I fell asleep on the couch while I was reading a book while Angela was sketching at the table, waiting for Brennan to get home from the lab. I didn't know what time she got in, but Angela had left by the time I'd been woken up and the clock said it was nine in the morning. Brennan was already showered and dressed, and she'd turned on the lights to see before waking me up. I appreciated that she hadn't startled me awake in the relative dark.

Angela must have told her that we'd talked, but I doubted that she would have gone into detail about what we talked about. Either way, Brennan didn't ask what Angela and I had done to pass the time but she didn't try to ask me anything either, other than the expected inquiries as to my health. As for me, I had slept better than I'd thought I would. The couch was comfortable, but I attributed it more to the fact that I hadn't been as stressed and frustrated when I fell asleep.

That's not to say I'm not still freaking out about things; but by talking a lot of it out, it was easier to make note of everything that had bothered me the most, and now I could sort through it myself. Finances, which I used to worry about, aren't anything I should let bother me anymore; between being a dependent of Cantilever and the pay I'll get from my internship at the Jeffersonian, I'll be able to pay for my own expenses, especially since I'm pretty sure Booth is going to make me release the claim on the apartment. As far as the abuse goes, I'm no longer in an abusive home, nor do I have a reason to keep secrets about it. Everyone I associate with knows about it.

Really, the only current problems I have are lingering upset at other events and the displacement I feel around Booth and Parker. I can't do anything to help myself fit in with them, but I can still help myself get over the difficulties I had before Kenton kidnapped me.

Brennan drove us to meet Booth in the Washington Monument National Park to meet with a couple of climbing experts that Marni had used her credit card to pay for lessons with. They weren't professional or anything; they were just a couple of guys, but they had climbing licenses and the right equipment, and they offered the classes in newspaper advertisements and online.

The two men we were looking for were saying goodbye to a client who was walking away from a bench in the park where their equipment was resting. The bench was about twenty yards from a big, three-story climbing wall securely in place in an open field, with equipment mounted to the top to allow for climbers to safely scale the wall with bungee cords and ropes.

"Kyle Montrose and Duke Diallel?" Booth called ahead to the two. Both had dark blonde hair and both wore dark grey long-sleeved sweaters. The difference between the jackets was the color and thickness of the blue stripe going horizontally across their chests; The one on the left, who matched the picture of Kyle, had a lighter grey and more vibrant, thinner blue stripe and Duke, on the right, was a darker grey and duller and thicker stripe.

I think they wore the same colors on purpose. They'd be easy for clients to identify, at least.

Duke nodded, throwing a bag of his gear up onto his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Booth held up his FBI badge for authentication. "We're from the FBI. We have credit card receipts showing that you gave Marni Hunter climbing lessons." He pocketed his credentials again and put one hand on the back of the bench.

Kyle smirked at Duke and chuckled. "If anyone could talk the FBI into getting a refund, it's Marni."

"She's dead," Brennan corrected the assumption bluntly, blinking innocently.

"What?" Kyle was totally taken off guard and he looked at Booth, myself, and then Duke, before letting out a deep, shuddering breath. "Oh, my God…"

Duke looked upset, too, but he didn't look about to cry. Gaping slightly in surprise, he looked from Kyle to Booth. "What happened?"

Booth looked down for a moment in respect before looking back up at meeting Duke's eyes. "She was found in a ventilation shaft beneath the city."

"Did she fall?" Kyle asked urgently, his eyes darkened and watery. His shoulders were slumped forwards, his lip trembling in a pout.

Duke spoke again before Booth could either confirm or deny it. "We told her not to go down there," he said earnestly, wringing his hands in front of him unhappily. "It's way too dangerous."

"Marni's dead," Kyle murmured. "That's… God." Stuck on the same point, Kyle raised a hand to cover his face.

"We… gave her some climbing lessons and rappelling," Duke admitted slowly, hesitant to say it. It was as though he felt guilty for enabling Marni to try climbing down into the tunnels, which, I suppose, is an understandable reaction. "But definitely not enough for her to go spelunking on her own," he established quickly thereafter.

I opened my mouth to speak for the first time. I was okay with letting them talk - I just wanted to take a step back from the cases for a little while, mostly because getting so involved in the past ones hadn't exactly done the best for my mentality - but if I kept quiet I'd probably end up concerning the two adults. "Did either of you ever go into the underground system with Marni?"

Duke shook his head immediately, speaking for himself and his stricken friend. "No, no way!" He paused and gestured behind him to the massive rock wall and offered a shaky smile. "I mean, the whole point of rock climbing is to head for the sky, right?"

"She ever ask you to?" Booth took a single step backwards but I didn't miss the point - he was further from the suspects, yes, but he was also at an angle where he could see Brennan and I with more ease.

"Yes." Kyle nodded quickly, dragging his hand away from his face and then across his forehead, taking several deep breaths to stay calm. Was he involved with her? Duke was upset, but not nearly this much. "Yes, she did. She was doing some sort of documentary, and…" he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. "God, she fell?" He asked again.

Brennan shifted her weight uncomfortably and refused to directly answer the question. "That's what we're investigating."

"You seem particularly upset," I noted to Kyle, eyeing him carefully, skeptically.

"Well, yeah!" Kyle blustered, his voice kind of choked up in grief. "Somebody you know dies, that's…"

Booth cut him off. It wasn't exactly polite but it wasn't especially rude, either, and he did it with a calm, quiet voice to make it a bit more sensitive. "I'm sorry, sir, but I've got to ask. Were you and Marni intimate?"

Kyle swallowed thickly and wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Yeah, we - we had a thing," he said, trying to be clear about the message despite that he was about to break down. "But we broke up. She had a fiancee, and I was always very clear that I didn't want to marry anyone, but… I liked her." Kyle nodded again and looked down to the shadows on the ground. "God, this is terrible."

"Did her fiancé know about you?" Booth asked routinely, back to ignoring Duke for the most part.

"I - I don't know," Kyle shook his head uncertainly, face still screwed up in emotional agony. I couldn't imagine what it felt like for him to lose Marni, someone who he may have loved. I had no proof anything bad happened to the people who took me in, yet I still don't like thinking about why they left. For all I know they're dead or in Vegas, but Kyle has proof someone he cared for is actually deceased. "I can't believe this…"

Well, you'd better start believing, because the funeral's gonna be soon.

It was only as we were walking away from the two climbers that I realized the experiences I'd gained and the relationships I'd formed had changed the way that I interact with people. Before meeting Booth - my father - I'd have likely said that particular thought out loud.

Garfield bit the inside of his cheek before sighing an exhale softly. "Yes, I was aware there was another guy." He confessed lowly, unable to look directly at Booth. He looked to the side of Booth's office, away from the three of us. "Marni was never sneaky." Although I was listening for it, I heard bitterness but no anger.

"Did you know who it was?" Brennan asked, leaning on the side of Booth's desk. I was standing to the side of the room by the shelves. There were books, binders, and even a photograph of Parker smiling widely at whoever was behind the camera.

"No." Well, either Marni kept it to herself or Garfield hadn't even wanted to know. "She told me it was over." Of course she did. If it wasn't, she wouldn't want you to know.

"Romantic triangle," Booth mused aloud from behind his own desk. "It makes for a pretty compelling motive," he hinted none too subtly.

Garfield raised his eyebrows and poked himself in the chest in question. "You mean, for me?" I raised my own eyebrows at the fiancee and Brennan did the same herself, answering his question for him. "I didn't kill Marni," he reasserted.

"She was sleeping with another man," Brennan prodded, reminding him unnecessarily. He winced just barely in response.

"And, seeing as that is one of the oldest excuses for violence, I'm curious why you refrained from telling us that you have a very clear motive." I pointed out with a one-shouldered shrug, tossing my head to the side to flip my hair out of my eyes.

A soft tapping made me glance down. Garfield was knocking his leg from side to side in an anxious tell, embarrassed and nervous for things that maybe he didn't want to come into the light. I looked back up to Booth and flickered my eyes back down to Garfield's leg. Booth straightened up just a bit to look over the desk and see but then looked up to me again to show he understood what I was trying to tell him.

It was nice to be able to have that simple, nonverbal communication work just as well as it had before the entire disaster almost a month ago. It was like a remnant of a simpler time - as corny as that sounded, it was familiar and it felt safe. It might have been stupid of me, but I think some part of me is clinging to the belief that so long as there are some things that remained the same, then things didn't have to change before I had a handle on them.

There are a lot of things I hadn't really known about myself before I met Booth or any of the people I met through him - I'd been missing a lot about myself and my own identity. I like to think that my identity and self-image is compromised by things I've had figured out already; the things like my decision to be Atheist, my opinions on the people I know, and my choices about how I act and how I define myself.

I know that identity is a lot more than that, but I've chosen to ignore the rest. Everyone wants to know where they come from and where they belong, and who they've been influenced by. Knowing that I've been with my father this whole time is like hanging onto a cliff with my legs dangling over the edge in the sense that I don't know what sentiments are going to hit me when, and I don't know how to react or, in other words, pull myself back onto solid ground.

"Of course it made me angry!" I jumped, squaring my shoulders defensively at the unexpected rise in volume. Garfield glared at Booth - I guess when I was thinking so hard I zoned out. I forced myself to look back to the fiancee and tune into the conversation before I missed anything more important. "And depressed… made me question my manhood, all of that. What do you want from me? I didn't kill Marni!" He looked between Booth and Brennan like he was trying to be challenging, but really he just seemed defensive, not unlike myself. "She always came back to me."

Booth was undeterred by the sudden rise in the man's attitude. "But this wasn't the first time she found someone else," he confirmed evenly.

Garfield took a deep breath and looked down to his lap, biting at his lip discontentedly. "No," he sighed.

I ambushed Booth in the FBI kitchenette. Maybe "ambush" wasn't the right word, seeing as he could run out any time he wanted, but it was a place where it would be harder for him to start a scene that made me want to keep my head down. I just wanted to stay out of anything unnecessary.

"I want you to consent to a paternity test."

I flinched involuntarily as Booth's coffee mug hit the countertop harder than necessary, the clinking louder than it should have been. I shut my eyes, waiting for a potentially awful reaction to the seemingly simple request.

"What?" Booth's tone was flat, so I knew he heard and understood; he was just shocked.

Now that I'd started, maybe it was just the best to push through it before he had a chance to completely process it and organize his feelings. If he didn't get the chance to decide what feelings to address then maybe he would just agree? Probably not gonna happen… still worth a shot. "I already asked Dr. Brennan," I said like he hadn't interrupted. "She said the Jeffersonian can easily have one arranged, and we could get the results in a matter of days."

"No, I mean, I heard you the first time, but why?" Booth turned around, holding the handle of the coffee mug with one hand, and leaned back against the counter in a way that I was learning to interpret as his 'thoughtful' pose - the one he used when he was thinking about things. Blitzing him with the information clearly hadn't had the desired result. "I mean, we got the info from the doctors, and the DNA match is the only reason they put the blood transfusion through. Want any coffee?" He held out the mug in an example of offering.

I lifted my right arm to wave it away, making a tangent note in the conversation to keep it light. "Ugh, no, it's awful here. And you meant a DNA comparison," I corrected for him on second thought. "If you say DNA match you have to specify what kind of match or the percent, otherwise it implies both samples were from one person. And I know that, but at the time I was, you know, bleeding to death." It was always important to remember that time was generally important in a situation like that. "So the tests were hurried and the results could have been screwed up. They weren't testing for paternity and blood isn't the most definitive means, so there's room for error."

By the time I'd gotten my point across, I realized that I hadn't been using the right punctuation and giving myself commas and time to breathe.

"Well, what's the likeliness that the results were fudged?" Is it a good thing or a bad thing that Booth is slow to see the sense in getting our relation double-checked? Maybe it means nothing? He wasn't wound up as tightly as I was, because while I felt as tense as a swing twisted around and around and about to spin, he was relaxed enough to drink coffee while frowning. He made a grimace immediately afterwards. "Man, that's horrible coffee," he coughed.

I raised my eyebrows and nodded slightly, almost too anxious to be amused. "In all fairness, I did warn you." And back to the point… "Admittedly, the possibility is… very slight." How could I expect him to go through the extra hassle if I said myself that the odds of anything changing were so slim? "But there is still a margin."

Booth abandoned his coffee, setting it down on the countertop next to the water heater and abandoning it between the boiler and the sink. "Let me just get this straight. You don't believe that I'm your father?"

Either he was hurt by the assumption or he was irritated I wanted him to do more. Neither had been my goal.

"I believe it," I admitted slowly, feeling a familiar pricking behind my eyes. I was beginning to associate it with emotional pain rather than physical pain. I had to look away from him because I didn't want to try to take on admissions of my own innermost feelings as well as taking in his reactions at the same time. "And… that's the problem." I waited for him to say something but he didn't. I took it as the green light, still staring at my shoes determinedly.

"I need to know that I can trust it, and that the proverbial rug isn't going to be pulled out from under my feet… again… before I can actually decide what I want to do with my life, from this point forwards." It may not have made sense to a lot of people and that was honestly the best way that I could try to express how I was feeling. He'd have to give me a bit of leeway with communication difficulties, seeing as how actually talking about my Feelings - capital 'F' for further emphasis - was pretty new.

Booth dropped his voice in consideration, his expression melting to a mix of frustration and kindness and he tried to understand and sympathize. "Holly, this is startling for me, too." I hadn't said that it wasn't - of course it was. I was shoved into a world of homicide and danger and family and forced trust, and just as quickly, Booth had a teenage daughter with trust and anger management issues dropped on him out of practically nowhere. "But you don't need to worry about where you're gonna live or supporting yourself." I scowled and shook my head quickly. He wasn't getting the point. He thought he understood but he didn't really. "That is a responsibility I would take on, even if this wasn't our situation. You should at least give me the benefit of the doubt."

I raised my good hand up to my head, sliding my fingers through my hair. "No, shut up," I snapped, taking a break from being polite. One thing I know is that if I don't do this now I might not ever be able to work up the nerve to try again. "Damn it, I have a cast on my wrist, my arm's in a sling, and it's actually dangerous to my health for me to wear jeans. I feel more helpless now than I ever have." I tore my eyes up from the linoleum to Booth again, and it was a struggle to keep looking at his face when I wanted to look away or run off. "I spent my whole life so far not trusting anyone enough to have a family, and the first time ever that I've even considered trying, they all just abandoned me. If I'm expected to try it again… I just want to be sure that I'm not going to get any more scars, literal or metaphorical."

That wasn't all, but I needed to breathe before I forgot how.

Booth was concentrating, listening intently. Despite being so fearful of his judgment, he was a people person, and of course he would be able to empathize to some, if not all, of my explanation. He opened his mouth after a moment, but paused before saying anything, and I took advantage of the pause.

"No, still shut up!" Booth's mouth shut again, though he seemed mildly affronted. I brushed past that and clenched my fist repeatedly at my side. "I… never got the chance to learn who I am or who I could have been, because I didn't know you, and I didn't know my mom. Everything I'm feeling right now-" I scoffed, looking around the kitchenette simply for something to focus on. "I barely know what half of it is, and as for the other half, I couldn't resolve it myself if I tried. My life has been thrown upside down since I met you and maybe it's a good thing, but for me to accept these changes that you, and Dr. Brennan, and Angela all seem hell-bent on bringing, I need to know without any room for doubt."

"Okay." Booth held out one hand to me pacifyingly, in calm agreement. He radiated soothing vibes and his voice was low, soft. "Okay," he repeated, pushing himself away from the counter with the other hand. "We'll get a paternity test," he stated aloud. "You know what, you're right. We should have it done so we don't get any more surprises. Okay?" This time, it was like a question, but it was the first of many that I could actually answer. I nodded in relief that he was actually getting it and that the heart-spilling portion of the day was over. I seem to be doing it a lot lately.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe that caught our attention. Booth looked over my shoulder and I stepped closer to the counter, turning so that I could see. Brennan still had her hand raised to knock again.

She looked between Booth and I in question, though despite her curiosity, she didn't ask what we had been talking about, even though she had to have caught the last bit of the conversation. If I was honest with myself, I'd forgotten for a moment where I was, that I was in a place where anyone could overhear. It had just seemed important and it was one of the first times I'd been alone with Booth without really being alone.

Brennan brought down her hand to rest in front of her stomach, interlocking her fingers together. "Harold says that he can take us to the perimeter near where he found the vault seal."

I looked at Booth on the right side of me, back to being the professional pair of co-workers rather than awkward relatives trying to navigate a balanced relationship. It was a fast switch. Although it hadn't left either of us completely, I knew from the past days' experience that we could still function the way we had before… well, just before.

"Are you doing okay?"

I scowled at the all-too-familiar question, that was quickly becoming what I was asked most frequently. I held the flashlight to the side so that I could see the walls of the tunnel and look for something other than Booth's and Overmeyer's shoes as they walked in front of Brennan and I.

"It's my wrist that was sprained, not my ankle," I said quietly, forcing myself to remember to keep a lid on my irritation. Brennan was being nice and considerate. If I weren't so used to independency, it probably wouldn't bother me as much as it did. "I'm fine. I'm not even thinking about the oxycodone."

"Right." Brennan returned, not seeming to notice that it was taking effort to be calm. She raised her voice, changing the way she walked to avoid stepping in a puddle of collected water from some external source. "You know, you don't have to live down here. There are alternatives."

The tunnels aren't the lightest place, but the way everyone walked told me their positions relative to me. The flashlights we each had made it much easier to see where we were going, but the former veterans had decided to walk ahead - Overmeyer because he knew where we were and where we were going, and Booth in case of danger - while Brennan and I walked behind. They told me it was simply strategic, but I'm pretty sure it was so that if we were attacked by someone who found the underground vault, Booth could shoot them before they had a chance to reach me.

Nonetheless, walking in the dark was always a bit disconcerting, so I kept the light somewhat lowered so that I could be sure I wasn't about to hit uneven ground. My heart was beating faster than it should have been just out of nerves, and maybe partially the exercise of walking so far. It's not that I'm not healthy, it's just that for a couple of weeks I literally walked maybe a block or two a day. It's not that I'm not pleased I'm unlikely to rip open the stab wound, it's just that I'm irritated I have to work to build up the abilities that used to seem so simple.

"No, not for me," Overmeyer disagreed. He had kept his flashlight off the entire time. He had complained about the light when he was in the FBI interrogation room, so maybe he was just far too used to the dark to easily adapt to bright lights.

"You're hiding," Brennan pointed out obviously. Although she sounded like she was accusing him, I really don't think that was her intention. "You have to face your demons."

"Living here…" He paused but he didn't stop moving, so I took it there was no threat. Nothing too impressive jumped out at me from the tunnel wall. It just looked… well, like a wall. There was a lot of dirt, but nothing like precious metals, jewels, or ancient scrolls. Or excessive blood from the murder scene, which would be a lot more helpful for the murder investigation than, say, Lincoln's inaugural address draft. "This is the only way I can pay so I won't have to go to Hell for what I've done."

"Look, I'm not going to tell you that you're a saint." That he'd sent me to the hospital another time was enough to keep him off the saints list in my book, let alone in the great moral argument. "But you signed up to serve America, and that's exactly what you did. It's not like you shot people for no reason. You saved lives. I don't think you have to worry about Hell."

"What?" Brennan dropped her voice, trying to be tactful, but there was really only so much true privacy one could have when in echoing tunnels. The quieter she talked, the louder it actually seemed. "But I thought you were Atheist."

"I am," I reasserted. "But I understand the basic principles of religion. Murder's a sin, regardless of whether it's for a justified cause, and he's trying to defend himself from evil retribution. Like you said, it's penance."

Brennan nodded slowly, understanding, and she raised her voice to bring the conversation back to include the men. "Harold, there are programs that help people like you."

"What are people like me?" Overmeyer walked with more sure footsteps, but he was shorter than Booth and his posture was slouched. I winced as he asked; this won't end well.

True to my guess, Brennan answered with her honest opinion. "Mentally ill."

"Dr. Brennan," I said quietly in soft warning.

"Simmer down, Bones, alright?" Booth stopped momentarily to turn around and raise the flashlight to see Brennan. He ended up shining it in her face for a moment, and she raised her hand to shield her eyes until he understood the problem and changed where he was directing it. "You might want to just, you know, sidle up to the issue a little easier." Rolling his eyes, he turned around and started walking faster to compensate for the steps that were now between himself and Overmeyer.

"I like it," Overmeyer told Booth. I was surprised he wasn't offended. Booth relaxed slightly. "Someone's honest, says the truth. You don't lie, I guess."

"No, I don't lie," Brennan agreed softly, heartfelt. "Agent Booth and I would be glad to help you."

Overmeyer stopped with no warning, but I heard him cease walking and I stopped, too, to avoid running into anyone. I raised the flashlight to see down the tunnel, which turned to the right sharply. My flashlight only lit up so far down before even the beam gave way to the shadows.

"This is as far as I go," Overmeyer announced firmly. I stepped away from Brennan, closer up to the front to see if I could see any movement down the tunnel.

"It doesn't have to be that way," Brennan protested.

"No, Bones, he means this is the perimeter," Booth clarified, turning back to her but this time keeping his flashlight aimed towards the ground. "This is as far as he agreed to take us."

At the absence of any threats, I stepped past Booth and Overmeyer, walking just around the turn of the tunnels. There was no sound except for the whisper-soft echoing of dripping water from somewhere ahead. "I can't tell how far it goes," I called back. Although I hadn't yelled, I could hear my own voice echoing the word goes back to me, bouncing off of the walls and roof. I backed up slowly, back in view of the other three.

"Beyond this, it's not safe." Overmeyer might have been curious what was down there, but he didn't move to take a step over the invisible boundary he was at, not even trying to look down the now illuminated path.

"How much farther to where you found the medallion?" Brennan asked. From the sides of the beam created by Booth's flashlight, I could see Brennan walking up by Overmeyer's other side, looking to him for an answer and temporarily abandoning her other arguments.

"You'll see." Overmeyer motioned weakly with one hand, still not crossing that unmarked territory line. "It's down there."

"You stay here, alright?" That was definitely an order, but Booth was facing Overmeyer and he had his voice hushed as though it were a personal favor. "Between one soldier to another? You got my back?" I doubted there was anything down here that Booth would need help fighting off, but I suppose it's more that Overmeyer may be needed to answer questions or show the fastest way out.

Overmeyer nodded once, his face turned from anxious to confident. It was a sharp contrast to the nervousness he had displayed in the FBI building. "I never left my men."

We couldn't have walked very far but it felt like we had been for at least fifteen minutes. Maybe it was just because we were walking slowly out of wariness of the dark and whatever else there might be that made Overmeyer so frightened of going "beyond the perimeter."

We couldn't go any further, either way. At the end of the tunnel, there was an uneven wall where rock and mud and dirt had all slid down in a collapse. I waved my flashlight over the entire length of the tunnel, but saw no gaps or other means of getting through, nor were there any side paths that ventured off in a different direction.

"Dead end," I sighed. "It looked like it must have caved in a long time ago." I turned back around, flashlight lowered to see where I was walking.

Booth let his frustration take over his calm for just long enough to kick at the site of the cave in, sending a small stream of dirt and small rocks loose. I aimed the flashlight by his leg and saw a small cloud of dust rising. "We came all the way down here for nothing."

It occurred to me that Brennan hadn't said anything for a while. I turned quickly, alarmed, but found her standing just a few feet behind us. "Dr. Brennan," I said, more relieved than actually needing to communicate something. She wasn't usually quiet for so long, even though we hadn't had much to talk about while walking.

Brennan didn't even look up when I said her name, instead keeping her flashlight aimed solely at the ground by one of the tunnel walls. Spinning around with only the flashlights for light was disorienting, and if it weren't for standing right next to the cave-in, I probably wouldn't know which way we'd come from. And, considering that I have a pretty good sense of direction, that's saying something. I looked down where her flashlight was and in the process, my flashlight strayed from her and traveled on to the skeleton, half buried in the ground. The cavities of the eyes were caked with mud and the dirt discolored the bones to a grey in some places, a darker brown in others, and the ribcage was half out of the ground in an odd shelter like the hyenas' hideaway in The Lion King.

"Not quite." Brennan said quietly in response to Booth's earlier comment.