A Valentine in the Water (SPOILER FIC, K+?)

Part I

Brennan knocked on Booth's door. After the third knock, she squatted and picked up the fake rock and took the spare key out.

Before she could put the key in, the door swung open and two familiar eyes peaked out. However, those eyes did not belong to Agent Booth, but the beautiful, blue eyed, blond bombshell Agent Payton Perotta. "Dr. Brennan," the woman greeted with a slight New York accent. "Why don't you come in?"

Brennan straightened unconsciously and walked in past the woman who wore only a robe.

"What brings you here?" She glanced at her watch. "It's only six."

"Uh.."

Before her mind could clear, Booth came out of the bathroom in a towel with moist hair, "Hey, Bones."

"Booth," Brennan glanced between Perotta and Booth. It had never occurred to her how she and Booth's interactions should be handled when he was dating. Booth had had dates, but Perotta had been his girlfriend for a little over two months by then. It was clear that things had changed between Booth and Brennan. Things were more stilted and professional. Late night drinks or talks about sex were kept to a minimum. "You turned off your cell."

"Did I?" He glanced over at Payton who blushed slightly, most likely over the night before's memory.

"I'll just--" Payton gestured toward the bedroom, then took her leave.

"Cullen call?" Booth asked.

"Yes," Brennan replied. Why was it so difficult to concentrate when that man was shirtless? "A body was washed through a storm drain. The remains are skeletal, so..."

After a moment of awkward silence, Booth finally came to his senses, realizing that he was standing in nothing but a towel in front of his partner. "Right. OK. Just give me a sec and I'll get dressed."

"Fine," she replied quickly.

"Good." Booth walked out of the room, leaving a thoughtful look on Brennan's face, much like the same thoughtful look that Inspector Pritchard left on her face the previous summer.

Part II

Booth and Brennan were driving as a cold February snow began to fall on the windshield. They had been driving in silence for several minutes.

"Cam is going to meet us," Brennan murmured.

Booth looked over at Brennan. "That's good."

"She's bringing Mr. Bray."

Booth looked over at her with a hint of a smile on his lips. "Finally letting the interns tag along, are we?"

She sat up a little straighter, almost defensively, "I figure that... Zack may never come back." Compassion etched Booth's features as he looked at his partner. "So, I should let my interns see what I do more extensively. Work on the cases more intimately."

"I think that's a good idea," Booth said softly.

"Speaking of intimate," Brennan said, finally seeing the opening for the conversation she'd been dying to have with Booth. "How is your relationship with Agent Perotta going?"

Booth winced, "Look, Bones, I don't wanna talk about it right now."

"What? I'm happy for you, Booth," Brennan said, smiling widely.

"Well, thanks, Bones, but I still don't wanna talk about it."

"How long have you two been sleeping together?"

Booth looked sharply over at Brennan. "That's none of your business."

"We're partners, Booth. And I told you about when I slept with Sully."

"That was information I didn't care to be privy to."

"But I let you be privy to it because... I care... for you."

Booth glanced over at Brennan, his expression softened. "A week or two now."

Brennan nodded, "Do you have any plans for Valentine's Day?"

Booth looked uncomfortable and gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I haven't really thought about it. Does dinner sound too corny?"

"It's a tad cliche, but it sounds nice. Maybe you could take her dancing?"

Booth smiled weakly, then sighed, "Payton works Saturday."

"Oh. Perhaps you should take her to dinner on Friday?" Booth pursed his lips in response. "Sunday? Monday?"

Booth laughed lightly. "I've never done this, you know?"

"No. I don't know."

"I've never dated another agent before. Our schedules both depend on cases and how they're going."

"Then perhaps you should just make her a romantic dinner at home?"

Booth smiled as they pulled onto the 895 toward Delaware. "That's not a bad idea, Bones. Hey, what about you?"

"You want me to cook?" Brennan asked, confused.

"No. I mean, what are you doing on Saturday?"

"I was contemplating going to Wong Foo's."

"Ah," Booth nodded with a grin. "The Twelfth Annual Kiss N Tell?"

Brennan smiled, "I decided that I should go out rather than stay in. I won't be the only single woman at the bar."

"Angela's going with you?"

"I invited her, but as it turns out she and Hodgins are going to dinner."

"Together?" Booth asked with a raised brow.

"I know. It's ridiculous. One minute they want one another, then next they're platonic. I just don't understand it. Although, I did get the impression that it's just dinner."

Booth contemplated that, but it was easy to see on his face that he didn't believe that it actually would be just dinner. He was the King of Justs. Just friends. Just dinner. Just partners. He knew better.

Part III

Cam smiled with one hand lifted to block the sun from her eyes. Booth and Brennan parked on the side of the road beside an ambulance. Several police vehicles kept the right side of the road blocked off. Private citizens drove by slowly, curiously, trying to catch a glance at a body, blood, or other horrors.

Cam and Wendell Bray walked over to meet Booth and Brennan. They were dressed in wet suits, minus the masks so they could breathe fresh air.

"What do we have here, Cam?" Booth asked as they walked toward the Forensics van where Brennan sat on the edge and began to take off her boots and socks.

"Wendell and I have already made a dive, but I didn't want to touch the remains until Dr. Brennan got here."

"Thank you," Brennan said.

"Apparently, the storm drain that connects to the canal became clogged, so city workers suited up and got a little surprise."

"They swam in human sludge?" Booth raised a brow.

"It's not as bad as you'd think it would be," Wendell said. "Hey, nice to see ya again, Agent Booth."

Booth grinned and patted the guy on the back, "Nice to see you again, too." Wendell was one of the few interns that didn't make him want to snack on dynamite.

"How's the girlfriend?" Wendell asked.

"Good. Hey, let's talk about corpses, huh?"

"Sure."

"Yes, let's talk about the case at hand," Brennan cut into the conversation as she stood and finished unbuttoning her shirt. She stood in her camisole in the freezing air.

"Bones, aren't you cold?" Booth couldn't help but to let his eyes wander just a little bit. Yes. Obviously she was cold.

She smiled after catching where his eyes had gone. "I won't be in a second." She unzipped her jeans.

Wendell's eyes grew wide. He couldn't risk a sexual harassment accusation from his boss, so he quickly skedaddled.

"Bones!" Booth said, taking his jacket off and holding it up as a curtain for Brennan.

"Relax, Booth. I'm wearing bike shorts beneath my jeans."

Booth hesitated, then lowered his jacket and put it back on. Brennan indeed had black spandex shorts on beneath her jeans. She was bending over, cleavage was easily seen from beneath her black camisole. With that, Booth turned and gave her a little privacy as she sat back down and slid her legs into the wetsuit. Brennan smiled to herself while Booth fought an internal emotional war. He cared deeply for Payton, right? Just like he cared deeply for Brennan, but in a different way. It was different, right? Right???

"You can turn around now, Booth."

He did turn around just as she she finished zipping the wetsuit up. "You look good, Bones," He chuckled.

Brennan cocked her head to the side, "Few people look good in neoprene."

"I--I meant it, Bones. So, how about that floater?"

Brennan walked past him, ignoring the looking good comment, which was convoluted anyway. They walked to the edge of the canal where other divers were standing, conversing, shivering.

"Would you like to do the honors, Dr. Brennan?" Cam asked.

Brennan nodded and squatted beside the canal. She tested the waters for a moment and considered the best point of entry. At long last, she sat beside the canal's edge and put her feet in. The Delaware Chesapeake Canal was more of a river than a canal, lined with soil and rocks, but this partcular part was lined in concrete to support the storm drain that met the waters.

Booth jogged past a few people and held out his hand, "Let me help you, Bones."

She hesitated for a moment. That hand belonged to Agent Perotta, right? Not that anybody could own a man or his hand, but still... Then there was that other thought. Would she have hesitated to take his hand if he wasn't dating Agent Perotta? If their relationship wasn't so serious? Would she take it if she was jealous? She wasn't jealous. Not she. She held out her hand and he gripped her neoprene glove firmly, squatting beside the canal and helping her lower herself slowly into the icy water.

She swam over to where Cam was pointing, then dunked beneath the water. Even with the cold-water wetsuit on, she still felt her body lower several degrees as she sank below the surface. Thanks to the winter weather, the water was crisp and clear. She followed the perpendicular concrete wall until she came to the opening of the storm sewer. It was grated off to catch debris, but it was easy to see a skeletal hand drifting eerily in the water. The rest of the body was most likely there, however distorted by leaves, debris, sticks, and trash. The grate was partially opened, two bolts were missing. Most likely evidence of how quickly the city workers had hot-footed it out of the canal. She carefully moved the grate to the side and reached in, moving leaves and garbage to the side gently. The refuse released and drifted into the water, revealing more of the skeleton. A skull, another radius, ulna and phalanges combo. A femur.

She swam back up to the surface, taking her mask off as she reached the air.

"Human?" Cam asked.

"Definitely human. Male. A lot of debris is blocking my view, so we'll have to remove the victim before I can say anything definitive." That was the cue for the FBI dive team to pull on their masks and lower themselves into the water.

Amazing beginning and I love the idea of a fanfic based on spoilers. I always used to tell myself that I wasn't going to read them, but I just can't seem to help myself.

Of course she isn't jealous. It just wouldn't be rational. I did feel for her when Booth was asking what she thought he should do for another woman on Valentines Day.

Hehee. The start is very good! I love it! Altough, I have no time to read it, I will read it, I promise. And I then review it more

(Y)

Aw thank you all. Whenever I read spoilers, I can't help but to dream up possibilities lol...

Part IV

"No teeth," Cam said aloud as she, Wendell, Brennan, Angela, and Hodgins stood around the corpse. It was mostly skeletonized, but meaty tissue still clung to the bones in grayish pink clumps. "That makes identification fun."

"I don't know about fun. It actually makes it a little more difficult," Brennan replied.

"I call that one hyperbole, Dr. Brennan."

"Oh." Then she turned her attention to the skull. "Hairline fractures to the mandible."

"Fractures on the phalanges of the right hand," said Wendell.

Hodgins laughed, "That guy got schooled."

Brennan scrunched her brow. "There's no way we can tell what kind of education the victim had."

"It means he got into a fight. You know," Hodgins held up his fists and threw a few faux punches at Wendell's jaw. "He got told Old School."

"In that case, our victim is right handed, which concurs with the bone markers."

"Occupational markers suggest that he did a lot of heavy lifting, squatting, standing, climbing... He probably had a lot of pain in his knees," Wendell said.

Brennan smiled at him. "You're doing a good job, Mr. Bray."

"Big, strong, right handed, got in a fight, went for a swim and never came back..." Angela mused.

"There's no evidence that he went for a swim. Considering the placement of the body behind the filtering grate, he was most likely placed a storm sewer post-mortem," Brennan corrected.

Cam gave her a strange look. Brennan was sure on a roll with correcting and being overly precise... a thing she once practiced when breaking in interns. So who or what was she breaking in this time?

Booth slid his card and hopped onto the platform. Brennan quickly looked up, then as quickly as she looked up, she redirected her glance back at the skeleton. A glance that Cam and Angela caught. Both women smiled to themselves and looked back down at the skeleton. "I'll just take what's left of the liver," Cam said.

"As long as it's not for dinner, Cam." Booth grinned. "Bones. Any ID yet?"

Brennan didn't look up. "Not yet."

Sensing the coldness of her voice, Booth shrugged and walked over to Angela. "What's wrong with her?"

Angela raised a brow sarcastically, fluttered her eyes, and said, "You should know." Although she said that, the tone and look said something more along the lines of: 'You should know that. Being Mister Dr. Brennan and all?'

Booth made a grunting noise and followed Cam out of the lab and into the morgue room. Brennan's eyes followed him as he left, then went back to her work.

Booth watched in silence as Cam weighed the decayed liver, bits of spleen, and part of a heart and lung.

Cam decided to take pity on him after a few minutes, "What's wrong, Booth?"

Booth sighed, "Nothing."

Cam eyed him for a second, then decided to let it drop as he had. "Angela should have a sketch soon."

"I just hate this, you know?"

Cam raised an eyebrow, then smiled and played coy, "Hate what?"

"This tension.... between me and Bones."

"What do you suppose is causing that tension, then?" Cam asked as she transferred--more like poured--a putrified organ into a new container.

Booth scrunched his nose. "I don't know. Things just have been different since..."

"Since what?" Since you've started dating Agent Blondie?

"I--honestly don't know."

"You don't?" Cam asked disbelievingly.

Booth smiled and walked over to her, grimacing at the gray-green thing she was weighing. "Last December, actually."

Cam paused at the tone in his voice and looked up at him.

"We... almost kissed."

"Almost?"

Booth sighed, "Yeah. Well, the fact is, we didn't kiss. And things have been like this ever since. Stiff. Different. Maybe it freaked her out."

"What about Agent Perotta?" Interesting that he hadn't made that particular connection yet.

Booth chuckled wryly. "Brennan actually encouraged me to ask her out. And what the hell was I supposed to do? I thought she was pushing away, which is fine. I kinda expected that. But it turns out that I really liked--like--Payton... I don't think that's what it is."

Cam put down her tray and smiled at Booth. "Dr. Brennan is a woman first, scientist second. Just remember that." She turned and walked away to start on the tox screen.

Part V

"OK, I think I have a pretty good sketch. Whaddya think?" Angela turned the sketch pad around for Brennan to see.

Brennan looked up, glanced, then looked back down. "It looks nice, Ange, but Mr. Bray is still working on the tissue markers. I've yet to approve them."

Angela suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as she dropped the notepad to her side and walked over to Brennan's desk where she took a seat next to her. She simply looked at Brennan for several silent seconds until Brennan looked up, feeling her friend's eyes boring into her skull. "What?"

"Just tell me what's up, Bren."

"The ceiling," Brennan replied coolly.

This time Angela did roll her eyes. "Seriously, sweetie. I don't know what's wrong with you any more." She stood abruptly.

Brennan followed her friend with curious eyes as Angela stood. "I don't know what you mean by that, Ange."

"That. That's what I'm talking, sweetie. The overly-preciseness. Always correcting and nit-picking. Under estimating. Saying that you don't know what I mean." Angela took a second to breathe. "Whenever you're ready to talk, sweetie, I'll be here. Like always. Waiting for your subconscious to catch up with you." With that, Angela walked out of the office, passing Wendell as he entered the office with skull in hand.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan blinked, trying to come back to reality. "Yes, Mr. Bray?"

"I've finished with the tissue markers. I was wondering if you could approve them for me?"

"Technically, I'm just reviewing them..." Brennan began, but then she caught herself. She was doing that. Correcting, nit picking, being overly precise. "Bring it here, please."

Wendell brought the skull over to her. Brennan examined it for several anxious seconds. Wendell brought up a chair and sat beside Dr. Brennan.

Brennan looked over at Wendell, obviously thinking about something other than tissue markers.

"What, Dr. Brennan?" Wendell asked.

"Have you... Never mind." Brennan looked back at the skull. After quickly thinking it over, she looked back up at a very anxious Wendell Bray. "Have you--not to sound sophomoric, but, have you ever dated a colleague?"

Wendell laughed nervously, a high pitched hee sound, "I-I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan, but did you just ask me-?"

Brennan shifted for a second thoughtfully as she studied the 'human remains' of the young man in front of her. "I only ask because you are a man and I am a woman--"

"Dr. Brennan, please."

Brennan stopped to study his face curiously, then, "In being a female, there are certain things I don't understand about males and their sexual thirsts. Are they the same or different than those of women? Can dating your coworker actually work out?"

Wendell searched for a way out, then he remembered Angela's advice, "Dr. Brennan, I hope you won't hate me for saying that I think you're being a little inappropriate here."

Brennan paused, then spoke more thoughtfully, "I apologize, Mr. Bray. I can see how that could have been taken out of context."

Wendell sighed. "Thanks."

Brennan handed him back the skull. "These markers look accurate."

"Thanks, Dr. Brennan." Wendell grabbed the skull and was out of there before anything more could be exchanged between the two of them.

Hahaaa....... Hahaa...
*cant stop laughing*
Its thaat episodeee
Muhahahaaa

Keep on going!

That was awesome!

Way to go Cam for reminding Booth that Brennan is first and foremost a woman.. Not that I'm sure he hasn't noticed, but geez, how can he not figure this out?

Poor Wendell, at least he got up the nerve to tell her she was being unprofessional:)

Thanks everyone!

Part VI

"Lunch?" Booth asked from the doorway of Brennan's office.

She looked up for a fraction of a second, fought an internal war for another fraction, then smiled slightly, "Let me grab my purse."

"My treat," Booth grinned.

She stood silently, the tenseness between them could have been snapped with a butter knife. She grabbed her jacket and began to put it on. Booth took several steps ahead. "Let me help you." He didn't wait for approval, he just helped her anyway, sliding the jacket up her arms an onto her shoulders.

At lunch, Booth was the first to break the silence.

"The body could've washed through the storm sewer anywhere along the lines."

"How long do the lines stretch?" Brennan asked as she stabbed at a cherry tomato.

"Eighty miles through Delaware and Maryland," Booth said. They were both glad to have work to fill the conversation.

"So, basically we're waiting on an ID from Angela's facial reconstruction."

"Yeah," Booth replied as he eyed Brennan.

"Are there any outstanding missing persons reports?"

"Already did all of the footwork, Bones. There are about three hundred and twenty of those things."

"But what about men? Thirty-five to forty-five?"

"About seventy-five."

"That narrows it down," Brennan replied sarcastically.

"Tell me about it," Booth grinned at her, then pushed his plate a few inches toward her."Fry?"

She hesitated,then reached for a fry.

Part VII

That night, Cam walked up to Hodgins' work area. "What do you have for me, Dr. Hodgins?"

"What does this look like?" Hodgins asked, pushing the microscope closer to her.

Cam paused for a second, then looked through the microscope. She looked at Hodgins questioningly. "What about it?"

"You're gonna love this."

Cam raised her eyebrows.

"Er... I'm gonna love this. Anyway, the base of the victim's jeans had particulates from oil, urine, detergents, solvents, various chemicals, and pitch. What does that mean?"

Cam blinked. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me."

Hodgins crossed both arms. "I don't know. I was serious when I asked what that means."

"Is this why you called me over here?"

Hodgins shrugged. "Hey, I just figured that it could help. Maybe you could tell Booth?"

"I'm not the teacher and this isn't nursery school, Dr. Hodgins, so pick up the phone and call him yourself." Cam turned and walked off the platform.

Hodgins sighed and picked up the phone on his desk. After a few rings, instead of Booth picking up, Perotta picked it up. "Agent Booth's Phone," she said cheerily.

"Uh..." Hodgins squeaked. Then he cleared his throat, "H--Hello. This is Dr. Hodgins. Is Booth around?"

"One second." Payton opened the bedroom door in time to see Booth pull a tee shirt over his head. She paused and smiled at him, eyeing him like a starving dog eyes a t-bone steak.

Booth smiled and walked toward her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her lips. "What?" He muttered against her lips.

"Phone," Perotta held out the phone.

Booth went pale. "Who is it?"

"Dr. Hodgins."

The color came back to his cheeks and he took the phone. "Hey, Hodgins."

On the other line, Hodgins had been putting together why Brennan had been so irritable and fastidious lately. "I looked at the base of the victim's jeans and they had particulates from oil, urine, detergents, solvents, chemicals, and pitch."

"And what's that mean?" He asked just as his girlfriend's arms slipped around his waist from behind. Hodgins heard him kissing her finger tips.

"I--I don't know. I've thought about it and one thing that makes sense is that he works at sea. Like a merchant seaman."

Booth snickered.

"That's S-E-A-M-A-N."

"I know. Hey, thanks, man."

"He could work as a sewage inspector or... he cleans bathrooms."

"That... really narrows it down." Booth hung up, turned and began to kiss Payton passionately.

Hodgins glared at the phone. Then he said in a mocking voice, "You're a genius, Hodgins. I wish I had three doctorates, too. You're indispensable!"

Angela laughed from behind him.

Hodgins turned around to glare at her, too.

"I think you're a few fries short of a Happy Meal, there, sweetie."

Hodgins' glare softened as he remembered the new information, "I think I might know why Dr. B's been chewing our heads off lately."

Angela smiled and sat beside him. "Why?"

"I called Booth's phone and a certain beautiful agent answered."

Angela just looked at him. No glimmer of realization.

"Perotta."

Her eyes grew a bit wider. "Oh... Kinda makes you wonder how often Agent Perkytits answers the cell."

"I'm sure once is enough," he answered.

"Wanna grab some dinner?"

"You're buying, right?" Hodgins stood up beside her.

Angela just laughed at him as they walked out of the lab.

Great, love this I can't stop laughing!

Thank you!

Part VIII

"Angela couldn't get an ID?" Booth asked as he stood next to Brennan's bedroom door.

On the other side, Brennan pulled up her slacks and slid her feet into a pair of calf-high boots. "You can come in now." Brennan said. Any other time, she would have been happy to let him stay on the other side of the door, but this time she tried to keep from psychoanalyzing herself and the invitation.

Booth turned the handle and stood in the doorway, silently watching as Brennan walked to the other side of the room and picked out a jacket from the closet. "Not from the NCIC, anyway. However, from Hodgins' list of possible careers of the victim, we were able to determine, both from bone markers and particulates that he was most likely a merchant seaman."

Booth snickered.

"Merchant Sea Worker," Brennan clarified, making a mental note to use that phrase instead of the other one. "Which led me to a list of sea--workers who hadn't shown up for duty."

They walked toward the front door, Booth handed her a coffee. In the SUV, the conversation continued.

"We compared photo IDs to Angela's 3D rendering." Brennan pulled a file from her laptop bag and handed it over to Booth. "Graham Herman, 38, third assistant engineer on the Our Lady of the Potomac."

Booth reached over and grabbed the file.

"You should keep your eye on the road, Booth."

"I can drive, Bones."

"You're making me extremely nervous."

"I'm an excellent double-tasker, Bones."

"Maybe I should drive, Booth."

"I can do this. I can read, I can drive."

"I think you're being--"

Booth cut her off, "Who's the sniper-trained FBI Agent here, Bones? Who?"

"I doubt they taught you to drive and read in the FBI!"

"My eyesight is excellent, as is my peripheral vision!"

"Who's being the Rainman now, Booth!?"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, both feeling anger course through their veins.

Finally, Booth decided to take another route. "Let's go check out Herman's place."

"Fine," Brennan replied shortly.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Fine." Booth replied again shortly.

Part IX

The SUV stopped in front of a modest bungalow in a DC suburb. The yard was spotless, with the exception of three red and black adult size bicycles in the front yard. They looked at one another for a moment. It had been a long, silent drive.

"It... looks nice," Booth remarked.

Brennan rolled her eyes and got out of the SUV.

Booth, scrunching his brow, speed-walked around to the other side. He stood in front of her, hands on his hips. "What was that about, Bones?"

"What was what about?" Brennan replied calmly, naively.

"You know what I was talking about. That eye-roll when I said this place looks nice."

Brennan crossed her arms. She wasn't always so snippy, but something about Booth nowadays made her want to chew his head off and spit it out. "It just figures that you would think it looks nice."

"What's that supposed to mean, Bones?" He took another step closer. Not being one to be walked all over, she took a step into him, closing the negative air space.

"Somebody like you. Some place like this. It's so domestic. It figures that you'd like a place like this."

Booth narrowed his eyes at her. "And what does it matter if I like places like this? Who doesn't want to settle down and live in a little white house with Fisher Price toys in the front yard? --Oh yeah. YOU." Booth turned and walked up the walk, leaving Brennan behind.

By the time Brennan recovered and ran to meet Booth, the door was open. "Can I help you?" The woman behind it was in her early thirties. She was a tall woman, close to five foot eleven, with blond hair and bright blue eyes.

Booth showed his badge. "I'd like to ask a few questions about Graham Herman."

A worried expression painted her face, "Yes, of course. Come right in. "

She ushered them into a large sitting room. It was clean with the exception of an X-Box and two black cords that snaked across the floor to controllers on the opposite couch.

"I'm sorry. My--step-son was playing here. Just let me..." She put the controllers away with nervous hands that shook.

She sat down on the edge of a La-Z-Boy recliner.

Brennan watched as she tucked the shaking hands between her thighs.

"My name is Special Agent Seeley Booth. This is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan. And who are you?"

"Rhonda Herman. Graham's my husband. Did something happen to him? Did the ship go down?" She looked between the two, then her eyes began to water. "Oh, G-d. He's gone, isn't he?"

Brennan looked to Booth, then back at Rhonda. "We found remains--"

The sobbing grew louder as Rhonda hid her face in her hands.

"We're not certain yet if they are your husband's, but if we could have a photograph or... DNA if possible. Hair from a brush?" Brennan said.

"Do you have children?" Booth asked.

Rhonda sobbed and wiped her nose, composing herself. "Yes. Lane is Graham's son. My step-son."

"That's perfect..." Brennan's eagerness was short-lived when she caught a look from Booth's eye. "As far as a DNA comparison goes."

"I apologize for coming here as we did." Booth said.

Rhonda crossed the room and took a photo album from the shelf, then handed it to Brennan.

Brennan opened the photo album. Pictures of Rhonda with Graham, happy, smiling. Pictures of Rhonda and Lane, smiling, hugging. Graham and Lane, Lane and Rhonda. Rhonda and Graham. "Can I borrow this?" Brennan asked.

Rhonda paused, then said, "Yes. Anything that will help you."

"When was the last time you saw Graham?" Booth asked.

Rhonda seemed to search her memory, then stood and walked over to a calendar. She thumbed through it then turned. "Seven months ago. Seven and a half. Give or take."

Brennan and Booth exchanged suspicious looks. "And you never reported him missing?" Brennan asked.

"Graham's work takes him away from home nine months out of the year. It's not unusual to not hear from him very much, if at all. He's a third assistant engineer--a merchant seaman."

Booth kept his face serious, although the intensity of his stare softened for a moment.

"How was your relationship? Was it especially volitile?" Brennan asked. "Because I can see how working with a man who is quick to argue with you over everything can be overwhelming," she added. The tone in her voice earned a short-lived glare from Booth.

"It--It wasn't perfect, I admit."

"It wasn't?" Booth asked.

"No. Far from it, in fact."

"Would you mind elaborating?" Brennan asked.

"I'll be honest. Completely honest. The last night I saw--" She stopped to keep her voice even and tears at bay. "When Graham comes home... I don't know what to make of it, honestly. I miss him like crazy when he's gone and when he's home he drinks and he hits me, but I still love him-- Does that make me sick?"

"What happened that last night you saw him?" Booth asked.

"That night, Graham got drunk. Not a big surprise, honestly. He got drunk and he... he hit me."

"Did you punch him in the jaw?" Brennan asked, tipping her head to one side.

"Yes, but I didn't kill him! I told him to get out. He got out. After that, I figured he'd spent the night at the motel until he shipped out, which was two days after that... Do I need a lawyer?"

Booth tried to hide the accusatory look from his countenance.

Hey, Cruel to stop now. I need more tos survive another day.

Because I love My Cassiopeia!

Part X

Booth leaned forward and grabbed a handful of red and pink jelly beans from the candy dish in the middle of the coffee table.

Sweets was silent as he observed the body language of the partners. It was fascinating, the interpersonal interactions between the two, but what was even more fascinating was how drastically things had changed in the last two months. After Brennan came back from a dig in some South American country (was it Bolivia? Brazil?), things were very different between the two.

Brennan sat, legs crossed away from Booth, slid as far over on the couch as humanly possible to get away from him. Booth did the same, although he seemed much more relaxed as he popped one bean in his mouth after another.

"May I venture to make an observation?" He asked after twenty minutes had passed.

"Oh, G-d, yes!" Booth remarked, glad for the silence to come to an end. He'd spent plenty of minutes in silence over the past two months.

"I would venture to say that there has been a change in... for lack of a better word, the chemistry between you two."

Neither replied.

"Dr. Brennan, are you mad at Agent Booth?"

She was silent for a second, a second too long, "No."

"And you, Agent Booth... are you mad at Dr. Brennan?"

"No, Sweets."

"Look, guys, I'm your psychiatrist. I'm here to help you out and I can't help you out unless you open up."

"If you're going to ask me to close my eyes and imagine opening up, it ain't happening," Booth said bluntly.

Sweets sighed, then tried another tactic, "Anger is often a response to the perception of threat due to a physical conflict, injustice, humiliation, or betrayal. Now, it's my job to find which of those it was. And I'll pick and I'll prod, and I'll dig until I find out what that betrayal was... It was betrayal, wasn't it?"

Booth squeezed a stress ball in silence, then, "You're way off base there, Sweets."

"Then correct me, Agent Booth. Let me in. Open the doors to your heart."

"There'll be no door opening here, Doogie."

"Let's talk about the responses to anger, huh? There's active, where you just lash out and hit one another and then there's passive, which I can see is the thing that's happening here. Am I wrong? You just don't talk to each other. You're all quiet, but I can see that you're brooding. It's like Anakin, man. Always secretly brooding. Both are normal responses, but the extremes of both are unhealthy. My advice... don't turn to the dark side. Know what I mean?"

Brennan looked completely confused. "No... I don't know. Who's Anakin?"

"Star Wars, Bones," Booth said as he stood up, looking at his watch. "Look, time's up for tonight, Sweets."

Brennan stood with him. Although she copied him, she stood up half a second after he did, almost as if she was no longer reading him in the way she once had. She had no idea why he stood up.

Booth glanced at his cell. "Payton. Dinner tonight."

Whatever half-smile that was on Brennan's face quickly retreated. "Right. I've... I've got a dinner tonight, too. With a man."

Booth looked surprised, although he could tell she was lying. "That's great, Bones."

She quickly walked past him into the hallway. Booth followed her out as he texted on his cell.

"Hey, guys. I didn't say that the session is over. We've still got like, a really long time. Twenty-five minutes to be exact."

The door closed behind them, leaving Sweets mumbling to himself, "Gotta... get a lock on that door."

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Part XI

"Both the timeline and Angela's rendering match Graham Herman," Brennan said as they drove out to the Herman residence. "Cam has DNA results for Lane Herman going through, too."

Booth motioned toward a green folder between the two of them, "Police reports show a lot of domestic 911 calls to the residence."

"Was Herman ever booked?"

"For hitting his wife? Weekly--When he was home, anyway," Booth said.

Sweets was sitting in the back seat, listening carefully, making up time from their truncated interview the night before.

"I mean, what kind of a marriage would that be? Gone three-quarters of year, then beating on your wife the other quarter? Why were they even married?" Booth asked himself.

"Maybe she loved him," Brennan mumbled, which warranted a surprised look from Booth and Sweets. "I mean--Obviously that isn't much of a relationship. The isolation, the anger. It's..."

"Not right," Booth finished.

"Yes."

"Cause of death yet?" Booth asked quietly.

"Besides the fracturing patterns in the mandible and phalanges, there's no other skeletal damage. Cam's tox screens should be finished this morning."

"So," Booth said. "Graham gets drunk, beats his wife, it's the last straw so she... drugs him?"

"It's plausible. She could have also poisoned his food, but that's all conjecture until the tox screen comes in."

"That's not a healthy relationship." Booth furrowed his brow.

"And I suppose you know what a healthy relationship is?" Brennan asked.

Annoyed at Brennan's question, Booth replied, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"I'm sorry, Booth, perhaps you could enlighten me?"

Booth's jaw muscles flexed. "When you care about someone, you work on your relationship. You mend it, mold it, fix it."

Brennan replied rather sarcastically, "Because that's what makes you a man. Fixing things."

"Yeah. It is. Does that offend you, Bones?"

"Yes. It does!" She honestly didn't know if it did, but she just wanted to say negative things to Booth because it felt good. It let out a little bit of that pent up steam.

"You're unbelievable, do you know that?"

"So you've informed me before, Booth," Brennan replied as she looked out the window.

After a few more minutes of silence, Booth looked over at Bones, "What do you call this, Bones?"

Brennan shifted so she was facing him a little more, "Arguing?"

"I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about us. We're in a relationship--some sort... of relationship. Anyway, we're in a relationship, right? We work together to get through stuff because... we care about each other--"

"Or perhaps we have to because of a contract we signed?"

Booth growled. "It's like that in a marriage, you know? When things go wrong, you fix it. You work together to fix it. And it's not because of a piece of paper, it's because..." The fire cooled to a simmer, "Because you love each other."

Sweets was grinning like an idiot in the back seat.

Brennan processed the information rationally, ignoring the familiar tingle running through her body. "So... what you're saying is that... if Graham Herman was a drunken wife-beater, that Rhonda Herman should have taken him to couples counseling?"

"No, Bones," Booth replied softly. "That's not love. You don't--You never lay a hand on a woman. That's not being a man. That's the most cowardly thing a man can ever do."

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Part XII

Sweets looked around Graham Herman's office while Booth snooped around. Brennan was standing in the door, keeping a suspicious eye on Sweets.

Booth sat down at the home computer and turned the computer on.

"What are you doing, Booth?" Brennan walked up behind him, leaning one hand on the back of his seat, and the other on the desk. In the process of doing so and leaning over, her breasts were basically in Booth's face. Booth looked over to her. Brennan immediately stood up straight and crossed her hands over her chest.

"Breaking into the computer."

"Why don't you just ask Mrs. Herman for the password, Booth? Do you always have to exercise your CIA superpowers?"

Booth simply ignored that comment and began typing in passwords while Brennan disappeared from the room.

When she returned, Booth was still typing in random passwords. "I think I've almost got it..."

"Move over." Brennan said.

He looked up, "No. Don't tell me to move over. What the hell's the matter with you?"

She tensed, then laid a foot on the seat and rolled him out of the way. She bent over and with a few quick keystrokes, the computer logged in. "Ten seconds, Booth."

He glared at her, then began looking through the files. "Interesting..."

"What?" Both Sweets and Brennan asked, leaning close.

Booth had opened the pictures folder.

"Oh..." Brennan began.

"My..." Sweets continued.

"G-d." Booth finished.

On the screen were hundreds of files, each of them had a picture of Graham Herman with another woman. Three women total.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Wh--I'd hardly call it paradise to begin with," Brennan replied.

"Whatever is on that computer is going to be of great importance in this case," Sweets said. "I'd get a warrant."

Booth grinned and held up a piece of paper. "Already got it."

"How'd you convince Judge Oleson to sign that before we had any evidence?" Brennan asked, once again with a bit of a snotty tone.

Booth scowled at her. "Maybe I just have my ways."

"Illegal ways?"

"Legal ways, thank you very much. I can do my job, Bones. I've been an investigator a hell of a lot longer than you've been tagging along."

"Tagging along? Is that what you call this?"

"I used to call it a partnership, but now I'm wondering if it's more like Junior High."

"I don't know what that means, but from your tone, I'm assuming that you meant something negative and I don't appreciate it."

"It means that I have to keep volleying your snide comments, Bones."

"Snide?!"

"Yes. Snide. It comes from the Greek and it means that the professor woke up on the wrong side of the bed this... year!"

"It does not. I know the definition."

"If you know the definition, then you should take it and run, Bones. Take it and run."

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you telling me to leave?"

"No. I'm telling you to keep your trap shut."

They stared at each other for several seconds, then Brennan turned. "I'll be waiting in the car."

"Good!"

Brennan peeked back out of the door, "Good!"

"Good," Booth muttered to himself.

"Good!" Brennan yelled from the hallway.

Part XIII

Angela was standing beside Brennan while she looked through a microscope in the Medico-Legal lab.

"Is it strange to give a man chocolate? I mean for Valentines Day, of course," Angela said.

"I've never understood that," Brennan replied.

Cam walked onto the platform, scanned her card and sashayed up to them. "Tox and Blood Results came back. It's definitely Graham Herman. And here's the fun part, he had a blood alcohol level of point-nine-eight."

"Woah," Angela replied. "That guy was smashed!"

Brennan gave her a strange look, then assumed it was a colloquialism for having a high blood alcohol level. "Any other drugs in his system?"

"Nope. Other than that, the tox screen was clean."

"I'll let Booth know." Brennan sighed, then looked back into the microscope.

Cam and Angela exchanged glances.

Cam crossed her arms, then sat on the edge of the lab table. "What are you two doing for Valentine's Day? Anything special?"

Brennan stopped adjusting the fine adjustment knob for a split second, then kept turning.

"Well, for me," Angela said. "I'm going out to dinner with Hodgins."

"Hodgins? Wow."

Angela tilted her head to one side, "It isn't anything romantic. We're both currently single, so we've decided to go out together. As friends. Totally platonic."

Cam smiled in her knowing way.

"And what about you?" Angela asked Cam.

"I'm actually going to the Italian restaurant with Jeff."

"Jeff? And who is this elusive Jeff?" Angela smiled.

"He's FBI, actually. I met him one day that I went to the bureau to have lunch with Booth." The fine adjustment knob froze again.

"Nice! What about you, Bren? What are you doing on Saturday?" Angela asked.

Brennan sighed internally, then looked up at the two women. This must be what it's like to have girlfriends. It was unavoidable, the whole girl-talk thing. "I'm actually considering staying in."

"Staying in? I thought you were going to that Kiss N Tell thingy?"

"That was a fleeting possibility, but now I think I'd rather stay home and get some work done."

"Working on a Saturday? On Valentine's Day? We've got to get you a man, sweetie."

"I don't need a man to have a fulfilling Saturday evening."

After a second, Angela decided to revisit the old subject of chocolate, "So what should I get Hodgins?"

"Chocolates?" Cam asked.

"That's the problem with this holiday," Brennan spoke up, lifting her eyes from the microscope. "Men are always expected to bring a gift to the women. It's so one-sided. And even then, it's chocolate and flowers?"

"It's romantic, sweetie."

"The flowers die and the chocolate makes you gain weight. I would hardly consider that romantic."

"It's because he's thinking of you, Bren."

"I think... if a man were to actually sit down and think, actually use his brain, he would see how faulty those gifts are. He would bring me a potted plant and some fresh fruit. That makes sense. Not chocolate and cut flowers." Brennan looked back down at her microscope.

"Wow, Dr. Brennan, you really have a way with making romance look like smelly gym socks," Cam said, walking away.

"Sometimes you have to look past the gifts themselves and look at what the man is meaning by the gesture. I'm going to go look through that computer." Angela walked off the platform, leaving Brennan alone with her microscope.