Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through season 4 finale to be safe.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. You guys are the greatest fans a writer could ask for. This chapter goes out to Debi (bb4evr) and Sam (Samvalasam), whose guessing games inspired bits of this chapter. Thanks ladies! And enjoy!

"What do you think the odds are, Agent Booth, that the bullet in Mr. Hart's forehead matches the caliber of the weapon you currently have strapped to your hip?"

Booth stared at the man, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. He had to be.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, Captain, I mean I did just suffer a blow to the head, but did you not just accuse yourself of murder?"

The other man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He blinked a few times, and then finally managed to mutter, "Excuse me?"

"You've had Booth's gun all night," Bones said from where she was seated on the front stoop of Hart's home. "So if it was Booth's firearm that discharged a bullet into Logan's forehead, then it must have been you who pulled the trigger."

Westin looked so taken aback that Booth was sort of afraid he might just keel over in a dead faint.

"Did you murder Logan Hart, sir?" Bones asked in a matter of fact voice.

"I…I…I…of course not," Westin gasped.

"Well," Bones replied. "Neither did Agent Booth. So I suggest you get to work and figure out who did."

With that dismissal, she rose from the porch and walked over to the rental.

"I'll wait in the car," she called back over her shoulder.

Booth watched her until she was seated in the car with the door left cracked open to allow a breeze to enter. Then he turned to Westin.

"Listen to me carefully, Captain. There is a team of highly trained FBI agents on their way here as we speak. They do not take kindly to one of their own being wrongly accused of murder. Especially when that comrade was so recently harmed in an explosion which occurred under your watchful jurisdiction. Now, I understand that this is your town and you feel obligated to solve any problem which might occur here, but I strongly suggest that you cooperate with these agents to the fullest of your ability."

Booth watched the other man through cold eyes until Westin nodded. Then he turned away and went to join Bones in the car.

Temperance watched Booth out the corner of her eye as he maneuvered the vehicle through the nearly deserted streets of the town.

"Should you really be driving?" She asked him.

"I told you, Bones, my head is fine. Not even a headache anymore."

"No dizziness?" She asked, probing the back of his head lightly. "No lightheadedness, or blurred vision, or…"

He took one hand from the wheel long enough to swat her hand away from his head.

"No, Bones. None of that."

She heard a soft buzzing sound, and then Booth reached down and unclipped his phone from his belt. He pressed a couple of buttons and then set it on the console between them.

"Booth."

"Ah, yes, Agent Booth," Captain Westin's voice echoed from the phone.

"How can I help you, Captain?"

"Um, in the spirit of…cooperation…I thought that you should know we've spoken to the man who delivered the second set of photos."

"And," Booth urged.

"He works for a delivery company on the other side of town. He said that the package arrived there while he was not on shift, so he cannot describe who brought it there. I checked with the company, and the employee who took the package does not recall enough about the man who brought it to give us a sketch. The man paid cash. There are no security cameras."

Temperance heard Booth sigh.

"Check nearby businesses for cameras that might have picked up anything."

"Yes, of course."

"Thanks for filling us in."

Booth disconnected.

"Cooperation, eh?" She asked him with a slight smile.

He rolled his eyes.

"I simply suggested that Captain Westin try his best to cooperate with the FB when they get here."

She nodded. "Any idea who Cullen is sending?"

He peeked over at her, then quickly put his eyes back on the road. He looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Uh, I think, uh, he might have said something about…Agent Perotta…"

She stared at him for a moment, and then turned her gaze out the windshield. Her mind was reeling. Why did the mere mention of that woman's name cause her stomach to tighten? She was not afraid of her. No, definitely not that. What other emotion would cause such a reaction?

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"You okay?"

She nodded, her gaze still fixed directly in front of her. "Fine," she muttered.

She could feel his eyes on her as they stopped at a red light. She dared not turn her head and look at him. Booth was always so good at reading her. Even when she couldn't read herself.

"Bones. Look at me."

"The light's green, Booth," she told him and finally felt his gaze lift from her as he pressed his foot to the gas and started forward.

They were silent most of the way back to the hotel.

"Who is coming with Agent Perotta?" Temperance finally asked as Booth parked in the garage behind the building.

"Agent Callaway. I think you've met him at the office. I've worked with him once or twice. He's a good agent."

She nodded.

"Will they be staying here?" She asked, indicating the hotel.

He took the keys from the ignition and turned to look at her.

"I don't know." His eyes narrowed and he seemed to be studying her. "Tell me what's up, Bones."

She tried to look confused, but she wasn't sure if she succeeded. "I don't know what you're talking about, Booth."

"Yes," he nodded, "you do."

She reached for her door handle, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Bones."

"I'm fine, Booth. It's nothing, really."

He shook his head. "You started acting weird when I mentioned Perotta's name," he told her. "I know you don't really like her, Bones, but…"

"I like her just fine," she said, annoyed to hear that her voice sounded weak and yet defensive.

"Bones…"

She spun to glare at him. "I'm simply overwhelmed by all that has happened today."

With that, she pulled her door open and slipped out of the car.

"Who would want Logan dead?" She asked, hoping to change the subject.

She felt Booth's watchful eyes on her for several moments.

He pressed the elevator's call button, then took her shoulders and set her to one side of the doors. When the ding indicated the doors opening on their floor, he stepped forward, gun drawn, and swept his eyes all over the interior of the elevator. Finally, he placed his hand at the small of her back and ushered her into the elevator.

"Could be totally unrelated," he said once they were enclosed in the metal box.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm just saying," he said with a tilt of his head, "it could be. But more likely he found out something that the stalker didn't want him to know."

"The bomb?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"He might have known the stalker's identity," she commented. "But I guess we'll never know."

He pushed her into the corner of the car as it stopped moving and the bell dinged again. His gun was out once more and he swept the lobby with his keenly aware brown eyes.

He motioned her out of the elevator and they crossed the lobby to the stairs together.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Brennan," the desk attendant called out.

She gave him a brief wave as Booth hurried her across the hall.

"Booth, why are you in such a rush?"

He didn't look at her as he answered; his eyes were too busy surveying their surroundings.

"It's too open in here. There are plenty of clear shots through the windows and doors."

They hit the stairs in tandem. He kept his hand at her waist, exerting just enough pressure to keep her moving at the steady pace. He paused outside of their room and stood her to one side of it. This was getting really old, she thought with a barely suppressed eye-roll.

"Stay here," he told her, then unlocked the door and moved into the hotel room.

A few minutes later, he was at the door again, ushering her inside. Only once the door was shut and securely locked did he turn to look at her.

"You sure you're okay?" He asked, concern flashing in his dark eyes.

"I'm fine, Booth."

"And you're okay with Agent Perotta being here, because I could call and…"

"No, Booth, it's fine."

He watched her closely for another minute before he nodded once and turned away.

"What do you want for lunch?" He asked.

There was something going on in her brilliant mind that he wasn't in on.

He didn't like that. And he really couldn't explain why.

Probably it wasn't any of his business. Probably it was a completely personal matter.

Definitely he didn't care one way or the other; he wanted to know what the hell was wrong with her.

He watched her as she tipped her head onto the back of the sofa and let her eyes close momentarily. Her pale neck was stretched out, practically begging for his fingers…or his mouth. He pushed the thought away like the unwanted temptation that it was. Focus, Booth, focus.

But he couldn't focus on anything but the smooth skin of her cheeks and the dark sweep of her lashes against them. Her auburn hair was all tousled curls, not at all like the smooth manufactured style it had been in earlier. He liked it better this way. It was easier to imagine she'd just gotten out of bed, all soft and warm and…

Her eyes flashed open and he was caught in the soft, blue-grey pools.

"What?" She asked around a yawn.

"Nothing."

"Why were you staring at me?"

"I…I wasn't," he said, mocking offense. "I was just…observing you. You look tired."

She watched him for a moment, her eyes hiding none of her curiosity or intelligence. She seemed to contemplate the truth of his words. Whether or not she had reached a conclusion, he'd never know. She shook her head and turned away from him.

"I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

He pictured her there in bed next to him—crushed up tightly against him—felt her there now despite the distance separating them, both physically and otherwise.

"You should have come back here to sleep."

Her head snapped around and she looked almost…hurt.

"I wanted to stay with you," she said very softly.

His heart clenched and not for the first time, he had to physically restrain himself from pulling her into his arms. God, the last thing he wanted was for her to think that he didn't want her. Couldn't she see that he always wanted her? Would always want her. However he could have her.

"I'm glad you stayed," he told her just as quietly.

They sat silently, watching each other until he couldn't stand the silence or the tension any longer.

"Why don't you go take a nap?" He asked her. "I'll be here."

She nodded slowly. "Will you wake me when the FBI team gets here? I want to be there when you brief them."

"Of course. I'd planned on taking them over to Hart's house afterwards and let the CSI team go over it with a fine-tooth comb."

"Okay."

She left the room then, closing the bedroom door quietly behind her.

He stared at the spot where she'd disappeared for long moments. This was getting beyond complicated. That line he'd created and gone over and over again with an indelible marker was starting to blur, to fade, and he couldn't seem to find the marker again—wasn't sure if he really wanted to anyway.

She meant more to him than even he could have imagined going into this thing. He thought back to the early days with a wry grin; the fighting and bickering, the glares and the rolled eyes. There was still all of that, but beneath it was a steady current of camaraderie, of respect, of…caring. They were more than just coworkers, more than friends. They were partners…equals. They complemented each other; his street smarts to her intelligence, his ease of reading people to her ease of reading bones, his Catholic upbringing and beliefs to her need for physical, definable proof. She kept him in line, she kept him sane. She knew his secrets and he knew hers. And despite their pasts, or maybe because of them, there was more understanding and compassion and feeling between them than he had ever felt with anyone else.

He rose slowly, one thought in his mind. He needed to be with her.

He'd almost lost her more times than he cared to count, but somehow this last time, the bomb in the SUV last night, had brought it all home for him. He needed her. He was headed towards the bedroom, determination and resolve at the forefront of his mind, when his cell phone buzzed on his hip. He took it from its case without pausing in his stride and flipped it open just as he pushed the bedroom door silently open.

"Yeah," he whispered softly.

"Why, hello, Agent Booth. Am I interrupting something?"

Perotta.

His eyes slid closed even as he stepped back into the sitting room and pulled the bedroom door closed behind him.

"Agent Perotta," he said. "Have you guys arrived yet?"

She chuckled lightly. "I guess I'll take your ignoring my question as a positive. And yes, we're on our way from the airport."

"Good," he said, slumping against the wall beside the bedroom door. Maybe it was better that he'd been interrupted. He told himself that all he'd wanted was to slip into bed with her and fall asleep, but he was pretty sure he was kidding himself.

"We weren't able to get a room at the hotel you and Dr. Brennan are at," Perotta told him.

Good, he thought with an inaudible sigh. Because that was just another complication he didn't need. Perotta was a good agent, and a great woman, not to mention easy on the eyes, and she knew it. Her flirting was harmless most of the time, but Bones already felt uncomfortable having her here and he didn't want that feeling amplified. He was beginning to think that Bones's feelings came mostly from jealousy, but that might have been wishful thinking. Either way, Booth wasn't really up to dealing with Perotta in a more than professional aspect right now anyway.

"Where are you staying?"

"Next town over had two rooms that just opened up."

"Lucky you," he said. "There weren't any at all when I got here."

"Hmmm." He could hear the grin in her voice. He ignored it.

"Call me when you get settled in and Bones and I will take you over to the crimes scenes."

"Alright," Perotta said with a sigh. "The CSI team from the Montpelier office will be headed this way in an hour or so. We'll see you then."

Booth flipped his phone shut and stared down at it for a moment. In another lifetime, one where Temperance Brennan didn't exist, Payton Perotta might have been a nice distraction, probably not a long-lasting one, but an interesting one to say the least. Now, the thought just didn't do anything for him.

He glanced up at the closed bedroom door. He should probably just knock on the door and tell her to be ready in about an hour. Yes, that's exactly what he should do.

He stared a moment longer, and then put his hand on the doorknob and turned, pushing the door open once more. This time he didn't pause, he moved quietly into the room and stared down at his sleeping partner. Her beauty never ceased to stun him breathless. Especially now as she lay there, so sweet and soft and innocent.

He knelt by the side of the bed and raised a hand to her face. The first caress was on impulse. The next was to fulfill the almost overwhelming urge to touch her again.

"Bones," he said softly, his hand stilling on her cheek. "Bones, time to wake up."

Her eyes blinked open slowly and when her sleep-fogged brain finally recognized him, a soft smile spread across her face.

"Booth," she whispered.

And the damn line disappeared.

A/N: Thanks again for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought!

And don't forget to vote on my Plum poll. You don't even need to be a Plum fan to do so. I just need help choosing names, so all you need to know is that these guys are ex-military, mercenary types (good-guy mercenary types) who work for a man named Ranger who runs a security company called Rangeman. Oh, and they're all really hot (Rangemen always are). So go vote please!