Thank you for your warm responses to this story idea of mine. Thank yous to: Lauwy, ZinaR, Vmf447 (they will have escapades all right not sure if they're all crazy though), RobinAngelena, MstgSzy, LoveShipper (it's the same reason as in the show for this story), 554Laura, aadams00 (definitely there will be adventures), chanevlovesbones, Phyllis, kareneb, FictionWriter91, jsboneslover (definitely continuing it).

Brennan woke the next morning to the sound of Christine's cries. Quickly remembering the situation she was in, she jumped out of bed, her body tense, ready for any sort of trouble.

"Whoa, easy there Honey. Everything's okay."

"Dad." Brennan blinked, clearing her vision.

"She just wanted her Mommy. I wanted to try let you sleep in a little more. I fed her, bathed her in the sink and played with her, but I guess I'm not you."

"Thanks Dad." Brennan said as she took a crying Christine from Max.

The baby seemed pacified in her mother's arms as her cries dulled to hiccups and eventually stopped as Brennan held her close rocking her. Noticing her father's stare, Brennan asked, "What?"

"You're a natural. Just like your mother."

Max's words made her miss Booth who liked to tell her how good she was at being a mother to Christine. Worried if Pelant had gotten to Booth, she asked, "Is there anything? On the news?"

"Nothing much. Nothing about Pelant or Booth. Which is good."

"What about me?"

"Nothing yet. I'd give the FBI another day or two before they put it on the news. Perhaps they're still hoping you'd turn yourself in."

Brennan nodded.

"Speaking of which, I would feel better if we tried to change your appearance."

"Change how I look?"

"Well I don't mean plastic surgery. Soon your beautiful face will be all over the news and you're a well-known author. I got some hair dye, after breakfast you should at least change the color of your hair."

"I'm not sure I'm fond of the idea Dad."

"Believe me, it's better this way. People see what they expect to see. They don't expect you with a different hair color. They'll be on the lookout for a dark-haired woman with her baby daughter. We shouldn't give them that."

"Makes sense." Brennan conceded.

"We should so something about Christine too."

"She's too young to have her hair dyed."

"I didn't mean that. We should change her clothes at least, dress her like a boy. I got some. She can wear them when it's time to move."

"That seems acceptable."

"Now get something to eat, then you can get on to what needs to be done."

Brennan decided to heed her father's advice. Still holding Christine in her arms she sat down at the tiny table in the room. Her father had prepared juice and some bread. She didn't realise how hungry she was until she started eating. After breakfast, she headed to the bathroom, ready to change the color of her hair. She stared at the bottle of hair dye Max had gotten for her. Blonde. An image of Hannah flashed across her mind, sending an inexplicable feeling of jealousy coursing through her. She thought of Booth. She hoped he wouldn't mind her new look.

…

Booth spent the day at home, working on fixing things that had been broken or needed fixing, like a loose floorboard, or the leaky bathroom faucet. Jobs put off in the course of their busy lives. It was a strange new feeling he was unaccustomed to now that he didn't have work or his family to occupy him, how he had so much time on his hands.

At noon, Sweets stopped by to see how he was doing and offer support of which Booth turned down. The less people knew about his eventual plan, the better. He did drop some hints however to the FBI profiler that he was thinking about gambling again to cope with the rage he was feeling at his situation. It was a ruse of course, one that he would use at a later time. That evening Booth microwaved some leftovers and sat down infront of the tv with a bottle of cold beer. It was always this time of day it seemed that he missed his family the most. The remote in one hand, he switched from channel to channel until the news caught his attention.

Brennan was now a wanted fugitive, her photograph looking back at him from the tv screen. He sighed. This was also expected. He couldn't wait to see her again but he understood the time wasn't right. Again he questioned his own sanity at trusting Max. He knew he didn't have much of a choice. He went to bed that night, again missing Brennan and Christine.

The third morning after Brennan had left, Booth felt as if he had enough. He looked out the window and the same unmarked car that had been there since Flynn finished questioning him, was still there. After breakfast, he threw open his front door and made a beeline for the cark parked down the street.

Booth had worked for a long time at the FBI and knew many agents. There were two men seated in the car. The man in the driver's seat he recognised as Agent Jacobson, a relatively new guy assigned to Major Crimes. The other guy in the passenger seat, Booth didn't recognise. Probably fresh out of Quantico. Only new guys got stuck with jobs like this one, keeping tabs on a fugitive's loved one. The two men seemed to squirm in their seats as they realised Booth was walking towards them. He knocked on the passenger side window of the car. The window opened.

"You two getting tired of sittin' out here? You've been watching me for the past three days. I assure you I'm not all that interesting."

"We aren't – " the Agent Booth didn't recognise started, only to be cut off by Booth.

"Cut the bullshit! Didn't they teach you at Quantico to just get the hell outta there when the person of interest makes you?"

"We're just following orders Sir." Jacobson replied.

"Right. Look, you tell Flynn to quit putting a tail on me okay? I don't know where Dr Brennan is, and she isn't gonna try to contact me because right now our daughter is more important to her than me. Now get the hell off my street before I go back in my house and get my gun all right?"

"You serious Sir?" Jacobson asked.

"I'm not kidding here Jacobson. If Agent Flynn wants to waste FBI resources on me, you tell him he's barking up the wrong tree. Now get out of here! If he gives you hell tell him to come look for me. I'll be home."

Booth watched with mild satisfaction as Jacobson started up the car then drove off. He wasn't surprised when a couple of hours later Flynn, came by.

"What's this I hear about you threatening two FBI Agents?" Flynn asked, clearly irate.

"You're wasting time and resources. You should be keeping tabs on Pelant, not me!"

"Dr Brennan didn't try to contact you?"

"No! I haven't seen or heard from her."

"But she might."

"She won't. She won't risk getting separated from our daughter."

"Agent Jacobson said you haven't left the house in three days."

"So?"

"If you need to talk to anyone about Dr Brennan taking your kid and leaving you…"

"I'm fine." Booth reflexively ran a hand through his dark hair that he hadn't bothered to comb in the past three days. His dishevelled appearance, unkempt hair and a three-day old stubble was a look he didn't really need to work hard at. He was missing his girls terribly and the look complimented his current mood.

"You don't look fine."

"You a shrink now?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that if I found out my wife murdered someone, then ran off with my kid…"

"Bones didn't murder anyone okay?!"

"The evidence all points to her. What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't you think it's all too convenient, all the evidence just wrapped up in a nice package, all telling you that she's the murderer?"

"I can't go against what I have!"

"Look, if you wanna help, quit putting a tail on me."

"I'll think about it."

"Right. Did you need anything else?"

"No. I'll go now. But if you hear from Dr Brennan, you'll tell me."

"She's not gonna call me." Booth replied in a dejected tone.

"You sure you don't need to talk to someone about this?"

"I've got my ways of handling this okay?"

"What like gambling?"

"I'm not gambling."

"I've heard that one before." Flynn offered Booth a meaningful glance before speaking again. "You take care Seeley. Don't do anything stupid."

Booth watched as Flynn left, climbing into this car and driving off. This was what he had hoped would happen, make Flynn believe he had sunk into depression and despair. He needed an opening, for suspicion to be thrown off him. An opportunity to slip out of town unnoticed. He knew he had to be patient. Soon he would get to see Brennan and Christine again.