A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for your kind words and encouragement! This is the first creative writing I've done in 8 or 9 years, and I've realized how much I really missed it. Right now I have over 50K words written on this story, and it's still just pouring out of me. Replies to guest reviews are on my profile page, but I think I replied to all the others. If I missed you: THANK YOU for reading and reviewing!

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

Chapter 4

Brennan sat next to Booth at the bar in Wong Foo's, trying to understand why he had declined any recognition for stopping the bombing.

"But it would be a Rose Garden ceremony… That's an honor, right? I thought you FBI guys loved your medals?" Brennan asked in consternation.

"There's no pleasure in taking someone's life," Booth answered soberly. "Nothing to celebrate."

Brennan smiled and touched his arm, finally encouraging him to meet her eyes. "You saved so many people, Booth. Don't forget that."

Booth smiled back at her and thought that he could easily get used to the feel of her hands on him.

"You want to have another drink?" Booth asked her softly.

"Thanks, but I'm going to head back to the lab for a little while. I have some things I need to finish up."

"Oh come on, Bones. It's late, and you've got to be exhausted. Why not just pick things up where you left off tomorrow, huh?"

Brennan smiled, but shook her head stubbornly. "No, I really want to get it done tonight." He gave her a pleading look, and she went on, "I have a couch in my office in case I get tired."

Booth resisted the urge to push the issue and merely nodded in chagrined acceptance. She smiles at his surrender, touched that he let her have her way in the matter. Brennan stood, leaned over to kiss his cheek, and left the bar with a breathy, "See you." Booth swallowed thickly and automatically touched his fingers lightly to the place her lips had touched him. He ignored Sid's smug expression and ordered another drink.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

What had possessed her to do that?

Brennan was puzzled at her own behavior as she strolled through the sliding glass doors, gave a silent nod to the security guard, and moved toward her office. She did actually have work she could do, but her thoughts were suddenly full of Booth, and she found herself too distracted to work effectively.

She was tired, she conceded to herself. But the thought of going home made her nervous. It was well past dark now, and the memory of Peter watching her in the parking garage sent a tremor down her spine. She hadn't told Booth about the encounter or the fact that she was pretty sure Peter had broken in again. Brennan knew it was petty, but she felt like talking to him about Peter again would be akin to admitting that she was afraid of the man. And she wasn't, not really. She knew that she could defend herself, but the fact remained that Peter had gotten the jump on her not once, but twice in the time she had known him. It was unlike her to be taken by surprise in a physical altercation, and she was irritated with herself over it.

Brennan elected to sleep on the couch in her office that night, reasoning to herself that she'd had a drink with dinner and should be at her best in case there was a confrontation of some sort. She was sure that she was just being silly, and she was even more sure that if she called Booth and discussed her concern he'd be inviting himself over for another slumber party.

Brennan allowed her mind to play on that particular scenario as she drifted to sleep with an involuntary smile on her face…

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

One morning a few days later found Booth, Brennan, and Zack trekking through a wooded area on the grounds of the Hanover Preparatory School. Booth had been in a foul mood on the drive, primarily because he'd been looking forward to spending the 45-minute drive alone with Brennan, but somehow Zack had ended up tagging along. He resented the intrusion, especially since the kid seemed incapable of keeping his conversation to appropriate topics. Meaning-topics that didn't make Booth want to shoot him.

What he really wanted was the freedom to observe Brennan without the kid noticing. For one thing, she was wearing another one of those shirts today, and he was having a lot of difficulty resisting the urge to watch as her breasts bounced a bit with her movements. His mouth had watered so many times that more than once, Booth had surreptitiously checked it for leaks.

He had also noticed that she seemed to be slightly out of sorts as well. He'd wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he had known that she wouldn't say anything personal around Zack. So he had resigned to endure the trip with as much grace as possible.

Ironically, Brennan had spent most of the drive trying to figure out what was bothering him. It was a welcome distraction from her own troubled thoughts. She had seen Peter again as she'd left for work that morning, this time parked across the street from her apartment building, and still watching her intently. It perturbed her that she couldn't understand the motivations behind his behavior. If she could figure that out, then it would be easier to predict his next behavior pattern. But it simply eluded her. If Peter was going to harm her, wouldn't he have done it already? He had broken into her home twice, so what was stopping him from doing it while she was there if he really wanted to talk to her?

Perhaps he has tried, she thought grimly. She hadn't allowed herself to sleep at the lab again since the night they had stopped Farid Masruk from detonating his bomb. But each night, she had verified that she was alone in her apartment as soon as she got home, and then she had wedged a doorstop behind the closed door. She had tested it, and even pulling with all of her strength, she was unable to open the door with the tool in place. It was the only way she had been able to sleep at all. She hadn't heard any attempts to push the door open, but she supposed it was possible that Peter might have tried while she was in the deeper stages of sleep…

She still hadn't told Booth, and she knew that he would be angry at her for that, if he ever did find out what was going on. But she simply couldn't bring herself to admit her weakness to him. He needed a strong partner, and that was what she was going to be.

Arriving finally at the crime scene, Brennan gazed upward at the decomposed corpse that hung from a large tree.

"Video first," she instructed Zack. "I don't want your flash disturbing the crows."

A voice behind her commented snidely, "Yeah that would be a shame. Disturb the flesh-eating birds."

Booth looked in annoyance at the man as well as the other bystanders who had gathered to observe. "You want to increase the perimeter here? Gentlemen, give my forensic anthropologist some room."

"Your forensic anthropologist?" Brennan asked in amusement. She tried to ignore the satisfaction his words had given her.

Booth shrugged roguishly and continued to discuss the incident with the local sheriff and the head of security at the prep school while Brennan and Zack catalogued the scene. As she studied the corpse from the ground, she saw the head begin to separate from the body. She caught the head easily and looked to Booth.

"We're going to need an evidence bag," she told him.

"Heads up!" Booth warned, as the rest of the body crashed to the ground.

"We're going to need a bigger bag," Brennan replied dryly.

The onlookers blanched in disgust, and although Booth was no less sickened by all of it, he couldn't help but feel a touch of pride at Brennan's unruffled demeanor. This was an ugly job, and he'd never known anyone who could handle it like she could.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

They solved the case with almost dizzying speed. Their victim, Nestor Olivos, had been murdered by his roommate and the girl he loved. It was a mess of sex, lies, and blackmail, and both Brennan and Booth were extremely glad it was over. They had argued several times throughout the case, and both of them were feeling slightly guilty over things they had said.

The day after they closed the case, Booth suggested that they do the final paperwork together at his place. He ordered some takeout, and they sat conversing pleasantly and fighting over cartons of chinese food for several hours. Every so often, their hands would touch as he passed her a document that needed her signature, or she handed him lab reports for the file. Each time, there was almost a tangible spark that arced between them, and it was getting difficult to keep avoiding eye contact.

"I should probably get going," Brennan said a bit reluctantly. "I have an early meeting tomorrow morning."

Booth was disappointed too, but didn't argue. "Ok. Thanks for helping with the paperwork. It feels like it went faster than usual." He gave her a warm smile and helped her gather her things.

"You're welcome. It does seem logical to complete the paperwork formalities together, so that we can make sure the information corroborates appropriately." She returned a shy smile of her own before moving toward his front door.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow?" Booth asked in a hopeful tone. He cringed a bit, praying she hadn't heard it.

She had. "Sure. Maybe… maybe we can have lunch? If you're not busy, of course." What was she doing? That sounded like she was asking him out, Brennan thought in embarrassment.

"That sounds great!" And his lips were curved in a smile that was just for her. She'd never seen him look at anyone else like that.

"Ok," she grinned back. "See you."

After the door clicked shut, Booth leaned his forehead against it and told himself not to get too excited. It was just lunch. But it was her idea, he thought happily. And with that, he flipped off the lights and got ready for bed.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

Brennan was feeling similarly giddy as she drove home. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to ask him to lunch, but the heart-stopping smile he had given her as he accepted the invitation was imprinted on her mind like a tattoo. She smiled to herself in the darkness as she pulled into her parking garage.

She found herself checking automatically for signs of Peter. His persistence was unnerving, and she had felt herself beginning to pay more attention to the people around her than she used to. Tonight, however, he seemed to have found something better to do.

Scratch that, she thought grimly, as her eyes fell upon his vehicle parked several spaces down the next row. If she hadn't been looking for him, she probably wouldn't have noticed him at all. As had become his habit, he didn't move to leave his car or call out to her. He merely watched. She wondered fretfully if he had broken into her apartment again as well. The new security camera on her floor had been up and running for about a week now, and the security staff had assured her that they would notify her immediately if Peter attempted to break in again.

She repressed a shudder and took the elevator to her apartment. She suddenly felt drained, and she missed the capricious energy she'd had just a few minutes earlier. Her lock didn't seem to have been tampered with, she noted as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. Again, she checked each room, and again, they were clear of any threat.

As she readied herself for bed, Brennan mentally bounced back and forth between happy thoughts about Booth and concern that she was growing too attached to him. Her track record with men wasn't exactly a positive one, and she knew all too well that the level of affection she permitted herself to feel for another person was directly congruent with their capacity to hurt her. She was being ridiculous, she knew that. Their partnership was certainly worth more than whatever temporary satisfaction they would gain from having sex. Brennan shook herself inwardly and frowned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The last thing she should be thinking about right now, or ever, was sex with Seeley Booth. Their lunch tomorrow needed to be just that: lunch. Innocent. Something partners do.

She slept fitfully that night, waking herself from a nightmare more than once. But each time she rolled over and tried to fall asleep again, she found herself remembering the comforting feel of Booth's arms around her. She wondered wistfully if she would ever be lucky enough to feel them again.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

Brennan was awake at sunrise the next morning. Or rather, after her last nightmare several hours before dawn, she had simply stopped trying to sleep. There had been much that her conscious mind had been determined to ignore lately, and it seemed that her subconscious mind was taking the opportunity of her sleep to throw it all right back in her face. Rationally, she knew it didn't happen quite like that, but it was the nearest she would willingly come to psycho-analyzing herself.

As usual when she needed a distraction, Brennan opted to work. She answered a few emails, primarily from colleagues wanting her professional assistance in one way or another, but there was also one from her publicist, insisting she make time for a television interview. She groaned as she read the woman's message. Even in her written words, she came across as bubbly and exhausting. Brennan didn't reply to the request but closed her laptop and decided to get ready for the day.

She chose her wardrobe more carefully than she felt like admitting, with her mind on her lunch date with Booth. Ugh, not a date. Just lunch, she chided herself. She opted for a low cut top that was more crimson than burgundy, a flowy black skirt, and a belt to accent her hips. She rarely wore skirts, especially since she had started working with Booth again. They weren't exactly appropriate crime scene attire. But it felt right today, so she compensated for her frivolity by tossing a pair of dark jeans into her bag.

She was nearly ready when a knock sounded at the front door. Puzzled as to who would be at her door first thing in the morning, she approached it a bit hesitantly, her mind running through the possibilities. Any deliveries would be taken by security downstairs. She didn't know many of her neighbors well enough to think it might be one of them. And if it was Peter, she doubted he'd knock after having proven that a locked door was no obstacle.

She didn't have a peephole, and she thought answering the door with her gun in her hand was probably a bit extreme. She settled for the baseball bat instead and inched the door open. Relief and amusement at herself flooded her, and she opened door fully.

It was Booth. Holding coffee.

"Mornin' Bones!"

She let the name slide and instead asked, "Did we agree to coffee last night? I thought we said lunch…"

"We did, but I was getting coffee from my favorite place this morning, and it's not far from here, so… here I am." His smile was infectious. "Gonna let me in?"

"Of course, sorry," she said distractedly. He was looking very good this morning. And he certainly appeared to have slept better than she had. She moved aside to let him in, then closed the door behind him. He caught sight of her putting the bat back into place near the front door and scowled.

"Expecting trouble?" Booth asked with wary concern.

"No, I just couldn't figure out who would be knocking at this hour." She smiled, hoping to reassure him.

"Hmm. Well I did notice that you don't have a peephole, Bones. You should ask your super to put one in. Or I can do it, if you want," he offered.

"I'll think about it." His comment about consulting her super had reminded her of something else. "By the way, speaking to the security staff here was really unnecessary. I ended up doing so myself." Her expression was somewhat scolding, but Booth didn't regret his actions in the slightest.

"Uh huh. And when did you get around to doing that?" Booth asked knowingly. Brennan didn't reply but opted to roll her eyes playfully and turn back toward the bedroom. Telling him when she'd talked to security would probably make him realize that there had been a separate incident that prompted her to do it at all. She didn't feel like having that particular conversation this morning.

"I'll be out in just a minute, I'm almost ready," she told him, and she disappeared back down the hallway.

Booth watched as she retreated and pulled in a heavy breath. He did, actually, have a bit of an ulterior motive for showing up with coffee. For one, he really hadn't wanted to wait until lunch to see her, and the beautiful expression of surprise when she had opened the door was very gratifying. When he got a glimpse of her wardrobe choices this morning, he felt even more pleased that he'd listened to his instinct see her sooner rather than later. Her clothing hugged her curves deliciously, and seeing her in a skirt reminded him of the day they'd met. She'd been wearing a skirt then as well, but what he had really noticed first were her eyes. It had been difficult to pay attention to what she was saying for many reasons, the least of which perhaps was her clothing. Her eyes, her voice, her smile...they had captivated him that day. Today was no different.

He shifted uncomfortably, feeling his body respond to his wayward thoughts. As he tried to get himself under control, she emerged from the bedroom again, fastening her earrings beneath her soft hair. She had added another of her large necklaces, but it moved around enough that it did very little to hide the cleft between her breasts.

She crossed the living room and started to pull on her boots. Booth's mouth went dry as he watched her zip them. She seemed to be talking, but his brain wasn't processing things properly.

"Booth?"

"Sorry, what?" He snapped out of his Bones-induced stupor to see her looking at him curiously.

"I asked if we are still on for lunch or if coffee was your way of canceling tactfully."

"No! Of course not."

"No you can't have lunch or no you're not canceling?" Brennan asked in amusement.

"No I'm not canceling on you. I just thought you should try the coffee from this place," he said, finally handing her the to-go cup. She sipped it experimentally and smiled at him. Not only was it very good coffee but it was made the way she liked it.

"It is very good, thank you."

As they left her apartment and headed to his SUV, she asked, "How did you know how I like my coffee?"

Booth shrugged and grinned at her cheerfully. "I pay attention, Bones. I'm not a Special Agent for nothing, you know."

She rolled his eyes at him and sipped her coffee again, surveying him discreetly. He never wore a seatbelt, she noted. Brennan knew that it was a common habit among veterans, but it bothered her nonetheless. She didn't want to think of something happening to him. She nearly opened her mouth to chastise him for it but decided that perhaps now wasn't the time. They were having a good morning, and she didn't want to irritate him. The tension of their most recent case was still in the back of her mind, and while she enjoyed their good-natured bickering, there were some comments that had bordered on hurtful. She had no desire to dampen their current mood.

Booth noticed her scrutiny and squirmed a bit. He was pleased that she seemed to enjoy looking at him as much as he enjoyed ogling her, but he also worried that she might notice his arousal. Leaving her apartment for the fresh air of a beautiful morning had done little to distract him from her. If anything, he felt energized. And the heat of her gaze only amplified his arousal further.

It wasn't until they had arrived at the lab that he remembered the other reason he had surprised her with coffee this morning. He'd been trying to butter her up. Booth had been handed an out-of-state case this morning which required her special kind of expertise, and he'd had a feeling Brennan wouldn't be too excited about having to leave town on such short notice.

As they waited for the elevator, he decided to take his chances.

"Hey Bones, I just remembered… I was asked to have you take a look at this," he said, handing her the file. They entered the elevator, and she pulled out an enlarged photograph. It was a decomposed hand.

"Looks human to me…"

She studied it while walking through the lab toward her office, and he followed close behind. Perhaps a little too close. Because she paused unexpectedly in the doorway to her office, and he walked right into the back of her. She turned and gave him a look that was both curious and flirtatious.

Brennan was 100% sure that she had just felt his hardness against her rear end, and it was all she could do to focus on the photo in her hands. If she were anywhere else, he were anyone else, she'd have turned around and pressed her body and lips against his that very instant. As it were, however…

"What's the deal?" He stared at her in disbelief. She couldn't really mean what he thought she meant… "With the hand," she added with a smirk.

"It was found in Eastern Washington state."

"Where?"

"Inside a bear."

"No, I mean… Inside a bear?" Brennan asked. The file had her genuine interest now.

"An autopsy revealed more bone fragments in the bear's stomach and intestine."

"An autopsy on a bear is called a necropsy," she answered smoothly, putting a few things on the coffee table.

"Yeah, it's pretty crucial we get that straight right off the bat," he replied jokingly. "Meanwhile, about the dead human being…"

"What do you need me for? The bear ate somebody."

"Twenty-six bone fragments in total, case got bumped to the Seattle field office, they bumped it to me. Check it out," he said, handing her a USB flash drive. She took it from him with a smug expression.

"Why'd they bump it to you?" Brennan asked, already knowing the answer.

"Bones, do you really care about the inner-workings of the FBI?"

"They bumped it to you because you work with me," she said with a sexy smile. He was powerless not to return it with one of his own.

"No, they hoped you could help ID the body."

"From a hand?" Brennan asked as she opened the file on her computer.

"Yeah, they have high expectations," he answered. She thought again of what she'd felt when he'd bumped into her and thought cheekily that she had high expectations as well.

"Definitely human… opposable thumb, probably male from the size… Uh oh."

"What?" He walked around her desk to get a better look and tried very hard not to look down her shirt.

"Kerf marks. Made from a cutting tool."

"Maybe when they cut open the bear?"

"No," she said, staring intently at the screen. "It's not a straight edge. Residual cross section stria." She pointed to the screen to indicate the markings in question.

"Just because you say it in that definitive tone doesn't mean that it means anything to me," he told her, gazing at the screen in veiled disgust.

"These marks were made from a saw. The hand was completely separated from the rest of the person when the bear at it."

"Somebody was dismembered… and fed to a bear."

"That's one possibility," she replied. She noted that he looked a little green.

"Whooo, k…. Um…. Thanks, Bones."

"Glad I could help." She handed the flash drive back to him.

"But, you're not done," he said with a forced smile and walked back around her desk.

"I'll check out the photographs and x-rays and see if I can confirm sex and age," she offered.

"Pack your bags, Bones. We're going to Washington state." The tension in his voice belied his smile. She looked up at him in disbelief at his announcement.

"I'm not going to Washington state."

"Again, just because you say it in that definitive tone doesn't mean it means anything to me." He smiled charmingly at her, tossing the flash drive in the air and catching it.

Her mouth fell open for a moment as she watched him, but then she squared her shoulders and left her office. He didn't follow this time. Wise man.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

She tracked Goodman down on the catwalk that overlooked the lab.

"Why is Booth the one who decides we go to Washington state? He gets the gun and the authority; he's the one that people like." She could hear the sulky quality in her voice but decided to ignore it.

"Firstly, he didn't decide that you go to Washington state, he made a request. I am the one who decides where you go or do not go."

"And secondly?"

"Secondly, it's time to live a little, Temperance. Connect with other people," Goodman encouraged.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Are you suggesting I take this opportunity to have sex with Booth on a field trip?" It certainly wasn't the first time that particular thought had crossed her mind.

"Good God, where is Dr. Freud when you need him?"

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"Which is precisely why I am sending you to the Great North Woods," Goodman told her exasperatedly. "Come on now, you've got partially digested, dismembered skeletal remains to examine. That should put a smile on your face..."

She groaned inwardly at the thought of spending so much time in close proximity to Booth. It wasn't going to make her efforts to ignore her attraction any easier. She stalked back to her office, and pursed her lips at the sight of Booth still sitting there. He smiled indulgently at her.

"All squared away?"

"I don't know what that means," she replied dryly.

"Nevermind. Flight leaves in…" he glanced at his watch, "three hours. I guess you need to go home and pack?" The smug expression on his face pushed her beyond her limit.

"Exactly when did you find out about this case, Booth? Couldn't you have told me about it this morning when you showed up unannounced at my apartment with what I am now sure was bribe coffee?"

He had the good grace to look abashed. "Look, I'm sorry. They sprung it on me early this morning, and I did mean to tell you before you left home, I just…" he trailed off, realizing that he couldn't exactly tell her the reason for his distraction. But apparently she didn't need an explanation.

Brennan sighed in resignation and shook her head. Booth took that to mean he was off the hook, mostly.

"Do you need a ride back home so you can get your things together?" Booth offered.

"No, I'll take a cab," she replied stubbornly. He wanted to argue but wisely held his tongue.

"Okay, well… Here's the flight information. I'll meet you at the gate?" He handed her an envelope containing an itinerary and airline ticket.

"Okay," she nodded. And he smiled once more in her direction before he left. She let him walk out of sight before she allowed herself a smile in return.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

The flight had been long, though she supposed it could have been much worse. They'd only had one layover and it hadn't been a long one. By the time they had picked up the rental car and headed toward the small town of Aurora, Washington, Brennan was feeling every minute of her sleepless night. Booth noticed and tried to sympathize.

"You know, being cooped up in a crappy hotel in the middle of nowhere, with a fifty dollar per diem is not my idea of a good time either, you know," he told her, looking over from the driver's seat.

"You only get fifty dollars per day?" She returned his gaze. "How can you live on that?"

"Okay, what do you mean… What do you get?"

"I don't have a limit, just give them the receipts," she replied tiredly. Booth fiddled with his sunglasses before answering.

"Now, you have to have a limit, everyone has a limit. We work for the government."

"Yeah… I don't have a limit."

"But it's not fair," he said with a hint of petulance. "It's not fair to the tax payers… you're like one of those thousand dollar toilet seats."

"I imagine I am treated differently than you because I have an indispensible skill," she reasoned.

"Indispensable," he muttered. "I do not need you." But the smile on his face contradicted the tone of his words.

"Oh, so you can determine the origin of the kerf marks as well as the sex and age of the victim?" Brennan asked him dubiously.

Booth chuckled, not willing to concede defeat. "You know… you're a smart ass, you know that?"

She looked away from him and said in her smooth voice, "Objectively I'd say I'm very smart, though it has nothing to do with my ass."

His mouth went a bit dry, and he struggled not to remember how the ass in question had felt against him when he'd collided into her that morning.

"You know what? I'll tell you what… you can take me out to dinner. Put me on your tab."

"That doesn't seem ethical," she replied, meeting his eyes forwardly.

"You still want that gun now don't you? Hm?" Booth bargained.

She looked at him thoughtfully. In reality, he hadn't had to offer anything. She was more than happy to have dinner with him. Breakfast and lunch too. But that wasn't the game.

"We'll start with breakfast," she said with a grin. He grinned back, contemplating the idea of eating breakfast together under very different circumstances, but he pushed those thoughts away before they showed on his face. He looked back at the road and continued to smile. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so horrible after all.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

This trip sucks, Booth thought. They had made it into town in time to catch the sheriff before the end of the work day, and the irritating man hadn't wasted ten minutes before asking his partner to dinner. Booth hoped that making a show of touching her back as they walked out of his office made it clear to the man that his Bones was off limits. He told himself that his reaction was simply because things should be kept professional while they were on a case. She seemed to agree with that line of thought. When Angela had brought up the 'hot overnight guy,' Booth had very nearly choked on his own tongue. He had calmed a bit, hearing Brennan admonish her that they were trying to work.

But now here was, in the middle of a noisy bar, watching in disgust as not only the 'hot overnight guy' but also the coroner took turns spinning her around the room. When the sheriff cut in to take his turn as well, Booth decided he'd had enough. He approached the dance floor and caught her on the end of a spin, taking her skillfully into his arms and holding her closer than any of the others had dared.

"Thought you might need a break," he told her, working very hard not to focus on the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest.

"What happened to your shirt?" Brennan asked, staring at the opened collar and the inches of skin it revealed. He wore a St. Christopher medal around his neck, and she wondered at the story behind it.

"Well, we're in a bar, it's a look."

"Everybody is pumping me," she told him.

"Sorry?"

"For information on the case," she explained.

"Bones, they're only pretending to be interested in the case." He refrained from rolling his eyes. Barely.

"Why?"

"They're hitting on you?" His statement came out sounding like a question, and he read the uncertainty in her eyes. Could she really be that oblivious?

"Are you sure?" Brennan asked with a little laugh. She thought back quickly over her experiences in town. Only the sheriff's invitation to dinner had been even slightly circumspect.

"Yes, I'm sure," he told her with a grin. She really was adorable sometimes. "You're the hottest thing this town has seen in a long time… Check out the competition," he said, dipping her. Denise, the same woman who had discovered the dismembered hand, was watching them from the bar with an odd expression. "Now that is somebody who wants to eat your heart."

"You think she's the cannibal?" Brennan whispered conspiratorially.

"What? I don't know…" Booth was suddenly thrown off.

"You said she wanted to eat my heart, so you think she's the cannibal?"

"Oh," Booth chuckled, understanding now. "No, Bones it's just an expression. It means that she's jealous of all of the male attention you're getting because she's used to getting it herself."

"Ahhh… I see," Brennan gazed up at him brightly. "Well, I didn't realize anyone else was showing interest, but if you're right, then her behavior makes sense. Anthropologically speaking, it's a natural response to someone perceived as competition for a possible mate."

"Uh, right…" He felt nervous again, hoping she wouldn't notice that he'd just displayed that exact behavior while watching three other men put their hands on her.

Brennan fell silent then, content to simply enjoy the feel of his body against hers. His scent enveloped her, and it reminded her strongly of the night he had stayed with her after taking her to the hospital. Even stronger was the memory of waking up in his arms. They felt just as good around her now, and she relished the sensation of his muscled chest moving rhythmically to the music.

All too soon, the song had ended, and she looked at him a bit awkwardly. She wanted to dance more, but she could feel her will power slipping. The magnetism between them made it almost painful not to tilt her head and let their lips connect finally. But this was neither the time, nor the place.

Booth's thoughts ran in similar circles. He wanted her, and he knew that she knew it. But it wasn't the right moment. He was there to solve a murder, not put the moves on his partner. With a sigh, he resigned himself to a cold shower in his hotel room as well as a good half hour in the confessional when he got back home.

"It's getting late, Bones. We're supposed to meet up with the sheriff again tomorrow, try to track down the park ranger." His eyes were gentle, and she felt the magnetic pull of them just a little stronger than before. She forced her gaze away before he read too much in it. He was irritatingly good at that.

"Right. Well, we should get some rest then," she said, turning toward the door. He followed her out, looking back just once at her 'suitors' still lined up against the bar. He didn't even bother restraining the gloating sneer that crossed his features. Booth placed his hand softly on the small of her back and walked with her to the car.

She realized what it probably looked like to everyone else in the bar. So did he. But neither of them particularly cared in that instant. The ride back to the hotel was silent but charged, both of them thinking that this stalemate couldn't possibly last forever.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

"You know, Bones, the last time you found a murderer trying to destroy evidence, you shot him. This time you just knocked him out with a bedpan," he told her approvingly. "Thanks for that, because I have to explain every shot fired from any of my guns to the Bureau. The paperwork is a bitch."

"You're welcome," she said vaguely as she studied their travel itinerary. "Booth, our gate is this way." She indicated in the direction opposite his stride. He turned around promptly.

"Right, sorry."

Once they had boarded and were finally in the air, Brennan reclined her seat slightly and dug in her bag for chewing gum to relieve the pressure in her ears. She offered him a piece silently, and he thanked her. Within twenty minutes, her eyes had closed, and Booth was thankful. She had looked exhausted even before they'd left DC. He had refrained from commenting on it, knowing from experience that women didn't generally appreciate being told they looked tired.

She spent the flight sleeping, and he spent it watching her. Not in a creepy way, he assured himself. He just couldn't help it. Booth spent a lot of time looking at her these days, as often as he could manage without drawing her attention-or anyone else's for that matter. He was fairly certain that he'd been caught by Brennan more than once. And he knew he'd been caught by Angela a couple of times. Her knowing little grins seemed to taunt him any time she saw him even talking to Brennan. He could only imagine what Angela was saying to her privately.

Brennan sighed deeply in her sleep then, drawing his thoughts back to her completely. God, she's beautiful, he thought happily. The word didn't quite seem to do her justice, and he passed a few moments trying to think of a better one. He was reminded again of watching her sleep the night he had stayed with her. She had been breath-taking then as well. Hmm, good word.

As he studied her delicate features, he found himself imagining what being with her would be like. Not only in a sexual way, but in an intimate way. To share her mornings, her nights, her weekends. To hold her every night as she slept, to chase her nightmares away. To wake up next to her every morning then work next to her every day. The idea of it was compelling, intoxicating.

His own eyes drift shut without his permission, and his musings became dreams…

"Booth?" He heard her voice, but it was far away. "Booth!" Brennan shouted, and he jerked awake.

"What?" Booth asked, rubbing his eyes.

"You said my name," she told him. "Well, actually you said your ridiculous nickname for me rather than my actual name."

"Oh," Booth said in an apologetic tone.

"Were you dreaming?"

He most certainly did not want to tell her about his dream. "I don't know. I guess. I don't remember now." He still looked disoriented, and Brennan let it pass.

"Hmm. Well, you may as well wake up. We'll be landing shortly."

She had barely finished her sentence when a flight attendant instructed everyone to fasten their seatbelts for their descent. Once on the ground, they slung their carry-ons over their shoulders and headed toward the exit.

"Did you drive here the other day?" Booth asked her as they left the terminal.

"No, I took a cab."

"I'll drive you home then. It's dark." His tone brooked no refusal, although he hadn't intended it to be a command.

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse the offer, but she really wasn't ready to part ways yet, and the idea of waiting for a cab was unappealing. She nodded in acceptance and followed him to his vehicle.

He pulled the SUV into her parking garage a short time later and got out of the car to walk her as far as the elevator. His hand instinctively went to the small of her back, and Brennan pressed the call button before turning to tell him goodnight.

Her attention was caught by a car parked not far from them, however, and she stiffened. Booth noticed immediately and followed her gaze with narrowed eyes. It took him a split second to realize that not only were they being watched but that the observer was Peter. And he looked furious.

Peter's anger was nothing to Booth's, however. He stalked angrily toward the car, his hand reaching for the gun in his holster, but Peter quickly threw the car into gear and pulled out of the space. He was gone before Booth could close enough to do more than confirm his identity for sure.

Booth turned back to Brennan to see her wearing a disturbed and nervous expression, and his gut told him that this wasn't the first time she'd spotted Peter since the incident when he gave her a concussion. Brennan read the fury in his eyes as he walked back to her and pursed her lips in resignation.

"He's been back here before?" Booth asked heatedly, his anger barely contained. She nodded mutely. "How many times, Bones? Why didn't you tell me? Or call the cops? Have you seen him anywhere else? Did you get your locks changed?"

Brennan bristled at his tone and replied, "If you actually want an answer to any of those questions, you're going to need to let me speak."

He glared at her. "How many times?"

"A few. Usually in the garage, once or twice on the street outside."

"How often?"

"Often enough that I spoke to security about it. I told you that."

Her words made him angrier still. "But you left out the key element, didn't you, Bones? Why didn't you tell me this creep has been watching you for weeks?" He dared her to deny the timeline he was suggesting and fumed a bit more when she didn't.

"Because he hasn't harmed me or even attempted to come near me in all that time. And I haven't noticed him anywhere else. You're overreact-"

"Stop. You're a genius. Maybe not when it comes to reading people, but you're smart enough to know when a person is dangerous, right?"

"Yes!" Brennan's temper had spiked now too.

"Then you'll understand why I'm not leaving you alone. Let's go," he spat, gesturing toward the elevator. His eyes took one last sweep around the garage before the elevator doors closed. When they came to stop in front of her door, he examined the locks carefully.

"These have been tampered with, Bones."

"I know," she said, agitated. He looked at her in angry shock again, but she didn't say anything else. He waited until they were inside and he had thoroughly checked the rooms and windows before rounding on her.

"What do you mean you know? He broke in again?"

Brennan nodded. There was no use in holding back the details now.

"When? More than once? Was anything taken or moved or left here?"

She sighed in irritation again and gave him a level stare, waiting for him to stop talking so that she could answer. He did.

"Not long after you threatened him. I don't know if there have been any other times. And so far as I could tell, nothing has been out of place or been left here. I check each room every time I come home," she defended. It bothered her that he still thought her so incompetent. "I check the windows and closets, and I've even started sleeping with a doorstop under the locked door. Stop treating me like I don't know how to defend myself."

"I know that, Bones. But this guy is dangerous. I can smell it on him a mile away."

"That's ridiculous, you can't possibly sm-"

"Stop it, Bones, you know what I meant." Booth ran a hand through his hair and pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed quickly and waited for an answer.

"Charlie, hey. It's Booth."

"Hey man, thought you were in Washington. The other one, I mean," Charlie answered with a chuckle.

"I was, we just got back. Listen, Charlie I need you to do me a favor. It's an emergency."

"Sure, boss. What's going on?"

"I need you to put out a BOLO on a Peter St. James. Caucasian. Age 35, approximately 6'1", 190 pounds, athletic build, dark hair and eyes, may or may not be wearing glasses. I've got a license plate number…"

Brennan listened as Booth rattled off the information to Agent Burns, thanked him, and ended the call.

"Right, so… I think I'll take the couch this time. I want to be closer to the door."

"What? There's no need for you to stay here," she argued.

"Look Bones, I'm really not going to argue about this. I'm not letting you out of my sight until that asshole is in custody."

She groaned in exasperation. "You're being needlessly overprotective, Booth. I keep a gun right next to my bed; I'm perfectly capable of using it to defend myself."

The idea that she she had a gun that could so easily be turned on her in a confrontation terrified him even more, and his adrenaline amped up yet again. He grabbed her by the upper arms and pushed his face closer to hers to make his point.

"The guy gave you a concussion the last time he got close to you, Bones. Have you forgotten that? This is the kind of guy who won't think twice about hurting you again because you're not giving him what he wants!"

Brennan could've thrown his hands off of her, but she didn't. Instead, she got in his face as well.

"I know exactly what kind of guy Peter is, Booth. It's not your job to protect-"

Before she could finish her sentence, he was kissing her. She held still in shock for a fraction of a second, but then she was kissing him back fiercely. His hands loosened from around her arms and moved in opposite directions. One gripped her waist possessively; the other buried itself in her hair and tipped her head backward. Her own hands slid slowly around his neck, and the kiss deepened. Their tongues met without reservation, and she gasped at the feel of him. Her heart accelerated out of control, and she felt a tingling rush descend to her center.

The kiss seemed to stretch infinitely, and she moaned into his mouth in surrender. Eventually the need for oxygen could no longer be denied, and their lips broke apart finally. She was still leaning against him, her breath ragged, when she met his eyes. They were nearly black with unconcealed desire, and his breathing was labored as well. The charge between them was nearly palpable as they tried to get a better hold on their desires. Unsurprisingly, she was the first to break the silence.

"You know… Usually when you want to silence me, you simply change the subject."

Booth flushed in embarrassment but didn't miss the gleam in her eyes. He released her, and she pulled her arms down, but she didn't completely move away.

"In the future," she said in her sultry voice, "if you're ever faced with the dilemma again… I prefer this method."

His shock registered on his face and he swallowed convulsively. But before he could respond, she had stepped away from him toward the hallway.

"You should take the guest room. The couch is bad for your back," she said, not looking back at him. "Goodnight."

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

Thanks for reading! Reviews make me as giddy as Brennan at a Body Farm. ;)