"You're back!" Angela yelped, lunging forward nimbly before Brennan could dodge her embrace. The artist crushed her wayward pal firmly against her bosom and then immediately asked "Why?" in a nakedly judgmental tone.

"It's nice to see you too, Angela. But please refrain from expressing your surprise at my sudden reappearance."

Angela took a small step back, only partially stymied by the cold formality in her friend's hello. She knew Brennan was all about distancing when she was uncomfortable; no point in getting defensive about it.

"Wow, someone's touchy this morning; I'll just treat you didn't just leave on a year-long safari. How's that?"

"Not a safari," Brennan corrected. "Voyage would be the more appropriate term for an excursion involving water."

Angela's lips curled upwards in a forbearing smile.

"Aha..."

"I'm sorry; I'm realize I'm being evasive, as well as overly supercilious," Brennan said sheepishly. "You know how much I hate divulging personal information at work, or anywhere, really, but it seems that for the next few hours I'm going to have to endure that situation as gracefully as I can. I'm sure your questions won't be the last I hear today."

Her friend nodded in agreement. "Yup, I think you'll have to put on your big-girl panties for this one. So, may I go ahead and ask you what you're doing back at the lab? Or would that be pushing it?"

"You're already asking-requesting my permission to continue on that line of inquiry would be pointless. And if you must know..."

"And I must. Now, out with it, before I shake it out of you."

"I'm here because Sully and I severed our relationship. I'm resuming my duties at the Jeffersonian."

At least she had the soliloquy down pat by now, Brennan thought morbidly, a crutch of dark humor being the only thing keeping her upright of late.

As soon as she heard the overly-rehearsed sounding speech Angela's face fell; this wasn't even remotely how things were supposed to go. Boat, beaches, cocktails, Sully tan and shirtless, sex. A break-up wasn't meant to be one of the ingredients in that savory party mix.

"What happened? You guys looked so happy when you left...are you sure you gave it enough time, sweetie? Four weeks is nothing in the scheme of things, really. I mean, every couple hits rough patches at the beginning of a relationship."

Brennan's hard-won stoicism began to fray in the face of her best friend's obvious disappointment.

"I'm actually not sure what I'm doing back in Washington, Angela," she admitted. "But I do know that what Sully and I had was not what I hoped it would be or what I thought I wanted. Unfortunately for the two of us, I lacked the necessary information to reach that determination before I left."

"So you were the one who put an end to things?"

"Yes; I believe Sully was quite satisfied with our relationship."

The artist shook her head. "Poor guy-he must be heartbroken-he even named his boat after you."

"He wanted me to stay, Ange," Brennan added sadly, remembering Sully's desperation. "He was very upset when I left."

"What made you want to leave so soon? Did you guys have a fight? A boat can be an awfully small space to be stuck in with another person-maybe you should have started out on dry land, in bigger digs."

"Actually, we had agreed to live in Anguilla for the rest of my sabbatical-we even looked at several rather appealing housing options."

The conversation stopped abruptly.

"And?"

"It's..." Brennan shook her head helplessly. "Everything between us was going well, and then something happened."

An expectant Angela stared at her friend, her impatience now rapidly morphing into hard-core irritation. She needed information, and she needed it stat, because what she'd gotten so far left way more questions in its wake than it answered.

"Well, you can't just leave it there. What happened?" she pressed.

"It's foolish, really; I'm embarrassed to even say it."

"You, embarrassed? I didn't think that was even possible. Boy, whatever it was must have been really bad."

"It wasn't bad, it just wasn't real."

"Back up, sweetie-you've got to give me more to work with. What wasn't real?"

Brennan glanced at Angela apprehensively; if she told her friend the truth, there was no way to untell her.

"I...I had a dream," she said after a prolonged pause.

"I hate to break it to you, but I think that line's already taken."

Brennan scowled. Exactly when had her life turned into such fertile ground for other people's entertainment?

"Alright, spoil-sport" Angela grumbled, taking the anthropologist's vicious hint. "What do you mean you had a dream? When was this? And what was it about?"

"Not what, whom. While I was away with Sully, I experienced an erotic dream that involved me and someone else-someone who was not Sully."

Angela's eyes narrowed, her curiosity teased far beyond what could be deemed humane.

"You had a sex dream? And that made you turn around and leave that gorgeous, sweet, hot guy? Wow, it must have been something else. Who exactly was the stud you were doing it with? Do I know him? I want details, missy."

If Brennan thought she was blushing in Booth's office, it was nothing compared to what she felt her face was doing now. Her cheeks must be ablaze, like sugar maples in the fall.

"Booth," she answered with rare timidity.

Angela's face broke into an incredulous smile, and then she doubled over with laughter.

"You had a sex dream about Booth, and that made you break-up with Sully? Brennan, hon, who hasn't had a sex dream about Booth? The guy was practically custom-built for naughty fantasies; there isn't a woman alive who's met him who hasn't thought about him that way at some time or another. Personally, I've had a few that left me scrambling for my sex toys in the morning-just don't tell Hodgins. You can't just dump your boyfriend over something like that. My God, if everyone who had a sweaty dream about Booth ran headfirst out of a relationship, the world would be full of lonely, repressed women-and probably a bunch of guys too."

Brennan shuddered inwardly; hearing her reasons deconstructed so bluntly by Angela made them seem even more outlandish.

"I told you it was ridiculous. I knew you wouldn't understand. I don't understand, and I'm coming to really resent that state, along with the explanations that everybody wants me to give and which I don't possess."

"Wait, wait-let's rewind. I'm sorry-I didn't mean to make fun of what you went through; it obviously must have affected you a great deal if you were willing to undo all of your plans and hightail your behind back to D.C. What exactly was it about this dream that made such an impression?" The artist paused. "And was it hot?" she asked with a poorly concealed grin.

Brennan sat down on the edge of Angela's desk, her hands folded primly on her lap as she tried to come up with an account of the events that didn't make her sound like her IQ had just plummeted 50 points.

"It was so vivid, Angela. We were having sex, and I felt...I can't explain it. All I can say is that I felt safe, and incredibly happy; like for the first time I was exactly where I belonged. And yes, to answer your question, it was extremely 'hot;' disturbingly so. When I woke up that morning, the life I was living with Sully in Anguilla, the future I thought I had with him, were no longer acceptable. I expended considerable time and energy over the next few days pretending everything was fine, hoping that the sensation of being with the wrong person would pass, but it didn't. As the week progressed, I only fixated more on Booth while at the same time becoming more uncomfortable with Sully-I couldn't even bring myself to be intimate with him again after that day. Absurd as it sounds, it felt like a betrayal of Booth. Go ahead, make fun of me all you want-it would be completely justified. I would have no problem expressing my derision if I were in you place."

"Nah-I wouldn't do that. I've made life-altering decisions based on way less substantial things than a dream-french fries and a really cold coke come to mind. But the important things is, do you still feel that way about Booth, all hot-and-bothered like you did when you first woke up?"

Another hint of warm color appeared on Brennan's cheeks.

"Yes, I suppose that's why I'm here; I may not have understood what was happening to me when I was in Anguilla, but I knew I couldn't stay there."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Do about it?" Brennan asked dumbly. "I haven't actually thought that far ahead; my fractured state of mind only brought me back to Washington."

"Wow," Angela interjected in shock; "this is truly remarkable. I've never known you to be this spontaneous. Even when you left with Sully you were all about weighing pros and cons. Have you at least talked to your dreamilicious partner-in-crime yet?"

"Booth? I went to see him this morning. I'm sure you already know that he's working with someone else now-Agent Perotta."

"Yeah, I heard" Angela said, mouing in distaste. "That woman is like a little wind-up bloodhound. She caught a whiff of lonely Booth, and she gave chase until she wore him down."

"She didn't do anything wrong. He isn't attached to anyone, and we were never together in that way."

"It may not be wrong, but it's very inconvenient, especially now that you're back. So what'd he say when he saw you?"

"He was surprised, obviously, but I'm not sure exactly how he felt about seeing me; he originally seemed happy, but then..." She shook her head. "As you know, I'm not the best at reading body language."

Angela moved closer, examining her friend's tired face with concern. "Brennan, are you in love with Booth? Because from everything you're telling me, it sure seems that way."

The anthropologist's lost expression along with her silence pretty much confirmed Angela's hunch.

"Oh my God; you are, aren't you? It wasn't just a sex dream-you love Booth!"

"I don't know; maybe" Brennan finally conceded, her mind slowly opening up to that previously unacceptable suggestion. "Why I only became aware of my feelings when I was fifteen hundred miles away from him, I can't really say."

Angela pawed the air dismissively. "Easy-face it, Brennan, you're pathologically afraid of commitment. And since deep down you loved Booth, you didn't want to try something meaningful and daring like a long-term relationship with him without being certain you could handle it. Sully was the safe choice to help you get over your jitters."

She saw her friend scoff at the notion.

"Brennan, don't you get it," Angela hammered; "Sully was the relationship equivalent of a tricycle; half-way between walking and flying. But Booth-Booth is the grownup bike, all shiny, sleek and well, just plain screaming to get taken out for a ride. Once you understood that you were capable of making those kind of connections with someone without totally freaking out, you realized that there were really appealing possibilities out there that you'd never let yourself consider before-like our favorite guy in a suit."

The simplistic view of her situation made Brennan deeply unhappy; she certainly hoped it wasn't even remotely accurate.

"You make me appear very frivolous and also rather mean and thoughtless, exchanging men like I would one mode of transportation for another. Sully was truly hurt by what happened; I would have never knowingly used him for emotional target practice. Besides, what you posit is all terribly abstract; none of your theories can be substantiated empirically."

"No, but I'm still right. And you're not frivolous or mean, sweetie; just a confused woman who just found out she's in love, really in love, probably for the first time ever."

Angela smiled knowingly.

"Who would've guessed? It turns out Sully wasn't so much Booth's rival as his wingman; oh, the irony. So, c'mon, what are you going to do about Booth? You've got to get him back before Perotta drags him over the hills and through the woods to her little gingerbread house in the forest."

Brennan's blue eyes reflected her weariness.

"I think it's too late. He called her Payton, Angela" she said, her voice reverberating softly with the pain she had felt earlier that morning.

"Payton? Who cares? I'd rather have Booth call me Bones than Payton any day. Now, if he starts calling her something stupid like Tinkerbell, that's the time to start worrying."

"This entire scenario you're talking about is absolutely crazy; first you refer to tricycles, and now you're talking about fictional characters from a children's book. What sort of plan am I supposed to have when it comes to Booth? It's not as if he's a set of skeletal remains I can lay out on a table to examine and reconfigure at my leisure."

The artist grinned. "Laying naked Booth down on a table and playing doctor with him-hmmm...that actually sounds really nice."

"Ange..."

"Okay, okay. But everyone needs a plan in a situation like this. No general goes into the battlefield without one. I say you show up at his apartment in a skimpy outfit with a bottle of champagne, for starters. Liquor always helps. Works for me."

"I can't just 'show up' at his place; what excuse would I have? We aren't even partners anymore."

"I don't know-we'll come up with something."

"There's something else. Sully maintains that all Booth and I have in common is work. What if that's the case? What if Booth isn't capable of reciprocating my feelings? I can't take the risk of approaching him romantically in any overt way only to discover that attempting to have a relationship outside of work with him is futile; I can't. It would be too...mortifying."

"But isn't this kind of why you came back in the first place? To be with him in a non-platonic way? Otherwise, what's the point? Remember, there's no room for dignity in relationships. No guts, no glory."

"The reason that I'm here is that I couldn't remain with Sully without compromising my ethical values along with his emotional well-being; nothing more."

"Pshaw!" Angela snorted; "my butt-you didn't just come back to find your ethics. And believe me Brennan, there's more to you and Booth than work. Of course Sully would say something like that; what'd you expect? He was losing you-he was going to say anything he could to keep you from getting off that boat. Listen, I've seen you and Booth together-what you guys have is an old-fashioned barn-burner. As to your other crappy excuse, everybody and their brother knows that Booth's always had a thing for you-well, everyone except you. Why do you think I never jumped him? He was already yours, sweetie, since the very beginning. Alright, so you don't tackle him right away because the possibility of failure makes you uncomfortable. Coward," the artist threw in under her breath.

Brennan looked up sharply, miffed at Angela's characterization of her-and upset that perhaps that moniker fit a little too well.

"Get him to work with you again, and then you can take him down," the artist urged.

"I already asked; he seemed open to that suggestion, but he told me he has to finish his case with Agent Perotta first. That could take weeks-or months," Brennan replied dispiritedly.

"Months? Danger, Will Robinson; danger. That won't do. Meet him for drinks at a bar, then-just to talk about old times."

"He invited me to have drinks with him and Agent Perotta tonight at Founding Fathers."

"There you go. Now you can size up the competition."

"I said no."

Angela made no attempt whatsoever to hide her horror.

"You're kidding-you have to go. Don't let her nab him right underneath your nose!"

"I'm tired. I'm not up for conversation, especially of the trivial kind."

Angela grabbed the anthropologist's shoulders and began pushing her out of the office.

"We're gonna get your coat, and you're gonna go home and take a nap. Then you're showering and getting dressed-nice-no sciency, boring stuff-and you're gonna head to that bar and wedge yourself between those two while there's still room. I'm going with you, just to supervise. Get my drift?"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Really? Just walk in on them and pretend I'm having a good time?"

"Really-no excuses."

"And after that, what?

"One thing at a time, sweetie. One thing at a time."