The Burden of Proof

1. This Is Not an Accusation

The Founding Fathers was unusually quiet tonight, a fact that the partners welcomed with open arms. After the day they had just had, a quiet evening drinking was really all they could handle.

"I can't believe it was him all along!" she said, exhausted. "You interrogated him five times and it never occurred to you he might be the killer."

"Are you saying I suck?" Booth checked, inwardly agreeing with her.

"Hardly. I'm saying he was really good. In a really bad way."

"No. You're right. I suck."

She tilted her head while he drank from his beer, eyes drifting around.

"His motive was skimpy, at best," he explained. "He didn't have to... I never thought he was the type of guy to just go off like that, no reason. But I should have seen it."

By the way he was staring at it now, his glass seemed quite interesting. Brennan bit her lips.

"You used to say people were run by their emotions. You didn't try to find the rationality behind their actions. Maybe you should..."

"Are you about to give me advice, Bones?"

"I just think you should stop with the logic thing. You're not cut out for it."

"Yeah, ok, I know. You've told me plenty of times already that I'm not a genius."

"This has nothing to do with intelligence, Booth. You should reconcile with your gut."

"Reconcile with my gut?" he laughed. That was one sentence he never thought he'd hear her say. Ever.

"Yes."

They locked eyes. She took permission to dig a little bit, to figure out what was going on.

"What happened to you? You're... different."

"People change. They adapt. Isn't that what you always say? An inevitable inevitability or something like that."

She didn't even point out his redundancy. She knew he was doing it on purpose.

"I'd rather you didn't change. Too much," she confessed, rotating her glass between her fingers.

"Because it's making you anxious and full of acid reflux?"

She squinted her eyes at him.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"See?" he laughed, raising a hand. "You're changing, too! You used to be oblivious when people made fun of you."

"People made fun of me?"

His hand found her forearm on the table without him having to look for it.

"I'm just teasing," he said, comforting.

She set her empty glass aside, sighing. She was wiped.

"Want some more wine?" he asked her.

She shook her head.

"I shouldn't. Got an early day tomorrow."

She grabbed her purse and took out her wallet, but Booth stopped her.

"It's on me," he said.

"Thanks. Hey, do you think we drink too much?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... we're always here. Maybe we have a problem."

Booth's laugh resonated through her. She felt warm.