A couple days later, Brennan's lying on her side in bed, her hands pillowing her cheek. She's snuggled in the sheets as she continues to hover in a state somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

Booth shifts on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling, his arms bent behind his head. He cuts a glance at his sleeping partner and sighs, his eyes returning to the ceiling.

She feels the mattress dip with his movement, which ultimately slingshots her back to reality. She opens her eyes slowly and rubs her face, groaning as she rolls onto her back. She brushes her hair away and stretches, pointing her toes and arching her back. She flips onto her side again, this time facing her partner. She swallows and fights back a yawn. Her eyes meet his then and she can clearly see the sadness lurking behind his normally warm, brown eyes.

Their intense gazes hold for a few minutes until he finally looks away, returning to the ceiling, counting every imperfection he can see.

She scoots closer to him, but just before she can put her arm around his waist, he slips off the mattress.

"I'm gonna go make breakfast. I'm feeling pancakes today."

She sits up and watches him put on a pair of sweatpants and his bathrobe.

"Pancakes?"

"Booth."

"Do you want pancakes or not?"

"Booth, I—."

He turns away from her and heads over to the door. He stops and looks at her over his shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it right now, okay, Bones? Just let it go."

"Did you call Jared?"

"He didn't answer."

After a few beats of silence, she scrunches the edge of the sheet in her hands and looks up at him. "I'm here."

He nods. "I know."

"Booth?"

"Bones, I don't want to—."

She sits up in bed and cuts him off before he can finish. "Since you are taking requests, I would like miniature pancakes for breakfast."

He lets out a breath and cracks a smile. "Silver dollars, it is." His shoulders slump as he heads out of the room and down the hallway.

Booth's standing at the stove while Parker and Christine sit at the island when Brennan walks into the kitchen with Henry cradled in her arms. She sets the baby in the swing and for a minute or two, just stands there and watches him smile at, stare at, and reach up at the dangling colorful fish that hang in front of him. She turns and walks over to the island. She kisses Christine on the cheek and pats Parker on the back of his shoulder, instead of giving him a kiss, knowing how embarrassed he gets. "Good morning."

"Morning, Bones," Parker mutters with a spoon in his mouth.

"Good morning, mommy." Christine shifts on her knees and goes back to fine-tuning her penmanship.

Brennan walks around the island and slides up beside Booth, bumping her hip with his. She rests her hand on his shoulder and rubs down his back. "Would you like me to take over?"

Booth shakes his head. "No," he answers quickly and succinctly, his voice a bit monotone.

Brennan sighs. "If you change your mind, I'll be right over there." She motions to the island and heads to one of the empty stools, sitting beside Parker.

Parker turns his head and looks at Brennan, confusion evident in his brown eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Brennan looks at her partner and then back at her stepson. She simply nods, not wanting to lie but not wanting to upset Booth any further by voicing what is really going on. Plus, she has no idea how to go about bringing this particular subject up and even the thought of telling Parker and Christine that Hank is gone makes her stomach twist and makes her feel a slight pang in her chest. She sighs and picks up the folded newspaper near the fruit bowl.

Christine moves on to the plain printer paper and begins drawing a picture. "I'm gonna draw a picture for Popsicle. Ya think we can give it to him the next time we go visit, daddy?"

Booth cringes, the hand holding the spatula beginning to tremble. His breathing becomes shallow and he closes his eyes.

"Daddy, did you hear me?"

Brennan looks at Booth and sighs, her chest tightening as she sees his shoulders slump even more.

Parker looks between his stepmom and his dad before ultimately focusing on Brennan. He blinks and swallows hard. "Pops, he, didn't he?" He manages to say, his voice a little quiet and a lot shaky.

Brennan nods and rests her hand on his.

Parker swallows again and twists his body towards his sister, his eyes filling with a thin layer of tears, though he's trying desperately to hide them. He clears his throat and nudges her.

Christine looks at him and furrows her brow. "I don't think daddy's listening to me, Parky."

"Teeny—."

Christine shrugs and turns back to her dad. "Daddy, it's rude not to answer people." She pauses. "When are we gonna go see Popsicle again so I can give him my picture? He loves my drawings. He puts them up all over his room."

Parker pulls the piece of paper out from under his sister's colored pencil and slides it towards him, away from her.

Christine grunts. "Hey! That's mine! Give it back. I'm drawing a picture for Popsicle. You better give it back right now, Parky." She looks at Brennan. "Mommy, tell him to give it back, tell him it's not nice to steal stuffs."

Parker brushes his fingertips against his cheeks, catching the tears as they fall. "Teeny, listen to me."

Christine looks at him and crosses her arms over her chest. "Not until you give me my picture back. You can see it when it's done. I promise." She's momentarily distracted from her anger by the tears that drip freely down her big brother's cheeks. Not used to seeing her brother cry, she touches his face and sighs. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Parky. I didn't mean to. You stole my picture and I'm mad. Please don't cry. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I still love you."

He rubs his eyes and slips from the stool. He holds out his hand and smiles at his sister. "C'mon, sis. Let's go feed Dragon."

At the mention of her big brother's iguana's name, Christine beams. "Only if you let me hold him."

"Deal."

Christine smiles and takes his hand, slipping off the stool.

The two siblings leave the kitchen and their footsteps eventually disappear.

Brennan stands up and walks over to Booth. She removes his fingers from the spatula and tugs him away from the stove. She reaches between him and the knobs and switches off the burner he's currently using. She automatically wraps her arms around him and rests her head against his shoulder, her body flush with his.

With the kids gone and only the two of them in the kitchen, he loses his resolve, crumpling into her embrace, burying his face in her hair, and clinging to her.

His sobs echo in her ear, which only serves to make her chest hurt even more. Unable to hold back her own tears, she lets them flow freely, soaking his shirt. She can feel him tremble as her arms wrap around him tighter. She shifts her weight and steps closer to him, their breakfast long forgotten.