It was the sun that woke me up. Usually it was my alarm or my phone, but today it was the sunlight that was streaming through the windows of my apartment. I curled up in its warmth and then slowly opened my eyes, yawning.

I sat up. Why wasn't I in bed? I was on my couch, my neck stiff from the awkward angle I slept in after crying myself to sleep.

And then I remembered.

Oh.

Booth was gone.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I had never been one to cry, even in my childhood, but whenever Booth's smiling face swam up in my mind, I had to restrain myself from breaking out into sobs.

What was I going to do without Booth? I couldn't imagine being without him. He taught me how to be… well, a sociable person.

Whenever I thought about it, I got this strange feeling in my chest. It was… agonizing, for lack of a better word to describe it. I was no stranger to sorrow, guilt, pain, and anger, but none of these felt the same as the pain residing in my chest. My body felt heavy and leaden. I felt tired, even though I was usually an early riser and should be more awake, considering that I overslept. None of this made any sense.

And that was really what was scaring me. Nothing was making sense. I didn't know what to do. There wasn't anything logical about this situation. There weren't any facts or statistical data that would make this any more real. Or any more acceptable to me. This whole situation was completely out of my control. Not only were these emotions hurting me, they were making me uncomfortable.

I had been alone for a large part of my life. But, I hadn't felt alone in many years. Not since I met Booth. He made sure of that. But now, I was alone. I had gotten emotionally close to someone, and they had left me. Just like they all did. Eventually.

It was a small consolation, however, that Booth didn't leave because he wanted to. Or did he? Why didn't he fight harder? Didn't he know what this would do to me, how much this would hurt me?

One thing was for certain: I would never trust another person like I trusted Booth ever again.

…

There were reminders everywhere. Everywhere I looked, I saw him. In the coffee I made. In my Jeffersonian ID badge. In my car. In the fact that I didn't have breakfast. He was all over the Jeffersonian too. It made it unbearable to be there at all.

The moment I stepped into the building, a harassed and tired-looking Angela practically attacked me with questions. She was concerned. I had run off so fast last night, she wondered if I was 'OK'. Or, as she said, 'as OK as anyone in your situation can be'. I asked her what she meant by that.

"Oh, you know," she said, "you and Booth were… close."

But she said 'close' like she didn't mean close. I wondered what she meant by it. If Booth were here he would explain it to me.

I didn't want Angela's pity, or anyone's for that matter. I didn't want to acknowledge my feelings to myself, and I certainly didn't want to talk about them with anyone else.

Don't think about it, I told myself.

"I'm fine," I replied stiffly. Even to my own ears, it sounded fake and strained. "Booth and I were partners and nothing more."

Angela looked at me like she wanted to say something else, so I interrupted her.

"Look, Angela. I really don't want to speak about it," I told her and then continued to my office.

….

I was panicking.

My heart rate had increased by a significant amount, my eyes were dilated, and my breathing was too fast.

I recognized the symptoms, but couldn't do anything to control them.

Everyone wanted to talk about Booth. Everyone wanted to give their condolences and share stories about him. But no one realized that this only made me feel worse. I felt anxiety forming in the pit of my stomach and, finally, I couldn't take it any longer. I rushed into in the parking garage where I was now gasping for oxygen.

He's gone. He's gone. He's gone.

The fact repeated in my mind, over and over again.

I had to get out of here.

The people were forcing me to think about what I so just wanted to forget and continue living my life. I knew that this was unreasonable to wish, but the more I thought about the lack of Booth's presence in all of my remaining life, the more it made me want to regurgitate.

I had to leave.

I got into my car (I had picked it up at The Checkerbox before work. I forced myself not to look at the building. I ended up crying on the way to work anyway. Was this the pathetic person I was turning into? Someone who cries in her car on the way to work?) and drove to Booth's apartment without really consciously acknowledging that that was where I was going.

When I looked at the building as I stepped out of the car, I didn't cry. I felt too numb.

I climbed the stained and worn out stairs that Booth and I had climbed together so many times before.

I let myself in using the key that he had given me. I don't think that he would've minded me entering his apartment without his permission. It's not as if I could've asked his permission. If I could've, I would've.

As I stood in the doorway, I took a long look at his apartment. Everything was in exact accordance as the last time I was here.

That's when I knew I was going to run.

I couldn't stay here, not with the constant reminders of Booth and the knowing looks from my co-workers. I certainly would not continue working for the FBI! They would assign me another partner; I refuse to work with anyone other than Special Agent Seeley Booth.

I had to leave the country. But where would I go? Then I remembered the Ethiopian dig that I was offered a place at. I had initially turned the offer down because I was much too busy solving murders with Booth in DC, but now it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Ethiopia was not only isolated from the rest of the world (especially America), but would provide a sufficient distraction from my thoughts.

I'm sure that the company would still accept me even though I had turned them down. I was the best in the world. Whoever they were considering to be my replacement couldn't out match me.

Knowing that this would be the last time my eyes would ever fall upon Booth's apartment, my feet carried me towards the bedroom.

And upon entering, I couldn't help myself from picking up the old FBI t-shirt that was strew on the bed and instinctively bringing it up to my nose.

It smelt like Booth.

I knew that it was just the olfactory cells in my nose that were creating this emotion inside of me, but the sweet smell that was purely the essence of Booth made me forget – even if it was just for a moment – that Booth did not currently reside here. Or reside anywhere, for that matter.

And as odd as it may seem, directly upon inhaling the sent of the shirt, it felt like my heart was literally expanding in my chest.

Was this what a heart attack felt like? A stroke? Heartburn? What was wrong with me? Was I sick?

But the sensation that filled me was… bittersweet (at least, I think that is the correct colloquialism for the situation. Although, before this moment, I did not understand how a sweet thing can also be described as 'bitter').

What was I feeling? It scared me; I had no idea what was happening to me or why I was feeling this way.

If I could just talk to Booth, just for a moment… but he was dead. What would I say to him anyway?

Oh.

Oh no.

Was this what people felt like when they were in… love? Love is just a chemical response… but that doesn't explain why I feel this why. It must just be the olfactory cells in my nose delivering the message to my brain incorrectly.

Is this feeling… love?

Could it be?

I, Temperance Brennan, have realized that I am in love with Special Agent Seeley Joseph Booth. But it's too late.

…...

Angela's POV:

I am so worried about Bren.

This is so hard. For all of us. My eyes are red and puffy from sobbing into Jack's shoulder last night. And the night before that. But at least we can acknowledge that. Bren refuses to talk. I have been calling and calling her cell ever since she ran out of the lab yesterday afternoon. I knew this was her own special way of grieving and stuff, but I had to make sure she was all right.

I glanced at the clock again. 11:37am. Where was she? I had been waiting all morning. Brennan is never late.

11:38

11:39

11:40

OK, this is ridiculous. I am going to check her apartment just to make sure she is OK…

I put down the remote to the Angelator and briskly walked over to the platform. I swiped my card and spoke to Jack on my way through.

"Hon, I'm going to Bren apartment," I told him, my voice leaving no room for disagreement.

"OK…" Hodgins was apprehensive. Last night we had agreed not to go after Brennan. If this was part of her healing process, then fine. We wouldn't mess with that. But Hodgins didn't stop me as I made my way towards the end of the platform.

I stooped to give him a quick kiss and then headed to my car. He gave me a sympathetic smile, which I returned.

It took me ten whole minuets to reach Bren's apartment (damn traffic…). When I got there, I climbed the stairs and upon reaching her door, knocked loudly.

No response.

I sighed. This was to be expected.

"Bren," I called loudly, ignoring the annoyed looks of the elderly couple that live next to her, "I know you're in there! Open up, sweetie! You can't stay in there forever!"

I expected her to open to the door and say something like "forever is an unreasonable amount of time, Ange, because we would all be deceased by then" or whatever. But no reply came.

I grumbled. She leaves me no choice. I whipped out the spare key Bren gave me.

The lock clicked and I let my self in.

"Sweetie?" I spoke to the seemingly empty room. But Bren could be hiding. I had just made up my mind to check all the rooms when my eyes fell across a piece of paper in the doorway.

I picked it up.

Angela,

You were right. About everything. You know what I am talking about. But now it is too late.

I love Booth.

You do not know how hard it was for me to finally admit that. But I just wish I had done it sooner. He is gone, and it is too painful for me to stay here in DC. I am going to Ethiopia, where they have offered me a job at the Ethiopian Anthropological Dig. I'll be safe.

I'll be contacting you soon.

-Brennan

Oh. My. God.