A/N: Hey, guys. I know it's been months…again. I never intended for that to happen, but I've had a really busy semester, writing wise. I've had a lot of scripts due for screenwriting gclass and for production class, on top of me trying to finish some individual projects for my writing portfolio since it's senior year. I finished "Walking By" first just because it was shorter. Anyway, this chapter starts a new phase of the story, and I didn't want to post it until I knew I could get more frequent updates.

So from here on out, I'll be posting more often. The chapters will probably be shorter, but hopefully more frequent updates will be a fair trade for that. Chapter title this week is from Mumford and Sons.

Chapter Ten

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

"Are you awake?"

Brennan was quiet for a moment before answering in a small voice, "Yes."

Immediately, Booth rolled onto his side, propping up on an elbow . Brennan lifted her gaze, and their eyes found each other in the darkness.

Booth half-smiled down at Brennan, the pad of his thumb tracing the length of her cheekbone. After a moment of quiet, he whispered, "Are you scared?"

"No," Brennan murmured resolutely, shaking her head a little to emphasize the point.

Booth read the truth in her eyes, but didn't contract her. He stayed quiet for awhile, then said softly, "I am."

"Me, too," Brennan admitted, her voice barely audible.

"Come here." He opened his arm, and Brennan gratefully nestled closer. "It's gonna be okay."

Brennan closed her eyes, whispering against his shoulder, "You aren't going to…do anything irrational, right?"

"No, Bones." His answer was immediate, because he knew it was what she needed to hear. Truthfully, though, Booth had been lying awake for the last hour, physically ill with the knowledge that this trial was actually happening, that he was actually letting her go through with this.

Maybe she heard the doubt in his voice, because Brennan's fingers slid into his. "It's going to be fine, Booth. We're ready."

"I know."

But the two of them lay awake and silent for the rest of the night, watching the clock count the hours to Brennan's trial.

~(B*B)~

"Almost ready, Bones?"

"Be right out, Booth."

The normalcy of their voices was too forced , the light, casual tone too note perfect.

Brennan surveyed herself in the bathroom mirror. She was wearing the suit she always wore to testify, though today the jacket hung loosely and ill fitted over her shoulders. She'd lost weight in the two months on house arrest.

Brennan's hand drifted to her stomach, and she thought idly that soon she'd have the opposite problem. For now, though, she looked almost unhealthy, her glassy, lidded eyes from a sleepless night merely adding to the almost sickly appearance.

Gritting her teeth, remembering Alex's statements on the importance of a first impression, Brennan leaned forward, reapplying makeup to more effectively disguise the dark circles under her eyes or the paleness of her cheeks.

"Bones?"

Finally, she opened the bathroom door and tried to smile. "Ready."

~(B*B)~

The parking lot was a sea of people; cameramen maneuvering to keep their reporters in sight, producers adjusting wires for their satellite feeds, photographers hidden behind intermittent flashes, curious onlookers merely shuffling for space.

Booth's eyes scanned the crowd from the car window. Beside him, he heard Brennan's breathing quicken, and he reached across the console and took her hand.

"We'll be quick," Booth told her firmly.

Brennan nodded wordlessly, her mouth set in a straight line, but for probably the first time in their lives she waited in the car until Booth came around and opened the door, immediately wrapping his arm around her as they walked purposefully forward.

Realization rippled through the crowd like a tidal wave, an audible buzz of awareness swelling as Brennan was spotted. Cameras swiveled, voices hurled questions, flashes blinded them.

As they neared the courthouse, the throng of journalists holding microphones or cameras converged on them, and Booth tightened his grip as he shouldered his way through the crowd, his badge out but useless.

Amid the cacophony of voices shouting questions, Brennan's ears seemed to hone in on the most personal phrases.

"….killing your own rapist?"

"….abuse in your foster home led to…."

"…by your parents' disappearance…"

She closed her eyes against the flashbulbs, suddenly reminded of the nineteenth century belief of the Yao tribe in Africa that a photograph was damaging to the soul.

Brennan tucked her head against Booth's shoulder, trusting him to guide her up the stairs to the courthouse.

~(B*B)~

Inside the courtroom was only slightly calmer, as reporters jostled for a spot in the gallery. In the row behind the defense table, Booth, Angela, Hodgins, Sweets, and Cam formed a protective barrier between Brennan and the press.

Next to Brennan, Alex was still standing, organizing her notes and casting periodic glances at her client.

"Don't even look over at him," Alex told her at one point, catching Brennan staring avidly at Chris Gold and his lackeys behind the prosecution table. "Starting today, his job is to say awful things about you…the best thing you can do is just ignore him."

"Ignore him. Alright," Brennan repeated softly. She lowered her eyes to stare at the smooth solid wood of the defense table and squaring her shoulders, hoping that Booth and the others couldn't tell she was shaking.

Brennan didn't want to be nervous. She knew it would be several trial days, maybe longer, before she had to do anything more than sit and listen.

But she couldn't stop thinking about her father's trial, about visiting him in jail and desperately hoping he would be acquitted, against all truth and evidence. On the heels of that, she thought about her own child, how even Booth didn't know how much was currently at stake.

Suddenly Alex sat down beside her, scrutinizing Brennan's face. "Are you alright?" She asked in an undertone.

Brennan nodded, her throat suddenly too constricted to speak.

Alex patted her arm reassuringly. "It's going to be a rough couple days, alright? Just remember…once the prosecution puts on their show, it's our turn." Brennan nodded, still afraid to speak, and Alex cast a glance over her shoulder at Booth.

Reading concern in the lawyer's eyes, Booth leaned forward, reaching over the divide and lightly touching the back of Brennan's arm. "Bones?"

His voice, tender and heavy with concern, was enough to steady Brennan's breathing, to remind her why she was doing this, and why it was important to hold herself together.

Brennan blinked rapidly several times, then turned around, meeting Booth's eyes. "I'm fine," she told him quietly. Brennan glanced at her other friends, all watching her with concern, then returned her gaze to Booth's. "Really."

"All rise."

The voice didn't register with Brennan, and she and Booth both stayed seated, staring at each other, until Alex tugged gently on Brennan's arm.

She reluctantly stood, turning around to see the judge emerge from a side door, black robes flowing behind him. "The honorable Daniel Hayes presiding."

Hayes' eyes seemed to sweep the room, taking in the jury, the press, and finally looking from the defense table to the prosecution's. "Be seated," he stated, voice holding a kind of calm authority. "The prosecution," he stated, opening a file, "may begin."

~(B*B)~

Chris Gold was good. That was clear before the man even opened his mouth.

He strolled toward the jury box, taking his time, making eye contact with every man and woman seated there, establishing a connection to each one before he'd spoken a word. His eyes were warm and certain, gaze utterly trustworthy.

"My name is Christopher Gold, and I'm here representing the District of Colombia." He rested his hands on the railing in front of the jury box. "And I want to thank each one of you for taking on a very important job. For the duration of this trial, you are a crucial part of our justice system….the justice system our country is built upon."

Chris began pacing, leisurely, the length of the jury box, still constantly shifting eye contact with each juror. "The United States justice system is built on many crucial principles you're probably familiar with. Innocent until proven guilty. The right to a fair trial. The right to an impartial jury…like all of you.

"In our justice system, there are steps. We need cause for arrest, we need cause to arraign. We put a dependent through a trial, we let each side present their case. Then a group of people like you, the impartial jury, makes a decision based on the evidence. The jury returns the verdict…if that verdict is guilty, then a judge or, in some cases, another jury, determines the sentence. Then that sentence is served. That's the way our justice system works."

Chris turned, pining his gaze on Brennan, and pointed at her, "But on April 17, Dr. Temperance Brennan ignored that justice system. She decided she knew better than the justice system, and she took it upon herself to decide what punishment Sean Lowell deserved…and she murdered him."

Chris paused, letting that sink in. Finally, his eyes flicked the Alex. "The defense wants you to think Sean Lowell deserved to die…they're going to tell you that he was a bad man. They're going to tell you that, when Temperance Brennan was sixteen and living in Sean Lowell's house as his foster child…he abused and raped her."

At the defense table, Brennan closed her eyes.

"On that last count, they're absolutely correct. Sean Lowell was guilty of rape, and physical abuse, and neglect…that was determined by the justice system eighteen years ago. A jury just like you found Sean Lowell guilty of those crimes, and he was sentenced accordingly. He was in jail for eighteen years. He served his time, he paid his debt to society…yet Dr. Brennan decided that wasn't good enough."

For the first time, he moved away from the jury box, walking toward the defense table and fixing Brennan with a look of such ostentatious pity her stomach turned. "Her anger and resentment of Sean Lowell is certainly understandable. But the fact is, she decided she knew better than the justice system that has served this country for decades. The moment people begin ignoring the justice system and taking matters into their own hands…that's the moment civilized society begins to fall apart."

Smoothing his tie, Chris turned away from Brennan, eyes back on the jury, his true audience. "The defense wants you to believe that Dr. Brennan was afraid for her life. They want you to believe that she had no choice. But the facts of this case don't support that, and in fact there was no evidence to support the claim that Sean Lowell was stalking Temperance Brennan.

"Dr. Brennan's boyfriend, an FBI Agent, filed a police report on the supposed incidents of stalking, and you'll hear from the police officers who were told that the report was a formality they weren't to look into. You'll hear from those same officers, who conducted a search of Sean's apartment and found no evidence connecting him to the incidents. You'll hear from Sean's parole officer, who had no issues with Sean and was, in fact, kept in the dark about any suspicions. You'll hear from Sean's lawyer, who confirms that an arrest Agent Booth attempted on Sean Lowell was completely groundless "

Chris paused, and he looked over at Brennan again, that same frustrating pity. "Dr. Brennan has been trained in three types of martial arts. As a forensic anthropologist partnered with an FBI agent, she's had physical confrontations with criminals, and always been capable of defending herself. Yet the defense wants you to believe that when she willingly allowed Sean Lowell, unarmed, to enter her home…her only choice was to shoot him."

Chris came closer to the defense table. "Temperance Brennan….has two assault charges on her record. She was once arrested, by Agent Booth, in fact, for shooting an unarmed suspect in the leg." He looked back at the jury, raising an eyebrow. "This isn't the first instance in which Dr. Brennan has put herself outside the law and reacted violently. When you consider what Sean Lowell put her through at age sixteen…eight months of abuse and rape, when he was supposed to be the person responsible for her well-being…it's not hard to understand why this was the instance she took that tendency too far."

The courtroom was silent, "No one here is denying that what Sean Lowell did was horrifying. But it was not up to Temperance Brennan to decide that Sean Lowell deserved to die. And if you acquit her of that crime…" He paused, again meeting every juror's gaze, eyes blazing and deliberate. "…you are undermining the United States justice system. And if we allow her actions to go unpunished…where does that stop?"

~(B*B)~

Brennan felt strangely detached by the end of Chris' opening statement. As though he couldn't possibly be talking about her.

Booth kept making low, strangled noises in his throat throughout the speech, and she could hear Hodgins hissing sarcastically that Gold should have the National Anthem playing behind him during his speech about the justice system, but Brennan kept her eyes trained forward, never turning around to look at them.

Christ threw a glance over at them as he took his seat, the slightest smirk on his face. Alex arched an eyebrow at him, unbothered, the spark of a challenge in her eyes.

"Good speech. Mr. Gold did a good job, didn't he? He's certainly right about the importance of this justice system, and the job you all have been given." She smiled at the jury, then turned her gaze on Chris. "Unfortunately, he was right about only one other thing…that Sean Lowell was a very bad man."

Alex walked back to the defense table and put a hand on her client's shoulder. "When Dr. Temperance Brennan was sixteen…she was put in Sean Lowell's custody because she had no one else. But instead of taking care of her, Sean Lowell spent eight months systematically beating and raping her…and making Temperance feel like her life was in danger if she ever told."

Alex gave Brennan's shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze that was for her benefit rather than the audience, then walked toward the jury box again. "In the eighteen years since Sean Lowell did the unthinkable, Temperance has worked hard, on her own, to become the foremost forensic anthropologist in the country. She spends her life putting criminals in jail, bringing justice to victims…she spends her life upholding the justice system Mr. Gold is so fond of. She hasn't spent those eighteen years planning her revenge on Sean Lowell…all she wanted was to get past what he did to her.

"But Sean did his best to make sure he wouldn't forget. His obsessive fixation on Temperance didn't stop with his arrest. For all eighteen years he was in prison, he wrote letters to her. At least once a month, sometimes more frequent…every letter ended with the same signoff….Can't wait until I'm seeing you again.

"Four days after Sean Lowell's parole hearing and subsequent release…Dr. Brennan received a bouquet of flowers with a card, unsigned, but with the familiar message: Can't wait until I'm seeing you again." Alex paced in silence for a moment, watching the jury react. "Until that moment, Brennan had no idea Sean Lowell had been released…he had another two years on his original sentence, and was serving in an entirely different state. There's no obligation for the court to let victims know when a prisoner is released…so until the flowers and the message, Dr. Brennan had no idea.

"That delivery was four days after Sean Lowell's release…he arrived in DC three days after. Sean requested to be set up with a parole officer here in Washington, a place he had no prior connection to. He's on record as saying that it was because his wife, Annie, has lived here for the past ten years…yet no one has been able to contact her, or find a record of her residence. There's no evidence supporting the claim that Sean was reconciling with his wife…she hadn't visited or written him the last eight years of his prison sentence. Yet Sean immediately relocated to Washington DC…the place where he'd been writing Dr. Brennan for the last seven years."

Alex's eyes flicked to Chris Gold. "During this trial, we'll prove that in the weeks immediately following his release from prison, Sean Lowell immediately began pursuing Temperance Brennan, a continuation of his obsession eighteen years ago…an obsession that is well documented in his letters. Dr. Brennan received silent, frequent phone calls that were always traceable to phone booths. She received flowers and cards, always untraceable yet with Sean's familiar signoff. She received photographs and videotapes following her and her friends. We can prove that Sean Lowell began frequenting a diner near Brennan's work, a diner he knew she visited regularly….the same diner where he was arrested, holding a camera, while Dr. Brennan was inside."

"It's true that there was no conclusive forensic proof tying Sean Lowell to the evidence. He'd gotten careful. Phone calls were untraceable, cards hand delivered and free of fingerprints, flower deliveries paid in cash with no name. Yet the incidents began as soon as a man with a well documented obsession was released from prison…anyone could draw the rational conclusion."

"Yet, Dr. Brennan understands the law better than most. There was nothing to hold Sean Lowell on, no evidence beyond the circumstantial and the common sense. Yet she had spent eight months at age sixteen, fearing for her life at the hands of Sean Lowell…and the moment he was a free man, that fear returned, with good reason.

"So Dr. Brennan took the only step of self-protection the legal system allowed…she filed a restraining order. A condition of Sean's parole forbid all contact with his victim, so the restraining order only emphasized that point."

Alex paused, coming to a stop in front of the jury box, the first time she'd been still the entire speech. "On April 17…three days after the restraining order was filed…Sean showed up at Dr. Brennan's apartment." The jury was hanging on her every word, drinking in the information that had been left out of Gold's opening statement. "It was a clear violation of his parole, and the restraining order…and Dr. Brennan knew that. She opened the door and let him, because keeping him in violation long enough to call the police might be the only way to hold Sean on something...grabbing Agent Booth's gun before she did, just in case.

"As soon as he was inside, Sean attacked her. As Mr. Gold pointed out, she is trained in martial arts, so Dr. Brennan fought him off. The forensic evidence proves a struggle took place, that Sean hit Dr. Brennan, just as he did when she was a teenager completely under his control…this time, though, she fought back. Yet he broke away, every time. So when he came toward her again…Dr. Brennan shot him."

This sentence seemed to hover in the courtroom, and Alex let it hover. "Chris Gold mentioned some of the crucial principles of the legal system. One he didn't point out, though, is the 'burden of proof'. That means that, for you to convict Dr. Brennan today, for you to reject the plea of self defense…you must believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she did need to kill Sean Lowell in order to protect herself. We weren't there that night…which means that all we can do is look at the facts the evidence gives us.

"Fact: For weeks, someone was following and harassing Dr. Brennan, giving her every reason to be fearful for her well being. Fact: These incidences began days after Sean Lowell was released from prison. Fact: Sean Lowell broke his restraining order and violated the terms of his parole. The State wants you to believe that Sean was not stalking Dr. Brennan…yet they conveniently have no explanation for his arrival at her home late at night. Fact: He physically attacked Dr. Brennan, and she attempted to fight him off. The physical evidence proves that. Fact: When Dr. Brennan shot Sean, he was coming toward her again. Again, the physical evidence tells us that."

Alex surveyed the courtroom, and dropped the volume of her voice slightly; it didn't matter, the room was silent. "Fact. Sean Lowell was obsessed with Temperance, and for eight months when she was sixteen, that obsession meant constant abuse and terror. The only difference this time, was that Brennan was no longer a child at Sean's mercy…she was capable of protecting herself."

She narrowed her eyes at the jury, utterly serious. "That's not a crime, ladies and gentleman. That's a blessing."

~(B*B)~

A/N: So. There's a chapter. Thanks for those who are still with me, I'd love to know what you think. Not a lot of plot development, maybe, but now that we're in the trial, the stakes are higher than ever, and things will start picking up.