I hate lying.

More so, I hate lying to the people that, over the past few years, have become my closest friends. There have been so many times that I have wanted to tell Booth or Angela. But, I know if they knew the truth they could very well become targets. My secret has been safe up until now. Although there was a time last year when I thought everything we had worked for could come crashing down around us. Agent Samantha Pickering, of the State Department, had been nosing around and asking questions about a situation in which I was involved while I was doing some work in Cuba a few years back. Upon the mention of "Juan Guzman" I knew that there could be potential trouble on the horizon. I immediately picked up the phone and dialed a number that I was to use only in the case of an extreme emergency, which this definitely had the potential to become. I'm quite sure that she didn't expect to hear the voice on the other end of the line instructing her to destroy all of her findings and to never step foot near the Jeffersonian again. That situation was a little too close for comfort for all of us involved.

It turns out that it did, in fact, spark a chain of events which now may bring my worse fears to fruition. I have to tell Booth about everything. The truth about myself, my family and the secret, hoping that he'll be able to understand the gravity of the situation and be able stand alongside me and my deception – which, all too soon, may become his as well.

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I sit at my desk, staring blankly at the computer screen, with my fingers hovering slightly over the keyboard, and try to churn out the next chapter of my new book. Unfortunately, I haven't gotten very far because my mind keeps racing, trying to figure out how I'm going to tell Booth.

"Hey, Bones, what's up? I got your message." He strolls in the office, looking rather chipper.

"We need to talk," I state abruptly.

"Okay," he replies as he settles himself on the couch, adjusting his pant leg. "Shoot."

"No, not here," I say, as I get out of my chair, grab my jacket and head towards the door.

"Okay, um, Bones? Is everything alright?" he says with a hint of concern in his voice as he stops me and reaches for my arm.

"Just follow me, Booth."

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Forty minutes later, we're sitting at a restaurant on the outskirts of town. I'm deeply focused on the menu as I feel Booth starting at me intently.

"So, are you planning on telling me why you dragged me thirty minutes outside of DC, when there are plenty of perfectly good places to eat all within five minutes of FBI Headquarters?" He leans forward, and lightly pulls back on the top of my menu, hoping to attain my attention. A few seconds pass before I finally look up at him and answer.

"We need to talk"

"Yeah, I think I got that already."

"Somewhere away from work," I elaborate staunchly.

"Well, any farther away, Bones, and we'd be in New Jersey."

"Booth, I-"

"Look, Bones, if this is about the other day…" he trails off. "I'm sorry. I know there was a chance that I was crossing a line but at that moment-"

"Booth! Would you stop interrupting me already. I really need to just get this out."

"So this isn't about-"

"No."

"Oh."

We sit in uncomfortable silence for another few seconds. I don't think there's ever been a time when being around Booth has left me feeling this vexatious. I mean, how do you tell the one person you care most about in the world that you've lied to them since the inception of your partnership?

Continuing to look down at my hands placed on the table, I begin, "I'm not who you think I am." I pause a second and look up to see a look of confusion in his eyes. He slowly reaches across the table, and places his hand on mine, urging me to continue. I finally let out the breath that I've been holding and proceed to tell him the last thing he probably ever expected to hear come out of my mouth.

"My name is Agent Temperance Brennan. I'm an undercover operative for the CIA."

There is a short pause. Then the shock registers across his face and he quickly pulls his hand off of mine and brings it to his face. He appears as if in deep thought, trying to absorb the shock of the secret I've unveiled to him. After a short respite, he slowly pushes his chair back and stands up. He tosses some money on the table and walks out - leaving me sitting there wondering if I in the end, this will all be worth it.
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This was an idea that I was toying with for the January CBPC and was only suppose to be a one shot, but my muse took over and this story now has a life of it's own. I'm submitting the prologue as my entry to the challenge, but this will be a Work in Progress.

Enjoy!