A/N: I'm almost afraid to post this chapter after the wonderful reaction to the last one. I hope everyone enjoys it just as much.

On day eight, he wrote her a letter. In it he confessed everything. His regrets, his hopes and dreams for the two of them. How the two weeks in the safe house had felt to him. It consumed a good portion of his afternoon, time that should have been spent reviewing reports.

The same day, he also received a note from Sweets, informing Booth of his transfer to an office in Wyoming. Booth wondered at the timing, but gave it little thought. It was probably for the best.

On day nine, he tore up his note to Bones, knowing she wouldn't want sentimentality. She was all about facts and evidence, not feelings.

Day ten was rainy and long. He wanted lunch at the diner, but refused to go without Bones. After eating a bag of chips at his desk, he gave up trying to focus and went home.

Day eleven was a Saturday. Unfortunately, he spent it at work, completing the reports he should have spent the last three days doing. Bones usually helped him with these things. He needed a calculator for math she usually did in her head.

How long was it going to take her to be ready? That was the question. A week, a month, a year, a lifetime? How long should Booth wait before pushing the issue again? How long would Brennan avoid him, trying to rationalize what he'd done and the feelings it had brought to the surface?

It was hard to love her from a distance. To wonder if she was okay. She'd always talked to him about her feelings and concerns, but now that it was about him, she'd put up an impenetrable wall.

He came up with plans. He'd show her how much she meant to him by doing this and that. She'd call and he'd rush to her office, taking her to lunch, to dinner, dancing.

Romance. He'd convince of his feelings with romance and flowers. Of course, she'd probably think getting flowers were ridiculous. An environmental waste, or something like that. He didn't care.

As the days passed, he lost some of his hope. Bones was stubborn. How would he learn to live without her if she never found her way back to him?

He gave it another week. Another week of waiting for her to call. Of dealing with the heartsickness that came each time the phone rang and her voice wasn't at the other end of the line.

Cam called him several times with news about the case, but when he'd asked about Bones, her answers had been vague. He'd tried Angela, too, but her answers had been even less reassuring than Cam's.

It was when he was faced with another night of eating take-out alone that he picked the phone to dial her number. He was shocked when she answered, but before he could say a word, she said three that sent him right back where he'd started.

"Not yet, Booth."

When the click sounded in his ear, he'd tossed the phone across his apartment. Stomping to his bedroom, he yanked a drawer open hard enough to pull it from his dresser. T-shirts spilled to the floor.

"Not yet," he muttered, tossing shirts to the side to find the one he wanted. "Not yet. I'm starting to think this is never going to end."

Where was it? Where was his favorite shirt from the FBI? The grey one that Parker had given him last Christmas. It was always in this drawer. Where was it?

Resting on his heels, he surveyed the disaster around him. There were shirts all over, but not one of them was the shirt he wanted.

He was getting ready to go to the laundry to look for it, when it occurred to him where it might be. Bones had been in his apartment while he was gone. Perhaps, she took a little keepsake.

So what was he to do about it? She'd clearly told him she wasn't ready yet, but he was more than ready to be done with all of this. And the shirt gave him the perfect excuse to go over to her place and talk to her again.

Making the decision, he grabbed the first t-shirt he put his hands on. It wasn't the one he wanted, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure Bones had that one. Was probably wearing it right now.

He worked himself into a fine mood on the drive to her place. She had the nerve to blame him for this whole thing when it was clearly her fault. Excuse him for thinking she would be able to rationalize his death. She rationalized everything else, why would this time be any different?

Besides, he'd made sure she was on the list. How was it his fault the little boy psychologist had made such a foolish decision? She should be refusing to talk to him, not Booth.

And then she had the nerve to steal his favorite t-shirt? The one his son gave him for Christmas. Didn't she know what that shirt meant to him? And if she was so upset by his death, what the hell was she doing in his apartment? The Bones he knew and loved certainly didn't make it appear she felt the same way about him. He'd be devastated if something happened to her, but she'd obviously survived. Angela even said she'd gone to work.

Hell, he'd been in love with her for a long time, but had she noticed? Of course not! She as too busy looking at her old bones to actually pay attention to him. And he was a lot nicer looking.

Booth was on such a roll, he didn't realize the direction his thoughts had taken.

When she opened the door, Booth noticed immediately she was wearing the T-shirt he'd spent the last hour looking for. It was enough to send him over whatever edge he'd been standing on.

She opened her mouth to say something to him. He could see her lips starting to move. But before she got the chance, and before the logical side of his brain kicked back in, he invaded her space, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

All of his carefully plotted details were thrown to the side. There would be time for romance later. If she didn't kill him for this first.

He would either push the whole issue out in the open or send her running to the nearest deserted island.

Which was fine, too. He needed a vacation. And a deserted island meant they wouldn't be disturbed.

Small hands grabbed his shirt and he expected to be pushed away, but she pulled him closer. She tasted of some minty toothpaste that shouldn't have been sexy, but was.

Booth had enough sense left to back them into the wall, and kick the door closed behind them. After that there was nothing but heat.

His teeth nibbled, before his lips returned to plunder hers. He gave her no chance to think, to take a breath deep enough to stop him. He simply took. He took everything she had to give and demanded more.

The little sounds she was making in the back of her throat were driving him wild. He was reaching for the hem of her shirt, close to the moment when all sense was gone, when she shifted her hands to pushing, instead of pulling.

He drew back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers. "You stole my t-shirt," he said. The words came between shallow breaths. If she didn't ask him to stay, it would take more than one cold shower to make it through the evening.

With their heads pressed together, she couldn't look down at herself. Pretty sure he was right, her brain hadn't actually kicked back in yet, she shrugged. "I didn't figure you'd need it anymore."

She pushed a little harder against his chest and he took a step back. One step only. He rested his hands on the wall, one on each side of her head. She was effectively trapped. "Let me go, Booth."

He shook his head. "Not until we settle this, Bones." But he stepped back and leaned against the closed door. He noticed her face was flushed and took pride in the reaction she'd had to him.

She copied his stance. "I thought you were going to wait until I was ready."

It was his turn to shrug. "You stole my t-shirt. It made me angry. And the more I thought about what was going on between us, the angrier I got."

"So that was an angry kiss?" She wondered what his other kisses felt like.

One corner of his mouth lifted. "Among other things."

Brennan sighed. "So where does this leave us?"

"Where do you want it to leave us, Bones? If there is any question about how I feel about you at this point, I'd be happy to show you again."