So, sorry about the bold print in the first chapter. I am new to this site and had a small problem uploading the story. Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback so far! Here's more….

Booth lay in his bed, a U2 ballad playing from his iPod.

And all, I want, is you….

He wasn't going to get any sleep over this one, he could tell. His talk with Angela had made things feel better up until she'd thrown in that last part before walking out of the room and leaving him more confused than before she'd come in.

She'd said that he was the man that Bones loved. Had Bones told her that or was this another instance of Angela seeing things in people that they couldn't even admit to themselves? Booth pressed the heels of his hands to his exhausted eyes. Maybe Angela was just seeing what she wanted to see and there wasn't any bearing behind it.

But she'd read him like a children's book.

The sun began to peak over the horizon and Booth sat up in bed, running a weary hand over his face.

All the promises we break, from the cradle to the grave…

Booth had promised Angela that he wouldn't tell Bones about their discussion. He never would have anyway, he didn't need to be told how to handle Bones when it came to her personal life and feelings. Traversing that territory with Bones was like walking down a very winding path filled with roadblocks and hazards and eventually lead to a dead end.

What he needed was a way to get her to talk to him about her feelings without her knowing that he was getting her to talk about her feelings. He needed her to tell him how what was in her heart, but it had to happen organically. She didn't respond well when you pressed the issue. He'd have to figure out a way to make her feel like opening up to him about their relationship was the logical thing to do.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and let his head hang, his forearms resting on his knees. Before he could think about how to get Bones to come to terms with her feelings about him, he was going to have to come to terms with his feelings about her.

And all, I want, is you….

They'd been working on cases for years now, they were partners who worked well as a team. She was the stoic, methodical one who looked at a scenario and refused to make conclusions based on anything but the cold, hard facts. He saw the people involved, saw the human element. Together, they were unstoppable at fighting the injustices that can strike innocent people and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize something that important.

But he'd wanted her to grieve for him.

He'd been over and over it in his head while he'd lain in bed, wishing for sleep but finding it utterly elusive. He'd tried telling himself that he'd want any of his friends or co-workers to miss him if he was gone. He'd tried to convince himself that it was a natural thing for anyone to feel like they'd mattered in this world before they left it and he was right. That was a normal thing to want. Except, he wasn't being completely honest. He hadn't wanted for her just to miss him, or feel like he'd mattered. He'd wanted her to hurt.

He felt as low as dirt when he'd finally admitted it to himself. What kind of man wanted a person to be in pain that he claimed to care about? What kind of man was he that his feelings had been hurt when a friend of his hadn't been miserable over a misunderstanding?

He was a man in love.

The sigh came from the bottom of his toes. It was the sigh of the condemned. He had to admit it to himself or he was going to go crazy with guilt over his selfishness. The problem was, now that he had admitted it, he was going crazy trying to decide what to do about it.

If the bureau knew, they'd split them up so fast his head would spin and that was unacceptable. They were too good as a team and the work they did was too important. Besides, he was on their list anyway ever since the clown shooting incident and he didn't need to give them any more cause for doubt where his job performance was concerned.

They could come to grips with this and keep it completely separate from work. She'd proven over and over again that she could remain totally objective and professional regarding her work, even if personal issues blended at the edges here and there. He would just take a page out of her book and do the same. When they were working a case, they would just be Booth and Brennan, an FBI special agent and a forensic anthropologist. Totally compartmentalized.

Except, there was one little problem. He'd taken a bullet for her.

Rising from his bed, Booth went into the bathroom and started the shower. When two people who worked in the types of intense circumstances that he and Bones worked in became romantically involved it clouded their judgment, he'd seen it before. They let their guard down and then one or both of them would get hurt. He hadn't given it a second's pause when he'd seen Pam level that gun at Bones on the stage. All he could think was to protect her and then he was on the ground bleeding.

Stepping into the shower, he turned the water up to as hot as he could stand. His muscles ached from his poor night's sleep and his brain was so full he wished he could shut it off for just a few moments.

He had been prepared to die for Bones, and if he were given the chance to do it all over again, he wouldn't change a thing. He knew he was in love and now there was no turning back. Once you know, you can't ever un-know.

Which put him at an impasse. He could force a scenario in which they discussed their feelings for each other, which would inevitably tear their team apart in one of two ways. If he told her how he felt and she admitted to feeling the same way, the bureau would split them up. If he told her how he felt and Angela had it wrong, if Bones really didn't care for him the way he cared for her, it would tear them apart from the inside. The last option was that he could ignore things and live with the pain of not having her near him in ways that he was finally willing to admit he wanted her in.

He closed his eyes as he lathered his skin and thought of her face. Her angular jaw, her soft brown hair. She looked like she'd been carved by some renaissance sculptor in the perfection of her features, but his favorite part about her face was her eyes. They were light and sparkling with finely arched eyebrows defining them. The best part about them was how her intelligence shown just under their surface. He loved to look directly into her eyes while she worked a problem in her mind. It was watching genius first hand and it was exhilarating.

He thought about how she'd felt that day just before Christmas when Caroline had made them kiss under the mistletoe so Bones could get a trailer for her dad. He'd thought their kiss would be dry and closed mouthed for five seconds and over before he'd be able to dwell on it.

But she'd let him have it, even grabbing his lapels and he'd gone rock hard instantly. He couldn't think of anything the rest of the day and he'd had to take matters into his own hands, so to speak, when he'd gone home that night in order to get any sleep.

She'd said it was like kissing her brother. Maybe Angela really was just seeing what she wanted to see.

He slapped the shower off with a scowl. He couldn't have any more sleepless nights about this. It was long past time that things were resolved, which made his stomach sink. He knew what he was going to have to do. With his mood blackening by the moment, he dried himself off and set about getting dressed.

He was going to have to talk to Sweets.