I never saw Katie again after that. That was also the last attempt I made at forming a bond with anyone in the system. It taught me that in an instant anything could be taken from you.

To keep myself sane, I buried myself even deeper into forensic anthropology, finding solace in the irrefutable logic and rationality which defined the field. I began to completely close myself off from the world, and probably never would have survived if not for being rescued out of the system.

Temperance was back in a group home after the family she was staying with decided they wanted a child of their own. She was sitting on the hard mattress, her aquamarine eyes concentrating fully on the book in her hands. She rubbed her eyes unconsciously- she had been reading for the past six hours, and she was getting quite tired. Stifling a yawn, she looked at the dilapidated watch on her wrist, which read 1:37 A.M. The dirty windows allowed for no light or absence thereof to penetrate it, so she hadn't seen the sun come down and the moon rise. She lost track of time when she was reading. She shut the dim lamp off, and rested her head on the hard pillow, hoping that the emptiness of sleep would overtake her. She was just drifting off when she heard a loud voice.

"Dammit, are you people stupid? That's my granddaughter, Temperance Brennan. My name is Jack Walters; I'm her mother's father. Obviously you people don't give a crap about what happens to her, but I do. Where is she? Tempe?" the man said.

Bafflement came upon the now coherent Temperance. Her mother had told her that her grandparents were dead, and her father had no family whatsoever. So who was this strange man claiming to be her grandfather? She racked her tired brain, but came up with no answer.

"There you are, Tempe. I'm taking you out of here," the unnamed man said, grabbing her hand as he said so. He saw her bewilderment and whispered in her ear "I know you don't know who I am, but you have to trust me. I'm a friend of your parents. You have to trust me, Tempe." Even though her ordeals had nearly eradicated her faith in people, something told her that this man's words were true. Jack was someone she could depend on.

Still wary, however, she got up from her bunk and grabbed the ripped garbage bag underneath it. He was appalled at the condition of her only possessions, and protectively draped an arm around her as they walked out.

Once they stepped out into the brisk night air, Temperance gazed inquisitively at Jack, the look in her eyes demanding an explanation.

"Obviously you know I'm not your grandfather, Tempe. But I am a friend of your parents'. They had told Russ to contact me in an emergency. A few weeks ago, he got a hold of me and told me you were in the foster system. I found where he called from, but once I got there, the people he worked with told me that he had flown the coop right after he had called me. None of them knew where he had gone from there. After I realized I had not a chance of finding him, I immediately drove from Oregon to come and get you. I know you're probably scared, and I'm sure you don't believe me, but trust is all that matters here. Trust me. Let me take you home, and then we can figure things out." Jack said supportively. Her blue eyes widened, and she nodded, following him to his beat up car.

"I lived with Jack in Oregon for about 2 ½ years. He became my grandfather in all ways except biological. He took care of me, teaching me that everyone needed someone. I took care of him, dealing with all problems relating to his health, as his weight provided for some minor health concerns, mainly the fact that he was hypertensive and had atrial fibrillation, or a-fib, and had to take medication to keep both conditions under control. I still had problems making friends of my own age: they just didn't understand me. Too quickly, I turned 18 and it was time to go to university. Just as I was heading off to college, something terrible happened.

"Jack, I'll see you in a few months when I come home for Thanksgiving." Tempe said.

"I know, sweetheart, but I'm really gonna miss you." Jack said softly, embarrassed at his rare revelation of his feelings.

"I'm going to miss you, too. You've been so good to me these past 2 years," Temperance responded in kind, a single tear dripping down her cheek.

"Aw, Tempe, honey, don't cry. A girl like you deserves to be treated good. Make sure you don't forget that." Jack offered her as advice.

"I won't, Jack. I promise. I'll see you soon. I love you." Temperance said, her eyes glistening with tears as she voiced the words that were so hard for her to say. In fact, this was the first time she had ever said them to Jack.

"I love you too, Tempe. I…" He returned the sentiment and then cut off his next sentence abruptly, clutching his chest.

Temperance saw the wide-eyed look on the man's face and his grasping at his chest and put them together. He was going into cardiac arrest.

As to concur with her conclusion, he fell to the floor at that very instant, his face turning as white as a sheet. Tempe snapped right into action and began to perform CPR in an effort to make the blood circulate through his body once again. Tears ran in a torrent down her face as she began to push harder and harder, even slapping his stone chest in frustration. Her irrational side made her keep trying, but she knew that Jack was gone from this world. After another half hour of fruitless attempts, she rose from the ground and lifted her hands off the frigid corpse.

Not bothering to dry the trails of tears on her cheeks, she pulled out her cell phone and called 911, knowing that there was no more she or anyone could do for him. Within minutes, the ambulance arrived, and she was forced to ride in the ambulance, for reasons she couldn't understand. He was dead. An autopsy could tell how he died. There was no need for her input on the matter. She just wanted to be left alone to mourn her loss.

"Jack's official COD was cited as Sudden Arrhythmia Death Syndrome, or SADS. He had left everything he owned to me, as he had no other family. I used the meager funds to support myself through college, and ended up at the Jeffersonian interning the year after I got my Ph.D. And you know the story from there." She finished, slumping down on the couch.

"You have to admit, Bones, it's kinda weird that when we were teenagers both of us were rescued by a 'grandfather'." Booth said his first words in over an hour.

"Yeah, you're right. That's why it was so easy for me to relate to your grandfather. He reminded me so much of my own, and made me miss him even more." Brennan admitted.

"It's okay to feel grief, Bones. Feeling emotions doesn't make you weak. It makes you human," Seeley said philosophically.

"I know, it's just whenever I open myself up to someone, they always end up taking advantage of me," she confessed.

"Everyone?" he asked, the daring question in his tender gaze.

"Not everyone," Temperance said, her eyes locking with his.

The two stared, unblinking, at each other for an immeasurable amount of time before Brennan looked away and shattered the moment. An awkward silence then ensued, during which Brennan encouraged her bad habit of biting her nails and Booth ran his fingers through his thick hair.

Seeley broke the tension by saying "It looks like we aren't as much of polar opposites as everyone thinks."

"Who thinks we are opposites? I don't." Brennan inquired truthfully.

"Sweets, Cam, Angela. Wait, you don't think so? But you see the world one way, the way of science and rationality. I rely on instinct and my gut, and believe in Jesus and God and divine intervention. How are we the same?"

"We both have the same drive to have criminals pay the price for what they did. That's why we work together. Wait, Sweets? You've talked to him about this?" Brennan asked incredulously.

"I got a copy of his manuscript for the book about us off his hard drive." Booth disclosed, a look on his face like a little boy caught in a lie.

"What did he say in it?" Temperance wondered aloud.

"I never opened it. Do you want to look at it with me?" Booth asked hopefully.

"Sure," she accepted, smiling. He pulled his phone out of his tight jean pocket, and with a few quick keystrokes, sent the file to her laptop. They sat down side by side, the computer resting on one leg of each of them, and they began to read. Bored of the "psychological mumbo-jumbo", Booth turned to the last page of the book.

Dr. Brennan believes that love is an exchange of chemicals in the brain alerted by the subtle indicators of a good breeder. Agent Booth, on the other hand, sees love as transcendent and eternal, something you can lose yourself in. Regardless of their views, manifestations of this emotion are visible in certain ways. A touch lingering slightly longer than necessary, an entrancing stare that neither wants to break. Doing anything within their power to ensure the other's welfare. A willingness to sacrifice their own life for the other. The ability to kill anyone who endangers the other.

All these things they have done without a thought, without a qualm, putting themselves in harm's way for their partner. And yet, neither of them believes the other shares their feelings. They surround each other in a dance, sometimes taking a step closer, then backing away. Neither makes a move that brings them close enough to make any real headway in the situation, and so they dance on. One day, these two will confront their feelings, and realizes that they are truly in love.

Brennan, with her exceptionally quick mind, finished the passage first. She turned her blue eyes to Booth's profile, patiently waiting for the love of her life to complete it. A few moments later, he looked up and met her intense gaze. After a few seconds of silence, they both simultaneously began to speak. Booth said "What a bunch of crap," and Brennan said "Who is he kidding?" They exchanged at glance and laughed at the alleged unfeasibility of the conclusion of Sweets's story.

Secretly, both were shocked that the young professional had ascertained the true nature of their feelings before they had come to the realization themselves. After all, he had begun writing this book over a year ago. What astonished them even more was that he actually had the mettle to put it into words and publish it for the world to see, when they couldn't even admit it to each other without quantifiers.

Brennan and Booth sat in silence for an inordinate amount of time, neither knowing what to say to relieve the tension hanging in the air between them. Every time Booth glanced at Brennan, she turned her head away shyly in an unfamiliar gesture, at least for her. He realized the only way to terminate the cat and mouse game was to stare at her relentlessly until she succumbed to the urge to return the gaze.

Booth's chocolate brown eyes ran up and down her face, taking in each and every detail of the flawless planes of her face. Her high, accentuated cheekbones, which gave her an exotic air; the way her jaw jutted out, the curly piece of auburn hair that sat on the nape of her neck, brushing her porcelain skin; the way her eyes twinkled when she was confronted with a challenge. He could go on about her and her positive attributes for hours.

Brennan's extraordinary mental capabilities left her ridiculously bored in her pursuit of counting the numerous shades within the carpet fabric. Despite her efforts to keep her mind singularly focused, her thoughts kept wandering to the man next to her, and the ominous (and theoretical, of course) pachyderm in the room. She mentally reprimanded herself; never before had she been bothered by the tension between the two partners, but it had never been so obvious before. Yes, she had seen it, but she had condoned it, as she believed it petty and trivial, something she could shove to the back of her mind. Now it consumed each and every idle thought. How his brown eyes cherished her and appreciated her and loved her all in one glance. The way the blinding smile of his could leave her so spellbound.

Sighing resignedly at her loss, she lifted her blue eyes from the carpet and their eyes met. The electricity behind the gaze was building steadily; soon one would break. It was Booth who surrendered first. "Bones, I made a huge mistake," he said shamefully, his posture giving him away. A look of puzzlement ornamented her face, her brow furrowing and her eyes widened. He elaborated, "When Epps almost killed Cam, I told you that there was a line." Her mouth dropped open a little- they never talked about that, she had actually thought that he had forgotten about it entirely. Little did she know he regretted uttering those words each and every day. As he opened his mouth to speak again, her eagerly ready to listen to whatever it was he could summon up the courage to say, a sudden sound interrupted them. The sound of rapping knuckles on the wooden door of her apartment was clear to the two sitting there, and they jumped back quickly, the stimulus making them realize their extreme proximity to each other.

Both were disconcerted at this sudden arrival, knowing that late visits like this were out of the norm for most people. Despite her trepidation that this mysterious visitor might be a threat, Brennan arose quickly, smoothing down her rumpled outfit, and spanned the short distance to the door in record time. Brennan stared through the peephole, and saw a pretty young woman on the other side of the glass. She figured that this innocent-looking woman posed no danger to her, and besides, if anything did happen, she had the best backup possible- Booth.