An: So I was watching a fan video and it had the last scene of the finale this year to the song Airplanes, but it was only Hayley Williams' part and just watching Brennan's reaction kinda propelled me into this, and now that I think about it, I'm sure more of these moments are going to come through at some point, so I'm keeping this as a multi-chap. It's going to be a collection of one shots in Angela's point of view about different situations she sees between Booth and Brennan. Like I said, this one is about the Season 5 Finale.

Be Warned! Muse Ran Story! XD

With everything in life, there are the people who can see the greatest of happenstances, while others scoff and push it away; following their ground-in 'seeing is believing' personality, and sending the other person into oblivion.

Sometimes that person is hurt, and sometimes that person is angry. If you tell it to someone you care about, and they push it of, you will always feel lost, and I feel that that is what I have done to her.

We all put our two cents into the situation. Hell I have from the beginning, but now, all these years later, I finally see the error in my ways. Or maybe it's not so much an error as it is a consequence.

I see the way she looks at him when she's feeling that spark, or that undeniable pressure in your chest that makes you want to throw yourself into a lover's embrace; and I see how it is quickly replaced with pain, before...emptiness. Rationality.

And I know the way he looks at her, because I've been watching it for years. It is still new to her, because her perceptions only opened this year.

I know that darkening of his eyes, but the softening in his features as if to place all who he is; brute burdened soldier; right in front of her to exam, so that maybe she'll bust down her walls and offer her vulnerable self to him.

He doesn't want her in bed; per say; and he defiantly doesn't want to hurt her, he just wants to show her how a woman can feel when a man is truly and utterly, head over heels, soaring over the moon; in love with her.

And for so long I have been witness to this dance, this pure unadulterated torture, that I fight the urge to push them together when I know the time is right. Because I know when the time is right.

His lips will open and he'll whisper something to her that completely shatters her protection of herself, and calms her as if God was telling her the path to eternal happiness. Then her eyes will sparkle, and her heart will pulse louder than normal, but at first she won't care. They'll glance at each other's lips and their minds will work until they completely shut down, but they shut down in either two ways; but so far in their relationship, one way is favored.

Their hearts, minds, bodies, and souls will tell them to fall together, to just screw everything else and worry only about themselves in that single moment, but then they'll step back and for the first time in their lives think before they act.

He'll say to himself that she is his partner, and that she is his best friend; a best friend that can't be pushed the way he is pushing her. He'll say that he doesn't want her to leave, and so he won't do it, if only to keep her around for a little while longer.

While at the same time her genius mind is reeling, the alarms ringing as she goes into lock down and all of the doors seal off. She'll say almost the same thing; that he is her partner, and her best friend, and that she doesn't want him to leave, but instead of being afraid of pushing him too far, she's afraid she herself will propel him away; as far away as similar magnetic poles in two magstars.

I see how dependent they are on each other, but I also see how much that hurts each other, and when I sit and think about these two beautiful people it makes me sad to think that they will NEVER be happy until they are together.

But that will never happen until they themselves, figure out this game and simultaneously lean forward when that moment is right…when the thumping in their hearts is strong, their eyes are fleeting, their skin is prickling, and their lips are parted to take in labored breaths and prepare for a passionate kiss that might shatter everything good in their happiness deprived lives.

"Everything has to be bad, before it's ever good."

"What'd you say Angie?" Hodgins asked from the kitchen, stepping out into the living room and frowning at his wife's sad expression. "Are you okay?"

"Everything has to be bad, before it's good," she repeated, her brown eyes meeting the bright blue eyes of her husband. "Right?"

"Um, yeah," he nodded, smiling and moving to sit beside the thoughtful artist. "I think we're a perfect example of that."

Angela sighed and shook her head, reaching for the calming hand of the love of her life, before she settled her head on his shoulder and melted into his hold around her. "I wish something could just…guide them into realizing that."

Ever since Angela had been able to talk to Brennan while she was in Maluku she had been acting like this; bringing everything that she had seen between the two partners and placing them in a mental chronology; coming to the conclusion of how sad everything was. Angela had said again and again that her best friend looked so frail, and pale despite being out in the sun for hours on end. She pointed out that Brennan wasn't as lively about these ancient remains as she had been for others, and when Hodgins tried to say she was probably exhausted, she shook her head and insisted it had to do with Booth.

She knew he wasn't dead, and that he was safe on base, but that apparently didn't seem to mean anything to Brennan, and she insisted that her friend looked so horrible because she really didn't have a life anymore.

"He was her life Jack," she had whispered one night, a stray tear falling from her eye. "And I knew this was a bad idea from the beginning. What about Booth? This has to be killing him. What if he doesn't pay attention and not being able to see Brennan gets him killed?"

"The man is a sniper," Hodgins had insisted, holding tight to his wife's hands like he did every night. "Even with everything Dr. B. threw at him over the years the man never lost a step. He would never get hurt over there in Afghanistan because his main mission is to live, if it is only to wrap his arms around her one last time."

"Bleeding from the heart, he would get to her somehow," the artist whispered, quickly brushing tears from her eyes before leaning over to wrap her arms around Hodgins. "I'll be in the loft painting if you need me."

But this night, she didn't run into her painting sanctuary, and decided she would rather settle into the warmth provided by the man she loved so much, and for the first night in a month she let him see every single tear that poured from her eyes.

"I just want to see them happy," she insisted, smiling softly as his fingers ran through her hair.

"I know you do Angie, and one day they will be."

"But when will that be?"

"When their epitomal paths collide, and science is completely forgotten in a single act of overwhelming love and passion."

"How poetic," Angela muttered sarcastically, smiling and laughing softly at the look she shared with Hodgins.

"Yeah, way too romantic for me," he whispered, reaching up and brushing his fingers against her cheek. "But it did get you to smile."

She smiled again and reached up to intertwine her fingers with his, bringing his hand into her lap. "Have you seen any of the paintings I've done in the past month?"

"No. I respect your privacy."

"I painted something last night, when I woke up from this dream that I want you to see."

Hodgins didn't know what to expect, but when they climbed the winding stair case into the loft, his breath was taken away from him as his eyes glanced over all of the beautiful and colorful paintings littered around the room.

"Angela, these are beautiful," he whispered, moving to a clutter of canvases and glancing to a picture that showed only a woman's hand indented into her lover's back.

"Those are horrible," Angela quickly retaliated, nodding to a large painting covered in a tarp. "This is my beauty."

"Well if you think these suck, this is going to give the Mona Lisa a run for its money," Hodgins assured, smiling and kissing her cheek softly.

She simply smiled and pulled away the tarp, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes roamed over her piece.

She painted it with a different style; the movements soft and defined like a photographed portrait instead of a painting. The woman and the man had their foreheads pressed together, her hair darkened to an almost black and wavy from earlier rain. She was wearing black and her porcelain skin shined against the contrast, her eyes lowered as her hand was settled against the lapels of her lover's white shirt, soaked to skin. His arms were wrapped tight around her, her back curving at the pressure, but the emotion in her face showed she truthfully didn't care and that his man, her white knight, her angel, was all she was focused on.

"It looks exactly like them," Hodgins whispered, reaching out to brush his fingers against the dried paint.

"I didn't mean it to end up that way, but somehow it did and it turned out beautiful."

"You should show it to them."

"I've done enough pushing," Angela quickly retaliated, smiling and shaking her head. "Maybe I'll just, hide this in my office, and take a look at it when I get down, and maybe one of them will just happen to walk in at that moment."

"Her ring even looks like Brennan's."

"Those two just bled through," she whispered, smiling and setting her tarp on a chair. "But now that I look at it, I don't think any other couple could bring forth the meaning behind the black and white contrast I used."

"You have a very good point Angie. Maybe if they ever get together you could get a similar shot in real life and then show them."

Angela smiled and nodded, reaching over and brushing her fingers against the nape of his neck. "I'll look forward to that."