Happy Monday! Or maybe...here's a new chapter to improve your Monday?

Thanks as always for all of the reviews and support. :)

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Chapter 9

Booth coaxed his partner out of the lab for lunch, promising to tell her about the talk with Lauren Hathaway's father once they got to Wong Foo's. She protested for a moment that Helen Majors could still be alive and that they needed to continue working, but Booth reminded her sternly that starving herself wasn't going to help Helen Majors and that they might as well eat while they waited for the report he was expecting. She conceded with little grace, and once they were seated at the bar, he filled her in on what information Grant Hathaway had given them.

At the time of Lauren Hathaway's disappearance, her golf coach had been the prime suspect. That man ended up having a credible alibi, but when Angela showed Mr. Hathaway a couple of age regression sketches she'd done of Howard Epps, he recognized one of them immediately as a former greenskeeper at the country club. Epps had made an odd comment to Lauren about her resemblance to a younger version of his own mother, but although Mr. Hathaway had informed the police about it when she'd disappeared, nothing had ever come of the tip.

Brennan listened pensively as Booth spoke, pushing her food around her plate but eating very little. Sid cleared his throat from a few feet away, eyeing her plate in concern, but she ignored him. Booth went on to explain that he had sent Angela to have lunch with Caroline Epps, hoping that she would be able to coax something more substantial out of the woman than Caroline had been willing to share with Booth. Brennan was slightly surprised at this tactic, but she agreed that Angela was indeed very good at getting people to admit things they were reluctant to discuss.

"She's gonna text if she gets something, and the rest of the squints are still working," Booth assured her. He glanced down at her plate sadly, seeing that she'd barely taken more than a few bites, and he knew that she was just as sick with worry for Helen Majors as he. Brennan caught the direction of his gaze and pursed her lips, making a more diligent effort to finish her meal.

After another fifteen minutes or so, Booth's phone buzzed loudly on the smooth surface of the bar, and he picked it up quickly. Angela had elected to call rather than text, and she relayed the information she'd gotten from Caroline. Booth held the phone so that Brennan could hear as well.

Epps' wife had delivered a handwritten message to the mailbox of a man named Henry Gerber, an acquaintance from prison whom her husband referred to as 'The Mad German.' The message had said, 'Don't you miss them?'

Booth ended the call quickly, tossed a few bills on the bar, and ushered Brennan out the door. He called for backup to the home of Henry Gerber, but when they arrived, they were baffled to discover that the man in question was confined to a wheelchair. The partners returned to the lab, feeling even more exasperated.

"There is no way a man in a wheelchair could have killed Sarah Koskoff or swapped hamate bones with Lauren Hathaway," Brennan said irritably as they gathered with Zack and Hodgins to brainstorm.

"Alright, Epps got us again," Booth grumbled, looking over the contents of a case file he held in his hand. "Gerber's paralyzed from the waist down because Epps knifed him just before he got paroled."

"So...what? His message, 'Don't you miss them?' meant what… his legs?" Hodgins asked, disturbed at the sick joke. Zack was sitting near him, contemplating the situation with an expression of begrudging admiration.

"Epps is good. Not morally, of course, but it's a classic feint-and-parry misdirect, delivered via his wife," Zack mused.

"Where are we on Reiner Hatin?" Brennan queried.

"Nowhere," Booth grunted back, beginning to pace back and forth.

"I had some thoughts," Zack spoke up. He explained that perhaps the German clue had rather been a secret language or anagram, and he turned to the computer monitor next to him to pull up a list of possible anagrams for the name 'Reiner Hatin.' Both he and Hodgins rambled off a few, but one in particular caught Booth's eye as he looked at the list over Zack's shoulder.

"'Neither rain.' Neither…" He gave Brennan a significant look and recited, "'Neither rain, nor sleet, nor dead of night…'" Brennan nodded, eyes widening as her brain leapt ahead.

"The postal service motto," she agreed.

"Mail to an empty lot, messages dropped in mail slots," Booth continued.

"Postal workers wear Polygenex gloves," Hodgins added.

"Who received the letters sent to that empty lot?" Brennan asked, eyes still locked on Booth. They turned simultaneously and raced off the platform toward Angela's office.

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With the help of a postal supervisor, Angela was able to track down the route, which included not only the vacant lot but also Caroline Epps' beauty salon and St. Agnes High School. Booth and Brennan stood behind her as the supervisor emailed the name and photo of the mail carrier assigned to that route, and they sucked in a collective gasp of surprise when the picture popped up.

It was Gil Lappin, the very same man whose dog had absconded with the skeletal arm of Lauren Hathaway just days before.

Gil Lappin's home turned out to be occupied only by his dog, but the partners were unnerved and disgusted to see that the man had covered an entire room with photographs of young blonde women. Among them were Lauren Hathaway, Sarah Koskoff, and Helen Majors.

Night was falling as they drove back toward the lab, but Booth was too impatient to wait until they arrived before trying to get something else out of the squints. Time was running out for Helen Majors, and he knew that they were so very close to finding her. His pulse quickened as Brennan dialed Hodgins and tried to walk him back through the evidence to figure out what they'd missed. She pressed him for information that would tell them where Sarah Koskoff had been held before she died, before her body was placed in the gypsum mine.

After a few moments, however, Booth lost his patience and flat out demanded that Hodgins give them his best guess. Brennan shook her head at him and placed a calming hand on his shoulder as he drove, but Booth continued to berate the entomologist until Angela stepped in and told him to be quiet. The partners listened as she soothed Hodgins and helped him to focus through his panic at the thought that giving the wrong answer at that moment could mean the death of a young girl. Booth watched the road robotically, jaw and fists clenched tightly, and Brennan watched him, listening to her friends work through the clues.

"Anthrax," Hodgins announced. "After the anthrax attacks in 2001, the post office shut down several sorting centers." Booth encouraged him to continue, and Hodgins explained that certain chemicals had been used to clean the sorting centers, and both chemicals had been found on Sarah Koskoff. He went on to say that not all of the sorting centers had reopened, so it was likely that Helen Majors was being held at one that was still abandoned.

Booth thanked and praised him profusely and used his own cell to have an agent track down the precise location. Brennan thanked Hodgins as well as Angela before she ended the call, and she tried to slow her own pulse as Howard Epps' taunting echoed in her mind, 'I think you'll find that Helen Majors has less than twenty-four hours to live.'

What if they were already too late?

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The sorting center had all of the hallmarks of an abandoned and derelict building. Its high ceilings gave the place a cavernous atmosphere, but the space was littered with large mail sorting machines in various states of disrepair. Booth had called for backup, but there was no way he was going to sit and wait for them.

Brennan followed Booth through the maze of machinery, lighting their way with a flashlight, and she was surprised but grateful when he pulled his extra gun from his ankle strap and handed it to her.

"Here," he said quietly, thrusting the small pistol in her direction.

"I didn't even have to ask," she remarked. If she hadn't been so focused on finding the missing girl, she'd have taken the opportunity to tease him. Booth rolled his eyes a little as if sensing the words she didn't say.

"Yeah, well, just be careful, alright? Don't shoot me; don't shoot Helen Majors. Otherwise-" he fell silent as the sound of chains rattling reached them. Booth glanced back to meet her wide blue eyes, and they crept forward together, following the sound until they spotted a woman suspended in the air by chains around her ankles and wrists. Her blonde hair cascaded toward the floor, and she rotated on the chain slightly, pleading for help through panicked sobs.

Booth's eyes darted in every direction as they cleared the last entryway standing between them and Helen Majors. He holstered his gun and rushed toward her while Brennan operated the chain to lower the girl to the ground, the pistol still gripped firmly in her hand.

"Please… please help me," Helen whimpered. They partners worked together to lower the girl to the ground.

"Alright, okay…" Booth tried to soothe her distractedly, his eyes still moving furtively in all directions for a glimpse of Gil Lappin. "Take it easy, I've got you, alright? Where is he?" The frightened girl was hyperventilating as she answered.

"He just left. I don't know where he went." She continued to gasp for air as Booth turned and caught Brennan's alert gaze.

"Bones, stay here with her," he insisted. "Stay here." Booth drew his firearm again and left the room cautiously, and Brennan's eyes followed him, barely hearing Helen's pleas through the surge of adrenaline that seemed to flood her ears with a rushing sound. Brennan absently tried to calm the girl, removing the chains quickly and directing her to a hiding place before quietly following after her partner.

When she spotted him, her breath caught in her chest, and terror gripped her. No… Gil Lappin was wielding a crowbar and doing his best to plant it in Booth's skull. Booth appeared to have already taken a blow to the arm, and he'd lost his gun. He rolled this way and that across the concrete floor in his attempt to dodge the crowbar.

The darkness seemed to sharpen slightly as Brennan's own protective instincts rose up within her, and she raised the gun in her hand almost robotically. Her aim was nearly effortless, and the adrenaline-induced clarity sent her bullet precisely where she'd intended. Brennan watched, paralyzed with horror as Lappin dropped his weapon and fell to the ground next to it. She watched the life leave his eyes.

Booth turned in the direction of the shot and caught sight of Brennan's wide eyes and stunned expression, his heart dropping to his stomach as he was struck by the full force of what she'd done for him.

"Is he dead?" Booth asked her, groaning in pain. He leaned over just enough to check Lappin for a pulse and found none. "Yeah, he's dead," he confirmed when she didn't speak. Brennan remained frozen in place for another moment but then lowered the gun slowly in relief. Her still gaped in shock, and she felt dazed as her system tried to rebalance itself after the rush of adrenaline.

"Bones?" he asked in concern, struggling to sit up and cradling his injured wrist delicately.

"I had to shoot him," she insisted in a hollow tone.

"Yeah," he panted. "I'm glad you did." Her eyes were turbulent as they met his, and he hauled himself off the ground and stumbled toward her. When he reached her, he prized the gun carefully from her hand and reengaged the safety before tucking it into his waistband, scarcely taking his eyes off of her.

She was trembling and still disoriented as Booth wrapped his uninjured arm around her and held her close. Although her eyes pricked with tears, Brennan didn't cry. Instead, she locked her arms around Booth's waist and buried her face against his shoulder until her breathing slowed. She gradually came back to herself as they heard the sounds of other agents and cops echoing through the building. They seemed to have found Helen Majors.

"Hey, come on, baby. Let's help get things settled here and go home, okay?" he urged her gently. Brennan didn't answer but shook her head slightly, and her features shifted into an angry expression. Booth was taken aback at the change but was prevented from asking about it by the interruption of an HRT operator.

It took a half an hour to give their statements and oversee the techs as they processed the scene. Booth refused to go to a hospital, and Brennan argued with him heatedly, insisting that he needed an x-ray of his forearm. He compromised by letting the EMTs take a look at it and give him a soft cast, promising that she could drag him to a radiologist the next morning. What he wanted was to get her home as quickly as possible.

Booth watched her cautiously, remembering the way he'd felt the first time he'd pulled a trigger to end someone's life, and he knew exactly the kind of emotional turmoil she was enduring. Brennan's features were practically frozen into a mask of determination and ire, and when they were finally free to leave the scene, she surprised him once more.

"No, we're going to see Epps," she contradicted him with deadly calm. They were in the SUV again, and she had all but forced him into the passenger seat so that she could drive, arguing that his injured wrist made driving too dangerous.

"Not tonight, Bones," he said firmly.

"Yes, tonight." Brennan ignored his insistence and kept her eyes stubbornly forward as steered the vehicle toward the prison. Booth sighed and narrowed his eyes in concern, scrutinizing the tension in her limbs and shoulders. He considered the pros and cons of trying to talk her into changing course, but in the end he decided to give her what she wanted. The gray steel in her eyes was intimidating, and if it had been anyone but Epps, Booth would have almost felt sorry for him.

However, Booth knew full well that, like Brennan, Epps didn't intimidate easily.

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Epps looked back and forth between them speculatively, but for once, he wasn't smiling. Instead, he seemed irritated, and both partners felt somewhat vindicated by that small bit of progress.

"Well done," Epps said sardonically. "Really."

"Game's over, Howie."

"Yes. I won," he claimed, the ghost of a grin dancing in his eyes.

"Only if you wanted your accomplice dead," Brennan clarified. Her expression cold and calculated, and for once, Booth could almost see a trace of the persona she had portrayed to the world not so long ago.

"Lappin's dead?"

"Shot resisting arrest," Booth added.

"Who shot him?" Epps persisted, looking more intensely between the two partners. Brennan made a noise of discomfort and looked away slightly as though she had a foul taste in her mouth.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Brennan lifted her chin defiantly and remained silent, but she didn't look away again. Her icy gaze remained fixed on Epps as he continued, "You shot him? Did he take long to die?" Brennan's jaw clenched almost painfully. "Did he suffer? This is better than I'd hoped," he added, glancing at Booth again. "I thought it would be you."

Booth narrowed his eyes, ready to pull Brennan out of the room at any moment whether she liked it or not. But she held her tongue as Epps continued to unleash his criticisms on her.

"How did it feel? Dirty, yes? But there's also a rush. Pleasure. Part of you liked it."

"This whole game was to have us kill someone?" Brennan asked with cold anger.

"Who's gonna tell Lappin's mom?" Epps went on, ignoring her question. "She loves him very much, you know. Without her son, she'll be completely alone in this sad world."

Brennan stiffened a little more at the image he presented, and although Epps expression remained firmly emotionless, his eyes were alight with pleasure. Booth put a hand on her shoulder and encouraged her toward the door, fiercely regretting his failure to convince her to just go home.

"We're done with you. You're never gonna see us again," Booth told Epps, keeping his uninjured hand on Brennan until she was out the door. Epps' voice followed him tauntingly, but Booth ignored him, his focus solely on getting Brennan home quickly and safely.

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As they made their way home, Brennan's emotions shifted slowly from shock and anger to confusion and guilt. She stared straight ahead as her brilliant mind chased logic in endless circles. Booth glanced over at her repeatedly, but she remained silent until they were in the house.

"Want a drink?" he offered gently as he watched her hang up her jacket.

"Maybe just some water," she replied, collapsing onto the couch. "You should take something for your arm, Booth."

"The EMT's gave me something. I'm good for a while," he assured her. Booth saw her scowl in disagreement, but she didn't argue. He came to sit next to her on the couch and handed over the glass of water he'd poured for her. She thanked him softly and took a drink.

"Sure you don't want some vodka or scotch?" he asked with a tiny grin.

"No, this is fine. It is still 'on the rocks,'" she joked, returning the smile. Booth relaxed a little more to see her lips curving slightly upward, but he could still see the conflict in her eyes.

"It's been a while since you've been drunk," he pointed out, remembering the night she'd unintentionally revealed a meth-covered mummy in the wall of a nightclub. "If ever there was a night to indulge, this would be it, Bones." He extended his own glass of amber liquid toward her, but she shook her head, so he placed it on the coffee table.

"I'm fine, Booth," she said, out of lingering habit. "I've been thinking about it, and… I'm fine."

"Okay," he replied, smirking a little. "So what I'm getting from you here is that you're fine." She met his eyes and saw that her words hadn't convinced him any more than they ever had, and she leaned into him, feeling a little better when he settled his good arm around her shoulders.

"I know I had to shoot him. He murdered Sarah, he was about to murder Helen… and even if he hadn't done those things, he was trying to kill you. That alone would have been reason enough. I'm not upset that I shot him."

"You're upset that Epps played us again. You're afraid that he turned you into a killer," he said quietly. Brennan kept her eyes trained on the glass of water in her hand, and a shadow of remorse fell over her features. "You have to come to grips with the fact that you killed another human being. Because when you kill someone, there's a cost. It's a steep cost. I know; I've done it." Her shining blue eyes lifted to his face again.

"I did the right thing."

"I know. I was there." Booth lifted his partially immobilized hand to brush away a tear that had spilled over her dark lashes.

"It's more than that though, isn't it?" she asked with a tormented expression.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… I had a good reason to pull that trigger, but... does that make me any less of a murderer than my father is?"

Booth was startled that she'd made that connection so quickly, and he squeezed her tightly against his side as he considered his answer.

"I understand how you got to that conclusion, Bones, but you're forgetting something. The same thing you've reminded me of when we talk about the lives I've taken. You were doing your job, and your actions saved lives. Mine included." She was silent as she contemplated that, still looking a little ill, so he continued, "Do you consider me a murderer?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course not!" she said quickly, stiffening in his arms at the suggestion. The warmth in his brown eyes conveyed his point just as easily as actual spoken words, and she understood him perfectly. By her own logic, she was not a murderer either. Brennan relaxed into him once again and closed her eyes with a long sigh. Booth held her quietly for a few more moments before he spoke again.

"We should go to bed. But first… I've got something for you," he said softly, encouraging her to sit up so that he could dig the small object out of his pocket. He'd spotted it in a store and bought it on a whim, hoping she wouldn't think it was too corny.

Brennan watched in surprise as he extracted a tiny plastic pig from his jacket and held it out toward her. Her eyes stung again, but her smile was more natural this time.

"Meet...Jasper," he chuckled, leaning in toward her until their noses were mere inches apart. Brennan laughed a little and reached out to take the tiny pig, smiling at it affectionately before she turned her eyes back to his. She closed the distance between their mouths and pressed a soft kiss of gratitude to his lips. When she pulled back, he added, "I'm sure that's not quite what you had in mind, but I don't think we're allowed to keep pigs in this neighborhood."

"I love you, Booth," she laughed, shaking her head. "You're right, of course. This is perfect," she assured him, smiling back at Jasper briefly.

"I love you too, baby. Let's get some sleep, okay?"

Brennan nodded and leaned forward to take their drinks from the coffee table, sipping his scotch as she walked to the kitchen sink.

"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking on top of whatever the paramedics gave you."

"It was just ibuprofen, Bones, and I only had a little bit. Don't worry so much."

"Booth, you have a hairline fracture to your distal radius at the very least, you should take more than just ibuprofen," she scolded him. Booth thought about pointing out that he'd have been home sooner to take more medicine if she hadn't insisted on visiting Epps, but he knew that would only compound her guilt. So he allowed her to fuss over him, swallowing the pain pill she handed him and following her obediently up the stairs.

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Booth encased her in his arms as they both attempted to sleep, and although sleep took hours to find them, they didn't speak, choosing to communicate through gentle caresses and contented sighs. Brennan dozed off first, and Booth fought the medication-induced lethargy for as long as possible, knowing that her sleep would be fitful and restless. He wished there was something he could do to keep the nightmares away, but his only real option was to keep her body pressed closely against his own and hope that her subconscious mind would recognize the safety of his embrace.

It worked for a few hours. Brennan twitched and whimpered fretfully in his arms, and each time her movements roused him, he responded automatically, stroking her hair and skin while he made gentle shushing noises. She never seemed to come fully awake, and though it was a long night of too-light sleep for Booth, he was grateful that she hadn't woken up screaming.

Both of them were moving slower than usual the next morning, but Booth followed through on his compromise to have his arm x-rayed first thing. The break wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, most likely owing to the fact that Booth's arm had been moving away from the impact at the time. He was cleared to keep using the soft cast and was given a new prescription for painkillers. Booth didn't intend to take them for any longer than was absolutely necessary, knowing what narcotic analgesics did to him. He surmised that a mentally absent, poorly behaved boyfriend was probably the last thing Brennan needed at the moment.

Although Cullen had ordered Booth to take the day off, Brennan was determined to make an appearance at the lab. Booth tried to argue with her, but she remained adamant.

"I won't be there all day, Booth," she promised. "I just want to grab a few files from my office and check on Zack."

"Okay," he sighed. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, of course not. You just took a painkiller, Booth; you're going to be mentally impaired fairly soon, I should think."

"Don't say it like that," he whined. "That makes me sound crazy."

"Well, do I need to hide the beer before I leave?" she snickered, recalling his fixation with the beverage the last time he'd been injured. He glared playfully at her and pulled her into his arms for a kiss. His lips lingered for several moments longer than he'd intended, and when at last he released her, she was looking a little dazed.

"Bones, what about… parking?" She hadn't driven herself and been alone in the parking garage since her kidnapping, though she had made definite progress in the past month. She no longer seemed to be so terrified of the place when circumstances forced her to be there.

"I've been thinking about that, actually," she sighed. "I've decided to start driving myself to work again, at least on the days that it doesn't make sense for us to carpool. If we're going to a meeting or a crime scene together first thing in the morning, then I'll ride with you. Otherwise, it doesn't make much sense for me to be stranded at the lab unless you come pick me up. The money we save by carpooling is canceled out by the cab fare I pay when I have to go somewhere."

Booth listened calmly without interrupting as she rambled through her logic, and he pursed his lips sadly, hearing her underlying motive whether she acknowledged it or not.

"You know, I actually like driving you back and forth, Bones. I like having that time together."

"I know, but… most nights, you end up waiting for me in my office until I'm ready to leave, and you could be doing much more valuable things with your time."

"Being there for you will never be a waste of my time," he replied softly, shaking his head at her. Her features softened, and she reached up to stroke his stubbled cheek.

"Thank you. But I… I think this is something I need to do. I need to confront the fear and move on, to stop being so weak…"

Booth moved his own hand to her cheek then and forced her to meet his eyes.

"I get that, Bones, but you are not weak. I know how strong you are, and I've never doubted it for an instant, no matter how you get to work and back."

"Thank you," she said again. "I think I also need to get back into my martial arts classes. I haven't been since before…" Brennan trailed off, but Booth didn't need any further clarification. Since before Peter took her, he finished her statement inwardly. He nodded to show that he understood, and she continued, "I think it will give me some peace of mind."

"I agree. It sounds like a good idea." She smiled at him, and Booth was glad to see that the expression seemed more effortless than it had the previous evening. He kissed her goodbye and watched her go, plopping down on the couch with a long sigh as he reached for the remote.

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Brennan kept her promise not to stay at the lab for very long. They no longer had an active case, and while she could have easily gotten lost in a Limbo case to distract her from the events of the previous day, she knew from experience that Booth really shouldn't be left alone for very long if he'd taken his vicodin.

She was relatively pleased with herself for facing the parking structure on her own with a minimal amount of anxiety, both on her way in as well as out. It didn't stop her from scanning the area cautiously, but there was no apparent danger. Brennan picked up lunch on her way back home, and when she stepped through the doorway, she was greeted by a very cheerful Booth.

"You're home!" he announced with a huge grin, sweeping her up into an awkward hug in spite of the takeout bag in her hand.

"Yes, I know," she acknowledged, peering up at his brown eyes. They didn't appear to be quite as dilated as the last time he'd been on vicodin, but his expression was almost unnaturally happy. "Enjoying your medication, I see," Brennan remarked with a smirk.

"I only took half this time so hopefully I won't be such a pain in the ass," he nodded animatedly. This is what a half dose does? she thought, watching his brows lift as his eyes swept the length of her body appreciatively. Their progress halted on the bag in her hand. "You brought food!" he exalted.

Brennan steered him toward the kitchen table and pushed him into a chair, setting the takeout bag in front of him before she went into the kitchen for a couple of drinks. When she returned, he'd managed to arrange everything on the table and was happily sucking lo mein noodles into his mouth. Brennan rolled her eyes a little at his immaturity but couldn't suppress a smile.

Sharing a meal with a drugged Booth was something like having lunch with a toddler, Brennan suspected. He was messy, played with his food, and whined until she surrendered the last egg roll. Booth might have thought that his intoxicated state would be a burden to her, but Brennan actually felt relief at the light-hearted shift in the atmosphere. It meant that she could think about happy things as opposed to the life she'd taken less than twenty-four hours ago.

Not long after they finished their meal, Booth seemed to progress from toddler-like behavior to that of a horny teenager. He managed to pull her onto his lap as he sat on the couch, and Brennan didn't even bother putting up a fight. She craved the warmth and security that could only be found in his arms, and she snuggled into him gratefully.

For a long while, Booth seemed content to simply hold her and run his uninjured hand over her long limbs, sneaking under the hem of her shirt to caress the soft skin hidden beneath. Her scent invaded his senses, and he savored the feeling of her face buried against his neck. His high faded slowly until the haze lifted from his thoughts, and he was glad that his wounded arm only throbbed a little.

Brennan could have fallen asleep on his lap were it not for the constant movements of his hand as it played over her skin and the utterly intoxicating scent of his. It was hard to tell which of them was more affected: Booth by his medication or Brennan by Booth. She couldn't resist the inclination to press her lips to the satiny skin of his neck a few times, and she smiled as he shuddered beneath her in response.

"Bones," he sighed, pulling his head back far enough to see her face. She searched his eyes, trying to determine whether or not she would be taking advantage of him if she continued, and she was pleased to see that the medication seemed to have worn off for the most part. Brennan gazed back at him, her blue eyes full of tenderness and desire, and his breath caught in his chest at the slow smile that worked its way across her beautiful face.

There were times when her beauty could stun him, even after having spent nearly every day in her presence for over a year. Whether she was riding next to him in his SUV, lying next to him in bed, or literally squinting at a set of remains, her elegance and grace had the ability to leave him struggling for oxygen as well as coherent thought. This was one of those times. What made it all the more entrancing was that she didn't seem to realize how a mere glance in her direction had such a physical impact on him.

"Booth," she purred, kissing his lips lightly. "Are you in pain?"

"Yeah, but not the kind you're talking about," he answered with a wicked grin. He knew she was referring to his arm, but at the moment, another part of his anatomy was aching even more. Aching for her.

"Hmmm. Maybe we should do something about that then," she suggested. Brennan kissed him once more and stood between his parted legs. He hoped she was getting up to either pull him upstairs to their bedroom or even remove her clothing right there, but she had other ideas. She knelt on the floor between his knees and slowly worked his pants and boxers down and over his legs. Booth knew what she intended, but it didn't stop his body from jerking reactively when the tip of her tongue swept the underside of his arousal.

Brennan teased him for several long minutes, brushing her tongue this way and that, and circling the tip at an agonizingly slow pace. Booth's head fell back against the couch, and he groaned loudly, trying to pull her upward by her arms in spite of his injury.

"Stop, you're going to hurt your arm," she scolded, lifting her mouth away only long enough to say the words.

"Then get up here," he begged. Brennan shook her head and kept her eyes locked on his as she took him into her mouth completely. Booth gasped as he watched her eyes change color slightly, darkening with desire while she began a steady rhythm. Every few passes, she would push him all the way into her mouth, relaxing her throat until her lips were wrapped around the base of his erection, and it was all he could do to maintain a sliver of self-control.

It seemed that self-control was not what she wanted from him, however, and Brennan increased her pace gradually until his fingers had gathered a handful of her hair, holding tightly as he shouted his release. He exploded into her mouth, and she didn't lift her head until his tremors ceased.

She pulled his clothing back into place and settled herself back on his lap, looking rather smug as she observed his efforts to slow his breathing. He grinned back at her affectionately, still completely overwhelmed by her.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," she smiled. "Besides, you can return the favor later."

"Mmmm… exactly when is 'later?'" he asked, stealing a soft kiss from her upturned mouth.

"We'll see," she hedged. "Right now you need another pill though."

"Nah, I'm good. Spectacular, actually…" Booth closed his eyes with a sated grin and hugged her tighter to him, ignoring the twinge in his arm. He must've flinched slightly, because in the next second, she was pulling out of his arms and walking toward the kitchen. He frowned at the loss of her warmth.

"Oh, stop pouting," she chided him when she returned. Brennan had come back with a glass of water and another half pain pill.

"You got up," he complained. "I was enjoying the feeling of a sexy woman on my lap." Booth winked at her as he obediently swallowed the pill and handed the glass back to her.

"Yes, well...lap dances later. You should take a nap while I try to make some progress on the paperwork I brought home."

"Promise?" he asked, brown eyes gleaming with mischief. She chuckled and leaned down to kiss him gently.

"If you behave."

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Brennan's nightmares found her again that evening, and this time, she woke up screaming. Booth was jolted out of his own slumber and quickly folded her into a tight embrace, shushing and soothing her until she quieted. When only the occasional sob or sniffle punctuated the darkness of their bedroom, Booth felt he'd held his silence long enough.

"Talk to me, Bones," he pled gently.

"I'm okay," she lied.

"No you're not. And you shouldn't be, so there's nothing to feel ashamed of." Brennan didn't answer for a few moments, but he waited patiently for her to speak.

"I… I keep seeing his eyes," she whispered. Booth nodded and held her a little tighter, knowing exactly what she meant.

"I know how hard it is," he promised. "But you really did do the right thing, Bones."

"I know. I did it to protect you, and I'd do it again without hesitation. I just...hope I'll never have to."

"Me too, baby." Booth cringed at the thought that she had killed someone for him. "I'd do the same for you. I'd do anything for you. Kill for you, die for you… Anything."

Brennan made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob as she pulled back to look at his face. His expression was utterly sincere, and it scared the hell out of her.

"You do not have permission to die," she insisted through watery eyes. Brennan's mind was assaulted by the images his words had presented, and the thought that he might actually get himself killed to save her made her chest ache with terror.

"I know, Bones. I didn't mean it like that," he soothed, regretting that he'd unintentionally caused her more pain and fear. He hadn't been exaggerating, but perhaps that hadn't been the best thing to say under the circumstances. Brennan clung to him, still trembling, and it was a long while before she succumbed to sleep once more.

Booth ignored the pain in his arm and continued to hold her close, fighting his exhaustion for as long as possible. By the time he could no longer resist the need to sleep, the sun was peeking over the horizon.

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Let me know what you think. :)

The next handful of chapters will focus primarily on AU stuff, hopefully to make up for the last three having to be so case-oriented. I'm also spoiling you with tons of smut that will have to taper off when the big bad Gravedigger comes. See you Wednesday!