Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

Click. Click. Click.

Pen meets paper, hesitant at first before finding courage at the last and writing her name with long and smooth strokes. She leans back in her chair, staring at her signature before looking at her pen. Click.

"Hello? Hello?"

The phone slips from her ear as she walks across the platform, half of her trying to make arrangements and the other half trying to read the file she's supposed to know backwards and forwards and lengthwise and crosswise for court next week. She stoops, only to lose her grip on her precious cargo and finding herself squatting amid a careless myriad of papers and words, pictures and facts. The voice comes from her phone again. "Hello?"

Drop. Drop. Drop. Drop.

Ripples move water, a soft pattern emerging in the white tub, the same one holding her body for ransom. It's verging on cold, intolerable because of it's in between-ness and making no apologies. Her fingers are wrinkled and she admires the rough patterns, counting the ridges that cry out for release. The spigot gives its answer. Drop.

"Ms. Brennan. Ms. Brennan."

The need to correct the traveling agent is not on her tongue, not in her bones, not on her mind. Awkward, yes, but so removed from Dr. Brennan and what she's become and who she knows. It's a breath of fresh air forced upon her, callous and aggravating, but just as stubborn as she is. Perhaps she's always been her. "Ms. Brennan."

"Are you…. Are you…."

Disbelief mars Cam's features, raging and dancing as if a fire has been started and too many exits are available for salvation. With a nod, she points to the neatly filled out papers in Cam's hand. Silently replying that 'everything is there.' She really is too tired to speak these days, too drawn out by what her life has become and what it hasn't. Turning, she can barely hear Cam asking her back the same unfinished question. "Are you…."

Yes. Yes.

The day is almost done by the time Angela finds her in her office, bent over a journal with a single lamplight on. She can tell by the simple air that follows her free friend, that whatever has brought her here is meant to stop her, Dr. Brennan, from leaving.

"Yes," she simply states into the clean air, her lips finally marking her thoughts out loud.

"When?"

"A week."

She can tell the woman is finding it hard to say anything, or maybe she just knows if she doesn't say the right thing, she'll never hear the right thing.

"Why now?"

"You think I shouldn't?"

It sounds harsh, even to her ears, but it's an honest question to an equally honest question, which is in itself worthless. But she knows Angela understands. That's her great gift, her best one, the one that will end up breaking her one day.

"You need it, don't you?"

With a short nod, she implies the answer is simple, and for now, they both pretend it is. Yes.

"Good. It's good."

"It's not a big deal."

Hodgins looks at her, his mouth parting as if to say something else but closing just as soon with a forced smile. He puts his hand on her elbow, softly rubbing her skin.

"I'm not leaving for a few days, Hodgins."

"I know, but I think this is good for you. It's a big step, I mean."

"Thank you. I think."

"Dr. Brennan," he smiles as begins walking backwards, "Good. It's good."

"Really?"

A plastic filled thud is heard as he drops his black dot into the yellow toy holder. She smiles as she reaches for her red piece, wondering why she's had to come to a psychiatric unit to find some solace, and whether he'll beat her this round again.

"I've wanted to go back for a while."

"You love working at the Jeffersonian, though."

Zack frowns, focusing on their created pattern, and she sees him back at the lab on his first day squinting over a mummy and looking as zoned out to the world as she does at times.

"It's just a sabbatical. Nothing permanent."

Now she's the one who's frowning as she realizes he's one piece away from connecting four. Her fingers spin the circular part as she raises it to the slit in the holder, faltering only when he leans forward on his elbows to stare directly at her.

"I don't think you should go. You might not want to come back."

Shaking her head, she drops the piece in resignation, trying to hide an unspoken fear he's grabbed and shaken.

"I will."

His stare is heartbreaking and familiar. It's time for her to go. She stands, one hand pushing the chair in as she turns to walk away, having to stop when he says her name, having to turn around because he deserves that much.

"Really?"

"Bones! Bones! Bones!"

The thick fingers latch onto the dark blue fabric of her lab coat as she walks into her office. She stops, turning sharply and breathing in the aftershave and cologne that for a flashing second, makes her sick with nausea.

"Were you going to tell me?"

"Of course."

Booth throws his hand behind his head, slightly rubbing his skull before throwing both of his, at the moment, useless hands into the tired pockets of his slacks. She watches him curiously as she unbuttons her lab coat and throws it over the hanger before sitting down behind her desk and watching him pace the floor.

"You're acting like I quit. I didn't."

"Well, you did the next best thing!"

She flinches at his tone, tilting her head slightly as he walks forward to meet her desk. Whether it's hesitation or fear she doesn't know, though she hardly knows why he should feel either.

"Bones, Brennan, this is something you should have told me. I thought we were," he brings one hand and motions in the air, "friends."

"We are."

Frustrated, his hands find use again, bursting out of his pockets and resting on her neat desk, letting his weight bear on them, letting him lean close to her.

"You'll be back?"

"Booth," she glances down at her fingers before finding his gaze again. "It's just a short term sabbatical."

He swallows, the muscles around his mouth twitching twice before he finally gains control. His voice is coarser than he'd expected. "It's been over two years since Goodman left."

There's not much she can say to that. She can't say it's a lie. It isn't. She can say there's a reason. She doesn't know. All she can do is exhale softly and wish she was sorry. She isn't.

"Booth, I….I didn't even know I was going to do it until I had the papers in front of me. If I'd known for a while, I would've told you."

There's relaxation, slight and unnoticeable. "Where are you going?"

"Kenya," she smiles.

It's hard for him to see her almost happy for the first time in a few long months. To be happy to leave them. "With lions?"

A small scoff releases from her throat. "It's a beautiful place, Booth."

Straightening, he flattens his tie against his body, trying to prolong the short unnecessary visit, and finding he can't stay here knowing she's itching to get away.

"I've got to, uh, go pick up Paker."

"Oh, okay. I'll see you later then."

"Yeah," he smiles crookedly, taking a step away from her and already feeling the distance he supposes was between them all along. "Bye, Bones."

She watches his retreating back, almost feeling as if she's missed something, or maybe she isn't missing anything at all. It could be she's never been 'Bones,' never taken those three steps forward to fall five back. It doesn't sound familiar, at least. Bones. Bones. Bones.