Chapter 27: Hey Soul Sister

"Hey Brennan what do you want for your birthday?" Brennan scowled furiously into her bottle of water as she vaulted the stairs to the forensic platform. She was growing increasingly tired of the question. If it wasn't Angela asking as she was now – put out that Brennan always informed her that she didn't need a present – then it was Hodgins, suggesting outrageous ideas, some not unattractive. If she managed to evade the dynamic duo, Sweets was there begging in their sessions for a hint, Cam casually dropping it into the lab reports in her neat script for Brennan to find as she read over their case files, and even the interns who she knew from Angela's confidences, were pooling together to purchase her something.

As she strode onto the forensic platform, Fisher, Wendell and Mr. Nigel Murray jumped apart guiltily, ensconced around an empty examining table, obviously discussing what she did not need to be reminded of. Angela, unheeding to her bad attitude, although Clark, who was studiously ignoring the pool of other interns, flinched as she not quite slammed the empty bottle onto a rolling end table, vacant of instruments.

"Come on Bren," wheedled Angela, "give me a hint." The other interns leaned forwards eagerly and Brennan looked up.

"I do not need anything. I do not want anything! If I cared enough for it, I am perfectly able to fiscally purchase it for myself. Please save your money for something more productive." The interns wilted at her tirade, which had grown quite loud, and had reached even Cam, who poked her head out of her office, gave it a shake and smiled, and retreated back towards safety. Hodgins walked toward them nonchalantly, ignoring her outburst. Irritatingly enough, so did Angela.

"That's not the point of a birthday sweetie. I'll get you what I please with whatever amount of money I please. Now we can make this very easy, or very difficult. Be reasonable, and so will I. If not…" Angela trailed off darkly, "and your present will be a whole new wardrobe of my choosing. And I will effectively get rid off all your other clothes. Underwear included." Brennan scowled furiously, knowing Angela was making no empty threat. The interns giggled behind their hands.

"Dr. Brennan," she breathed deeply at the formality; it helped ground her in the present, and not into nightmares that Angela not so subtly alluded to.

"What have you found Clark?"

"Fractures on the upper metacarpals, as if the victim was clawing at something or someone shortly before her death." As Clark continued his perfunctory examination, Brennan unwound, her quick mind able to listen, catalogue and wander simultaneously.

Something had been bothering her. The only person who had not asked what she desired for her birthday was Booth. Instead, he had asked for his St. Christopher's medal back, almost bringing her to tears. He had rushed to assure her she would get it back, but the familiar disc hanging around her neck seemed a huge loss to her in so short a span. However, another disc often bounced beneath her shirts, though no one else had seen it. She had been thinking seriously about it; after the fitting at the tailor for her bridesmaids dress she realized Russ' wedding was in less than six weeks. Both anxious with anticipation, and nauseated with it, Brennan realized that a plan had been unfurling itself in her brain ever since she had received the ring. Booth loved weddings; he would, undoubtedly be her date. Russ and Amy had already fixed him a spot with Brennan, Parker, and the two girls at the main table as a family. When she had received the seating arrangements for the reception, it had finally clicked into place for Brennan.

She treated him like family; she was never ashamed around him. Free to be herself and unwind, he had seen her inebriated and passed out, he had watched her sleep even though she had nightmares, they had spent Christmas together on more than one occasion…in all honesty, Brennan knew that in her heart Booth already was family. So what was holding her back from making him her family? They would figure out housing arrangements in the year or so they were engaged. They were partners…and she had known they were partners for life for years now. Having made that decision, Brennan suddenly felt as if a giant shaking worry that had been rattling inside of her like a poltergeist had fled before her decisive nature. Brennan knew once she made a decision, she rarely wavered from it.

"Dr. Brennan. Dr. Brennan." She snapped out of her reverie with a blink.

"Clark. I'm sorry, what did you say?" While he repeated the last of his findings, Brennan paid strict attention. As Hodgins stepped forward to inform her of his analysis though, Brennan felt her resolve to pay attention waver and flee; most unlike her.

It was the wedding, she had decided. They would have a lovely ceremony, and they would go for a walk under the stars and she would let him find the ring. She wouldn't bow on one knee, but simply ask him, directly and clear headed, with the same words he had once dictated to her. That love defied the laws of physics. She realized she should also probably ask Jared...did girls ask familial permission? She wanted desperately to ask Angela, but knew her best friend could not keep her mouth shut.

"Bones…Bones…" she realized she had zoned out through Hodgins' entire findings, and Booth coming onto the platform as he was waving his hand before her eyes.

Booth wrinkled his nose; Brennan was always observant, but her tilted, canted head and unseeing, unblinking gaze had unnerved Hodgins into silence; it had taken Booth three or four calls of her name before she had started out of her reverie, seemingly shocked that he was right there.

"Bones, I was saying that I have to go to the Hoover building – do you want to tag along?"

"Yes," she said, "yes of course. Let me get my bag." She immediately began unbuttoning her lab coat and then, as if having second thoughts turned to Clark and her waiting interns.

"Very good work Dr. Edison. I trust you have everything under control. I want a full report on my desk by this evening. Hodgins – you too."

"But Dr. Brennan!" called Clark to her retreating back as Booth guided her away, "It's already…done."

"Let her go Clark," laughed Angela as Hodgins turned away, his heart squeezing painfully.

"Where's Brennan going?" asked Cam, swiping into the platform in another one of her skin tight yet flattering dresses.

"Let her go Cam – her head's on cloud nine," shrugged Angela.

"She didn't hear a word I said," corroborated Hodgins. "I even started talking about the magical particles of harrius potterficicus and she nodded along like it was pure science." Cam laughed.

"Wonder what's got her so distracted?" The other two shrugged and Cam leaned in.

"What are you all getting her for her birthday?" Angela stamped a foot.

"She's being difficult. She says she doesn't want anything, but we can't get her nothing, which means that she's going to end up with someone she really doesn't want."

"I think I know what I'm getting her," sighed Hodgins, and the other two women spun around, dark eyes flicking over his face.

"What?"

Hodgins told them.

"A what?" shrieked Angela.

"A horse," blinked Hodgins innocently. "Girls are all about the ponies. Plus Booth mentioned….or was it Max…Brennan used to ride as a kid."

"I could see that," put in Cam thoughtfully.

"Well there goes my plan," Angela sulked sourly.

"You were going to get her a horse too?" asked Vincent Nigel-Murray, all the interns shamelessly eavesdropping.

"I was," glowered Angela, as if this were all Hodgins fault, "going to piggy back or contribute to Hodgins' idea…but now…ugh."

"Where will she put it?" asked Wendell. Hodgins shrugged.

"I assume eventually Dr. B will invest in a country house or lake house – having livestock on it will seriously bring down the tax returns."

"Did Booth say what he was getting her?" asked Angela.

In fact, Booth was ruminating on the situation now. He was almost positive it was the perfect gift; he knew Brennan inside and out. The only problem is that she often surprised him and she might react differently than he had originally planned. He realized their car ride had been silent; both lost in their own little worlds. He covertly snuck a glance at her, wondering what she was agonizing about. He comforted himself that at least it wasn't the same thing he was. His stolen glance though, turned into outright staring, a feast for his eyes at her beauty. Lost in her own world, her eyes gone where he couldn't follow, he gulped down desire staring at those ice blue eyes when he realized he was going to have to talk to Max.

Great.

He opened the door for her out of habit. She murmured a distracted thanks, but squealed his favorite un-anthropologist squeal when he muscled her up against the car and kissed her soundly until her eyes were focused on him on the here and now, and not somewhere far away.

"What are you thinking about?" he murmured, threading his arm around her back and guiding her towards the FBI building. He didn't even need her there; the case was almost wrapped up, and the witnesses questioned. He simply enjoyed the pleasure of her company.

"Just tired," she smiled back, and his step faltered slightly on the stairs. She rarely lied to him, even about matters so trivial. He supposed it must be something embarrassing. He cast around for a neutral topic as they waited inside for the elevator.

"Bones you looked…well…amazing doesn't even start to cover how great you looked in that bridesmaid dress." She blushed slightly.

"You're coming right?" she asked anxiously, and Booth realized she must have been worrying about the wedding fast approaching; she would hate to have to be at the wedding, at the center of attention, in a crowd of strangers. She was asking him to be there because she needed him. Or so he thought. Nonetheless, his chest swelled with pride and protection.

"Course I am," he laughed, nudging her with a shoulder as they bumped together in the elevator, unable to keep each other occupied in a much more preferable way because of the third agent, who was looking very awkward as it was with their obvious familiarity. "Plus I gotta bring Parker since he's the ring bearer– although Rebecca will pick him up from the reception and take him home. It gets pretty late."

"Okay." He noticed that she looked as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders just by reassuring her of his attendance. He hadn't realized she had been that worried.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he promised her again. She smiled a huge smile.

"Good."

"You've been out of it today."

"I've been tired." Her words were careful and delicate.

"Well there's a cup of really crappy coffee with your name on it upstairs in the lounge."

"You want some?"

"I wouldn't leave you Bones."

"I know." She was silent and in the cover of the opening door to the lounge she repeated it to herself, the sincerity and sureness ringing in her ears.

"I know."

Within a minute Booth was handing her an overfull cup of lukewarm coffee. Predictably, her ungainliness and her newfound wave of exhaustion knowing that Booth was coming to the wedding, caused her hand to tip the edge of the cup all down the front of her.

"ARG!" she forced out between gritted teeth, angry at herself for not paying attention for the third or fourth time today.

"Just go home Bones. Take the rest of the day off hmm? I don't need you here. We're wrapped up. And Cam'll understand." Booth quickly whisked the cup from her grasp and sopped up the front of her covered clothes with paper towels.

"I can't," she sulked sourly. "My car is back at the Jeffersonian. Booth, just lend me your car keys and I'll run back home and grab a change of clothes and meet you back here."

"That's fine, we'll grab dinner at the Founding Father's. Then go back home and…" Brennan blushed as another agent poking his head into the lounge conveniently interrupted Booth.

"Agent Booth? There's someone waiting for you in your office." Sharing a wry grin Booth dug the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to his partner.

"Go on," he urged.

"You haven't asked me," she asked with a half grin on her face, shifting her weight to one foot as she waited.

"Asked you what?" he grinned back, turning from the doorway.

"What I want for my birthday."

"I got that one covered Brennan – just trust me on this one Bones. I know exactly what to get you."

"Will you give me back my St. Christopher's medal?"

"Yours? I distinctly remember you tried giving it back on multiple occasions."

"Yes…well…it grew on me."

"It does that," he smiled impishly. "No worries Bones. You'll get it back. Now go – I have someone in my office." As she slipped past him with a smile, smelling divine even saturated with cold coffee, Booth smirked to himself. She had no idea what he was getting her. But it was perfect.

He hoped.

As he opened the door to his office, not knowing what to expect, Booth sighed in relief when he saw a familiar face, then frowned in confusion.

"Hey Taylor, what's up?"

The honey haired young woman stood, clutching her purse to herself and turning simultaneously, a tremulous smile on her face. Booth was inwardly shocked but covered it well as he made his way around his desk. Her usual ponytail and slick patina of sweat that accompanied her ready smile and pretty features had been replaced by long silky hair and full makeup. Similarly, her athletic shorts and tank top were replaced by a snugly fitting sundress, outlining very womanly curves and calf high leather boots.

He realized suddenly that she wasn't some cute kid. She was a very beautiful young woman. For some reason, he had never noticed.

"Hi Booth." Booth had a sudden striking thought.

"Parker-" She seemed to think along the same lines and said at exactly the same time.

"It's not Parker."

"Oh." Booth was nonplussed. "Is it Tony? Or some legal trouble?" He softened the words with a wink and a smile, but his offer was genuine. She seemed to know that because she grinned, as if trying to slice the tension only she could feel. Booth was still confused.

"No, no it's not that. I…er…I met with Dr. Brennan…no that's not really important…" Booth's eyebrows rose. Although he knew Taylor only somewhat, he knew that although patience with herself was limited, she had it abounding with the kids. She forcibly reminded him in personality of Cam, though he had never mentioned it to either woman. However, regardless of his guesses of her character, he knew she was never at a loss for words. She always knew how to exactly express what she needed to say. For her to struggle to say something imparted more of its importance than anything else. He sat down, face serious.

"Please, sit down. What's wrong?"

"Nothing…nothing…wow, this is much more difficult and seemingly awkward than I had previously anticipated." Booth tried not to bite his lip. As an English and Law major, Taylor had Brennan's habit of spewing off big words and changing her speaking style mid sentence when trying to rationalize her thought process. As a result, he liked to brag to the other coaches that he had the most verbose team in the league as his boys now liked to congratulate each other with words and phrases such as "splendiferous," "first rate," and "exceedingly well done."

"Booth…" her voice was quiet and her brown eyes boring a hole into his bobble headed bobby from London. She seemed to jerk her gaze to his face with a great force of will. "There's something I haven't told you. Why I signed up to be the little league assistant coach." She swallowed. Booth was catching onto her nerves but unsure why.

"It was…to work with you." Booth wanted to groan. Another crush.

"Taylor, I'm flattered but Brennan is my partner-"

"What?" She seemed confused and he stopped, also nonplussed. "That is not where I'm going with this." His brow crinkled.

"Then what…"

"Your father abandoned you and Jared when you were thirteen years old. Yes?" Booth felt as if she had taken Angela's baseball bat to his gut.

"Wh- How do you – how can you know that?"

"That was 1985."

"I…I…" Booth didn't know what to say. Taylor plowed on blithely.

"My parents were married in 1987. They had known each other for seven years. But your parents were married in their teens. It's probably why your family life was so dysfunctional."

"Yes…but…wait what?" Booth was starting to lose his patience, and his anger was rising inside of him. How dare she. Here Taylor seemed to falter, and Booth forced himself not to jump down her throat. She was only a kid, after all.

"Does this…conjecture…have a point?" he seethed in the politest tone he could muster.

"Although my parents knew each other for seven years, there are some years unaccounted for. My mother had an entire year of medical school without my father in 1983. I've pieced it together from silences and guesswork but – I'm pretty sure my mother dated someone else in that year apart. Nothing happened." Booth's head was spinning. Where was this going?

"But several years later, in Houston Texas of 1990, my father was attending graduate school to get his MBA…" Booth's mouth was dry. In those five years he had attempted to track his father down before enlisting after college. His last residence was in Houston, Texas, drinking away his alimony checks. Taylor cleared her throat, shuffling her purse on her lap.

"My sisters – you've seen pictures…met my mom. They look like each parent. Little clones. One looks like Dad…one like Mom. Everyone always told me I looked like a mixture…or like neither. After going through an art class in college, we toyed with a facial recognition program that matched us genetically to each parent." Booth could hardly see her through the white haze around her face; all he could stare at was her shining hair, and her eyes that had turned a vibrant amber in the light. They were full of promise, of eagerness. That wasn't how he had remembered them. There was silence.

"My mother had an affair." It was a simple statement, devoid of bitterness, though Booth wasn't naïve enough to believe she hadn't had to face that demon on her own. "The program matched many of my facial markings to my mother and none to my father. Naturally, I at first put it off as a fluke – no recent pictures of my father and whatnot." Booth didn't catch the slip. "Disregarding it, I began to amuse myself, and my friends – by putting in pictures of almost everyone I knew. Teachers. Family. Cousins. Roommates."

"Me." His voice was hoarse, ragged.

"25% match," she confirmed softly. She finally reached into her purse and pulled out what looked like an official document. He took it numbly but didn't have the mental clarity to read it. Taylor took a huge breath.

"I…I think I'm your sister."