A/N: Um…did anyone miss me? Anyone? (-pouts as people remind me that I've only really been gone a week, even though it feels like eternity-). Humph. Fine then. Well, I missed you:-)

Thanks for those who wished me well with my move. Everything went smoothly, and I'm now 800 miles away from where I was, surrounded by boxes, but still itching to write…so, I did, so I wouldn't be distracted later from the real work. On the bright side, unpacking is a little more fun than packing, so I don't have as much to hide from when I'm done.

Much love to my reviewers. You keep me going throughout the miles. Don't think I don't appreciate all of you.

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He had collapsed in the bed with his arm over his eyes. It had been all business from early morning to evening…checking out the crime scene and interviewing potential suspects and witnesses, while Bones examined the remains that had been found and took care of shipping the pertinent evidence back to the lab. She would be going back to D.C. the next day in the early afternoon, while Booth would remain to try to get more leads on the case. He envied her…going back to her normal life tomorrow. Never one to complain about traveling, he had as of late become somewhat irritated every time his work took him away from home. There was just too much he was leaving behind, even for just a few days.

She had stowed her equipment in the room adjacent to the one in which they were sleeping. It seemed a little wasteful at this point, but the bureau of course still supplied them with two hotel rooms—why wouldn't they?—and Booth was not about to make the mistake of telling his superiors that he and his partner would only require one from now on. No, no, no. He was not that much of a glutton for punishment.

She emerged from the other room. "As soon as the remains get to the lab in the morning, I'm going to have Hodgins do analyses on the particulates on what's left of the victim's clothing…I think we're going to find that he was killed in a location separate from where we found him."

"Please, no more shop talk," he pleaded from his spot on the bed. "It's bad enough we had to talk about dead bodies over lunch and dinner. Can't we just have a few hours off?"

She raised her eyebrow. "It is what we're here for, you know. Remember? Investigating murders? Solving crimes? It's what we do."

"I haven't forgotten that. But I also haven't forgotten what it's like to sleep. And what it's like to eat without talking about human decomposition."

"Ah. You need to learn the science of selective amnesia. It can be very helpful in cases like this." She smiled lightly before heading into the bathroom to rinse the day off her body.

Sighing, he sat up, kicked off his shoes, and loosened his tie before turning on the television. As much as he fussed, there was something soothing about falling back into the rhythm of the business end of their partnership, the familiar flow of science blending with intuition reminding him of how they fit together even when not acting out their role as lovers. This was what had drawn them together in the first place, and he was gratified that it remained a part of their relationship. Still, at the end of the day, he wanted nothing more than to see her softer side, contrasting with the cool, hard logic that she had exhibited during this investigation. The scientist in her…well, she was brilliant, amazing, awe-inspiring. But the woman in her…he would never, ever tire of coaxing her out, and enjoying the fruits of his efforts.

His eyes closed once more, and he didn't recognize that he had been dozing off until his partner emerged from the shower seemingly seconds after first going in. She was wrapped in one of the hotel's small white towels, and her hair hung in damp waves around her face. Rummaging through her bag, she found her hairbrush and began stroking it through her curls in front of the mirror, smoothing and straightening them until they fell slickly down her bare back.

In the mirror, she saw his eyes had opened. She had thought he was watching TV, but she noticed that his unwavering gaze was firmly centered on her. "What?" she asked a little self-consciously. "Is there something wrong with me?" She examined her reflection in the mirror.

He laughed lightly, still not used to seeing her insecure. "No. I just like looking at you." It was true. He could spend hours just watching her, observing how her body moved.

She smiled back unsurely, then went back to brushing her hair, keeping her eye on him in the mirror. "You're just hoping my towel will fall off."

"Well…that wouldn't hurt. But it's not necessary." He extended a hand to her. "Come here."

Her nose wrinkled. "You want me touch your dirty body with my clean self? Forget it."

Chuckling, he replied, "You've touched a lot dirtier things. Come here." He reached up and tugged on her hand."

Relenting, she joined him on the bed, snuggling beside him while he wrapped his arms around her. "Mmm. Feels good." Her right hand found his left, and she extended her fingers against his palm, measuring its size against her own. With interest, she stroked his fingertips with hers, trying to feel the tiny ridges there, then traced his whole hand with two fingers. It was warm, and her damp skin soaked up the heat. He watched her delicate exploration, trying to guess what she was thinking. He was getting better at reading her, but there were still times when getting inside her head felt like looking at a two-way mirror with the lights on. You knew that there was something going on right behind the glass, and if you found the power switch it would be as plain as day. But try as he might, he could only see his own reflection. "I can see your wheels turning."

She glanced up at him, frowning. "I don't know what that means."

"You're thinking about something."

She shrugged, and her hand dropped to his chest. "I'm always thinking about something. It's a curse."

Her voice sounded a little sad at this, and he held her a little closer. "As much as I love that active brain of yours, sometimes I wish I could just hit the 'off' switch and give you a little break from it."

Considering this, she fell silent for a minute while he stroked her hair. In his arms, she felt she could deal with anything life threw her way. Experience had told her not to trust that feeling. Right when you felt invincible, when it seemed everything was going smoothly—that was when it seemed you were most likely to be hit with the greatest misfortunes. It seemed a superstitious coincidence, but it was deeply ingrained in her, and she was loathe to tempt fate by being too happy.

She traced patterns on his chest thoughtfully. "How do you know?"

Momentarily confused, he tried to remember what was the last thing he had said to her. "How do I know what, baby?"

"That you love me."

His mouth opened, then closed again. He hadn't been expecting this particular question.

Oblivious to his struggle, she went on. "We make a good team…we always have. We look out for each other. Care about each other. We have great sex. But I'm sure you've had that before, with other people. So how can you be sure that it's love? How do you know it's not friendship, plus infatuation?"

He had to choose his next words carefully. "Are you wanting some kind of logical explanation? Or something more subjective than that?"

She wasn't sure what she wanted. "Don't know. Maybe…both, if you have them."

"Okay." He paused thoughtfully. "Have you ever heard of the triangular theory of love?"

She looked at him blankly. "No. It sounds made-up."

"I swear. A very important scientist came up with it after years of research."

"When you say scientist…do you mean psychologist?"

He chose not to confirm or deny this. "This scientist studied the components of the emotions that people most frequently described as love. When patterns started emerging, he found that there were three basic factors associated with the feeling. Those were intimacy, passion, and commitment. Any one of those could be, technically, a type of love. Different combinations produce different outcomes."

"So what happens when you have all three?"

"Then that's the best it gets. Then you have consummate love. That's what most everybody wants."

"Then that's it? If you have intimacy, plus, passion, plus commitment, it equals love. Like a formula."

"So the theory goes."

She looked doubtful. "Is that what you think?"

There was a pause that was long enough for her to glance up at him curiously. Slowly, he replied, "I think that all those things are good to have."

"But?" she asked expectantly.

"But…if the question is how do I know I love you…" he took a deep breath… "then my answer is, I just know."

"You just know," she repeated slowly.

"I just know."

"Hmm." Neither of them said anything for a few long moments. She turned this around in her mind a few times, examining it from every angle. He wanted desperately to check in with her, but gave her time to process. When she finally looked ready to speak, he was frightened that the next words out of her mouth would be denouncing the ultimate of his 'trust my gut' statements.

"You know…believe it or not…" a slow smile spread across her face… "I like your explanation better."

He squeezed her in relief, then rolled over on his side so he could look at her more fully. "You're not doubting me, are you?"

"I don't doubt you," she said softly. "I'm just…trying to understand it better."

He smiled, then leaned down to kiss her. She smelled fresh and clean, and he reveled in being close to her. "Well, if you have any more questions, you know where to go." He pressed a kiss on her forehead. "You tired?"

"Yes," she admitted. The day had been a long one by anyone's standards.

"That's ok. I'm going to go take a shower, so that I won't defile you anymore." She grinned. "If you are asleep when I come back…then we'll meet again in the morning."

"Alright," she agreed. As he slid off the bed and went into the other room, she wriggled out of her towel and allowed it to drop to the floor beside the bed. Usually she didn't like to be so disorderly…actually, she typically didn't like to sleep in the nude, either…but her sleepy state was making her less punctilious about tidiness than was usual. Thoughts ran viscously through her mind. Intimacy…passion…commitment. A triangle of love. How ridiculous was that? It explained nothing of the biological and chemical processes that underlay such an emotion. But, he was right…they were good things to have. Passion she had no problems with. Commitment, she wasn't terribly worried about. As long as she was relatively free in other areas of her life, she could easily devote herself to one relationship. Intimacy…there was the rub. Being trusting, open, vulnerable. It required one to lay down her armor, break down her walls. Sharing without fear that what she shared would be used against her.

She looked at herself one more time in the mirror that hung over the desk, near the foot of the bed, right before she crawled under the sheets. She remembered him making love to her and describing what he saw when he looked at her. He had seemed so openly admiring, in awe of a beauty that he saw both in her body and her spirit. Her eyes closed. Temperance Brennan seemed to be a woman of few fears; she was very much capable of taking care of herself. But deep within her, she had to acknowledge a terror that, if Booth were to see her…really see her and the pain and turmoil that existed inside of her alongside her tender feelings for him…that he would finally recognize that she wasn't as beautiful as he had imagined. Inside of her, pain and love were entwined, conjoined twins that had brought her both despair and joy in her life. It seemed that one could not be expressed without the other, so to keep the undesirable hidden she had to conceal the desirable as well. It was a sad irony that for her, hurt was love's concave reflection. Upside down, but the same.

Later, she couldn't pinpoint when her ruminations turned to dreams; it seemed that both were a phantasmagoria of surreal thoughts and images that haunted her awake and asleep. When her eyes opened again, the very beginnings of sunlight were beginning to permeate the darkness of the room through the blinds, and her lover was beside her once more. She touched her hair; it was dry. Several hours must have passed since she crawled under the covers. She felt faintly disappointed that she had not awoken to kiss Booth goodnight.

Her eyes closed again, and she pressed up against him, absorbing his warmth. He had undressed before coming to bed, as well, and she touched him lightly, his smooth skin contrasting with the hardness of his muscle still one of her favorite feelings. He sighed softly in his sleep, and his muscles twitched under her touch. She delighted in his unconscious response; even in slumber, he felt so vital, so alive, and she greedily wanted to soak up that energy. Her touch was light as it trailed across his chest and shoulders. The relaxing feel of it might have soothed her back to sleep if it had not roused him.

With her eyes closed, she didn't know that he had woken up until she felt his mouth graze her throat and work its way up to her lips. Mmm. She had been planning on drifting off again, but this might be alright as well. She rolled over on her side to face him and returned his kiss, sleepily and languidly caressing his mouth with hers. A familiar heat welled up slowly in her as he pulled her up tight against him. His naked body complemented hers perfectly, and it seemed only natural that, wordlessly and sightlessly, they begin to make love. He shifted lower on the bed so that his head was at her breast, and his fingers gently tugged at her erect nipples at a leisurely pace while his mouth spread kisses across the span of her chest. He didn't open his eyes, right now content to rely on his well-developed cognitive map of her body. Determined to both keep the lethargic tempo and while at the same time increasing their excitement, he was in no hurry to complete his journey across her body, stroking her with his hands inch by inch. Her soft gasps let him know when he hit a hotspot, and he carefully rubbed these areas, increasing the pressure just a little at a time.

She wasn't sure that this wasn't just a dream, and she didn't really care one way or the other. The stimulation, which while fully awake would have felt teasing, now felt like exactly the right pace. Her fingers grasped at his head and flexed against him in time with the pulses of pleasure he was creating with his mouth on her. She swung one leg around him and contented herself with slowly rocking herself against his hip, rubbing her sex against his skin there. He encouraged these motions with one hand on her ass, moaning a bit at the impossible heat of her against him and increasing the suction on her nipple, which he was currently laving inside his mouth. He slipped his hand lower and slid a finger between his leg and her entrance, and she greedily tilted her pelvis so that he could access her more readily. Her inner muscles twitched as he slipped his finger inside of her, and she rode his hand as she rubbed her clit against his hip.

She was ready to have him inside of her. More than ready. However, she hadn't the energy at the moment to roll over and take him; her pillow and the bed still felt so, invitingly good, the perfect accompaniment to their languorous lovemaking. She wanted him to feel just as relaxed. In response to her desires, she flipped around so that he could spoon her while both of them rested. It didn't take him long to figure out what she wanted, and he eagerly complied by pulling her close and rubbing the length of himself up and down her wetness. She reached back and positioned him at her desired target, then used her fingers to spread apart her own folds, giving him easy access to her excited opening. As soon as he began to slide inside of her, she reached back and grabbed his ass, pushing him forward so that he would fill her completely. Aroused by his soft grunts in her ear, she braced herself with her hand on the bed so she could feel the impact of his thrusts and push herself back against him.

She felt full. Intimacy. Passion. Commitment. She had them right now, more than she ever had in her life, but she had no concept of whether or not it was enough to sustain them through the storm that was their lives. How could she know whether or not it was enough? How could she know if it was too much, and she was leaving herself too vulnerable, too open to the pain that flowed so copiously whenever someone left her? Her mind reeled from the magnitude of the questions, and she knew she was thinking too much again. His pumping against her was coming a little faster, more forceful, and the erratic sound of his breathing told her he was close. No…she had distracted herself, and wasn't ready yet. Her body was warm and tingling, but she needed just a little longer… Almost instinctively, she reached behind her and felt him there, sliding against her slickly. She ran her thumb across the base of the underside of his cock, then even lower, and he made a strangled noise at her touch. She found the spot that she was feeling for, and waited until she heard the growl that always preceded his climax. When she heard it, she pressed down firmly, and didn't let go, even as he spasmed and thrust against her frantically. A small smile appeared on her lips, and she wished for a moment that she would be facing him with her eyes open. Usually when he came, she was having her own orgasm or working on it, so she couldn't fully appreciate him at the moment of his peak. She would have to do this again sometime, under different circumstances.

When he was done shuddering and clasping at her hips spasmodically, she took her hand away and gave him a second to recover. He knew something was different, but he couldn't figure it out, and he was now wide-awake and curious. "What the hell did you do?" he rasped hoarsely. The first words spoken since they woke up.

"I wanted more," she whispered back, "so I prevented you from ejaculating."

If she could have seen his face, she would have been amused by his dumbfounded expression. "But…but…I…"

"Orgasm and ejaculation and two separate physiological functions for men. You had an orgasm, but you didn't come."

Not quite believing what she was telling him, he moved experimentally inside of her of her once, twice again. Damned if she wasn't right. He wasn't getting soft. His disappointment in not lasting as long as he would have liked rapidly switched to a feeling of invincibility. She felt him grin against the back of his neck.

"I see you liked that. Are you ready to reward me?" she asked breathily.

With a moan, he tossed the covers off of their overheated bodies and began to move against her, more slowly this time, with smoother, controlled thrusts. Her moans of appreciation reverberated through both of their bodies, and he kept his hands busy playing with all the sensitive areas he could find on the front side of her. He worked his way down with his hand. When he reached her clit and gave it a gentle pinch, her eyes flew open and she gasped. Now there was the response he was looking for.

With her eyes open, a motion caught her interest. When she gave it her attention, she suddenly stopped moving, in awe. He noticed the change in her. "What is it, sweetheart?" he whispered, his voice trembling both from his recent climax and his progression toward his next.

"Look at that." He followed her gaze to see what had so intrigued her. For a second he was confused, then it dawned on him what she was looking at.

He had to admit that the scene reflected in the mirror was a beautiful one. Their naked bodies glistened in the early morning light that was streaming through the blinds. Their faces were portraits of pleasure and contentment. The fit that they always felt to be perfect was now displayed for their hungry eyes; the sight of their joined bodies was almost too erotic to bear. The physicality of what they were was attractive, for sure. Their two healthy, young, and fit bodies looked perfect together. But that alone couldn't have caused the almost overwhelming emotions that poured over her at their reflection.

He smiled down at her, and now she could see it. "You see something you like?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he repositioned their bodies so they could have a more direct, head-on view. Now both watching in wonder, he began to move inside of her again, lifting her leg so that they could watch him disappear and reappear inside and out of her body. His smile faded at the intense pleasure of it. Each watched their lover's muscles strain, the passion and lust in their faces, and the emotion in their eyes. He touched her breasts, and the view of it from this angle was a study in sensuality. His fingertips grazed her stomach and her hips, and she could view the gentleness that she had perceived but never seen. When his hand found her sex, opened her up, and began to massage her clit, she nearly fainted. Reflected in the mirror, in that moment, was her and him together as he had seen and told her about. She was beautiful. They were beautiful. Everything about them went together perfectly. Tears sprang to her eyes even as his amazing body and fingers urged her to the height of her pleasure, and her cries of climax and joy were one in the same. The visual stimulation of the scene, as well as the contractions of her around him, pulled him along for the ride. This time she allowed him to finish for real, and the force of it drained him. They watched each other come, and both would have counted the moment as one of the top ten things they had ever witnessed.

They clung to each other for awhile, catching their breaths until then began shivering from the cool air on their wet bodies. Even then, they couldn't take their eyes off of the reflection in the mirror. The sight of them together like this seemed so…right. Nobody else could take either's place. This was the way it was supposed to be.

She sighed. "That was…really good."

He laughed. "And that was the understatement of the year." He kissed her behind her ear. "You made me explode twice in about ten minutes. I don't think that's…natural." Reluctantly, he pulled away from her so they could again be covered with the blanket. He felt slightly disappointed that they were hidden once more, and wondered when he became such an auto-voyeur.

"Maybe we should add it to the list."

"The list?"

"Remember? The Reasons Why Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan Must Be Together. You invented it."

"Ah, yes. It's all coming back to me now. So what are we adding?"

"That we teach each other exciting new things. I teach you about male multiple orgasms. And you teach me about triangles."

This struck him as funny. He tickled her. "I'm going to triangle you." She laughed. "As soon as we wake up again." Settling back into the pillows, he looked at her both tenderly and sleepily.

Grinning, she settled in as well. "Then I won't even mention right now what I'm going to do to you."

"Promises, promises."

Her smile faded, and she regarded him seriously. "It's going to keep getting better. I'm going to keep getting better. I promise."

He brushed her hair from her face. "You think?" She nodded. "How do you know?"

She thought for a moment. Finally, she replied. "I just know."

"You just know?" He hid his delight.

"I just know."

They both laid quietly before falling back to sleep, each thinking of what it might be like when things were better. And thinking that if tonight was a reflection of things to come, then better might even be too good to handle.

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A/N: Well, I'm still loving the smut…heehee. Let me know if it starts to become repetitive for you…that's when I'll know to wrap up the story and move onto something else. As always, I love all reflections (no pun intended) and ideas about what will keep it interesting for you.