Thank you for all of the great feedback on this story so far! It truly makes me want to keep plugging away at my story. I've been feeling poorly the last couple of days, and your reviews have kept me determined to keep writing. So thank you.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 6

Brennan gazed out the window of the SUV as Booth made the short drive to the Hoover. Her mind seemed temporarily incapable of thinking about anything other than the Cranes' opinion of their son's girlfriend. It never seemed to matter how much Brennan tried to blot out the memories of her time in the system; they never left her. At times, those memories were clearer than the happier ones from her childhood before her parents left, and that irritated her. Why couldn't she be hazy on the painful details and have clarity with the happy ones? It seemed unfair.

Booth glanced repeatedly at Brennan and kept seeing her vulnerable expression reflected back at him in her window. He knew the interview with the Cranes had upset her, and he found himself wishing he'd done it without her whether it had taken place in her lab or not. He tried to make conversation so that she wouldn't recede behind her walls.

"Kelly Morris's foster mother says Kelly took off a couple weeks ago with most of her belongings," he told her cautiously.

"Okay," she sighed, continuing to stare out the window, not looking at him.

"You okay, Bones?"

"Did people always assume the worst of me back then?" The question was rhetorical of course; Booth couldn't possible know the answer one way or another.

"You know… I know you hate psychology, but those people… they just lost their son. They need to blame someone. Try not to take it personally, okay?"

"I understand that what you're describing is the typical psychological response to the loss of a loved one. It's human nature," she replied softly. He reached over to take her hand and was encouraged that she entwined her fingers through his. She looked at him then, and the defeat in her eyes made his heart clench. The rush of concern must've shown in his face, because her next words were, "I'm okay, Booth. Don't worry. I can compartmentalize."

That's what I'm afraid of, Booth thought with a sigh.

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Booth regarded Suzanne Staunton speculatively as she sat on the other side of his desk talking about her foster daughter. The woman had brought a box of the girl's possessions and photographs, and she seemed to be genuinely worried that her foster daughter was missing. The news that the girl's boyfriend had turned up dead had taken her by surprise and deepened her concern for Kelly. She explained that Kelly and her brother Alex were both under her care.

"Poor Dylan," she lamented. "He was a good kid. He was a good influence on Kelly, trying to get her back into school. And he was good to Alex. Treated him just like a little brother…"

"To the best of your knowledge, were Kelly and Dylan sexually active?" Brennan asked. Booth was unsure why his partner had chosen that particular question but listened with interest to the woman's answer.

"Oh, I know they were. I'm afraid I caught them in Kelly's bedroom, and I had to forbid Kelly to bring Dylan into the house after that."

"Why?" Booth asked in confusion. Banned from the bedroom, sure, but the whole house? Teenagers had sex all the time, he thought. But it was Brennan who answered his question.

"It's the rules. They're underage and Kelly's a ward of the state."

"And I knew that it might force Dylan and Kelly to find other places to be together. You know, feed into their own Romeo and Juliet fantasy. But Alex lives in the house too, and he's only twelve."

Booth digested the information thoughtfully before moving on, wondering what other 'rules' he didn't know about.

"Kelly and her brother, are they close?"

"Very close. Their parents were killed in a hotel fire four years ago. They had no family and were put into the foster system. I've had them for a little over a year," Suzanne replied. Brennan's face registered surprise.

"That's a pretty good run for a foster kid. Especially a brother and a sister who want to be together." She recalled briefly that she never lasted longer than five months in any of her foster homes.

"Yes," Suzanne agreed, looking a little uncomfortable.

"What?" Booth asked curiously.

"Well, I'm not certain how much longer I can keep both of them. I have diabetes, and I don't have the energy that I used to. And Kelly is a real handful… I've asked Child Services to look for alternatives," she answered regretfully.

"Did Kelly know?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, I told her."

A blonde-haired boy appeared in the doorway of Booth's office, wearing clothes that looked a few sizes too big for his small frame. Brennan recognized the image immediately. Sometimes, no matter how nice the family was, being a foster child left one looking thoroughly second-hand in just about every imaginable way. Everything was handed down, including oneself.

"Did they find Kelly or not?" the boy asked nervously.

"No, Alex. But they found Dylan," his foster mother replied morosely.

"Is he alright?"

"I'm...I'm afraid not," Booth answered him gently.

Suzanne crossed the room to hug Alex and told him that Dylan was dead. Brennan asked the boy if he knew where his sister was, but he shook his head in the negative. He claimed that she hadn't called him and asked if she could be dead as well. The boy's eyes clouded with tears and the sight gave Booth a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"No," Booth replied solemnly. "I'm gonna find your sister, and I'm gonna bring her back here to you."

"Really?" Alex asked hopefully.

"Absolutely. This is the FBI, buddy."

Brennan watched Alex smile, looking reassured, and she recognized the gentle, paternal tone Booth usually used with Parker. After Suzanne and Alex left, the partners returned to the lab. Brennan replayed the interview in her mind, not speaking until they'd reached her office.

"Were you lying to that boy?" she asked him. "Do you really think Kelly Morris is alive?"

"Ah, I don't know…" Booth answered sadly.

"You don't know if she's alive?"

"I don't know if I was lying. See, I just… I really don't have a read on the sister yet. I mean, was she a bad guy? Was she a victim?"

"Well, do you have a 'read' on Dylan Crane?"

"Oh yeah," Booth smirked a little. "He had that whole adolescent savior complex thing going big time."

"Savior complex?" she replied with a quirk of her brow.

"Yeah, teenage boys love nothing more than the idea of saving the damsel in distress."

"How do you know?" She was smiling now, and Booth couldn't resist smiling back.

"Well, 'cause I was, you know… I was a teenage boy."

"With a savior complex," she added.

"Yeah," he confirmed, his eyes sparkling at her.

"Some things don't change." He didn't deny it but merely allowed his eyes to sweep over her lovingly.

Their gazes held for several long moments, conveying much more than spoken words ever could, and flirtatious smiles played around both their mouths. The sound of a throat clearing drew their attention to the open doorway. Cam wasn't sure what she was interrupting, but the atmosphere in the room was tense and intimate.

She informed the partners that the DNA from the tissue under the victim's fingernails had turned out to be female, and there was nail polish in the gouges on his arm. Brennan replied that it wasn't necessarily from the murder considering that the victim and his girlfriend were sexually active and could have scratched one another.

"Nope," Cam argued. "Hodgins also found oxidized iron in the scratches."

"Oxidized iron. What's that?" Booth asked. Couldn't they ever just speak plainly?

"Rust," both women answered in unison.

"Why didn't you just say rust?" Both women ignored him and Cam kept talking.

"The same oxidized iron found on the victim's upper back and shoulder."

"Probably left behind by the weapon that struck him," Brennan surmised.

"So, he was hit with what? A rusty pipe?" Booth asked. Brennan threw him a look that reminded him how much she disliked conjecture. Cam didn't seem to share her sentiment.

"That's a reasonable assumption."

"Oh, so Dylan tells the girlfriend they're breaking up-"

"She whacks him across the carotid with a pipe-"

"And pushes him out the window."

"Exactly," Cam agreed. Booth glanced back at Brennan only to find her gazing back at both of them, looking annoyed and incredulous.

"It's just a theory, Bones," he placated.

"There was cheap nail polish in the box of Kelly's belongings. You should see if there's a match," Brennan said placidly.

"Find some hair," Cam instructed instead. "Match the DNA on that, then get started on the, uh, murder weapon."

Brennan huffed and rose from her chair, passing both of them quickly and crossing to the door. Her shoulders were set with determination, and her jaw was clenched.

"Where are you going?" Booth asked, concerned at her irritation. Brennan rounded on them with a sarcastic expression.

"I thought that before we arrest Kelly Morris for murder, based solely on the fact that she's a foster kid, we might want to find the place where Dylan Crane actually died. Point of fact, the pipe-if that's even what it was-was not the murder weapon. The evidence, if anyone cares, shows that Dylan Crane died from a fall."

Brennan whipped back around and walked quickly toward the platform, leaving a bewildered Cam and a chagrined Booth in her wake.

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Booth had decided to go back to his office to give Brennan a little space. He would try to talk to her about things later when they had some privacy. Brennan spent some time on the platform with Zack, analyzing the bones, and they determined that the victim had most likely been rendered unconscious before he'd fallen through a window.

Brennan had to chastise Zack not to jump to conclusions about the rusty object being a pipe, and although he looked appropriately abashed, he recited the forensic evidence which actually did suggest a cylindrical object that had left traces of iron oxide. Brennan encouraged him to give her that kind of information rather than guesswork.

Hodgins interrupted to report on the organic evidence they'd found clutched in Dylan's hand. It had been a particular type of rosebud widely thought to be the rose to which Shakespeare had referred in Romeo and Juliet. Hodgins also happily informed her that much of the garbage he'd been sifting through had come from a Russian restaurant, and he suggested that Booth check the garbage route for one. Brennan thanked him and left the platform to inform Booth.

When she reached her office, she picked up the phone to call him but put the receiver down just as quickly. He would want to talk about how upset she'd been earlier, and she didn't want to discuss it at work. She pulled her cell from her pocket to text him instead.

:Hodgins says the victim was most likely picked up near a Russian restaurant. Check the garbage route.

Booth replied less than a minute later.

:Ok, thanks. Think you'll be ready to go home by 6?

Brennan sighed. Not really, she thought, but she texted her approval of the time anyway. His response buzzed back quickly.

:Great. Love you.

:Love you too.

Brennan slipped her phone back into the pocket of her lab coat and returned to the platform, hoping to find some more answers before he arrived to take her home.

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Booth cooked for them that night, making one of her favorite meals in hopes of cheering her up a little. Brennan set the table and pulled two beers out of the refrigerator before sitting down to their meal. She still looked a little tense, and Booth plucked up the courage to say what had been on his mind all afternoon.

"Bones… I'm sorry if it seemed like I was taking Cam's side earlier. I'm not assuming that Kelly's guilty. I just like to run all of the options through my mind, you know that. And this is one of those options. But just because Cam quotes some statistics at me doesn't mean I'm going to trust her judgment over yours."

Brennan sighed and nodded, feeling a little guilty that she had misread the situation.

"I understand. I'm sorry too, I… misread things I guess. This case is difficult even without Cam jumping to conclusions based on bias."

Booth gazed at her empathetically. He wanted to try to explain that Cam was thinking like a cop first and a scientist second, but he knew doing so would only make it sound like he was defending her. He also knew that Brennan would staunchly disagree with Cam's priorities.

"I just hate that Cam seems so determined to believe that Kelly is a murderer. Just like she refused to consider another suspect for Carlie Richardson's death right up until the evidence proved that Kyle hadn't done it. Except now, it's like she's automatically going after Kelly just because she's in the system…"

Booth nodded, saying nothing to contradict her. Now wasn't the time to argue semantics. She took his silence for acceptance and continued. "I know what it's like for everyone to believe you're a bad kid, to believe you're a liar, just because you don't have parents like everyone else. When bad things happened to me, no one believed me because I was in the system…

"It's why I was abused or neglected in five different foster homes, and only two of the parents were ever held accountable. Two other families were verbally and emotionally abusive, and I didn't even bother to report them because I knew no one would believe me anyway."

Booth cringed at her desolate expression and took her hand in his. He wanted nothing more than to make her pain go away. To go change the past so that she'd never been hurt that way.

"I hate to think of you in those situations," he admitted. "It almost hurts me physically just to imagine it." She gave him a sad but appreciative little smile and stared at their joined hands. "Now, if you feel like telling me their names…" he suggested coyly, only half kidding.

Brennan laughed and smiled for real then. It wasn't the first time he'd asked, but her answer hadn't changed. She would never let her past be the reason his list got longer.

"No. I'm not that damsel in distress you like to picture yourself saving, Booth." But even as she said the words, she remembered him finding her in that basement, bound and beaten. Booth saw the memory flash in her eyes and freed his hand to tilt her chin upward, forcing her to look at him.

"You're strong, Bones. I know that. That's what makes you who you are. Not your past or whatever anyone might have said or thought about you back then. Your strength is one of the things I love most about you, baby."

Brennan's eyes glistened at his sincerity, and pursed her lips in a tremulous smile.

"I love you too, Booth."

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Their search for the Russian restaurant took them to a very rough neighborhood, and Booth encouraged Brennan to walk slightly in front of him, his eyes sweeping cautiously in all directions. His hand never left her back. They spoke briefly to a handful of street kids who didn't give them any useful information, and as they continued down the sidewalk, Booth spotted a middle-aged woman standing to the side of an old van. The door was open, and she appeared to be slipping drugs to teenagers who had formed a line on the pavement.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me, huh? I mean geez, they could at least wait until my back is turned, right?"

"What?" Brennan asked in confusion. She hadn't seen anything, but Booth was drawing his gun.

"FBI. Hands in the air."

The few kids who'd been waiting near the van sprinted off in the opposite direction, and the woman put her hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. A man climbed out from the back of the van with his hands up as well.

"There's no problem here! No problem at all!" He looked back toward the teenagers who were still running and tried to stop them, but no one slowed their pace.

Booth held his gun on the couple until Brennan had taken a look at what they were 'dealing' and found it to be food and personal care products rather than drugs. As he holstered his gun, the woman admonished him that he had just ruined any trust they'd been able to build with the street kids.

After Booth apologized for the misunderstanding, Brennan flashed a photograph of Dylan and Kelly. The couple, Fran and Kevin Duncan, recognized the teens immediately and were surprised to hear of Dylan's death. They led the partners to an abandoned warehouse that was known to house squatters and junkies. Kevin told them it had once been a plumbing supply company.

Brennan threw Booth a meaningful look and reminded him of the rusty pipe that had been used to assault their victim. On the sidewalk outside of the warehouse, the other street kids had put up a sort of memorial to Dylan, complete with pictures, flowers, letters, and a copy of Romeo and Juliet.

The partners agreed that the techs should do a sweep for evidence, and a half-second later, they heard the sound of glass shattering. As they looked in the direction of the sound, a teenage boy ran past them at top speed. Booth shouted at him to stop and told Brennan that the kid was wearing Dylan's school jacket.

Both partners took off after the boy, but Brennan had been standing closer to begin with, and she had the lead. Damn, she's fast, Booth thought as he watched her close in on the teen. She pushed him lightly, causing him to stumble and fall to the pavement, and Booth was relieved that the kid didn't seem to have a weapon on him. Booth was at her side a moment later, hauling the boy up from the sidewalk and escorting him into the warehouse.

"You can't ask me nothing without a social worker," the boy sneered. "I know my rights."

"I'm not questioning you," Booth denied. "We're just...we're talking, okay? Here, want some gum?" He extended his arm toward the boy, examining his face curiously. The kid was in need of a haircut, a shower, and a good-sized meal. His expression was wary and overly aggressive, as though he was expecting the call to fight or flee at any moment.

"Yeah. Like that's gonna make me trust you." The kid hesitated but took a piece of gum anyway.

"You know, I'm just asking your name," Booth said evenly.

"C."

"Does that stand for anything?" Brennan asked.

"Carter. I'm not saying if that's my first or my last name," he replied stubbornly.

"Why'd you run?" Booth inquired.

"Because this lady was chasing me!"

"Because you ran," Brennan reasoned.

"Yeah, it's a brain twister," Carter said sarcastically.

"You know that sweatshirt you're wearing belongs to a kid by the name of Dylan Crane," Booth told him.

"Never heard of him," Carter lied.

"Where did you get it?" Brennan pressed. Rather than answer the question, the boy took off the sweatshirt and handed it to her. Beneath the garment, he'd been wearing a black wifebeater with a pair of sunglasses hooked onto the neckline.

"I'm done with the hoodie. You guys can have it."

As his forearms were revealed, so was a short list of names written in blank ink on his left arm. Warren, Weiss, Harvey, Monro.

"What's with the, uh… names on the inside of your forearm there?" Booth asked. "What does that mean?"

"Guys I killed," Carter replied with a straight face. Brennan paused in the act of checking the sweatshirt for obvious evidence traces and corrected the lie.

"It's a list of foster homes. Ones that threw him out." Both her partner and the teen looked at her in surprise, and Carter couldn't resist the urge to set her straight.

"Sometimes getting thrown out is-"

"The best thing that can happen. I know," she assured him with a commiserating smile. The kid studied her, intrigued.

"You were in the system?"

She nodded, and a look of camaraderie passed between the two. It was then that she recognized the sunglasses on the boy's shirt and pointed out to Booth that they were the same ones Dylan had been wearing in the photograph. Booth plucked them from Carter's shirt, and the kid made no move to stop him. Instead, he asked if he was free to go.

"No. Child Services is on the way," Booth replied.

"I tell you something, you let me go?"

"Try me."

"You want to know what happened to Dylan and Kelly? Check out the sandwich pervs."

Booth nodded and thanked him. Carter stood and began to move toward the open door, but Brennan stopped him and stepped close enough to discreetly slip him a couple of twenties.

"It'll be getting cold soon. Get yourself a coat," she advised. Carter nodded and gave her a half smile before disappearing through the doorway.

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"Charlie's checking on the Duncans for us; I told him we'd head that way," Booth informed her once they were back in the SUV. The forensic team was still checking the warehouse for evidence, and hopefully once Brennan got back to the lab later, she and the squints would have something new to analyze.

"How much did you give that kid?" he asked curiously.

"Just a couple of twenties. I have more on me, but a street kid can't carry that kind of money on him without risking a mugging," Brennan replied simply. Booth had heard her suggest to Carter that he find himself a coat before the cold season began, and his heart swelled with affection at her generosity.

A short while later, Booth had the Duncans' file in his hands and gave Brennan the highlights as they walked into his office.

"Fran Duncan's clean. Great record in the community. But Kevin Duncan? The kid got it right. I mean, he's a perv. Inside three times on 'solicitation of a minor' charges."

"Boys or girls?"

"Girls. He's a traditionalist."

"So he went after Kelly…" Brennan sighed, presuming that was the reason Carter had referred to them.

"Yeah, and the white knight from the suburbs steps in, gets conked with a pipe and tossed out the window…"

"And Kelly goes into hiding," Brennan finished. The scenario seemed more plausible to her than the one Booth and Cam had been positing the day before.

"Unless he got to her too," Booth qualified. "So what do you want to do next?" Brennan raised her brows with a quizzical smirk.

"Hmm. That's up to Cam, isn't it?"

"No, Bones. I asked you. What do you want to do?" he replied, mirroring her expression.

"I think… I think we shouldn't close off any avenue of investigation. We stay on all of the evidence and see where it leads us. Like we did before Cam."

"Okay." Their gazes held, and Brennan saw something shift in his eyes. They had become suddenly darker, troubled. It was the way he looked when he thought of her being threatened.

"What?"

"Did… Do you have a list like Carter?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of foster families that didn't work out? Yeah, we all did. I wrote mine on the bottom of a shoe. It was… longer than Carter's, obviously." She still remembered gazing at the sole of her second-hand tennis shoe each time she had to add another name. That list was burned into her mind, likely for the rest of her life.

Anderson, Carsen, Hammel, Campbell, Roberts, Lewis, Collins, Taylor, Edwards.

Booth watched her focus drift backward through time, and he felt compelled to pull her back to the present.

"It was good that you could level with him," he commended her. "Hopefully when we finally track down Kelly, it will work again." Brennan nodded, still looking a little distant as she reached into Booth's candy jar and retrieved two pieces, tossing one in his direction. He caught it easily before continuing. "You know, kids like that… they kind of carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, you know? Metaphorically speaking," he clarified before she could ask. "They can be hard on themselves, carry a lot of mistaken guilt, grow up with control issues…"

Brennan studied him with an amused, albeit slightly skeptical, expression. He wasn't fooling anyone. She circled around his desk to wrap her arms around his waist, looking up at him. Booth returned the embrace immediately.

"Are we still talking about Carter and Kelly? Or are you trying to tell me something?"

Booth gave a tiny smile of approval at her insight and nodded slightly.

"Both, I guess. Just… something to keep in consideration when we catch up with Kelly Morris."

"Okay…" Brennan wasn't entirely sure she understood his choice of metaphor, but the comments on guilt and control issues were clear enough.

She sighed and wondered what Kelly Morris was feeling guilty about.

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Booth dropped her back at the lab to get started on the evidence that was coming in from the warehouse, and when he returned to the Hoover, one of his agents had picked up Kevin Duncan for questioning. The man claimed that he had no direct contact with any of the kids; he only made the sandwiches and allowed his wife to interact with those they helped. Duncan claimed to feel true remorse for his actions and described his efforts to help homeless teens as a sort of penance.

Unfortunately for Duncan, the Bureau had done some digging and had come up with a handful of girls who had claimed Duncan had traded food for sexual favors. He insisted that the girls, as well as Kelly, had come on to him, wanting money, and had been angry when he rejected them.

Progress at the lab was slow. Though Hodgins had positively identified the exact window through from which the victim had fallen, there were hundreds of pipes and different rust samples to process. Angela relayed the news about the window and Hodgins' continued search for the specific rusty pipe when she tracked down Brennan and Cam in the autopsy room.

"Hairbrush from Kelly's room provided her DNA. The nail polish from her room also matches the nail polish we found in the scratch marks on the victim's arm," Cam told them.

"It doesn't mean she pushed him out that window," Brennan insisted.

"If Hodgins finds the pipe, and it matches the rust found in the scratch marks, then we can tie Kelly to the weapon," Angela added, missing her friend's troubled expression.

Cam launched into a recollection of young love, which Brennan assumed was meant to encourage a bond with Angela, and to her dismay, it seemed to be working. Brennan couldn't identify with anything they were saying. She hadn't had a boyfriend as a teenager because it had been against the rules, and she'd been too awkward and determined to hide her home life anyway. She did recall having had a crush on someone before her parents had left, however, and she'd argued with her mother about the boy on the very day they'd disappeared. That conversation had haunted her for years, and when she had finally been intimate with someone, it had been an older man. Brennan listened to them reminisce for another moment before interrupting. They looked disappointed at the change of subject.

"I'd like Hodgins to identify the species of rose found in Dylan Crane's hand," she said, following the instinct to pay special attention to the anomalies in the case. Doing so had served her well in the past.

"What can that possibly tell us?" Cam asked dubiously.

"I won't know until he identifies it." Cam seemed to consider it for a fraction of a second before responding.

"I prefer he keeps looking for the pipe. It could have Kevin Duncan's DNA on it."

"Which will prove only that Kevin Duncan struck Dylan, not that he killed him. I want Hodgins on that rose," Brennan insisted.

"It's my call. No." Cam's expression was mild, but her tone was firm. She and Brennan squared off in a brief staring contest before Brennan shook her head with a scoff.

"I can't work like this."

"Are you telling me telling me I should start looking for your replacement?" she asked, her tone still oddly pleasant. Angela had watched the exchange nervously, and she interrupted them, all traces of her former humor now gone from her face.

"Dr. Saroyan, I don't want to be overly dramatic or anything, but… if you lose Brennan, you lose us all." Cam's eyes shifted back and forth from Angela to Brennan.

"Really?"

"Really. And Booth too," Angela confirmed. The artist had a general liking for her new boss, but there was no way in hell she was letting Cam fire Brennan. Cam nodded and appeared to be biting the inside of her cheek before she answered.

"In the interest of this investigation, I'm going to defer to you, Dr. Brennan," she conceded, avoiding Brennan's gaze.

Both Angela and Brennan thanked her and moved to leave the room.

"But I will start the search for your replacement," she added almost happily, loudly enough for both women to hear. They paused at her words but continued out the door.

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Brennan secluded herself in her office and locked the door behind her, closing the blinds for good measure. She paced anxiously, fidgeting with her fingers and trying to consider her options. There had been a time when Camille Saroyan's thinly veiled threat might have made her laugh, a time when a situation like this might have prompted Brennan's resignation from her position simply to deprive Cam of the pleasure of firing her. But that time had long since passed. It had passed the moment Booth had made her realize the value of their partnership.

Even if she and Booth hadn't gotten involved romantically, Brennan didn't think she would be any less determined find a peaceable solution to this problem. She knew she had to figure this out, but unbidden into her mind came images of her office, as empty as the day she'd first set foot in it; of Zack, having to leave his position because he was her grad student; of Booth, going into the field with some nameless, faceless scientist who wouldn't be skilled enough to have his back.

Brennan cringed away from that last image in particular and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She didn't want to interrupt Booth if he was doing something important, so she texted him instead.

:Are you busy?

Her phone rang in her hand not ten seconds later, startling her almost comically.

"Hey," she answered timidly, foregoing her usual greeting at the sight of his name on the caller ID.

"What's wrong?" he asked, hearing an emotion in her voice he couldn't yet identify.

"Cam and I are…"

"Butting heads?"

"What? No, of course not," she said, sounding disturbed.

"I mean metaphorically, Bones. You're disagreeing? Arguing?"

"Oh," her expression cleared. "Yes. I really don't know how I can work like this."

Booth could hear the anxious tension in her voice, accompanied by something else that sounded not unlike defeat. He hated it. His phone beeped in his ear, signaling another call, and he glanced at the screen. Cam. Of course. He sent the call to voicemail after two rings.

"Look, Bones. I knew this was going to be rough when you first mentioned that she would be your boss. You've gotta hang in there, okay? We can talk more about this at home, but for right now, just try to take a breath and focus on the case. We'll figure this out."

Brennan closed her eyes and nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her, and she took the deep breath he recommended. Booth heard it and knew she had taken his words literally, and that made him smile. He also knew that this was more than a disagreement with Cam; Brennan's anxiety was compounded by their current case.

A short figure appeared in his peripheral, hovering in his office doorway, and Booth looked up in surprise to see Alex Morris.

"Hey, Bones, I need to go. I have one more short meeting, and then I'll head that way to pick you up, okay? Keep a level head. I'll be there soon."

"Okay. See you."

"Bye. Love you."

"I love you too."

Booth closed his phone and motioned Alex into the room, rising from his chair to meet the boy halfway. He invited him to have a seat in one of the guest chairs and leaned against the front of his desk.

"You want a coke or anything?" Booth offered.

"No. You a big shot?" he asked innocently. Booth grinned.

"Uh, yeah," he said, pointing to the nameplate on his desk. "Look at that, huh? Special Agent in Charge, Seeley Booth." Alex laughed at his boasting. "So, how'd you get here?"

"Bus… Kelly called me. On the phone."

"What'd she say?"

"That she's okay. And that we'd be together. Soon."

"Did she say where she was?" Booth pressed. Alex shook his head no. "Did she know about Dylan? About him being dead?"

"Yeah. She couldn't stop crying about it. She had to hang up… I think she's lying. I think she's never coming back." Alex sobbed and abruptly stood up to hug Booth. Booth returned the hug automatically, and he patted the child's back soothingly.

"Hey, it's okay Alex, alright? Everything's gonna be okay."

"I think I'm all alone now," he cried.

Booth's heart contracted, and he couldn't help but draw the obvious parallel to Brennan. Had she been vulnerable like this when Russ had left her alone in the world? He inhaled deeply and summoned the words he wished he could've said to her all those years ago.

"No. Hey, look… You're never gonna be alone, okay? We know for certain that Kelly is alive, and I promise we're gonna find your sister. Okay?" Alex nodded, drying his tears. "Alright, let's get out of here. I'll give you a ride home."

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Booth had checked his voicemail on the way back to the lab after dropping Alex off at his foster home. Cam had left a message telling him to get to the lab as soon as possible, and she'd sounded irate. He had a fairly good idea what that was about, and as he drove, he contemplated the best course of action.

"I got your call," he told her, stopping by her office on the way to Brennan's.

"It was urgent. Why didn't you answer?"

"I was busy. What's so important?"

Cam stepped aside to reveal the body of Kevin Duncan on the exam table behind her. Booth's expression grew even more disconcerted.

"Kevin Duncan," he announced unnecessarily.

"Single gunshot wound to the chest. You're just in time for the autopsy."

Zack was standing nearby as if to assist her, and he groaned aloud, looking revolted. Cam asked if he was feeling queasy, and he replied that he wasn't accustomed to remains looking so much like actual human beings. Booth silently agreed with him; he far preferred Brennan's skeletal remains to Cam's fleshy counterparts.

Cam quickly removed a rib with a bullet lodged inside it and handed it to Zack, dismissing him. Booth's eyes followed him enviously, wanting nothing more than to leave the room and check on his girlfriend, but Cam didn't seem to be finished talking.

"Booth… If Dr. Brennan were to quit-"

"What?" Booth was alarmed, trying to remember if Brennan had said anything like that on the phone.

"If she were to leave the Jeffersonian…"

"Well, the squints would flee this institution like the French Army."

"And you?" She gave him a sidelong glance, wondering if Angela had been accurate in her assessment. "What if I fired her? What would you do?"

"I'm with Bones, Cam. All the way. Don't doubt it for a second. And that would be true even if we weren't in a relationship. I vouched for her long before that, and she's had my back every day since."

At that precise moment, Hodgins interrupted to give a quick report about the rose that had been clutched in Dylan's hand. It was a special breed that most likely came from the rose wing of the United States Botanical Garden. Booth thanked him and said they'd make a trip there the following morning to check it out. The entomologist sauntered out of the room, and Booth turned back to Cam.

She still appeared to be surprised by Booth's declaration. The Seeley Booth she'd known for so many years would never have considered quitting his job for anyone. And yet, that was effectually what he had just threatened to do. The change in him stunned her.

Booth weighed his next words carefully, hoping he wasn't overstepping a boundary.

"Look, Cam… Maybe you just got off on the wrong foot with this case with Bones because… she was a foster kid," he said hesitantly. Cam closed her eyes and sighed ruefully.

"Oh. Why didn't she tell me?"

"She doesn't do that. Look, I didn't tell you that, okay? You guys gotta work this out."

Cam nodded and didn't stop him when he left her office. She turned her attention back to her autopsy and resolved to talk Brennan around to an understanding once this case was closed.

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"Hey, Bones," Booth said gently, finding her at her desk. "It's getting late, and it looks like Hodgins and I are taking a field trip to the Botanical Garden tomorrow morning. You ready to go home?"

She gazed back at him with tired eyes and nodded, rising from her chair and crossing the room until she was close enough for him to fold her tenderly into his arms. Her arms went around him as well, and for a few moments, they merely stood, holding each other and swaying slightly. When she pulled back, she had a weary smile for him, and he returned it, leaning down to kiss her softly.

Brennan's arms moved of their own accord, pulling away from his waist and gliding over his shoulders instead, clinging to his broad frame as the kiss deepened. He tightened his hold on her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She gasped a little in surprise but welcomed the intrusion, feeling grateful that the blinds and door were closed.

The kiss continued until they were both breathless, and they broke apart, chests heaving and eyes dark with need.

"Let's go home," he suggested. As much as he wanted her right now, he knew that it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught when things were already so tense between Brennan and Cam. "I'll cook tonight," he offered.

"No," she said softly, pressing kisses to his neck and loosening his tie a little. Booth looked at her in confusion. "I mean… Let's go home, yes. But let's pick up something on the way. I don't think I'll have the patience to wait for something to cook once we get home."

He grinned at her and nodded his acceptance of her plan, helping her gather her things and placing a hand to her back as they left the lab. Brennan was still upset about her earlier conversation with Cam, but at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be distracted by her ridiculously handsome partner.

They made their way to the SUV and climbed in to head home, their fingers intertwined the entire way.

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This chapter was getting too long, but never fear, the next one will get to the smut pretty quickly, and then I think there are steamy bits in the next two after that as well.

Let me know your thoughts. :)