A/N: I don't quite know where this fic came from, but after discovering Bones around six months ago, I'm completely addicted and in love with it and Booth/Brennan. I'm amazed how much chemistry and sparks they manage to have, it's like an explosion. So I guess that from my love for it was created this. Not the first fic I've written for Bones, but certainly the one I'm most aprehensive about as I am British (yes, for those who don't know, Doctor Who is a real British show, very popular) so please! forgive me for my slip ups. Bit of a strange fic exploring the human side of Booth and his past, while addressing some of his insecurities too. Well, I hope you sit back, read and enjoy. First of three parts, con-crit is welcome :D Dedicated to Rachel, my friend and beta and a pretty brilliant writer herself.

Waiting for the Light

Part One

"Bones, can you please just have an open mind to the whole concept?" Booth's voice was light, showing only the slightest hint of irritation. Mostly he was full of that kind of giddy joy that always filled him when teasing his partner. This morning was no exception and although Booth had no idea how this subject had arisen, he couldn't help but wind her up until she thoroughly worked the subject until she was proved correct.

Brennan always gestured emphatically with her hands when her horse was up high and galloping at full pelt, "The concept of the relationship dynamic in that societal context would never work out Booth, the entire basis for their so-called relationship is predicated on one theory."

His eyes were light and the slight lines betrayed his age, "It's just some television show, besides I never thought you'd enjoy a science fiction series."

Pink almost tinged her cheeks and he knew he'd got her, "Just because I believe in logical science doesn't mean that a fictional show about an extraterrestrial travelling through time and space with a twenty year old blonde girl from London isn't entertaining to me. It actually contains elements that the writers base upon elements in our modern society."

"But it's Doctor Who, Bones! Only nerdy boys with pimples and emission problems watch that show on TV."

He'd certainly hit a nerve, "Booth, the ratings and demographics that the show is aimed at tell that the show is extremely popular in Britain, even if the science behind it is complete nonsense, the average viewer connects to the romantic dynamic. I disagree with the way it's been written."

"So this guy, the nine hundred year old alien falls for this young blonde girl. I wonder what he saw in her, huh?" he laughed, "Come on, Bones, it's the only part of that show that isn't for guys."

Brennan shook her head, "I vehemently disagree! They call that element the 'will they, won't they' factor in television shows. While it attracts enormous amounts of viewer attraction, it still is just used as a device to lure people into becoming fanatics. The romance is basically all based in our heads."

"Right..." Booth would never admit he'd actually seen the show. He'd never live it down at the Hoover. "So let me get this straight. There's a guy, an older, wiser extremely handsome guy who's seen things and lived with too much violence."

Brennan nodded, "In layman's terms, I suppose you could describe him like that. They call him the 'hero' in societal terms. There are roles that characters play in television shows. Usually, the 'hero' and the 'princess' are always romantically involved."

"And this girl, Rose, is the Princess?"

Brennan smiled, "I like her actually, I can relate to her. She has subverted the stereotypical female 'princess' role in the shows and fights the 'villain', she thinks of ways to aid the 'hero' instead of just being his reward as it were. It's very neo-feminist."

Booth laughed. She could be so clinical and unemotional about these things, "But Bones, they're in love." She went to speak and Booth knew she was going to say love didn't exist apart from hormones and chemicals. "He rescued her from her drudge, showed her life outside her job. It's all excitement and catching the bad guys and there's tension between them because he made her life so much better." He doesn't even care that he's not talking about the damn show. "The whole 'will they, won't they' device is just to draw in viewers, but that doesn't mean it's not real. Besides, these couples always get together in the end."

She thought about his theories for a few seconds and relented, "Yes, that is a common trend. Doesn't mean it's not irritating when they do the 'almost' kiss."

He couldn't help but drop his eyes to her lips for the barest of seconds. The diner was quiet at this time of night, but they still were in earshot of one guy. "You get irritated by 'almost' kisses?"

She sipped her coffee, "Yes, while I find the frustration, the romantic element appeals to me as a woman. I wish they'd just have sex and get it over with; it's fairly disappointing to see them get that close and then fall apart again."

He couldn't speak for a few seconds, just staring at her with mirth in his eyes and a laugh on his lips, "Oh my god, Bones, you're one of them!"

She looked genuinely confused. "One of whom?"

"A fangirl! You can't get enough of it! Oh you just wait until I tell Angela you're doe-eyed over a television show. She won't believe me!"

She was calm but he knew what she was thinking, "Please don't tell Angela. She'd tell Sweets and then I'll be subjected to rigorous psycho-somatic testing on my notion of relationships. I don't understand, anyway, why would I suddenly have the eyes of a northern red deer instead of human ones?"

"Bones, I wouldn't trade your eyes for any others."

*

They left just before midnight, both feeling incredibly anxious about being near each other. Was that just a date? Did all Bureau partners have impromptu coffee meetings at eleven at night? She was confused as to why they seemed to get along so very well, especially as Booth was an emotional person and she was hyper-logical, almost to a fault, she had conceded. All of her life had been predicated on the notion that she could not make emotional connections and metaphorically lean on another person because in the end, all one human had was themselves. Since coming to work with Booth, she'd discovered he wasn't like the stereotypical F.B.I Agent, the alpha male agency that was full of people just looking to step on anyone's hands to get another rung up the career ladder. All she'd relied on since she was fifteen was herself. Until she worked with him, she'd thought him just another Bureau jock, and she was the hand on the ladder. Or maybe she was the ladder. Temperance had never been good at maintaining and understanding metaphors.

But since she'd actually worked with him and struck up their deal, she came to realise that Booth had depth and sensitivity to him, the dedication to catching the killer rather than furthering his career appealed to her human morality complex and she'd started seeing him as someone to trust. Even though it went against all her preconceived ideas of a lone life, Temperance had come to know that Booth would always support her. She'd often entertained the fantasy of him. Sexually. His power and strength ignited the primal cortex of her hypothalamus leftover from evolution that said he'd be a good breeder. His attractiveness and fit physical stature also didn't escape her notice and he'd since been occupying her dreams more and more. She'd told herself it was just an expected physical backlash from working so closely together on very tough, emotional cases. It was to be expected that her body was betraying her mind every time he smiled at her.

The car ride back to her apartment was a comfortable silent, being so very tired and dreading interrogating their suspect tomorrow morning was proving to be a difficult subject for Booth and as a result, it rubbed off on Brennan. A violent, drunken father who had killed his own daughter and beat his wife to keep her quiet. Something that struck too close to the bone, for both of the partners. Forgetting about the case, even for a couple of hours over coffee and pie for him, had been a relief. She knew that seeing those infant bones on her lab table were too hard for him to look at without thinking of Parker. She understood. Temperance had seen too many children on her table over the years.

*

At her complex, car engine switched off, he sighed internally; he'd wished the end had never come but then nothing good lasts. "Well, goodnight Bones, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, 8am?"

She nods and smiles politely; he can see a kind of confusion in her eyes that he knew meant she was thinking about something hard. Brennan leant over the gear shift and lightly kissed Booth's cheek, lingering ever-so-slightly. "Thanks, for taking me out."

Their eyes met just once, "My pleasure." He managed to mutter, still shocked that she'd actually kissed him. Sort of. It counted, didn't it? Chalk another one up for the Booth side.

"Night." She said, climbing out of the car and opening up the entrance hall door to her complex.

Booth just sat there, almost dumbstruck at her actions. "Right then, get it together Seeley." He murmured to himself. Tonight, all he'd be able to think about was her. How had she wriggled her way into his brain and made camp, twenty four hours a day, he had no idea. For all her faults, and sometimes she irritated and angered him, she still could make him stare at her and be in shock as to how she couldn't see what was happening between them. Of course, he'd never do anything about it but fantasizing wasn't a bad thing. Mainly he thought about those lips that had just pressed a whisper of a kiss against his cheek. He knew what she kissed like, but Booth was certain she had a lot of passion in her heart, down inside and behind those walls. She'd been through too much in her life that he would have died to protect her from, but then what would she have? She wasn't affected after his fake death but it he knew there was more to it than met the eye.

At his own place, Booth poured himself a scotch and downed it quickly. She'd occupy his mind tonight, again. Damned woman. Didn't she know what she did to him and his body? Ever since she challenged him at that shooting range, he saw that there was something amazing between them. God, she was so beautiful when she was angry. She called him on his crap, knew that he wasn't some idiotic, chauvinistic agent who used her. No, she was smarter than that. Temperance knew that she was a valuable resource to them and had the power herself. He smiled as he poured another scotch and sipped at it. His beautiful partner, he was too protective sometimes and yes, he got very envious of her dates. But he would stand in front of her as much as she would let. He'd take barrages of bullets in order to see her live that life he wanted her to. When any man looked at her the wrong way, when anyone threatened her safety, he could see nothing but white hot rage and a blaring lust for revenge. To rip their throats out and kick them until they learnt never to set an eye upon her body. "Temperance Brennan. Renowned pain my ass. Even bigger pain in my heart."

He could protect her, yes? What if he couldn't protect her from an even bigger threat? What if Booth couldn't protect her from himself?

*

Smiles rarely used to grace her lips but she'd been smiling rather a lot lately. She'd been used to sadness and being alone but one of those grins from Booth stirred her biology and she was a teenage girl, fawning over that latest crush. Brennan stretched her back and locked her front door. Pulling off her clothes and putting her soft camisole and shorts, she wondered what that suspect would say in his defence. Would he be apologetic that he murdered his own little girl? There was no reasonable doubt in her mind, forensically, that he had murdered the poor child and yet Booth still wanted to question him. A part of her brain reminded her what a successful sniper Booth had once been and entertained the notion that Booth would kill the monster, given half a chance. She certainly wouldn't object much. Temperance brushed her teeth and cleaned her face of any residual make up before her eyes found the case notes she'd brought home. There was still once slight piece of evidence that was bothering her. Logically, she knew that Johansson was a murderer, a drunk and a very violent man but that poly ethylene compound residue on her bones was haunting her. Why was she doused in a flammable chemical but not set alight? There was no evidence of scorching or burning in the soil or her remains.

Brennan sat up in bed, studying the x-rays and photographs closely. Was there something she was missing? Something like Booth said... what was it? The obscurest things are often hidden in plain sight. Was there something that she'd expected to find and when they did find it, thought nothing of it? It was possible that the flammable liquid had been ingested by the victim but that amount, it would have killed her. If she had small amounts, over a very frequent time, perhaps injected? That would certainly have immobilised her, made her extremely weak and defenceless. Bastard. Did he do this to her? Give her injections of pure distilled alcohol to shut her up, make her a doll to his torture. The girl, Jessie, the innocent eyes of youth. Temperance rubbed her eyes, nearly 1am and Booth wouldn't be awake. This would have to wait. New forensics meant that they had to search his house for proof. Another day he wasn't rotting in jail or an executioner's chair.

Booth wasn't going to take this well. Brennan refilled the evidence and placed it on her bedside cabinet, slipping under her sheets and worrying at her lip. He wasn't going to like this at all...

A/N 2: Well... hope it worked for you! :D