BOOTH

Two weeks and a few days later

It's been six days since we've had a case, a break we all needed after our last three. First, the loss of the English squintern. Then had come the case that had called Bones and me away from the beach early: The six-year-old little girl found in a shallow grave by the James River. Her bones had told the story of her short life, one in which she'd known nothing but pain for the last year-and-a-half. Her aunt hadn't survived her uncle's attack, but – thank you, Jesus – her little sister had. Four-year-old Natalia was now back in Pittsburgh living with her mother. Her uncle, on the other hand, would never see the light of day again, having been charged with one count of first degree murder for little Naya, one count of second degree murder for his wife, one count of attempted first degree murder for Natalia and host of other charges including kidnapping, torture and unlawful disposal of a body.

Three days after we'd wrapped that case, we'd been called to a site on a sprawling farm on the border of Virginia and North Carolina. Bones had been captivated by the beauty of the rolling hills, the horses running free through the fields, the cows grazing in a pasture and ducks of some kind floating on a pond at the front of the property… all of it marred by the piles of charred wood and ashes that had once been a large stable.

"What've we got?" I asked the deputy sheriff in charge.

"Fire Marshall's calling arson. Two bodies inside along with the carcasses of three horses. Looks to me like they were trying to get all the horses out and got caught up in the fire themselves."

The remains had been those of the elderly widow of a Congressman of some reknown who owned the farm and her farm hand. Contrary to what the sheriff had believed, the lack of soot in their airways and smoke in their lungs had indicated the victims were already dead when the fire was set. The accelerant – outboard motor fuel – along with particulates Hodgins had identified gave us the evidence we needed to arrest the widow's nephew. Tired of waiting for his aunt to die so he could collect his inheritance, he'd decided to help her death along, strangling her. The unfortunate farmhand had walked in just as she'd dropped to the ground and had been quickly skewered with a pitchfork.

Bones and me have been together almost three weeks now and I just… can't… stop… smiling. It took less than two weeks for Caroline to twist the arms of the muckety-mucks and the rule about an agent and consultant having a personal relationship has been waived for us with the understanding there would be no public displays of affection at the FBI or on the job. Still, we've chosen not to go public just yet, enjoying our time together without people sticking their noses into our business. I'll admit I'm a little more than shocked that Angela and Bug Boy haven't spread the news all over the Jeffersonian and I have to give Bones credit for being confident Angela would hold her tongue and she, in turn, would hold Hodgins'.

I think Bones and I were both surprised by how easily we slid into this new phase of our relationship, although I guess we shouldn't have been. We'd been spending most of our time together again since I broke up with Hannah, so that hadn't been an issue. We'd agreed that neither of us was prepared to move in together – I had been 95% serious when I'd said I wouldn't move in with a woman again until I had a ring on my finger. We'd also agreed, though, that we wanted to spend the nights together… except for the nights I had Parker.

Her idea, not mine. I'd tried hard to convince her otherwise.

"Parker would love you to stay overnight. He loves you. He… he… thinks you're cool, you know. You're his favorite person, he told me that, and he's always asking if you can hang out with us."

"And we will… 'hang out'… within reason. When… and If… we are ready to reveal the… change… in our… personal relationship, my Dad, Hank and Parker will be the first to know. Then, and only then, we will reassess our sleeping arrangements when you are with Parker. Angela says we have to be careful not to confuse Parker given only three months ago you were in love with Hannah and living with her."

I had opened my mouth to protest again but found I was suddenly tongue-tied. Parker had never asked me where Hannah had gone. Should that have worried me? Has my relationship with Hannah made Parker think love between a man and a woman doesn't last… or, even worse that love doesn't exist at all? It's nothing more than those chemicals Bones is always talking about and that it has an expiration date? Had my actions implied it's not a sin to… uh… well, you know…to have… to have s-e-x with a woman outside the bonds of holy matrimony or that it's okay to break the commandments that make life inconvenient for you? Had he noticed that for the last year I'd been doing things that were completely out of character - or l hope at least he believes out of character for me? I'd been hurt, I'd been angry. I'd lied, I'd betrayed. I'd been lost, I'd been afraid.

Yeah. Afraid.

I'd been a coward, I'd been desperate.

Had Parker picked up on any of it? Some of it? All of it? Had he wanted to talk to me but felt that he couldn't? If he'd sensed something going on did he see my mistakes for what they were… or did he believe he should imitate them when he grows up, just like he imitates me playing ball or hockey now? Anyone who tells you babies aren't breakable is a liar. Every day of their infancy and childhood you find a new way to screw them up. Had I screwed Parker up? After three sleepless nights I decided lunch at the Chef's table was in order… again.

She'd won the point on Parker and sleepovers on weekends had become taboo. Last week, she put the kibosh on Sunday morning breakfast or brunch, too…

"Sweets once told me that your Jesus myth—"

"Jesus is not a myth." She looks at me like she usually does at time like this: Like I've lost my mind.

"Booth," she says in that teacher's disapproving voice then continues with a shake of her head, "Your faith in the myth – as misguided as it might be –"

"It's not a—" I huff out a breath and stop myself. It was an age old argument we'd have another thousand times in the future and I knew she thought she'd made a huge compromise in rewording what she'd said. That's the best I was going to get.

"Allows you to believe in something bigger than yourself while providing you with a list of moral guidelines that offer a framework in which you can be granted forgiveness for those things you feel are unforgiveable. Your faith let's you find your inner peace," she sums up in case I didn't understand. I do. "I won't become an impediment to that."

"You could—" I was about to foolishly suggest she come along, but I've been amazed God hasn't smote me when I've accompanied her to a church for a case in the past.

"Church is your thing… and Parker's. I don't want that to change because of me..."

In the end, that left five-and-a-half days and six nights for us. I'd drop Parker off at Rebecca's late Sunday afternoon and go directly to Bones'. We'd spend Sunday, Monday and Tuesday nights there then Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights at my place.

I love that we're sharing our lives. It is so different from my past experiences…

I was twenty-one when I shipped out to the Persian Gulf, just after Desert Sabre began in 1991. By the time I returned state-side in '02, I'd already seen my share of battles… and had lost too many friends… brothers… during the campaign. I'd gotten some recognition for my actions during battle so when I returned to the States and I was tabbed to train as a sniper, I was PCS-ed almost immediately to Fort Lewis, just outside of Tacoma, Washington. Post training in Fort Lewis, I was again PCS'ed to Fort Benning after having been selected to train at the Army's Elite Sniper School. When I was shipped back out again in '93, my new MOS meant I'd be assigned directly to no singular unit and I found myself moving from one hot spot to the next: Southern Watch, Desert Strike, Northern Watch, Desert Fox… you name it. When my particular skill set was not needed immediately in the Middle East, I would find myself in the likes of Liberia, Somalia, Macedonia and Haiti.

I started gambling just to pass the time. War zones don't exactly provide much entertainment, so a pack of cards, a few fellow soldiers and twenty bucks would help you pass the time and relax. All just good, clean fun.

Until I'd marked my fortieth kill.

I'd had just over a year left in the Army and had made the decision not to re-up. Although Father Clemens… Aldo… had absolved me for each kill – kills in which I'd been the instrument of someone's death – I was finding it hard to live with what I'd done, even if it was for the greater good. I was raised in the Church, first by my Mom then by Pops. Just as the Bible is not just another book to me, the Commandments are not optional.

Not that I am claiming to be perfect, by any means. I lie. I commit adultery. I live with a woman outside of the sanctity of marriage.

I have killed, but I have not murdered. Still, each death has left a small stain on my soul. And when you have forty of those stains?

I needed out. I needed to find a new path. I needed to find a way to clear my soul.

It was that crisis of my soul that turned casual gambling into gambling several nights a week, with buy-ins that were the equivalent of a week's pay. I'd like to say that was the height of my gambling addiction but it wasn't.

I was stationed at Fort McNair in D.C. for the duration of my last year of service. I'd only been in D.C. eight days when I met Rebecca after a buddy had dragged me off to a local country bar with a half-dozen pool tables at the back where you could gamble under the table. I was a couple hundred up when Rebecca caught my eye. I laid down my cue stick, walked across the bar and asked if I could buy her a drink. That night we drank a little, danced a little, drank a little, played pool a little then had a lot of sex – something I'd been without for more than a year during my last tour.

It wasn't long before I was in love. She was beautiful, loved to have fun, had a great sense of humor and had a beautiful smile. She was feisty, independent, intelligent and driven. She was everything I thought I wanted in a woman. Yeah, we argued – a lot, if I'm honest - both of us stubborn and unrelenting, and neither of us caring for the other's work schedule.

We'd been seeing each other for a little more than two months when she announced she might be pregnant. As we waited for that little stick to tell us if we were going to be parents, I was more excited than I had been in a long, long time. I could see our future as clearly as if it were playing on a movie screen right in front of me: Rebecca and me married in the Church; our child baptized in the Church; and, the three of us getting a nice place together with a large yard for the baby.

And a dog. I've always wanted a dog.

Just the thought had me popping the question to Rebecca before the stick told us the results.

"Marry me," I announced. Yeah, no grand gesture there, just the two words, but I hadn't exactly had time to buy a ring, pick up some flowers and make a reservation at some fancy restaurant. I guess I figured we'd be on the same page and we could do all the romance later while also celebrating her pregnancy. When she threw herself off the bed and put as much distance between me and her as the room would allow, it wasn't a good sign.

"What? No! I only told you might be pregnant because I thought it was the right thing to do. I don't want to get married. In fact, I planned to tell you tonight that I think we should start seeing other people."

I could only sit and blink at her for several long seconds.

"Wh- What?" I finally managed. Rebecca came and sat next to me on the bed.

"I care about you, Seeley, I really do." Care? The week before it was 'I love you.' "But last night when it occurred to me I might be pregnant, I realized not only didn't I see a future for us but also that I don't want to be tied to anyone right now."

"So, this is about wanting to play the field?" I asked tightly.

"Not exactly," she shook her head. "It's about… being free. I want to feel the thrill of that first kiss with someone new again. I want to feel the electric that races through you when your hand brushes the hand of someone you've been crushing on. I want to feel the excitement that makes you shake because you're going out with someone you've had your eye on."

"I love you," I offered the only defense I had. Rebecca shook her head.

"No… you don't, not really," she disagreed. "You came back from the desert determined to fall in love so you've convinced yourself you have and I was swept away by the romance of it all. I mean how often is a girl swept off her feet by the hero returning home from war?" she attempted to joke. That she was making light of my feelings only fueled my anger more. She sighs at whatever she sees on my face. "Seeley, you deserve to be with someone who loves you as much as you want to love someone else… someone who can't envision her life without you in it. It's just not me." I laughed in disbelief. She'd dumped me with the old 'it's not you, it's me' line. I watched as she reached for the test and turned it over to read. A sigh. A nod of her head. She handed the wand to me.

I stared at the tiny screen as though I had a clue what it meant.

"What—" I began.

"One line means you're not pregnant," she told me solemnly. I looked down at the wand again, then turned to face the wall rubbing my hand across my mouth. It wasn't how I'd pictured becoming a father would go. "I don't know if I'm keeping it."

My ears rang and my head filled with white noise. For a couple of seconds, I wondered if I was having a stroke.

"Seeley, did you hear what I said?" she asked behind me. I rubbed at my eyes and wet my lips before turning around.

"I'm guessing I don't get to have a say in that either, huh?" My temper was beginning to boil. What do you think a guy feels when he's dumped and told he has no say in his child's life all in five minutes?

"I'll keep your opinion in mind, but ultimately it's my body and my life," she countered, "I've known what I wanted for my life since I was a kid: Finish high school then go to college and get my baccalaureate and master degrees in finance; partnership in a firm by thirty-five; travel Europe and Asia and live overseas for a year. I like having the freedom to take off for a weekend on the spur of the moment or to meet friends at the club whenever they call. Having a baby would mean I have to give up a lot of that. Then there's ob/gyn care, daycare, pediatrician appointments and shots to pay for and cribs, strollers, diapers and clothes and who knows what else to buy."

"I'm the father. I'll help pay for all that," I protested.

"And are you going to carry the baby too? Are you going to get the swollen feet, stretch marks and sore breasts? Are you going to have your hips widen and gain forty pounds that you might never lose? Will you be up on-and-off all night for feedings? Is your dating pool going to be reduced by half – maybe more – because many men don't want to date a single parent? Will you be overlooked for promotions because of the chauvinistic attitude that women who become mothers are less reliable and less dedicated?" My jaw tightened. My temper soared.

"Sounds like you've already made up your mind," I bit out.

"The only thing I've made my mind up about is that we won't be dating any longer." Standing, she left the bedroom, leaving me to follow. In the living room, she picked up my jacket from the arm of the sofa and held it out to me. "I'll call you in a few days and tell you my decision." Furious, I flung open the door.

"Yeah. You do that."

I'd slammed out of the apartment before anything else could be said. Rebecca had, of course, chosen to have the baby, something I'd learned only through a brief phone call…

"I've decided to keep the baby."

"Great! I mean, great! I'll be with you every step of the way! Doctor appointments… and… and… Lamaze, the delivery room… I'll, I'll even run to the store in the middle of the night for what—"

"Seeley, no. No! I don't want any of that! I'll be raising this baby on my own and I'll be doing this part alone too. That's how I want it. I'll… I'll keep you filled in and of course you can spend time with the baby after it's born, but that's all I want…"

It had all gone downhill from there. She'd cut me out. I got a call to tell me when Parker was due. I got another call to tell me we would be having a boy. The last call I'd gotten was that she was in labor and I was welcome to cool my heels in the waiting room, so I could meet my son after he was born. It had been a miracle, in my eyes, that she'd given me a voice in his name. Then, for years after his birth, I'd had to beg, constantly, for time with my son. It was only in the last four or five years that we'd settled into the rhythm of Parker spending most weekends with me.

I shake off thoughts of Rebecca and turn my attention to dinner. Bones called about twenty-minutes ago to see if there was anything she could pick up on the way home. On the 'way home'. It has such a nice ring to it. I double check that I haven't missed anything. The bottle of wine is open and breathing on the counter. The table is set, complete with wine goblets and a pair of candles waiting to be lit. I've chosen the menu with care since Bones is a vegetarian: Linguine with tomato, rosemary and caper sauce accompanied by Confit garlic with roasted tomatoes on toast. Believe me it's not as fancy as it sounds and takes under an hour to make, cooking included. If it's pasta, I can pretty much make it.

I open the oven and check on the garlic and tomatoes roasting there. Everything should be right on time.

I turn down the flame under the sauce and strain the pasta over the sink. Once I fold the pasta into the sauce, I lower the flame a little more then move to the dining room table. As I light the first candle my cell rings. Grabbing it off the counter, I answer while lighting the second.

"Booth."

"Hi, soldier."

I freeze.

The flame from the match burns my finger…

"Ow… ow… ow… ow… ow," I complain while trying to shake out the match. I spin around and leaning across the bar, sling the still lit match into the sink. Thrown slightly off balance, I juggle my phone then launch it off my fingers. It clatters across the bar towards the stove. I snatch it up in the nick of time and bring it back to my ear.

Had I brought the call on myself by thinking too much about the past? Maybe. All I know is the only woman I've ever actually lived with and had never expected to hear from again, was on the other side of the line.

"Uh… Hannah… Uh… Hi. Hi…" She's laughing.

"Dare I ask?" It takes me a second to get what she means.

"Um… sorry, uh… it was nothing. I'm just… I'm just cooking dinner." I take another peek in the oven and give the pasta a quick stir.

"Well, you better be careful. The kitchen is the single most dangerous room in the house, you know," she jokes.

"You know me… Safety first." We share a laugh then an awkward silence falls between us. Hannah is the one to brave breaking it.

"I'm catching a hop to Germany out of Bolling tomorrow night. I was hoping, maybe, we could have lunch tomorrow and talk? My treat," she hurriedly added the last. I pick up the wine goblets from where I'd set them and move them to the bar next to the bottle. I splash some wine into one of the glasses then tip it back, before I answer.

"Um… Yeah… Yeah, I think we should." I let out a long, quiet breath after agreeing. I should have known this day would come. Hannah had pretty much promised it would…

"I do love you, Seeley. I don't think we're done, but I can see we're done for now…"

She'd been wrong though. We were done – and not just 'for now', but I not only owed Hannah the truth, I also needed to make amends, since personal-responsibility and contrition are central to both my sobriety and my Faith.

First and foremost, though, I had to talk with Bones. Of the three of us, she's the one who's been put through the most. Hannah and I at least understood what our feelings were and what caused them. Bones had only been confused by the contradictions and the lies – whether white or whoppers. She'd been left trying to define feelings that she didn't understand… and frightened her. She was the one left feeling… alone.

"Seeley? Are you still there?"

"Yeah," I snap back to attention. "Yeah, sorry. You were saying?" The oven timer begins to beep.

"Around one at the diner?" I turn off the timer and open the oven to peek inside. I can't think of a worse idea than the diner, where Bones and me have lunch every day – not to mention most of the lab.

"I was thinking along the line of the hot dog cart by the reflection pool."

"Mmm," she hums, "Nitrates on preservative laden starch and gluten, fully loaded with grease and more preservatives – my favorite." I can't help my laugh. The nitrates and preservatives are a nod to Bones and Hannah's not kidding: She likes food carts of any kind, but hot dogs are, hands down, her favorite – especially when served with greasy fries. It's one of the many ways she and Bones are complete opposites. Hannah – from food to going after a story – is very much a 'you only live once so live in the moment' type, whereas Bones is only comfortable once all the evidence is not only in but a thorough examination indicates a statistically significant outcome.

I don't think most people would understand the importance of that. Bones would never have opened her heart to me if she hadn't believed we could be the exception to the rule: We could not only sustain the feelings we had for one another but that we could grow together instead of grow apart like the majority of couples do.

That unspoken faith in us… in me… makes my heart thump just a little harder, as it always does.

"I'll bring the cokes," I offer. I look up when I hear the lock on the front door release. The smile on my face is only for Bones as she walks through the door.

"Chilled. Glass bottles," she reminds. This was something else we agreed on: There is nothing quite like an ice-cold coke from a glass bottle to go with a hot dog.

"I remember. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," Hannah agrees. I'm about to hang up when she adds, "I've missed you, Seeley." I end the call, hoping she thinks I didn't hear her last words. I have no answer for them and my thoughts are already fully on the woman walking towards me. I drop the phone on the counter and grasp Bones' upper arms as we exchange a kiss.

What I'd planned as a romantic evening for two has just taken an unexpected turn…