A/N: Okay, so I can't get over CitC, and the only solution that I can see is writing as many tags as necessary. So...here's another one.

I have 206 bones, but I don't own Bones

When all along I've been needing was to find one good reason
To give myself, really give myself away

Every smile that lights my face
Every teardrop, every trace
Every secret hidden place belongs to you
Anything that's good in me, all I ever want to be
Every drop of every dream belongs to you

(Belongs to You, Emerson Drive)

It was about an hour into the surgery when I completly stopped paying attention. I mean, of course I was worried. Obviously I was worried, or else I wouldn't have been there. I was just so worried that I could concentrate on both my thoughts and what was going on infront of me.

It was all too much. The beeping of the heart monitor was too loud. Booth's body was too still. There were too many doctors - if it was such 'a simple surgery' why the hell were there so many people in the OR? The pain in my heart was all too much.

I stood there trying to fathom as to why this man infront of me had no idea as to how I felt about him. Why hadn't I told him before? When he'd stopped us outside the OR, I kenw he wanted to say more than he had. He probably knew I wanted to say more. But I was so damned scared. And then I had a good enough reason to tell him, to tell him that I love him.

That still sounds absolutely ludacris in my mind. And I was trying to figure out when it all had happened during the damned operation. I couldn't pinpoint a single moment in our partnership when it had happened. I think it was gradual. It's not like in the movies, when the person says they woke up one morning and they somehow felt something more than what was there the day before.

I look up at the clock in the wall to see how much longer before I can be certain that he'll be okay. He'll be okay.

It was a mantra playing over and over in my mind, never taking a break. Because I need for him to be okay. If he's not, how could I possibly live another day? When I let myself think such things, my heart breaks into piece so small they may never be able to heal. Without Booth, I may never heal.

It took this amazing, kind, loyal, beautiful man to teach me that all I ever needed, all I ever wanted, was right there in front of me. He gave me the reasoning, and the oppertunity to love. I owe him everything.

I shifted on my feet when I became aware that the surgeon was speaking to me. He was telling me that they were almost finished - that the worst was over - and that I should make my way to recovery.

No matter how irrational it is, I doubt that I could ever be whole without Booth. Scientifically, it's impossible, but I'm starting to think that love has nothing to do with science. Abosolutely nothing about it is reasonable, or fair, or chemical. All it comes down to is the one thing I asked Booth not too long ago: Is it worth it? He says it is. I sure as Hell hope he's right.

Because if he's correct, and it is all worth it, I am definetely willing to give him everything. Every single secret that I carry with me, every tear I ever shed, every, and every moment of laughter. I want to belong to someone, and for once in my life I am certain of how I feel. I want to belong to him. I want to be his, and him to be mine.

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