Hard chapter to write! It's incredibly angst ridden (for me, anyway), which I don't usually do because it makes me feel sad! I'm really nervous about this one. Please go easy on me ;)

The autumn/fall night I mention – I'm sure you all know I mean the scene from the hundredth episode. I don't actually know if it was autumn during that episode, but I thought it looked kind of autumnal, so that's how I reference it in the story.

Oh! And Martin's thoughts make an appearance. I quite like Martin. He's a fully developed person in my head, and he's pretty awesome. But I doubt I'll develop him that much in the story – but I hope you guys get to like him as much as I do.

Chapter Eight: The Shock in the Horror

Booth pored over the case file again, considering the report of the inspector who had been working on the case. He felt that the man had done a pretty lacklustre job. He could see that Al had certainly appeared the most obvious suspect, but he certainly need only have been the only one. There were many avenues of investigation which could have been followed up that Booth could see just from reading the report. The inspector had made very little effort to try and find the scene of the crime, and Booth felt that it would be an important avenue to investigate.

He considered the new evidence that Brennan had added to the case after a mere ten minutes – the couple were murdered in a bed, and the male, Brad Turner, had taken a sizeable chunk out of his attacker.

He looked out the window for a moment, letting thoughts and images flood his mind. He knew it wasn't scientific, but the method worked for him.

Brennan looked in the rear view mirror at her partner, seeing that he was deep in thought. She wondered what he was thinking about – solving the murder in his mind, no doubt. She always marvelled at that; how he could imagine what had happened, and more often than not, be right. She knew it was something she could never learn. Just as he was sometimes awed at her prowess with forensics, she was awed at his brilliance when it came to understanding people.

She used to think she could understand him; she used to know how he felt about her, even before he admitted it. And like a fool, she had ignored how she had felt, out of fear, out of idiocy. Her arrogance and her fear – her inability to change, had led her to make the biggest mistake of her life.

She sighed, turning her eyes towards the window, watching the scenery fly past.

Her sigh broke Booth out of his reverie, and he glanced at her in the mirror. He saw a look of pain on her face, and wondered what could have caused it. He thought about the day they'd been having, and thought it was quite good – she'd discovered evidence that would clear Al's name, and he couldn't think of anything that would have made her happier.

He threw the case file down next to him, staring stoically out the window. He used to know her so well. She wasn't an open book by any measure – but the years they had spent together, sharing their lives with each other; sharing almost everything – he had learned to read her, to know how she was feeling, what the right thing to do was when it came to her.

A distant, painful memory of a blustery fall night filled his mind and he pushed it away, not wanting to remember that moment.

You knew her so well, Seeley. Yet you pushed her where she shouldn't have gone, and look at this mess it's caused. At least then you had some hope.

It was his turn to sigh.

With both of the Americans lost in a world of their own, Martin considered them both. Despite the fact that this Dr Brennan character seemed like a cold and rather arrogant woman, Martin could see the warmth in her eyes when she looked upon her partner, and despite the brusqueness, he saw the vulnerability and the fragility the she hid so well. In Booth he saw what everyone else did – the lion heart, the joking exterior – but just like Brennan, he hid certain truths about himself, and hence, bore a similarity to Brennan that not many others shared.

Martin hid his smile as they turned into the driveway of Alexander Norris. Neither of the two had given him much credence as a detective, despite the fact that he had nothing to do with this case prior to his assignment as Dr Brennan's temporary partner. Yet he saw with absolute clarity what these two intelligent, talented people appeared absolutely blind too.

.-.-.-.-.-.

Both Brennan and Booth slammed their doors as they exited the car, each feeling melancholy from their very similar thoughts. Brennan started to power up the pathway to the Norris family home, and Booth followed after her. Slightly bemused, Martin followed suit.

Bloody hell, they're a dramatic couple.

Brennan knocked on the door, and couldn't help but smile as Josephine appeared behind the flyscreen door, grinning up at Brennan.

'Temperance! You're back!' She said, and Sarah appeared in the doorway behind Josephine. She looked sick with worry, and the mood Brennan appeared to be in did little to ease her stress.

Sarah opened the door to them with a strained smile, her hands on Josephine's shoulders.

Booth entered behind Brennan, smiling reassuringly at Sarah. Whatever he felt about Brennan right now, it was second to what Sarah was feeling for her husband. They should probably put her out of her misery.

'It's good news, Sarah. Great news, in fact. Your husband could very well have a clear name within what, ten minutes?' Booth said, smiling at Sarah, and then Ella, who had also appeared.

Sarah raised her eyebrows, shocked. She looked at Brennan, as if for confirmation.

Brennan nodded, smiling, her mood changing considerably as she remembered the reason they were here in the first place. Martin remained quietly in the background, watching the scene before him.

'Al!' Sarah called, and in a few moments Al was in the kitchen with them, looking even more nervous than his wife had. But when he saw the look of relief on his wife's face, he appeared to relax automatically. He looked at Brennan, his eyes shining.

'Have you done it already, Tempe?' He asked, sounding as though he was finally a free man.

'I have found evidence suggesting that the male victim bit his assailant before he was killed. Accordingly, the murderer would have obtained a scar which would match the dental imprint of Bradley Turner. The scar would need to be in a relatively obvious, non-fleshy part of the body; as the damage to the teeth of the victim could have only occur if he bit into bone.' She smiled reassuringly at Al, who was starting to look worried again.

She turned to look at Martin, addressing him.

'I concluded that the only place that Bradley could have bitten to obtain the damage to his teeth would be any of the fingers – it's quite possible that instead of a scar, the murderer may have had a part of his finger bitten off –'she added, as if an afterthought; 'the wrist,' she said, indicating too her own wrists, 'the face, or around the ankles, knees or hip bone. Basically, anywhere where there is little flesh on the body.'

'I really doubt Brad would have been taking chunks out of the knee, Bones,' he said, looking slightly mischievous again.

She considered him. 'I believe that we should cover all likelihoods, regardless. I want Al to be cleared on all charges, no doubts at all.'

Booth nodded, crossing his arms and stepping back.

Al looked to his wife, somewhat nervous. 'Sarah?' He asked, grabbing the bench before him, as if for support.

She went to him, giving him the support he needed, her arm around his hip, her head resting on his shoulder as she looked up at him. He smiled at her, and gave her a squeeze.

'Do you think you could take the kids outside?'

Sarah nodded, and the children, who had remained quiet up until then, piped up. Booth was pained by their confused expressions, desperately trying to work out what was going on.

'Daddy? What's happening?' Josephine asked, standing still beside her mother. Ella, on the other hand, was tugging at her father's shirt, looking slightly tearful.

Al leaned down to hug his children, looking as though he was on the verge of tears himself. Booth was trying to understand the sadness on Al's part – what did he have to fear?

Al stood up after giving his kids one last squeeze, having whispered reassurance too them. Sarah ushered them out of the kitchen door quietly, closing it behind her.

Al now faced Brennan, who looked at him apologetically.

'Martin will examine you for scars, and then you'll be free of all accusation, Al.' She smiled at him as Martin came over from the corner of the room, gesturing at Al too show him his hands and wrists.

Martin considered them, but even from a distance Booth could see that they were free of marks, and he certainly had all his fingers.

'Shirt off, please?' Martin asked, and Al obliged.

Again, his skin was free of any scars.

'Pants off,' Martin said, somewhat apologetically. Al obliged.

Standing in his kitchen in nothing but his jocks, Al was hardly the jovial, seemingly carefree man Booth had met just yesterday. Al refused to look at either Booth or Brennan, his eyes carefully trained on the floor.

Booth was trying so hard to be interested on the paintings on the wall to try and put Al at some level of ease that he didn't see what both Brennan and Martin saw, until he heard her sharp intake of breath.

He looked at her first, wondering what could be wrong. Then he realised, it was entirely obvious.

Looking at Al, he saw now that he was in handcuffs – because there was a semicircular scar on his knee. Al looked horrified, but not entirely surprised.

Booth felt his heart harden to this man, that he had trusted; that he had felt a connection too, an understanding of. He was shocked; absolutely shocked that he could have been so wrong about someone.

He looked at Brennan, who looked completely shattered, as though a fundamental truth in her life had been altered. She sat back on the bar stool, and Booth could see that she was trying to come to terms with it, to understand what had just happened.

'I can't believe-'she gasped, pulling her arms tight around herself. Booth walked over to her, automatically wanting to protect her, though he knew this was something he could not save her from. He enveloped him in his arms, holding her tight to him.

She barely registered his arms around her; she just kept on staring at Al. Booth too, considered him, and Al still looked horrified, but his jaw was set.

'I can explain, Tempe,' He said quietly, and Martin began to pull him out of the room. Al provided no objection.

They disappeared out the door, and Booth kept his arms around Brennan, and for a few moments, they remained in that position, not saying a word.

Martin re-appeared in the doorway, and addressed Booth.

'I'll take him downtown for questioning,' he said quietly. 'I'll need you both to come in later, though. But – don't hurry. We can wait until she's ready, Booth.'

Martin smiled sadly at the two, before disappearing out the door.

Booth released his grip slightly, and extended his arms so he could take a better look at her. She tried to smile up at him, but he could see that she was trying not to cry.

Automatically he pulled her in tight, her head resting on his chest as he stroked her hair gently.

'It's going to be okay, Temperance. It's going to be okay,' he said quietly, soothingly.

She shook her head against his chest, and he thought for a moment she was going to push him away. Instead she tightened her grip around him, and he heard her mutter very quietly, as if she didn't want him to hear –

'Nothing is okay.'

You have no idea how sorry I am to do that to you, readers. Please forgive me!