AN: Well, this goes without saying but, I'm back! Thanks for sticking with me during my vacation and for all the reviews I got to come home to. You guys are just amazing! I hope this chapter was worth the wait. So, keep up those reviews and I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter and I'll have another one up before too long. The title of this chapter comes from the song of the same name by Tarkio/The Decemberists (an amazing band) and you guys should really check it out because it's an amazing song. So anyway...enjoy!

Tristan and Iseult

If Brennan had thought that dressing for the previous night's date had been difficult, it was nothing compared to what she was feeling currently. She had thought that if things went well and if she and Booth decided to pursue something based on how their first "date" went then she would become less and less anxious about how she looked and what she wore. But that didn't seem to be the case at the moment as she went through the same wardrobe she'd stressed over the night before, trying to find something that was casual but still sexy and appealing and would do for having dinner at her partner's house. It struck her as funny now that Booth, who saw her in her worst and never caused her to bat an eyelash, could now make her go through her empty closet, trying to find something that would hopefully help him remember that she wasn't just someone who crawled around muddy trenches for bones. It never entered her mind that Booth already saw her the way she suddenly desperately wanted him to.

She was trying to decide if she should wear a flowing white skirt over a pair of jeans when her cell phone buzzed on her dresser. She was a little behind schedule getting ready, so a part of her hoped it was Booth telling her not to bother hurrying; then she hoped it was Angela so her friend could offer over the phone wardrobe advice. But it was a number she didn't recognize. Identifying herself in as businesslike a manner as possible, Brennan answered.

"Dr. Brennan?" The voice was one she didn't instantly place either. "It's me." Brennan was silent. "Grayson. Grayson Smith." He sounded disappointed that she hadn't recognized him.

Instantly, Brennan felt like something was wrong. Or would be wrong soon. That nagging feeling was back again, like an alarm bell in the back of her mind. Unease. But she wasn't sure why. They'd all ready proven that Grayson Smith couldn't possibly be the one that had killed Cora, so why the alarm bells?

"Yes, Mr. Smith." Short, business-like, uninviting. "How did you get this number?" There went the pang of concern again, the inkling of fear.

There was a bit of laughter on the other end of the line. "Once I found out your name, Dr. Brennan, I just Googled you." Brennan frowned. It wasn't the first time the Internet had not been her friend.

Clearing her throat, Brennan looked over at the clock. "Mr. Smith, I would appreciate it if you didn't call me on my personal number again." Booth was never going to let her live it down if she was late.

There was another pause of silence, heavy and different than the first and, crazy as it was, Brennan could have sworn she felt a shift in the situation. "You told me…Dr. Brennan…you said to call you if…if I knew anything about Cora." Grayson's tone had changed, dangerous somehow, but she couldn't help but feel like he was dangerous in the way a puppy might be: it could still bite, but mostly just rolled around. "You told me…to call you."

Pursing her lips, Brennan put down the jeans and changed into her white skirt. "Do you have information about the case, Mr. Smith?" She questioned in spite of herself. They were at a complete dead-end now, anything might help them.

"Yes." Grayson sounded much happier now. "Yes! Yes I do. I'd like to meet you so we could discuss it."

Another glance at the clock. Booth was waiting for her…the idea warmed her. Someone was waiting for her. "Tomorrow, Mr. Smith, you could come by the FBI building. Agent Booth would be happy to take your statement-"

"Not Agent Booth!" Grayson shouted and Brennan blinked at the phone in surprise. "I want to talk just to you, Dr. Brennan. Tonight. To you. Could you meet me somewhere? The diner?"

Of all the places in the city, Brennan found it slightly unnerving that Grayson choose the diner, her favorite place to eat and unwind. Coincidence, of course, but still unnerving. "Mr. Smith…I have plans. A prior engagement." That sounded a little more professional. "I believe tomorrow would be a better time…"

But Grayson was not interested in her excuses. "Dr. Brennan, please, it's important." His voice sounded heavy with sincerity and anxiety. "It will only take a second. You can get back to your…engagement." He sounded jealous, though Brennan found that to be an irrational emotion.

Brennan looked at the clock again, thought of Booth. She thought about why she shouldn't go to see Grayson Smith, why it would be wiser to wait until tomorrow to see him, when they weren't alone. Her safety wasn't the only reason she wanted to delay until tomorrow; she was hardly concerned about protecting herself from someone like him. But there was her date with Booth... "Tomorrow, Mr. Smith, I'm free to discuss whatever you'd like." Brennan dug around her jewelry box for the appropriate earrings.

There was another heavy silence. "Tonight, Dr. Brennan, would be best." His voice was filled with something Brennan couldn't quite place, an emotion she didn't quite recognize, like someone threatening to jump off the edge of a cliff. "I would prefer tonight. Fifteen minutes. I can be at the diner in fifteen minutes and then we can talk. Just talk." He sounded hopeful, pleading now, different than before.

Brennan put on her earrings and looked at herself in the mirror. She thought the final effect was exactly what she'd hoped for, but would it be enough for Booth? She still couldn't get over the idea of her caring what Booth thought about her appearance, couldn't get over the fact that she actually wanted him to have a reaction to the way that she looked. "Mr. Smith, I can talk to Agent Booth about meeting with you at the diner, you can tell us what you know about Cora-"

Once more, Brennan found herself rudely interrupted. "No! No. Dr. Brennan…I told you…only you. I only want to speak with you." Grayson insisted fervently. Brennan remained silent, caught off guard and completely unsure of what to say. "I promise it will be worth your while, Dr. Brennan. I can help you with your case."

Again, Brennan found herself looking at the clock. She should have been at Booth's by now, he would no doubt be calling her soon to make sure she hadn't bailed. What was a few extra minutes? "Fifteen minutes, Mr. Smith." She heard herself saying before she'd even fully made up her mind on what to do. If he had information on the case, it was in her best interest to hear what he had to say. Booth would understand. "I'll meet you at the diner."

Grayson was still enthusiastically thanking her when Brennan disconnected the call. She dialed Booth's number and he answered on the second ring. "Running a little late, Bones?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "Not like you."

Grabbing her car keys, Brennan headed out the door. "I'm leaving now." She felt an unfamiliar surge of anticipation, excitement at the idea of seeing Booth, at being alone with him in a non-work related environment. "I've got to meet someone first." Booth started to protest but she interrupted his alpha-male barrage. "Grayson Smith called: he wants to meet with me to discuss information about Cora's murder."

There was a heavy beat of silence on the other end of the line. "Absolutely not." Booth's voice was firm, the tone of a man used to telling people what to do and expecting that they do it. Instantly, Brennan felt irrationally irritated, annoyed with Booth and his attitude and pleased with herself for deciding to go meet Grayson Smith after all. "Are you crazy, Bones? You can't go by yourself."

Brennan tried to think about what Angela would say, that Booth was only looking out for her and her safety because he cared about her (now she had an inkling of proof that that was the case) and that she should just take everything in stride and be inwardly pleased that Booth cared. But that didn't help very much because Brennan was quickly discovering that nerves and romance induced butterflies did not mix well with having someone insinuate that she couldn't take care of herself. Even if that someone was Booth. "Booth, please, don't you think that's unnecessary? You know that I can take care of myself and you even said there wasn't anything to worry about." She was on her way to the diner now, though she wouldn't have minded for Booth to talk her out of it. Even though she was more than equipped to take care of herself in most situations and felt very little threat from Grayson Smith, there was still a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, a buzz in the pit of her stomach that unsettled her.

"That's not the point, Bones." Booth was frustrated and Brennan knew it was because he knew that he wasn't going to be able to convince her not to go or do anything to stop her himself. She wondered if a little bit of it had to do with the fact that she was going to be a late for their dinner plans but figured that she'd save the girlish wonderings for later. "You don't know about this guy and you shouldn't go by yourself. And what could he possibly have to say about Cora that he didn't say before? I'll meet you there, just give me five minutes."

Again with the irritation. "Just because we're dating now, Booth, doesn't mean that you have the right to be my personal bodyguard and tell me what to do." Her words were greeted with silence and it never occurred to Brennan that Booth was focusing on anything more than her persnickety demeanor. "I can take care of myself. And I'll still be at your place for dinner, just a little later then planned."

Booth was still fumbling with an excuse, his frustration growing more apparent by the second when Brennan hung up, figuring that it would be better just to meet with Grayson and argue with Booth about it to his face. Angela had certainly been right about one thing: they had great chemistry, even if they didn't always use it for good. And it wasn't such a horrible thing to know that there was someone out there who cared about her well being, who cared enough about her to worry that she might be walking into a dangerous situation or to take a bullet for her. Brennan couldn't help but let her mind wander, though she quickly but a stop to it. She wasn't one to get ahead of herself in any situation.

Grayson was already at the diner when Brennan arrived and he jumped to his feet when he saw her, smiling like a smitten boy as he walked over to her and she instantly realized that she had made a mistake. Something about this wasn't right, she could see it in Grayson's eyes, could feel it in the back of her mind. She thought about what Sweets had said about Grayson's flimsy hold on reality and couldn't help but think of Pam Nunan…Sweets had said the same about her and look where that had gotten them.

"Thank you for meeting me, Dr. Brennan." Grayson was smiling broadly, gesturing for her to follow him back to his table. Brennan remained where she was and he took her hand to get her moving. Quickly, Brennan pulled her hand free and Grayson looked at her, confused and hurt. "What's wrong, Dr. Brennan?" His brow knitted briefly, then he laughed with a smile. "I think we're past the bashful stage."

Ignoring him, Brennan pursed her lips. "Mr. Smith, you said you wanted to talk to me about the case…about Cora…" She reminded. She was still standing and getting looks from the servers and other patrons, though she ignored them as well.

"Please, call me Grayson….Temperance." He smiled. "Doctor is such a formal title, don't you think." Brennan gave no reply, not that he seemed to notice. "Not that you don't deserve the praise. All your accomplishments…my parents can't believe I found a woman like you." He took a step toward her.

Brennan put up a hand to stop him from getting too close. "Mr. Smith, I find this situation very inappropriate. There is nothing going on between us. I only came because I thought there was something about the case, about Cora Corman's murderer that you wanted to discuss."

Frowning, Grayson pursed his lips. "It's because you're dating Agent Booth, isn't it?" He sounded betrayed and increasingly angry, getting more looks. "Because of Agent Booth, right? Does he know what a special woman you are?" He took another step forward.

"My personal life is hardly relevant and is none of your business." Brennan informed him sharply. "Don't contact me again, Mr. Smith." He frowned but she ignored him, turning toward the diner. She paused and turned again. "And don't come near Agent Booth." Briefly, she was surprised by how threatening those few words sounded but then she thought of Pam Nunan and couldn't bear to be the reason Booth was in danger yet again.

Before Grayson could get another word out, Brennan was out the door, not bothering to look behind her.


Booth was waiting for her when Brennan finally arrived at his apartment. Though he was trying hard to appear casual, she could tell that was exactly what he'd been doing: waiting. For a moment after he opened the door, they stared at one another, as though unsure of what to say or do, how to act. Booth normally wouldn't have hesitated in chewing her out for doing something stupid but now he couldn't seem to decide if his relief over her still being in one piece (not that he had ever truly doubted her safety or her ability to handle the situation) was more important than his frustration with her. And the fact that she was just staring at him with those eyes of hers wasn't helping matters either. Finally, Booth just shook his head, turning away from the door and heading into the kitchen so Brennan was no longer standing in the foyer.

Brennan shut the door but remained where she was, watching Booth as he moved needlessly around the kitchen, taking out bowls and plates and cups and moving them around for something to do. Finally he looked over at her and she saw the old Booth in his eyes, the one who could never seem to figure out just what to make of her, just what to do with her, frustration mingled with affection. "I wish you wouldn't do stupid stuff like that, Bones." He remarked with another shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

"You never cared before." Brennan pointed out. Why did she always feel like she was hitting a wall, a wall that she'd put up all by herself? There were things she wanted to do, things she wanted to say and accept that she wouldn't let herself because of that wall standing in the way. Why would it be so hard just to tell Booth that he was right, that she shouldn't have gone to see Grayson Smith and to accept the fact that he cared about her, that it was all right to let someone care about her? Instead she was standing in his living room, getting ready to fight with him all over again.

"That's not true, Bones." Booth wished there wasn't so much space between them. "I've always cared." Brennan wished that she could take the plunge that Booth was, wished that she could let herself open up, to say and admit things like that but there was that wall in the way. "I just thought maybe…you'd listen this time."

Leaving her post in the living room, Brennan joined him in the kitchen. "It wasn't a dangerous situation, Booth." But why had she felt unnerved? "And he didn't have any information about Cora Corman's murder."

Booth looked at her triumphantly. "See, Sweets was right, that guy is unbalanced and fixated on you. You shouldn't have gone." He turned back toward the large amount of dishes he'd pulled out, trying to figure out which ones they actually needed. "You shouldn't see him again alone either." He braced himself for whatever argument that she was about to make. Booth figured he should have known better, he'd known Brennan long enough: she hated being told what to do, hated to feel like anyone was controlling what she did. She was almost like a child in that aspect and had been known to do something just because she had been advised against it.

"Fine." Booth looked at her in surprise and Brennan shrugged. "Clearly he has nothing useful or relevant to say, so the only logical thing to do would be to ignore him." Booth nodded and Brennan could tell that he was pleased. "Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?" She noticed for the first time that the kitchen was devoid of most food related smells.

"No, I've got everything taken care of." Booth held up a takeout bag from their favorite Thai restaurant. Brennan raised an eyebrow and couldn't help but smirk. "Turns out I can't cook after all." Booth smiled sheepishly and Brennan found that she couldn't ignore the way the gesture tugged at her. She kissed him, her hands on his shoulders, and it didn't take long for his hands to slip around her waist, pulling her just a bit closer. When they pulled away, Booth was still smiling but said nothing, though Brennan found that his eyes spoke volumes.

They carried the takeout to the table but decided to forego the plates in order to eat right out of the box, as they often did when they were kicking back in her office. For a few minutes, they ate in silence (Brennan had no idea how hungry she was) and Booth complimented her on her appearance (Brennan tried to disguise the blush in her cheeks) and then they lapsed back into a comfortable silence. Once again, it was Booth who spoke first. "So we're dating now." He questioned as casually as possible, thinking back to their phone conversation.

Looking over at him, Brennan shrugged. "Literally speaking, we are dating, going out to dinner…" She gestured toward their takeout spread with her chopsticks. "Seeing each other outside of work." She looked at him closely. "Why? Lots of people date."

"I know lots of people date, Bones." Booth rolled his eyes. "I was just curious."

"Why does it matter?"

Booth was silent for a moment, as though unsure of how to answer her question. Though Brennan would never realize it, he, too, was reluctant to open himself up, emotionally to her, hesitant to make himself vulnerable. It came as a bit of surprise, considering the fact that he'd been more than infatuated with her from their first meeting and the more time he spent with her, the more he got to know her, he came to realize that he never really had a choice when it came to falling in love with her. It was impossible not to know Temperance Brennan, the woman she was underneath all her jaded exterior and scientific jargon and not fall for her. This was what he'd wanted, yet he still wasn't entirely sure what was happening, or how they'd gone from being partners to sitting in his kitchen making eyes at each other over Thai takeout. He'd seen Brennan in relationships before and though he was determined not to hold them against her, Booth couldn't help but wonder if theirs would just be a repeat of her prior flings: a few months of intense passion and emotion and then nothing, a clean and emotionless detachment from her and then what for him? Was it worth it to let himself go to that point, to allow himself to openly fall in love with her? His feelings for her all ready ran too deep, though he was hoping that he wasn't alone in his emotions. Booth wanted to believe that what they had was more then just a fling and sometimes he was certain when he looked at Brennan and found her looking back.

Clearing his throat, Booth shrugged. "Because…it means there's potential. It means…" Another shrug. "Something might happen."

Brennan laid her hand over his and felt her heart jump when he looked at her. This man was her partner, she could trust him with her life and she wanted to force herself to understand that she could trust him with her heart as well. "What sort of something?" She raised an eyebrow and smiled, a casual sort of gesture that seemed to suggest that they were just two friends, commenting on any number of possible futures.

"I don't know." Booth felt like he was lying. "Now. Right now is fine." It felt like another lie and he wasn't sure why. He kissed her softly on the forehead, the nose, before moving to her lips.

As Brennan looked at him, felt the affection in his gestures and saw it clearly in his eyes, she thought that this was a man she could quite possibly love, maybe even for the rest of her life. If she didn't all ready. And that thought scared her, made her think of all the times she'd tried to love someone and they'd vanished from her life with an abruptness that had caused her to build the wall in the first place. And she couldn't help but think of Booth, lying dead in the OR, a turn of events that was her fault and felt the familiar icy grip of panic overtake her. If he had been willing to take a bullet for her when they were just partners, what would he do now that they were something more? Brennan knew with a numbing certainty that she couldn't loose him again without completely losing herself too.

"Bones?" Booth looked at her, his brow knitted with concern once more. He gently lifted her chin so that their eyes met once more. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

Brennan felt nothing but safety and security when she thought of Booth, when she locked eyes with his and she felt the icy pit in her stomach start to melt away. It hurt to admit that she needed him, more than she needed anyone else in her life but she could no longer deny that truth. She needed Booth, felt like they were too connected now and maybe they always had been, if she'd only let herself notice it before. She could spend her life thinking about things that might be, about what could happen; that was what she was good at, that was what she'd done all her life, preparing for a potential future, bracing for all possible outcomes. That was what she'd done before, thinking ahead to the consequences of a relationship that didn't work out and never allowing there to be one at all. And she was doing it now, preparing for the ramifications for their dangerous and life-threatening jobs, preparing to deny herself what made her happy now because of what might happen later. It was her defense mechanism, the way she lived her life. But what had it gotten her? It might not be easy, but Brennan knew that she needed to focus more on the here and now, to leave the analyzing and preparing out of her life and slowly, steadily, take down the wall that kept her from everyone else. And who better to help her with that task than Booth, the person who had saved her countless times in every possible way?

Smiling, Brennan rested her cheek against the palm of his hand. "I'm fine." She assured him. "Everything's fine."

She hoped that would be the truth.