Okay, so this was inspired by the song "I Saw the Light" but I don't really like putting the lyrics in fics…it seems to draw and distract from the story. If you know the song, you'll recognize some elements.

PS – this is not the companion piece to "A Little More You" but it is song-inspired. I may start a series with these, we'll see.

AN added on 26 Oct 07: This is currently second in a series I've entitled "Inspired" Predictably, the fics are inspired by songs I've heard on the radio. For more info, go to my bio.

Temperance Brennan was not the romantic type. She had relationships that were mutually beneficial to both parties involved and, the minute it became beneficial, she broke it off. But something about him set her heart beating faster. She had never felt like this before and she found that she was enjoying it.

She eyed the single red rose on the front seat next to her. They had planned to meet at the FBI's annual ball, but she couldn't resist teasing him just a little before hand. Which is why she was driving to his place at three in the morning. She had written a simple message on the note, conveying her feelings to him where her voice failed her.

She gave a satisfied smile as she pulled up and fingered the rose stem. Creeping up to his door she carefully laid the rose and rang his doorbell. She turned to go, but stopped just outside the window's field of vision when the curtains moved. Her heart froze in her chest as she made out two shadows in the silhouetting light. They were entwined together as lovers would be, holding each other tightly, and Brennan felt her blood run cold. She darted back to her car as quickly as she could, completely forgetting the rose on the mat.

She held her tears at bay until she was home. The minute she was inside and locked in, the floodgates opened and every wound in her heart was reopened. She had trusted him to be the one who wouldn't hurt her. She knew he had a wild-streak; that didn't bother her. There were times she, too, enjoyed her independence. But she had finally allowed herself to love again, to care about someone deeply, after the pain of her parents' abandonment. In one fell swoop, he had broken her, and she didn't know if she even wanted to be fixed.

She moved absently through her living room and into her bedroom, falling gracelessly onto the bed. Exhaustion finally caught up with her as she lay there, thinking of him. As her eyes drifted shut, one thought rolled through her brain, and she felt it sorely lacking.

Damn you, Tim Sullivan.

She woke up early that afternoon to her cell phone ringing incessantly. Seeing it was Angela, she cleared the sleepiness from her voice and answered in her best exasperated tone.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweetie…you busy?"

"A little. I need to finish this next chapter in my book." It wasn't a complete lie, but Brennan still felt bad. But she also didn't want to talk about what had happened in the early hours of the morning.

"Well, I was just calling to see if you had a dress all picked out for this evening?" Damn, Brennan thought.

"Uh, honestly Ange, I didn't even think about it. I'm sure I have something here."

"Are you kidding?" her voice raised an octave. "You have to get something gorgeous. I, personally, wish I was going with you. Booth in a tux? Ooh, thank you sir." Brennan rolled her eyes at her friend's constant antics.

"Ange…" she warned, but her heart wasn't in it.

"So is Sully picking you up?" she asked, genuinely curious. Brennan was grateful she wasn't talking to Angela face to face; the anguish in her features would have clued the artist in immediately.

"No, we're supposed to be meeting there," she said calmly, as if her world hadn't come crashing down.

"Is Booth bringing anyone?"

"I don't know, Ange," Brennan sighed, "I suppose so. But he doesn't run all of his social plans by me. I'm not his keeper."

"I was just wondering if I could score an invite. Perhaps I'll call up our favorite G-man."

"You do that, Ange. I'll talk to you later; I need to start getting ready."

"Okay, sweetie. But as you're searching through your no doubt vast wardrobe, I want you to pick out something that screams 'Take me now!' to every male in the room, especially Booth." This got a chuckle out of Brennan as they said goodbye, and her mind wandered to her partner. She would have to tell him eventually, she mused. There was no way she could stay with Sully now, and Booth would want to know why. Any lie she could conceive would be seen through in about three seconds, and he would press her until she spilled everything. It would just be easier to explain things to him calmly.

Yeah, and watch him explode, she finished. She grimaced as she pictured a post-explanation confrontation between Booth and Sully and, though Sully could hold his own, he was no match for a vengeful Booth. And he would, despite her constant objections, be a true alpha male.

As she thought of possible outcomes, she found herself almost thrilled at the idea of Booth knocking some sense into Sully. Deep down, she knew violence was not the solution to every problem (though occasionally it helped out a little). And even though the independence of her nature despised it, the thought of Booth standing up for her and protecting her sent a small part of her psyche shivering.

She recalled his fighting prowess displayed in Vegas and allowed herself a small smile at the sight of his stunned face as she exited the bathroom. The dress he had picked out for her was fantastic; he had great taste. He was also male, she had realized, and didn't fail to notice how the dress had accentuated every fine feature of her body. But his clothes had not done his body justice, and she remembered not being able to tear her eyes away from his body when he shucked his jacket and began wailing on Joe's punching bags. His form and power had impressed her, and he only got better as he fought the giant of a man in the underground fight.

Suddenly, she furrowed her brow. When had she become this person who fantasized about her partner's body? True, he had a great physical form and a well-developed structure. She knew he worked out at least four times a week, and had even gone jogging with him on occasion. But she had never felt her heart race like it was now as she remembered how incredibly male he had been in Vegas.

She stood and moved over to her wardrobe, searching for a dress appropriate enough for this ball. It wasn't completely formal, so something relatively sexy would be acceptable. Only now, with Sullivan's betrayal, she thought that maybe she didn't want to be sexy. She would meet him tonight; spend the evening being sociable and polite to his coworkers. After it was over, she would let him escort her home and she would break it off there. No mess, no complications. She would let him know what she'd seen; he couldn't deny the truth.

So what dress do you wear for that?

She fingered through her collection, hoping to find one not to revealing but not too conservative. Her hands landed on one and an image flashed in her head: Booth, bleeding but triumphant, and her in that dress with her arms around him. She remembered the smell, the sweat mixed with the blood and the unique musk that was just Booth. Again, the thought of Booth confronting Sully crossed her mind, and she surmised there was no better way to tell Sully it was over than to wear that dress. She knew Booth would call her on it – that was his way. She rolled her eyes as she played the scenario through her mind. She would walk in, wearing this dress, and maybe she would attract some attention. But only Booth would know its significance, only he would know its origins. And he would confront her, probably drag her outside, and get the whole story. From there, the scenario could go one of two ways. She could calm him down enough not to storm into the ball, deck Sullivan, and get them thrown out (and probably censured by the bureau). Or she couldn't, and they would ride back to his place, or hers, relax with a couple of beers, and he would tell her how sorry he was that it didn't work out with Sullivan, but that he wasn't sorry he punched him.

Yes, she thought, this dress is perfect. Pulling it off the hanger, she strolled into the bathroom to take a shower.

She fingered the hem nervously as the taxi pulled up outside the hotel. She didn't really recognize any of the people milling about outside, so when the valet opened her door she stepped out quickly and made her way inside. She didn't fail to notice some of the stares that followed her, but as she ascended the staircase she saw Cullen enter the far ballroom doors with his wife and she hurried after him.

When she stepped inside, the sound of soft music reached her ears. The murmur of the crowd added a nice element, and it didn't seem too oppressive. A bar had been set up on the far wall, and she could see several people already had wine or champagne glasses.

She heard a very familiar laugh from somewhere on her right, so she moved through the crowd quickly toward the noise. When she pushed around the last person she saw Angela standing there in a radiant emerald gown, her arm slung through Booth's casually. They were speaking with an agent Brennan thought she'd seen around the bureau, but she couldn't recall his name. The moment she came into view, however, Booth's eyes snapped to her, and she thought she saw his mouth drop a little bit. Angela, seeing his reaction, turned to her and grinned widely.

"That," she said, extricating herself from Booth and moving to her side, "Is the dress I was talking about." Brennan hugged her friend quickly in greeting, grateful that at least another person she knew was here. Angela led her over to Booth and his counterpart, but Booth seemed to have lost the ability of speech. Angela took the liberty of introduction.

"Dr. Temperance Brennan, this is Agent Michael Parkinson. He's a junior agent in homicide, so you may have seen him around. Booth was just regaling me of their wild stories before we were stuck with him." Brennan shook the man's hand politely and smiled at Booth, who seemed to have recovered slightly.

"Bones you look…" he checked his tongue and filled in a more appropriate word. "Nice."

"That is hot," another voice said from behind them, and though she recovered quickly, she knew Booth had seen the anguish in her eyes. She turned to Sullivan and offered a smile.

"Glad you think so," she answered slowly. He pulled her into his body intimately, whispering in her ear.

"I got the rose, thank you," he said. "And, damn, are you sexy," he finished as she pulled away. His hands on her waist seared her skin underneath, and she resisted the urge to push him away from her.

Booth surveyed the scene with a calm stare, but underneath his cool exterior he was bristling. That was the dress…the red, sexy piece she had worn in Vegas. He loved her in the black one he'd bought, but when she'd put on the red one it took all he had not to grab her and never let go. And now here she was, with him, in that dress. His hands on her waist drove him crazy, and his mind replayed the look in her eyes when he'd appeared. It was an emotion he hadn't seen her express before, and he was having a hard time placing it. It was something like anguish, but deeper, and he started to wonder about her motives for wearing that dress. She was fully aware of what it meant, what it represented, and he couldn't bring himself to believe she would wear it just for Sully.

She wore it for you.

He shook the thought from his head. Brennan didn't do things like that. If she had feelings for him, she would say so; that was her way. So why wear the dress? His mind kept replaying the question over and over until he realized Angela had taken his arm again and was speaking quietly to him.

"Did you see the way she reacted to him? Very strange. And when I called her at one this afternoon, she tried to sound awake. But I know I woke her up."

"At one? Bones?"

"Trouble in paradise, maybe?" Angela smiled, and Booth nudged her playfully. "Come on, Seeley," Angela tried again, using his given name to gain his undivided attention. "You're not fooling me…in fact the only person you're fooling is yourself. And maybe Bren. But that's it."

"She's with Sully, Angela," he said, not realizing he hadn't bothered to deny her accusation. When her eyes twinkled with merriment, he realized his mistake. "No, Angela I­ –"

"Shut it, G-man. I have stood by you guys, behind the scenes, trying to manipulate the hands of fate from afar. I've had enough." She dragged him away from Sully and Brennan over to a deserted corner. "Are you or are you not in love with Brennan?" she asked straight forward.

Booth knew he could lie, like all the other times, and deny the attraction between them. In all honesty, he hadn't felt like this since Rebecca, and even then it was a fraction of what it was now. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply.

"Yeah, Ange…I love her." To her credit, Angela restrained herself to a small hop and a brief hug.

"Then you need to go for it. You'll never know until you try and ­–"

"That's just it, Angela," he said, his voice betraying his frustration. "If I do 'go for it' and it doesn't work, how will it affect our working relationship?"

"It's already affecting that relationship, Booth," she reasoned. "And for your next question, the blockade that is Sullivan won't be an obstacle much longer."

"How do you know?" he asked curiously, glancing over to the couple.

"I have a sixth sense," she told him seriously. "Sure, Sully's good for her and fun to be around, but he's a free-spirit, Booth. He won't stick around. And when he leaves, he'll try to take Brennan with him, and that'll tear her apart. The longer this goes on, the more she'll be inclined to go. You have to give her a reason to stay."

"He hasn't expressed any interest in leaving, much less taking her with him," Booth argued, trying to use Brennan logic on his completely illogical friend.

"Look," Angela said, trying a different approach, "Something's going on between those two," she thumbed back in their general direction. "Neither of us missed the look on her face. You should at least ask what's wrong…as a friend." Booth stared at the artist for a while before nodding and straightening his checkered tie. He offered her a small smile of thanks before she bounded off toward the bar, presumably to get a drink and a phone number.

"Can I cut in?" he asked politely, and Sully gave a small smile.

"Sure, but just this once," he teased, walking to the bar for refreshment. Booth took Brennan in his arms and didn't miss the relief on her face. Spouting the 'now or never' motto, he called her on it.

"So what's going on, Bones? You haven't ever been that relieved to see me - barring crazed psychopaths - and you didn't seem too happy to see him," He threw his head in the direction of the bar, but they both knew who he meant.

"Nothing's going on, Booth," she told him quickly. "What makes you think that?" She cursed herself silently. She knew it was only a matter of time before he found out, but she couldn't bring herself to just come out and say it. Sensing her hesitation, he pulled her a little closer and whispered in her ear.

"I'm here for you, Temperance. Let me in." He had meant it as a gesture of love, a stepping stone to admitting his feelings. But when he pulled back and saw the tears in her eyes, he stopped dancing and led her to the balcony.

She had left her wrap at the door, so he shrugged his jacket off and placed it around her shoulders, only shivering slightly in the cool spring air. He knew something was really wrong when she didn't even offer up her normal alpha male argument, but snuggled deeper into the jacket. She moved away from him, and he gave her space to collect her thoughts. It was so silent for so long, he actually jumped a little when she started speaking.

"I was out driving early this morning," she said quietly, and he took a small step toward her to hear her better. "I went to Sully's to drop off…" she stopped, wondering if he would think her gesture stupid and cliché. "...to drop off a rose on his doorstep. I rang the doorbell and turned to leave when..." she trailed off again, and Booth resisted the urge to wrap an arm around her for comfort. She had made a huge gesture, for her anyway, and if what he think had happened had, he knew he would need as much self-restraint as possible.

"The curtains shifted," she continued quickly, "and I saw him…with someone else. It wasn't just a friend or a relative, either," she said cynically, "Unless the laws have changed recently." He shook his head sadly at her attempt at levity, and his blood boiled. Sullivan had everything anyone ever needed in Temperance Brennan, and he was fooling around with another woman.

"I couldn't stay, Booth. I ran. And I couldn't –"

"What's going on out here?" an overly-friendly voice cut into their conversation and Brennan saw Booth's fist clench violently. She turned away from Sullivan, not wanting him to see her tears, but she wasn't fast enough. "Tempe, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" He moved over and laid a hand on her back in comfort, and that was all it took. Booth took two steps forward and wrenched the shorter man away.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, thoroughly confused by his friend's behavior.

"Don't you dare," Booth hissed. "Don't you dare think you can touch her now." He stepped in front of Temperance, shielding her from Sullivan and allowing her time to compose herself. But she didn't need too much time, it seemed, as she pushed Booth sideways and looked directly at a very confused Sullivan.

"I was there, Tim," she told him, "This morning. I dropped off the rose at about three. You were probably asleep," she left the statement hanging, its accusation clear. For his part, Sullivan didn't deny it. He sighed and took a step back, both to compose himself and get a little more distance between himself and Booth.

"Look, Tempe," he tried, and Booth growled.

"If an apology so much as graces your lips I'll deck you, Sullivan."

"Booth!" Brennan scolded, pushing him back farther. "I can handle this. Go inside."

"No," he said simply, and she couldn't suppress the shiver. His tone was definitive; he was not leaving her alone. His alpha was out full force and she knew there was no arguing. Taking a step toward Sullivan she crossed her arms.

"Look, Sully," she started, "Obviously this isn't working. You should go…devote yourself to her. She can probably give you more than me." She felt, rather than saw, Booth step up right behind her, wanting to argue fiercely. But she pressed on before he could speak. "We had fun, Tim, but that's all it was in the end. You need more, and I don't know you well enough to begin to trust you with everything I am. You don't do complicated…isn't that what you told me once? Go then." Her dismissal seemed to be everything he needed and Sullivan nodded.

Brennan was shocked. She had expected more of a fight, accusations thrown in her face about her and Booth, anything but this quiet acceptance. That was when she knew he was never really going to get her. As Sullivan walked back inside dejectedly, she watched with some sadness. She could feel the heat radiating off Booth's body and she leaned back against his chest instinctively, drawing from his warmth. His hands came up to her shoulders, massaging her upper arms slowly.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he said. "I didn't mean to go all alpha male on you. It's just…" He trailed off, knowing he couldn't tell her now; not when she'd just gotten her heart broken. She just chuckled and turned around, staring into his eyes.

"Actually, you did better than I thought you would," she said. "I expected you and him to be thrown out of here for brawling." He just offered her a lopsided smile.

"Oh believe me, I thought about it. But I have amazing self-control." If you only knew. She just laughed at him and leaned into his embrace, letting his strong arms wrap around her. "You'll be okay, Bones," he whispered, planting a soft kiss into her hair.

"You know what I want right now?" she asked quietly, and he forced himself to concentrate on her words and not on her body pressed against his.

"What?" he answered softly.

"A hot cup of coffee and a piece of pie," she murmured into his shoulder, and he let loose a genuine laugh. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door.

"Let's go," he said, and he led her through the throng of people to the coat check. After reclaiming his coat and her shawl, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to his SUV. He opened her door for her, offering her a small bow in jest. She rolled her eyes, but didn't climb in. When he righted himself to voice his confusion, she leaned in and kissed him softly. He barely had time to register the sensation when she pulled back.

"What was that for?" he asked huskily, brushing a wisp of hair away from her face. His answer was a very non-Brennan like shrug and she climbed in. He laughed at her and shut the door before moving to his side. He stole a sideways glance as they drove down the road to the diner. He had no idea where they were headed from there, but he knew she would be beside him the entire way, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

You know, I honestly didn't mind Sullivan, but I was so thankful when he left. As strange as it may sound, I'm really wondering what's going to happen when he returns from his year long trip in March...