A/N. Hello! I promise, the angst is *almost* over... I hope... You all know how unpredictable JazzyMuse can be...

Disclaimer: Still own nothing, nada, zip, zilch. It's so unfair...

It was nearly one am by the time Brennan arrived at her destination. She never realized how many similar black SUVs rammed the roads until she was winding up and down the narrow parking lots of Atlantic City looking for her partner's. She was pissed that he hadn't called her back. She was even more angry that he had apparently disabled the tracking device in his truck, because she couldn't ping the vehicle from her cell phone app. If he would just turn on his phone and see her texts or listen to his messages, she would get a bounce back alert on her end, which would direct her to him. But it seemed that he wasn't interested in being found, which gutted her on a deeper level than she expected.

She drove aimlessly for almost twenty minutes before she came to the conclusion that she needed a better plan. Finding an empty space, she pulled in and shifted her car into Park. Her car sat idling while she pondered her next move. She could go up and down the strip, in and out of each and every casino in hopes of finding him, but that would be a long and tedious task, and most definitely not beneficial. After checking Booth's online banking again, she grunted in disapproval that he had apparently stopped using his card once he filled up with gas. She was thankful that he hadn't cancelled her access to his account, because she at least felt confident that she was on the right track in coming to the notorious town, but her knowledge of the Jersey shore was limited, and it frustrated her that she didn't know enough to figure out where he would have gone.

Taking a moment to think, she tried to metaphorically put herself into Booth's shoes. What would he do first? Reserve a room or go into a casino? Surely he would go into a casino before securing a room, because his whole presence there would be impulse, initially he wouldn't care about a place to sleep.

Of course, he had a few hours' head-start, so it was entirely possible that he was already in a room, fast asleep. She narrowed her eyes at the hotel across the parking lot from her, instinctively knowing that a place like that would be too ritzy for Booth's liking... Which meant the casino would probably also be too high-end. He would lean towards a place that, perhaps, wasn't quite so loaded in favor of the House... He would go to an older establishment... One that had been around for a while... One in which he would blend in….where he'd be unrecognizable and virtually invisible against the crowd. She needed to head towards the far end of the famous Boardwalk, down where the locals, or at least local visitors, would be more likely to frequent. Backing out of her spot, she felt a renewed energy and headed in the opposite direction than where she'd been searching.

Fifteen minutes later, the determined scientist was slamming on her brakes when she saw his truck. Yes, she had seen dozens of similar SUVs on her quest that night, but this one, she was certain, was his. She pulled into the poorly lit lot and wound her way over to the vehicle of her focus. Sure enough, it was an FBI standard-issue Toyota SUV with a little knick on the back bumper where her field forensics case had rubbed time and again as she pulled it out at crime scenes.

She found a spot close by and parked her own car, ensuring it was locked before heading into the closest hotel lobby. Approaching the reception desk, she readied to address the young man behind the counter when her phone suddenly beeped. The typically unfazed scientist actually jumped, her phone had been silent for so long, the loud alert startled her. Stepping out of line, she checked the incoming text. Her heart fluttered when she saw that the alerts were actually pings from Booth. He had opened his messages that she sent, and that meant she could triangulate his location using the application Angela provided for her years earlier. Quickly, she activated the app and received a location ping almost immediately, which meant he was close. She was too worried to congratulate herself on knowing her partner so well that she nearly pinpointed his location, but it was definitely something she would revisit on another day.

Following the blinking dot on her phone screen, she found herself in the hotel's smoky and over-crowded casino. She was slightly surprised at the volume of people in the room, given the late hour, but tried not to focus on the patrons too closely. She reminded herself that she was not there for a study in anthropology, she was there to find her partner.

Instinct pushed her over towards the Blackjack and Craps tables, but the ping on her phone indicated that she was going the wrong direction. Doing an about-face, she followed the little signal towards the slot machines and she nearly argued with her phone that her partner would not waste time sitting at a slot machine, but then her eyes were drawn to the wall of windows and glass doors that led out onto the famous Boardwalk.

That's when she saw him.

Sitting with his back towards the building, he was on the far side of the boardwalk, his legs dangling off the edge and his arms and chin resting on the lowest crossbar of the handrail. He was looking out over the darkened beach as it disappeared into the inky waters of the Atlantic. On one side of him was a bottle that she correctly assumed was beer, and on the other side was the Tupperware container that she had been looking for.

Without a word, Brennan approached her partner and sat down beside him, moving the empty bottle out of the way. She slipped her legs over the edge and mirrored his position with her arms and chin resting on the railing. Silently, she watched the glowing outline of a cruise ship way off in the distance; it was the only thing distinguishing the darkened horizon where the ocean ended and the sky began.

After several long moments, he broke the silence, speaking quietly. "That was fast."

She turned her head and studied his profile, noting, not for the first time, how handsome he was. "You checked your messages." She matched his low volume. "When you did that, I was able to locate your phone using Angela's application."

"Yeah. I figured. But I only turned my phone on about ten minutes ago. I know you didn't make it here from DC in only ten minutes." Finally he turned to look at her, struck momentarily speechless the pure beauty of her make-up free face. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "How'd you find me?" He wasn't entirely uncertain that somewhere in his subconscious he had purposely turned on his phone, knowing it would lead her to his side...but he didn't want to think about that just then, he wanted to just get their conversation over.

"I went to your apartment..." She worried that he was going to be angry with her for invading his privacy after she had basically dismissed him from the lab. Trying to determine how to best explain her thought process, she stalled.

"Well," he was already frustrated. If there was one thing he didn't need, it was a conversation with Cryptic-Brennan… He just wanted a damn answer. "Unless there was a squatter that moved in there after I left, I assume the apartment was empty."

Turning in alarm, she shook her head. "There was no squatter, Booth, it was empty." Seeing his eyes roll as he turned back to face the ocean, she realized she had been too literal, as usual. "You were being sarcastic... I'm sorry."

"Just tell me how the hell you knew I was here." He didn't look at her again, just stared out at the beach, watching a couple in the distance walking hand-in-hand, taunting him with their happiness.

"Your container was gone... And..." Now she had to confess to her own unorthodox methods of tracking him down. "I looked at your online banking and saw that you filled up with gas on the northbound rest stop..."

Turning his hard eyes to her, he couldn't decide whether to be impressed that she had used her own resources to deduce his location or tell her off for invading his privacy. "You know way too much shit about me..." He looked back at the ocean. "I'll have to change my locks and my online passwords now..."

"Booth... I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know how else to find you."

"You shouldn't have come looking."

"I was hoping to catch you in time..."

He said nothing, just kept staring out at the water and blindly handed her the plastic container from his side.

Brennan accepted the outstretched offering and was surprised at the weight of it. Cracking the lid and peeking inside, she was surprised at what she found. Her pale eyes lifted to him again, finding him watching her.

"They haven't thawed out yet..." He fixed his jaw determinedly as he met her gaze. "Deal is, I can't spend anything until all of them have thawed..." He turned away from her again.

"And we used a bigger container than your old one when we froze them last time."

"Yep."

She pressed the lid closed, sealing in his partially-frozen credit cards once again. It had been nearly two years since Brennan helped Booth over a hiccup-sized challenge when he wanted to lose himself gambling again. It had been after a particularly difficult case involving an abusive father and the unfortunate outcome of one of his drunken rampages, which resulted in the death of two of his three children. At that time, Booth had confessed to his partner that one of the purposely placed obstacles he used to manage his gambling habits was to freeze his credit cards. Literally.

He would take a one-quart container, the kind he'd get whenever he bought take-out soup from the neighborhood corner Chinese restaurant, and he would freeze it half full of water. Once it was frozen solid, he would place his emergency credit cards inside and fill it the rest of the way with water, sealing the cards until he needed them. If he wanted to make a large purchase, he had to seriously consider the necessity of the purchase before spending the money, because it involved thawing out the container. This, he learned, had been an excellent deterrent to gambling because by the time the ice would thaw enough to extract the cards, the overwhelming urge to gamble would typically be dulled down to a familiar, quiet hum. He was used to the constant undercurrent of his gambling addiction and had learned to manage it in his own way on a daily basis, as unorthodox as it may seem to someone from the outside looking in on his life.

But Brennan had never criticized his method or ridiculed him in any way. She had been impressed by his inventive, and obviously effective, practice. When, after the grueling case had finally come to an end, and he was refusing to answer her calls, she found him at home alone, staring at a melting quart of ice, and they talked through his dark mindset and re-froze the cards in a larger container. His promise to both himself and to her was that he wouldn't spend anything until he could get all three of his cards out of their frozen safe, even if one was loose enough to extract, he would wait until everything had thawed.

And thus was the case on this moonlit evening on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. One card was thawed enough to pull from the container, but the other two were not yet, so all three remained sealed inside. Brennan held onto the container, brushing the condensation down the sides and letting the droplets fall onto the sand far below their dangling feet.

"You shouldn't have come." Booth was avoiding her eyes again, looking up at the moon instead.

"I wanted to help. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I don't need your help, Temperance." He opened his hand, silently asking for his container back, and she reluctantly returned it to his wide palm, feeling the sting of her given name as he said it. Pushing back from the edge, Booth stood to his full height, shoving a hand into his pocket. "This is who I am..."

Not understanding what he meant, she shifted and turned, getting her feet beneath her so she could stand as well. She felt confused and angry, unappreciated and determined. "That," she jutted her hand towards the glass windows looking in at the casino, "is not who you are, Booth!" She pinched her lips closed and huffed a sharp breath from her nose. "You are better than that! You've beat it. Time and again, I've seen you overcome that demon."

Pissed that she would dare pass judgement over him, he invaded her personal space, going nose to nose with her. "No, Bones," his instinct overrode his desire to forget her nickname. "That is exactly who I am. And I am done changing for people. I am done!" He spat the words at her and started to turn away, but she grabbed the container from his unsuspecting hand and stepped back from him.

Turning back in disbelief, he reached unsuccessfully for the Tupperware. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He growled at her and started towards her, backing her against the railing in three swift steps.

She moved the container behind her, gripping it with both hands and refusing to give it to him; refusing to let him ruin all the years of hard work. "No. I will not give it back to you, Booth!" She yelled, not caring who might hear. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you that you want to ruin everything...everything you worked for, everything you've built."

"I told you, I'm done. I'm going back to being me. Just me! A fucking local from Philly who likes to try his luck at the tables. And if I lose," he shrugged, "too fucking bad." He tried reaching around her, but she spun on her heel and put her back to him, hugging the jar against her abdomen in protection. "I told you, I'm done. Now give me the Goddamn cards, Temperance."

"Done with what, Booth?" She was grunting through her teeth, wanting an answer and demanding an explanation. "What exactly are you done doing? Because it sure as hell looks to me like you're not done fucking up your life! Not if you're planning to go in there and waste your money!" She didn't typically resort to swearing, but her partner made her so mad sometimes, she just couldn't help it.

Backing away and staring at the back of her head, his brow wrinkled. He leaned in and spoke quietly, darkly, against her hair, "I'm done changing for the women in my life, Bones."

She shivered at the threatening tone of his voice and her shoulders slumped in surprise at his response. She turned in stunned silence, coming to face him nose-to-nose once again. "What?" Her voice was softer now, needing an explanation.

"You heard me." He was angry and he pinned her with a hard stare. "The women in my life... The ones who I've changed for... They don't want me anyhow, not matter what I do. So I'm through changing, and I'm just gonna be me. For the first time since I can remember, I'm just gonna do what I want to do, without worrying about what someone else will think."

Honestly at a loss, Brennan tilted her head slightly. "I don't understand." It was as truthful and open as she could possibly be.

Stepping back a half-step, Booth stood upright, inwardly regretting how he had hunched over her, invaded into her security. Realizing that she was looking for clarification, he nodded once. "For Rebecca, I tried to be the responsible adult...wanted her to marry me so we could raise our kid as a family... But I wasn't good enough. For Tessa, it didn't matter how many nights we spent together, my schedule was a hindrance and inconvenient. Cam and I ended up better off as friends than lovers... Because I'm 'friend material'. For Hannah, I tried to be the fun-loving, happy-go-lucky man she wanted... And even when I played that role, I wasn't worth it to her..." He pulled further away, putting more distance between them, debating whether or not to even lump her in with the rest. "And you." Yep, he was gonna do it. "I quit gambling for you. Worked harder than ever at my job so you and I could be successful. Starting watching the freakin' Discovery channel in the wee hours when I couldn't sleep, for Christ's sake... Kept hoping one day that we could go somewhere, you and me...that our partnership was merely a stepping stone for the relationship that we could have." He shook his head and waved one arm out to the side, pointing at nothing. "But hell, you don't even want to be my partner anymore. This partnership was just something you could throw out with your garbage... Our partnership wasn't a stepping stone to anywhere... I was a stepping stone for you."

Shocked at his frame of mind and frightened that she would say the wrong thing, she stood there dumbly, opening and closing her mouth as she tried to think of a way to fix this.

Accepting her silence as a confession, he puffed out a pitiful, disbelieving laugh. "That's what I thought." He reached out and removed his Tupperware container from her now-lax hands and turned away. "Can't believe it took me so long to figure out..." He cracked open the lid near a trash can and fished into the cold water, extracting a chunk of ice. Defying his own rule of waiting for all three cards to thaw, he pounded the ice once against the side of the can and it shattered, releasing its grip on the cards and he dried them on his pants.

Shaken from her stupor, Brennan spoke, her voice was trembling and thick with emotion. "That's not true, Booth." She sidled up alongside him and gently reached out and covered his hand as he squared up his credit cards.

Tired of fighting, tired of playing guessing games with her, he just looked into her pleading eyes. "Which part isn't true, Bones? The part where none of the women in my life really give a shit about me? Or the part where you used me?"

"All of it, Booth." When she saw his hackles go up in defense, she amended her argument.

"Ok, wait. I can't speak for anyone else, but I can certainly speak for myself. And I can tell you what I've witnessed with those other women, and what it all means to me."

"You forget, you're not exactly a people-person, y'know..."

"No, but I am an anthropologist. And my primary field of study is human anthropology, which is the study of humans... And as an anthropologist, it's my job to interpret the meanings, albeit sometimes hidden or obscure meanings, behind those activities or actions that I observe." She raised her chin, feeling a sense of confidence wash over her as she discussed that with which she was comfortable. "Those women are humans. And I've studied them... and I have an interpretation, a theory if you will, that I think you should hear."

"Oh, this should be good," he grumbled under his breath as he pulled his hand from beneath hers, but losing his cards to her surprisingly quick and strong grip. He was in no mood for a lecture or one of her squinty lessons, but if it would get her out of his hair, he would listen...Stubbornly...under duress and against his better judgement. But he'd listen. "Ok, let's have it."

"Can we go inside and sit?" She pointed to a small cafe that was still open, despite the late hour.

"Nope."

Not expecting such a terse answer, she frowned, causing the familiar 'v' to form between her brows.

Booth refused to go anywhere that would give her the upper hand, even if it was just a coffee joint selling piss-warm tasteless coffee at two o'clock in the morning. "This is where you found me... This is where you planned to 'save me from myself,' so this," he pointed to the boards below, "is where we're gonna do this," he motioned between the two of them. He planted his feet firmly at shoulders width, crossed his arms over his chest and waited. "Or we don't do this at all."

"Fine." She turned her dainty little nose up and spun on her heel. Stalking back over to the side of the boardwalk, she sat down, once again dangling her feet over the edge.

Unsure if she meant 'fine, we do this out here,' or 'fine, we don't do this at all,' Booth stood there for a moment, staring at the back of her head, watching the breeze whip the loose strands from her ponytail around her neck. His eyes traveled down the straight line of her back as she sat rigidly, her hands folded on her lap. Reasoning that he couldn't do anything without his cards anyway, he sighed and sauntered over to where she sat. With a quick roll of his eyes towards the heavens, he plopped down next to her, also letting his feet hang over the side.

Brennan's lips were tight as she contemplated the best way to go about explaining her thoughts.

After several silent moments in which the pair simply sat side-by-side, staring out over the beach, Booth broke the silence, speaking softly, almost apologetically. "I'm listening, Bones."

Postscript A/N

Well, Brennan has some coming clean to do and Booth has some confessions of his own to make... Let's just hope they can iron everything out in the next chapter, huh?

Thank you for all your support and the thoughtful reviews. I appreciate all of you.

peace and love, my friends,

~jazzy