"Can you just…?"

"Yeah, of course." Booth leaned back, tucking Bones into his arms. "That's what I'm here for." Her hands rested on his chest, clenched, and they jumped with each sob. The force of her sobs racked his ribcage with her, and he felt again that rage, that inexhaustible hate, that this happened. That this happened to her.

Broadksy would go down for it. And Booth would be the one to do it. But, until then, all Booth could do was hold her. Hold her and let her cry.

"I'm sorry. I know it's hard." His hand ran up and down her back. "I'm sorry."

"What kind of person am I?" The croak against his shirt caused another spasm of tears as Bones pulled into herself.

"Bones, I'm telling you, what he said had nothing to do with –"

"No, it's…I…" A small hiccup shook her frame under his palm. "What he said was just one factor, one part of my evaluation."

Booth shook his head, his chin brushing against her hair. "Bones, trust me, I know exactly who you are." The echo rang in his ears, the echo from another time when he'd held a crying Temperance Brennan years before, and he couldn't help but wonder at them, the two of them and what they had gone through. Endured. How she had grown and changed. What she had become. What they had become to each other. He couldn't say what it was, but he sensed his life was like all these dangling strings, each string a different part of him, and that, ever since that first day he'd seen her on the lecture podium, those strings grew more and more tangled with hers. Even when he fought against it, tried to break the ties, establish a new life with Hannah, the tangles knotted and jerked him back.

Yeah, he knew exactly who she was. Because so much of what she was, what she needed, made up what he was too.

"You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?" His hold on her tightened. Booth hated himself for how his mind sprinted to an image from that alternate life he had concocted while in a coma, sprinted to how his arms had wrapped around her in his dreams. He hated how good it felt now that this wasn't a dream. How good it felt to hold her in his bed.

"I was glad. When I saw the blood, when I saw that it belonged to Vincent, I was glad." She shivered against him. "I was glad it wasn't you."

His breath hitched, and a warmth flooded his core.

Bones lifted her face, her porcelain skin streaked red, soft hair clumped to a wet cheek, and looked at him. "What kind of person does that make me?"

Booth swallowed, the air suddenly heavy and hot against his throat. There was a magnetic current to it that rippled above them, something sharp and tangible. He stared into those eyes, and he swore he could see the ring of green, the ring of green that emerged from the blue when she cracked open the walls to herself.

He was dazzled by it.

"Bones," his voice broke, and he brushed a hand against her face, his fingers entwined in her hair. The simple touch turned his own bones to some gelatinous mush, mush he saw more often than not on her examination table. It would be so easy, so easy to reach up and kiss her, taste her.

A single tear rolled off of her cheek and onto his shirt.

Booth smiled then and brought his finger down to her chin, tilted it so that he could look straight into her eyes.

"You're the best kind of person. You're the best person I've ever met."

Her eyebrows narrowed, creating a folded v above her nose, the same one he'd seen when he informed her she was staying at his place tonight. It was a sign that she was processing, probably identifying the exact logic and arguments behind his conclusions. And Booth was hit again by the same certainty he'd felt in that conference room as she tried to leave, the certainty that he could not let her out of his sight. Not tonight.

Because, even when things were hard between them, even when it was all tangled up and confusing and just a goddamn mess, nothing could happen to her. That was his first thought, his first priority. Always had been.

That was an easy truth, and it made it easier for him to breathe, knowing that and looking at her. Booth's smile pressed against the sides of his face, and Bones smiled back at him and nodded.

"Thank you, Booth."

Booth knew how this ended. She would tuck herself back into his side, safe and warm. They would sleep, comforted by their partnership, comforted by each other, and wake up in the same spots they were in right now, the bed molded under them.

But he didn't want to wake up in the same spot he was in now. Because, no matter what he thought, no matter where they holed up, no matter what he did tomorrow, something could happen to her. Something could happen to him. Hell, forget Broadsky. He could wake up in the morning and someone could T-bone him on the drive to the Hoover. But Broadsky had made all that crystal clear. Because that bullet, the blood Bones saw today, all of that should have been for him.

That fear drove everything else away. It leeched the anger from his muscles and his mind, and all that was left was the urgent need not to wake up in the same spot he was in now. The same spot he'd occupied for almost 7 years.

So, when she did lean down and fold herself back into his side, when her blue eyes with the green left his, Booth took a breath. "Bones, you are the best person. You are the only person."

Bones stirred in his arms, pushed back, and her eyes searched his when he gazed down. "Booth?"

"I know." His voice settled low in his chest, and he swallowed. "I know I said I was angry, and I know you're working at being stronger, and we might not be there yet. I get that. But I just need you to know this, okay? You don't have to say anything. I just need you to know exactly what kind of person you are. The kind of person you are to me."

"Booth, I…"

His voice scratched at his throat. "You are the only person. You are the only person to me. The only person for me."

Bones glanced away, and another rogue tear escaped and slid down her face. Booth's throat was raw and ragged, and he felt old, old and worn.

"Booth, I…"

"No, Bones, you don't have to say anything –"

"No, Booth, I do." She looked back to him again. "I do."

He could hear the rush of his heart beating in his ears.

Bones gripped his shirt, pushed it back with the flat of her palm. Her face crumpled, and more tears gushed forth, but her eyes lifted and held his again. They swirled and dipped, as deep and powerful as a riptide.

"I…I...my hypothesis was wrong. I have evidence of that now, strong evidence. I've reached a conclusion, one I have to share…"

A heaviness settled in his joints, and Booth catapulted back to the night when he gambled it all. I'm a scientist… But still, this was the risk he took. He'd tried this before, rolled his dice, and come away with an empty hand. Tonight wasn't her fault. After all, wasn't the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome? It wasn't her goddamn fault. He could not let her hurt for it, not on top of all the other hurt hanging in the dark. "Bones, it's okay. I promise."

"No, Booth, no!" Bones shook in his arms. "I'm a scientist, and scientists are compelled to share their conclusions with their peers. I have to share my conclusion. I have to share my conclusion with you."

Booth's lungs constricted and felt solid, leaden, and he forced himself to exhale. "What conclusion, Bones?"

"I…" Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. Bones shook her head, trembled, and turned back to him. She looked miserable. "I love you."

Time stopped. Booth stopped breathing, and the blood froze in his veins. The air zipped and cracked, and then Bones was against his chest, sobbing, rocking against him. His arms moved of their own will, wrapped her close to him, and then his nose was in her hair, breathing her warm scent. His chest constricted. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

I love you.

His thoughts fragmented. Bones sobbed into his chest while thousands of moments hurled through his mind.

Love is a chemical process which causes delusion.

You believe that love is transcendent and eternal…I want to believe that too.

I can't change! I don't know how.

She had broken. Bones had broken. He had worn her down for years, and in the tumult of this night, of Vincent's death, she snapped. For some reason, for one brief moment, Booth felt sad. He had altered her, changed her. He had broken her.

"It's okay," he murmured. It was all he could do to hold on. Booth supposed most guys would probably be a bit alarmed if a woman confessed her love and then dissolved into a verified water spigot. But Booth knew. He knew what this had taken from her. What he had taken. The last of it. The last of her imperviousness. He had put her at risk. And that was his fault too.

After a few minutes, the tears subsided, and Bones stilled. The dark stretched out over them like a blanket, wrapped around them, cocooned them from the outside world. Bones pulled away so that she could look at him again, balanced on her forearm. Her voice was small, factual, but a smile ghosted across her face. "Do you love me?"

That was all it took. That was all it took for Booth to break. Air filled his lungs, and the blood rushed to the tips of his toes and his fingers. The sensation of age warped into an electricity he hadn't felt in himself in years. She wasn't the only one who changed. He had changed. He had changed for her. They had changed together, tangled and knotted up in each other.

Booth cupped her face with his palm, ran the other through her hair. A moisture gathered at the corner of his own eyes. He nodded, traced the line of her cheekbone with his thumb. "Yeah. I do." A half grin stretched across his face. "Do you want me to prove it to you?"

The gamble had been issued again, the dice tossed into the air, but this time Booth knew how they were going to fall.

Everything happens eventually.

Everything?

All the good stuff. And when you think it never happens, it happens. Just got to be ready for it.

"Yeah." Bones nodded, and her fingers scraped against his side. "If you won't be too sleepy. For when you go after Broadsky tomorrow."

Before, time had stopped and cracked. Now it was fluid as he rolled on top of her, buried his face in her neck, kissed his way across her collarbone. A gasp slipped from her, and her head tilted up, giving him access to the soft skin under her chin. Her hands traversed the span of his back and under his shirt, and the heat of her touch ignited his blood until it ran as hot as lava. Then her hands left him, bunched at the base of the sweatshirt she'd borrowed, and pulled it over her head. Booth leaned back long enough for her to toss it to the floor.

The sight of her, breasts heaving, spilling over top of her black bra, anchored him for one moment. This was a moment he had savored once while hooked to tubes and lost to the world, but, after that one night outside the Hoover, he thought it was a moment he would only get to savor in his imagination. And it wasn't the state of near nudity that knocked the air from his chest. It was her eyes. Always her eyes. It was the look in them, the look of confidence, of trust. Of love.

He took her hand, wove his fingers with hers. Booth leaned forward and, for the first time since he made that ill-timed gamble, kissed her lips. The taste of salt mingled with something sweet, something like a slice of orange, something uniquely her. Her lips parted, and he leaned forward on his elbow to gain greater access as he explored her mouth. Her tongue danced with his, and she clutched his hand tighter in her own and pulled him closer.

This. This is all he ever wanted. To kiss her and taste her. They hadn't decided anything, not really, but they had broken that barrier. And he would give her everything, everything that was in his power to give.

She bit at his bottom lip as he pulled back to grab at his own shirt. "Bones," was all that escaped him. Her lidded eyes looked up at the murmur of her name. She leaned forward with him, placed her hands over his, and lifted his shirt over his head. While she was sitting up, she folded her arms behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra. It fell off, and Booth swallowed.

Imagination was nothing compared to the facts.

Bones ran the pads of her fingers over Booth's chest, under his arms, and to the trenches of his back. She pulled him down over her again, and he kissed her, kissed her mouth, her nose, her shoulder. His hand danced over her stomach and up to the peak of her breast. Her breath spiked as he squeezed and fondled, and her fingers pulled at his hair when his thumb tweaked her nipple. He leaned down and took it into his mouth.

"Booth." The anguished sound of his name breaking across her lips just made him suck against her harder. He then moved attention to her neglected breast, and her knee rose to his side as he continued his ministrations.

"Booth." This time, her voice was insistent, demanding, as she pulled him back up to her and wrapped one arm around him, hooking him to her. Her other hand slipped under his boxers and grasped his shaft.

For such a strong, skilled woman, Booth had always marveled at the slender, delicate fingers that made up Bones' small hands. And to now have those fingers wrap around him, squeeze him, move up and down his length was almost too much for him to take.

"Oh god. Bones."

Her touch was new, but her patterns, her movement, they reminded him of rediscovering a favorite song that you had forgotten you knew, the words flitting at the back of your brain. He had known her for so long, uncovered parts of her that he hadn't known to ever look for, that their dance wasn't the rush of new discovery but the reconnection of parts forged to work together.

A desperation tore through him, a desperation for more. Booth clenched the panties bunched at her hip and slipped out of her reach so that he could slide them down her long legs. He grazed the inside of her thighs and pressed one finger, then two, inside her wet core. Her hips rocked, and he took them out before inserting them again. She slammed her palm into his headboard with a gasp. He leaned down and flicked his tongue across her clit and sucked as he fingered her. After only a few minutes, he felt her walls tremor around him as she arched off the bed. "Booth!"

The sight of Bones unraveled nearly undid him. After she fell from her peak, he slipped out of his boxers and covered her body with his once more. He groaned at the feeling of his erection pressing against her warmth, but he didn't have long to be lost to that feeling. Bones flipped them both over so that she balanced over him, using her new position to put her mouth to his pulse point. Her hair fell over her face, and Booth brushed it back, wrapped his fingers in it. It was so soft. Everything about her was soft, warm, nothing like the cold person others saw her to be.

Bones straddled him. Booth's hands roamed from her shoulders to her back and cupped her ass, pulling her closer. Both of them were caught in the rush of their own gasping breaths, the rush of a river about to push them over the edge. Their tracings and roamings grew faster, hungrier. Bones leaned back against him and licked the base of his breast bone, and her silky wetness pressed against him. His hands again fell over her ass and rolled her back, and it was her turn to groan as she bit his shoulder.

Bones traveled down his torso, her tongue dancing over his chest, down his stomach, down to the base of his cock. Her tongue flicked over his tip, and his erection jerked. Booth moaned, his hand fisting the sheets. She licked him again before opening her mouth and taking all of him in. "Oh, god. Oh, god, Bones." A hot coil of ache and want threatened to overwhelm him as she slid up and down him again.

His need was too great. There would be another time. At least, that's what he told himself. There would be a time to sit and revel in every touch, every dip of her skin, every pant and murmur she released. But right now he needed to lose himself in her, be lost to her, be one with her. He wanted to occupy the same space.

Break the laws of physics.

That's what she'd once said.

He pulled her back to him. Booth rolled over again, and Bones draped her legs across his back, pressing him closer. He positioned himself at her entrance. Her fingers knotted at the back of his neck. He kissed her once and leaned back to stare into her eyes. As he entered her, he held her gaze, studied the mix of the blue and green, and they stared at each other as he buried himself to the hilt inside her.

For a moment, he didn't move and just marveled in the sensation of her, the sensation of being inside her. Booth looked at her face, and she panted, her teeth biting the top of her lip. He leaned down and kissed her, a hand returning to thread her hair as she expanded to accommodate him. His breathing became labored, and the aching throb became too much. He thrust inside her again, and she gasped, throwing her head back, and his face fell into the space where her neck met her shoulder.

"Booth." Bones scraped at this skin of his back with her fingernails as he pushed into her, over and over. "Oh, oh." He leaned down, took her nipple in his mouth again. "Booth."

"Bones." It was all he could manage as he kissed her lips roughly. He sat and lifted her so that she sat atop him. The porcelain of her cheeks and chest were flushed, and a smile flitted across her face. Her shoulders twisted as she pivoted, and Booth groaned, pressing the small of her back to him. She rotated the other way, and something in the way she twisted against him caused bright spots to dance in his eyes. "Bones."

She did it again. He panted and thrust up, an automatic response. Bones once claimed she was great in bed. Booth had had no idea.

They fell forward again, and this time Booth let go. He needed her now. They gasped in tandem, thrust in tandem, spoke each other's names in tandem. And, when it threatened to consume them, when Booth was aware of nothing but their movement and the feeling of them together, they lost themselves in tandem. With one final thrust, Bones arched and shuddered around him as he spilled himself inside her. As she trembled from the force of her climax, he found her lips and sank against her.

They stayed there for a moment, locked in each other's arms, as their hearts thudded and slowed. Booth dipped his forehead to hers and looked into her eyes. All of a sudden, he recalled the swirl of her irises the day she confessed she didn't think was meant to be part of a family and their sudden shine when he told her that there was more than one kind. The shine that filled him with a hope he'd never known.

That was the same shine in her eyes now.

He smiled and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. She smiled back at him, the small, shy smile he had worked so hard to win from her in the past. Only then did he roll over onto his back on the other side of the bed, and she followed his movement, nestling against him. Booth held her to him, synched the rise of his chest to hers.

"Booth?"

He nosed her hair and nodded. "Yeah?"

"Don't die." Bones glanced up at him. "Please don't die tomorrow."

Something caught in his throat. No, no, he could not die tomorrow. Not now. Not after tonight.

"I won't." He whispered this promise to her, kissed the top of her head.

Together, the dark washed over them. Booth fought against it, struggled to hold onto this moment. He had woken up, hours earlier, hard and angry and trying to figure it out. A kid (and he was really just a kid) bled out from a gunshot wound to the chest, a gunshot meant for him. And Bones…now, everything had changed.

Everything changes.

Not everything, Bones. Not everything.

No, he hadn't changed. But, as the edges of reality blurred into the night, he smiled and pulled Bones closer as they fell asleep tangled in each other. He hadn't changed. But he did fall asleep in a different spot on the bed.