"Please. I need to know. Are you leaving?" Her heart was beating so hard she felt as if it might burst out of her chest as she waited for his answer.

As much as he didn't want to have this conversation…well, at all, but especially when he was still feeling weak and out of sorts, he had promised himself that he would have a frank and open discussion with her about what was going on between them before he made any decisions about the future. "Bones, I…I don't know."

Her expression was perfectly smooth and calm, giving him no indication of how she felt.

"Why?" There was a slight tremor in her voice.

"Why am I considering it or why don't I know?"

She pursed her lips. "Both, I suppose."

Moving slowly, he turned and propped his feet on the coffee table, leaning his head back against the couch and closing his eyes. "The other day when I asked you if everything was okay between us? You said—" he paused. "You said you weren't sure. If things aren't okay with us, if you don't want to be partners anymore…I just needed to know see what my options are." He turned his head slightly to look at her.

"If I don't want to be—oh." Her cheeks flushed. "Cam called you." It wasn't a question. Brennan cursed herself for being so impulsive and foolish. Of course Cam would tell Booth about their conversation. She hadn't thought to ask Cam to keep it a secret. In truth, she hadn't thought at all. She'd just reacted to Booth's half-revelation, jumping to erroneous conclusions and creating more misunderstanding and confusion in the process.

"Booth, I was—I made a mistake."

"You what?"

"I've been keeping something from you, because I was afraid that it would affect our partnership. I thought that I could just deal with it on my own and things wouldn't have to change between us, but…" she trailed off, because while he was still looking at her, his eyes had glazed over and he was smiling strangely.

Booth found that he was having difficulty focusing on her, and her words suddenly sounded strange and warped. He raised his hand to scratch his nose and found that when he moved, it felt like he was swimming through syrup.

"Booth? Are you okay?" She scooted closer to him, pressing her hand to his cheek, then his forehead. He didn't feel feverish, but his eyes were glassy and unfocused.

Her eyes landed on the Vicodin bottle on the coffee table, and she recalled how he'd reacted the last time he'd been medicated for back pain. It hadn't been quite this dramatic, but the fact that he'd barely had anything to eat or drink for the past 24 hours likely exacerbated the effects of the drug.

She sighed. They obviously weren't going to finish this discussion now. His eyes fluttered closed, and he turned to curl against the arm of the couch. He was asleep in seconds.

She parsed their conversation, trying to figure out what Booth had meant.

His breakup with Hannah was mutual.

He was kidding himself.

Did that mean that he hadn't actually loved Hannah? Had he lied?

As for his explanation about the transfer…was he only thinking of leaving because he thought she wanted to end their partnership?

And now that Hannah was gone, what should she do? She had resolved to disclose her feelings to him, but she wasn't sure that the timing was right. Should she wait a little while?

She was worried that Booth would think that she was only telling him because Hannah left. He might think that she expected him to respond in kind, when the truth was she didn't have any expectations from him. She just wanted to stop pretending.

She was beginning to think that all of these misunderstandings were her fault. If she'd just been honest with him about her feelings instead of running away, perhaps none of this would have happened.

There were just too many unanswered questions for her to come to any conclusions yet.

She groaned in frustration. So far, every conversation they had only raised more questions than were answered.

She watched him sleep for a moment, and realized that for now she just needed to focus on Booth's immediate needs. She couldn't make any decisions regarding her relationship with Booth without more answers from him, so she would just have to deal with that later.

At the moment, her biggest concern was his back. She knew he would be much worse off if he slept on the couch, but she also knew her own physical limitations. She couldn't possibly transfer him from the couch to his bed without his assistance.

"Booth. Booth, wake up, please."

He stirred and opened his eyes sleepily. "Mmmmmrph."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed." She scooted closer to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "I'll help you."

On the third try, she finally managed to get them both vertical and she helped him stumble to his bed.

Assuming that he was probably going to be asleep for a while, she muted the ringer on his phone and put it at his bedside, then gathered her things to run home and get a clean change of clothes so that she could shower. She wasn't comfortable leaving him alone for the night, but she felt that it was safe to leave just long enough to run home.

When she returned forty-five minutes later, he was still sleeping peacefully. She quickly showered, ate dinner, and then arranged a makeshift bed on the couch. It was nearly ten thirty by the time she'd finished everything, and she was exhausted.

She checked on him once more and then went to bed, expecting to fall asleep quickly, but she found that she couldn't stop thinking and worrying. After lying awake for nearly an hour, she finally got up to make a cup of tea.

As she made her way to the kitchen, she heard a soft, rhythmic thumping sound coming from Booth's bedroom. She had left the door cracked earlier, and she pushed gently on it now, peeking in to check on him. He was tossing fitfully in his sleep, mumbling words she couldn't make out.

She perched on the edge of the bed next to him and said his name softly several times. When she reached out and touched his shoulder he started awake and grabbed her wrist forcefully, wrenching her arm.

She cried out in surprise.

He froze.

"Bones?" His hand still gripping her wrist fell to his chest, where she could feel his heart pounding.

"Are you okay, Booth? It sounded like you were having a nightmare."

"I was—" he registered that he was holding her arm. "Did I hurt you?"

he asked as he released his grip.

She rubbed her wrist with her other hand. "I'm fine. Just surprised. How are you feeling?" Out of habit, her hand moved to his forehead, but then she jerked it back. "Sorry."

"For being concerned about me?"

She looked away. "How is your back?"

"I won't really know until I get up. I feel a little woozy from the pills you fed me earlier, though." He yawned. "And I'm still pretty wiped."

"I'll let you get back to sleep."

"No, stay."

Her entire body flushed with warmth at his words.

"Stay and talk to me for a few minutes."

"What were you dreaming about?" she asked him as she walked around the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard.

"Ancient history," he answered softly. "Vicodin does that to me. Gives me weird dreams about…" he trailed off, but she knew what he was thinking. His time in the Army. It wasn't something he talked about often.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

He took a deep breath. "Not really. Most of the time, I don't even really think about it, you know? But sometimes…" He grew quiet, and she just waited. "There are no guarantees in life."

"Except for death," she mused. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, details she'd been insatiably curious about for years now. He'd hinted at dark things in his past before, and while she desperately wanted to know the truth about him, she was also a little afraid. Which is why, despite the fact that his defenses were lowered at the moment, she didn't push.

He laughed darkly, "Yeah, Bones. Except for death." He hesitated, but then asked, "If you don't believe in God or heaven or hell, what do you think happens after we die?"

She looked surprised by his question. "I believe that our bodies decompose and the atoms that we consisted of become part of the universe again."

"So you think your soul, the essence of who you are, will just...disappear?"

"There is no evidence to indicate otherwise." She regarded him for a moment and then said, "You seem disappointed by my answer. You know I don't believe that humans retain sentience beyond death…Why are you so troubled by this?"

"Well…if you're right, and something happened to me—I get shot in the line of duty or killed in a car accident—I wouldn't be able to watch Parker grow up. I would just…cease to exist?"

"Booth, I—"

"No, it's fine." He waved a hand at her. "I just…it makes me sad that you see death as so…hopeless."

"Actually, I find it comforting."

"Really? You find nothingness comforting?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

"That? Makes no sense to me."

"Well, if heaven exists, and you are one of the fortunate few who are allowed to go there, then…you're there for eternity, correct?"

"Mmmm-hmmm." He nodded.

"I find that prospect terrifying. To be sent to some unknown place for eternity? No matter how wonderful it is, I find it difficult to believe I'd want to stay anywhere literally forever. And of course, if you're sent to hell…even with all of the atrocities I've seen as an anthropologist, I'm not certain that anyone deserves eternal torment and damnation."

They sat quietly for a bit. Booth was lost in thought about the conversation they'd had earlier about the possibility that he might leave DC—what he could remember of it, anyway—and suddenly he was seized with the need to make her to understand why he was considering it. "I don't want to leave."

"What?"

"The transfer. I thought…since the Eames case we don't seem to be…I don't know. Something's off. I thought…" he blew out a forceful breath. "After Cam called and told me you wanted to cut back on field work, and the fact that things have been weird between us…" he paused, trying to find the right words. "I thought maybe it would be better for both of us if I left."

She smiled apologetically. "I don't really want to cut back on fieldwork. But…" She sighed. "When Hannah arrived and you began building a life with her—" she stopped short when he winced at the mention of Hannah's name. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Booth. You told me…" she drew in a deep breath, cursing the tremor in her voice, "you told me you needed to move on. I just didn't realize…at the time I thought that things would be the same between us if you did. But when Hannah arrived and you began spending your time with her, I was lonely." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "It was very difficult, but you were happy, and that's…that's what I want for you."

He covered her hand with his. "I'm so sorry, Bones."

She shook her head. "No."

He was taken aback. "No?"

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said vehemently. "You have no reason to be sorry."

"Even if that were true, I'm still sorry you were lonely." He debated internally, but finally decided he couldn't pass up the opportunity. "Besides, it seems like you're not having any trouble filling your social calendar lately."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"That guy…Benjamin? Are you two…?"

"Are you asking if we're romantically involved?"

He nodded, but didn't meet her eyes.

"I told you. We're friends. Nothing more."

"Are you sure he knows that?" He regretted the words and his biting tone the second they left his mouth, but it seemed that the filter between his brain and his mouth was malfunctioning at the moment.

Her spine stiffened, and he felt her tense. He looked at their hands. He hadn't even realized he was still touching her. He slowly pulled his hand back.

"You can ask him yourself on Saturday," she replied curtly.

"Saturday?"

"I asked him to accompany me to the Jeffersonian benefit this weekend."

"Oh." He silently berated himself. They'd actually been talking—not about the stuff they actually needed to talk about, but still—and he'd screwed it up. "I'm sorry, Bones. I didn't mean to be an ass. It's…it's not really any of my business anyway."

"It's fine. You should rest."

She started to get up, but he reached out and grabbed her hand. "Don't go yet."

She hesitated, but didn't sit back down.

"Please. I've been in bed forever, and I'm wide awake now and bored." He sat forward and swung his feet onto the floor. "Come hang out with me on the couch for a while."

"Can you make it by yourself?"

He was tempted to lie, just to have a reason to be close to her, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt like a letch. "I think so."

She threw him a doubtful look. "Why don't you let me help you?" she suggested.

"Nah, I can make it." He pushed himself up and shuffled into the living room. When he reached the couch he flopped down, then propped his feet on the coffee table.

She headed for the kitchen. "I'll get you something to drink."

"Please, no more ginger ale."

She stuck her head back in the living room. "What?"

"I never really liked it all that much anyway, but now I'm really sick of it. I think there's some lemonade in the fridge."

"Okay."

Half an hour later, Booth was channel surfing and Brennan was sleeping peacefully next to him on the couch. His back was killing him again, and he knew he should probably go back to bed; but watching her sleep filled him simultaneously with peace and melancholy, and he couldn't seem to tear himself away.

Throwing his head back, he swallowed another pain pill, then scooted down and tried to get comfortable, resting his right hand on her calf.

He thought about all she'd done for him while he'd been sick. He knew without a doubt that she cared about him as much as he cared about her. He'd suspected before, but this was proof.

But that still left some questions unanswered. Did she actually want him? Maybe she cared about him as a friend and nothing more. And even if she did, was she ready to admit it? And even if she was, he'd just broken up with Hannah a few days ago. Was he ready to jump right into a new relationship?

He really wasn't sure where to go from here. He thought about what Gordon Gordon had told him more than a year ago. Hope and patience. He'd start by repairing their friendship. If tonight was any indication, she wanted to fix things between them, too. At least it was a start.