i personally find it helpful for this chapter in particular to reread the last one to get myself wound up properly. they did start out as one unit, after all, and seem to go together. aww... sorta like b&b!

thanks to last chapter's reviewers: tom's gg, bluetigress, aching bones, tempertemper, heatherberry, meleigha, danireed, brenshorter, pokerprincess7, fanofbones, mistopher, fantabulous mumrulz, and laperkin.

What on earth is going on with you, Booth? You're worked up over whether your partner, whom you've decided is best kept a friend and colleague, would somehow discern that your ex had been at her apartment and had tried to reinstate your long-dead relationship. All irrelevance aside, how could she even know? Reading people is your area of expertise, not hers.

Except... hibiscus. She knew him. He subconsciously wiped his mouth once more before following Rossi into the lab, coming very close to guiding her with his hand to her back. Damn habits. He pressed his arm to his side.

Brennan stood on the platform, huddled over bone fragments with Zack. She usually reveled in skeletal reconstructions. They felt to her like a giant, delightfully complex and meaningful jigsaw puzzle, but in this occurrence, the time crunch had her a bit testy. Cam had more than once gently reminded her that the powers-that-be wanted IDs on the remains yesterday. And she had commented more than once on the impossibility of that request, and that she would have the IDs when they had finished these complicated reconstructions, not before.

She knew she was good, but Brennan admitted that it would have taken her far longer without Zack. They had been exchanging banter over the bone fragments all day, what Angela had referred to as "Vulcan speak," and the two had been so engrossed in their work that they had neglected to break for lunch. The combination of all of these stimuli had sufficiently cleared her mind of the morning's events.

She didn't hear the series of beeps behind her that signaled a new presence on the platform. The footsteps didn't register. But the low, playful voice sliced clear through her train of thought and caused her to look up.

"Whoa, that is one big, grisly jigsaw puzzle."

"What's up, Booth?" she looked up at the warm sepia eyes she'd woken up to, but they were examining the remains before her.

"We've got some evidence for you to take a look at," Booth replied, still staring at the shards on the two lit tables.

We?

For the first time she noticed the curvy form of Agent Rossi standing behind her. She thought that Booth was going to act as intermediary and keep direct contact to a minimum. She hadn't expected to see her again so soon. Brennan nodded in greeting without actually looking at her.

"What is it?"

Rossi held up a vial of clear red liquid. "It is a sample of the beverage that poisoned Agent Colombo," she lilted.

Brennan held her gloved hands in front of her and nodded toward the side of the platform. Rossi gently placed the vial on a glass desktop.

"I'll have Hodgins take a look at it when he's finished up with his mold."

Booth spoke up again, "I'm also going to send over a sample from an old case for comparison."

She noticed that he had still not looked her in the eye since he came in. Was he still irritated over her refusal to accompany him in the arrest earlier? Was it awkwardness over their kiss? Was she that bad of a kisser? Did this have to do with the secrets he was keeping from her? With Rossi's presence?

Knock it off with the conjecture, Brennan.

Hadn't he been wearing a different suit that morning?

"It might be a while before he can get to them," she said firmly, now focusing on his darting eyes.

When they finally met, he didn't look away. It had never occurred to her that Booth usually looked at her in a most extraordinary way, absolutely connected as though she could read his thoughts like a teleprompter, until she saw his eyes come up empty. What was probably only a second felt like fifteen years and every moment of it was disconcerting.

When he finally spoke, it was quiet. "How long is a while?"

"It's hard to say. He'll probably be preoccupied until at least late this afternoon."

Booth's brows furrowed. "Hm." He slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and tilted his head to the side. "I thought you might have some mild interest in a case that might be linked to your own poisoning."

She did. More than mild, but now she was feeling the tension again. "We can't prioritize based on personal interest, Booth, and we do actually have work that doesn't pertain to the FBI, you know." Her words were calmly detached. She focused her attention back down at her bones and realized that Booth hadn't looked at Rossi the entire time he'd been here either. It made her uneasy. And churlish.

Booth left without another word.

By the end of the day, he had mellowed. Rossi had finally departed, allowing him to relax and ponder. He'd been able to catch up on paperwork, including that for the Molly Hunter case. He'd picked up a late lunch and chowed down in the atrium of the Hoover Building.

Why had he been so short with his partner all day? Fear from that soft, soul-shattering kiss? Reflected anger toward Rossi? Guilt for something that he had not even done? Well, not intentionally done in any case.

The one thing that he didn't allow his mind to mull about was his sneaking suspicion that, as anticipated, Bones had read his mind and knew exactly what had happened. He found himself frustrated at how naked that particular talent of hers made him feel. He found himself replaying the scene over and over in his head.

And he found himself missing pleasant banter and bickering with his Bones.

At quitting time, he debated picking up fast food and going straight back to Bones' pad for about ten seconds.

Then he packed up and headed toward the Jeffersonian.

Of course she's still here, he thought when he walked through the doors to find her in a nearly empty lab in almost the exact same position as when he'd left earlier. He chuckled softly and moved up to the platform.

"Still at it, Bones?" he asked gently.

She looked up at him with slightly tired eyes. "No rest for the winded."

"No rest for the wicked, Bones."

"What is it with your expressions? No rest for the winded makes sense... you've been running really hard, you're out of breath, but you can't take a break."

"It's a biblical thing. I didn't make it up."

"And what's with snow on the roof? What if the person doesn't have completely white hair?"

"'Though there may be snow on the roof, there is still fire in the furnace,'" Booth quoted.

"That still makes no sense."

"Something about old folks still being useful or something."

Brennan looked down at her bones, which now looked much closer to an actual skeleton, Booth thought.

"What are you doing here, Booth?"

"Seeing if you're ready to go home. Maybe pick up some dinner on the way." He raised an eyebrow though she didn't see it.

"I need to finish this skull."

Booth stretched, arms over his head, making his torso look about three times longer than normal. "Alright. I'll just go wait in your office."

Body immobile, bent over the table with eyes peering at her work, she stated, "You should go home. I won't be done anytime soon."

"So, I'll take a nap, catch up on my reading, crack open a beer and watch the game."

"There's no TV here, Booth."

"It's a..." he stopped and sighed. "Just... do your thing. I'll be in your office."

It was a full three hours before she finished. Booth had managed to get 30 pages into Structural Anthropology before dozing off, book fallen spine-up on his chest, legs stretched long on the table in front of the couch. Despite her lingering irritation, she smiled at the scene before her as she walked into her office.

Though she didn't need or even particularly want the protectiveness that was so prized in their society as a masculine ideal, it was attractive that someone who was so socially and genetically ideal focused on her so often. Not for herself, she didn't need a boost to her self-esteem, but it said something about the man that he didn't take the path of least resistance. He could have chosen an easier line of work, found a subservient and adoring mate, flirted and charmed his way into nearly anything he wanted. For a well-structured alpha male such as himself, these things would have been thrown at his feet. But he chose a line of work that challenged him, he stretched his mind as much as his well-toned muscles.

Okay, so he'd fallen asleep fairly quickly into Levi-Strauss' fundamental volume on structural anthropology. He was a cop. She was impressed that he'd picked it up in the first place.

It was attractive that he had such a driving passion for putting criminals away. And it was impressive that, ignoring society's expectations, he expressed his protectiveness over someone who infuriated and challenged him as a matter of habit, someone who became so irritated by that protectiveness.

He stirred. The sepias looked up at her. "You look like a train wreck."

"Oh, thank you."

"Of course."

"It's been a long day," she said slightly defensively.

He glanced at his watch. "I'll say. When's the last time you ate?"

She thought back. Breakfast. "I could handle some food."

Booth took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know what's open at this hour."

Something warred inside Brennan for a moment, famished won. "Let's just hit a drive-thru and get burgers."

Unsurprisingly giving no argument, he leapt up from the couch, replacing the book on her shelf. Brennan's eyelids felt heavy.

"I don't know if I'll be able to stay awake behind the wheel."

"That's because you've been overworking yourself while you're still recovering," he shot a look at her. "I'll drive."

Brennan was too tired and hungry for the responsible vegetarian in her head to put up much of a fight and, after getting the green light from Hodgins' machine, she chowed down hungrily, finishing her cheeseburger and fries in no time. The building ache in her head suggested that she skip the beer. Booth had two to make up for her temperance.

When the partners hit the spot in the hallway outside the guest room, next to the photo of herself and her brother at the beach, Booth pulled her into a warm hug. She didn't relax right away.

"I'm sorry for being so snippy today," his voice hummed through his chest into her ear.

A long breath and a thought later, she softened into the comfortable arms wrapped around her. "Me too."

"Goodnight." They released each other and went into their rooms.

In bed, she decided that Booth was right, that she had overworked herself. Rather, the steady pounding in her head was bellowing that particular bulletin. She knew that a massage would spirit her straight to dreamland, but they had already gone too far down that path for their current relationship. She took a double dose of pain medication and fell into an uneasy sleep.

She didn't rest well, and was not ready for the morning when it arrived.

you have no idea how close i came to saying "abstention" instead of "temperance."

if you review, i'll kiss it and make it all better. next chapter brings answers to many of your 'historical' questions. also fluff! you know how much you love fluff, so leave me some love!