Booth rolled his shoulders, the carton of takeout he had procured along the way tucked under his arm. This was what they did. Something traumatic and emotionally draining would occur, and they would sit surrounded by beer and Chinese food – he had tried forcing her to eat pie, but she had made her opinion on cooked fruit crystal - and try and sort through it all. Booth felt that Brennan had accepted the fact that everything would seem better once your stomach was satisfied. At least, that's what he hoped she got from their midnight feasts.

But this time felt different. Something had changed between them - the balance they had tried hard to maintain shifted into something more, something which was fraught with the possibility of both the opportunity for happiness or the end of something before it had begun.

And he was beginning to sound like Dr. Phil.

Sucking in a breath, he moved to rap his knuckles on her door. Hearing heavy footfalls, he straightened his spine and tried to look nonchalant.

'Hey Bones,' he said softly, see her face appear as the door swung open. Her face was scrubbed clean and took on a slightly rosy hue. The dark smudges under her eyes did not attract from her beauty and he felt his heart squeeze when he saw the red rimming the edges.

'Booth.' Her tone was tired.

'I brought Wong Foo's?' He offered, flashing his infamous charm smile. She gave him a weak upward turn of her lips in return and stepped aside to let him in. Locking the door, he turned to find her settled on her couch. A magazine lay open on the coffee table, a glass of whiskey sweating on a coaster.

'So, our friend Jack huh?' Booth asked, placing the carton down on the surface.

'Hodgins isn't here Booth,' Brennan replied, her tone dull.

'I meant Jack Daniels,' Booth corrected her. Lifting the boxes out, Booth chanced a glance at his partner when she didn't respond. She was staring blankly down at the magazine, her hands limp and her back curved over. He let the silence hold while he arranged their dinner out on the table. Seating himself next to her, and careful to keep some distance between them, Booth broke open a pair of chopsticks.

'Eat up Bones.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'You haven't had anything to eat since I was at the lab this morning.'

'I had a salad.'

Curbing his impulse to say that a bunch of soggy leaves drenched in sauce did not constitute a meal, let alone food, Booth set down the fried rice he had been prepared to dig into.

Remember Booth, slow and steady. Don't push her.



Glimpsing uneasily at Brennan, Booth tried to come up with something to say to break the awkward tension that had enveloped them.

'You okay Bones?' As soon as he said it, he winced. Of course she wasn't okay. She had told him what Charlie Jesper had done to her. He clenched his fists just thinking about it, trying to stem the rage that had been simmering slowly since Brennan's confession.

'I don't think I'm going to be much company tonight Booth. Maybe you should just go home.' Translation: I want to be alone.

'I want to be here Bones, alright? So I'm going to sit here and not eat with you,' he said, leaning back and slinging an arm over the back of her couch. Brennan turned to look at him, her gaze scrutinizing. A moment passed before she picked up the sweet and sour shrimp, placing one into her mouth.

That's my girl.

They ate in silence, Booth studying her covertly and Brennan focusing intently on her food.

'Miguel was here before,' Brennan told him. The noodles stopped halfway to his mouth.

'Oh?' He hoped his tone was light.

'Thomas gave him my address before he died,' Brennan continued, setting the beef and broccoli down. 'He came to explain to me again, why he left.'

A pause.

'Did you…' Booth trailed off, unsure of what to say.

'What's done is done. Isn't that what they always say? I don't see the relevance of dwelling upon events that have already occurred. There is nothing that I can do or say that will change the past. My time and energy would be better spent devising ways to deal with what has happened, to try and find another way to achieve the end product that I desire.'

'Bones-'

'I've spent years trying to rationalize methods to help me overcome my fear of intimacy with men. And I believe I've succeeded. I am no longer averse to the thought or act of sexual intercourse. Sully said-'

'Woah, okay Bones,' Booth interrupted, feeling his instinctive negative response to any mention of Brennan's relationship with the former FBI agent. 'I get the point.'

'I've learned to overcome what happened at the Jespers, based on these observations. But why does it feel like it's still…it's still something that I need to deal with?' Her voice wavered at the end.



'Because this isn't the kind of thing you can lock away in your genius mind and just ignore,' Booth told her gently, shifting closer towards her. 'It's one of those things that make you who you are. Sure, it's not something that you particularly want, but its there and you have to learn to live with it.'

Booth felt Brennan lean her head on his shoulder and he let his arm fall to pull her closer.

'I was a sniper Bones. I used to murder people. I shot a father in front of his son. I tore families apart. Yeah, they told me that I was serving my country and I was happy to do that. But it didn't change the fact that I took lives.'

'Your cosmic karmic balance sheet?' Brennan murmured.

'If it were up to me, you would have your family in front of you and none of what happened to you would have happened.'

'That's impossible Booth. My mother is dead and my father and brother are in jail. And you have no control over what happens to me.'

'I know that Temperance. But that doesn't mean I can't try,' Booth told her.

'When Miguel left, I used to sit and stare out the window hoping he would come back. I did that with Russ as well. But they never did.' The last part was said so softly Booth almost didn't hear her.

'I wish things had been different for you. You're too good a person to have had endured all that,' Booth replied, allowing the undercurrent of affection in his voice to leak through.

'Ditto,' Brennan retorted.

'Wow. I'm impressed,' Booth said, looking down at her head in surprise. 'It was used in the correct context and everything.'

'Angela said it earlier today. I like it. It conveys everything you want to say in one clear, concise word,' Brennan stated, reverting back to her anthropological viewpoint. 'It is fascinating how the English language has evolved over the years and incorporated all these "slang" words as authoritative terms found in the dictionary. For example, I found the word bootylicious in my Oxford dictionary the other day.'

Booth resisted the urge to laugh out loud but that quickly petered out as he imagined Brennan shaking her proverbial booty at a club. Zach had mentioned once that Brennan moved her body in a sensual manner, using her feminine allure to entice the opposite sex.

'You're a good man Booth. And a wonderful father. Parker is a lucky boy.' Booth's heart warmed hearing those words. Sometimes Brennan said the wrong thing, but most times she said the right one.

'I'll be here when you need me Bones, okay?'



'Okay,' Brennan said, burrowing her head into his neck. Repressing the urge to shiver when he felt her nose brush against his skin, Booth rubbed her arm soothingly.

'You want some fried rice Bones?'

Pressing her face into his neck for a second longer, Brennan retracted from her position to gaze at him with a faint amount of amazement.

'You love fried rice. Usually you devour it in less than a second-'

'See, that is physically impossible Bones. Maybe a minute. And I eat with good table manners.'

Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan reached for the shrimp.

'Oh and Bones?' She turned to regard him. 'You're welcome.'

The genuine smile she gave him was all he needed.