Hey, this is my attempt at an angsty fic. Contains smut, so those who aren't into that should not read this fic! For this chapter, underlined words are the present, italics are the past. Please R&R!

You stared at yourself in the full length mirror in the spare room of Hodgins' mansion. You were alone, staring blankly at the mirror, your mind riddled with thoughts you shouldn't have and memories you regretted.

You went to his apartment. You knew it was a bad idea, but he was the one person you needed to talk to, the one person who you could rely on.

He answered the door, smiling as he saw you, until his mind processed your grim expression.

"Bones? Are you okay?"

You didn't even know yourself, so what could you say? "May I come in?" you asked, that being the only safe thing to say at the time.

He opened the door widely and you strolled in, turning to face him, but finding yourself unable to look him in the eyes.

Your eyes were glassy with tears which were already starting to stain through your veil. You never thought that this day would come, and you felt... something ever since he got down on one knee. Was it love? Because if so, love would be severely overrated. It felt more like...fear.

He asked you again what was wrong; and you felt yourself shaking as you looked up at him. You could feel your shoulders tense once you saw the genuine concern in his eyes. You opened your mouth, but closed it again, fearing whatever you said next would hurt him.

But he kept pushing. He asked if it had to do with work, family, or friends. Was it because of your father? Did something happen when you went to Uganda? His next question was the one that hit home.

"Did something happen between you and Sully?" Something in your eyes must have given you away, because he kept the topic on Sully. "Look, I know you might be upset that he left, but he came back. Sully's a great guy and I know that you-"

"He proposed," you interrupted. You saw his face fall, his jaw dropping before he said "Oh" quietly.

"That, that's great, Bones."

Was it great? Did you really want to do this? "Yeah," you replied, unable to think of anything else.



"So, you said yes?" he asked. You could see the hurt in his eyes. Was it hurt? Maybe it was just what you wanted to see. Maybe you wanted to see the same sorrow and fear that you felt.

"Yeah," you repeated again. It seemed as though you had lost all other vocabulary at the time.

You glanced down at your dress, a white, frilly, puffy concoction adopted by the sanctity of marriage; something that you would usually never be seen dead in. Angela assured you earlier that you looked great. Ironic, since you didn't feel all too great.

You were both sitting on the couch in silence, drinking beer as a 'celebration.' You kept on stealing glances of your partner, who at the moment, you were concerned about. Booth hated silence, yet he was quite content to sit down and take occasional swigs of his beer, acting completely oblivious to his partner, as if she wasn't here. You asked him if he was okay, and he looked at you, faking a smile and asking you why he wouldn't be okay. You didn't answer; you just looked away, hating the awkward silence. Your gaze flickered over towards him again. His smile was gone, and he had a look in his eye. You had only ever seen that look once before, and that is when he told you that you should sail away with Sully. Hating the silence, you asked him again if he was okay and told him not to deny it because she knew something was wrong.

You looked back up at your face. Your hair was pulled back neatly and your eyes were starting to turn red. If only you could stop remembering that night.

He scrubbed his face with his hands and told you to drop it. He stood up and took your empty beer bottle out of you hand, then started walking to the kitchen.

You walked into the kitchen behind him, and you told him that you weren't going to drop it. You watched his head drop down and his hands grasp the sides of the sink tightly, before he swung around to face you. You started to back up as he approached you, growing uncomfortable by his intense stare. You gasped when you felt the cold counter on your back, and you felt trapped as he got closer and closer. Your noses were almost touching by the time he stopped.

"I can't do it, Bones," he said quietly, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and hurt. He must have read the confused expression on your face, because he clarified his statement.

"What do you want me to tell you, that I'm happy for you? That he deserves you? That he would be able to make you happy? Come on, Bones. You and I both know that if I said that, I'd be lying."

Your confusion was quickly replaced by anger. "Okay, so what's your alternative, Booth? Because I'd really love to hear it," you said loudly. When he didn't respond, you continued. "What the hell makes you think you know me well enough to know what's best for me?"



"I know you more than he does!" he shouted. "I know that when you're sick, you like to wear you sweatshirt because it makes you more comfortable. I know that when you're sad, you like to listen to blues music. I know that you only bought a new TV so as you could watch the new remake of 'The Dukes of Hazard.' I know that when you furrow your brow when looking at remains, it's a signal for everyone to shut up. I know that you hate Stephen King novels, and that you consider red roses to be a cliché that has absolutely lost all sentimental value. But most of all, I know when you are settling for second-best. Don't get me wrong, Sully's great, but he's not the guy for you and we both know it," he said harshly.

The tears finally spilled down your eyes at this memory. How did he know all this? How did he know you so well?

"Then who, Booth? You?" you scowled. "You drew that line a long time ago. You made it pretty clear that you didn't want me; that you didn't care for me..."

Your speech was cut short by him pounding his hands loudly on the counter either side of you, effectively trapping you.

"Don't you dare!" he growled. "You can deny what we have all you want, but don't you dare say that I don't care about you." You looked in his eyes. Behind all of the anger, you could see that he was sincerely hurt by your accusation. Something came over you, seeing him like this. He did care about you; you knew that, but this...whatever you were feeling right now was dangerous, but unstoppable.

You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his face that extra few inches into an intense, passionate kiss. After a second, you felt his arms wrap around your waist and pull your body to him. Your tongue was instantly in his mouth, sliding against his. You felt him grab your hips and pick you up, so you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and started undoing his tie, all the while unwilling to break the kiss. You felt him move, walk; and you knew exactly what was going to happen. You knocked over a few things on your way, but your back eventually came into contact with the softness of the bed; or the couch, you couldn't tell at the time. All you were concentrating on was his hands sliding your top up further. You groaned when he reached your breasts, arching your back as he ran his thumbs over your nipples. Sudden realisation didn't kick in until both of you had your clothes off, and he was kissing your neck; silently requesting what you both needed so badly.

When he entered you, he groaned and you let out a noise between a moan of pleasure and a cry of sorrow. You felt the tears spilling from your eyes as he desperately latched his lips onto yours. You hated him so much at this moment, until you felt him shaking, and realised that you were now not the only one sobbing in anguish.

He started to move, pumping himself slowly in and out, and you raised your hips to meet him. You were frustrated at his pace. You didn't want him to go slow. Right now, you felt that sentiment would make this more complicated, and the only justification of your actions would be if there were no 

emotions involved. You quickened your pace, whimpering at the feel of him inside you, and he got the message, going faster.

You buried your face in his neck, kissing furiously. You couldn't let him see your face. He was good at reading you; he would know that you didn't think of this as a quick fuck, but you couldn't stop the tears and sobs. For some reason, you felt reassured that he was crying too, but at the same time you hated him for showing his emotions.

When you threw your head back in pleasure, he kissed your neck hard. You felt as if he had the same problem as you; that he was trying to hide his emotions. You squeezed your eyes shut, the tears still escaping and drenching your face.

Your erratic moans mixed with your sobs, and you were too busy thinking about your lack of morals that it came as a surprise when wave after wave of spasms hit you body hard. In the midst of your orgasm, you felt him joining you, spilling inside you. His cries were as loud as yours, and he rested his forehead on yours, closing his eyes and breathing as hard as you.

When you finally regained your ability to breathe, you panicked. You felt cheap, dirty, and unfaithful. You pressed your palms to his shoulders, pushing him slightly as an indicator for him to roll off of you.

"No, Temperance, please," he pleaded, his voice still heavy with sobs. He anxiously latched his lips onto yours. He must have known that if he let you leave, you would go back to Sully. Even the thought of that made you guilty, but you committed to him, and you broke it. The only rational thing to do would pretend that you never wound up in Seeley Booth's bed.

"Seeley," you sobbed softly, pushing him away from you. He rolled off you reluctantly and you immediately stood up and gathered all of your clothes, wriggling into them quickly. He dressed too, and as you hurried out of the bedroom door, you felt his hand on your arm.

You turned around to tell him to let go, but he spoke first.

"I love you," he said in a low voice, his eyes still shining with tears. Fresh tears slid down your cheeks, and you shrugged out of his grip and hurried out the door...

"Bren?" Angela opened the door and you quickly wiped the tears from your eyes. She looked at you and said "They're ready for you."

"Okay, I'll be right out," you said.

"Sweetie?"

"Yeah?"

"Sully's a really nice guy," she said definitively.

"I know," you replied.

"Sometimes it's harder to hurt the feelings of a good guy because-"



"Angela!" you interrupted bluntly. You didn't need yet another lecture on why you shouldn't marry Sully, not now.

She left the room and you turned to face the mirror once again, taking a deep breath before going out to make the biggest commitment of your life.