A/N: Special thanks to my Betas 'Terri1' and "Nyre The Black Rose", each bring a unique perspective and keep me honest with the tone of the story, also I'd like to extend a special thanks to 'Terri1' for all the suggestions and wonderful edits as well.

Many thanks to everyone who added this story as a favorite, alert or has read it! I can't reach out to you individually to thank you but I know your there and it makes all the difference.

Those of you who have reviewed my many thanks, you make a difference.

Chapter 12 – Thanks and Anger

Booth closed the space between them as though it didn't exist. With no thought to the possibility that this person could potentially simply kill him where he stood, he reached for her. His gun hand went around her waist, pulling her into his embrace, while the other cupped the back of her neck. Then he kissed her as though he was a man dying of thirst and she was his oasis. His lips crushed hers, his tongue demanding entry that was granted when a small moan escaped from her. All his pent-up grief overwhelmed him and his mind whirled. He must be dreaming. He'd dreamt this moment nearly every night but her lips felt so real, her taste never sweeter. But he tasted tears, and her face was wet too. Sighing softly, he broke off the kiss when the need for oxygen became urgent.

Resting his forehead against hers, he murmured, "I must be dreaming."

Bones leaned into him, breathing his scent while attempting to catch her breath. She whispered with a hint of amusement, "Booth, I'm going to be concerned if you're dreaming and walking around with a gun. Incidentally it's digging into my back."

Chuckling lightly Booth replied, "Some things never do change, do they, Bones?"

Bones glanced to the bed the indicated he should follow her. She closed the door lightly and whispered, "Booth, we need to talk."

Quirking an eyebrow in her direction, though she couldn't see it in the darkness, Booth retorted dryly, "I'd say that's an understatement Bones. Give me a minute and I'll put this away." He needed a few moments to pull himself together anyway. He was shaking with joy, but he could feel the undercurrent of rage too. Where had she been for three years? He needed to be calm while she talked. Booth walked down the hall as Bones made her way to the kitchen.

She reached up in the cabinet over the stove and found the candles she'd been looking for, still stored where she had always kept them. She took three votives out, lit them, and placed them at intervals on the kitchen island. She spotted the half-empty bottle of scotch and the empty glass. She figured they would both need a drink to get them through the next few hours. Reaching into the cabinet she got out two tumblers, filled them with ice and poured the aged scotch over it.

Booth hadn't taken long to pull on some jeans and a t-shirt and stow his firearm. He reached the kitchen just as she was pouring the scotch.

Leaning his hip into the counter, he took the tumbler from her and murmured softly, "If I'm dreaming I really, really don't want to wake up." Taking a slow sip from his tumbler, he leaned back on the counter and asked, "You want to tell me what the hell's going on?"

Bones knew this moment would come some day, she just never expected it today. Her handler had informed her that Booth had kept the apartment almost as a memorial to her and that it stood empty months at a time. Yet the night she chose to come back, he was there. She shook her head when she considered the irony of the moment.

Looking into the dark chocolate brown of his eyes, she took a moment to really look at his face. He'd aged a little, and she wasn't surprised that he'd aged well—Booth had always kept himself physically fit. But looking at the lines around his eyes, she saw that grief had taken its toll.

She took responsibility for that; she'd made a decision that she hoped he'd understand. All the years apart and she loved him as much as she had three years ago. She wondered, did he?

Taking a deep breath, she said, "It's a long story, Booth." She settled on a stool facing him. Resting her elbows on the counter, she picked up her glass and sipped it slowly, savoring the burn.

"Well, why don't you start with the fact that you're not dead, and then you can explain to me who that child is in the other room." Booth's voice was soft but there was a bite of suppressed anger to it. He knew he'd get nothing if they got into a shouting match, and he was doing his best not to jump to the obvious conclusion and scream at her for keeping both herself and his child from him.

Taking another sip of the scotch, Bones felt the liquid courage run through her veins, giving her the strength to start again. "I've been in Witness Protection for the last three years." She couldn't look at him and spoke quickly, sensing his pent-up emotions. "The night I died, it was staged. I didn't know until I woke up in the hospital that it would be that night." Her eyes implored him to listen though she could see the tension building in his posture.

"The explosion was planned, but they didn't expect that you'd let me actually come in with you. I was supposed to be grabbed from the car. Instead, they had to improvise. Agents on the scene were able to shield me from the explosion just as you went down. The body they left was a woman of my approximate height, weight, and facial features they had procured from the morgue and left for the EMTs to find."

Downing the last of the scotch, she waited. She knew exactly how he had felt if only for a few weeks. She remembered how she had coped using anger and logic. Booth would have used guilt and responsibility.

When she went into the program, she knew he was alive—she'd verified that herself before allowing the agents to pull her away—but that he and everyone she loved would consider her dead. She'd felt dead. For a long time only thoughts of the baby had kept her sane.

They were now sitting facing each other, their hands nearly touching but not. She tentatively reached across, hoping to feel his warmth if only for a moment. Even as she lifted her hand to rest it on his forearm, he sat back abruptly, effectively pulling himself away from her. Her hand dropped. Her heart did as well.

"So you planned this? You knew and you didn't think to tell me? Did I mean that little to you, did depriving our child its father mean nothing to you? Did your family and friends mean anything at all?" Bones felt the words deeply, though only a pained whisper could be heard. Booth had gone back to leaning against the counter as far as away as he could without actually leaving.

She'd known he'd view it as a betrayal. How could he not? But she also couldn't help her own visceral reaction to the accusation. Bones bolted up from her seat, nearly knocking the stool down as she struggled to contain her own anger. She stood in front of him, her face inches from his own. Her whispered reply was equally pained as she demanded, "You really think it was easy? I was leaving everyone I loved. Everyone! You, my father, Angela, Hodgins, Cam, … everyone. You think it was easy to be alone having morning sickness with no one to care, no one to rub my back, nag me to eat. No one to make sure I took my vitamins or when I got so big, no one to help me get out of bed in the morning."

Her voice cracked. "No one but me to welcome our child, I feel cheated Booth!" Her voice rose in anger. "And what thanks do I get for doing the only thing I could to protect our child? I get accused of causing unnecessary pain!" Her voice was nearly inaudible. "It was necessary. If I didn't go everyone I loved was in danger. I couldn't let you get hurt. I couldn't let our baby be hurt." She leaned in resting her check against his chest. Her anger quickly evaporated her arms circled his waist.

But Booth wasn't quite ready to forgive and forget, his stayed with his back to the counter. He held his body stiff. Normally he would have wrapped her in his arms and hugged her close when she was this upset. He wanted to do exactly that, but he was still too angry.

Booth wanted nothing to do with forgiveness just yet. "What about me? You died! Do you realize when you died, I died. When we buried you, I just wanted to jump off the nearest bridge—I'd lost you, the baby, everything that mattered! If it wasn't for Parker I would have done it Tempe! Don't you get it?" The anguish of his voice was more revealing even than the words he'd uttered.

Pushing her off of him, albeit gently, and moving away from her, he refilled his scotch glass and motioned to Bones questioningly. She shook her head mutely. Shrugging he tossed it back. Feeling the burn helped to take way the pain of her betrayal.

"Now you're telling me your back. Great! Let's throw a party for the great newly undead Dr. Temperance Brennan," he said, voice dripping with disdain. "Yes, let's all do that and wash away all the pain her death caused." Having paced around the room, he found himself in front of Bones once more. He placed a hand on either side of her, trapping her between his body and the counter. His short harsh breaths mingling with hers, he demanded, "Why were you in danger? You knew I'd do anything to protect you." His voice dropped and his jaw clenched. "Didn't you trust me to protect you and the baby?"

Her hands moved to cup his face momentarily. For a moment he took in the softness of her touch, his face turning into the cradle of her hands, but then jerked back quickly and growled, "Answer me!"

"Booth, I will not be intimidated and I will answer all your questions when you calm down," she said quietly. She threw him an icy stare and slipped away from him, intent on putting some distance between them.

She'd turned the corner down the hall but didn't get two feet when Booth had grabbed her by the arm and pinned her against the wall holding her arms on either side of her head, he braced his thighs against hers. His face merely inches from hers she couldn't miss the pain, hurt, and confusion racing across. As though he had no control, his lips crushed hers. His hands released hers, instead roughly grabbing her hips and grinding them into his own. A moan escaped, from whom neither knew. He moved his lips from hers and moved to the soft flesh of her neck, not soft nibbles but bites, and instead of dulling her arousal the pain awakened it. It had been so long, and she'd missed him so much. Bones pulled at Booth's T-shirt until the offending item was thrown to the floor, her hands everywhere—his chest, his back, dipping below the waistband of his jeans, cupping his ass as she pulled him tighter, causing them both to moan.

His lips had moved from her neck to the cleavage her low-cut blouse provided. His hands moved from her hips to her breasts. Her back arched invitingly, her breasts begged for his touch. Her whimpers drove him wild to possess her. His fingers fumbled with the buttons, and Tempe's voice was hoarse with desire as she demanded, "Booth god damn it, rip it off."

Needing no other encouragement, buttons flew as the material tore, leaving her breasts only encased in black lace there for the taking. Grabbing her hips, he hoisted her up. Her legs wrapped themselves around him in a vice-like grip and she arched. He leaned to take one nipple using his tongue to expertly swirl the tip into a near frenzy. Tempe whispered, "Booth, bite me, god I want you to bite me, I need you to bite me," she groaned. His tongue froze on her words, and instead he took her nipple and began to bite lightly and tug, sending sensations straight to her uterus. Her mind whirled. Only he existed, only he mattered. "Booth, take me to bed please," she begged.

Those words had the effect of throwing cold water on him. God, he wanted her. With a violence that was barely contained. But he lowered her legs slowly back to the floor and pulled her close, still kissing her lips passionately. Gently bringing them both down with kisses that grew softer instead of wilder, he whispered, "Tempe, I love you. More than my own life. But we can't do this. Not until we've talked." Feeling the refusal on her lips, he kissed them tenderly one more time and held out a hand to her. "Let's get some sleep, okay? We'll finish discussing this in the morning." He was already kicking himself, but if he made love to her now, while he was still pissed, it would solve nothing. And it might hurt both of them even worse.

She looked into his eyes and saw the exhaustion, the suppressed rage and desire warring for dominance, and knew it was the right thing to do. She took his hand and offered a shy smile. "You're right. But before we do that I have someone you need to meet."

Gently guiding him back to the guest bedroom, she switched the hall light on. Somewhere unnoticed in the middle of their argument, the power had come back. Tempe turned to Booth and whispered, "Seeley, this is your daughter, Isabelle Seeley McKeenan. She'll be a Booth when this is all over." Leaning over, she gently lowered the covers from her daughter's face.

Booth stood transfixed. He saw the auburn curls spilling around her cherub face flushed pink with sleep, her mouth pursed, her lashes long and soft. His hand rose involuntarily, and he glanced at Bones. "Go ahead, Booth. She's your daughter," she encouraged. His hand brushed the soft curls from her cheek. His finger softly traced the outline of her face, and his eyes filled with tears. Wrapping Tempe in a hug, he whispered, "She's beautiful, Tempe."

A/N: Not quite sunshine and daffodils, but would have expected that, anything else would have been out of character.

Those of you who stuck around to this point aren't you glad, as I promised there was a rainbow at the end of all this gloom, wonder where I'm going…. Read on…. And see if you enjoy the rest... remember only 20-25% of this story is complete... long way to go everyone... , so be sure to tell them what you learned in this chapter... i.e the key point!

Thank you

TravelingSue