A/N: Aww, decrease in reviews last chapter. :( But, that's okay. A lot more story alerts and favorites, so I know you all are still reading!

Did you think I had forgotten you, or this story? Nah- but do expect updates to be few and far in between. I'm taking a few college level classes, so between sports and homework, I have not had much time for our favorite crime-fighting duo. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one. This one's pretty light on the angst, but I can't say the same for the next chapter.

Late Night Therapy

39 years ago…

Brennan sat on her couch, her brow furrowed as she stared at the blank white screen of her laptop. The empty document seemed to mock her, as the cursor blinked at her in a taunting manner.

Their last case had been especially brutal, and she was exhausted. Ever since that night, when Booth had broken her heart by making her break his, her ability to compartmentalize had gone downhill. Everything made her tired, and sad.

Brennan sighed, and shut her laptop; thoroughly annoyed she had wasted nearly an hour and had accomplished nothing. It was becoming a routine for her. And although normally she liked routines… this one was driving her insane.

She crawled back onto the couch and sighed, tucking her knees up to her chin. What she was lacking, was some sort of inspiration. And until she found some, her publishers were going to be very, very unhappy with her.

A gentle rapping at her door jolted Brennan from her insecure position, as she rose from her couch and smoothed out her blouse, before glancing at the clock. No one should be visiting this late. Except… Her heart suddenly fluttered a bit, for some reason beyond her understanding, but she brushed it off and eased the door open anyway.

"Booth?" she said, trying to sound surprised as she brushed a stubborn lock of hair behind her ear. "What are you doing here?"

He peeked around at her from behind the mountain of food cartons he was carrying, and shot her a cheeky grin. "You really can't tell?"

Brennan smiled a little, before clearing her throat and moving aside to accommodate him.

"I was just in the neighborhood, y'know… passed Wong Foo's, and thought of you. I knew you probably hadn't eaten yet, so I had to remedy that situation," Booth said, an amused look on his face as he put the food cartons on her coffee table.

He proceeded to plop down on her couch- as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

"Booth, it's after midnight. And Wong Foo's is across town. There is no way you could passed it, and simultaneously been in my neighborhood."

His face fell a little, and Brennan immediately cursed herself for being so literal.

"I just thought… you know Bones, we used to do this all the time, after we solved cases. Especially the tough ones. Don't you remember?"

Brennan wrapped her arms around herself protectively, and nodded. "Yes. I wasn't saying that I didn't want your company, Booth- I was merely making an observation. I appreciate the sentiment."

"Good," Booth said, a breath of relief whooshing out of him. "Because I am really looking forward to some good Thai food. Pass me the chopsticks, Bones."

She chuckled and obliged, before joining him on the couch. They were both silent for a moment, before Booth broke the stalemate.

"Y'know, having Thai isn't the only reason I decided to come by."

Brennan froze, and looked up at him with apprehension. She noticed the way his eyes had darkened slightly, and the way his nostrils flared. His jaw tightened, and his muscles tensed. She nervously put her chopsticks down and waited. She knew what these body signals meant. She recognized them all too well. He was about to take a gamble.

"Booth, I-" she began to protest, before he interrupted her.

"No, just hear me out, alright?"

She recoiled from him- his words a raw, painful reminder of the last time he had taken a gamble. Booth seemed undeterred, and continued.

"Look, Bones… I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I've decided you're right."

"About what?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Partners don't keep secrets from each other," he said seriously, his hand resting on her knee. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about… everything that happened in Afghanistan."

She hadn't meant for her sigh of relief to be so loud, and so when he gave her a funny look, she quickly coughed to cover it up. "Why would you feel like you couldn't tell me about that, Booth? We've been partners for over six years."

"It's not that I don't trust you, Bones," he explained in a softer voice. "But… I just wasn't ready to share it. It was too soon."

"And now isn't?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern for him.

He paused in hesitation, and then ignored the question altogether as he abruptly stood. "Any beer in the fridge?" he asked casually, as he walked to her kitchen area.

"Yes," she said quietly, "help yourself."

He returned with four bottles, and handed her one before settling back into the couch. Brennan eyed the remaining two extra bottles warily. This was the universal signal between them that meant they would be discussing something deep.

Booth took a swig of his beer, and then leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "It was supposed to be a routine day," he said bitterly. "I was taking my soldiers out for a little training that afternoon." Booth ran a hand through his hair, and shook his head sadly. "If we had been out of there ten minutes earlier, we might have missed 'em."

Brennan opted for silence, but her hand automatically reached for his, and she gripped it tightly as he continued.

"Insurgents attacked our post, and we were captured… and then tortured for information. We were rescued two days later, but it was too late for one of my men. It was my fault, Bones. If only-"

"Booth," she said gently, "do you remember what you told me? You told me not to blame myself over something that could have been."

His eyes were cold, and distant as he stared through her wall- not really seeing anything.

"Booth!" Brennan said sharply, finally snapping him out of his daze.

He looked up at her expectantly, and she offered him a wan smile. "It's time you start taking your own advice."

He nodded at her, but before he could reply she had jumped up from the couch and was walking over to her stereo system.

"I know what will cheer you up," she muttered, before finally finding what she was looking for.

Booth studied her curiously as she pulled out a CD and wiggled it in front of him. "Foreigner," he chuckled, a sly grin replacing his once pained expression.

"I've been told it's our song," Brennan said, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "But I'll only listen to it with you on one condition."

Booth raised a questioning eyebrow as she put it in her CD player and turned the volume up. "And what's that?"

Brennan smiled as the music began playing, and said, "Don't go near my refrigerator this time."

His face broke into a blinding charm smile, as she finally managed to coax him out of his guilt-induced slump. She surprised him by grabbing his hand and pulling him up, and off the couch. Brennan proceeded to play the air guitar, and began singing at the top of her lungs. Booth shook his head in disbelief as he watched her finally let loose, and he quickly joined her in singing.

Her melodic voice kept a wide grin on his face- this woman was a constant surprise to him. They danced around in a carefree manner- much like the night so many years ago. But this time- there was no boyfriend calling to interrupt. No refrigerator bomb rigged to explode when opened. It was just him, and her- allowing themselves to forget all of their troubles for a while, and just enjoy each other's presence.

When the final chords of 'Hot Blooded' faded out, Brennan clicked off the CD player, and grinned at Booth sheepishly.

"We should finished eating, now. The food's going to get cold."

"You've got a microwave," Booth quipped with a shrug.

She chuckled huskily, before sinking down onto her couch and resuming eating. Booth followed suit, and they were both thoughtfully silent until their food was gone, and their beer bottles were drained. Booth sighed contentedly, and leaned back into her couch.

Brennan was staring at the floor, and Booth swore he could hear the gears in her head turning as she thought about something. The worry lines that wrinkled her forehead told him it was something serious, so he kept quiet. It was best to allow her to work things through on her own, at times like these.

He tipped his head back, and rested it on the cushion of the couch. His breathing slowed as he began to doze.

Brennan- oblivious to Booth's slower breathing, finally put down her empty bottle of beer and cleared her throat. Booth jerked from his light sleep, and stretched a little before looking at her expectantly.

"Whatcha thinking 'bout, Bones?" he slurred, his sleepy expression earning a soft smile from her.

She tucked her legs beneath her, and looked at him with some unrecognizable emotion. "Do you remember our second case together?"

"The Cleo Eller case… 'course I remember," he mumbled, before shifting so that he was facing her.

She reached for the extra beer- now silently grateful he had grabbed more than two. Brennan nursed it gently, her eyes carefully avoiding his. Booth noticed her hesitation to continue, and so he prodded.

"That was six years ago, Bones. Why bring it up now?"

"Angela gave me some advice during that case. Some that I've attempted to apply to my life daily."

Booth raised an eyebrow, before teasingly whispering, "Glug glug, woohoo?"

Brennan chuckled softly, but shook her head. "That was not the advice I was referring to. Angela told me, to offer up a little bit of myself sometimes. To tell someone something I'm not quite certain I want them to know."

She shot Booth a careful glance, and was pleased to see he was listening attentively to her. Then again, he always did. Brennan took a deep breath, and then continued. "As I said, I've tried to apply this to my daily life… but mostly, I end up only sharing with you. Because I've learned that you won't judge me."

"It's good that you know that, Bones," he said softly, his hand finding her knee again and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Besides- I'm not exactly in a position to judge."

"I still have nightmares, Booth," she blurted, unable to contain herself any longer.

"About the Gravedigger?" Booth queried, concern evident in his eyes.

"At first they were, yes," Brennan said, "But after I left for Maluku, and you for Afghanistan… a different one plagued me."

She fell silent, and took a long drink of her beer. Booth followed suit, though his eyes were trained on her worried face as he waited for her to continue.

"It's the same nightmare, every night," she whispered hoarsely. "You're laying in the sand, bloodied and broken, and no one hears your cries for help. I try to reach out to you… but I'm too far away. I watch you bleed out in front of me, Booth. Almost every night-"

"Bones," he said softly, his other hand brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. "I'm fine, alright? I'm right here. I always will be."

"You can't promise that," she reminded him, her voice catching in her throat.

"Well, then I promise I will never willingly leave you again," he said stubbornly. "And I keep my promises. Especially to you."

She nodded, before swiping at an errant tear and inching closer to Booth- her head resting on his shoulder.

"I missed this," she said softly. "Just the two of us, together. I find it… very cathartic."

He patted her knee gently, and sighed.

"Me too, Bones. Me too."

A/N: Alright people, you know the drill. Please, please review- and let me know what you think!