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One-Shot… Some of Brennan's thoughts from the pilot.

And may I just say… Oh. My. Goodness. I mean, we all knew it would happen eventually. All that sexual tension building up with every episode? It was like a time-bomb. And we all knew that Brennan was probably going to end up rejecting Booth. But… WOW. It was intense. Boy, I can't even tell you how many times I saw the last five minutes.



Glug Glug, Whoo Hoo!

By I.M.

I didn't understand him. He was so different from the people I worked with. He understood me, how my brained worked, how I saw life. At least, he thought he did. I didn't understand him at all. But he thought he understood me.

Maybe it's because it's his job to know people.

I watched Cleo Eller's parents embrace and cry, and I couldn't help but think that bones were so much easier. You didn't have to deal. You didn't have to feel.

"Those people deserved the truth." The truth shall set you free. I knew he wouldn't agree.

"Their daughter was murdered," he said. "They deserve the kindness of a lie." Kindness of a lie, I repeated in my head.

It was such a foreign concept to me. How could lies be kind? I had always been surrounded by lies and deceit. And now he is telling me it was better to lie? My parents lied, my brother lied, Booth lied. I needed to escape it all, find something that would never lie to me.

His words rang in my head. "Getting information out of live people is a lot different than getting information out of a pile of bones." Maybe it was true. It probably was. What did I know about people? "You have to offer up something of yourself first."

Sacrifice.

I couldn't sacrifice anymore. I didn't have anything left to give up.

But Booth seemed well acquainted with sacrifice, with giving up pieces of yourself. If there was one thing I knew about people, it was this. I could see it in their eyes. They had seen something no one else had—something no one should ever have to. I recognized that look in their eyes. I had one just like it in mine.

Suddenly I had to know. Call it scientist's curiosity. "What exactly did you do in the military?"

"See?" he asked, turning towards me and pointing an accusing finger. "See what you did right there, Bones?" Don't call me Bones. "You asked a personal question without offering anything personal in return."

What could I have that you could possibly want in return?

"And since I'm not a skeleton, you get zilch. Sorry."

Skeletons never lied to me; they never asked anything in return. They just answered, without question and without suspicion.

Booth and I will never become anything more than partners. He asks for a piece of me—demands it—and I have nothing to give him. He thinks he can change me. He thinks he can get inside and make me understand. But, he doesn't get it. There isn't enough left in me to change or befriend. He belongs with people and I belong with the dead. He may try to understand my logic but he doesn't understand.

We speak different languages.

We don't understand.

He wants something from me.

I don't have anything to give him.

He keeps trying to find it.

I push him away.

I try to tell him.

I have nothing to give you, Booth.

He keeps trying anyway.

I say no.

He ignores me.

Doesn't he understand I'll never let him in?

Yes.

Doesn't he understand I'll never say yes?

Yes.

But he keeps trying.

He doesn't give up on me.

That's the difference.

"Wanna get a drink?" Angela asks, interrupting my thoughts. "Non-topical application? Glug-glug, whoo-hoo!" I hear her murmur, "Come on, sweetie."

Escape.

Does he see that I'm trying to escape through death? Through bones?

He does.

Does he see that I'm trying to hide behind the truth?

He does, he does.

So why won't he stop? Why won't he just leave me alone?

Because he's Booth.

I can't change. I won't. Why bother when everything is fine as is?

Everything is fine. Everything is fine? I might have to reconsider.

I might have to reconsider.

"My most meaningful relationships are with dead people," I admit to Angela.

People have already labeled me. I'm the orphaned anthropologist with a mind like a computer and a heart full of empty air. But Booth hasn't given up on me yet.

And I can't figure out why.

I don't want to figure out why. Tonight, all I want to do is forget about reality with my best friend.

Booth can wait until tomorrow.

I had gotten so used to being alone, so used to it that I hated not being alone.

I would never admit it to Booth.

But I don't mind being not alone anymore. I don't mind being so human.

And there he was, bearing his heart. "I know exactly how the Ellers felt about Cleo," I confessed quietly. "My parents disappeared when I was fifteen, and nobody knows what happened to them."

And there I was, bearing mine. Over the years, I had learned that a vulnerable heart will only be trampled on. So I had hardened mine. Because I knew I could never avoid the trampling, just cushion the blow.

I had put my heart in danger. For him. To him. I trusted him. Booth looked at me, long and hard. "Being a sniper, I…" he paused. "…took a lot of lives. What I'd like to do before I'm done is try and catch at least that many murderers."

My heart was safe with him. At least for the time being.

I was a scientist. And science is all about entropy.

About order and disorder.

Order is only temporary. So quick… so fleeting.

Eventually, everything returns to disorder.

Entropy.

But maybe disorder isn't as bad as I thought.

And if I've learned anything today, it's that I don't know as much as I thought I did.

Then again, it wasn't my job to know people. Bones? Yes. People? No.

I was all about the bones.

The truth.

It was all in the bones.


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