If there's a new kind of dedication
Maybe you'll find it down the tunnel
Maybe I got above my station
Maybe you're only changing channel

– Elvis Costello, High Fidelity

Charlotte was running through Monroe Park the next morning when she saw Sweets kneeling before Vonnegut, his Labradoodle. She stopped and called out, "They respect you more if you prove to them you're the pack leader."

Sweets stood and turned around, not recognizing the voice, and shielded his eyes from the mid-day sun. "That's what the book said but I'm trying a different approach. Get down on his level, talk it out."

Charlotte giggled, "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna work."

"I'm beginning to think that as well."

"How does an FBI psychologist have the luxury of being in the park at 11am on a Tuesday?"

"Don't tell but I'm playing hooky."

Charlotte made an 'X' over her heart and then raised her palm toward him, "Hope to die…"

He smiled, "Thanks. The last thing I need is to hear is that I'm shirking my responsibilities."

"Seeley's a hard ass?"

"He can be, he's not my boss but he thinks he is and I'm not about to tell him that he's not." He glanced over at her and could tell by the furrow in her brow that she was internally struggling with something. "What brings you out here? You're pretty far from Booth's place."

She sighed, "I got running and I was thinking and then I just ran some more. Which isn't normal for me. Usually when I'm here I sleep all day but…." She cut her own rapid speech off before she said too much.

"But today you have something on your mind?" Sweets asked in 'therapist mode'.

She stared at her running shows pensively, "You could say that." They started walking to nowhere in particular when Charlotte said, "Say people are birds, ok?"

"People are birds." Sweets deadpanned.

"Cute."

He tilted his head, "Sorry."

"They only way for a bird to belong to someone, the only way to keep a bird, is to clip its wings and that's not a bad thing. It has a negative connotation but in reality, birds with clipped wings are still birds, right?"

"Right." He wasn't sure what she was talking about exactly but he had an inkling.

"I mean, you're not taking away their avian essence, right?" For some reason she found herself wanting to bare her soul to this guy who was little more than a stranger to her.

Sweets swallowed a laugh and agreed. "Right."

"They can still get from point A to point B they just can't fly as high and they can't head south when it gets cold but they're still birds, right?"

"Right."

"But I…I just…you know?" She looked at him utterly confused.

"You want to fly as high as you can and you hate cold weather." Sweets looked at this woman whom he assumed rarely lost her cool and found how frazzled she was endearing.

"Exactly, actually I love cold weather but the principle holds."

"So, you're struggling with being a domesticated bird?"

Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek and nodded, "I mean, Seeley is a good guy."

Sweets smiled "Yeah, sometimes I think that will be his epitaph; 'Here lies Seeley Booth - a good guy.'"

"He's fantastic really and I haven't met anyone, at least in my 30's, who can make the clipping of wings even seem appealing but he does in his…his way but…."

"So, you're not balking at him clipping your wings, you're balking at them being clipped at all?"

She paused on the trail and shook her red hair dramatically out of its ponytail before pulling it back up, "I know I don't want to fly around aimlessly forever but I don't know if this is the right time to stop."

B&B

Booth and Brennan sat on opposite sides of her office couch, reading case notes and passing Chinese food containers back and forth. Neither spoke more than a few words, content in the easy, comfortable rapport that they hadn't enjoyed in months. After almost an hour, Booth looked at Brennan and noticed a scowl as she reread her report on the victim's remains.

"Something bothering you, Bones?"

Brennan's head snapped around to him, as if she had forgotten he was there. "Hmm? Oh, no. I was just thinking."

"Big surprise. You, thinking." He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "I am always thinking. It's impossible for anyone to stop thinking unless they expire and cease brain activity naturally."

"There she is." He pointed at her. "That's the Bones I know and love."

Brennan turned the scowl on Booth. "What does that mean? I'm always me. I haven't changed."

Booth smiled softly and poked her shoulder with his outstretched finger. "I know that, Bones. I hope you never change." They shared a look filled with deeper meaning that Brennan wished she fully understood. "I just mean that you've…we've been off our usual rhythm lately. It's nice to see some things never change. That's all."

Brennan nodded slowly and purposely. "Yes. I find I have missed our connection the last few months."

"I'm glad, Bones. I'd hate to be the only one." He threw her his best charm smile.

Brennan shook her head at his obvious attempt to deflect from whatever intense conversation they seemed to be skirting, oddly disappointed. She had been struggling with their new dynamic since Charlotte had entered the picture, and even though things fluctuated on occasion, she had been anchoring herself with moments like these where it seemed they were still…them. Beyond everything that was happening, Brennan decided that she was going to find comfort in that simple, irrefutable fact.

She turned and gave Booth a crooked half-smile…the one that she had no way of knowing always turned him inside out.