OOM: It's all very dangerous.

"Hello, is this Martha Noonan?" Booth asks the woman on the other end of the line.

"Yes," she replies. "May I know who's calling?"

Booth introduces himself, then tells her the reason for his call. "Your daughter's uh, fiance," he winces as he says the word. It's clear that Pam Noonan was no more Tommy Sour's fiance than she was a supermodel. "He was found dead a few nights ago. Murdered."

He allows a moment to pass for the appropiate shocked gasp, and "Do they know who did it?" He makes the required sympathetic noises, answers the question in the negative, and then says, "We just need to confirm your daughter's whereabouts at the time of the murder. She was with you?"

Just then, Bones and Sweets walk in, talking loudly.

"The pathology is clear. She's possessive and amoral," Sweets says.

"Eh!" Booth cries, moving the phone from his mouth and pinching his fingers together, indicating that they should shut up.

More quietly, Sweets continues: "Her emotional connections are forged through manipulation and delusion. Once a connection that tenuous breaks..."

Brennan interrupts. "So she killed Tommy Sour?"

Sweets shakes his head. "I can't say that, of course," he admonishes her. "But...she is a dangerous person."

"Thank you," Booth says, and hangs up the phone. "Well. Her story checks out. She was in Florida. And her parents are devastated that their future son-in-law, who they never met, will no longer be her love-monkey."

"Well, Dr. Sweets still thinks that she's a killer," Bones says, shrugging.

Sweets looks at her, very serious. "Dangerous. I think she's dangerous."

"I agree."

Sweets looks at Booth, surprised. "Thank you, Agent Booth."

"All those gifts, and taking pictures from a distance, and showing up in the middle of the night in a nightie -" Booth's tone is light, and it's clear he's being sarcastic. "It's all very dangerous." He puts air quotes around the last two words and walks up to Sweets.

"Mocking," Sweets says, "Will not change my opinion. I've been mocked many many times before."

Booth shifts his eyes from Sweets to Brennan, who has a faint, amused smile on her face.

"That...came out wrong," Sweets says, chagrined.

"That's great, Sweets," Booth says. He claps the younger man on the chest and shoulder, steering him out the door. "Appreciate your help, but you know what, she has an alibi. See ya!"

At the door, Sweets leans back in, looking concerned. "Well...Just be cautious of her, okay? She's not stable."

"Great, thank you," Booth says.

One more time, Sweets leans around the closing door. "Oh, and remember, our session Tuesday's at four. Trust exercises? You're going to be there." He waves as he walks off.

Booth fake laughs and waves. "See ya."

((Sometime later.))

OOM: Coffee and diner food interuptus

((Sometime earlier.))

The phone rings, interrupting a conversation about power and prestige.

Apparently, both Booth and Brennan have high status. He's pleased to know these things. Also, they're a mutual admiration society.

"Yeah, it's Agent Booth," he answers, the number on the caller ID unfamiliar.

"It's Pam." Getting no response, she adds, "Pam Noonan."

"How can I help you, Miss Noonan?" he asks warily.

"Are you available to meet?" she asks brightly.

Booth is taken aback. "I'm sorry - um, how did you get this number?"

"Your office patched me through." She gives a little trill of laughter, sounding nervous. "I said I was your mother."

"Yeah, Dr. Brennan and I can meet with you," he says.

"No," she says, the nervousness gone now. "Just you."

Booth shifts uncomfortably on his stool. "Well, if it's relevant to the case, uh, Miss Noonan, I think it'd be important that Dr. Brennan..."

Pam interrupts. "I can be at your office in a half-hour. But you have to meet me alone."

More confused than ever, Booth asks: "I'm sorry, is this about Tommy?"

"What else would it be about, Agent Booth?" Her voice is soft, gentle, high.

He frowns. "Okay. A half an hour."

Hanging up, Booth looks at Brennan. "What did she want?" Bones asks.

"She wants to see me, without you."

"Did she say why?" Brennan asks in disbelief.

"Probably because you make her uncomfortable," Booth says, a bit sharper than he'd intended.

"How so?" Brennan asks.

"Well, because...you're you, and a well-adjusted woman," Booth points out.

"And a best-selling author," she says, referring back to their earlier conversation. "I was on the New York Times list for 18 weeks, I won the Ed -"

She breaks off, noticing that Booth is giving her a long, hard look. She looks down at her dinner, then looks back up at him and eats a French fry as if daring him to say something about her ego again.

Booth refuses to take the bait.

*******************************

Opening the door to his office, Booth ushers Pam Noonan through the door.

"Right this way."

She enters, then says: "Thanks for seeing me."

"Uh, it's my job." It's not a very gracious thing to say, but it's late, and so far, she hasn't offered any concrete information that makes him want to coddle her.

"That's precious," Pam says. She laughs, with a strange little wheeze on the end. "It's your job."

Booth doesn't see what's so funny about his job, but, well, he'd like to wrap this up quickly and get home. He walks behind his desk, faces her. "You said you had information about-"

She interrupts. "Hockey fan!" She points to a print of a Caps player trying to score on the Flyers. "I have that same print in my office." She tilts her head and shrugs. "And it's Pam. I have tickets to the Capitals. We should go sometime."

Booth furrows his brow and tries to figure out how this conversation got so off-track. "Miss Noonan, about the case..."

"Seeley, please. Pam. I need to ask you something."

"Uh, usually I ask the questions."

She steps toward him. "Are you dating Dr. Brennan?"

Surprised, Booth answers, "No. She's my partner."

"I see," Pam says with a little smile on her face. She spots a picture of Parker, grinning on the desktop. "Your nephew?"

"That's my son," Booth says, moving to block the picture from her view, as if to shield Parker from this disturbingly intense woman.

"You're married?" Pam asks, looking hurt.

"No, I'm not," he says brusquely. "Listen, I'm kinda busy here, Miss Noonan -"

She interrupts him again. "I brought you something." The hurt look has vanished from her face, and her voice is full of little-girl delight. She hands over a pretty gift bag, which Booth takes, almost against his will.

He raises his eyebrows as he pulls out a pair of striped socks. "Okay..."

"I know you've got a thing for socks." Her voice is full of laughter, as if it's some sort of private joke between the two of them.

"How did you, uh..."

"I noticed 'em the last time. On the outside, you're this big, tough FBI guy, but really you're just like me. Unpredictable. Like Tommy was."

Booth shakes his head. "Please -"

But before he goes any further with the 'I cannot take your socks' spiel, she interrupts him yet again. "I know. We shouldn't talk about our old flames, especially when we're just getting to know each other."

"Miss Noonan," Booth says, his voice firm, with just an edge of anger. "You said you had information about Tommy Sour's murder."

"Really?" she asks dreamily. "I have faith that you'll find out who killed him. And Tommy wouldn't want me to grieve forever." Her look is adoring, and she scans the room. "Look at all these commendations. You're really great at your job, aren't you?"

The gift bag, long since dropped, catch her eye, and she bends to pick them up. "It's one of the reasons I'm drawn to you."

Booth holds up his hands, socks still in hand. "Ma'am, this is way inappropriate."

Pam laughs at that. "Ma'am. That is so cute! I can't wait to tell my mom you just said that."

Holding the socks as if they somehow contain the answer to how this crazy conversation got so railroaded, Booth just stares at her.

"Well," Pam says. "Bye for now."

She turns to walk away, and takes one last look at Booth before going out the door.

Looking down at the socks in his hands, Booth tries to figure out what the hell just happened here.

((Sometime later))

OOM: An appropriate atmosphere of frivolity

((Sometime after this.))

After arresting Tommy Sour's neighbor for killing him (and seriously, what kind of a lame motive is that? Killing someone who makes too much noise? How freaking hard is it to just call the cops? The artistic temperament will never, ever make sense), Booth thinks a little bit of fun is in order.

After teasing Brennan about her claim to sing 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' better than Cyndi Lauper, he knows just what to do.

He calls her up, tells her he's got a loose end at the open mic night Tommy Sour used to sing at. He sets up the pianist with a $20, tells him to start playing the intro to the song as Bones walks in, and makes sure that all the squints (and even Sweets) are there to cheer her on.

With a little bit of persuasion, she's on the stage, jumping up and down and singing (amazingly well, with a strong, throaty voice that doesn't miss a single note). It's infectious, and everyone gets really into it. There's dancing in chairs (even one Seeley Booth) and clapping in time with the beat.

Booth's just congratulating himself on his awesome idea when his fun, low-key, silly night out turns into a nightmare.