Author's Note: I have used a few lines of dialogue from the show in this chapter. The 'Gormogon' case is also mentioned here but I don't go into too much detail as it is not the focus of this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.

"It's time Doctor Brennan."

Doctor Jack Hodgins' words went unacknowledged. Temperance Brennan was tuning everything out, focussing solely on the remains in front of her. She knew what he meant, it was time for the funeral, but she wasn't going. She had made that abundantly clear to everyone.

She had managed a few hours sleep the night before last, the alcohol she had consumed finally allowing her to rest for a while. When she had woken up the next day, she realised that being in Angela's company had helped. The difference was almost negligible, but it had been enough for her to find some of her old self, even if it was only a tiny piece. She realised that being around people and completing her normal activities was going to be her path to healing. So here she was. Back in the lab, but not in Bone Storage. She was on the platform, working with Zack, examining a 16th century skeleton.

It was obvious even to Brennan that her colleagues were concerned about her, but she was doing her best not to acknowledge that fact. She had a job to do and that is what she must now concentrate on. Work had been the sole focus of her life for the majority of the past few years now and so it would continue to be. It was the only way she could move forward. It was all she had left.

"The metacarpal phalangeal joints are smooth, showing dexterity. Perhaps a musician…" Brennan said, more thinking out loud than speaking to anyone in particular.

"That's enough. We're going. Now." Dr Saroyan's voice close behind her almost startled Brennan. She had managed to tune almost everyone out apart from Zack.

It was Dr Camille Saroyan's 'I'm the boss' voice that she now used less frequently than she did at the beginning of her time at the Jeffersonian. In the early days of Cam's tenure as Head of Forensics, she had attempted to stamp her authority on what she saw as a chaotic group of scientists that needed to be kept in line. Brennan had butted heads with her a number of times before they came to a more mutual understanding of each other and since then, Brennan had rarely heard Cam use that tone of voice with her.

It had no impact on Brennan though at that moment. This was nothing to do with work and Cam had no right to try and force Brennan to attend Booth's funeral. It was her choice and her choice alone.

"I have remains to identify. He could have a family." Brennan said firmly without shifting her focus from the bones.

"He's 500 years old. They've probably adjusted by now." Angela's voice finally made Brennan lift her gaze from the table. She was surrounded by her friends and colleagues and Brennan knew they were all here for the same purpose; to make her go to the funeral.

"I'm not going. I've already made that clear." Brennan was getting increasingly agitated. She was finally getting a grip of her emotions. She was finally managing to compartmentalise them enough that she could perform her job and she was afraid that if she went to the funeral, it would negate every bit of her progress.

"It's Agent Booth's funeral, Dr Brennan. Losing a loved one is-"

Sweets' words riled Brennan even more. Even though he was correct about Booth being a loved one, he didn't know that, only Angela did. Who was he to assume anything about her feelings for Booth? She cut him off before he could add any further unsubstantiated speculative assumptions about her.

"A partner Sweets. I lost a partner."

"Ok then, someone close to you. The funeral allows you to grieve so you can come to terms with his death." Sweets continued, undeterred.

"The Arunta Aboriginal tribe in Australia grieve by burning down their village and moving to a new one. That seems no crazier to me than gathering around a hole in the ground." There was a hint of hysteria in Brennan's voice as she gesticulated with her hands, no longer able to completely contain her emotions. Anger was rising quickly inside her, fierce and substantial, and she found her hand clenching into a fist, furtively rising from her side.

Angela spotted the subtle change in Brennan's facial expression. The carefully impassive façade vanished from her eyes, replaced by a fire that Angela recognised and when she also saw her clenched hand creeping upwards, she knew exactly what was coming next. To save Sweets' face, she stepped towards her friend and firmly placed her hand on her arm, halting the progress of her fist.

"Brennan, a word."

"Excuse me? Professional psychologist." Sweets said, indignant that Angela thought she knew how to handle this situation better than he did.

Angela resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Sweets as she put one finger up to him to indicate to give her a minute. She was saving him from a busted nose, the least he could do was not argue.

She pulled Brennan to one side, far enough that they were out of ear shot of the others. "Look, I know how you see things, and I respect that. But Sweets is right, Booth was your loved one and you need to say goodbye to him."

The fire that Brennan felt just a moment ago evaporated, instantly replaced by the icy pain that had been her constant companion for the past two weeks. She didn't respond to Angela, instead she locked eyes with her, pleading silently with her not to make her go. But Angela didn't back down. Someone had to take control of this situation and it was going to have to be her. Brennan needed to go to the funeral, whether she wanted to or not. Angela knew what tactic she needed to deploy to achieve that, and she hated herself for even considering using it, but she was out of options.

She pushed Booth's funeral card into Brennan's hand. "I have to go to the funeral Bren. I can't get through this alone. I know that you loved him, but he was my friend too. I've been crying for days and I need your shoulder. I need my best friend."

A stab of pain in Brennan's chest took her breath away when she glanced down at the card in her hand to see Booth's smiling face staring back at her. She quickly looked away before she could be overcome by it. When she finally lifted her eyes back up to meet Angela's, she saw her brown eyes were glassy and filled with tears. Angela had helped her and been there for her these past two weeks and even though she didn't want to go, Brennan found she couldn't disregard Angela's plea for her support.

"Fine." Brennan huffed reluctantly before leaving the platform to go and get her coat.

0-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-0

Special Agent Seeley Booth was inexplicably nervous as he approached the cemetery where his 'funeral' was being held. This whole attending your own funeral thing was so weird and made him feel uneasy, almost like he was tempting fate by pretending to be dead. He saw the casket that was holding what he assumed was a mannequin instead of his body. He looked at it just long enough to ascertain that everything was as it should be then looked in the other direction, scanning the cemetery for any signs of his target. Booth just wanted to get this over with. Get his man and go home. Two weeks alone in the hospital and then the FBI safe house had almost driven him crazy and he was relieved that his time in isolation was over and he could go back to his life. Back to his apartment, back to his regular job, back to being a father, back to Bones.

The rifle he was carrying was heavy and that combined with the restrictive nature of his dress uniform were causing him some discomfort in the shoulder where he was shot. The wound was healing nicely according to the doctor who visited him at the safe house yesterday, but he still had stitches holding the wound together that were pulling on his skin and the whole thing was still sore.

Putting his discomfort and feelings of unease to one side, he tried to shift his focus back to the job at hand, scouring the area again for his target. But he kept being distracted by the mourners who were quietly making their way to the graveside. He was looking out for Bones especially and the other squints but there was no sign of them yet. He felt bad that the squints would have thought that he was actually dead. They were his team of squints and they had been through a lot together in the past three years. They were bound to feel at least a little upset at his supposed untimely demise, but there was nothing Booth could do about that. He'd had his orders and he had to obey them.

As he silently observed the mourners gathering at the grave, Booth couldn't help but feel a little dismayed that the only people who had bothered to turn up to his phony funeral were from work. Obviously, his family wouldn't be there, they knew he wasn't really dead. But he had thought that maybe an old girlfriend or two might have shown.

It was getting near to the time for the funeral to start when he spotted Bones and the squints. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her familiar figure in the distance, and he felt excitement growing inside him at the thought of finally being reunited with her. Especially considering how the last time they'd been together he had gotten shot and they had been unable to speak to each other since. He moved into position and watched surreptitiously from under his hat as Bones approached the grave. His excitement turned to alarm though when she got closer and he got a good look at her. Her face was pinched, her usually rosy complexion pale, and her sunken cheeks accentuated the dark circles under her eyes. Booth thought she also looked like she had lost at least 10 pounds, maybe more as her clothes hung from her thin, frail looking frame. She looked sick and Booth's heart suddenly began to race as he contemplated that it looked as if his girlfriend was seriously ill and nobody had told him. It dawned on him though that no one knew she was his girlfriend, they all still thought she was just his partner so they would have had no reason to tell him, making Booth begin to think that keeping their relationship a secret had been a mistake. If something bad had happened to Bones, he would have been none the wiser.

Booth averted his eyes as she got closer, trying not to catch her gaze and give the game away that he was here in disguise. More than ever now, he wanted and needed to get this done. As the priest began the service, one of his team of agents told him in his earpiece that the target was here in the cemetery and was approaching the grave from the north-west side. Booth put his concern for Bones to one side and concentrated intensely on the job at hand. It was time to finish this.

0-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-0

The sun was warm as it shone down through the trees at the cemetery, dappling the ground with fluctuating patches of gold. Brennan mused that it could be considered a beautiful day, not that it would make the occasion any less unpleasant. She was uncertain why people insisted on correlating the appropriateness of the type of weather with the suitability for a funeral. It was still a sad, miserable occasion, regardless of the weather.

Standing under the shade of the trees, surrounded by her friends and colleagues, Brennan averted her eyes from the casket in front of her and tuned out the words spoken by the priest. She understood that Booth was dead – she felt it in the crushing grief she experienced every day. Standing around a casket containing his remains, saying words he could no longer hear made no sense to Brennan. It provided no relief, no closure. All it did was serve to remind her of the devastating loss of the only man she had ever loved. Her tenuous hold on her emotions was slipping and she wasn't sure how much more of the funeral she could tolerate. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat and impatiently shuffled her feet, preparing to bolt as soon as she had the opportunity.

She bit down hard on her bottom lip as she heard Caroline Julien give the eulogy, some of the agitation she was feeling beginning to spill out of her. Caroline's mention that Booth made the ultimate sacrifice to save his partner tweaked Brennan's guilt about how he died, and she was unable to stop herself declaring to Angela that she would have happily taken the bullet. Angela's quiet "I know" did nothing to placate her, and then when Caroline mentioned God, it almost pushed Brennan over the edge as she felt her whole body vibrating with an overwhelming cacophony of emotions.

"If there were a merciful God, why wouldn't He have saved Booth?" Brennan questioned, even louder than before, not really aiming her question at anyone, but unable to contain the words that were at the source of her frustration.

Angela eyed her friend with sympathy and placed her hand on her arm, aiming to withhold any further outbursts.

Brennan needed to get out of there, but she was unsure how she could slip away without anyone noticing. She began to scan her surroundings, looking for an escape route. It was then that she spotted the man. His features were unremarkable and with the black coat he was wearing, he blended in well with the other mourners. What had caught Brennan's attention though was that he seemed out of place somehow. He was standing away from the other mourners close to a tree, holding a white rose. Brennan wondered if he was a member of Booth's family, but she couldn't understand why he would be standing so far away if he was and, more importantly, he bore no resemblance to Booth whatsoever. It was only then that Brennan noticed that it appeared that none of Booth's family were here. She had never met his brother or his grandfather, whom he had told her about on one of the many evenings they had spent together since becoming a couple, talking long into the night. But Brennan knew she would recognise a member of Booth's family without having ever met them because she would see the resemblance to Booth in their bone structure. Brennan quickly scoured the faces of the mourners and found no one who could be a close relative of her late partner. She at least expected Rebecca to be here with Parker, but they were also absent. Wouldn't his little boy need to say goodbye to him?

Before Brennan could give this troubling discovery any more thought, she was again distracted by the man near the tree. The guard of honour had stepped forward, but before they could fire their rifles for the 21-gun salute, the man approached the casket and was abruptly intercepted by one of the soldiers. Brennan watched in confusion as the men grappled with each other, eventually toppling the casket as they fought. Brennan didn't want to look as the casket fell open as it hit the ground. She didn't want her last memory of Booth to be of his dead body, but Brennan was astounded to see that instead of Booth's remains in the casket, there was a mannequin. She looked again at the fighting men, her brain not quite able to believe what her eyes were telling her, because beneath the hat and uniform, the fighting soldier was Booth.

A million emotions swept through Brennan's body at that moment. Relief, joy, confusion, anger, and betrayal were all fighting for dominance, but she was too distracted to acknowledge any of them. Instead, all she could see was that Booth was fighting and he was losing. Acting on her inherent instinct to protect her partner, she immediately approached the open casket and grabbed the mannequin's arm. The man threw a punch that floored Booth. Then, as he turned and reached for the gun on the ground that Booth had previously dislodged from his hand, Brennan lunged at him, taking a huge swing with the mannequin arm, hitting him on the head and knocking him out.

Anger swelled in her chest, thick and fierce. She threw the mannequin arm to the ground and all around her she could hear the shocked gasps of her friends as Booth got to his feet in front of her. Brennan couldn't quite believe it was him, and deep inside, somewhere beneath the anger and betrayal that were simmering beneath her skin, ready to erupt, she was overjoyed that he was alive. But she could not ignore the fact that he had clearly faked his death and let her believe for two weeks that he was dead.

"Nice shot Bones!" Booth said as he got to his feet in front of her, but before Brennan was really aware of her actions, her anger boiled over and her fist found its way to his face, landing a vicious punch on his jaw, knocking him back on the ground.

Brennan stomped away, leaving him there on the floor, too mad to even see if he got back up. Thoughts swirled through her head as she walked, trying to make sense of what just happened. She just couldn't understand why he had deceived her, why he had let her believe he was dead. Surely if he loved her like he said he did, he would have told her, wouldn't he?

She pulled her keys from her pocket and got in the car. She started the engine and sped away, not bothering to wait for her friends who had rode with her on the way to the cemetery. Her mind was clouded, making thinking difficult, leaving her alone with her emotions which were threatening to completely overwhelm her. She was just so angry, furious even. She had spent the last two weeks in hell, believing the most important person in her life had died trying to protect her. She wanted to know why she wasn't told. Even though nobody knew they were a couple, surely as his partner she still should have been told. His family had clearly been informed so why hadn't she? And why didn't Booth tell her himself? He must have had a way he could have contacted her, so why didn't he?

She drove around aimlessly for a while, taking the time to try and get a grip on herself, to try and quell the anger that was threatening to steal all rational thought. She eventually found her way back to the lab, parking her car in the underground lot and heading straight inside. When her whole world was in such disarray, she could always rely on her work to bring some much-needed order.

She was just pulling on her lab coat in her office when she heard his voice behind her.

"Bones?"

Despite her anger, after believing she would never hear him speak her name ever again, she felt relief when she heard his voice. But as she turned around to face him, she spotted the tablet on her desk with Rebecca's number still scrawled on the top sheet, serving as a reminder of what she had been through. She felt a fresh jolt of pain in her chest, searing her insides, like an aftershock of her grief rearing its ugly head.

She lifted her eyes to his face to see his warm brown eyes watching her with concern, but his demeanour was also cautious, like she was a cornered animal. He was still in the dress uniform, but he had unfastened some buttons on his jacket and shirt, and he was holding his hat in his hand.

"Are you ok, Bones?" Booth asked tentatively. He had gone straight here from the cemetery, allowing the other agents to take the man she had clubbed over the head into custody at the FBI. Booth would deal with him later because right now, he was incredibly worried about Bones. She still looked sick, but she was obviously very angry. As if her right hook hadn't been a big enough clue, he could also see it in her face, by the way her jaw was clenched and how her eyes seemed to be burning, like blue flames.

Brennan could see his concern and it confused her. Surely, he should have realised his 'death' would have done this to her.

She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down, careful to keep her expression neutral. "I'm fi-"

Booth interrupted before she could finish the word. "For God's sake, don't say you're fine. You're clearly not fine, Bones."

Brennan narrowed her eyes "Then why did you ask?"

"Because I'm concerned about you! I can see there's something wrong Bones and I wanna know why!"

"For someone who claims to be so astute at reading people, surely I shouldn't have to explain this to you." Brennan's voice was full of disdain. Was he doing this on purpose?

"Explain what, Bones? I thought you'd be happy to see me. I don't understand what I did to make you angry." Booth felt his chest tightening. He had a bad feeling in his gut. It seemed to know something his mind had not yet registered. His eyes moved almost imperceptibly as he surveyed her office, looking for clues, anything that might tell him what the hell was happening here. Her office looked how it always did – mummy in a glass case, couch with pillows and a blanket folded neatly on the back, and her vast collection of knick-knacks and books on the shelves. Everything was neat and tidy, apart from her desk. Papers and files were piled high in messy heaps, like people had been bringing them to her for her to sign or action and she had ignored them. There were also several mugs of what looked like tea accumulated on the desk, the majority of which looked untouched. All were signs that Bones had been suffering a great deal of emotional stress and Booth could only assume it was his two-week disappearance that had caused it. He felt stricken with guilt, deeply remorseful that he had been too out of it in the hospital to refuse to go along with the plan to fake his death. He knew her better than anyone and he should have known she would have found it difficult to pretend he was dead.

Brennan couldn't understand what was happening either. Did Booth really think she would be ok with thinking he was dead? Did he really expect everything to just go back to normal now? Like he hadn't just inflicted on her the worst pain she had ever felt? Angry tears sprang to her eyes. She looked at the ceiling, attempting to stem the flow and took a deep breath. "You. Were. Dead." Each enunciated word was punctuated by the tremor in the voice as she tried to curb her anger into submission.

All the breath left Booth's body in an appalled gasp. Finally, he understood. It all made sense now. The anger, the weight loss, the messy desk, the haunted look on her face… She wasn't sick, she was grieving. Grieving him. She wasn't told. She thought he was actually dead, and Booth completely understood why she was so angry, because so was he. In fact, he was furious, and he swore that whoever neglected to tell her the truth was going to pay. He was going to make sure of it.

At that moment though, his priority was Bones and he instinctively moved towards her, wanting to comfort her. He dumped his hat on her desk and raised his arms, aiming to wrap them around her. He had spent the last two weeks unable to see or even talk to her, and he yearned to touch her, especially now, but she stepped away from him.

"Don't." She warned.

Tears were now spilling freely from her eyes and her bottom lip was between her teeth. Booth could see her body shaking with the exertion of holding in sobs. He dropped his arms, and even though her rejection stung, he understood. He felt his own eyes fill with tears seeing how distressed she was, and he felt like his breathing was constricted, like he had a python wrapped around his chest, squeezing ever tighter when he thought about how she must have felt these past two weeks.

"Bones… I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

Brennan gave a disbelieving laugh. "You didn't know this is how I would feel if you were dead?"

"No! No, Temperance. I didn't know you weren't told. The Bureau, when I got shot, they wanted to fake my death to catch this guy I drove underground. I wrote them a list – a list of people to inform that I wasn't really dead. You were first on that list, I swear."

Booth's heart was pounding, and he was trembling with anger and fear. He was ordinarily a pretty fearless guy. He'd been in the army for years in warzones. He'd been shot several times, he'd been captured and tortured, he'd stared into the face of death often, and when you have experienced all of that and survived, there isn't much left to be afraid of. The only thing he was really afraid of was losing Bones, and at that moment, he feared that was exactly what was happening. His major fear for a long time had been that he would fail to protect her, and she would die at the hands of a criminal like she could have that night in the Checker Box.

Their new relationship had added another layer to Booth's dread though. He had always hoped he would be wrong, but since the beginning, he had been prepared for something to freak her out. Something that might make her want out of their relationship. He always thought that whatever it was, they would overcome it, that they would find a way. But now, he was afraid that this had been too much for her to bear, that the damage was too deep, that there was no coming back from it.

Brennan cut a sorrowful figure, standing in the middle of her office, shoulders slumped, tears still running in rivulets down her cheeks, and Booth felt his heart breaking just looking at her. He wasn't going to let her go without a fight. He was going to fight for her, for them. He had to. It would kill him to lose her. Losing her would succeed where Pam Nunan's bullet had failed, and he would end up in that box in the ground for real.

"Please Bones, you've gotta believe me. I would never have gone along with it if I thought they weren't gonna tell you." He took a step closer to her imploring her to trust what he was telling her. "Please Bones, I love you. I would never hurt you this way. Ever."

Brennan wanted to believe him. Before, she had always believed he wouldn't hurt her, and he had never given her a reason to doubt that. But that was before. Before all this pain. There was so much she didn't understand, so much that didn't make sense. But what hurt the most, was that he hadn't tried to find a way to make sure she knew. If the situation had been reversed, she wouldn't have been satisfied until she had ascertained for certain that he knew the truth.

"You could have told me yourself, Booth." Brennan retorted acerbically, her words an accusation.

"I couldn't, Bones! They took my phone, and I was being watched by two agents 24 hours a day. It would have broken protocol and the mission would have been a bust. I would've been breaking the law and I would have been fired! They told me to write a list, so I did. I had no reason to believe they weren't gonna tell you. Do you honestly believe that if I knew they hadn't told you that I'd let you think I was dead?"

"I don't know what to think, Booth! We've been partners for three years and you've broken protocol before – sometimes putting my life in danger! Which makes sense to me now, because you clearly don't have any real concern for me, never mind love me!"

Booth felt the heat of anger and disbelief inch through his body. How could she doubt his feelings for her, like the past months or even years, meant nothing? How could she even give utterance to the words that tore through his heart like a poison arrow?

"Bones…" His tone was reproachful, wanting to immediately correct her misconceptions but he was interrupted before he could say anything to correct this situation that was getting desperately out of hand.

"Dr Brennan?" Zack said hesitantly from the doorway of her office.

Brennan froze at the sound of Dr Addy's voice, wondering how long he had been at the door to her office and how much of their conversation he had heard. She swiftly wiped her face with the sleeve of her lab coat and stepped around Booth towards the door.

"What is it, Zack?" Brennan asked, almost glad for the distraction.

Booth groaned internally, his chin dropping to his chest in defeat. Leave it to Brennan's hapless assistant to interrupt them at this crucial moment.

Zack felt awkward. He had clearly interrupted something between his mentor and her intimidating FBI agent partner, but he knew Dr Brennan would want to know right away about the package that had arrived for her that he was holding in his hands.

"Someone left a package for you." Zack said as he handed the brown paper wrapped box to Brennan.

Booth turned his head to see Bones leave her office, heading for the forensic platform with the package. He felt physically sick, to the point where he almost reached for the trashcan behind the desk. He was struggling to completely understand where it had all gone wrong. This morning, he had been secure in the knowledge that today was the day his life would go back to normal, and yet now, it was whirling further out of control. He took a deep breath attempting to quell his nausea and turned around to follow Bones onto the platform. His gut was telling him that right now, she was a flight risk, and he knew he needed to stay close in order to do whatever it took to stop that from happening.

Booth made it onto the platform in time to see the whole squint squad assembled, still dressed in their funeral clothes, watching as Bones opened the package. She had pulled on a pair of latex gloves and had removed the brown paper wrapping. He peered over her shoulder as she opened the lid and inhaled a sharp breath when he saw what was inside.

"It's a mandible." Brennan said as she held the box closer to her face in order to examine the bone closer without touching it.

Booth added his own observation "And two silver screws."

Hodgins interjected then, but not before giving Booth a curious sideways glance. Booth hadn't spoken to any of the squints since his fake funeral and Hodgins clearly had questions. "Silver screws as in…"

"Gormogon." Booth finished with a frustrated sigh. Bones gave him a disapproving glance. He knew she hated it when he jumped to conclusions but there was really no other explanation for it. He turned and left the platform to make a call. He was going to need the assistance of the FBI lab because the Jeffersonian lab was now a crime scene. He rubbed his brow as he waited for the call to connect and took a quick peek back over at the woman he loved to see she had turned her back on him, concentrating fully on the new piece of evidence from the secret society hating, serial killing cannibal that was Gormogon. It was an unwanted distraction and Booth hoped it wasn't going to prevent him from having the opportunity to make things right with Bones before she did something that would change both their lives forever.