Temperance Brennan woke up on the couch in her office, the events of the last 48 hours rushing through her head all at once, overwhelming her, causing her to catch her breath. She should be feeling so happy, so relieved, but all she felt was a crushing sense of sadness.

She hadn't intended to sleep in her office last night and she didn't remember falling asleep either. She had felt so numb after Booth left and maybe that was what had helped her sleep. Because right now, she was certain that this intolerable ache filling her chest would prevent her from sleeping ever again.

Pushing herself up into a seated position, she glanced through the office window over her shoulder, trying to see if anyone was in the lab yet. Checking her watch, she saw it was nearly 8 am meaning her colleagues would be arriving soon. She rose from the couch, grabbed her purse from the chair beside her desk and headed for the bathroom. If she could make herself presentable, maybe no one would notice she was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

The bright artificial lighting in the bathroom seemed to illuminate every dark circle and shadow on her face. All the grief and stress had really taken its toll on her, and she wondered how long it would take for her to recover. Her eyes dropped from the mirror she was staring into to the white basin below as she realised that she wouldn't recover while ever the situation with Booth was unresolved. Sighing deeply, she continued with her task. She washed her face and carefully reapplied her make-up, paying particular attention the purple crescents under her eyes, then brushed her hair and tied it into a ponytail.

When she was satisfied that she had done a good enough job of making herself look less dishevelled, she left the bathroom and went back to her office. She slipped on her lab coat and headed straight down to Bone Storage. She needed something to concentrate on and the unresolved cases of the remains down in Limbo had always been her sanctuary, and it still was, despite the fact that it now also held some particularly painful memories from the past few weeks.

There were at least three sets of remains that she had started analysing while she believed Booth to be dead that still needed a lot of work doing on them, but she couldn't face those right now. She needed something fresh, something to immerse herself in that wouldn't prompt any agonising recollections of the time when she thought the only person she had ever been in love with was gone forever. Selecting a new set of remains that had only been brought into the lab a couple of months ago, she got to work.

Brennan had been working with the bones for a few hours when her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten yet that day. She still had no real appetite though -despite her stomach's protests- and she was beginning to wonder if it was ever going to return, or if she was always going to have to force herself to eat. While the grief she felt now was still intense and causing several inconvenient physical side effects such as her inability to eat, she marvelled at how knowing Booth was alive now allowed her to concentrate, to escape the torture even if just for a couple of hours.

She didn't know what she was going to do now about her situation with Booth. What is the correct course of action? Should she call him? Would he even answer? She was certain he would still be angry, but angry enough not to speak to her? Would there be any point in calling him if she was still uncertain what she wanted? Probably not. It would likely only make him angrier. If only she could overcome this terror that had taken root inside her. This feeling that continuing in a relationship with Booth would be the end of her. For so long, she had only relied upon herself, the only decisions to consider her own. If she were to allow herself to become so reliant on another person, even someone she loved, wasn't she losing the autonomy over her own life that she cherished so profoundly?

She braced her hands against the table in front of her and shook her head, feeling the anguish that she'd had a brief respite from creeping back up on her. She should have given more thought to this before. Before she had acted on impulse, going to his apartment that night. This is what had always held her back and it gave her no satisfaction to be proved right.

Her stomach growled again, and she realised her empty stomach was making her feel nauseous. She needed to find something to drink or some food, anything to settle her stomach. She headed upstairs to the lounge, trying not to think about the memories it evoked of Zack and last night. So much had happened in a short space of time and she hadn't had any time to process it. She hadn't even been thinking about Zack that morning and she suddenly felt incredibly guilty about that. Maybe, if she hadn't been so wrapped up in her relationship with her partner, and she had paid more attention to Zack, she might have spotted something in her assistant's behaviour that could have indicated what he was doing. Who am I kidding? She thought ruefully. Body language and unconscious signals were Booth's domain, not hers. She had never been much good at reading the unconscious signals that people gave out. Zack could have been emitting many indicators that revealed he had become Gormogon's new apprentice, and the chances are Brennan would not have noticed, regardless of how preoccupied she was.

Suppressing the urge to cry, Brennan picked up the cup of tea she had just made and went back downstairs towards her office. She was going to have to compartmentalise her feelings about her assistant just like she always had done before. She was not allowed to visit or call Zack at the hospital and there was nothing else she could do to help him now. She had entrusted Caroline Julien with seeing to it that he was going to be sent to a psychiatric institution instead of prison and she wouldn't be able to communicate with him until she knew where he was going be sent to. Brennan knew she wasn't to blame for Zack's mistakes, but that didn't stop the guilt she felt over his situation from piling up on top of her grief over the demise of her relationship with Booth.

She had been sitting at her desk sipping her tea while replying to a few emails for all of five minutes when Angela walked in, the tinkling sound of her long silver necklace swinging as she walked alerting Brennan to her presence. One look at Angela's raised eyebrow and disapproving expression told Brennan that she had been unsuccessful in her earlier mission to disguise the evidence of the negligence of her personal care.

"What gives, Sweetie? How come you're here and why do you look like hell?" Angela said as she settled into a chair at the other side of the desk.

"Why shouldn't I be here, Angela?" Brennan asked, deliberately ignoring the comment about how she looked.

"Well, for one thing, yesterday was hugely stressful - for all of us, but especially for you after everything you've been through recently. But also, I thought you and Booth would've been locked in the bedroom by now, making up for lost time." She said with a salacious grin. "I thought that's why you weren't answering your cell."

Brennan felt the blood drain from her face when Angela mentioned Booth and her eyes involuntarily dropped to the desk in front of her, tears welling in her eyes. She frequently underestimated Angela's intuitive abilities; however, it would appear this time that she had not worked out yet what had happened between her and Booth the previous evening. "I - I'm sorry. The battery on my phone must be empty." She said quietly, suddenly realising that she wasn't sure where her cell phone even was.

Angela watched as her best friend's face changed from having a little colour in her cheeks to suddenly ashen and was immediately alarmed. She shifted forward in the chair, leaning closer, trying to get a read on what was really going on.

"Hey, I don't care about that, Brennan. Tell me what's wrong. What's happened to Booth?"

"Nothing. I'm sure Booth is fine." Brennan said, sniffing away the unshed tears.

Angela narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, you're sure Booth is fine? Don't you know how he is? Haven't you seen him or spoken to him recently?"

"Not since last night." Brennan said in the steadiest voice she could muster, but she couldn't fool Angela. She had managed to keep the catastrophe that was last night to herself up to now, but she knew that was about to change. Angela was just too tenacious to let it go.

Angela could see in her best friends' face, in the downturned corners of her mouth and the unshed tears that were shimmering in her eyes that something was going on. She just couldn't figure out exactly what that was. "Sweetie, please just tell me what the hell is happening here." She said, frustrated, her tone sounding a little harsher than she had intended.

"I…" Brennan hesitated. Unsure of where to start or what she wanted to say – or even if she wanted to say anything at all. But then she reminded herself of Angela's tenacity and gave up trying to hide. "I think it's over between us."

Angela's jaw popped open in surprise. "What…?" She shook her head, trying to comprehend what Brennan was telling her because it made no sense. "He left you? Why?" Angela asked, jumping to the only conclusion that made any sense because she could not think of a reason why someone who had spent the past two weeks grieving for someone like Brennan had would break up with that person when it transpired that they were actually still alive.

"No, Ange." Brennan corrected her, shaking her head.

Angela's eyes widened then narrowed as what Brennan said finally sank in. "Why would you do that, Brennan? I thought you loved him? I mean you've spent the last two weeks grieving like you lost the most important thing in the world, and now you're telling me that now he's alive and here, you broke up with him?!" Angela said, her voice raising along with her level of incredulity.

"It's not that simple." Brennan protested, even though she knew her friend was right.

"It looks pretty simple to me! Just… why? Please tell me why Sweetie. Just so I can understand. Did he cheat on you or something?" That would make sense, Angela thought. Although it wasn't something she thought Booth would ever do, especially not to Brennan.

"No! He didn't cheat. Booth wouldn't do that." Brennan paused, not wanting to continue but she knew Angela wouldn't allow her to not give a full explanation. "It's because I'm afraid." Her voice a hoarse whisper. "I'm afraid of getting that deep in with him again because one day, he will die, and I don't think I can live through that again."

Angela's face softened at Brennan's heartfelt confession and she reached across the desk to grab her hand. "Well, you know what, Brennan? You're right. One day, Booth will die. But so will you, so will all of us. This job demonstrates that to us every single day. But let me ask you this - you love him, right?"

Brennan nodded her head. "Yes." She said cautiously, Angela's unexpected understanding of her fear making her uncertain where she was going with this.

"I think you have always loved him, Sweetie. And don't try to deny it." Angela warned as she saw Brennan's mouth pop open to protest. "I know what I saw between you two, even before I knew you were together. But do you honestly think you would have felt any less devastated if you hadn't been a couple when he faked his death? Would you grieve any less if you stick with your decision to end it and something ends up happening to him? You will always love him, Sweetie. No matter what happens between you. Trust me."

Angela's question brought Brennan up short. Making her reconsider her viewpoint for a moment. She had never believed that love was anything other than ephemeral, temporary. But having experienced love, having felt it for herself, how deep it went, how much it changed her, she knew Angela was right. She would always love Booth and she would not grieve any less no matter how long they'd been apart. She would always feel his absence, regardless of the status of their relationship.

"You are correct, Angela. I would still be consumed by grief no matter what. Even if it had happened before we were a couple. I may have been able to compartmentalise it more effectively, but I would have mourned him just the same." She finally admitted.

Angela smiled softly and squeezed Brennan's hand. "Then, why would you waste the opportunity to be together? To be happy. You only get one life Sweetie. Don't spend the rest of it in sadness because you're afraid."

Brennan knew what Angela was saying made sense. Why was she doing this to herself? The last few months with Booth had been some of the happiest she had ever experienced. She had simply got to come to terms with the fact that her happiness was now intrinsically linked to Booth. That she had lost a certain amount of control on that aspect of her life and if she didn't concede that control then she would never be truly happy.

Slipping her hand from Angela's grasp, Brennan reached for the phone on her desk. She wanted to put right what she had gotten wrong and call Booth right now. She needed to tell him she had made a mistake. But before she could make the call, someone cleared their throat at the door, interrupting the moment and grabbing her attention. Brennan turned her head to face whoever was standing there, almost expecting and hoping for it to be Booth. But instead, it was Dr Sweets.

"Dr Brennan? Can I talk to you for a minute?" He said quietly. Brennan was irritated, she wanted to call Booth, now. But something about Sweets' demeanour stopped her from telling him to leave. He looked tired and almost childlike in his uneasy stance by the door making Brennan wonder what had happened to make him appear at her office door looking that way.

Angela, surmising that this was a private conversation, rose from the chair. But before she left, she wanted to make sure Brennan made the call she was clearly about to make. She turned back to her best friend and said "Call him Sweetie. Promise me." Satisfied with Brennan's nodded acquiescence, Angela walked away, leaving Dr Sweets alone with Brennan.

"What do you want Dr Sweets?" Brennan asked, unsuccessful in keeping the irritation about his untimely interruption from her voice.

Sweets noticed that she hadn't deviated from the same way she had greeted him every time he had seen her these past few days and it almost made him smile. It was that kind of consistency that had convinced him that Dr Brennan would be fine with what he had decided to withhold from her. If only he'd looked a little deeper, read more into Booth and Brennan's interactions with each other. If only they'd just trusted him enough to confide in him about their affair. With that knowledge there was no way he would have made the same decision and he wouldn't now be in this difficult position.

He had been outside her office door for a few moments before he made his presence known and he couldn't help but overhear what Dr Brennan and Angela were talking about. He felt a modicum of relief that it appeared that Dr Brennan was going to call Agent Booth. Sweets had never seen the surly FBI agent so emotional, so enraged. But Sweets understood why he felt that way, and he had to admit, that if the same thing had been done to him, he would feel the same.

"I, er, I came to apologise." Sweets said hesitantly.

Brennan's eyebrow quirked up in surprise. "Apologise for what?"

Sweets was shocked that she didn't seem to already know what he was about to admit and apologise for. He had genuinely expected Booth to have at least tried to inform her about his transgression, regardless of her not wanting to speak to him. Sweets cleared his throat before explaining. He was nervous. Dr Brennan was a scary woman and she intimidated him almost as much as, if not more than, her gruff FBI agent partner. "I'm apologising because it was me who made the decision to keep the truth about Booth's situation from you."

Brennan stared at him silently as his words sank in, and a shock of anger began to rise rapidly through her body.

Sweets attempted to clarify, interpreting her silence as confusion. "I was responsible for informing the contacts on his list that he was alive and that his death was just a ruse to catch a criminal. As it was a matter of national security, it was my job to vet the contacts. The fewer people that knew that Booth was alive, the safer he would be. It was my opinion that it wasn't necessary for you to know, that you would be able to compartmentalise his death. If I'd have known that you two were in a relationship, I never would have considered not telling you the truth."

Brennan felt like the world had shifted under her feet. She was surprised that Sweets had found out about their relationship and she wondered who had told him. But her overriding emotion in that moment was outrage at what he had done to her and Booth and she felt like she was vibrating with the effort of containing it. It took her a moment before she could respond, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself first. "What use is an apology Sweets? Have you any idea how much pain your little experiment has caused me? And now Booth?"

"Dr Brennan, it wasn't an experiment." Sweets said, rebutting her claim, even though he knew she was correct, and Agent Booth had made the same observation.

"You're lying. You don't think I know an experiment when I see one? You wanted to quantify our reactions for your own research, and you took advantage of us. We agreed to let you observe us, not use us as lab rats!"

She abruptly pushed her chair away from the desk and got to her feet. The adrenaline surge triggered by her fury twitching in her limbs, compelling her to move.

Sweets could see the ire flashing behind her eyes as she spoke, and he nervously took a step away from her. After seeing her land a slug on Booth at the funeral a couple of days ago, he knew there was a definite risk she might try to do the same to him.

He held his hands up in front of him, palms forward, partially in surrender, partially to ward off a potential assault from her. "I understand you're upset, Dr Brennan."

Brennan inhaled a deep breath through her nose, trying to calm herself before she hurt the young psychologist. Deep down, she knew his actions would have been logical if not for the fact they were driven by his own selfish curiosity and desires. But the fact was, he had caused her an unquantifiable amount of suffering and she couldn't just forget that. "I don't think you can even begin to understand how I feel, Doctor Sweets." She said harshly.

Sweets visibly flinched at her implied criticism of his credentials. He guessed he deserved it, but it still stung. He wanted nothing more than for Dr Brennan to see him as a peer. He respected her both as a scientist and as a colleague. She was remarkable in many ways and Sweets had been looking forward to working closely with her. He now no longer had that opportunity and he only had himself to blame for it. He had worked damn hard to achieve his doctorate and gain his position at the FBI and he had thrown it all away with one lapse of judgement. "You're right. I'm sorry, Dr Brennan. Again. For everything."

Sweets shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets and turned to leave. But before he reached the door, he hesitated and turned to see Dr Brennan still watching him. He had come here to apologise and repair some of the damage he had caused, but he'd only managed to achieve one of those objectives. Figuring that he was probably out of range of a physical attack from her, he took a chance. "Don't blame Agent Booth for any of this, Dr Brennan. It's all on me. He told me how happy you both were, y'know, before… Please don't give up on that because of my lapse in judgement."

"It's been a pleasure working with you both." He added before finally leaving.

Brennan watched Sweets leave, her mind working overtime, processing everything he and Angela had just said to her. Her and Booth had been happy, and she needed to get that back, more than anything else. She quickly shrugged off her lab coat, grabbed her keys and her jacket, and headed down to the Jeffersonian parking garage to retrieve her car. She needed to see Booth. She needed to tell him how she felt. That she had made a mistake. Before it was too late.

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

The FBI building was full of its usual hubbub as Brennan hurriedly made her way to Booth's office. The familiar security guard who had handed her the visitors pass that she clipped to her jacket had said something to her as she hurried away from him, but she had already been too far away to hear what he said, and she was too focussed on her objective of getting to Booth to care.

The elevator seemed to take longer than usual to get to the Booth's floor, stopping at every level on the way with people embarking and disembarking at every stop. Brennan stood with her arms folded tightly across her chest. She tapped her foot impatiently and suppressed the urge to sigh each time the car came to a halt, silently cursing herself for not just taking the stairs.

The doors to the elevator eventually opened on the fourth floor and Brennan rushed out, pushing forcefully past anyone who was in her way. It was now late afternoon and the bull pen outside Booth's office was noisy with phones ringing and multiple voices speaking all at once. Brennan tuned it out as she marched towards Booth's office but came to an abrupt halt when she pulled on the door that bore his name and entered. The lights were off, and Booth was nowhere to be seen. Confused and concerned, she turned around craning her neck to scan the faces of the agents in the bull pen, trying to see if Booth was among them.

She was just heading in the direction of the interrogation rooms to see if Booth was in either of those when she heard a voice behind her.

"Doctor Brennan?"

She turned to see an agent she recognised smiling politely at her. She had never taken notice of his name, but she recalled how each time she had met him, he had always been polite and respectful towards her which was more than she could say about some of the other agents she encountered at the Hoover. She got the impression he was one of Booth's most trusted agents and she felt a small amount of panic rising within her as she assumed that something had happened to Booth.

"Are you looking for Agent Booth, Dr Brennan?" Agent Charlie Burns asked, automatically knowing his boss' partner was looking for him.

"Yes" Brennan said impatiently with a hint of desperation.

Charlie smiled knowingly, immediately knowing exactly what or who she was looking for. He didn't know the brusque forensic anthropologist very well, but what he did know was that she was very protective over his boss and he of her. It was obvious to anyone who knew Agent Booth and Dr Brennan that they were very close and many of the agents at the Bureau suspected their relationship went way beyond mere partnership. Agent Booth had told Charlie that morning that he had a migraine and that was why he was going home, but his demeanour had told Charlie otherwise and he suspected it more likely had something to do with the woman stood in front of him now. "He went home, Dr Brennan. He said he'd got a migraine."

Without saying another word, Brennan abruptly turned and hustled back towards the elevator.

Charlie muttered "You're welcome" under his breath while shaking his head. He didn't think he would ever get used to how curt Dr Brennan was. He also hoped to God that Agent Booth and Dr Brennan resolved whatever it was that was going on between them, because his boss in a bad mood was never a pleasant experience for Charlie or the other agents in his department.

Brennan cut past the elevators and ran down the stairs instead, not wanting to waste any more time waiting. Booth didn't get migraines. Brennan knew it was the excuse he used whenever he needed to get out of work, which wasn't very often. But now she wondered if he genuinely was sick or if he was avoiding work for another reason.

Ordinarily, when Brennan found herself in a situation that was causing her emotional turmoil, she would take off, literally run away from the problem. She suddenly felt ill at ease when she thought about how she wouldn't blame Booth for doing exactly that, and she felt a renewed impetus to get to him. She would get down on her knees without any shame and plead and beg for him to stay if that's what it took to convince him to stay, to give her another chance.

She had finally reached the parking lot and within seconds she had got in her car, got the key in the ignition and was driving away, the wheels screeching as she sped up the ramp and out onto the street, concentrating solely on her mission of getting her partner, her best friend, her lover, her everything, back.