Many apologies for the update delay but I promise (fingers crossed!) that it won't happen again.

So this is just a quick update because I was feeling very guilty after abandoning the story after all of your responses, all of which are greatly appreciated.

Especially-

Quonoeye

NatesMama

Mustanggirlz07

Missbrat155

BoothanddBrennan

Iheartbooth

Darktwilight418

-Without them actually taking the time to review, you wouldn't be getting another chapter so big thanks :)

Just an added note- this story is in three parts- the beginning, the flashback, and the end. Each one was written at a very different time, so apologies for any errors I've missed, it really isn't on purpose, and I've checked through about eight times so here's hoping it's error free!

Waiting to see who my 100th viewer is…

Enjoy!

Brennan walked home to her apartment. She didn't know how long it took her; it could have been two hours or ten, for all she was concerned. Had she been in her normal state, then she would have remembered what time she had left, and compared it to what time she had arrived home. Calculations, carefully deducing like she usually did was simply not an option right now.

Brennan could have called a cab, but her cell phone lay untouched in her pocket. If she had took a cab home, she would have been there in less than an hour, and just thinking about that, though tempting, seemed wrong; she needed to think, she needed to function, and if the thought of getting home independently, of having no other option than to walk, helped her work even a little bit through the turmoil in her head, then it was worth it.

When Brennan arrived home, she unlocked the door, and walked slowly into the kitchen. She left all the lights off, and paused as her eyes adjusted to the dark. With a dull soft thump, her bag fell down her stiff arm to the ground. Ignoring it, Brennan moved over to refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of wine. She took a glass from the cupboard, filled it with wine, and sat at the table.

As the lights from the building opposites, and the cars driving by flashed far down below, casting meagre shadows through the window, Brennan's face was devoid of any emotion. She downed her drink in a couple of gulps. Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she reached over to pour herself another glass.

As soon as the bottle was finished, she got unsteadily to her feet, and wavered there for a second or so. Ignoring the glass, the empty wine bottle, the dark shadow on the floor that she knew was her bag, she walked slowly to her bedroom. Going through the motions, she changed from her work clothes into a tank top and cotton shorts. She didn't even feel embarrassed when she realised that she had walked all the way home still wearing her dark blue lab coat. Silently, still swathed in the darkness of the late night air, she folded herself up between her ice cold sheets, closed her eyes, and tried to fall into slumber.

Brennan looked over at Booth, and immediately felt guilty at moving away a few minutes earlier. How had things got so bad between the two of them that a simple action like that could clearly make him so annoyed?

"Booth." She began. He didn't move. "You have to go to France to be with Parker, you know that. And I know that. It's not something that I'm particularly thrilled with but I think I've accepted it."

Booth spoke into his hands. "If you really were okay with it, Bones, if you really weren't angry, then you wouldn't have been avoiding me- I mean, that makes sense, right?"

Brennan slumped back against the wall. "I'm not angry with you. If anything…" She sighed. "If anything, I'm angry with me."

Now Booth looked up. One hand came up to push his fingers automatically through his hair, and he frowned. "Wh-what? Angry at yourself? Seriously, Bones?" He exhaled exaggeratedly. "And there was me thinking I'd done something wrong. So according to you I've been in the right all along?" He did another fake exhalation. "Phew! Good to know."

Brennan threw the man next to her a look, head tilted, eyes widened in exasperation. "Please, don't joke, Booth, I'm being very serious here." Booth nodded, and Brennan, satisfied, continued quietly, awkwardly and slowly. "I'm angry with myself…because I'm not angry with you." There was a pause. "Do you see what I mean?"

Booth opened his mouth immediately, but managed to restrain himself from replying too sarcastically. "Not really, Bones."

Brennan sighed. This really wasn't her thing- talking about her feelings so openly. Usually it made it easier if it was Booth, or Angela she was talking with; she doubted that she would ever feel comfortable talking about Booth leaving. The very thought turned her stomach.

"I'm not angry with you Booth. I know that you aren't going for an inadequate reason, I understand that Parker means the world to you-"

"There are other things that mean the world to me, Temperance. Other people-"

" And I know that you might not want to go, if Parker wasn't going too-"

"If Parker wasn't leaving, I wouldn't even think about going-!"

"Booth!" Brennan said. Booth flopped back even further into the wall, weary. Every time, every single time he tried to speak, tried to cause a disturbance in her perfect little explanation, she smoothed it over, like it never happened. His words were footprints in the sand, and she was the waves, the tide coming in and out, again and again, washing away his voice. "Can you just- let me speak- please?" Silence, taken as a positive reply. "I'm angry because I'm not angry at you. Because I can't be angry with you. I know Parker, and I know that you wouldn't be happy if you weren't with him." His silence, the fact that Booth was giving her a chance to explain, spurred her on.

"So I'm not angry with you because I know why you're going. And I try to be rational, because you're going and I'm okay with it. But then…" Brennan slowed down, and leaned back into the wall, talking more to herself now than Booth.

Her words, however, had properly captured Booth's full interest. "But then I think about you actually not being here, not being able to see you…like the last week or so, but over and over and over again. I know why you're going, and it annoys me that I understand that. I wish I could be somebody who didn't understand, who could make a fuss, and beg you to stay, but I'm not. I want you here with me. But you can't stay."

Brennan stopped, and stared ahead in a daze, as her words evaporated into the air and hung heavy there. Booth, never moving his eyes from her face, reached down and took her hand. Brennan's eyes focused on her smaller, pale hand, and his fingers, curled around hers, his thumb running across her soft skin.

The tension was hanging thick in the air now. Brennan squeezed his hand back. In a second, their eyes met, pausing as they stared at each other. In a single moment, Brennan was thinking about how much she wanted to kiss Booth; a single moment later, she was. As soon as their lips tentatively met, the touch changed instantly from soft and innocent to passionate. Hands frantically moved, touching skin, and hair, and tugging urgently at their layers of clothes.

Brennan woke suddenly, beads of sweat trailing down her forehead. Her skin was clammy, and every inch of her body was flushed and shaking. Brennan felt boiling, but when she lifted her trembling hand up to her face, her skin was cold, and wet with tears, as well as sweat. She could taste the salt droplets gliding down her pale cheeks, and she brushed them away hurriedly. Everything seemed wrong; she felt feverish, but she was cold. Her hands fumbled as she threw the covers away from her, exposing her bare legs. She leaned back into her pillow, her hair sticking annoyingly to the back of he neck, and her face; she pushed it away carelessly and climbed slowly out of the bed.

Brennan shivered as her feet made contact with the soft carpet. She padded across the room but stopped abruptly when she caught her reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door. The room was bathed in darkness, but she could still see enough of herself, wearing small cotton shorts and a flimsy grey tank top. Her hair was a mess, and though it looked like she had a black eye, she knew it was her smudged makeup. Squinting through the darkness, Brennan stood, silently, and looked at herself. She slowly moved her hand up to the necklace around her neck, the metal cool against her fingers, as she fingered the simple but beautiful pendant. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. Part of her even wanted to rip it from her neck, and throw it to the floor; the very thought of actually doing so made her recoil, repulsed at herself as new waves of guilt flooded over her. Brennan rushed to the bathroom, and retched over the toilet, the feelings of nausea refusing to leave her body. Shutting her eyes, she leaned back wearily against the cool tiles on the wall.

Part of her was aware that she was crying. The rest of her was remembering, images and snippets of conversation. She remembered all those months ago, Booth turning up at her office, clearly upset. That was the real start of it, the trigger to all of the events that had followed. A more recent wave of memories; spending the night in the lab basement with Booth, the very thing that had just caused her to awake so abruptly, so painfully ( was that really just two weeks ago??)- Angela, pleading with her constantly- Booth's face, blank, eyes wide at the doorway to her apartment- then the cab ride, the horrible, panicked cab ride-

Brennan got to her feet once again, and moved through the shadowed apartment like a ghost, her pale skin ethereal and glowing. She felt for the phone on the cabinet, and dialled the number, a task she could have done asleep.

The phone on the other side rang and rang. She knew it wouldn't be answered but it still caused her eyes to prick when she heard the automatic voice asking her to leave a message.

Brennan swallowed.

"Booth. I'm sorry."

She paused, and placed the phone back onto the receiver.