Okay, so I'm still fairly new to this fandom, so let me know how I'm doing.

Pairing: You have three guesses... (hint: what does everybody on this fandom write?)

Disclaimer: If I owned Bones, our favourite non-couple would be a non-couple no longer.


I hit the 'snooze' button on my alarm clock.

Today, I'm going to tell her.

I'm going to tell Temperance Brennan how much I love her. I've been putting it off too long, I decide as I drag myself out of bed into the bathroom, the bright-red clock digits still burning in my eyes.

Before I lie down in bed tonight, I will have told her how I feel.

And if it works out right, maybe she'll be lying with me.

I splash my face with cold water to fully wake myself up before stepping into a hot shower. As I wash, I try to remember last night's dream. It was a good dream, so it must have been about her. Well, she's in all off my dreams. Good ones, like last night's, feature our first kiss, our wedding day or the birth of one of our children. She's in my nightmares too… somehow we'll be separated forever, or someone will be hurting her. The thought of anything ever happening to her makes anger boil up inside of me and I have to force myself to be calm.

I set my mind to other things; like hoping that we might have a case today, so I don't have to invent an excuse to call her, or go and see her.

I stepped out of the shower and got dry, preparing myself for the day ahead. Fifteen minutes later, slice of toast in hand, I walk out of my apartment. I start the car, knowing that I could be seeing her in less than an hour; praying that I would be seeing her in less than an hour.


In less than an hour, I was pulling away from the Jeffersonian with her sitting in the passenger seat. My prayers had been answered; a fresh case had been waiting on my desk as soon as I arrived.

She's talking nineteen-to-the-dozen (but she wouldn't like that phrase because she won't know what it means because, of course, there are only twelve in a dozen, not nineteen) about… something. I'm not really listening to what she's actually saying… I'm too distracted by just hearing her voice. And her smell. The whole car is a gas chamber for her smell. Every time I breathe in, that's all there is. It's what makes travelling in the car with her so enjoyable.

I wonder if I should tell her now. We're all alone and it makes sense.

But that would mean I'd have to interrupt her. She'd have to stop talking.

No, I'll wait a bit. I just love listening to her.


We finally reach the crime scene and get out of the car. She's getting her overalls from the trunk when an earth-shattering bang rings out. Instinctively, we dive for the ground and I protect her with my body. Again, anger boils up inside of me when I think about what could happen to her, with a shooter in the area.

A moment later, I'm counting my blessings and thanking God; it was just a car backfiring. I stand up and offer her my hand to help her.

The feeling of her soft, cold skin against my palm is impossible to forget.

She forgets instantly, pulling on her overalls and starting to work.

I can't forget. I'll hold that feeling for as long as I can.


Night falls and we're back at the museum. She's doing something with the remains and she's alone.

Now, I tell myself. Tell her now.

I walk up to her and get her attention by calling her name. It's now or never.

She looks at me expectantly.

I open my mouth to speak, but falter. Thoughts are shooting through my brain like burning arrows.

What if she doesn't feel the same?

What if she rejects me?

What if she's with someone but hasn't told me?

What if…

"Goodnight Bones," I mutter as I turn to leave, ashamed of my own cowardice.

I recover quickly, however.

I'll tell her tomorrow, I say to myself.