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

Part XIV

Brennan got out of the elevator. She walked towards Booth's office and with every step of the way, her stomach twisted into a tighter knot.

And sure enough, it was for good reason. She stopped several yards off and froze in her tracks at the sight of Booth with his arms around Agent Perotta, kissing her. Those same lips that once kissed her. Alright, she was taking things way too personally. She didn't care for Booth in that way, right? And this wasn't jealousy. It was... hurt. Hurt over the fact that she perhaps didn't hold the same place on a scale of importance that she once held in Booth's... schedule. That was it.

While Booth was kissing Payton, he happened to glance up. Call it a sixth sense. Call it being ridiculously close to your platonic partner for too long. Either way, he looked up and saw Brennan watching them. He immediately broke the kiss and hugged Payton in a playful way, then... he patted her on the shoulder. "I'll talk to you later," he grinned. Why did he just do that? He actually patted her on the shoulder like she had a penis?!

Perotta gave him a strange look, but smiled anyway. "OK, then. I'll see you tonight, Seeley."

Brennan quickly sat at a nearby desk and looked inconspicuous by holding a piece of paper up in front of her face.

Payton turned and walked through the bureau. Male agents watched her hind-quarters as she flounced past them.

Booth walked up to Brennan, hands in pockets. She didn't look up. He reached out and lowered the paper. "Hey, Bones."

Two blue eyes peeked up from behind the white sheet. "Hey. I--Didn't want to disturb your... conference... with Agent Perotta. So--"

"Why are you here?"

"The tox screen came back."

"And?"

"Apparently Graham Herman was 'smashed'... which I assume is a colloquialism for inebriated. His blood alcohol level was point-nine-eight. At 180 pounds, it's a miracle--and I use that term loosely--that he..." Brennan paused as a few pieces of the puzzle were put together in her mind.

"That he what, Bones?"

"It may have been an accident. He may have OD'ed on alcohol."

"But why would he have been stuffed into a storm sewer, Bones?"

"Good point. But with that level of inebriation, he would have been easily taken down. He may have even simply passed out."

"The killer found him, and pushed him into the drain."

"He would have drowned easily. Even in less than three inches of liquid, he could have drowned. Drunks have drowned in their own vomit before. It's not unheard of."

Booth couldn't help but to picture a drunk person laying in a pool of his own vomit. Eew. Booth's cell rang. "Booth."

"It's Cam. Is Dr. Brennan with you?" Cam was in Angela's office, talking on her cell.

"Yeah."

"I think you should come over here. Angela found something interesting on the computer that was confiscated from the Herman residence."

"What is it?"

"You'll have to see it to believe it."

Yes long time no speak...anyway

Ahh!!! Sarah, this story is so good. I love it. It's getting better and better. Great writing from you once again.

Smiling, enjoying this one too Mama.

Aww thank you both!!!

Part XV

"What did you find, Ange?" Brennan asked as they walked into Angela's office where she, Cam, and Hodgins were standing around looking at Angela's computer screen.

"I hooked up Graham Herman's computer tower to my screen. Check this out," Angela said.

Booth and Brennan glanced curiously at one another, then walked around so they could both see what Angela was looking at.

"Is that... a love letter?" Booth asked.

Brennan looked momentarily over to Booth. Did he have much experience in writing love letters that he would recognize one so quickly?

"I recovered deleted files. Turns out it was a gold mine for infidelity," Angela said.

"Dear-- Sweetums?" Booth read. "My heart is empty without you. I want you in my arms. I want to hold you, kiss you, make love to you once more. Blah, blah, blah... Love, Snookums? Alright, the nicknames make me nauseous, but--"

"Who said that the letters were about infidelity?" Brennan finished the sentence Booth wanted to ask. "Perhaps Graham and Rhonda were writing one another?"

"Look at this line," Angela pointed, then read, "I want to run away with you. Why would they want to run away with one another when they were already married?"

"Maybe they wanted to spice things up?" Cam asked.

"No. It doesn't fit," Brennan replied. "I got the distinct impression that neither were interested in spicing things up in their marriage," Brennan shook her head.

"I'm pretty sure Rhonda Herman had the divorce lawyer on speed dial," Booth said. "But that's not necessarily a smoking gun."

"He hit her, Booth. You were right when you said 'what kind of a marriage was that?' I think Angela's right. This is a letter from one of the Hermans to a lover."

"So who was it from? Rhonda or Graham?"

"Angela recovered photos of Graham with other women."

"So, we'll find those women, and ask them if they were Sweetums." Booth smiled. "Thanks, Ange."

Booth walked toward the door and turned when Brennan said, "Booth."

"Yeah?" He turned.

Angela, Cam, and Hodgins watched with silent interest.

Brennan saw Agent Perotta walking through the main doors of the Medico-Legal lab over Booth's shoulder. "Never mind."

"What, Bones?" Booth asked, still oblivious of Perotta's presence.

Brennan breathed in deeply, hoping for some strength. "When you find the women, I'd like to help you interrogate them."

Booth smiled and walked toward her with that cocky/flirty smile on his face. "Of course, Bones. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good. Because... I'd like to remain involved... in this case, that is." She couldn't help but to smile back at him.

Unfortunately, just as things had begun to feel a tad like they used to, Payton walked through the door. "Seeley."

Cam, Angela, and Hodgins looked between the three, mainly between Booth and Brennan. Brennan looked to her feet quickly.

Booth smiled at Payton and kissed her lightly on the lips when she reached him.

"I was hoping you'd want to grab a bite to eat? That apple pie at the diner is fabulous."

Brennan looked up, catching her breath. He had taken her to the diner and fed her pie? She tried to erase the hurt look on her face, then she walked past them. "I have to review Wendell's work. Excuse me."

Booth watched silently as Brennan walked out of sight. "Sure, Payton." They walked out of the lab, his arm around Payton's shoulder, her arm around his waist.

"I'm going to go over the clothing," Hodgins said, also leaving the room, obviously escaping the tension.

Angela finally came back to reality when the room had cleared, leaving she and Cam alone. "Was I the only one who saw that?"

"No," Cam said.

"That apple pie remark was low."

"Good thing I'm a coroner. I'm trained for these kinds of messes."

"Let's just agree to not leave Bren alone with Perotta."

"Deal."

Part XVI

Sweets, Brennan, and Booth looked through the two-way glass at a woman, twenty-five, wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. A regular looking woman.

"Honor Rylan," Booth said to Brennan. "I'm not too sure on the details yet, but she was definitely in the photos recovered by Angela."

"How much younger is she than Graham Herman?"

"Thirteen years."

Brennan rolled her eyes.

Booth saw it. "There. There it is again. That eye-roll. What was that one about?"

"I don't know what you mean," Brennan said, suppressing a smile.

"Bones, just tell me what's got your panties in a twist this time."

That got her attention, "What's got my panties in a twist? What's got my pant--I'll tell you what's got my panties in a twist, Booth. Look at her. It's no surprise that she's half his age. I can't believe that they would find very much in common. It was all about sex."

Booth tried not to smile at the fact that his partner had finally caught onto the whole sex vs making love concept. "Maybe they enjoyed the same recreational activities?"

"Like what?" Brennan asked.

"I don't know, Bones... penukle."

"You think they bonded over a card game designed for senior citizens?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's doubtful in this case. It was purely physical. It's clear as daylight."

"Clear as day, Bones."

Brennan glared at him, then turned toward the glass, "There are other things to find attractive in a mate. You know, other than.." She looked over at Honor Rylan and muttered, "Fake breasts."

Booth's jaw muscles were working by that point. He leaned really close to Brennan, resting a hand behind her head, echoing a distant memory at the shooting range, "Just tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me," she replied, her eyes narrowing.

"Something's up. And you're going to tell me."

"Am I?" She huffed. At the same time, however, she was beginning to feel a little dizzy from his proximity to her.

"Yes. And you know why? Because we're partners and we share everything. Everything, Bones." With that, Booth left the side room and entered the interrogation room.

Honor looked up as Booth entered the interrogation room.

As the interrogation commenced, Sweets looked over at Dr. Brennan. "Can I ask you a question, Dr. Brennan?"

"No, you may not."

"You seem especially irritable," Sweets said. Wrong thing to say. You never say to a woman that she's irritable. That's just a fact.

Brennan glared at him.

"What's bothering you?"

Through gritted teeth, Brennan said, "Nothing is bothering me. Agent Booth is just a pompous ass."

Sweets shook his head as he approached Brennan. "Nah. That's not it. Agent Booth's personality is the same now as it ever was. Whatever is bothering you has something to do with this change in dynamic between you two."

"As it turns out, you're wrong. Agent Booth has changed."

"Or, perhaps you have changed?"

"Are you saying that this is my fault? By way of some psychological assumption, no doubt."

"Dr. Brennan, it seems that you've been especially irked by Agent Booth in the past--six to eight weeks. Does it have something to do with his new-found relationship with Agent Perotta?"

Brennan stood up a little straighter. "Why don't you leave your psychological guesswork in the office, Dr. Sweets?" She walked past him, deciding she would rather wait in the waiting lounge rather than being cooped up in a room with a twelve year old.

Sweets pouted, "I was... just trying to help."

In the interrogation room, Booth was still talking to Honor Rylan. Booth had found out two things by that point. She was sleeping with Graham Herman and she had basically no motive.

"I didn't care for Graham enough to kill him. I know what you're thinking. That I killed him because I loved him? I don't think so. He was a good lay. That's it. We got together a few times a month. That's it."

"Where were you on July 2nd?"

"You're joking right?"

"Do you have an alibi?"

She sighed and leaned back. "I... I worked for a kids camp last summer. I'm pretty sure I started at the end of June."

"Pretty sure?" Booth narrowed his gaze.

"Positive, OK? Is that good enough for you? Look, I didn't give a shit for Graham Herman. He had a big cock. That's all. I didn't kill him. OK? Why would I ruin my life to kill a man that I didn't care about. Look, I watch CSI and shit. I know that they always catch you. Why would I risk it?"

Awesome writing Sarah. Keep it up.

Thanks!!!

Part XVII

Booth left the interrogation room and saw his partner sitting at the window seat, legs crossed, pealing the thin 'skin' from a peanut.

"Bones?" He asked as he walked toward her.

"Booth." She stood up, pushing the peanut into her slacks.

"You didn't watch the interrogation?"

"I've watched interrogations before, Booth. I could tell that she was innocent."

Booth narrowed his gaze at her. She was lying. He smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they walked out of the Hoover Building. "You gotta work on that poker face, Bones."

"Wh--I'm a good liar!"

"No, you're not. I can read you like a book. A book I've spilled coffee on." He smiled down on her.

"You have your good days," she said, smiling at him.

As they walked past through the building, they passed the kitchenette.

Payton was stirring a hot cup of tea. She grabbed a little container of creamer and poured it in, stirred it. The creamy white swirls danced in the chocolate brown liquid. She sniffed the steam. It smelled good... A lot like a certain FBI agent who liked a good cup of black coffee.

Caroline Julian walked in and began to warm up a cup of tea. The two women smiled at one another. The truth was, Caroline Julian did not like the perky blonde agent. As kind as she was, Caroline had the distinct feeling that the woman was slathering it on just a little too thick.

"Agent Perotta," Caroline said, nodding, hoping that no other conversation would be initiated.

"Hello, Caroline," Payton grinned.

Caroline only blinked. The microwave beeped, she opened it, stirred, then took her leave as quickly as possible.

"Excuse me," Payton said. "Some people really need to learn some manners," she sighed, then leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee. Just as the mug lowered, she watched as Booth walked by, his arm around Brennan's shoulders.

Payton froze, then immediately walked to the office down the hall and barged right in.

"You!"

Sweets nearly spilled the coffee that was in his hand. It sloshed around in the mug. Brownish streaks slipped down the sides. He began coughing and finally got a hold of himself enough to look up to see who was yelling at him. "Uh... Agent Perotta, right?"

Perotta put her hands on her hips. Few people walked all over this woman and it was clear from her confident posture. She put her hands on her hips and stared Sweets down. "I need to talk to you pronto. OK, amigo?"

"I--I'm just about to see a patient. I think I can clear my schedule... How's Thursdays?"

Perotta glared at him, then walked over and sat at the chair across from Sweets' desk. "You're Seeley's shrink, right?"

For a moment, things went through Sweets' mind. Perotta + Booth... Perotta+BoothTesty Brennan. "You're here about...?"

"Let's just cut to the chase here, Sweets." Perotta crossed her legs. For a moment, Sweets lost his train of thought and his eyes grew wide. No wonder Agent Booth was seeing this woman! She was hot to the power of ten! She tossed a golden lock over her shoulder. "I need some information, and you've got that information, so we're going to play a little game called, I Ask You A Question, You Answer Or Die."

Sweets shook his head adamantly. "I'm sorry, Agent Perotta, but doctor-patient confidentiality--"

Perotta scrunched her brow. "Give me a little credit here, Sweets. I'm not going to break your little code of ethics. I just have one question for you."

"As long as it has nothing to do with any of my patients."

She glared him down for a moment, then decided to take another tactic. The FBI Agent tactic. She'd get the information from Sweets. "As you may well know, Agent Booth and I have been involved for some time."

"I may have seen you two around the off--"

Beautiful and straightforward as she was, Perotta was determined to kick it into Agent mode, "Can it Sweets. I happen to know that you have been Booth and Brennan's psychiatrist for going on two years now--" As creepy as it is that they're in couples counseling but strictly platonic...

"That's true, yes." Sweets didn't quite know what to make of this.

"Did I ask you to speak?"

Sweets shook his head.

Perotta leaned forward, pulling the sensual card, "I think we're all friends here at the FBI, right? So just answer one little question for me honestly. Can you do that, Sweets? Honesty?"

"Agent Perotta, I pride myself on honesty, but if your question crosses the boundary of confidentiality--"

"Right. I get it. You can't tell me anything that has to do with their therapy sessions. But you can tell me about their time together outside of therapy sessions."

"Agent--"

"Just chill homey, OK? Just answer me one question--" Payton was internally turning off Agent Mode and turning on Girlfriend Mode--a very dangerous place to be-- "Would you consider their interactions purely... professional?"

Sweets sighed and stood up, rounding the desk to Agent Perotta and leaned against the desk. "I assure you that Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan have been nothing but professional."

"Meaning they haven't slept together," Perotta tipped her head to the side.

"Of course that's what I meant."

"That's what I thought," Perotta sighed. In a lot of ways, that was worse than being told that they had slept together. Sexual tension and putting things like that on a sexual pedestal can often times make all other interactions bland in comparison. Would she ever be able to measure up to the standard that Dr. Brennan had created in Booth's heart? Either way, the whole relationship seemed doomed. Except for the sex part. That was great. But something told her in her heart that it couldn't always be sex. And, it seemed, that Booth knew that, too.

Agent Payton Perotta was never used to being second in anything. She had taken track in high school and had always been feverishly competitive. She was first to cross the finish line. First in her high school class, top of her class at Fort Benning. Being second in Seeley Booth's heart might as well have been like being dead last.

Perotta stood with a bit of a hurt look on her face. Why did this have to happen in February? Note to self, begin doomed relationships in mid to late summer. Trying to keep from bursting into un-Perotta-like tears, she said, "Thanks a lot, Sweets."

"Uh..." Sweets stood. Perotta turned. "Did I help? I helped, right? I mean, Agent Booth's a nice guy and all, but I've been warned in advance that if I butted in too much he would break my nose, so..."

Perotta smiled softly and patted Sweets on the shoulder, "You helped. Thanks."

Sweets sighed as he watched Perotta leave the office, fully believing that he had done the right thing to avoid bodily injury via Agent Booth.

I love it. Keep going...very well done

great story so far!

does this mean bye bye to agent pp

Thanks for the reviews... we'll find out about PP soon. ;P

Part XVIII

"Contestant Number Three," Booth said as they stood as they were two days before, looking out at a young woman in her twenties through the two-way glass of the interrogation room. "Shevaun Carlisle, 22, works at Mickey D's."

"The third woman in the photographs," Brennan remarked. "Whatever happened to the second woman?"

"Ashley Ulric," Booth said tightly. All day, he had been avoiding eye contact with Brennan, which was making whatever steam that had been pent up from before dissipate. "I questioned her this morning. I figured you wouldn't wanna come."

"Of course I would, Booth. I asked you the other day if I could be here to help you interrogate these women. You said yes."

Booth finally looked into her eyes. There was something there that she couldn't put her finger on. Was he mad at her? Sure, she had been treating him terribly, but... "Sorry, Bones."

He turned and walked out. In the doorway, Brennan said, "Booth."

He turned.

"Are you OK?" She asked.

He only tightened his lips into a mirthless grin, then walked out.

Brennan watched as he entered the interrogation room. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. Jeez, what a horrible feeling, making someone you care for angry at you. Now she owed him an apology for being so terrible.

Shevaun, a young African American woman with unusually large bright green eyes, looked up at Booth and smiled as he sat down.

"I admit it," the woman said. "I forgot to pay a couple of parking tickets. Does that seriously deserve being dragged to the J. Edgar building?"

Booth sighed, "Do you know Graham Herman?"

"Is that what this is about?"

"Yes. Do you know the man?" Booth didn't feel like beating around the bush that much that day.

"Sure. We were together last year for a bit. Don't worry, we aren't together any more. He hasn't hit me since. That was it for me, OK? I told him to hit the road after that. I'm no piece of meat."

"How often did he hit you?"

"He hit me once. And that was it. Once is too much, my mama said."

"Did you ever hit him back?"

Shevaun made a face, "No. It was like I said. He hit me once. I told him to pack his bags. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out, you know?"

"Did you know that Herman was married?"

"I get it now. I see what it's about. Rhonda's suing me? The bitch."

"Miss Carlisle, Graham Herman is dead."

A horrified look crossed her face, "You think I killed him?"

"You're a suspect, yes."

"I didn't kill him. I can tell you that. What's that thing--? Motive. I have no motive. After he hit me, he was out of there. I never looked back. I'm engaged to be married. To a rich, wonderful guy. Why would I even think about that scuzzbag ever again?" Shevaun held out her hand which bore a glittery diamond. "Last I saw Herman was last April. I told him that it was over."

"Where were you on July 2nd?"

"The Caribbean with my fiance Robert. I'll show you the trip stuff. I wasn't even in the country!"

Part XIX

Booth and Brennan were driving back to the Herman residence.

After several minutes of tense silence, Brenann spoke, "Are you angry with me?"

Booth looked over at her, then back at the road, then back at her, then back to the road as he mulled over what he should say, "I'm not mad at you, Bones."

"Maybe you're mad at me subconsciously?"

Booth smiled, "You don't even believe in that. You said so yourself."

"But you do. Sometimes when you believe in something even a little bit it has a hold on you."

"That's not it, Bones," he replied softly. It was like the fire was out, which was driving Brennan crazy. What in the world was wrong with Booth?

"I'm sorry I've been so malapert lately, Booth."

He looked over at her. "That means snippy, right?"

Brennan smiled a bit, "I don't know what came over me. Perhaps I did wake up on the wrong side of the bed this year."

Booth smiled at her, "You've never woken up on the wrong side of the bed, Bones. I'm sorry I said that."

"No. You were right, Booth. I was brazen and rude. You didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of my attitude problem."

"I'm kinda used to it," Booth said, grinning.

She was too glad to have an actual conversation with the man to feel annoyed at that comment. "So, when are you going to tell me what happened?"

"I'm not sure I even wanna talk about it."

"I thought we were partners, Booth. We talk. That's what we do." Then Brennan grinned mischievously, "Open the doors to your heart, Booth. Just close your eyes and imagine them opening."

Booth chuckled at the Sweets reference, then he grew serious. "Payton and I fought last night."

Brennan's grin disappeared, too. It was good to know that things weren't perfect between the two, but it pained her to see Booth so distressed. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK, Bones." After a pause, he added, "It's just--sometimes I wonder if I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life. That's just not the way I pictured it, you know?"

Brennan studied his face for a few seconds. He look so hurt. "You'll never be alone, Booth."

Booth smiled over at Brennan.

"Did you break up?"

Booth shook his head, "No, but it's probably on the horizon."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thanks, Bones."

"Do you... want to talk about it? I mean--It's either me or Sweets." She smiled encouragingly.

Booth hesitated. She was right. Who else would he talk about this with? Not with Payton. Certainly not with Sweets. Why not with the woman he considered to be his best friend? "What we have here, Bones-- It's special, you know? It's different. Not a lot of people understand that."

She looked up. So they had been fighting about her? "Booth, I--"

"Bones. You don't have to say anything," Booth seemed to be thinking about a million things as he drove, a strained look in his eyes. "She just... thinks that you and I are more... more than partners. I told her that we're just partners... Like I always say," Booth broke a small smile across his face with that last phrase. "She's right, you know. We're not just--just partners," Booth said. Brennan looked up, surprised. "We're friends, too. We're good friends and--and... Let's--Let's just not talk about this... any more."

"Sure, Booth," Brennan replied softly.

Ahhh!!! I love it You are seriously a talented writer Great job. Can't wait for more. And I think it's time that Booth and PeePee woman break up...and a certain Forensic Anthropologist take over PeePee woman's place.

I want more! Its getting interesting!

Awwwwwwwwwwww

Wow thank you all!

Part XX

Later that evening, Hodgins found Angela where he had seen her everyday for most of that week: Sitting next to her computer, looking through file after file of love letters and photographs.

"Hey, Ange."

"Hey, Hodgins."

"Find anything yet?"

Angela looked up and smiled at him. "Whoever these two people were, they were definitely trying to be secretive. They never use names, never name places. Nicknames, code names..." She sighed and sat back. "I'm getting a migraine."

Hodgins smiled sympathetically, "Sorry. Hey, I got you something."

Angela sat up, "I thought we said no gifts?"

"It's a holiday, Angie. Lighten up."

OK, Valentine's Day should count as a holiday, right? Besides, she had been considering getting him a Valentine, plus they were friends... "What did you get me?"

Hodgins walked over and sat on the edge of her desk, then pulled out a card from his back pocket. It was tucked into an envelope with 'Angie' written on the front.

Angela took the envelope and opened it up, The front page had two ladybugs and it said, "Be My..." Angela turned the page and on the inside it said "Love Bug." She smiled, "Cute, Hodgins."

"Hey," Hodgins laughed defensively. "I thought it was appropriate. Although, they didn't draw the Coccinella septempunctata very accurately. But I thought it was cute, too," he grinned flirtaciously. "So, did you get me something?"

Angela smiled, "I'll tell you what. I'll go out and scoop up the first dog mess I see and bring it back in a Ziploc bag for you."

Hodgins seemed to consider the offer, hiding the smile from his face, "Is it a fresh one or one of the crumbly white ones?"

Angela laughed at him. "Which would you prefer?"

"Eh... somewhere in the middle."

Changing the subject, Angela asked, "Where are we going to dinner on Saturday?"

"L'Auberge Chez François."

Angela's smile disappeared, she crossed her arms and tiled her head to one side, "That's way too expensive, Hodgins."

"You're joking, right?"

"No. I mean, I know how much money you have, but that doens't matter. L'Auberge Chez François is a place that you take someone you're dating."

"It's Valentine's Day, Ange. Did you think I'd take you to Chick-Fil-A?"

Angela sighed, "Fine, but I'm ordering something cheap."

"Nothing's cheap on that menu. They don't even have a menu."

"Then I'll ask for water."

"Just water?"

"Yes."

"You realize that they charge you for the water, right?"

"Fine. But... Fine."

Hodgins grinned at her and stood up. He walked out of the office leaving Angela thinking. Why was it so difficult to stay friends with this man? Maybe they were making it difficult on purpose. They could be friends. Bren and Booth have been just friends.

"Ha. Yeah, right," she muttered to herself as she got back to work.

Sarah. I think you love us all! LOL. But you need to get BB together and Hodgins and Angela together too. Come on I know you know how to. I've seen you do it before. Now make me happy Great writing like always

Thanks Nicole!
And here's my fabulously shocking chapter... hehehe

Part XXI

"Angela, you called?" Brennan asked as she and Booth walked into her office.

"Well, after four doses of Excedrin and six cups of coffee, I actually found something that might be pertinent to your case," Angela replied, leaning back and rubbing her temples.

"It's not safe to mix coffee and Excedrin. Excedrin is already caffeinated," Brennan said.

Angela didn't reply.

Booth leaned over and read the letter that was on the desktop. He frowned, "I don't get it."

Brennan leaned over, hoping she would be able to see something Booth didn't see, but she didn't see anything, either. "What about it, Ange?"

"I recovered this letter from the hard drive. Whoever wrote it had erased it. Then I found something interesting. I--" She looked up at Booth, "I'm not sure if I was allowed to legally--"

"Don't worry about it, I'll get you the clearance."

Relieved, Angela looked back at the computer, "I tapped into Rhonda Herman's email. I found that letter in her Messages Received file."

Brennan made a face, "So... she wrote the letters herself?"

"That's what I can't make sense of," Angela said. "The letters were written on this computer, but then emailed to Rhonda? I don't get it, either. I figured that you'd be able to make more sense of it than I can."

"Graham Herman wrote the letters to his own wife?" Brennan asked.

Angela shook her head, "That's impossible. You said that Graham Herman was away at sea nine months of the year."

"So?" Booth asked.

"This file here," Angela tapped at the love letter, "Was created in February. No matter how you place that three month window, he was out to sea when that letter was written."

"Nice job, Ange," Brennan said.

Angela smiled. It was nice to finally get some positive feedback from Brennan. She'd been such a downer of late.

Booth was silently thinking it over.

"What are you thinking, Booth?" Brennan asked.

"Somebody in the household was writing love letters to Rhonda Herman. It wasn't Graham Herman. I sincerely doubt it was Rhonda Herman to herself. So, that leaves one person..."

Brennan's eyes grew wider as realization set in, "Lane Herman!"

Angela grinned and laughed, "What? Sweetums was doing his mommy?"

"Step-mommy," Brennan corrected.

Booth looked disgusting, "That's just nasty."

"Well, it isn't completely unheard of," Brennan said. Both Angela and Booth gave her a shocked look. "What? There are countless cases throughout literature and history. Take Oedipus Rex for example."

"Oedipus Rex? That's what you get for dating women twice your age," Booth said.

"He was completely incognizant of his actions. It wasn't like he chose to have a sexual relationship with his mother on purpose."

"I'm sorry, Bones. That's just wrong beyond wrong."

"I'm not saying it's right. I'm just saying that it isn't completely outrageous."

"Oh. It's outrageous," Booth said nodding.

"I'm with Booth on this one, sweetie," Angela nodded.

"Ancient Egypt prided itself on incestuous unions to keep the wealth in the family. Is that so crazy, Booth?"

"Crazy. And insane. Not to mention disgusting."

"And then there's Lot and his daughters," Brennan added, one brow raised.

Booth's brows shot northward. "No. You're not bringing the Bible in on this one, too, Bones."

"Now you're just being ridiculous, Booth. You have no control over what was written in that book."

"Lot was drunk and his daughters basically tricked him into sleeping with them. That's a far cry from a young man sleeping with his mommy. On purpose."

"Step-mommy. They don't even share DNA."

"Still nasty, Bones," Booth said, walking toward the door. "Let's go find Lot... I mean, Lane."

"See? You slipped. Freud, Booth!"

"You don't even believe in psychology, Bones." Booth said as they walked out of the office. Angela laughed to herself as she listened their arguing.

"You're being irrational, Booth."

"Me? Irrational? You're basically saying that you condone this relationship?"

"Possible relationship. We haven't even talked to Lane Herman yet."

"Oh. It's him, Bones. It's him," Booth said with a shudder.

Haha! That was awesome. Nice lovely twist in the story. Although a tad weird...lol. still fantastically awesome Keep up the great work

LOL I was aiming for strange and unusual! Glad to hear I hit the nail on the head!
Part XXII

Standing with Brennan and Booth in the viewing room, Sweets tried to hold back a surprised/disgusted laugh, "What? She was doing her son?" He gestured at Rhonda Herman through the two-way glass.

Brennan gave returned the surprised look, "That's exactly what Angela said. Well--She said, 'doing his mommy,' but you get the idea."

"Nasty," Sweets said.

Booth perked up, "Hear that, Bones? Nasty." He held out his fist for Sweets, who tickled pink to at the offer. He reached out and bumped the fist like it was Christmas morning.

"We don't even know all of the details yet," Brennan said.

"In my experience, Bones, when people have one thing to hide, they usually have a lot more skeletons in the closet."

"Skeletons?"

"Things to hide. Besides, I've got a feeling about Lane Herman."

"Let me guess. Your gut's talking to you?"

"Yes, Bones, my gut."

"Oh Kay." She walked out of the interview room and entered the interrogation room.

"You're not interviewing Rhonda Herman, Agent Booth?"

Booth smiled, "Nah. I'm gonna give this one to Bones."

Sweets studied Booth's face. Something was different. Wrong? Right?

Rhonda looked up at Brennan as she entered the interrogation.

Brennan sat down and sat the green file folder on the table and they began talking.

Sweets turned toward Booth. "What happened between you and Agent Perotta? She didn't say anything about me, right? Because she was lying if she did."

Booth gave him a curious look. "Nothing happened."

"Agent Booth, I'm trained in telling if somebody is lying and I can tell that you're lying."

Booth sighed, "We fought."

"But she didn't say my name?"

"No, Sweets. Why would she say your name? No. She--she was just upset. She thinks that Brennan and I are more than partners."

"Yeah? And how did that go?"

"She broke up with me."

"She--she did?"

"Yeah, but don't say anything to Brennan."

"Why?"

Booth smiled thoughtfully, "I was planning on going to Bones' place on Saturday. You know, surprise her. She said she's going to the bar, but... I think I know better by now.."

Sweets gasped, "You didn't tell Dr. Brennan that you broke up with Agent Perotta?"

"First of all, Sweets. She broke up with me. Second of all, I--I was already planning on going over to Brennan's anyway. I don't want her to think that I'm going over there because I'm lonely or heartsick or any of that."

"That's very honorable of you Agent Booth."

"Honorable nothing. Bones is my friend. End of story. Now let's just listen to the interrogation, OK? Leave the shrinky stuff for your hour sessions."

Sweets smiled and watched the interview through the two-way glass.

"Did you need to know something else?" Rhonda asked. "I--I thought I told you everything I know."

"Funny that you say everything."

"I... don't understand."

"Let's start with July 2nd, Mrs. Herman. You said you argued with your husband that night?"

"Yes. We fought."

"It became physical?"

"Yes. I already told you all of this."

"Where was Lane during all of this?"

"Wh--Lane? Why do you want to know about Lane?"

"We have reason to believe that he may know more than we had originally thought. Where is your son?"

"Step-son," Rhonda corrected. The correction made Brennan narrow her eyes at her. "He--He has a place of his own now."

"Why were there video game controls splayed all over the living room when we went to your place?"

"I told you I hadn't gotten to clean up."

"Why?"

"He... He spends the night... some nights. He visits."

"Does he?" Brennan opened the folder and slid the letters around so she could view them. "Do these look familiar to you?"

The woman faltered.

"Are you Snookums?"

"No!"

"This was found in your email inbox. The letters were written on your computer. How is it that the letters got from your computer to your email? I doubt you were writing yourself love letters."

"Don't be ridiculous. Graham wrote those letters to me. We were trying to spice things up. And you have no business reading my personal email."

"I have a warrant that says otherwise," Brennan said, echoing Booth. "And this letter was written in April. Your husband was at sea when that letter was written... on your computer, to you."

Rhonda looked like she had been backed into a corner. "I--I think I'd like a lawyer now."

Clammed up by the lawyer excuse, Brennan left the room.

Part XXIII

Sitting at the diner, Booth took a sip of his coffee. "I've got my guys looking for Lane Herman. He can't be that hard to bring in. Good coffee."

The waitress walked up, smiled at the familiar couple and laid a plate of french fries in front of Booth and a milk shake in front of Brennan.

"Thank you," Brennan said. The waitress nodded and walked off silently.

"Mmm," Booth grabbed a ketchup bottle, squirted the sauce on the plate, and began to dip a fry. He popped it into his mouth.

"Do you know that french fries contain a chemical called acrylamide?"

Booth dipped another fry, stuck it into his mouth. "And what does that mean for me, Bones?"

"The British Journal of Cancer, the Journal of the American Medical Association, and World Health Organization, among others, have all noted its link to cancer. And those fries contain copious amounts."

Booth smiled and dipped another fry and put it in his mouth.

"You could be killing yourself with every bite, Booth."

He dipped again. Ate the fry. "Bones, you've gotta live a little. Life is about living."

"Technically... you're right. Life is about living, but those french fries are terribly unhealthy."

Booth smiled and pushed the plate toward her. "Have a fry, Bones."

"No."

"Have a fry. You know you wanna taste it. Mmm it's so gooood."

"Acrylamide?"

"You've eaten my fries before, Bones. You've invited yourself on my fries before. It's like any other time."

Brennan decided to change the subject, "What are you doing on Saturday, Booth? I know that Agent Perotta is working."

Booth sighed and dropped the fry subject. "Staying in."

"That sounds nice."

"Yeah, it does, Bones," Booth said with a bit of a dejected look.

"Are you... going to eat that?" Brennan said with a smile, looking at Booth's fries.

Booth looked up and smiled.

Brennan reached over and picked out a fry, which she popped into her mouth. "Good fries."

"Acrylamide?" Booth asked.

"You've gotta live, Booth. A little acrylamide never hurt anybody. You know--besides lab rats."

"Poor Mickey," Booth said, reaching for a fry.

"Poor Minnie," Brennan said, reaching for another fry.

"We should send Walt a gift basket."

"A fruit basket sounds nice. And you can use your CIA superpowers to find which Cryogenic Facility he's in."

"Walt Disney was cremated, Bones." Booth reached for another fry as Brennan took a sip from her chocolate milkshake.

"Wh--I was being farcical and preposterous." She took a thoughtful bite, then, "You know, we shouldn't make light of animal cruelty. It's horrible."

Booth grinned and reached for Brennan's milkshake, taking a sip.

She hit his hand. "Hey, that's mine!"

"What's mine is yours and yours is mine, Bones." Booth smiled and leaned forward.

Brennan leaned into the table. "Is that in our contract, too, Booth?"

"Section 4 Paragraph 3 Line 8, Bones."

"Now you're the one that's being farcical," she said, returning the flirtatious smile Booth was beaming at her. She took the milkshake and took a sip, not even caring that it was from the very straw that Booth had just taken a sip from.

WOW! I love it keep it coming. You're doing awesome. The whole step-son mother thing. yeah diffinitely strange and unusually. AND yay Booth Bones banter LOVE Write more now...please

Ewwwwwwwww, step son that is just *shudders
and then
Awwwwwwwww, B&B fluffy goodness.

I love the speed of this story Mama.

Thanks! Tomorrow is Fluff Day!

Part XXIV

Booth whistled as he looked through a tan-colored file. He and Brennan were walking through the Hoover Building. "This guy's got a record longer than... I don't know, longer than what, Bones?" He turned and pushed the door open with his back.

"The Bang Na Expressway." She walked through the open door.

Booth gave her a questioning look.

"It's the longest bridge in the world. Over 54,000 meters."

Booth's brows shot up and he grinned, "Nice one, Bones."

"What does the rip sheet say?" Brennan peeked over his shoulder.

"Rap sheet, Bones. Petty theft, grand larceny, grand theft auto--" Booth paused to grin. Brennan gave him a curious look. Why had he found that amusing? "Attempted kidnapping, felony assault. This guy's one bad mo."

She ignored that. "What are you thinking happened?"

They paused in front of the interrogation room. Booth pulled out a picture from the file that he had tucked in there. A photograph of Rhonda and Lane looking a little too cozy for step-mother and step-son.

"Where'd you get that?" Brennan took the picture from his hand.

"Angela found it in the photo album. I'm thinking that Herman came home a little wasted, hit the wife. She tells him to leave. He leaves. Lane goes after him."

"He wanted to protect Rhonda."

"They throw a few punches--"

"Graham Herman goes down easily because he's so intoxicated."

"He may have passed out cold, Lane thought he'd killed the guy, so he removes the sewer grate and pushes the body in."

"But it's not a smoking gun, Booth."

"True, but I've got my ways. Legal ways, Bones."

"I didn't say I thought otherwise."

They entered the interrogation room.

Lane Herman sat behind the desk. He wore blue jeans and a polo tee shirt. Lane Herman sat behind the desk. He wore blue jeans and a polo tee shirt. He was well manicured and quite handsome for being a young bachelor in his twenties.

Brennan and Booths took their seats.

"We know you did it, Lane." Booth said.

The man looked up. "What?"

"Let's talk about July 2nd," Booth said.

"I--I didn't kill my dad. I swear."

"You sure did get to that fast."

"Look, I'm not stupid. I'm a computer software engineer. I'm twenty-two. I'm not a moron."

"You don't have to be a moron to kill somebody, Mr. Herman."

"Don't call me that. I'm Lane. Herman was my father. I don't associate myself with that name."

"We have forensic evidence linking you to the scene of the crime," Brennan said.

"What evidence?"

"Hair, fibers--"

"I lived with the man of course my hair's gonna be on him."

"Neighbors who put you with your father that night throwing punches," Booth said.

Brennan took her cue, "He was intoxicated. He came in, hit Rhonda a few times. She throws him out. You follow him--"

"The rest is history, Lane. You try to stop him, make him pay for what he did to your--whatever you call her--"

"Lover," Brennan supplied.

Lane made a coughing sound, "What? You think Rhonda is my lover? That's--That's sick."

"Is it?" Brennan asked.

Booth slid the letters across the table. "Is it, Schmoopsy-Poo?"

"One of our experts found the same letters sent from your email to Rhonda's email," Brennan said.

Lane began to breathe heavily. "You're wrong!"

"You hit him, he fell." Brennan.

"Then you kicked his body into a storm drain." Booth.

Lane stood up, "You're wrong!"

"Then you should clarify things for us, Lane, because we're quite curious," Brennan said.

Lane paced for several seconds. "I love Rhonda. She was never a mother to me. She was always... a woman. A beautiful woman. My dad married her when I was eighteen. I was a man then. I'm a man now. I wanted to marry Rhonda, but she felt guilty about divorce. Or maybe she just felt weird about divorcing dad and marrying me. I don't know."

"What happened on July 2nd, Lane?" Booth pressed.

Lane paused and looked between the two investigators. Realizing that there was no way out, he finally said, "He hit Rhonda. I lost it and... I chased him out of the house. I hit him a couple of times and he just went down. I don't know what happened. I--I panicked. I thought I killed him."

"He was most likely still alive, Lane," Brennan said.

"What?" Lane searched their faces for truth. It hit him that the truth was being told. "Oh, G-d! No!"

"Then what?" Booth said.

"I... I did like you said. I pulled the cover off the storm drain and pushed him in. I swear I didn't mean it, though! I swear! I just... I just wanted to be with Rhonda. I just wanted him to stop hitting her. I didn't mean it..."

Oh wow! That was really good. Awesome writing. And you say FLUFF. I love fluff. Bring on the fluff. Can't wait for more