A/N: So begin the letters! Thesis work is still fairly urgent, so this is a shorter chapter, but setting other things in play...

I had my first semi-flame about Booth last chapter. I must say, I was surprised and disappointed. Some of my anonymous reviews have been absolutely brilliant, and it's a pity I can't thank you all personally – but I am so ecstatic that you are all enjoying this piece. To the one nay-sayer though – Booth is not a failure, and I do not portray him as such. I suggest that you go back and read the story very carefully from the beginning before making the comments that you did. The alternative is simply to not read this story if you do not like what I write.

I'm going to have to sit down and make a list to all those who are reviewing regularly – you all deserve a shout-out, and I love to hear your thoughts and opinions on where I'm going. There are still some (case-related) twists up ahead, and more! letters to come. Many more, actually. And maybe even a Team Gibbs appearance sometime in the future. I'm drafting that chapter now. Hopefully, this one isn't too flat – it's not sitting all that well with me, but let me know what you think – constructive criticism is welcome!

I own nothing!

Dear Booth,

I'm not entirely sure why I am writing this letter having vowed to sever all contact, but I need to talk to somebody, and you are, as always, the first person who comes to mind when I have concerns. The fact of the matter is I am aware that my foolish actions and poor choices are to blame for your lack of communication, and I take full responsibility for it. You were open and honest with me, and I... I lied to you. The guilt is almost unbearable, but I find that, as with all my choices, I must live with it.

The problem that I have identified is I find that I miss you terribly. Our relationship was admittedly more strained after that meeting with Sweets, which is why I chose this dig. My intentions were not to escape you, but to gain some perspective of my relationship with, and feelings towards, you. I find that I remain constantly worried about you, even though we are not partners. At home, I was worried that I'd lose you by being too late, now I worry because you're in a war zone and are too much of a hero. I know you wouldn't break your promise to me, even if you refused to answer my correspondence, I just hope that you are alright, and not in a hospital somewhere or worse.

I'm taking this year to explore my feelings. I find myself apprehensive about this undertaking because of much that I have compartmentalised over the last twenty years. It is strange to remember how I used to be before my parents left, but the personal recollections are there and evidence enough to prove to myself that I am able to express my emotions without fear of recrimination. It appears that it will be a long and arduous task, but I owe it to myself, and my family, that I attempt to connect with who I once was.

I wish you would be proud of me. I could never have reached this point without you.

I hope you are well, wherever you are.

Bones.

Booth stared at the letter, he had re-read it several times now, and found his hands shaking. What did Bones lie about? He glanced over at the pile of letters on the bed next to him and wondered once again if he was really ready to be doing this. Her feelings would be in these pages. He held his breath as his opened another, and read it silently. He didn't realise he was crying until a tear dropped on his hand. Perspective... Bones had wanted perspective. It was still a very vague explanation, perhaps there would be more in the next letter... he touched the envelope, and drew back. He felt exhausted. He would read some more tomorrow. But now, he needed to sleep.

B&B&B&B&B

"This doesn't make any sense." Sweets pushed his chair back from the table and sighed in frustration.

Caroline, Cam and Cullen exchanged looks before setting down their own files. Cam rubbed her temples briefly before indulging Sweets. "Are you going to elaborate?"

Sweets chewed the inside of his cheek. This NCIS Agent McGee had sent along updated information on Rebecca's killer – a Lieutenant Tyler Yeats. There had been another murder, same weapon, same MO, this time in San Diego. But there was no connection to their Rebecca or the unfortunate soul in Miami.

"The killings are random." He steepled his fingers together. "There is nothing that can tie these people together, other than the man who killed them."

"So he's a hit man?"

Sweets looked around the table and saw them all considering the possibility.

"Director Vance tells me that Yeats is Special Ops, he has the training, and his is MIA. And he's good – they haven't been able to track him," Cullen tapped his pen thoughtfully.

"So why did NCIS give us their information? Are they expecting us to do their dirty work and then sweep off with all the glory?" Caroline asked.

"That's a distinct possibility." Cullen admitted. "God knows how irritated Fornell gets when they do that to him."

"So why didn't they just hand this information over to Fornell? Why did Agent McGee come by the Jeffersonian?" Cam was still bemused by the situation.

"I think they wanted to help. Well... their Director and McGee did anyway – from what you, Dr Saroyan, and Dr Brennan have said – we're not supposed to know who this Yeats is." Sweets frowned at the ceiling. "What if we're looking at this the wrong way."

"What do you mean, Cherie?"

"What if the hit wasn't to kill Rebecca, but to send a warning to somebody else?"

"Booth?" Cam asked.

"It's a possibility." Cullen admitted. "One that does make sense... but we've had Booth under surveillance since his grandfather's death. He's done nothing to be 'warned' about in such a way."

"Maybe it's an old case?" Sweets offered. The timing is highly suspicious if it is...

"Possibly, Cherie. I just hope you know where to begin looking."

"So we're going to pursue this angle then?" Cam questioned. "That Rebecca's death was a hit and aimed at Booth?" She looked around at the agreement on the faces of those around her. "Does that mean Parker is a target?"

"If he is, why didn't Tyler shoot him when he shot Rebecca?" Sweets posed the question, and promptly answered it. "I think Parker is safe."

"I'd still increase the security around him and Dr Brennan," Caroline stated, "subtly, of course. We don't want to cause anybody any extra anxiety."

"How is Dr Brennan?" Cullen asked Cam.

"She's recovering well. She is still extremely tired, but she's looking after herself. Parker has been very good for her in that respect."

"And Booth?"

"Seems to be making some progress... at last." Sweets put in.

"Hallelujah! I was beginning to think I'd need to resort to some form of physical violence to get through that man's thick skull. I know he's been hurt, but he's been so blind, I was wondering if he was ever going to see again."

Cam cracked a smile at Caroline's reaction. "I'll say Amen to that."

B&B&B&B&B

Dr Victor Bancroft finished flipping through a well-presented proposal and smiled. Personally, he felt he'd be getting the better end of the deal – the positive media response for international research and co-operation, the generous donation to the Jeffersonian, and a formidable European contact... all for the use of his Medico-Legal staff. There were no negatives in the proposal, and Bancroft was interested enough to want more information. He pressed a button on his phone and waited for his personal assistant to answer.

"Cate. I want you to schedule a meeting with the US Castle Corporation representative. Tell them I find their proposal merits further negotiation."

B&B&B&B&B

Booth sighed as he sat down on his couch. It has been another long day of paperwork and due process. Parker, at least, seemed to have relaxed since their last dinner together. Whether it was because of his own conscious decision to not be so possessive, or Parker's general happiness, Booth wasn't sure. But it had been less tense. Now that Sweets had called him on his behaviour, Booth felt that he could step back and examine it. To his chagrin, the young psychologist had been right. Booth's feelings of helplessness and self-doubt came bubbling to the surface again, causing him to grip tightly to the paper in his hand – and thereby drawing his attention back to it.

Bones... He knew he had surprised her with the offer of joint custody. Hell, he had surprised himself. It was only after the words at left his mouth did he realise what he had said, and that he was really alright with it. She had promised not to go anywhere, for him. Parker clearly adored her and they were so good together. Maybe they would let him in to their little world... One day.

He opened the next letter and began to read.

Dear Booth,

We are sitting in tents in the middle of a tropical thunderstorm. The humidity is breathtaking, but the lightning is a sight to behold. It is so uncomfortable in the dank heat – it is almost as if one was working in a sauna. Jack made me some cards of insects and reptiles to avoid, and it has been a valuable gift, one from the heart, for which I will thank him again when I see him and Angela. If I see him and Angela again...

Between the discomfort of the climate and a constant need to be mindful of mosquitoes and other disease-bearing inspects, I find myself to be more anxious about my surroundings than ever before on an expedition. Perhaps it's the position of responsibility that I have assumed, although that should have no bearing on my psyche – but I can't seem to relax. Sleeping has become an issue. Not an issue: that makes it sound so serious. No, my sleep patterns have become altered enough for me to notice that there may be a problem, but not enough to concern me. My circadian rhythms are taking longer than usual to adjust to my mental anxiety. I hope that by telling you this, I will be able to rest easier.

I think I will avoid equatorial projects in the future. The atmosphere feels too oppressive here. Hopefully this storm blows over soon.

Bones.

Well?

Until next week!

xox ~CF