A/N: Hello! So here's the deal-this is a Temperance Brennan/Vincent Nigel-Murray fic that's been bouncing around in my head since this last episode where she laughed at the idea of them having sex or whatever... so I was like, "IS the idea so crazy?" Ha well it is, but just let me know what you think. I love to hear from you guys and see what your ideas are so if you have any please drop a review!

PS-This chapter is expository! So there isn't much action going on here. Also, everything has been the same in the series, except Hannah said yes when Booth asked her to marry him. Again, review and give me your thoughts!

Love, me. :)

Things weren't going so well for Temperance Brennan. She'd been trudging through life since Booth and Hannah had gotten engaged and she was exhausted, mentally and physically.

Some days she felt better, like maybe things would look up for her soon but seeing Booth and Hannah together made her feel worse. And she was tired of feeling sorry for herself.

"So how are you holding up, Tempe?" Angela asked. She looked up at her best friend, who was sitting across from her at her desk.

"How long have you been there?" she asked, surprised. Was she so distracted that she didn't notice people coming in and out of the room?

"I just sat down," Angela said with a small laugh, although her face betrayed a look of concern. "You must not be doing so well." Brennan rubbed her eyes and blinked.

"I just haven't been getting adequate sleep, Angela. Nothing else is wrong."

"Come on." Brennan bit her lip and realized they were at an impasse. The door was closed (when did it close? How had she not heard it close?) and the look of concern on Angela's face had morphed into determination and a desire for the details of her best friend's life.

"I don't know, Angela," her voice started to shake, this was bad. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Maybe it's just that… everything around me is changing and that's difficult."

Angela leaned forward. "Change is hard for everyone, sweetie. But it doesn't always have to be a bad thing." She knew what Temperance meant and her heart went out to her. She'd been hurt before, and this was definitely a case of a broken heart, whether her friend would admit it or not.

"It's bad for me," she replied, sniffling. She was about to tell Angela everything before the shrill ring of her cell phone.

"Don't pick it up," Angela said quickly, just as Brennan's finger was about to hit the button. They sat, somehow frozen in the room. The caller ID displayed Booth's number and they both knew that a case had come up.

Angela went on as soon as the phone stopped ringing. "Listen, sweetie. I can see that you're tired and emotional right now." She held up a finger to silence Brennan, who was about to protest. "When was your last vacation?"

"You know I was in the Maluku Islands for a few months," she replied. Angela rolled her eyes. That was still work. Of course Brennan would consider something like that a vacation.

"That was ages ago. You need to relax. You're under a lot of stress—" the phone rang again. This time, Brennan hit the ignore button. "Do you remember when you said you'd do anything to help me out during my pregnancy?"

"Of course," Brennan replied, surprised by the remark. What did Angela's pregnancy have to do with her own problems?

"I'm not supposed to be stressed out about anything. And I'm worried about you!"

"I'm just tired, Angela…"

"Sweetie, you've been 'just tired' for the past two months." Brennan sighed. There was probably no stopping her at this point. "Even if you're 'just tired' that still means that you're working too hard!"

"I can't just ignore work," Brennan said, but with a smile. The phone rang again. "I have to answer this, it might be an emergency. Hello?"

"Hey, Bones." It was Booth. Angela frowned and crossed her arms over her growing stomach.

Vincent Nigel-Murray always felt nervous around Dr. Brennan. She was smart, and a little cold, but she was also gorgeous, which made her ten times more intimidating.

"Mr. Nigel-Murray," she said, putting an emphasis on the 'mister.'

"Yes, Dr. Brennan?" He looked up from the skeleton, sure that his voice was neutral and polite. He was still embarrassed from the other week when she'd laughed at the absurd idea of the two of them in a 'passionate' on-and-off relationship.

"I hope you've found something for me to tell Booth and Cam. I feel as though we've been lagging in our work lately…" As she tied her hair up he wondered what she meant by that. Was he lagging is his work?

He showed her his progress (in his opinion, some great evidence). He watched her face soften and relax as he showed her the evidence of puncture wounds in the ribs and the posthumous crushing of the skull.

"So she would have died from the stab wounds," she mused, almost unaware of him. "Very good, Mr. Nigel-Murray."

"Would you like me to let Dr. Soroyan know?"

"No, I'll be able to tell her," Brennan said. Vincent noticed that she'd suddenly paled. Her hand reached out for a moment to hold on to the edge of the metal table, but after a moment she let go.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked quickly.

"I'm fine, why?" she asked, her voice shaky. Vincent cautiously lifted a hand to her shoulder. She smiled. "Don't worry, I'm completely fine."

"Perhaps I should help you down the stairs," he said, but regretted his suggestion as soon as she rolled her eyes at him.

"You don't have to worry, I'm perfectly capable going down the stairs," she said with a laugh. And then she passed out.

She woke up on her office couch, with Vincent Nigel-Murray in a chair pulled up next to her.

"Ah, don't move too much," he said quickly as she struggled to sit up. "You have an IV drip…" She looked around the room to find Angela and Booth in the room as well.

"What happened?" she asked softly, unable to speak much louder.

"You were dehydrated and exhausted," Angela said. "I told you to take a vacation."

"She's right, Bones," piped in Booth. "I'm taking you home." He crouched next to her and patted her on the cheek. "Ready to go—" His phone was ringing. "It's Parker's school, hang on."

Angela talked as Booth paced outside the glass doors on the phone. Her eyes wandered to Mr. Nigel-Murray, who was frowning and staring at the IV in her arm. She tried but couldn't listen to what Angela was saying.

"… Please, please take a vacation. Two weeks minimum!" Vincent was nodding nervously, as if agreeing with Angela would get him in trouble.

"Work place accidents are seventy percent more likely to occur when an employee is deprived of sleep," he said. Brennan scoffed.

"I'm not sleep-deprived," she said.

"You just told me this morning that you were," Angela retorted. "You are taking a vacation before you send me into early labor, got it?"

"I'm okay," Brennan insisted, sitting up slowly. "I have to get back to work. Mr. Nigel-Murray just found cause of death." She looked at him. "Where are my shoes?"

"By the door," he said. "Along with your coat. Would you like me to get them for you?"

"I'm not leaving," she said, feeling more and more defeated by the second. "Will you please bring me my shoes and we'll continue working? This is not a big deal…"

Vincent looked to Angela, who shook her head. He looked back to his boss. "I don't think it's a good idea, Dr. Brennan."

She was too tired for this fight, she realized. She was on the verge of tears from exhaustion; maybe they were right. The door re-opened and Booth came back into the office.

"I have to go to Parker's school and pick him up. They say he might have broken his arm on the playground. Can you take her home, Angela?"

"Oh, no, I can't," she said apologetically. "I have an ultrasound I need to get to in fifteen minutes. Hang on, let me call and reschedule."

"Hang on, Angela, if you need me to I can drive Dr. Brennan home," Vincent piped up. "I can hurry and be back in an hour."

"What about working?" Temperance said.

"Listen, sweetie, you need to relax," Angela said. "Vincent, take her home. I'll talk to Cam when I get back from my appointment, okay? Brennan, don't worry about it."

The ride to Brennan's home was quiet. Ten minutes into the ride, Vincent looked over to his passenger.

"Dr. Brennan, is there any particular music you like to listen to?" He needed to fill the silence or he'd die of awkwardness. Brennan sat up a little.

"I think I have a headache," she said. "I'm sorry you had to drive me back."

Suddenly he felt guilty for feeling so awkward. "It's quite alright," he replied. "You'll have to tell me which street to turn on."

"Just keeping going straight," she said quietly. "I'm relieved you started talking. I was feeling very uncomfortable when we were silent." Brennan shifted so she could look at him more closely. "What weapon do you suppose was used to make the puncture marks on the ribs?"

"Dr. Brennan, maybe you should focus more on relaxing, than on this case," he said good-naturedly. She frowned.

"Turn here," she sighed. He walked her to the door and left her, not remembering her looking so defeated.