AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, I post this because I have been feeling bad. My other stories haven't been updated lately or at all and some of you probably hate my guts. I was going through my email account and seen all of the comments, reviewing and users who've hit the favorite button. I am thus posting this. I can't even remember when I wrote this one, but I have been skimming it through and I know it's no excuse for my lack of posing/publishing but here I am. I haven't died yet.. My laptop broke down this summer so I got a MacBook instead, only to have all of the files (actually, only some, including a third chapter for "Survival" that needs re-typing) needing to be typed in another program my MacBook could use. Endlessly sorry though!

This story is not my first - actually, it is probably the first I wrote - cross-over and it will not just be a one-chaptered story. I hope to publish soon, but don't count on anything. Oh, and reviews make my guilt heavier thus posting more often.

Timeline: Set just after NCIS' 7x01: "Truth or Consequences" and before Booth returned to work duty in 5x01: "Harbingers in a Fountain"

Disclaimer: I do not own Bones or NCIS or any of their characters. I just wish I do.

Part 1: Identification

Booth hated these things. He was almost sick of it; everything else would be a relief. However, if he wanted to do field work again, he had to go. Aware of this, he walked to his car. What he wouldn't do to have an excuse not to go - hell, he would even live with Sweets trying to shrink him over and over again, just to back working with Brennan again.

Brennan.

He still wasn't quite sure what were his real feelings towards her, and what was from the coma dream of his. It disturbed him, really, and he had promised himself that when these psychology class were over, he would let everything back to normal, let his Bones decide. After all, even she, with her lack of social skills, could feel if there were any emotions between them.

Luckily, this was his last time to go to the stupid class, which he found no useful, and then he could start working with the squints again. Not active duty, but at least he could be there, even though he had no clue what they were talking about.

He reached the building where the class was held and parked the car. Slightly annoyed, he looked at the entrance, knowing he should just get this over with. He entered the lobby, finding the 'class room' as he preferred to call it to himself.

The usual wrecks of other agency departments were already there, either talking or shielding themselves from the danger of having a conversation. Some more people entered and their psychologist, Dr. Turner, soon joined them. He handled out some papers that they were to fill, which reminded Booth further of the paperwork, he could have been doing instead. Dr. Turner started to shrink some of the really unconfident persons who nearly broke down if he just looked at them.

Five minutes into the lesson, another person entered the door. She was medium height, tanned and had long dark brown hair, moving with grace and impatience to an available seat, two seats to his right. He didn't pay that much attention to her before he was done filling out the paper sheets. Then when he looked at her, his eyes widened in surprise.

He recognized her - how could he forget her? - as she sat there, biting her upper-lip, and looking haunted yet calm.

What was she doing here, in a federal routine? She was a singer, a very beautiful one. He remembered the first night, he saw her like it was yesterday. Hell, even the music that was playing and the song she was singing, rushed back.

He was scanning the crowd of people in the room for his target, but no Middle-Eastern male in his last twenties was to be seen. But the night is young, he reminded himself. Suddenly the light in the restaurant was lowered and only the light on stage remained, as a female voice filled the room in song. The music came on as the curtains were removed, revealing a very attractive woman. Her skin was tanned and her brown hair laid gorgeously down at her shoulder, caressing her soft skin. With seductive movements, she got everybody's attention, enjoying it, enchanting everyone with the spell of her song. Her emerald green dress revealed almost everything, only few in inches of her body remained covered.

All of his worries disappeared when he looked into her brown eyes, sparkling of fire. She was finishing her song, her eyes on him and only him. She smiled intriguing and received an applause, before disappearing behind the curtain. First then he was able to exhale. He was stunned by her, and she was absolutely out of his range.

But what was she doing here? The class was for rehabilitation in federal bureaus, not a civilian course of lack of confidence. If she was a singer, then what the hell was she doing here? By the time his mind was progressing these thoughts, he heard Dr. Turner speak to her.

"Miss David?" Even though it was only a whisperer, Booth was able to hear it.

"I have to go, unfortunately. My team's got a case," she replied, already getting her stuff.

"But, miss…"

"I promise to email you the papers," was the last thing, she said, before storming out of class, leaving a slightly irritated, yet helpless Dr. Turner behind.

Twenty minutes after, Booth left the class, wondering how she would be there. What was it, Dr. Turner had called her? … David, was it. He had never used her first name. Booth realized that he had never known her last name, only her first name.

Sarah, was it. Sarah David. It sounded reasonable. But Turner had pronounced it different that the normal 'Day-vid', like if it was accented. But as far as Booth knew, Turner's native tongue was American and not a foreign language.

His mind distracted, he drove home. When he didn't have shrink classes, doctor's appointments or something like that, he was at home, boring his ass out. He was home ten minutes after, avoiding the traffic. As he unlocked the door, throwing the keys at the coffee table, he ran his hands through his hair. Seeing her after these years was overwhelming him. Sitting on his couch, he poured the whisky into the glass, re-remembering his first meeting with Sarah.

He had been thinking on her since he had seen her performance. Nothing else could led his mind off of her. How her every movement had seemed to enchant him, her eyes had been seducing him. When he was unable to get his mind cleared, he sat down in the bar, ordering a drink. He really shouldn't drink instead of finding his target, but he could always find him tomorrow. As he poured down his drink, a hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked at the person standing behind him and recognized her, even though she now was dressed in a less revealing dress, which still shown not worthy to be carried of her. Her hair was set up, a romantic curl remained, and her smile was as charming as he remembered.

"Hi," he greeted, smiling flirtatiously.

"Bonjour," was her reply. She was French apparently, because her accent was notifying, making her beauty glow.

"You speak English?" he asked.

She nodded. "Qui, un peu," she replied, smiling brightly. He could feel his heart pumped in his chest. Get yourself together, he ordered himself to do so.

She sat down next to him, ordering a Tequila. He smiled at that. Fiery girl, he thought for himself. Not just because she was hot, but she had created this sexual tension between them and hadn't yet turned him down.

"What's your name?" he flirted.

"My name's Sarah," she told him. "Tu?"

He knew enough French to understand the word. He smiled, moving closer to her, hoping she wouldn't find it assaulting. He had been told to check in under an alias, but was devastated to tell her a lie.

"Joseph," he responded, using his middle-name. It wasn't that big a lie, he convinced himself about. "Your song was very beautiful," he complimented.

"Merci," Sarah said, then trying to use his language. "I noticed you, when I sang. I always like fans," she giggled; and what a beautiful giggle, he found himself thinking.

They sat there, both flirting for about an hour, before they silently took the elevator up. A little shy, they reached his floor, looking at each other, not sure what to do. The hallway was empty, so he took the chance and punched her up the wall, kissing her lips like the sun had gone down for the last time ever. Judging by her reaction, she hadn't expected it, but after a moment, she decided to go for it, and willingly kissed him over and over again. After about a minute of this - making out in the hotel hallway - hearing a ding from the elevator, she spoke.

"We should probably get inside," she suggested, giggling as she caressed his neck with her fingers, her legs wrapped around his body.

"Good idea," was his respond as he unlocked the door to his hotel room, dragging the French woman into bed.

He took another sip of the scotch, raising a brow as he remembered that night. It had been one of the best nights of his life, mainly because of Sarah. She had been so full of temptation, making him forget that he only had one life. The morning after had revealed, well, something.

He woke up, remembering last night with a grin. He looked around the bed, only to find their dropped clothes, they had been undressing the night before. Sarah's cocktail dress was in the middle of the floor, the glitter sparkling in the sunlight from the window. With a groan, he looked at the clock. Ten in the morning. Reaching for the spot next to him, expecting the beautiful French singer to be there. The spot was empty and yet still warm. He quickly awoke, getting a pair of boxers from his suitcase, starting to look for Sarah. Moments after, she got out of the shower, clean yet wet. He noticed her as she reached for a towel with closed eyes but instead of the towels, he grabbed her, kissing her on the neck.

"Joseph," she grinned charmingly. She laid her hands on his chest as he captured her lips, gently at first, but then more heated and passionate. He truly felt like the world's luckiest guy to have a girl like Sarah sleeping next to him. She was so beautiful, so full of life, maybe because of the six years between them.

"I have to go, Joseph. Song rehearsal today. I will be inspecting you tonight, will I?" she asked him, almost begging.

"I'll be there, Sarah."

Yes, he had been head-over-heels in love with her from day one. He had been so distracted that he had even lost his target. He had been furious, so frustrated and damned mad at himself for letting him get distracted.

He had been so close. He had seen his target, once he had been entering the breakfast restaurant the day before. Now the target was nowhere to be seen, had disappeared from the surface of Earth. He was angry, both at himself, but that this would meaning he should leave Sarah, too.

"You're tendu, Joseph," Sarah noticed, before translating. "Tensed."

"Well, let's just say that I have had a really bad day," he told her, sitting at the bed, thoughts rushing through his head. All this he had to let go.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked, massaging his shoulders from behind, having her legs wrapped around him.

They had been together for a week now, yet he knew he could trust her. He knew that he couldn't tell her the truth, either. He hated lying to her, but he had to.

"I'll have to leave soon," he whispered in her ears, slowly making such a posture that she was lying under him, her hands on his chest. "And I won't come back."

"Joseph," she cried, leaning her head to his chest, slowly undressing him. "I can't leave, meaning we have to split." He noticed the tears running down her cheeks as he caressed her soft face.

"Let's at least enjoy our last hours," he suggested, before kissing her and soon forgetting the situation, he had fucked up.

He had fell in love. Yes, he knew it was absolutely the worst thing, you could do working undercover. And he had done it. Luckily, Sarah hadn't been all too emotional, when he had left. She had kissed him, her voice had gotten hoarse, but she hadn't cried. She had promised him that she wouldn't dwell over him, and yet he had felt so guilty that he hadn't been able to forget her in two months. He had been busy with joining FBI and fighting with Rebecca over Parker. But she had always been in the back of his head, forgotten. And all of these memories and emotions had rushed back the second, he had seen Sarah again. All of the passion, the tightness, the… easiness. He had never bonded with a person so quick as he had with Sarah. He had told himself at least a dozen times that it had only been a fling, but it truly hadn't.

It was then, he realized that he not only had been in love with Sarah. He was in love with Sarah.

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