A/N: Happy Bones-Day! I post this knowing that no matter how angsty it gets, your mood will be lifted tonight by a new epi of our fave show. Very exciting!

Thanks so much for the incredibly awesome response to this story. You are the best readers a girl could ask for. Nobody even threatened to vandalize my house! Love yous.

Special thanks goes out to kinseyjo and mia101, who have been my looker-overs and have been so, incredibly supportive. They are also so disgustingly fabulous and talented that they should be very glad I love them, or else I might be the one vandalizing houses in a jealous fangirl rage. Yes, all you talented people. Take that as a warning. Am scary.

Loves.

--

He went to the diner for awhile, because he didn't know where else to go. He drank his coffee and each time seemed vaguely surprised when the waitress appeared to refill him, not having remembered drinking the whole cup. But she must have done it six or seven times, and by the last his insides felt shaky from a caffeine overdose. So he walked. Walked around the once-familiar streets of Washington D.C., seeing but not really taking in all the landmarks which used to signify home. When he at last ended up at her apartment, it was more because he had run out of options, than that he truly meant to go there. He knocked, not completely expecting an answer, but he got one nonetheless. She opened the door quietly and stood aside, allowing him entrance. He floated in as if in a trance, somehow finding his way to her couch. They sat in silence for awhile.

"I'm sorry. I was kind of a jerk to you," she finally said, eyes cast downward as she fiddled with her fingers.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I just showed up out of nowhere." He was having similar trouble meeting her eyes.

Some more silence.

"Honesty-time, I guess?" he asked.

"I guess."

"Angela called me. She thought maybe I could help, because she was worried about you. I told Jen I was coming for Parker's soccer game this weekend. He's been asking me to come. Is tired of always being the one on the plane back and forth."

She nodded slowly. He glanced at her expectantly.

"What do you want to know?" she asked.

How could she ask? Everything. Nothing. "How long?"

"Suspected for two weeks. Took a test last week."

"And you're…"

"Yes."

"And I'm…" He couldn't finish the question.

"Pretty likely. I didn't…unprotected…with Oliver. Or anybody else."

His head swam. "Temperance."

Her head fell back against the chair, light reflecting off her drawn face. "I didn't want you to know."

He shook his head dazedly. "You don't think I would have found out?"

She lifted her head. "No. You wouldn't have." Definitively.

His brain was stretched, overtaxed. It reacted violently against the implication of her words. "No," he whispered, shaking his head hard. "No. No."

"Booth." Her voice was strained. "You should just leave now. Just walk away."

"If I couldn't before, what makes you think I could now?" He was starting to feel a terrifying mixture of fury and shame and fear.

"I have an appointment with the doctor this weekend."

"Please don't do this. Please."

Her face was disbelieving. "Well what else do you recommend that I do, Booth? I'd love to hear it. Should I raise the child myself, and you can secretly send me a check once a month as your fatherly contribution? Should I tell Oliver it's his? Should you and I run away together and live in another country with our love child? Do those sound like better options to you?"

He understood what she was saying, the complete and utter impossibility of a satisfactory resolution to this situation. It convinced him of nothing, except his desire to die right at this moment. Just disappear, so that he could stop causing this extraordinary pain for everyone in his life whom he cared about.

"Why did you have to come back here," she regretted softly, although she understood as well as he the uselessness of wishing away what has happened.

"Well. There is the fact that I haven't been able to sleep for more than three hours at a time since that night, because I wake up with nightmares. There's the fact that I've been reprimanded twice since that time for making mistakes at work, because I can't concentrate on anything long enough to do it right. And then, there's that I haven't been able to make love to my wife without getting half-drunk first, because my mind will not allow my body to function naturally when everything feels so unnatural. I could go on, but you can just pick one of those things if you really need a reason," he responded, bitterly, numbly.

"Sorry, Booth. I get it. But right now, none of them seem good enough."

He thought for a second, then laughed hollowly. "I suppose they wouldn't."

Another silence fell over them, one that seemed that drag on for hours. What else was there to say? Nothing was adequate, or helpful.

"I don't suppose you have a hotel room tonight, so you can stay in the guest room. Or on the couch." Her voice was tired. So tired. "Tomorrow, I can drive you to the airport if you need a ride."

"I'm not leaving tomorrow." It was the first thing he had said with certainty since coming to her apartment.

"Booth…"

"I'm staying until this weekend. I'm not letting you do this alone."

"This isn't the time to be a martyr."

"Screw that."

She didn't respond.

His eyes met hers, and this time, wouldn't let them go. "We did this together, Temperance," he said. She could see in his face there was no arguing. "We're going to finish it together, too."

--

They sat across from one another at the diner the next day. Booth had to get out of her apartment. She had insisted on going to work. He knew better than to try to talk her out of it. She drank her tea. He drank his coffee. They both looked like war victims.

"Are you sure this is the right thing?" he asked quietly, sunken eyes studying her. His sleep on the couch had been fitful.

"It makes the most sense."

"And you can live with it."

"Yes. I don't believe what your religion teaches about this topic."

"I'm not talking about religion. Or…sense. I'm talking about you."

She was quiet, and he couldn't distinguish between his urges to leave, to shake her, to hold her.

"There's really…nothing I can say, is there?" he said, defeatedly. "Your mind is made up."

He couldn't read her face. "You think this is easy for me, Booth? That the thought of what I'm about to do isn't horrible, devastating? For once in my life I did something completely contrary to logic, to what I knew to be right. And not surprisingly, it turned out as badly as it could have. Now, we're dealing with the consequences. It kills me. It tears me apart. But I'm doing it because logically, there is no better choice. I'm not going to go against logic this time. Have gone that route. And this is where it brought us."

Sadness panged inside of him, and it took a moment to collect his thoughts. "You know…when I went to Cam's wedding, I told myself it was to make reparations with you and our team. But the instant I saw you…I had to fight to remember that mission. All I could think about was getting you to smile at me again. Really smile. Making you look at me again with that look you had for me at the end of our three years together…that respect and trust and caring. All I could think about was feeling at home again. And…as much as I have tried to fight knowing this…home was you, Bones."

She was getting uncomfortable, squirming in her seat. "I don't see how this is relevant to our current situation."

"What I'm saying is…I hate myself for what I've done to Jen. And I hate myself for the pain that you are going through. But what we did…being together…I don't believe that part was a mistake."

"I don't see how you can say that." She was shaking her head, trying not to hear him.

"Because I was there, Bones. I was there." His hand reached across the table and captured her own before she could pull it away. In spite of herself, her fingers gripped back at his as if clawing to the surface of some icy depths. "Do you remember?" he practically begged.

The memories were reflected in her eyes, and even though she didn't speak, he knew she was remembering. The undeniable pull that that encouraged her to join him in the car on that cold night. The irresistible attraction of her body in such close proximity to his own, the heat drawing them together. Knowing that, however complicated the circumstances in life outside that car, their bodies coming together was the most natural and beautiful thing either of them had ever experienced. She knew.

But…

"It doesn't change anything," she whispered. And she looked so hopeless in that moment that he feared what would happen if he even tried to challenge her, tried to pull away from her the one thing she believed now for certain: that she was doing the right thing.

Nodding tiredly, he released her hand. "Okay."

"Okay?" She looked vaguely surprised.

"Whatever you want, Bones. Whatever you need. I'll be there for you."

"It's what we need," she said quietly.

He didn't know if he believed her. But if it was what it took for her to believe in herself again, he wouldn't take it away from her.

--

A/N: Thoughts? (-ducks-)