The mood was light, although tinged with a somber note. Successfully closing a case, finding the evidence necessary to bring a murderer to justice, was always reason to celebrate. In this case, the memory of the four little boys whose lives had ended at the hands of the man now sitting in jail because of the team's hard work tempered the usual triumph.

"You okay, Bones?" Booth leaned in, his voice low, looking at her closely. The shadows in her eyes echoed the faint circles under them. Under cover of the table, she squeezed his hand where it rested above her knee.

"Tired," she responded, resisting – barely – the urge to lay her head on his shoulder and take the comfort he offered. Her eyes misted over and she blinked furiously to banish the tears that seemed to form so easily these last few weeks. She cleared her throat quietly, trying to swallow back the hard knot that threatened to unravel the suddenly tenuous grip she had on her composure. Booth turned his hand over to capture hers, squeezing back, giving her something to focus on as she struggled. She looked at their entwined hands, his so broad and capable, hers smaller, the fingers long and slender. When she had herself under control again, she looked up directly into those warm brown eyes focused on her with so much concern.

"Booth, I . . ." her voice trailed away at a quick burst of laughter from Clark. Not the place, Temperance, she scolded herself silently. Booth held her gaze, offering that lopsided, dimpled half-smile of his that so charmed her.

"I know," he whispered quietly, with one more squeeze to her fingers. She took a deep breath and looked away . . . directly into the all-seeing eyes of Jack Hodgins. His gaze flicked back and forth between Brennan and Booth, questions and suspicion welling. Brennan released Booth's hand with a small cough, folding her hands together primly on the table in front of her. Booth casually lifted his arm to the back of Brennan's chair; unseen, his fingers burrowed beneath her hair, tracing faint patterns on the nape of her neck.

"Okay, if I don't get home and feed Michael my boobs will burst!" Angela exclaimed loudly, claiming the table's attention. With laughter and hugs, the Jeffersonian crew parted, leaving Booth and Brennan sitting at the table alone. Holding the door for Angela and Cam as they chattered their way out, Hodgins looked back as Booth threaded his fingers in Brennan's hair, lowering his head to press a gentle kiss on her lips. Her face remained upturned, her eyes closed as their lips parted. Hodgins grinned as Booth smiled and kissed her forehead, murmuring words that didn't carry past the two people lost in each other.

"Why are you smiling like the Cheshire Cat?" Angela asked as he joined her on the sidewalk in front of The Founding Fathers.

"Oh, you know," Jack replied, unable to stop his grin from widening. "Life is pretty sweet. Now let's get you and your leaky boobs home to our son."