A/N: Alright, here we go. Enjoy. Oh, and a slight language warning. Just one word, so I'm not changing the rating for that. I'm pretty sure I'm allowed one or two under just the T.

Chapter 8

May 31st, 2011

It was an odd feeling, the possessiveness that washed through Brennan as she watched the cat lady—clutching a particularly matted and flat-faced feline in her arms—stare more at Booth's figure than at the pictures he was holding out for her to look at.

She had no right to be jealous, and certainly no reason given who this woman was and Booth's clear lack of interest... but she still felt a twinge in her abdomen that had nothing to do with the pregnancy and everything to do with her emotions.

She and Booth possessed no definition, and she shouldn't allow herself to feel this way. She was the one avoiding talking about her feelings, the one who was trying to wrap everything up in a little box in the back of her mind. She was sick of worrying, sick of wondering. Sick of trying to figure out if he felt the same way, or if she had completely missed her chance. It was so much easier to stop thinking about it.

The feeling in her stomach, though, didn't go away. It only seemed to increase as the cat lady's eyes roved over his chest and downward.

She cleared her throat and tapped the pictures.

"No," the woman said with a 'humph,' tossing Brennan a disapproving look, as if she were some sort of villain in this situation. It reminded her of the time she'd been called a scarecrow by Fat Pam, when Booth had made no effort to correct. This time, he didn't seem to notice, gathering up the pictures and thanking the woman before they headed to the door.

"Are you sure you don't want any tea?" the woman insisted, hurrying after them. The cat squirmed in her arms.

"We're fine," Brennan said tightly, and the woman pursed her lips.

"I was talking to him," she corrected, tipping up her nose.

Brennan ground her teeth together as Booth politely turned her down. A small amount of relief alleviated her fluttering abdomen as Booth put a gentle hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the apartment in front of him.

The woman gave her another piercing look before she slammed the door behind them.

"They don't get much crazier," Booth muttered, shaking his head.

"No, they don't," Brennan agreed emphatically. "Who's next?"

"Selena Sabella," he said tiredly, rolling his neck back. "As if today hadn't been fun enough as it is..."

She didn't ask him what he meant by that, just swallowing quietly, and letting him take the lead for the few steps down the hallway. He rapped sharply on the door at the end, and Brennan peered around his wide frame just as it opened, revealing the wispy woman. She had nearly translucent blue eyes that seemed to look through the both of them, and her hair was so metallically blonde that it was almost white. It was long, and straight, and hung halfway down her back. Her lipstick was too red.

"Oh, I was hoping you'd be back," she said, revealing a perfect row of white teeth. She opened the door wider and gestured for them to come inside without even hearing what it was they wanted. Booth acquiesced, stepping in and looking back to meet Brennan's eyes as she stepped inside as well.

She was already pouring them both cups of coffee before they could speak, and pulling out chairs from the table for them to sit in. Booth sat down hesitantly, and Brennan joined him. She stared at the coffee that was placed in front of her a moment later, twisting her expression and finally offering a 'thank you' that she hoped sounded somewhat sincere.

From what she knew, a small amount of caffeine wasn't overly harmful. But she had no intent to drink any of it for the next nine months. She was not dependant on it like Angela was—the separation would not be challenging. She had already replaced it with tea in her morning routine, and had even settled for hot chocolate on a few occasions, when she was looking for something hot and sweet.

Booth avoided his as well, taking only a quick sip before setting it down. She doubted he'd be picking it up again, as he had winced slightly when Selena wasn't looking.

"I have some pictures here, for you to look through. If you recognize anyone, it would be helpful."

He pulled out the file and laid the pictures side by side in front of her on the table, watching as she tilted her head. She pulled out the chair and slowly seated herself, laying her hand on each image in turn.

"This one... she's familiar," she said, and both of them leaned forward to see which image it was that she had recognized. "Yes, yes, I know who that is," she continued. It was the image of the second woman, Brennan noted as Selena tapped it with conviction.

"Do you have a name you can give us?" Booth queried.

"Tania," Selena answered firmly. "Her name is Tania. She used to come by quite a lot, but not so much anymore. She was pretty regular, though. I didn't know her, just heard him use her name in passing when I'd go by them in the hallway a couple of times." She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "She's married."

Booth raised his eyebrows. "You're sure of this?"

"Oh, yes. She wore the ring and everything while she was here. The dirty whore."

"Any clue what her last name might be?"

"None at all. But she used a car service; they used to drop her off here out front. Bet they know her name."

Booth nodded, meeting Brennan's eyes. This looked like a promising lead, for certain. A married woman involved with the notorious player? Maybe this was a cover-up, in some form, after all.

"Alright, so none of the other women look familiar to you?"

She gave them another cursory glance, but then shook her head. "Nope."

"Thank you for your help," Booth said, standing up.

The woman pouted almost comically. "Leaving so soon?"

Brennan stood up quickly, "We have work to do," she said curtly, and then turned swiftly and led the way to the door.

Booth closed the door behind him when they were out in the hallway. She stood with her arms crossed, and the moment he took a step away from the door she spun again and started leading the way towards the elevator.

"Bones, wait up," he said, and she heard his heavy footfalls for a moment before he came even with her, a hand resting cautiously on her shoulder. She wanted to shake it off, but she didn't. It was warm and reassuring, and all she really wanted to do was lean into his side. But she couldn't. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said at once, color rising into her cheeks. She had no answer for him; nothing she said would be adequate, and she could hardly tell the truth. She was overreacted and behaving childishly, and she didn't even have any sort of claim to begin with. She didn't even deserve to have any sort of claim.

At least, that was easier than telling herself she did, and that he just wasn't interested. Self-blame was always her easiest escape route, and now she clung to it with a vengeance.

He frowned, clearly able to tell she was lying—as always—but he chose not to address it. Once again, she felt a wave of anger wash through her. She should be glad he wasn't pressing, but all she could feel was the fury that came with knowing he was choosing her over himself. Why couldn't he just do things for himself for once, instead of always stepping back and letting her lead? He was acting... he was acting like he was to blame.

And suddenly, several pieces fell into place.

She had never been so sure as she was now—Booth felt guilty about all of this. That was why he was so eager to please her, so eager to let her take charge in this situation. That was why he wanted her to have the control, because he felt bad. He felt like he'd done something wrong, even though she was the one who had initiated their encounter that night. Even though she was the one that was at fault for causing the pregnancy.

But of course, chivalrous Booth was taking it upon himself to be at fault. If she questioned him on it, she didn't doubt that he'd give some sexist reasoning—that he was the guy and therefore it was his fault for the sex, for the pregnancy, for all of it.

Of course she was an obligation. Why had she ever bothered to think differently? Why had she bothered to hope for a different truth?

He was Booth, behaving exactly as she would expect him to behave. He had gotten her pregnant, and now he was going to stand by, give her all the control, and blame himself.

She hated him for it, and yet couldn't stop loving him the way she had before.

It was confusing, and it threw all of her emotions in her face at once.

She was silent as she got in the elevator, and Booth was as well.

It was a long ride down.

~BxBxBxBxBxB~

It didn't take Angela long at all to get the name they were looking for. She went through the security images and found the car company, and then it was just a phone call away for Booth. The car company was surprisingly cooperative, telling him exactly what he needed to know.

"Tania Henson," he informed the group as he snapped his cell shut.

"That was quick," Cam commented with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, the company is paid with Mr. Henson's money. They're loyal to him. Not the wife. And they seem to be very familiar with all their clients, too. They knew exactly who I was talking about."

Cam nodded, and Angela bid them all farewell before cutting the feed and disappearing from the monitor on the platform, after she had promised that she would be by for a visit on Thursday.

"You got an address?" Brennan questioned, to which Booth responded with a nod.

Since returning to the lab, she had evaluated a few things, and decided that the case was priority, regardless of how she was feeling. She was going to work it like any case in the past, and that meant being partners with Booth. It didn't mean she had to discuss her feelings, and for once Booth's self-sacrificing nature worked for her. It appeared he wasn't going to say anything.

Now, though, she was the one that desperately wanted to speak. To demand him to be honest with her, no matter the consequences.

She held it in, and forced a smile. "We should get going, then."

"Yep," he agreed easily, returning the smile even though there was a tightness around his eyes that didn't belong there.

They talked, on the car ride to the other side of town, focusing on the details of the case. Booth mentioned that there was still a chance that their killer wasn't one of Kaminski's lovers, and Brennan posited the scenario that the killer might not have even been caught on the camera. They might have dropped down from a balcony or up from a tree by the window. Booth argued that it was unrealistic and their killer wasn't some sort of high-tech ninja assassin. She informed him that those terms were unrealistic.

In many ways, it was normal. But in others, it was forced.

They both acknowledged it silently, but neither of them challenged it.

The veil between them shimmered. They smiled, laughed. Ignored the ripple.

The house they pulled up in front of at last was huge. Brennan would have been awed, if she hadn't seen the mansion where Angela and Hodgins resided. This was large, and gorgeous, but it had nothing on the extravagantly rich entomologist's abode.

Booth, though, gave it an appraising look with his eyebrows raised as he stepped around his side of the SUV to join her on the way up the path.

She wondered what it would be like, living in a place like this. And then she decided it didn't matter, because she could have bought a place like this years ago. She had chose not to, and it still didn't appeal to her. It would only amplify the loneliness of her life. She could see it, clearly—her wandering around through the halls with her hands in her pockets, staring up at the high ceilings as her heels clapped on each step across the marble. Like some bad scene in the middle of a romance movie, minus the tear-jerking music.

She grimaced at the thought, and Booth glanced at her. He didn't speak, didn't ask any questions, and the flame inside her flared up again. She set her jaw, and stayed back as he went up the stairs and hit the doorbell.

It was a woman who answered the door, and although there was a great difference between seeing the grainy security video and seeing the woman in person, the resemblance was immediately obvious. Yes, this was her.

She wore too much jewelry and her skin was a deep bronze, the sort of color that everyone knew was unnaturally and earned from the tanning salon. Brennan saw it as an invitation for skin cancer, and she pursed her lips as Booth showed his credentials and turned back to acknowledge her and introduce her as his partner. She nodded curtly in recognition and stepped up two stairs to come more level with the other woman.

Tania looked at both of them, sizing them up more than anything else, and then leaned outwards and to the side, peering around them towards the mansion across the street. She seemed to hesitate, and then sighed in an impatient huff.

"Come in. Quickly. And take off your shoes... I just had the floors cleaned."

They acquiesced without complaint, although Brennan stiffened as they moved across the threshold.

She was at once reminded of the other reason she didn't like the idea of living in a big house. One of her decidedly less unpleasant—but scarring nonetheless—experiences in foster care had looked very much like this from the start. The big house, the opportunities she had been promised would be afforded to her.

The realization that she was a charity case, that she was there to be shown off to the neighbors like the newest dog breed... "Oh, this is our foster daughter... oh yes, we saved her from that terrible system. She's quite something, isn't she?" And then, in a whisper that she could still hear: "She's a bit difficult, but oh, we do the best we can. Anything to give back to the community. What have you done for the community lately, Judy? Hm?"

She ground her teeth, but smiled politely when they were ushered into a sitting room off the main hallway. The sweet little chairs and fancy couches, all stiff-backed and uncomfortable, all adorned with tasseled pillows and blankets that guests knew better than to touch. It was the sort of place that involved holding your breath and sitting very still and hoping that your host wouldn't offer you something to drink that might stain in some horrible china that was so valuable you didn't want to touch it.

No, this was nothing like Hodgins' place at all. There, everything was warm. The furniture was comfortable and the decorations were bright and vibrant. It felt cozy, despite the astonishing exterior.

This wasn't a home. This was a museum.

The woman gestured for them to sit on the couch, and they settled into their respective cushions uncomfortably. Booth flinched as he leaned back into the cushions, his shoulders pulling forward and his hands resting oddly on his lap, like he didn't dare put his fingers on the arm rest. She didn't feel much better herself.

Tania dropped into the largest chair with a tight little huff, crossing her ankles and looking at Booth earnestly. She seemed to have decided that he was the lead here, and he was the one she was going to have to deal with.

"Ms. Henson, you know why we're here, don't you?" he asked.

"This is about poor Nathan," she said, blinking slowly. Her eyelashes were long and thick with mascara. She looked bored, but with a bit more focus it was clear she was uncomfortable. She glanced towards the clock every now and then as the conversation went on.

"So you heard the news, then?"

"It was sort of hard to miss," she responded dismissively. She didn't look the slightest bit broken up about the death of 'poor Nathan.'

"Could you describe your relationship with Mr. Kaminski?" Booth prodded.

She gave a long-suffering sigh. "I doubt it will do much good, but I still ask that you keep this information to yourselves."

"We'll do our best. But it all depends on where the investigation leads us. If you aren't involved in his death... then we have no reason to reveal your... indiscretions."

Her lip quirked up at the word, and she almost laughed. "I see you've done your homework. Although, I assumed you would have, to be here in the first place. I do wish I could be sure the neighbors don't suspect why there's a government vehicle out front, though."

"It's unmarked," Booth started, clearly ready to remind her of his original question. But she went off of that before he could continue with his intention.

"As if that matters," she responded with a scoff, reaching forward to pat his knee in an arrogant sort of way. Brennan found she liked it less than the way the cat lady had looked him up and down. There was a sort of devilishness to this woman, like she didn't care what she did. She was out for herself, and the path she took didn't quite matter so long as the destination worked out in the end.

Brennan wanted to interject, to lean forward and demand an answer to Booth's question, but the woman had leaned back again with another wispy sigh, and now she spoke with a response at last.

"Nathan and I met at an art show a year ago. He was writing a piece, and I was enjoying the free drinks and showing off my husband to the other women. They were all jealous, of course."

"Of course," Booth answered. If the woman was bright enough, she'd have noted the slight trace of sarcasm in his tone. But that was only for Brennan to see, and she smiled slightly, letting the emotion show for just a moment before she masked it again. Tania might not be interested in her, but she couldn't risk being glanced at now, and side-lining the conversation.

"He was charming. He included me in his story, and asked for my address so he could send me a copy of the paper when it came out. Naturally, I agreed."

"And he came to see you?"

"No, he sent me the paper with a note inside. Said he wanted to see me again. You probably know how it is," she added, her attention switching to Brennan at last. Her cool gaze looked her up and down before she nodded decisively. Brennan felt color wash faintly up into her cheeks, her anger rising like a thermostat. This woman... there was something about her that went beyond the house that Brennan hated and the words that Brennan couldn't stand. There was something in her being. "You get so tired of being with the same man all the time..." she was continuing, oblivious to Brennan's inner thought process. "It's just so exciting to have a change. And mind you, I was married to Howard for five years at that point. I needed something to liven my life up, even if he is still a handsome young man. The spark... it just starts to dwindle at some point. Nathan... well, Nathan made me feel younger every time I saw him. Always at his place, of course. Never here." Her eyes went back to Booth as she finished.

He opened his mouth to speak, but now Brennan broke her silence. She felt useless sitting here, having not yet said a single word in the interview. It wasn't like her, and she felt... lost. Like she had changed, like she wasn't herself anymore. Like she was letting the pregnancy and her emotions take over, and ruin who she had been before.

She was Dr. Temperance Brennan, and she did not back down. She did not let things like this happen to her.

It was about time she started showing it.

"You were aware he was seeing other women?"

"Oh, of course," she tittered, as if any other idea were foolish.

"And that never bothered you?"

"Why would it? He was... very good. And I only saw him once a month or so. It was enjoyable recreation. Not any sort of love affair."

"Just an affair," Brennan noted, raising an eyebrow.

Tania's eyes narrowed. "Clearly, you, my dear, have never been married." Her gaze switched over to Booth, and her expression changed. "Oh. But not far off, I suppose. My apologies."

Brennan wanted to injure her, and that thought was what jarred her from the very idea. She took in several careful breaths, feeling the way each of her muscles relaxed. Was this the hormones, or was it too early for that? Maybe the mood swings were just escaping because she'd let so much pile up in front of her.

Either way, she stayed silent as Booth finished with the questioning, barely hearing anything else that transpired. She almost didn't notice what was happening until she was climbing back into the SUV with no recollection of leaving the house at all.

She blinked a few times, and then pulled on her seatbelt and turned her head to the window as they pulled back out onto the street and turned around in one of the neighbors' driveways.

"Everything okay, Bones?"

"What? Oh. Yes, I'm fine."

He made a sound that showed he didn't quite believe her, and then focused on the road.

"Where are we going?" she asked, after about five minutes had passed and she had realized they weren't anywhere near either the lab or her apartment. It was getting late.

He smiled, but it was a sad look for him. His eyes softened.

"Tania told us that Kaminski was working a story in some of the local clubs. She gave me the names of the three he was fixated on. It seems she was the least common of his 'girlfriends' and he told her a lot of things he left out with the others. Probably because she didn't care about his other affairs. It let him be honest."

"What was he writing about?" Brennan questioned. He already knew she hadn't been paying attention on the interview, so there was no need to further the illusion. She might as well get the answers she needed, and get them upfront.

"That... I still don't know. But hopefully we'll find some answers here." He pulled the vehicle into a parking lot, and lights flashed overhead, the neon sign changing colors repeatedly.

"Dominion," Brennan read, quirking an eyebrow.

"Nice name, right?" Booth responded. She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. "Bones..." he hesitated, and she swallowed. "Maybe we should... talk about the baby?" he suggested quietly.

She ran her tongue over her lips. "Not now," she said at last. When really, she wanted to say something completely different. She held it in, though, and watched as he nodded in defeat, climbing out of the SUV. She followed him, watching as he put on his sunglasses and shed his tie, unbuttoning the front of his shirt.

Glancing down at herself self-consciously, she hesitated only a moment before undoing a few of her own buttons and running her hands through her hair to fix it up a little.

She wished he wouldn't let it go. Wished he would pull her back towards the car and demand that they talk. She wished she could see the old Booth, the one who would never have let her get away with a response like that. Who would have insisted that she talk to him, and not let it drop until he was sure that she was really fine with whatever it was that was happening.

Now, he didn't do any of those things. He kept trying to let her lead, let her have her way.

And he didn't seem to notice that increasingly, she was giving him the lead in every other way, especially on this case. Just praying he'd pick up on the one place she really needed him to be.

She couldn't keep doing this on her own.

The anger was dying inside of her, the flame sputtering.

Pretty soon, she was going to be lost in the dark, and she couldn't quite decide which fate was worse.

~BxBxBxBxBxB~

They kept a low profile when they stepped inside the second club, much as they had in the first. Dominion had been a failure, with the bartender shaking his head to each of the pictures that they showed him. Booth had gotten a vibe, and had decided to keep it calm and simple. They would avoid interacting with customers or the club owner. She suspected he thought they'd be coming back at some point, but he didn't explain why, or exactly what it was he was looking for outside of an ID on their pictures.

Their second stop, Club Glow, wasn't looking any better, to start with. But when Booth slid a picture of Kaminski across to the bartender, the man twisted his expression and then asked them if they wanted anything to drink. Booth laughed shortly, shaking his head and tossing a few bills on the bar. He accepted the beer he was offered, only taking a few sips because they were on duty, but Brennan asked for just a Sprite on the rocks.

He tapped the picture with a raised eyebrow, and now the bartender answered him, as he swiped the cash off the bar top.

"That's Nate. Regular customer here. He goes home with a pretty woman every time he's in here. Stays quite some time, doesn't drink too much… but he's lucky. Got a way with the ladies."

"Do you recognize any of these women?" he laid out the other pictures as the bartender turned away and served another customer. He leaned back over to look, and narrowed his eyes.

"That one there… she's familiar. I think he went home with her a few nights ago. Last time I saw him, matter of fact. What did she do?"

Booth collected the pictures. It was their other unidentified woman, meaning that the only one they couldn't account for as being one of his dalliances was the unknown in the hoodie.

"Thanks," Booth said shortly, not answering the question. "Any idea where I can find her? Her name on a tab, by any chance?"

"Nope. Can't help you."

He and Brennan stepped away from the bar. "I don't think he's going to give us anything else," Booth muttered. She nodded her head in agreement.

"Should we try the next bar?"

"Yeah." They headed out, and once the chilly night air washed across their faces, his expression changed. "Bones… we do need to talk."

She swallowed. Finally. He was going against what she had said. He was doing what he wanted, and he was trying to get answers rather than letting her have the lead—which he didn't realize she didn't want to begin with.

"Tonight," she said cautiously. "When we… when we're done with work."

He nodded definitively. "Alright, Bones."

The third club was called Blue Fish. The music blared out into the parking lot, and the lights glimmered brilliantly overhead, shining down like spotlights across the line gathered outside, in front of the bouncer.

They crossed the parking lot together, and Brennan chewed on her lip before she looped her arm through his. They were going to talk tonight, and she was going to find out the truth. She was going to ask the hard questions, finally, and there was no way she could avoid it. No matter how much she wanted to. He didn't react, just let her lean into his side. But he did turn his head, and she wished she could see the look on his face from her angle. She wished she could tell if he was smiling, or if it was something else entirely.

They didn't wait long before the bouncer nodded them in, thanks mostly to Booth's smooth attitude and the way he seemed to fit in despite the age difference between them and the twenty year olds that were falling all over themselves, giggling and stumbling in their high heels. Inside, the club was thrumming and dark, and they weaved through the dance floor and around the tables and reached the bar.

Booth was watching something down the small hallway that was blocked off by the counter, but then he turned his attention to the bartender and she released his arm to sit on the stool to his right.

This time, she refused a drink, and Booth did as well. He showed the pictures, and got a hit on the same one as last time. After Booth slipped him a twenty, he pointed her out. Booth raised his eyes to Brennan, and they both stepped away from the bar and headed across the club. She was a waitress, wearing a skimpy outfit with a lot of dangling sequins. She smiled, the gold glitter around her eyes flickering in the lighting as she served tall glasses of something fruity to a group of college girls.

"Oh," she said sharply, when she turned and found them standing in front of her. "Sorry," she said, reaching out a thin finger to trace across Booth's upper chest. She moved to step around them, but he blocked her path.

"Do you know this man?" he asked, holding out the photo of Kaminski.

She opened her mouth and then shut it again, cutting her eyes both ways.

"What is this?" she demanded lowly.

"Nothing," Brennan assured. "Just a few… friendly questions."

She laughed. "Yeah. Cops," she added pointedly, looking back and forth between them, and side-stepping to get around in order to head back towards the bar. Booth cut her off, and she scowled. "What do you want?"

"Just some answers," Booth said with a shrug. "What's your name?" When she didn't say anything, he turned and nodded in the direction of the bartender. "You want me to ask him? Because I bet he'd tell me."

"Fine, fine. My name is Taylor." At Booth's insistent look she sighed heavily. "Taylor Madison."

"And you work here regularly?"

"Yes."

"But you met him," he held up the picture, "At Club Glow?"

"I go there sometimes on my nights off. So what?"

"You went home with him," Brennan said, stepping forward.

She shrugged. "He was charming. We had a good time. What's this about?"

"He's dead," Booth informed her, crossing his arms.

"Dead?" Taylor gaped, turning her gaze to Brennan as if for confirmation.

She nodded, tilting her head and watching Taylor's reaction to the news.

"Wow," the woman muttered. "Wow…"

"How well did you know him?" Brennan enquired.

"I just met him, that one time. When did… when did he die?"

"The night you were with him," Booth informed her.

"The night… that night? What, he died after I left? That's… crazy. Who are you people?"

"FBI," Booth told her.

"Whoa, wait, like… the government? Did he… was he murdered or something?"

"As a matter of fact," Brennan answered, leaving it hanging and raising an eyebrow. She made her point. Taylor sat down heavily on the nearest chair, putting down the serving tray she'd been holding and resting her head into the side of her hand.

"Oh my God… do you know what happened?"

"Well, first off. Why did you leave that night?" Booth questioned.

Now, though, she twisted her lips up into almost a smile. "I don't generally stick around, if you know what I mean. And he didn't want company overnight. Besides, I have a second job I had to get to in the morning. Well… more like my first job. This… this is the second job." The look, though, faded from her face, and she shook her head again. "I can't believe this, though. I mean, it's not like I was going to see him again. But to find this out… it's crazy, is what it is."

"I understand," Booth said, his voice taking on a more gentle tone.

"Was the balcony door open or closed when you left?" Brennan asked forcefully, cutting in on the conversation.

Booth shot her a look as Taylor stammered.

"Open… I think. I-I'm not sure."

Brennan nodded thoughtfully.

Booth passed her his card. "If you think of anything else you'd like to share," he said, and she nodded as she accepted it, glancing at it for a moment before she tucked it into her bra. She looked relieved that they were leaving, and Brennan wondered why for a moment.

But then they turned to leave, and suddenly the reality of what was coming next washed over Brennan like a tidal wave. She took a sharp breath in, almost involuntarily, and Booth turned to look at her with obvious concern. But she just shook her head to ward off his concern, offering a placating smile to make him forget about it.

The fear, though, clung to her as they got back into the SUV and set a course for Booth's apartment. He wasn't going to let her avoid him, clearly. Now, though, she found that that was what comforted her. He was taking charge. Making decisions for her, rather than consulting her to make sure she was okay with the decision.

It was a relief.

They talked about the case as he drove, and he mentioned, more to himself than to her, that he had a feeling he knew what Kaminski was writing about. When she didn't ask—her focus mostly internal rather than on their conversation—he didn't explain any further. He seemed to be lost in thought for the rest of the trip as well, and she couldn't be sure if he was thinking about the case, or about the impending conversation they would be forcing themselves into.

Wordlessly, she stepped out once they had pulled into his usual parking space. The walked up together, as if this were any other night and they were going to go grab a beer from his fridge and discuss the case until late at night, eating Thai food and going over the possibilities.

That would probably never happen again. At least, it would never be quite the same if it did. And tonight was no exception.

He almost offered her a beer, but then stopped short and let her look through his stock to find something she wanted. She opted for water at last, and he nodded, hesitating before he grabbed himself one as well.

And that was all it took.

"Just have a beer, Booth."

"What?" she knew he was surprised more by her sharp tone than my her words, so she repeated herself, just as forcefully. He blinked a few times, his brows slowly drawing together in confusion.

She groaned in frustration.

"I want you to stop it, okay? Just... stop doing this. I don't care that I can't drink anymore. You shouldn't care either."

"Bones, I don't want—"

"Of course," she said heavily, crossing her arms. "Of course you don't want. To what, Booth? To make me feel bad? To make me jealous? I. Don't. Care."

He stammered for a moment, and she felt the anger rush out of her, leaving her nearly weightless. That almost made it worse. She collapsed onto the edge of the couch, suddenly feeling dizzy, and closed her eyes.

"Bones?"

"Don't ask," she muttered.

"Don't ask... what?" he questioned cautiously. She heard him move closer, but he stayed in the kitchen rather than crossing the threshold to join her in his sitting area.

"If I'm okay. Don't ask me if I'm okay."

He gave an incredulous laugh, as if the idea was ridiculous. It probably was, given that she was presenting plenty of reasons for him to doubt her well-being at the moment. But she just couldn't hear him ask it. She couldn't deal with it.

And then she had her answer, and she raised her head and met his gaze piercingly.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, a seriousness and wonder in her tone. How had she not asked him that? How had she not spoken those words yet? The idea was absurd, and yet she couldn't remember saying them before this moment.

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, finally moving into the room. She saw, with a mix of relief and annoyance, that he had brought both his water and a bottle of beer. Like he was torn between what she wanted from him. He sat at the other end of the couch, and she twisted herself to face him, watching as he studied her back. They were both at a disadvantage here. She didn't know what he wanted or what she wanted, and he clearly didn't know anymore than she did.

She wasn't sure where that left them.

"I... yeah. I'm fine, Bones."

She knew he was lying, and she laughed a short, humorless laugh, slumping back into the cushions behind her and shaking her head.

"Bones?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip. "I want you to stop lying," she whispered, her voice nearly breaking on the last word. She felt like she was going to disintegrate any second. Like she couldn't hold herself in reality for another moment. She was just going to... vanish like smoke.

The trembling, though, kept her grounded.

"Lying? Bones, I'm not—"

"Shut up." Her words caught him off guard as much as they shocked her. There was a fierceness in them, but a tiredness, too. "Just shut up."

He clamped his mouth shut, and she knew he was trying to think of a response. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him, still chewing on her lip.

She regretted her harshness, but was relieved that she had gotten it out. Like it had been growing inside of her for the past few days. It was out. She was addressing this. She was getting it all into the air between them, no matter the consequences. She knew that should terrify her, but right now... she just wanted to keep going. Keep releasing that weight that was dragging her down into the floor.

"You keep doing things for me, and you think you're doing something good... but you didn't even ask me. I don't want you to give things up for me. I don't want to be alone in this."

"But you aren't. I'm here, I'm going to be there for the baby—"

She wanted to scream at him again, tell him to shut the fuck up, but she just dove onwards, overriding him.

"I don't want that! I don't want that at all!" She was on her feet, pacing. "You're ready to throw so much away, ready to just give it all up, ready to just... take whatever I throw at you, when this is all my fault."

"It's not—"

"It is! It is, Booth!" she shouted, laughing again and wondering if she was losing it. Her eyes prickled with tears, and she couldn't even tell if they were from anger of something else entirely. "I'm the one that caused all of this. I'm the one that got into bed with you. It wasn't the other way around!"

He was on his feet now, too, and he grabbed her arms and held her in place, meeting her eyes seriously.

"Bones, I want to be here. I really, really want to be here, with you, with our baby..."

She wrenched herself loose from his grasp, fighting the tightening in her throat.

The baby. It was always about the baby. She wanted him. She wanted Booth. She didn't want... her baby's father. She didn't want just that. She wanted all of him. Every last bit. And the more he fixated on the child, the more the ache inside of her burned, threatening to consume her.

Angela's psychic had been wrong. No one was dazzled by her, least of all him. He couldn't love her ever again. She'd thrown that out the window, and this was what she was left with.

The prickling transformed, and the first tear rolled down her cheek. Booth was still staring at her, stunned, his arms reaching out—frozen where she'd pulled away from his touch. He didn't seem able to speak.

In her head, she could hear a continuous reel of his past words, focusing in on the moment, two years ago, when he had told her he needed to be a part of the child's life, if he was going to donate for her.

The child's life.

She was going to be a mother. She was supposed to love the child growing inside of her. She was supposed to be planning a life and loving all the shopping and the parties and the general enthusiasm that this time seemed to bring. But instead, all she could feel was pain. She hadn't even given herself time to think about the baby who would be in her life all-too-soon. The thought was too painful, too difficult to consider when everything that was happening now was already overwhelming. It was only going to get worse.

And right now, she couldn't think of anything but how much she hated herself for being so jealous of the affection Booth had for this person he hadn't met... when he had shown hardly any of it towards her.

She still didn't deserve it.

She still didn't deserve him.

But he deserved this child, and she didn't know what to do.

Because suddenly, she never wanted to see him again. It would be so much easier, if she could just avoid him forever. If she didn't have to look into those beautiful dark eyes and see all the tenderness in the world. All the tenderness that didn't belong to her, but to someone else. If she didn't have to listen to his voice day in and day out, and wonder at how strong he was, how he moved with such skill in the field and spoke with such confidence in the office. How he knew just what to say, even when it wasn't meant the way she wanted it to be meant.

The weight was getting heavier, not lighter.

She wanted to collapse; find a corner and just wrap herself up in it, away from everything.

Away from him.

"Bones?"

The word grated at her. Her beloved nickname, like a poison to her ears.

She ground her teeth together, hating him, hating herself.

And then she went for the door, spinning as he moved to follow her. "Don't," she said, a desperation filling in the gaps in the venom her voice was spitting at him.

He stopped short, his mouth open, confusion written all over his face. It only incensed her further, and she grabbed the door handle with more force, slamming it forcefully behind her and running down the stairs as she swiped at her face.

This had been a bad idea. She never should have said anything at all. She should have just... left things as they were.

Knowing was worse than being in the dark. A thousand times worse.

She hailed a cab out front, feeling his gaze on her and trembling under its force. But then she was in the cab, and this time... this time she didn't look back through the rearview window as she was driven away.

You don't want to know how difficult it was to write that. Phew. Alright, I'd love to hear from each and every one of you about your opinions on it, but I know that won't happen. So I'll just ask, as always, for you to hit that button. Because I'm desperate to hear how it went.

For those of you who need reassurance because you aren't angst-junkies like me... this story is different from many of my others. Booth and Brennan will not be discovering their feelings and getting together in the very last chapter. Not even the second to last. More like... the middle of the story. So, hold out and wait for it, because it's coming... soon. I promise.