I know it's been ages, please forgive me. I've moved house and had deadlines but I will get the next one to you much faster. It's going to start getting darker from here. I apologise in advance. DISCLAIMER: I really don't own Bones.

A bright landscape. White ground and white sky that stretched far ahead in every direction. Brennan shielded her eyes from the glare, noting a spot in the distance on the horizon and quickly began moving towards it. It was important that she got there. It called to her. Something was there.

She ran, retinas seared by the light, eyes streaming with tears as a sharp wind cut against her face. Soon, tributaries of red meandered either side of her path, and the ground shook with her every step. She knew what the source of the bloody river would be. She desperately didn't want to come across it, but knew she had no choice but to keep going. Brennan ran faster, chest heaving and beginning to cry. She could see him. She willed it not to be true, but the red around her deepened, the unmistakeable colour that preceded death. Not him. Please, not him. Please.

Booth was the island in the sea of white, blood gushing from his chest. It poured in thick, dark rivulets, nearly black, onto the ground. Brennan finally reached him, collapsing onto her knees by his side and pressed her hands as hard as she could into his wound; a feeble attempt to stop the catastrophic flow, made knowing that it wouldn't work. She met Booth's eyes, normally so warm and reassuring, now cold and lifeless. He was grey, his mouth hanging as if he was crying out with no sound.

"Don't go, please, Booth, please don't go," Brennan sobbed over and over, hysterical, pushing down harder on his chest. She watched blood trail from the corner of his mouth, down his cheek. He grew cold beneath her hands. "No, no, no..."

She pressed her lips to his, as if she could heal him but when she pulled away, Booth was dead.

All she had left was blood on her teeth.

Screaming.

Booth jolted awake at the sound of his partner's cries, reaching for her immediately as her voice turned hoarse. She was still partly asleep, face streaked with tears and drenched in sweat, slick to the touch. She tried to wrestle out of his grasp, panicked.

"Bones! Bones, it's me. It's me, it's Booth," he managed to get a hold of her shoulders, "look at me, Bones. You're okay. It was just a dream."

Brennan sobbed into her chest, shaking violently. Booth shuffled closer, his heart breaking at the sight of her. She didn't try to speak. She was as rigid as a board in his arms but Brennan allowed Booth to slip an arm beneath her knees and swing her across his lap. Booth wrapped himself around her as tightly as he could, rocking her gently, kissing her face. Minutes passed, until finally Brennan could breathe again.

"It was just a dream, baby, just a dream," Booth murmured in her ear. He was relieved when Brennan slipped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. "What was it about?"

She shook her head, and choked out a noise that sounded like 'no'. Booth kissed her hair several times, an attempt to soothe her.

"Talking about it will help," he pressed softly.

Again, she shook her head, "I can't."

He pulled back to look at her face, and Brennan shied away from his eyes, not used to having a spectator to her pain. She had cried like this before, but it had always been alone. Throughout foster care and all of her adult life, no one had ever seen her like this. Until Booth. The image of him in her dream had left her stomach churning. She would never not see his mouth hanging as the shadow of death approached him. Booth studied Brennan's face, trying to decipher her thoughts. He had an inkling that she had dreamed about him, and not in the way he liked. It had been years since his fake death, and even more since the Gravedigger case, but he knew that Brennan still suffered from nightmares. He had too, when she was buried alive.

"Okay," Booth agreed, "you don't have to talk about it. Just let me..."

He guided her down, cocooned in his arms. Brennan rested her head on his chest, listening intently to the beat of his heart, much like their first night together. He was warm beneath her hands, so warm. She spread her hands over him, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed. His fingers found hers and he squeezed gently.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

She closed her eyes and tried to shut everything out.

Brennan closed the door to her office at 8am and took her cup of coffee to her desk, careful not to spill any more of her beverage than she already had. She was furious for no particular reason, finding that too many reasons existed to pinpoint just one as the culprit for her sour mood. The sheer volume of her angst was clouding her mind. Dropping down into her chair, Brennan knew it would be a long day. With there still being no active FBI case for her to work on, it was back to her original job description – identifying the remains of those no one else could identify. Her ability in most things was superior to others, but this was her calling, and she was the best in the world at her job. She did look forward to the quiet of the bone room, to the challenge that awaited in the bone archive situated in the bowels of the Jeffersonian. Perhaps it would brighten her mood to solve a mystery that only she could solve.

Brennan donned her lab coat and headed for the bone archive. She was glad not to see anyone as she walked past the platform, it being slightly too early for her colleagues to be at work. She was sure that everyone would irritate her, and something that Booth had taught her since they'd met was that she should try not to snap at others just because she was feeling 'tetchy'. It was best that she should remove herself from others. She paused on the steps down to the archive, wishing Booth was at the Jeffersonian with her. Part of her wanted to spend the day cataloguing every inch of his face and committing its structure to memory; whereas another part couldn't bear to look at him, now that she knew the terrible image from her dream. The fear of that dream was a stone in her gut that wouldn't shift. It rolled and bruised her insides with every breath. She sat down on a step, desperate to steady herself, eyes stinging with unwanted tears. Why did it feel like Booth was gone all over again? She'd awoken that morning in his arms. Booth was very much alive, and with her. She didn't understand why she was in so much turmoil. Irritated again, she stood and continued down into the archive. She wanted distraction.

The next three hours passed with little consequence. Brennan heard the lab come to life around 9am, the whirring of the doors as they opened and closed, the chatter of people. She worked on a set of remains, a soldier from the Civil War. Dr Hodgins could be heard across the atrium when he was especially enthralled by particulates, and she regularly heard the tenor of his voice. No one came down to find her, which was exactly what she needed. Soon enough, she found that she almost felt like herself again. Returning to her office at 11am, she checked her phone. A message from Booth.

Lunch at noon?

She replied quickly, Yes. See you then.

She felt an urge to see him sooner, like an hour might take too long. Would it be foolish to go to his office to snatch a few minutes alone when she would be seeing him in an hour anyway? She thought that it would, but still wanted to go. She dithered for a few moments, staring at the message she'd just sent. Eventually, she decided to wait. Seeing Booth in the familiar setting of the diner would help to dispel the unpleasant images from her dream that still lingered. She had been slightly off with him that morning when they'd said goodbye, though she didn't think that she'd been unpleasant, just different. Waking up in bed together, she felt that he was very far away and she was the one who had made it so. It was not something she knew how to rectify. She would have to find a way.

When Brennan arrived, Booth was already sitting at their table. With a cup of coffee in his hands, another cup waited opposite him, expecting her. She saw him notice her as she entered the diner, and noted the unmistakeable spark in his eyes as he took her in, his face lighting up. All of the morning's tension melted away and Brennan easily returned the smile. He looked very attractive in his suit, she had thought so earlier but had been too addled to tell him, and he was looking at her with such warmth that Brennan wanted to kiss him.

"You look very nice today, Booth," she said as she sat down. Her hands instantly went on the table, hoping to brush his hand without being too conspicuous.

Booth's eyebrows shot up, "why thank you, Bones. What brought that on?"

She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee, "I didn't tell you this morning when I should have done." Brennan considered her next words carefully, "I should like you to take it off later."

Booth inhaled his drink, spluttering into his hand. Brennan leaned forward in alarm as he continued to cough. Other people in the diner cast a glance in their direction, wondering what was causing such a commotion. He started to laugh as soon as his airway cleared.

"Excuse me," Booth laughed hoarsely.

"You are excused," Brennan replied, leaning back, "given you have made quite a scene."

"Well, I don't know what else you expected. Give me a little warning next time."

"Warning for what?"

He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, "I don't know, maybe let me know that you want to undress me when there aren't people around?"

"Oh," Brennan said with a snap of realisation, "I see. I didn't think of that."

"It's fine, Bones, just remember for next time," he winked playfully, and surreptitiously pressed his knee against hers beneath the table.

The contact was welcome, and Brennan used her little finger to quickly touch his. Another secret, just for the two of them. She was shocked at how much she wanted to kiss him. Without thinking, she bit her lip.

"Don't do that," Booth asked, barely audible. His eyes sought hers, and she recognised his expression. She had seen it several times now, and she wanted to see it again until she lost count.

"I'm sorry," Brennan said quietly, flushing, "I'm just..."

Booth waited for her to finish her thought, the tiniest smile at the corner of his mouth.

She cleared her throat, feeling completely out of her depth. She was continually surprised at how much Booth's eyes affected her, more so now that their partnership had developed. This effect had always been there, but they had removed any social barriers preventing its full power from being known. Brennan knew that now the parameters of their relationship had expanded, she wasn't fighting all of the emotions she had spent so much energy fighting before. Every nuance of him that had moved her then, that she had tried to ignore with all of her mental fortitude, now moved her with no effort at all. Where were the words for this feeling?

"Are you alright?" Booth asked, smile gone, his brow creased with concern.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine," Brennan said, unconvincingly. What was it that she had said to Angela to make her choke on her tea? I'm very much in love with Booth. And all of the fear and confusion that love brought with it were making themselves known. She had a talent for making the drinking of hot beverages impossible.

Booth looked at his watch, and made a decision.

"Come on, let's go," he stood up, straightening his suit jacket and reaching inside his wallet. He dropped a ten dollar bill on the table. "I've got those files you left in my car. You said you needed them back today."

It was Brennan's turn to frown, "I've never left any of my files in your car."

"Sure you did, come on. We'll go and get 'em," he insisted, gesturing for her to rise from her chair. "So forgetful, Bones, do you really not remember?"

Brennan was ushered out of her seat, much to her consternation, "Booth, I did not leave any files in your car. My memory is infallible."

He threaded her arm through his and led her out of the diner, back towards the multi-storey next to the Hoover Building. He ignored her complaints and her obvious confusion until they were out of earshot of other pedestrians. The crowds thinned as they neared the entrance.

"You didn't leave any files in my car, Bones. We both know that."

"Yes, I'm fully aware of this, Booth, but you clearly haven't been listening," Brennan bit back at him. "What are we doing?"

Booth said nothing and continued to lead her towards his car. There were fewer vehicles than Brennan expected, but given it was lunch time, she assumed that it was due to people eating outside of work. Booth's car was parked in a corner of the structure, with the passenger side door against the wall. He brought her behind the car.

"Would you stand in that corner please?" He gestured for her to move past him, "and stand with your back against the wall?"

Brennan huffed in disbelief, "have you lost your mind?"

"No," Booth bartered, "but I'm about to."

He guided her to the wall and Brennan was too puzzled to do anything about it, finding herself where he had wanted. Quickly, Booth turned and opened the trunk. She realised it was not his usual car. The door to this trunk was more like a passenger door, swinging open horizontally rather than vertically. It nearly met the wall to Brennan's right, effectively creating a small room where they couldn't be seen. She looked up. No CCTV in sight.

"Booth, what is going on?" she asked. "Why did you bring me here?"

He was so close, so quickly that his sudden proximity set Brennan alight, every fibre of her being scorched with need. Her breathing hitched, and Booth felt her reaction, knowing there were few things that were better. He cupped her jaw with his hand.

"Well, I can't kiss you in the diner, can I?"

His lips were on hers before she could reply. A long inhale as they savoured each other, broken when Booth wound his arm around her waist and pulled her more tightly against his chest. Brennan slid her hand up his arm, grabbing hold of his hair. Her heart pounded, her head swimming with the taste of him as their lips moved. Sparks of fire from their love-making the night before flickered as Brennan parted her lips, and Booth groaned quietly. He felt like it had been eons since he had last kissed her. It was crazy to think it had only been a few hours. This would take some getting used to, but part of him thought he would never be used to the woman of his dreams finally being in his arms, pressing her hips against his as he deepened the kiss, pushing harder, wanting more. Neither Brennan nor Booth could stop, catching breaths when they could. She tugged at his hair, and Booth responded by pressing her against the rear wall. Shielded by their makeshift room, Brennan couldn't help herself. She broke away, kissing his jaw, down his neck, and then back to his lips. Her urgency didn't go unnoticed, and Booth hoped she could feel just how much she was loved when his gestures softened, squeezing her hip, tangling his other hand in her hair. I'm here. I've got you. Brennan hugged him beneath his jacket, feeling the firm muscles of his back. She found her lips were trembling beneath his, overwhelmed. I don't know what I'd do. And then she was kissing him through tears. Booth pulled back, worried.

"Hey," he said gently, using the tip of his index finger to brush a tear off her cheek, "is my kissing that bad?"

Brennan snickered tearfully, and Booth was glad to see that he could still make her laugh when she clearly wasn't doing so well. He cracked a smile as she leant into him, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Booth locked his arms around her, wishing he could help more.

"I don't know why I'm so tearful. I'm sorry," she said.

Booth couldn't believe his ears. She was a genius in almost every way, almost.

"Bones, three days ago, your intern died in your arms," Booth murmured, not wanting to speak the words too loudly. It didn't feel right giving such a statement much voice. "It's gonna take some time to bounce back from that. Cut yourself some slack, and don't apologise for crying. Ever. There's no need." He kissed her temple, and tilted his head so it touched hers.

Brennan considered this. Three days since the bullet meant for Booth had shattered glass and killed Vincent instead. Thinking of Vincent certainly made her want to cry, but it was more complicated than that. This felt like grief tangled with something else.

"I think what bothers me most is that Vincent likely would've contributed much to the field of Anthropology had he lived. His death gives nothing to the world. It just takes away, and that makes me uncomfortable. I don't know how to make sense of that," Brennan said, fiddling with the collar of Booth's shirt. She was so sure that everything had an answer, but she couldn't see it here.

"There's no making sense of it. There's no decent reason or explanation for why Vincent is gone. The only balance we can find is that Broadsky is never gonna be a free man again."

"Don't say his name," Brennan bristled, closing her eyes, "he doesn't deserve it."

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm sorry."

A moment of quiet. Brennan remembered Vincent's face, alive with excitement and hope for the future when they discussed their upcoming presentation. She gasped at her realisation, one that was obvious but one she had not yet considered.

"We'll never get to present our paper at the Palaeontology conference."

Booth held her as she sobbed.

Thanks for bearing with me. Leave me a little review and let me know your thoughts. Next update will be soon!