Sully insisted on sleeping on the couch. And secretly, silently, Brennan was glad. She may be rational, but she wasn't completely heartless.

Sully was a great guy. He was the perfect guy, she could see that. But he wasn't her guy. Booth was her guy. Always had been. A little silence couldn't change something like that.

Brennan supposed that Sully was right. She had known that actually talking to Booth was the right thing to do, but she had let her fear get in the way of that. Fear, because talking about it and fixing things meant permanent change, which Brennan, as a general rule, didn't deal with well.

As it was now, Brennan could treat it like some kind of horrible mishap. Those kinds of things happened all the time (admittedly, not to her, but she was willing to overlook that).

She resented Sully a little for sort of forcing her to talk to Booth, but at the same time she was unbelievably relieved how understanding he had been.

After leading him on like that she didn't exactly deserve it.

It took a while for her to fall asleep as she rehearsed what she wanted to say to Booth over and over and revised it each time, trying to anticipate his answers. Before this whole ordeal she would have considered this easy, but because they had both been so inconsistent in the last few days, she had a very complicated conversation chart planned out by the time she fell asleep, a different path through the maze of things she wanted to say found depending on what he would say. Depending on what he had decided.

XXXXX

Day 4

Brennan woke up disappointingly unrested, though not unexpectedly so. She never slept well before she had to make big speeches to important people. At least with all her previous speeches she had always known the science of it all backwards and forwards. Plus, they never depended on anyone else's decisions and responses.

Groggily, she made her way to the kitchen while smoothing out her hair. She had by no means forgotten about Sully, and was not surprised to see him in the kitchen rooting through her fridge.

"Have you called Booth yet?" Sully called from behind the refrigerator door, having heard her approach.

Brennan sat at her dining room table. "I thought I was supposed to talk to him in person," Brennan said, surprised by how easy Sully was going to make this for her. A phone call would be much easier.

"Well, yeah, of course you're going to talk to him face to face, Tempe. Don't think you're getting out of that," he replied, pointing sternly at her with the bottle of orange juice in his hand. "But it's Saturday. So you can't just waltz into his office. You have to find out where he is," Sully explained as he turned from the fridge with an armload of booty to start making her breakfast.

When she didn't move, he took her landline off its station on the counter and set it on the table in front of her. She looked up at him, a very small part of the fear she was feeling showing in her eyes.

"Should I tell him you're here?" she asked, uncertain.

Sully thought for a moment. "If you do, I'd leave the kissing part out, at least for now. I don't want to get punched in the face," he said with a laugh.

She still looked uncertain. "So should I?"

Sully shrugged. "You know him better than I do, Tempe."

"But you're a guy."

"That has nothing to do with it," Sully told her, motioning to the phone again. "Call him."

Brennan half smiled at the odd turn of events. Sully was like the new Angela. Not that there was anything wrong with the old one, but it was odd how well he fit the role.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number she'd had memorized for years. As it rang, she took a deep breath.

Here it goes.

"Booth," came the answer. He was mid-laugh.

There was a stab of hypocritical jealousy that she couldn't help but feel. "Hi, Booth, it's me."

"Oh, hey Bones!" he greeted with surprising ease. "What's up? What do you need?"

It was like nothing had ever been wrong. "Are you busy today?" she asked, slightly nervous.

"Well I have Parker for the weekend—"

"Oh, then I don't want to impose—"

"But I can probably—"

"Don't even worry about it, Booth—"

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I'll call you Monday."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"I am."

"Talk to you then, Bones."

"Yeah. Bye."

She hung up in a hurry and looked to find Sully giving her a very stern look. "He has Parker for the weekend," she said in her defense.

"You didn't try very hard."

"He never gets time with his son. I'm not going to take any of that time away from him, Sully. Parker is the most important thing in Booth's life," Brennan explained.

"Except for you," Sully said, like it was common knowledge.

"I don't know about that."

"Tempe," he said seriously. She looked at him. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Call him."

"Don't call him? I already did," she said, turning her head slightly and looking at him the like idiot he sounded like at the moment.

Sully took a deep, frustrated breath. "Don't hide from this. Don't let him get away, Tempe. Don't make excuses." He paused for clarity's sake. "Call him. Again."

Unsure why she was really doing so, though that rarely happened, Brennan followed Sully's instructions.

"Can't wait after all, huh Bones?" Booth answered on the first ring. He was still laughing, still distracted by playing with his son.

"I changed my mind," she lied.

"Alright," he said affably. "What is it then?"

"Could we meet sometime today or tomorrow? I know that you have Parker, but it's important." Her heart was beating unreasonably fast. It was just Booth she was talking to. But still, she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"Absolutely," Booth agreed. "Anything for you, Bones. I'll just drop Parker off at one of his friend's houses for a while. I can meet whenever you want."

"The sooner the better," Brennan said, looking at Sully for confirmation. He gave her the 'you go, girl' pump of his fist with a huge smile on his face. Brennan smiled at his joy. Sometimes it was nice to have your own personal cheer squad.

"Do you want to meet at the diner in, say, forty-five minutes?" Booth suggested.

"Perfect," she said.

They said their general goodbyes, and the second she hung up, Sully wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up out of her chair and spinning her around. "We have a date!" he kept saying.

Somehow, Sully always managed to do the right thing by other people.

Hundreds of days later, he would surface momentarily to stand in the crowd, to admire them, to be happy for them. To toast to them. With a smile on his face. The grin of a good sport. A good loser.

Then he would ride off into the sunset, to god only knows where.

And they'd never see him again.

His next adventure was calling.