thought of the plan he would have. Slip into her room when she was asleep. Stab her to death. Mutilate her remains.

It was obvious that he was a man due to the width of his ilia and scapulae, and quite largely built at that. He would easily be able to defeat her in a brawl if it wasn't for her skills. She could tell nothing else about the appearance of the man, his coat was huge and he was wearing a scarf and a hat as well. The way he stood was a bit like Booth, but this man would have to have been stalking her to know that she was home and asleep at this time of day. Normally she was at the lab. She should have noticed someone around.

He shifted his weight, and started to pull back from the bench. It had to be now. He would see her if she didn't get out of there. Or make a move. At that instant her fight or flight instinct was switched to fight. In another flash she ran up to him, and just as the man turned around, she hit him fair and square on the temporal bone. That should knock him out. But not kill him, no need to irritate Booth by murdering someone.

Then she felt a burning all over her skin. Everything was on fire. She looked around. Her kettle was lying on the ground, a huge crack up the side and the lid had broken off. A smashed coffee mug was laying on the ground. Another one was just teetering off the edge of her bench.

Then she looked down. She felt sick with horror. Booth was lying beneath her half unconscious, sputtering something inaudible.

She couldn't bear the burning on her skin any longer. She sprinted to her bathroom to cool off in a shower.