As prisons went, this was probably the nicest of any she'd seen . . . and she'd seen plenty of them. Amy Morton looked around curiously as she and Brennan stopped at a guard's station to have their persons and their belongings searched before they were allowed further inside.

She mentally corrected her own phrasing. Not prison. Hospital. Mental institution. Although . . . Taking note of the bars on the windows and the carefully controlled access to doors and interior corridors, she amended her thoughts once again.

A prison is a prison is a prison.

"Please do not shuffle those pages out of order!"

The acerbic tones drew her attention to the tall, dark haired woman in front of her. Brennan stared down the security officer as he rifled through the manuscript in the white box, practically daring him to misplace one sheet.

He didn't.

Amy studied the anthropologist without comment as they were led into a small visitors room, still somewhat shocked to find herself in Brennan's company. Considering the events that followed their previous meeting, the last person she'd ever expected to hear from again was Dr. Temperance Brennan.

Well, okay, maybe the last person was Special Agent Seeley Booth but Dr. Brennan was a close second, and seeing as how that 'just partners' thing turned into marriage and a kid, it was pretty much the same thing.

Amy squared her shoulders and shrugged away the trace of self-doubt that lingered. I was just doing my job. I can't be held responsible for what happened after . . .

"Dr. Brennan!"

He was happy to see her. That much was obvious by the smile on his face when a uniformed guard ushered Zack Addy inside.

Amy smiled, too, professional and friendly, only to be ignored when Zack's gaze skimmed over her and then the box on the table, before he focused on Brennan.

"I was surprised when I saw your name on the visitor's log today," he said, as he sat down. His gloved hands fell loosely to his lap, out of their view. "I saw the news report about Dr. Sweets. Is that why you're here? Will you be coming more often now that he's dead?"

Oh, right, Amy thought, as she deliberately studied her nails. I remember you now. Straight to the point and no filter.

When she glanced up, she noticed the fond expression on Brennan's face as she looked at her former intern and tried to view the man seated across from them through the same lens. He was in need of a haircut, she mused, but the somewhat shaggy look suited him. He'd also put on weight since she'd last seen him; in the baggy hospital jumpsuit, the pounds were unnoticeable, but his cheeks were full and round and almost childlike. He looked a decade younger than the age of 34 listed in his file.

"I hope that won't be necessary."

At her words, Zack's forehead wrinkled into a frown.

"What do you mean?"

Brennan finally acknowledged Amy with a wave of one hand.

"This is Amy Morton. You may not remember her but -"

"I remember her." Zack interrupted the introduction. The welcoming smile was gone when he fixed Amy with a pointed stare. "Your efforts led to Howard Epps receiving a stay of execution. He later escaped from prison, murdered two others, including his ex-wife, and almost succeeded in killing me and Dr. Saroyan."

Amy grimaced at the succinct recitation. Never gonna live that one down, am I?

"Yea, that's me. Thanks for reminding me about that."

The sarcasm sailed over Zack's head.

"You're welcome."

"While her efforts to free Howard Epps were misguided and had unintended consequences," Brennan continued doggedly, "Ms. Morton is obviously a very dedicated defense attorney. I've taken the liberty of engaging her services on your behalf. As your legal representative, this conversation is protected under attorney-client privilege and can't be recorded."

Amy stole a glance at Brennan from the corner of her eye. Engaged my services? You barged into my office and bullied me into taking his case -

"Why is that necessary?"

Zack's suspicious tone dragged Amy's attention away from the memory of the prior afternoon and Brennan's sudden appearance and relentless demands.

Brennan laid one hand on the box in front of her.

"A manuscript was found among Dr. Sweets' possessions. He was writing a book, Zack. About you."

When he didn't respond, Brennan removed the lid and pushed the box toward him.

"He used his interviews with you to piece together the story of your relationship with Gormogan. Dr. Sweets laid out in great detail the methods used to manipulate you into doing The Master's bidding, into becoming his apprentice. I believe - and Ms. Morton agrees," she added, "that this documentation could be used to secure your release."

"I said it might be helpful," Amy clarified swiftly. She ignored the look of irritation Brennan shot her. "It's a starting point. Given the time you've already served, we could use the information compiled by Dr. Sweets to argue -"

"Do you know what this means?" Brennan obviously found Zack's lack of reaction to her announcement disconcerting. "We can get you released. You can leave here!"

Zack's gloved hands stayed in his lap, below the table. His face remained impassive.

"Where would I go?"

There was a beat of silence.

"What?" Brennan was taken aback by the question.

"Where would I go?" Zack calmly repeated his query. "Dr. Hodgins lost his fortune. He was forced to sell the Cantilever estate along with his other assets. I no longer have access to the apartment above the garage. Where would I go?"

Amy's gaze flicked rapidly between them. Brennan looked as confused as she herself felt.

"You'd be free to go anywhere," Brennan answered finally, as if that much should be obvious. "You could go to your family in Michigan. You could even stay with us, if you wanted, until you decided on something permanent. You could meet Christine. She's a wonderful little girl -"

"Has Agent Booth agreed to that?"

A pink flush warmed Brennan's cheeks. "Well . . . no. Not yet. But he will as soon as I mention it to him –"

Zack cut her off. "What would I do? Where would I work?"

Brennan's attempt at a dismissive chuckle rang hollow. "I'm sure we could find you something at the lab –"

He was already shaking his head.

"I'm a convicted felon, Dr. Brennan, and one who has been labeled mentally unstable. Any evidence I handled would be drawn into question by the court."

"But –"

Her presence ignored, perhaps forgotten, Amy listened to Zack's rejection of Brennan's offer of freedom with a stunned expression that matched the other woman's. This conversation was not going at all as she had expected.

Clearly, it was not going according to Brennan's plan, either.

"This is my home, Dr. Brennan."

"Zack –" She blinked away the sudden appearance of tears.

"It's not as uncomfortable as you assume," he said evenly. "I'm a figure of some stature here. Because of my intelligence, the other patients look to me as a person of authority. Even the man who believes he is Theodore Roosevelt seeks my advice."

Amy quickly turned a burst of uncomfortable laughter into a cough.

Brennan was fiercely insistent. "You didn't kill Ray Porter. You shouldn't be here!"

Zack shook his head. "My actions led directly to his death. I'm responsible even if I didn't wield the knife."

"That is an important distinction," Brennan snapped. "You've been held prisoner inside this institution for seven years, Zack! Isn't that enough?"

Zack didn't blink.

"I would have killed him, Dr. Brennan. I would have done anything The Master asked me to."

"I don't believe that." She became bullish. "You could never take a human life. I should have known that from the beginning."

"I don't share your confidence," he replied. "I didn't commit the physical act of murder only because I was stopped before it was requested of me. I was susceptible to manipulation once. It is rational to acknowledge the risk that I might one day fall prey again to a dominant personality. I remain a danger to society."

Brennan shook her head. Her eyes shimmered behind a film of moisture. "No, Zack -"

"I'm content here, Dr. Brennan." He faced her, confident and sure in his decision. "I've built a life of usefulness and purpose, even in these circumstances. I'm in contact through correspondence with some of the preeminent scientists in the world. Are you familiar with Edvard Moser?"

The heavy weight of resignation began to settle over Brennan's shoulders as Zack's certainty and assurance sank in.

"Yes. He was just awarded the Nobel Prize for Medicine."

Zack raised his hands. Even within the black leather gloves, the fingers on each hand were obviously withered and damaged.

"I've regained approximately 73% normal usage, slightly more on my dominant right hand. I don't anticipate further progress. I accept the loss of functionality as part of the price I must pay for my involvement with The Master. The other part is my stay in this facility. My contribution to society now is through examining and discussing the work of others who are not so encumbered. It's enough."

Brennan swiped away a tear that escaped down her cheek.

Zack looked at the manuscript set between them.

"I did not give Dr. Sweets permission to write this book. His death does not end my right to confidentiality." His gaze swerved abruptly to Amy. "That's correct, isn't it?"

"Well . . . I . . . No." Startled by his unexpected address to her, Amy stammered a bit. "I mean, yes, we'd need your authority to move forward but . . ."

Zack nudged the box toward Brennan.

"I'm glad you know the truth, Dr. Brennan, but my place is here. I'm sorry your trip today was unproductive."

He pushed away from the table, crossed to the door and rapped his knuckles against it twice.

When it opened, he turned back.

"I know you're disappointed," he acknowledged quietly. His expression was suddenly uncertain. "Will you continue to visit me?"

Brennan was unashamedly crying but forced a smile for his benefit.

"Of course I will, Zack. Every month."

His head dipped. "Thank you. I'll look forward it."

Without a word of goodbye, he allowed the guard to lead him away.

Silence fell in the small room. Uncomfortably aware of the grieving woman beside her, Amy shifted in her chair.

"He might change his mind. A few more years in here and -"

"He won't." Suddenly businesslike, Brennan wiped her cheeks dry, tucked the lid back on the manuscript's box and stood up. "He's made a decision based on the evidence before him. It's done."

She didn't say another word as they went through a final security check and left the hospital. It wasn't until they reached the parking lot and a tall, suit-clad figure straightened from where he leaned against Brennan's car that she spoke again.

"Booth."

When he opened his arms, she went right into them.

"He doesn't want my help." Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. "He doesn't want to be free."

"I figured." He pressed a kiss against her forehead.

Brennan drew back. "How?"

"Because he told Sweets instead of you." He tucked a loose, windblown strand of hair behind her ear. "He knew Sweets couldn't do anything about it but you'd move heaven and earth to get him out." As he spoke, his eyes met Amy's. "I didn't expect you to stoop this low, though."

"Hey!" Irritated, Amy paused as she unlocked her car. "There was legitimate doubt in Epps' case! Even you said -"

Booth dismissed her by the simple act of ignoring her in favor of Brennan.

"Let's pick Christine up from daycare and take her to the park. We can rent a paddle wheel boat."

As abrupt in her own way as Zack, Brennan didn't say goodbye to Amy, either, or offer a thank you when she rounded her own car to get behind the wheel.

"That is an excellent idea."

They drove away in separate cars, leaving Amy standing alone in the parking lot, frowning after them.

.

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*The End*

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I apologize to those of you who expected a warm and fuzzy story about Zack returning to the lab like their own version of the Prodigal Son. I think he needs to stay where he is, too. (Although I'm still hoping that Brennan finds out he didn't kill anyone.)

Thanks for reading.