Note: And the final one-shot.

Prompt: Angela, Brennan, Caroline: Girl talk or brunch or pregnancy scare

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb

Look, I love Bren. We've been friends for years – the longest friendship of my life – and it's not an exaggeration to say she changed my life.

Before I met her, I'd never held a job for longer than a couple of months. She asked me to work with her at the Jeffersonian – drawing the faces of murder victims, of all things – and somehow I stuck it out for years. If it hadn't been for her, I would have cut and run long ago.

If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have taken a chance on Hodgins. I wouldn't have my husband, my son, or my daughter.

I owe her a lot.

It goes both ways. Who knows if she'd ever have gotten together with Booth if it weren't for me? After only seven or eight years of me pointing out how great they are together, there they are, sharing a home with their beautiful daughter.

She's happy, too – happier than I've ever seen her. Having someone who loves her, someone to love, grounds her and gives her a launching point from which she somehow manages to do more than ever before.

She wasn't exactly a couch potato before she met Booth, but now she's a best-selling author, the tops in the world in forensic anthropology, and a guest lecturer who flies around the country for prestigious speaking engagements. I'm pretty sure she let some of the hunting licenses lapse, but she still goes to at least two martial arts classes a week, and she and Booth spent a week diving in the Caribbean last March.

She's gone from someone who lived out of a suitcase to someone with a home, and that makes all of the difference. She's opened up to new experiences – a committed relationship, sharing a home, having a child – without losing who she is. It's the epitome of what love should be, you know?

But as much as I love Bren, she has her faults. She doesn't understand normal social interactions, she's condescending with people she considers beneath her (which is everyone), and she expects anyone she comes into contact with to live up to her impossible standards. That last one is why Christine has had seven nannies in two short years. Hell, Brennan has fired Max at least six times.

The fault that's most relevant today, though, is that she always leaves work late. That's why I'm sitting alone in the diner, watching the world go by, while she's at the lab, examining one last set of remains or giving one of her interns one more set of instructions.

Ten minutes ago, I didn't care that she was late. Katherine was sleeping contentedly in her car seat, and it was just such a relief to be out in the world of adults again. I love my daughter, but she's still an infant, and although she's adorable and way more cuddly than Michael was at that age, she's not much fun yet. I'm at our usual table – front and center, with a view of both the door and the street – and I spent the time entertaining myself with people watching, inventing stories to explain why that teenage boy walks with a limp or how the business woman got the run in her stocking.

I didn't order when the waitress came by earlier – I told her I was happy to wait – but now I'm wondering whether if I'll starve before Bren gets here. Hey, I'm breastfeeding. I need my food.

Before I can snag the waitress to tell her I've changed my mind, Brennan arrives, rushing through the door and stumbling over apologies. The waitress bustles over, we order, and my day is back on track.

Katherine wakes up, and I pull her onto my lap. Brennan coos over her as usual, and Katherine waves her tiny arms around and shrieks in laughter.

Maybe she likes having people around as much as I do.

Our food arrive and we eat, the conversation continuing as we dig into our food. Since Katherine was born, the only time we've had together was when Hodgins, Booth, and the kids were around. I love my family, but I've missed these one-on-one conversations.

It isn't until our food is gone and we're lingering over coffee that I realize that Brennan isn't really listening.

That's weird. Brennan always listens. It's one of the best things about her. When she focuses her attention on you, it's all on you, and she doesn't miss a thing. Well, at least not anything that she considers important.

The more I watch, though, the more sure I am that she's not listening now. She's smiling and nodding at all the right places, but she's not there like she normally is.

It might be the baby that's distracting her – she keeps looking at Katherine with an expression that looks both enthralled and vaguely nauseous – but I've seen her have an intense conversation while knee deep – literally – in human remains, so I can't imagine one infant would throw her off.

There's something going on with her, though, so eventually I just blurt it out. "Bren? What's going on?"

She looks startled, as if she didn't expect that I'd see through her facade, and for a second I catch a glimpse of something that looks a lot like fear. Almost immediately, I can see her trying to hide whatever she's feeling. She tries to laugh off the question but let's face it – she's never been much of an actor. Well, not unless she's undercover with Booth, playing a devoted, happy couple.

Something tells me she needs to talk about whatever it is, so I put on my stern, tell-Angela-what's-going-on-in-that-genius-head-of-yours face, and say, "You might as well tell me."

Her eyes shoot to Katherine again, and she asks, "What's it like? Having two children who require constant attention and care?"

My first thought is that she's avoiding the subject that's bothering her, so my reply is a little more abrupt, my tone more brusque than it might have been otherwise. "I love my kids, Bren."

She looks like I punched her, and she immediately apologizes. "I know, Ange, but … don't you ever worry that you're going to disappear, and all that will be left is someone's mom?"

What? I lean back in my chair, holding the baby close, and stare at her. "It sounds like you're afraid you're losing yourself, Bren."

Her gaze drops to her coffee cup, and she idly picks up her teaspoon and devotes her attention to stirring a packet of sugar into the coffee. "I hate psychology."

I reach across the table and put my hand on hers. "Is it Booth?" I sound sympathetic, even though I'm plotting ways to make a certain FBI agent disappear if he's the one putting that scared, lost look on her face.

Her head jerks up. "No!"

I wait quietly, hoping she'll start talking just to fill the silence. I'm just about to cave, when she blurts out, "My period is late. Eight days."

"Oh!" My hand flies to my mouth, and I rest the baby on the table in front of me so that I can lean across the table. "I didn't know you were trying."

Her mouth twists in a wry smile. "We weren't."

I'm thrilled, of course, but then I've always liked kids, and there's nothing I'd like more than Bren having another child. It's not up to me, though, and I ask, "Are you sure? How does Booth feel about it?"

She shakes her head. "I just realized this morning. I don't know for sure. And I haven't told him."

"Are you afraid he'll be upset?", I ask, mentally revisiting my FBI agent disposal plan.

"He'll be thrilled", she says confidently, "I'm just not sure I am."

"You will be", I reply, knowing it's true. Bren is the kind of person who's scared to leap, but once she does, she fully commits. I lean over the table and hand her my daughter. "Here, let me remind me what you have to look forward to."

She hesitates for a second, but then my daughter is wrapped in her arms and she's doing that "dancing phalanges" routine that's both weird and sweet.

I pick up my coffee and take a sip as Brennan loses herself in her game. I see the look on her face, and I know that she'll find a way to make it work, even if she's not ready to admit it to herself quite yet.

"Well isn't this a tender scene." I must have really been focused on Bren and Katherine, because I totally missed Caroline walking into the diner – and believe me, Caroline knows how to make an entrance. She gestures, and I move over one seat so that she can join us.

"So this is the new arrival? What's her name again?"

"Katherine", I answer.

"Hmmph!" is the reply. "That's not a bad name. Nothing wrong with Caroline for a girl, either."

Nothing subtle about Caroline, either. "Maybe next time."

The waitress hurries over with a cup of coffee. Caroline takes a sip, then directs her attention to Bren. "You and Booth'd better get a move on, or the bug guy and Angela will be on their third before you have your second."

Brennan doesn't answer, just tucks the baby in closer and asks, "Is there something you need, Caroline?"

Caroline stares at her. I've been a recipient of one of those stares before, and it's not an experience I'm eager to repeat. "Of course there's something I need. You think I have time to be hanging out at the diner in the middle of the day?" She slides a case file across the table. "You missed a signature."

Bren signs and slides the file back. Caroline sets down her now-empty coffee cup and stands, case file tucked securely under her arm. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan. Angela." She nods to me, then looks at Bren one last time. "Remember what I said. Nothing wrong with Caroline." She weaves her way through the crowded diner to the door, and she's gone.

BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb

And that's it.I'd love to hear what you think.