It all happened too fast

A couple of things you should know. First, I haven't written solo in a while now. Second, this is my first Bones solo fanfiction. I've written a lot of Crossing Jordan fanfic, and this is my first attempt at another show. So reviews (especially those with constructive criticism) are nice.

And I don't own anything Bones related, except the season one and two DVDs. It all belongs to Fox, Hart Hanson, and Kathy Reich.

It all happened too fast. Too fast for even her rational, logical mind to process in the long run. Pam. The Checker Box. Booth getting shot. Booth dying. Booth's funeral. Booth's resurrection.

And then there was Gormagon. No, not just Gormagon. Gormagon's Apprentice.

Zach.

But mainly, there was Booth. He didn't betray her. Not really. He was just doing his job. He and the FBI took advantage of the situation to weed out a killer. Get rid of one more scumbag on the face of the earth before he had another chance to hurt anyone else. And give Booth one more chance to even out his cosmic balance sheet between extinguishing life and saving life.

At what cost, though? Although Booth hadn't exactly betrayed her, he set the wheels in motion for that betrayal. It was Sweets' act of omission that had directly done the damage.

Still… Temperance thought, still…Booth should have found a way to tell me himself. I mean, how much effort could it have taken? A text, an e-mail…a midnight visit to my place?

Rationally, her brain accepted his reasoning. Booth couldn't be held responsible for Sweets' actions, or rather inactions. And using the agent's faked death to flush out a criminal was a good idea. But the emotional side of her brain – the side that kept making itself known louder and louder these past two weeks – had yet to forgive him. Booth or Sweets for that matter. Despite the excuses that Booth and Sweets both had made to her, it all still settled like sawdust in her mouth.

Dry and bitter.

Temperance slammed her suitcase shut with a satisfied grunt. Her agent had been after her to take some time off to plan out her next book, to relax and come up with a plot. Now seemed as good a time as any. If she was to continue to function as Booth's partner, if she was to continue her work as the world's best forensic anthropologist, if she was maintain her status as a best-selling author, she needed to compartmentalize once again.

She just couldn't do it while having to look at Booth every day.

He had been back among the living for two weeks now, and she had yet to really talk to him. Oh sure, cases, yeah. She'd discourse on them in squint-speak for hours. Time of death, cause of death, method of death – Bones would spout fact, figures, and logic for hours.

But discuss Zach? No way. She'd change the subject in the proverbial heartbeat. Despite the fact that there was now a gaping hole in the squint squad, Bones seemed to be determined to look the other way. What was it Sweets said she was good at?

Compartmentalizing, Booth's brain prompted. Oh yeah, that. Compartmentalizing. Putting different aspects of her life in different places so they don't bother each other. Like putting different pairs of shoes in different shoeboxes, only pulling out the pair she needed to go with the outfit she was wearing that day.

Compartmentalizing. Not dealing with her feelings is what it is, Booth thought, as he sat behind the desk in his office, pretending to do paperwork. Paperwork that wasn't getting done because his thoughts kept drifting back to his partner and her apparent inability to deal with her emotions. Okay, maybe not inability, but she definitely doesn't want to talk to me about them.

Booth had his qualms about psychology. Like Bones, he agreed that it was a "soft science" or maybe it was just a damned nuisance. But ever since the chain of events was put into play beginnng with the Checker Box, she hadn't been herself. He saw her face at his funeral. While standing in the line to give the 21-gun salute, he watched her. Her fidgeting. Ever fiber of her body screaming out that she didn't want to be there. She would much rather be at the lab, letting herself get lost in her work than be there dealing with the fact that he was "dead." For a woman that continuously stated she was logical and rational, it was the second time he had seen her have problems dealing with reality. The first time was after Christine Brennan's remains had been found at the Jeffersonian and Bones had to question who she really was and how much of her history was real and how much of it was fiction.

Wadding up the piece of paper he had been doodling on, Booth shot it towards the trashcan. He had inadvertently put her back in that same position. He had rocked her world with a lie – even though it was done for a good cause. He had faked his death, betrayed her trust, and walked out of her life just like so many other people had done.

The paper wad hit the rim of the trashcan and bounced in with a satisfying thud.

And he had no doubt that the fall out of those actions was just beginning.

"Can I talk to you a minute?"

Tearing her eyes away from the notes she was going over concerning her last autopsy, Cam glanced up to see Dr. Temperance Brennan standing in the office doorway.

"Dr. Brennan. Sure."

Social settings were not Brennan's strong point. Neither were office politics. While she and Cam would probably never have the same relationship that she and Angela had, Temperance had developed a healthy respect for her boss, despite the fact that her partner and Cam once had a sexual relationship.

And somewhere, Temperance's and Cam's relationship was rolled into both a social and office political one, making this doubly uncomfortable. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her lab coat and slightly rolling her shoulders, Temperance hesitantly entered Cam's office.

"I need to ask you something," she began.

"If it's about Zach's replacement, I haven't made a dec…"

"It's not about that," Temperance interrupted abruptly. She clinched her hands into tight fists in her lab coat's pockets. "I need some time off."

Cam put down her notes and let her eyes wander over Dr. Brennan, noting her pinched face and carefully controlled features. The last month had been hard on them all, but probably hardest on Temperance. Yes, at one time, Cam and Booth had been close – that was common knowledge. But any thought of anything permanent had been quashed as soon as Cam noticed how Booth looked at Brennan.

And how Brennan looked at him. There was no doubt in Cam's mind that Temperance had been hurt over Booth's faked death. During the two weeks he had been gone, she had watched the forensic anthropologist struggle against her emotions and bury herself in her work.

Then there was the matter of Zach, who had been Brennan's protégé but ended up being Gormagon's Apprentice. No doubt the woman had been dealt a double whammy of the most emotional kind.

"How much?"

Temperance let her eyes flicker over her boss's face. Cam wasn't defensive. Instead, if she was reading Cam correctly, the woman's face was sympathetic. "I was thinking about two weeks, but I'd like longer if possible."

"An extended leave of absence, maybe?"

Temperance nodded.

"How does a month sound?" Cam asked, pulling the paperwork from a folder in her file drawer.

"It wouldn't back things up here?" Despite her roiling emotional state, Temperance's job always came first.

"Not too badly. We've got some grad students that are willing and eager. And if anything major comes up, I can give you a call?" The last statement was more of a question.

Temperance nodded and took the forms from Cam's outstretched hand. Thirty days should do it. It would allow her time and distance to get her head together

And her emotions in check.