Thank you for your patience! I'm doing my MA at the minute and have had some deadlines, but I hope you enjoy this. Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, but I wish I did.

She was motionless at the sound of his voice. She'd never heard him say her name quite like that, and it felt like he'd pulled the floor out from underneath her. His hands slid up her back, the tips of his fingers touching her shoulder blades. A breath pooled against her skin. Brennan felt herself go weak, adrenaline coursing, lungs constricting, arms ever tightening around him. His hands, strong and supportive, grasped at her. He tilted his face upwards, his eyes darker than she'd ever seen them, smouldering brown and gold like glowing embers of a fire.

"It's why I said no, Booth," she whispered, "on the steps of the Hoover. It's why I left for Maluku."

He hadn't been expecting that. Brennan saw the confusion line his face, only for it to give way to understanding and pain. Booth didn't like to remember that night, or remember that white trench coat or his partner's heartbroken face as she pushed him away. He hated the memory of saying goodbye at the airport even more, knowing that they were fleeing from each other, the parameters of their partnership blurred and muddied. So often, Booth had felt like he lay face down in the mess that they were but knew he couldn't stop breathing it in, wanting to drown in them, wanting to be dragged under the surface where he could have her the way he wanted. But he was deeply confused, mostly because he couldn't see the logic in her decision.

"You turned me down because you were still angry about..." Booth didn't want to say it, he wasn't sure how she would react to hearing it again, "Bones, that was Sweets. Not me. I told them to tell you I was alive-"

"No, Booth, I meant..." Brennan tried to put it into words. The anguish she'd felt at that time was insurmountable.

Suddenly, Booth was out of her arms, bristling with frustration and his back turned. Sweets. He was going to kill him next time he saw him, he'd kill him over and over until it was fixed. God, he kept seeing Bones on the steps of the Hoover, terrified, and beautiful, and breaking his heart. And then suddenly not seeing her at all, living on opposite parts of the planet, and he'd jumped at the chance to move on just so he could get Temperance Brennan out of his head. He had just wanted his heart to heal.

From behind him, a sniffle sounded. Brennan was bereft without Booth's arms around her, and she stood, frozen in place, feeling like she was falling back into that dark place when Booth was dead. Booth turned to face her, realising she probably thought he was angry at her, thinking he held a grudge. He softened, returning to her, but she stepped away, no longer reaching for him but telling him to keep his distance.

"Bones, I'm sorry. I'm angry at Sweets, alright? Not you," he sighed and dropped his arms, "I'm gonna shoot him, I swear."

Brennan wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to go to him, back to how they were just a moment ago, tangled together, but she stopped herself. The breakfast bar was back as a barrier between them. Booth drank her in, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. What he'd give for her to be her usual self, to see that spark in her eyes, to make her laugh – everything they did together, every day as normal; he missed it more than ever now that she stood across from him, barely acknowledging he was there. There had been a shift, they had changed. Something was different. He couldn't figure out what it was and his stomach churned, uncomfortable and anxious.

"Tell me why you left, Bones," he said. "You said I didn't understand. Help me understand." His heart was in his mouth, watching her chew her lip.

Brennan knew this was it. The evidence had mounted, leading her to the conclusion, leading her to the truth. Booth waited for her, and she knew that he had always been waiting. Ever since that first kiss, years ago, in the rain.

"The first week you were dead, I didn't leave my apartment. I stared at food, wondering why I should bother." Her voice was steady, and she stared directly at Booth's face when she spoke, knowing if she looked away she might lose her nerve, "I wore your t-shirt and it smelled like you, so much so that it was physically painful for me to keep it close, but I never took it off. I slept in it, pretending you were with me. When it stopped smelling of you, I cried for hours. I barely slept that first week because when I did, all I dreamt about was you dying in my arms. I washed my hands twenty times a day, sure I still had your blood on my hands. I ignored all calls and never checked my phone because there were old messages and voicemails from you, and I knew I would try your mobile number, and it would just keep ringing because you weren't alive to answer it. All I had left of you was a t-shirt and a finite amount of your voice and words. I would never hear you any other way. You would never say my name again, I would never..." It all spilled out, no inhibition or fear holding her back, "I would never be your Bones, and I hated it. I was completely lost without you, and that terrified me, Booth."

He'd been listening in silence, mind blank but for the colour of her words. He had no idea that it had been that hard for her, that she had suffered that much. Booth had always assumed it was anger about being deceived that had caused that rift, not pain. Not pain of that magnitude. The thought of her in one of his t-shirts, sobbing, missing him, caused him physical pain like nothing else. He audibly gasped, like he'd been winded, panicked that she had kept the details of those two weeks to herself for so long. What if she'd done something far worse? And then after his assignment, what if he'd come back to find he had to bury her, for real? The terror of the thought made him speak.

"Bones, I-" He felt like he was choking, "please come here."

She ignored him, "That's why I said no. Irrespective of my feelings at the time, losing you when you were my friend and partner nearly killed me. If I allowed you to be more to me, more than you already were, and then lose you again – I wouldn't have survived it. You could've been killed in action or I would've ended up pushing you away and then our partnership would've been ruined, and I'd have nothing." She fought back tears, "so I took the first chance I got to go to Indonesia, to try and forget what I felt, so our partnership and friendship could continue. Anything else was too much for me then. I saw how much it hurt you, and I couldn't cope knowing it was me that caused you so much pain."

Booth moved closer to her, aching to touch her. She let him take her hand, watched as their fingers twined together, and it gave Brennan the final push.

"But it didn't work, Booth." She gazed up at him, trembling, "I couldn't stop thinking about you. Every day I was in Maluku, nothing changed. I realised just how much you meant to me. I made a mistake by leaving, but by the time we were all home, it was too late. You had Hannah."

"We don't need to talk about that, Bones." Booth brushed his thumb over her knuckles, "It's not important."

"You asked her to marry you, Booth."

"I know," Booth replied, exasperated, "but it wasn't..."

"It wasn't what?"

For a moment, Booth was tempted to hold back but something in her shining, blue eyes pulled the truth from him. He gripped her hand more tightly, "Bones, I'd spent five years loving you. That night you turned me down, I was gutted, alright? I didn't want to be, but I was. I met Hannah and I just, I wanted to get over you. The door was closed. You said no." He pulled her closer, still holding her hand. "Everyone was looking at me like I was crazy being with Hannah when you were still in my life. I was stupid and defensive, and I was trying to make something happen. I felt like I had something to prove, to prove that I had moved on, that I wasn't still waiting for you."

Brennan leaned into him, she couldn't help it, revelling in his warmth. It made sense, and it worried her that she understood his logic. Her heart twisted in her chest, reminded of watching Booth with someone else, knowing that it was her fault.

"I'm not proud of it, Bones. Don't get me wrong, I loved Hannah, but I tried to make her into something she couldn't be. It's what I thought I wanted. I think I knew it would blow up in my face. "

"I understand, Booth."

"I really hope you do," he pressed his cheek against her temple, his lips close to the shell of her ear. "You know how I feel about you, Temperance. Even when it didn't seem like it, that never changed."

They stood together quietly, hands still entwined against Booth's chest, almost like they were dancing. For a moment, Booth tried to clear his mind and focused on the woman in his arms. He breathed in, the sweet aroma from her hair and the soft skin on her hand stirring sharp stings of love. He'd imagined this countless times, this closeness with her, feeling it sometimes in the way they hugged as friends or in quick glances that seemed to go on forever. He knew he'd do anything for Bones. His Bones. He clutched her more tightly, not wanting it to end.

"I was scared then," Brennan said, "but my fears have changed."

Something deep in Booth's body set alight, crackling with anticipation. If she could hear his thoughts, she would know how much the sound of her voice affected him. He held his breath.

"I could have lost you again today. I'd be alone in my apartment wearing your t-shirt, knowing for sure, that you would never come home." She pulled back, looking at him. Her gaze electrified as she spoke, "the only thing I am afraid of now, is that I will never know what it's like to be with you. Even if it means pain and losing you all over again, in every way."

Her hand slid to his jaw, curving round his neck to cup the back of his head. Booth shivered at her touch, warming beneath her hands. His mouth parted, dragging thin breaths into his lungs, disbelieving. The door was open for him to step through. The paper they had burned, it didn't matter now.

"It's you, Booth. It's always been you," she whispered urgently, the crooked smile he loved playing on her face.

A beat, as her words sank in, and then Booth and Bones collided, feverishly. A sharp intake of breath as their lips met, Booth's arms wound around her bringing her impossibly closer, every line of her figure pressed against him. Every kiss an apology, a promise, a vow to make up for lost time. Tongues danced, Bones' hands running through his hair, Booth carefully feeling the rise and slopes of her body with painstaking precision. His hand slipped beneath her sweatshirt, fingers curving over her hip bones. Hearts sped, blood humming as they stumbled backwards towards the bedroom, neither one wanting to break the kiss. The bed hit the back of Brennan's knees, and they broke apart, gasping. Bones admired the sharp lines of his face, the attractive symmetry of his features, the way his gaze devoured her in the same way. She slowed them down, wanting to savour him. He understood, closing his eyes as she trailed the tips of her fingers along his jawline, brushing across his bottom lip, the palm of her other hand cradling the back of his neck. Every touch raised the hair on Booth's arms. When Bones' lips kissed down the column of his neck, he sighed raggedly and quickly brought her mouth to his.

Each move had meaning. Brennan lifted Booth's shirt over his head, marvelling at the firm, golden skin of his torso. I want you, it said. Her hand flat over the scar on his chest, the bullet he had taken for her. I remember. Booth's lips capturing hers, deep, reaching kisses like he'd always wanted to give her. I need this, Bones, I need you. Brennan removed her sweatshirt and Booth's hands swept the uncovered skin, euphoric at the groan that escaped her when his palm met her breast. She couldn't get enough of his taste, his hands on her body, she leant closer, growing impatient. Please, Booth. He guided her down onto his bed, and knew he'd never forget the image of her in that moment. Her face rosy, blue eyes dusky with desire. Leaning over her, he kissed below her ear lobe, meandering down the curves of her body until he reached the waistband of her trousers. He slid them down her legs agonisingly slowly, taking his time to kiss every part of new skin that appeared. Brennan grabbed the hand that rested on her hip bone, squeezing in encouragement.

"Booth..." she whispered, overwhelmed.

He acquiesced quickly, ridding her of that last piece of clothing and then dragged his eyes over every inch of her. He'd always known she was beautiful, it had been impossible to ignore, but this was different. This was more than he could comprehend. She was slim lines, with gorgeous curves and pale, luminescent skin. Booth stared, speechless. Was this real? He began to wonder if he was in a coma again, and this was another dream. But even he knew that his imagination had its limitations. He shouldn't have been surprised that Temperance Brennan continued to be outstanding in all aspects. Despite their arguments and bickering, and the days she drove him insane, she had never been anything other than extraordinary to him. His expression spoke for itself. You are a dream. He shed the last of his clothes, and joined her on the bed. Brennan took him in her arms, feeling his delicious weight on her, the fever for him rising. There was no need to ask if this was right, if this was okay, if they should be doing this–it was essential, it was overdue. It was needed. The day's events came back to Brennan, and all of the pain from the last few years resurfaced, stirring an intense need in her chest. Booth saw her face change, eyes filling with tears.

"I'm here," he reassured her, "we're together, Bones. Nothing is going to change that now."

They kissed deeply, Brennan reaching down to touch him. Booth groaned against her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth. She worked him slowly, taking Booth's increasingly heavy breaths as a good sign. She didn't want to wait. She needed to feel him against her, for him to show her that they were more than anything she'd ever had before. Booth murmured her name, and shifted between her legs. Their eyes met, and Brennan saw those new worlds again. Booth saw them too, mesmerised.

Booth slid inside her, watching her face as they joined together. He shuddered in pleasure at her warmth, at the exquisite friction, at the shaky exhalation from Bones' mouth as they were finally as close as they could be. The looming presence of the near-future, of what Booth faced the next day against Broadsky, filled Brennan with need and fear for Booth. Her eyes sought reassurance, and he gave it willingly, resting his forehead against hers. He linked their fingers together, kissing her trembling mouth. I love you, it said, I love you, so much. Brennan felt it in her bones, the love, the connection. She needed more. They began to move, revelling in their closeness, in the flashes of heat that scorched their bodies. Unhurried by time, Bones traced the lines of his back, committing to memory every contour, every valley, every peak of his form that she could reach. As he thrust, Booth cupped her cheek with his hand, and the tenderness stole a gentle smile from Brennan. This was more than she had ever expected. She turned her head and pressed her lips to his palm.

"You're beautiful, Bones. So beautiful," Booth murmured urgently, kissing her neck.

A slow burn swept over Brennan's body, intensifying as Booth's resolve to take things slowly, weakened. They felt the shift in energy, the gradual crescendo of need overpowering any inhibition they may have had. Booth's hips moved faster, harder, his mouth latching onto the smooth skin of her collarbone and suckling, hoping to mark her. Bones gasped, raking her nails down his back. How had they not done this sooner? She couldn't take her eyes off of Booth. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his chest, and she saw the taut muscles of his abdomen and arms exerting, his eyes glowing as they scoured every part of her. That look, she'd realised she'd seen it before in smaller doses – years ago, in Vegas, when she'd worn that little black dress as Roxy. At the museum, in the Egyptian Exhibit as she'd straightened his bow-tie, and he'd brushed a lock of her hair behind her shoulder. It only now dawned on her just how long he had been waiting for her. Bones kissed him, hard.

"I love you, Booth," she said.

He paused, stunned, letting her voice fill the silence. He knew how she felt, or at least he'd hoped he did, but hearing the words from her lips, in her voice, he couldn't formulate words. He saw every moment they'd shared over the years in a new light. The touch on his arm at the cemetery in their first year working together, her comforting hand, wordlessly telling him that his past as a sniper was okay. Hugging her in the barn as she chanted her own name over and over, desperate to affirm that she was Temperance Brennan, not Joy. Endless drinks together, celebrating a case closed. Dancing to their song in her apartment, watching her sing in that godforsaken bar, unable to look away and finding so much delight in her confidence and freedom. It all seemed clearer. Brighter. Their past was alive.

"Say it again," Booth rasped, emotional.

Bones grazed his lips with her own, one hand on his hip, "I love you."

This time he kissed her, hard, and slid an arm under her waist. He pulled her tighter against him, deepening their connection and eliciting a groan from Brennan that raised goosebumps on Booth's arms. He was lost in her, surrounded by her scent, by the soft, inviting glow of her skin, the swollen red of her lips that begged to be kissed again and again. His broken heart that had ached for her for so long, the heart that had kept him up at night and crushed him during the day, it was finally in her hands. She had healed it with three words.

"I love you too," Booth replied, "Bones...Bones..."

He couldn't manage anything more, consumed with a need that scared him. Holding her in place, he listened as she cried out louder and louder, focused on the feel of her hands on his back pulling him towards her with every thrust. He adapted to her every need, knowing what she wanted as soon as she gestured, gasping against her mouth as her hips moved in a way he didn't think to be possible, intuitive to him, bringing him to the edge. He wanted release, he was desperate to get there with her and to watch his partner unravel around him in a way no one else had ever seen. To watch Temperance Brennan give in to them completely, to know that she felt the full force of his love. A particularly hitched intake of breath came, Bones' gaze seeking his, her fingers winding into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Booth, I-" She cut herself off with a groan, tugging sharply at his hair.

He sped closer to his breaking point, feeling her tighten around him, quivering. Heat raged at the base of his spine, down his legs. His mind was intoxicated with her. He gave three quick thrusts, and Brennan toppled, digging her nails into his shoulders. She arched into him, moaning and that was all Booth needed to follow her over the edge, capturing her lips with his, calling out her name like a mantra as he breathed. Foreheads pressed together, they watched as the other came apart, happily drowning in what they were, in what they would be together. Heart still thundering, Brennan grinned and panted and looked at Booth. He grinned back at her.

"Wow..." he looked lost for words. "Hi Bones."

"Hi Booth," she replied, equally lacking.

Booth chuckled, which made Brennan laugh, and then they both dissolved into cackles, amazed at what they'd done, sated and relieved, laughing at each other and at the line they'd crossed. Looking at Brennan, glowing and grinning, Booth had never loved her more.

Booth's phone buzzed on the bedside table, and abruptly, they landed back in the real world. Instantly, Brennan felt her eyes fill with tears, remembering the danger they were in, the loss that could rear its head at any moment. And now she knew what being loved by Booth felt like, she was terrified of what it would mean for her and for him.

"It's okay, Bones. I promise." Booth's voice was so steady, so sure. Brennan latched onto it with desperate hope.

"You can't promise that," she responded quietly, staring up at him. She knew every line of his face, the taste of him, the feel of his lips on her skin. She needed more of him, more of them. This had always been her fear, needing more than she could ever get.

He untangled them, kissing her forehead and reached for his phone. Brennan felt like a half a person when he moved away, his back facing her. She pulled the covers tightly around her knees and tucked it under her chin.

"I need to go into the office. A possible lead on Broadsky," he sighed, running his hand through his hair. He glanced at the clock and then at his partner, "it's nearly morning."

"You have to go." She said. It wasn't an order or a reassurance. It had no meaning, it was empty. Devoid of feeling and hope. Booth saw it all in her face, and he quickly sat so she was positioned between his legs. She nestled into him, placing her hand over the one of his that rested on her shoulder.

"I'll get him, Bones. I'll end this, and then we can go for a drink, like we always do when we close a case."

"Just come home, Booth." Brennan wept, breaking down quickly, "I just got you. You have to come home, you have to."

They kissed tearfully, full of hope and longing, needing more but unable to give in. Brennan wanted an absolute, a certainty, a fact – Booth was desperate to give it to her, but knew he couldn't. He traced the line of her jaw. I'll come home.

A meeting of their desires, their hopes, their frustrations, all coalesced in a glance between them when they pulled apart.

I love you, it said. Have faith.

Thank you for all your kind reviews, they really brighten my day! Please feel free to leave a few words of your thoughts. I'm always interested to hear what you think!