BOOTH

When I arrive at the office, I head straight for the breakroom where my Steelers' cup is waiting to be filled with hot coffee. The more, the better. I need to be on my game today. With an opponent like Broadsky, a blink of your eye can be the difference between life and death. This is one of hundreds of times I've been thankful for my military training, where we were pushed to our limits for seventy-two hours at a time to prepare us for the rigors of the field as well as give us a taste of tactics that might be used against us if we were captured by the opposition. And make no mistake about it: Broadsky and I are at war. He violated my home, threatened to orphan my son while putting a target on my back and he's killed innocent people without regard. But yesterday?

I grab my mug from the cabinet and absently move to the coffee maker and the possibly fresh coffee.

Yesterday he'd made a mistake by killing the kid and making Bones collateral damage. I won't wait for him to show up again, like we did the last three months. I'll hunt him wherever he goes until he's neutralized. How I do that is up to him.

Setting the empty pot on the counter, I grab my mug and take a sip as I leave the breakroom.

"Ow, ow, ow, owwwww. It's hot, it's hot," I mutter, yanking the cup away from my mouth then swearing an oath under my breath when the coffee sloshes over the lip of the cup and onto my hand, scalding it.

"I feel contrite that I think you're foolhardy in the way you approach a cup of coffee."

"How do I approach a cup of coffee?"

"You drink it without checking the temperature and then you complain all day that your tongue is burnt."

I chuckle at the memory. Unless I want Bones looking at me like a disappointed teacher, I won't be sharing this particular detail of my day.

I sink into my desk chair, lean back and stretch out my legs, resting my feet on the corner of my desk. Foolishly, I take another drink of my coffee. Ow! Hot! If I keep this up, I won't have to tell Bones because she'll figure it out when we kiss. I can't help my smile…

When we kiss.

I sit up and move the coffee out of reach before I do it a third time, then rest my feet on the desk again.

My world had been turned upside down a year ago, when I'd told Bones I really wanted to give us a shot.

"No! No!"

"Why? Why?"

She hadn't even paused to consider, instead giving me her version of 'it's not you, it's me.'

"You thought you were protecting me, but you're the one who needs protecting."

"Protecting from what?"

"From me."

I could barely hear over the blood rushing through my head and for a minute the world spun around me. I'm still thankful I'd had the sense to sit down on the low-slung wall behind us before my knees gave out. Tears wet my eyes as the hope I'd been clinging to this last year went up in flames then fell like ashes at my feet. I didn't even know how to go forward from here, then she'd asked the impossible of me:

"Can we still work together?"

"Yeah."

What choice had I had when those big tear-filled eyes were looking at me? I loved her and when you love someone, you're willing to sacrifice your own happiness for theirs. Isn't that what I believe?

Pushing to my feet, I sigh and shake my head while reaching for my bat. I begin to pace.

I thought I could do it, to pretend nothing had changed between us, but I'd made a huge miscalculation. I forgot that Bones doesn't understand the rules like other people. Simple rules. Like not asking the man whose heart you've just stomped on to slow dance with you to Seal's Kiss from a Rose. I mean, we're talking Seal here, right? With her arms wrapped around me, her head resting on my shoulder, her breath caressing my neck… I mean, c'mon.

That was the night I began lying to myself… and her.

"I just don't want any misunderstandings here. That's all, Bones. I mean, you know, we, uh, opened up a door there that neither one of us wants to walk through.

I don't know why I said we, when it was "I" – I'd opened up a door that she doesn't want to walk through. To save face? Pride? Because I knew she'd let me get away with it? It didn't really matter. When I saw the disappointment on her face and the tears in her eyes as she looked up at the silver stars, I was done for. For three minutes we danced under the stars. For three minutes, I'd pretended nothing was wrong, part of me savoring every second and the other part regretting we'd never dance under the stars as a couple.

I'd tried to pretend everything hadn't changed, for her sake – always for Bones' sake. It hadn't worked for either of us. There was no more easy banter, our conversations becoming more and more forced as the weeks went by. I stopped invading her personal space and began putting physical distance between us. Dinners and drinks together, were limited to celebrating a closed case, because I didn't have it in me to listen to Bones encouraging me to sleep with another woman while also sharing Hacker had suggested they have sex. The embraces that helped calm and settle her when she was confused or upset had become awkward… and painful, another reminder of what I'd never have. I felt Bones withdrawing a little more each day and I can't say there hadn't been warning signs.

Two months later I was in Afghanistan and Bones was in Indonesia.

If I thought distance would make it any easier, I was wrong. For months, I'd grieved - that's the only word I can think of to describe how deeply the loss of Bones cut. She was the first thing I thought of every morning and the last thing I before I slept: Was she safe? Happy? Had she made the big discovery like she hoped? Did she think of me or had she 'compartmentalized' me away? Then, each night there was the dream, a constant reminder of what could have been but hadn't even been given a chance. I buried myself in my new role in the Army, designing and executing complicated and demanding training exercises for the soldiers under my command, but there wasn't enough work to chase away the thoughts and memories of Bones.

I spent my downtime in my quarters, wondering many nights what happened and where I'd gone wrong. I wrote Bones letters, figuring she'd appreciate the effort put into handwriting them but in the end, I'd tucked them into the pages of my Bible. How could I send them? What was I supposed to say? 'Dear Bones, I love you?' or 'Hey Bones, do you miss me as much as I miss you?'… or should I just ask the question that haunted me: Why?

Just why? It was the question I'd been asking myself every night since arriving on the base while waiting on letters and phone calls that never came. Five months into my year-long duty, my grief turned to anger, anger I carried with me through another five months, even after – especially after – seeing Bones waiting for me where we'd promised to meet when we returned to Washington D.C. That my feelings for her surged through me, as though we hadn't been apart a day and that night…

"No! No!"

…made me determined to stick to my guns: Partners, nothing else. No late dinners together, no surprise late night visits with Chinese food, no jogs in the Park. We were partners. That's what she wanted, right?

"Can we still work together?"

"Our partnership is so important to me. You know that, right?"

Partners.

And nothing else.

Easy to say, but not so easy to do when your heart's involved… even when you deny it.

Then on a cold, rainy, December night in a seedy neighborhood, Bones had turned my world upside down, again. I was already having a hard time shoving aside the memories of another cold, rainy night six-and-a-half years before…

"I think this is going somewhere."

…that made my blood hum and my pulse jump, when she looked at me with hope lighting her eyes and offered herself to me. My heart hammered in my chest and for a second I'd known what pure joy felt like. Then my head stepped in and the anger returned. Now? She turned me down. She left. I didn't hear a single word from her the entire time I was in Afghanistan. Then there was Hannah. Now?

I turned her down just as she had me less than a year ago.

Confused, hurt and sadder than I've ever seen Bones before, I'd driven her home then had left her there… alone. Alone with feelings she wouldn't be able to understand. Alone when she needed comfort. Alone when she needed me maybe more than she ever had before.

I couldn't be that person for her anymore.

But, God, I wanted to be.

"You're a good man, Booth…"

Shaking my head, I return my bat to the corner of my office. Troubled, I go to the window and stare out over D.C., not seeing anything.

It's been a long time since I've been able to look myself in the mirror and like the person looking back at me. I've spent my entire adult life doing whatever I can to get into Heaven, but since returning from Afghanistan I've been racking up the sins - venial, mortal and capital. I've lied and betrayed confidences; I have acted in anger and in strife; and, I've fornicated while committing adultery – not in body but in my heart and mind… And as Aldo, my priest in the military, used to say: A lie from the heart is a whopper.

Yes, even if you're lying to yourself about that as well.

There are still many things I haven't forgiven myself for yet, although I'm trying. In all fairness, it's taken me a long time to untangle everything that's happened over the last year and even longer to figure out why I made the choices I did. I'd even popped in on Gordon-Gordon a couple of times to trying to make sense of it all. I have amends to make, there are apologies owed, lies and half-truths to correct and vows made to myself to keep.

Last night offered me the chance to keep one of those vows.

I'd spent five years coaxing Bones out of her once impenetrable shell, daring her to stop hiding and to live life to the fullest, to have some fun… to let herself feel again. Slowly, I earned her trust, learning along the way that she's not the cold fish I once accused her of being but a woman whose childhood had shaped her just as my childhood has shaped me. It's hard to believe, but I was the lucky one, having lived the first half of my childhood with an abusive drunk until Pops rescued me and Jared and gave us a real home, a real chance to grow up and become someone worthy of his sacrifices. But Bones? Bones had been born into a home with two parents who had loved her unconditionally and a brother she idolized. Then, at fifteen, in a matter of six weeks, first her parents and their love and support disappeared and then her brother took off too. It was too much for her fragile heart to handle and she locked it away for fifteen years…

Until I came along.

"Temperance… Partners, they share things. Builds trust."

And, slowly at first, she had. Then as her trust in me grew, she started giving weight to my advice and would come to me for answers about emotions and situations she didn't understand.

"You're the person I talk to about things like this."

It had taken me a long time to earn that distinction. I took pride in it and felt humbled by it. I promised myself that I would always handle her heart and her trust with kid gloves.

I'd broken that promise and I was having a hard time living with it.

I hadn't gone home that night even though Hannah was waiting for me, asleep, in my bed. Instead, I drove, with no destination in mind, eventually finding myself standing in the pouring rain staring at the blinking neon sign of a certain pool hall. Shoving my hands into my coat pockets, I stood there, trying to decide if I was going to stay or go.

I knew.

It was that thought that drove me inside where I dropped my sobriety chip on the counter and ordered two shots of tequila, knocking those back and indicating two more before I'd even taken my seat. I'd done my share of gambling here on the tables, both winning and losing. My luck had been better than worse, but then one night I'd gotten a bit too cocky and ended up owing the wrong people more money than I made in a month. I was just so sure my luck would turn around. It didn't and that hadn't been the first time I'd lost big.

I miss the thrill of gambling as much as the junkie does the next fix. And I was a junkie. That adrenaline rush when you are winning is nearly as satisfying as sex… Truthfully, sometimes more. Two more shots of tequila and I was dropping a folded fifty on the rail indicating I had the next game—

A knock on my office door, pulls me from my thoughts.

"Yeah?" I ask before even turning around.

"Matt Leishenger's boss is in the interrogation room," Shaw informs me.

"Right. Hilton Trucking, right?" I verify, walking to my desk and picking up a file.

"Yes, sir," she confirms then asks hesitantly, "The kid who was killed in the lab… Was he a friend of yours?"

"Yes, he was," I answer with conviction. He wasn't a friend, of course. But he was part of the team, and that's all that matters.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she responds sincerely.

"Well, you know what?" I ask as I start walking towards the door. "Don't be sorry. Just help me get revenge…"