Brennan and Booth finished a long day of crime fighting. There was a second set of remains that tied to the case they were already working. Not a serial killer, a man who snapped and killed his wife and then someone he thought she was cheating with. The second body is what gave them the evidence they needed in the interrogation of the husband, connecting the dots that made it impossible for him to stay the heartbroken husband and revealed him to be the jealous killer.

All that was left was the paperwork, but the day had been too long to keep going. It was dark, and they were hungry, and it was Bones who made the suggestion.

"Should we go celebrate a case closed? Food? Maybe a drink?"

She loved the smile he gave her when he looked up from the papers on his desk. She'd read his mind.

"Yeah. That sounds great."

It was actually the most 'him' he had sounded all day. The murder of the wife had been brutal. Painful. Purposefully painful. It was an ugly crime and they were glad to have it behind then, so they left the paperwork barely started on his desk, turned out the lights, and made their way to Founding Fathers.

They ate and laughed. They had a few drinks. They caught up on Parker and Russ and the girls. He told her how well the Flyers were doing this year. She told him about a new restaurant she wanted to try soon. Brennan loved this time. She wanted more, she wanted it to be more, but wasn't sure how to read him – his intentions, his boundaries. Not about this.

Booth gave her a ride to her apartment, and she said goodnight. She almost let her fingertips touch his forearm as it rested between them in the car. His Tahoe was like their second home.

But she didn't. She said goodnight and made her way inside. She even waived out the window when she got into her apartment, knowing that he had waited to see her light come on before he drove away. That was his routine.

A knock on the door grabbed her attention and she greeted her neighbor – a kind older woman who she rarely ever saw. Connie had signed for a package earlier in the day and was handing it off dutifully. It was a brief and pleasant conversation that ended with Brennan bringing the box to her dining room table and cutting it open. She unfolded the cardboard flaps and smiled at the contents.

For months now she'd been gathering her favorite pictures of Booth and Parker. After the last one she needed, the one of their most recent spring break camping trip, she had chosen the best of them. She'd had her six favorite images printed and as she retrieved the photos from her desk she held one up as she took a frame out of the newly arrived package.

The set of collage frames that arrived were quickly laid out on the table, matched to the photos of the right sizes. She arranged the frames on the table the way they should hang on the wall, and took a picture on her phone to keep the arrangement in her mind. She hadn't decided how she was going to sneak into Booth's apartment and hang them, but that was the next step.

She began clearing the frames off the table and returning them to the box for safekeeping. There was only one left on the table when she heard another knock at the door. She was surprised to find Agent McGowan at her door. She raged an internal debate for a moment, and then opened up.

"McGowan," she greeted. Not warmly. Not rude, but not inviting.

"Temperance," he returned with a smile, not waiting for an invitation and inviting himself into her apartment.

"I didn't realize you knew where I lived." She hadn't invited him back to her place and hadn't taken any invitations to go to his. She hadn't let him pick her up or drop her off. How he found his way to her door was a mystery that made her uncomfortable.

"Well, I do work for the FBI," he joked.

He was now standing in her apartment with a file in his hand.

"What can I do for you, Daniel?"

"I was closing out the paperwork for the case and I needed your signature on a few things. Prosecutor needs it tomorrow. Hope you don't mind."

"All the FBI paperwork is complete," she pointed out.

"Ah, but the DC police have their own paperwork." He handed over a folder and she opened it, seeing at least three places where her FBI report findings had been attached to a Washington DC Police form and there was a place for her signature with a little sticky pointing to the line.

"Of course," she said in her business tone. She brought the folder over to the table, taking the pen he had clipped to the cover. She found the places he had marked and after a quick confirmation of the information on the page, she signed her name. She closed the folder and turned to give it to him with every intent of ushering him back out the door, but he wasn't still standing beside her.

When her eyes found him she was uncomfortable to find him walking the apartment. He looked at her books and photos and artifacts, walked through her space. It gave her a shiver to have him in a space so personal. She held the folder out and called his name, grabbing his attention. He crossed back to her to take the folder, but was distracted by the now framed photo of Booth and Parker on her table.

He lifted it, regarding it with scrutiny and then with an expression she couldn't decipher.

"You becoming a stalker there, Tempe?" he asked irreverently.

"Booth is my partner, and his son is a wonderful young man."

"It's not your family. You know that, right? I don't know one other person who has a picture of their partner's kid in their apartment."

"It is one of Booth's favorite pictures. I framed it as a gift for him." She closed her mouth tightly. She was frustrated at his statement. She was even more frustrated that she explained herself to him.

Reaching for the photo, she put her hand on the frame to take it from him, but his grip didn't loosen. When she added strength so did he, and in the brief and subtle tug of war, the frame fell to the floor, the glass shattering. She flinched just the smallest bit at the sound of it hitting the floor.

She thought she saw a hint of a smile before his head snapped to the broken glass, and he changed in front of her. He went to the ground immediately, his knee avoiding small pieces of glass as he began picking up pieces and apologizing.

"I'm so sorry, Temperance. I shouldn't have touched it. I was an ass. Let me clean it up."

"I can do it, McGowan," she said quickly, but she couldn't stop him. He picked up the glass he had in his hand and brought it to the trashcan, then got a kitchen towel and wet it to pick up small shards.

"No – this is my fault. I'll do it."

She didn't want to argue with him. She didn't want to get on the floor and help him. She didn't want him to stay, so she stood awkwardly in her own apartment waiting for him to finish. He brought the towel back to the kitchen, shook out what glass he could and left it on the counter. When he came close to her, she simply handed him the folder.

"I think that's everything you need," was all she said, making it clear his visit was over. He nodded and made his way out the door.

Brennan picked up her phone almost instinctively, her finger hovering on Booth's speed dial, but her finger didn't press the button. What would she say? McGowan said I wasn't really family and then he dropped a picture frame? McGowan implied I was a stalker? Plus, she was hoping to surprise him with the photo arrangement on his wall, so she didn't want to tell him about it yet anyway.

She opened her laptop instead, ordering a replacement frame and resolving not to think about McGowan anymore that night.