Temperance walked grudgingly into her apartment and watched as Booth stirred from his sleeping position on the couch.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming back." He said as he sat up. Temperance nodded and then proceeded to lock the door as slow as humanly possible. She wasn't sure how to start a conversation and the whole situation felt rather awkward.

"Did you go to Hodgins'?" He asked as she placed her keys on the table. He didn't turn to look at her. Temperance once again nodded.

"Angela was there." She stated. When Booth didn't reply she continued.

"They told me about my father." Booth nodded. Temperance noticed he was acting strange and it worried her. No matter what she said, he hadn't made a comment. She walked around the couch so that she was facing him.

"If anyone should be mad it's me. You're the one who chose not to tell me about my father." She said, her voice slightly raised. Booth stood up.

"I was protecting you." He said irritably.

"From what?" She asked. "It's not like he's going to hurt me. He's my father." Booth sighed, and she could tell he was frustrated.

"You don't understand." He said quietly. "But it's fine, because I'm tired of trying to explain it." He said and then started to walk towards the door. Temperance moved quickly and planted her body directly in front of the door in an effort to prevent him from leaving.

"No." She said forcefully. "I want you to explain it. I want to know why you're the only one I can't remember." Booth backed away from the door.

"Don't you think I would've already told you if I knew?" He asked her angrily. Temperance looked away.

"Zach said—"

"I know what Zach said." Booth whispered. Temperance took a step forward.

"And he was right?" She asked. Booth shrugged.

"He usually is." He said his expression emotionless. Temperance's hand shook as she placed it lightly on Booth's arm.

"Then I care the most about you." She stated in her usual factual tone. Her hand grasped his as she closed the distance between them. It took all of his willpower to push her away, but he managed. He dropped her hand and took a step backwards.

"You're not yourself." He whispered and resumed his earlier walk towards the door. He turned around before reaching for the door knob.

"All you know is that if Zach is right, you care more about me than anyone else in your life." He said.

"But you can't remember why." He continued. "You don't know the first thing about me, and I know everything about you."

"I…" He trailed off for a moment, but then resumed in a whisper.

"I love you." He stated. "But not this you. I love who you were when you remembered me, and if I can't have that…I'm not sure I want anything at all."

"I have amnesia." Temperance protested angrily. "It's not like I can just suddenly remember you." Booth turned around.

"You want to know what I think?" He asked and continued without waiting for a response. "I don't think that amnesia has anything to do with the fact that you can't remember me."

"What?" Temperance asked. "Why?" Booth sighed and turned back around.

"Because maybe the truth is, you don't want to remember." He whispered and then walked out of the door. Temperance watched as he disappeared and the door closed with a slam. A picture on the table beside the couch fell and she walked over to pick it up. A male in his late twenties stared back at her. She dropped the photograph quickly as a flashback came to her.

The clock reads 11:30 and Temperance stands facing the door in her office. The Jeffersonian is in complete darkness, save for the faint light coming from the lamp on her desk. A slightly older version of the male from the photograph stands in front of her desk, staring directly at her silhouette. Temperance is clutching a folder tightly to her chest—it was as if her life depended on it. She notices that the man doesn't seem hostile. However, she recognizes a certain desperateness in his tone and expression.

"I'm sorry, Tempe." He says and she begins to turn around when she feels something hard come in contact with the back of her head. She hears something shatter and her eyelids involuntarily close. The last thing she remembers is the folder slipping silently from her grasp.

Temperance broke away from her reverie and looked down at the shattered frame that held the photograph of her attacker. She picked up the photograph and turned it over. It looked as if a letter had been written, but most of it was smudged and illegible. However, she was able to make out the last two lines. At the very bottom in familiar handwriting and blue ink was the inscription--

Love,

Russ


i'm sorry that the chapters are getting shorter & shorter. next chapter should be really long though.

i hope you enjoyed this one :)