Heyy ;)

RL's hectic. So's this story.

'Nuff said!

xG

30. Alone

Brennan had been watching the steady rise and fall of Booth's chest for the better half of the past four hours. Her partner existed in a peaceful slumber, while she tossed and turned in a disturbed state of mind.

She hadn't told Booth about the messages - she had already promised herself that she wouldn't - but her quilty conscience ate away at her.

I shouldn't have to fell guilty, she chided herself silently, it wasn't my thumbs that initiated the contact in the first place.

But you reacted, another voice cheeked from the back of her mind. You couldn't just leave well enough alone, could you?

Nothing was well enough.

Brennan rolled over.

Tell him!

Don't tell him!

Hot. It was too hot.

Pulling the covers back carefully, so not as to wake Booth, she invited the chill of the cold evening. The room was black, apart from the green glow of Booth's digital clock. Her clammy body soon cooled, and she began to shiver through her thin camisole. Straining her eyes through the dim light, she spied one of Booth's work shirts slung over the chair in the corner of the room, along with a pair of her jeans.

Aware that she slept beside a trained sniper, she slipped from the mattress as carefully as she could, and tip-toed to retrieve the shirt. Hands tentatively searching for his chest-of-draws in the dark, she tugged upon the top draw and took a pair of socks.

Clothing items in hand, and sparing her boyfriend a parting glance, she disappeared into the sitting room. When her jeans and Booth's shirt were on, she collapsed onto the couch, and tugged on the socks, inspecting the walls of the room as she did.

The retro analogue clock read quarter to five.

She still had another two hours before anybody would even consider rousing from their sleep.

She retrieved her boots and trench coat from Booth's valet stand by the door. Tuckering his shirt in, she peered out the windows, only to view a night sky that hadn't yet broken to dawn - coloured orange and pink by hectares of street lights. As she pulled the belt tight on her coat, she had already made her decision. Tearing a piece of paper from a pile of Booth's recycled mail, she took a pen from his desk, and wrote:

Booth -

I've gone for a walk. I'll probably be back before you wake up, but if I'm not, don't worry - I won't be long after.

Lots of love -

xx B

Sticking it to the centre of his fridge with a spare magnet, she took the spare key to his apartment from her keychain, and departed.

.

-~B&B~-

.

Brennan welcomed the cold atmosphere of the morning - she loved the fact that her breath particles clouded upon exhale. That, as she walked through the sleeping suburb, lone vans were parked outside milk bars, delivering the daily paper. Though there was a logical reason for it - she was always bemused that it was always these small department stores, and service stations that we open in the mornings; that their world continued to spin while everyone was taking a break from it.

As she strode along the bitumen pavement, hands buried deep within her pockets, she contemplated the day ahead of her.

More investigating. More headaches. More arguments.

She hated serial killers. She hated the cases that dragged on. And on. And on.

Sometimes - in moments like the the present- she wondered what would happen if she just gave up. Threw in the towel, and bought a private island somewhere in the pacific. She could certainly afford to do so - financially, she was set up for life. Booth could become an International Super Spy - work casually, as he pleased - and they could live together on a hideaway island. He, the secret agent, and she - the brilliant author, writing away her days, and studying ancient relics and tribal spots right at their doorstep to quench her thirst for anthropology.

Somehow, as she strode through the sleeping streets of Booth's Washington suburb - it felt like a dream just within finger's reach. And, for the first time in her life, she'd never wanted anything so badly - except for, when she had wanted Booth's requited love (but even then, she had always known that she had had it, even when it had been verbally denied by both parties).

She could have it. They could have it.

But then there was the Jeffersonian. Angela. Hodgins. Cam. All of her interns. The lost souls of the victims that wanted to be returned to their families; there were so many people that depended on her - that needed her. The last time she had done something for herself, Cam had been terribly upset - and, at the time, all Brennan had wanted to do was turn around and tell her coworker that going to Maluku had been the first thing that she had done for herself in years.

All the same, she knew that there was too much to lose.

Her students needed her, because if she were gone, the fellowship would fall through again.

Her friends needed her, and she needed them.

Brennan had no idea how she had once managed to exist with so little an emotional attachment to anyone; there wasn't a day that didn't go by, that she didn't need someone, or she didn't want to be there for someone else.

The sky was just beginning to break with rays of pink when she reached the roundabout that would lead into towards the city centre. Turning, she walked on the opposite side of the rode for a change, though when she passed the milk bar, she crossed over, and entered the little general store. She smiled to herself when an old-fashioned bell tingled overhead as she opened the door. Shoving a hand into her pockets, she discovered a ten dollar note - which would give her enough to buy The Washington Times and The Washington Post. As she strolled through the small aisle that stocked everything from toothbrushes, to canned beans - a small, pink, inoffensive package caught her eye.

She had missed her period the month before, and this month's was still to come.

You're just stressed, she coaxed herself. That's all. It's happened once before…once...and that was when you got beaten up in South America and got put on strong medication.

But you weren't sleeping with anyone then.

Enough of the inner monologue!

She collected the two papers from the news rack, and went to the counter.

An elderly man smiled kindly at her from behind the cashier.

"Good morning, ma'am."

Brennan reciprocated his good nature. "Morning."

"Sure is early for you to be up and about," he observed, glancing outside towards the dawning day.

"No earlier than you, Sir," she replied, grin in tact.

The older man chuckled. "I've been doing this every day for the past forty years. What's one early morning, ey?"

"Touche." Brennan looked at the small counter, which housed chewing gum, candy and even the odd cigarette lighter. Hardly thinking, she added a small hand-packaged bag of lollies to the collection.

"A bit early for candy, isn't it?" The man sounded amused.

"I have a feeling I might be in the need for them later today," she explained with a small grimace.

"Tough job?"

"Well…" Brennan rolled her shoulders. "I suppose you could say that."

The man punched the prices into a hand calculator, and retrieved the change from an old-fashioned register.

Putting he items into a plastic bag, he handed over her purchases. "Now you have a good day…Ms…?"

Brennan smiled and extended a hand. "Brennan. Temperance Brennan."

The man clasped her slender hand, and shook it. "Pleasure to meet you Ms Brennan - Oliver Bradshaw."

Brennan released the grip. "The pleasure was all mine, Mr Bradshaw. Thanks." With that, she departed the little general store with a grin bigger than a dinner plate.

She had walked but fifty metres, when the sight of an approaching figure made her want to smile and frown all at once.

"Hey!" She called out to her partner, who strode towards her in his beige detective's coat. "What are you doing out here?"

She really loved that coat.

But Booth didn't smile.

"What's wrong?" She asked when they reached each other. "Did you get my note?"

He kissed her. "I did." Again, he brought his face to hers.

She brought him to arm's length. "I…told you I was going to be back soon-"

"Please," he interrupted her, a strange desperation in his eyes. "Please don't forget, for one moment, that there's a murderer on the loose that won't stop at hurting you to get to me."

Brennan remembered the messaging. "I won't," she whispered.

As he enveloped her in his arms in a tight embrace, she looked over his shoulder worriedly.

She was going to have to tell him about it.

Chasing away the thought, instead, aloud she said, "We should be get back."

Booth parted the hug, but didn't let go of her hand the whole way home.

.

-~B&B~-

.

"So, what did you and Studly get up to last night?" Angela probed with a lilt of cheek, when they caught up later that day.

Brennan sighed and stared up at the ceiling of he friend's office, imagining a non-existent sky as she lay on the couch.

"Bren?" Angela put down her tablet and walked over.

Turning her head, the anthropologist smiled - but the expression was lifeless. "We didn't really get up to that much," she answered eventually.

Her friend furrowed a brow at this. "Oh?"

Brennan pressed her back into the padding of the couch. "I was sick last night; food poisoning, I believe. I didn't sleep. I went for a walk really early this morning - otherwise, nothing much happened."

"You were sick," Angela relayed. "And you didn't…sleep last night?"

Brennan shrugged. "Yeah. So - what of it?"

"Sweetie, don't you think you should go and see a doctor or something?" Angela placed a hand on her womb.

Something flickered across her friend's face, and she sat up. "Angela, I could count hundreds of nights when I haven't slept - I'm not an insomniac, but it's just always happened."

"When?"

Brennan frowned. "What do you mean, 'when'?"

"Name a time when you haven't slept through night."

Giving her friend an incredulous expression, she answered dryly with, "The Lauren Eames case. I didn't sleep for about three nights straight."

"And then before that?"

Brennan frowned. "I…don't know. When I first arrived in Maluku - when I began to doubt going there in the first place. The nights I missed Booth. I-"

A light rap on Angela's door disturbed her reply.

It was Vincent.

"Forgive me," he apologised sincerely. "Cam is about to have me drawn and quartered if you and I didn't get to work soon."

"I understand," Brennan told him, "and I will be there in a moment, okay?" Her intern bobbed his head in understanding, and disappeared - she turned back to Angela. "Your point in all of this being?"

"Sweetie, I want you to answer me in all honesty…"

"I always do."

"Okay. Have you been feeling queazy - I mean, other than being ill last night?"

Brennan folded her arms across her chest. "It's stress, Angela. I know me." She began to walk out. "It's just stress."

Angela grasped her arm, and yanked her to a halt. Her friend winced at the surprisingly tight grip, but that didn't stop her from towing her to her desk, and removing a box from her handbag.

"Bren - this is one of those times when I know something about you, that you just haven't admitted to yourself yet." She pressed the pregnancy test into Brennan's hand. "Take the test, Sweetie."

"But I'm not-"

"Then what have you go to lose? If anything…" Angela's face shifted into an unfathomable expression, a she stared down at her growing womb. "You'll gain something." She looked back up at her.

Brennan felt strangely numb. "I…"

"Take the test."

Brennan exhaled an unsteady breath that she hadn't even noticed she was holding.

Take the test.

The anthropologist caught her friend in an eye-lock. "Will you be with me…when I…?" She drifted of quietly, rattling the box.

Angela smiled softly. "Of course."

"Dr Brennan!" Cam's voice boomed from the platform.

"When we stop for morning break," Brennan compromised, voice still little.

Her friend nodded, and grasped her forearm supportively.

Brennan exhaled heavily, and broke away from her so she could join their boss.

.

-~B&B~-

.

"So, the victim was in Witness Protection?" Booth reiterated to Caroline, scanning the files that the prosecutor had just handed him.

Her eyebrows narrowed. "That's not all, Cher - he was in the program because he was supposed to testify against a drug dealer. Infamous drug dealer Raul Ortiz, who's-"

"Now imprisoned," Booth finished for her thoughtfully, recalling viewing the story on the news a couple of days in a row. Back then, he had thought nothing of it.

"Yes. You going to call your girlfriend about this?"

Booth was already pulling out his phone, and didn't respond to Caroline's probing eye when he didn't contradict her for naming Brennan his 'girlfriend' - as he so often used to do.

The prosecutor watched the agent, and mirrored his surprise when he hung up not long after he had made the call.

"What's wrong Cher?" she asked.

Booth frowned. "Bones…didn't answer; it went straight to her message bank."

"Maybe she's taking another call," Caroline reasoned. "Or her cell's out of battery - I don't know. It's no big deal; call her again in a minny."

"A what?"

"A minute. Look, I gotta go." She departed.

Booth dialled Brennan again.

No answer.

He made his way towards the lifts.

.

-~B&B~-

.

Inhale. Exhale.

Brennan had been repeating the process ever since Angela had sat in the power room, and she had entered the small bathroom alone.

"Are you okay, Sweetie?" Angela called from the next room, knocking on the door that separated them.

Brennan stared at the box. What was so scary about it anyway? It was just a test. It could be negative.

It could be positive.

Brennan sat on the lid of the toilet seat.

"Sweetie?" Came her best friend's concerned voice again.

"I'm fine, Ange. I'm just waiting for the result," she replied with more confidence than she felt.

Lie.

She looked at the box once more, and then at her handbag. Shoving the box to the bottom, and covering it with her wallet and a few other bits and pieces, she moved to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly. Tearing a piece of paper towel from the dispenser, she paused mid-way as she dried her them. She tore more hand towel. Scrunched it. Tossed it in the bin.

It wasn't as if anyone was going to look in the waste basket, but just incase they did - it looked full enough.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she opened the door.

"How did it go?" Angela immediately inquired. "Are you…?"

Brennan hesitated for a moment, debating on whether or not to tell the truth. "It was negative," she heard herself say.

"Oh…Sweetie. I'm so sorry."

Brennan frowned. "Why are you sorry?"

Angela took her hand. "Because I'm sympathising with you - having a baby is a wonderful thing, and you and Booth-"

"Are not. Okay?" Brennan pulled away, heart thumping loudly in her chest, ears ringing. "We're not - and I'm fine about it."

Though she was unconvinced, Angela let it go, and followed her friend back to her office.

They were halted by Booth right before they reached the door.

"Why didn't you answer?" He demanded immediately, eyes panicky.

"And that's my cue to leave." Angela offered them a tight smile and walked slowly away, so she was still in ear shot.

"Booth," Brennan sighed. "You can't freak out every time I miss a phone call. That's not rational." She entered her room, and sat down at the desk. "Now, what's wrong?"

Feeling chided, and belittled, Booth fidgeted irritably. "What's wrong, is that I need you to take this seriously-"

"And I do!" She replied sharply, patience wearing thin. "Everyday. I get that you have the tendency to overreact, but if something was wrong, you know I'd tell you - or find a way to." Guilt burned in her stomach. She flickered her eyes towards the screen of her laptop in attempt to shield the expression that occupied her face. "I just…need you to have a little more faith in me."

"I do-"

"No," she interrupted, speaking through her teeth. "You don't - and quite frankly, it's a little overbearing."

"Bones, until Broadsky's caught, I won't stop with the overbearingness." He perched himself on the edge of her desk. "Hell, we've been over this a hundred times. You're just going to have to live with it."

Brennan stood in a fluster. "And how different would this be if we weren't in a relationship? Would you be bending over backwards to save my arse if Hannah was still around?"

Booth cringed at her reply. "Is Hannah seriously going to resurrect herself every time we try to have a serious discussion?"

"Discussion?" Brennan scoffed. "It's an argument, Booth. We are arguing."

"Pointlesslessly! And I would look out for you, regardless of whether we were together or not. But we are."

"And don't I know it!"

Her partner took the bullet with force. "What's that's supposed to mean?"

Brennan folded her arms across her chest. "I don't know - what do you think it means?"

Booth was speechless. "I'll see you later," he finally managed. "I have work to do."

Brennan relaxed, and her arms dropped. "If you had work to do, then why were you here?"

"Because I thought you could help," he answered ruefully, making his way out.

"I want to stay on my own tonight," Brennan called to him before he could disappear entirely.

He froze. "No, that's not an opt-"

"It isn't up to you," she replied quietly, tone disconcerted. "I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. If it makes, you feel any better, I'll stay away from the windows. I'll close all the blinds."

He watched her for a moment, facial expression colouring with a hundred separate emotions - and then and then he stormed away.

Supporting her weight against the desk, she stared at the floor, and her hand subconsciously drifted to rest on her lower abdomen.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

What had she just done?

Trouble in paradise?

Is Brennan pregnant?

I don't know about you guys, but I liked that chapter - even though it was super tense - but I'm not a telepath as well as a writer... so, you know where the box is ! (They've made it so huge now, and so easy to use, so no excuses!) :P

Love you all lots (especially to those who have already reviewed and favourites - I write this story for you guys, and you know it!)

xG