He expected her to be asleep when he walked into her room, curled against the pillow as she had been earlier that afternoon. Though he wasn't surprised to find her awake and staring at the door of the room, he could still say that he wasn't expecting it, but he should have been. The room was empty but for her, and the lights were turned down in an attempt to get her to sleep, and when Angela and Hodgins left an hour earlier, they thought that she had drifted to sleep, her eyes closed tightly, her breathing slow and regulated, and the occasional sleepy involuntary twitch that was just visible to someone who was looking for it.

The moment that the door had closed behind her best friend and her friend's husband, however, her eyes had opened wide, and her head turned to face the door, as she willed it to open and reveal the one person that she wanted and needed to talk to. Part of her wanted to be angry with him, part of her wanted him to just pull her into his arms and hold her, and part of her just wanted an answer to the millions of questions that she had rolling through her mind. The sedatives she had been given had slowly worn away, and with that, came the uneasy sleeplessness and worry that had plagued her for the past two weeks.

She had seen the look on his face when he had left the room, and she knew that look very well.

Shame.

She knew that he was shameful for something, and it wasn't because he hadn't contacted her for two weeks. She knew there was more to that look, she could see it in his eyes, she could see it in the way his head lowered when he walked from the room, and she knew from the time that he had spent away from her, that he was thinking about it. There was never a moment where she thought that he wouldn't return to her room, she knew that she would just have to wait for him, so she lie on the bed, her eyes focused on the door, and she silently hoped that it would be soon.

When the door opened, she made sure to focus on his face and not turn her head away. She knew that any emotions he was feeling would be written like hieroglyphics in his eyes. A language and writing that only a select few could decipher, she needed to see it in its purest form, directly face to face. She held no surprise in her features at his return, only need, and when he stepped into the room, his focus moved directly to her face, and he immediately noticed that she was reading him. His eyes lit up slightly, when he noticed the look on her face, that squinty look that she always seemed to reserve for her one true love, her anthropology. His lips curled slightly, happy that he hadn't woken her, though concerned that she wasn't getting the rest that she needed. "You're awake." He stated, his voice holding back a bit, and he could see the stubbornness streak through her eyes like lightning.

"I was waiting for you."

"You knew that I was coming back." He replied, his eyes focused on hers as he stepped forward toward the bed, crouching down, reaching for her hand.

"Yes." She whispered.

"Then why didn't you go to sleep?"

"I worry about you."

His only response to that was a gently rolling of his thumb over her hand, the tender warmth of his touch was soothing and real, and she didn't feel quite as alone as she had in the moments before he took her hand. "Bones."

"I always worry about you." She interrupted, her voice cracking slightly, and he watched helplessly as her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey." He whispered, attempting to lift his hand from hers, she gripped it tightly and shook her head.

"No, let them fall." She whispered, forcing him to watch the tears slide down her skin, dropping needlessly onto the pillowcase. "Let them fall…" She said, feeling his hand pull from hers, he didn't listen as he ran his thumb easily over her cheek, the rough pad of his finger soaking the teardrop that she had been willing to fall into his skin, he watched her eyes close. "You never listen." She whispered, attempting to roll onto her back, she pushed her cheek against his hand and stubbornly moved from the intensity of his gaze.

"I listen." He whispered. "Tell me what you're thinking."

She took a deep breath, again and again, her focus on the ceiling as he remained crouched beside her bed, he could see another teardrop make its way down the contours of her cheek, sliding down her temple, he watched the droplet slide against her ear, and followed it until it joined the other tear on the pillowcase. She took in a deep, rattling breath, her lips trembling as she released it in a heavy, emotion filled sigh. "I worry about you all of the time. I thought… that if I didn't know exactly where you were… that I could compartmentalize… I could at least trust you to keep yourself safe." She whispered. She turned her head and could see the shame in his eyes. "What did you do, Booth?" She whispered.

"Bones." He whispered again, and the stubbornness in her eyes had gone from a flash, to a fully involved inferno. There was no getting around it… he would need to brave the flames, and risk the possibility of being engulfed by them, or try his best to dance around them, only to burn himself slowly enough to not feel the pain until it was too late to do anything about it. "Bones…I didn't want to hurt you."

"Are you referring to the two weeks that you were without contact, or are you referring to something else?" She asked, her voice was almost back to its normal, clinical self and for that, he was concerned.

"I never want to hurt you." He replied, watching the flames of stubbornness become higher, as her eyes narrowed slightly. He could see that her chin was dimpling slightly, a sign of fear, not anger, and he knew that if he didn't douse the flames soon, they would take them both down with them. "Bones, I am not on leave." He whispered.

Her mouth opened slightly, her eyes widened. "You deserted?"

"Not quite." He said with a painful cringe.

"What did you do, Booth?" She whispered, knowing the only other option.

"Bones." He whispered, thinking for a moment that she could possibly think he had done something wrong crossed his mind, and that was what he feared most, that she would believe that he could do something to hurt another person. He was a dangerous man when he needed to be, not one filled with vengeance, but one filled with pride. Pride of his country, pride of his loved ones, pride of his comrades and friends. He would do anything to protect those around him, and he was now terrified that she would think less of him, that she would think the worst of him, that she would feel as shameful as he felt.

"You say my name as if you expect me to break your heart with my next words. I'm not going to cut you down, Booth. I'm not going to jump to conclusions… but you are making me concerned that you're not telling me things that I should know. Why are you here?"

"Because I need you."

"Why were you discharged?"

"Because I need you." He whispered.

"That's not a reason." She shook her head, her brow furrowing in distaste, her throat now dry, just from the look in his eyes.

"Why did you let yourself get so sick?" He asked, watching the flame flicker in her eyes. "Temperance?" He whispered, seeing it flicker a little more.

"That's unfair." She whispered, the strength in her voice diminished.

"Tell me."

"Because…" She whispered. She swallowed hard, and Booth watched her eyes close as she did so, as if it were painful. "Because." She said again, her voice was a simple whisper.

"It's okay, baby." He whispered, carefully running his finger over her cheek to capture the inevitable tear that would be trailing there in a moment.

"Because I need you." She whispered, allowing the sob that was captured in that hard swallow to escape, and her arm reached out to grip his shirt as she pulled him toward her, capturing his lips with hers, she felt a droplet trace down her skin, and with the knowledge that it wasn't her tear that had dropped onto her cheek, she knew that whatever confession was to come, they would survive it, and they would persevere, because when it came down to the truth, and its consequences… they were never alone as long as they had the other to hold through the pain.