Booth was running late for work, and his apartment building elevator was broken, so he had to run down the stairs, with his scorching hot coffee, which was spilling down his hands. Then he tripped, falling down the stairs, and somehow landing on his back, coffee spilt all over his white suit shirt. Booth looked at his watch, and decided he didn't have time to change. Booth smashed the cup in his burned hands, and threw it in the garbage, missing. Why did he forget his thermos at work last night?

He had forgotten to pick up his mail last night, also, distracted by the fact that he would be doing paper work alone, without her. Again.

Booth fumbled for the key in his pocket. He drew it out, and opened the mailbox, taking the pile of mail out of the box, and running to his car, cutting his thumb on a fancy piece of paper.

He started the engine, and quickly found that there was horrible traffic. He took this opportunity to look through his mail, setting aside the piece mail that had cut him, disgusted by it, oddly.

He got a couple of bills, including the rent, letters from Parker's school, probably about returning to school- all the paperwork, the supply list, and the classes his son would be taking.

Then there was the junk mail, which Booth threw to the back of his car.

However the only thing that was different about his mail was the nice looking, formal invitation of some kind. That thing, Booth already hated it, was the reason that he was sucking on his slit finger.

It wasn't from the FBI or the Jeffersonian.

Booth ripped open the letter, and read it quickly. Then read it thoroughly. Then re-re-read it.

He still didn't seem to understand the letter, so he read it aloud.

A few cars honked, and Booth realized he had a clear path, so he stepped on the gas, hard, speeding down the highway, anxious to get to Bones, crumbling the invitation into his palm.

Meanwhile, Doctor Temperance Brennan was in her office, sipping her coffee thoughtfully. She hated lying to Booth, she could barely look at him, in fear that he would know. Know that she was seeing someone, actually seeing them, not just screwing with them, that she was unraveling her self into someone, that she was shipping her self away, because she knew that no one could stand her around anymore.

Everyone had moved on, so she had to, also, before she was forgotten, before they replaced her.

However she was afraid that if she looked at him, he would know that she was lying, that she was hiding from him. Hiding from everyone.

She had to keep her distance, but that was hard to do with Booth, because he knew her so well, too well, he knew all the 'tricks up her arm'.

Brennan was lost in her thoughts when Booth ran into her office, and she didn't notice him until her office door slammed behind him.

"Bones!" He cried, breathing heavily, desperately. She looked up at him, guarding her red rimmed eyes.

"Yes?" She asked, but Booth didn't answer, he looked like he needed reassurance, like something was horribly wrong, like he was having a bad dream. "Booth? What happened? Are you okay?" Brennan asked, his eyes haunting her, suddenly she felt frantic, "Is Parker okay?"

"Everyone's fine." Booth said, sitting on Brennan's couch.

Brennan was frozen at her computer desk, staring at Booth, unsure, confused.

They were both speechless, but then something inside of Booth snapped, it seemed that he had finally digested something, something big.

"I know." Booth stated, his hands shaking, clasped together.

Brennan was confused as to what he was referring to, for about five seconds. Then world stopped spinning.

No, not metaphorically, it literally stopped. Tipped. Crumbled. Fell on top of her.

Everything was out of place, and it couldn't ever fit together again, like it had been. The world was crooked, wrong.

The constant was broken, traditions were buried in the ground.

Land was uncharted, dangerous, unnerving.

Trust broken. Faith dismantled.

Brennan was struggling with a response, but here was nothing left to say. No excuses that would make it okay.

Surprisingly Booth wasn't screaming at Brennan. He was taking it in, very well.

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone." She said, not quite looking his in the eyes.

"You lied." He, however, was looking her in the eyes.

"I didn't pretend." She whispered.

"You used me." He reminded her, still, disturbingly calm.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Booth couldn't seem to comprehend what Brennan was saying. "Sorry?" He repeated.

"Yes, I'm sorry. It was wrong of me, terribly wrong."

"You deserve to go to hell." Booth shook his head, standing up, and walking toward Brennan, she stood

also, defensively.

"What did you want me to say?" She asked, her eye twitched, her lower lip trembled.

"You could have tried the truth." He replied quickly, staring her down. Their eyes locked.

"Do you want my excuse?" She asked, her eye brows scrunched together.

Pleading.

She was begging him to hear her out.