A/N: I'm all about the angst tonight! Although, if there were such thing, I would consider this fluffy angst as opposed to the other story I posted where the fluff content is very low. At any rate, I have another section here for you, and my apologies in advance: it may be just a little bit longer before I post the next chapter than I'd like it to be. School started last week, and I am one seriously busy teacher and coach, so bear with me until things settle down. I have a few tricks up my sleeve to make it up to you later ;-)

A/N 2: This chapter is inspired by the episode "The Soldier On The Grave"--which gets me all worked up every time I see it--and by HawkeyeGirl's wonderful piece "Secrets". If you haven't read it, go find it. It's definately worth the time.

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Booth appeared in the doorway of Brennan's office, a manila folder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Hey Bones," he greeted her. "Got a new case…"

She swiveled in her chair at her desk and was immediately struck by how awful he looked. His face was haggard, the dark shadows under his contrasted sharply by the paleness of his skin. His tie hung loosely in his unbuttoned collar and his shoulders were slumped in a fashion that spoke volumes.

"Booth, are you okay? You look exhausted," she told him, the concern evident in her voice.

He nodded and waived her off. "I'm fine."

She rose from her chair and approached him, studying his face closely. "You're not fine," she replied. "If you were fine you wouldn't look so terrible."

"Thanks Bones," he responded with a weary smile. "You look lovely, too."

"Hey…" She reached out and brushed a hand over his arm, taking the bottom of the sleeve of his jacket in her fingers to get his attention. "You know I didn't mean to be rude. You come into my office looking like you didn't sleep all night, and that makes me worry about you. What's going on?"

He sighed and allowed her to lead him over to the couch, where they sat facing each other. "I look like I didn't sleep all night because I didn't," he said slowly. "But it isn't a big deal…"

"Why didn't you sleep last night?" she persisted.

"Bones, it's not…"

"…a big deal," she finished for him. "Yes, you said that. But I think it is. Is everything all right?"

She really is worried, he realized. But I've never told anybody.

Then he remembered the words he had spoken to her only a handful of weeks ago: "It isn't okay if it's a secret."

And you told her one of your secrets then, his mind prompted. You can tell her this one, too.

"It was a nightmare," he conceded reluctantly. "One of those really vivid ones that seem so real, even after you wake up." His voice began to tremble and he stopped, clearing his throat in an effort to maintain his composure.

What do I say? Brennan's brain screamed at her. I don't know what to do! Instead of saying something she feared she'd regret she kept silent, dropping her eyes to her lap and letting him speak at his own pace.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, his gaze, too, trained on their almost-touching knees. "I told you a little bit about when I was a sniper in the Army," he said quietly.

Brennan nodded. "Yes you did."

"About one of my…my…"

"Missions?" she supplied.

"Yeah," he responded, his lips curling with distaste. "One of my missions."

She nodded again. "Yes."

He lifted a hand and ran it unsteadily over his face. "And you know that I went on a lot of other missions like that."

"Yes."

He took another breath and shifted his eyes further away from hers, embarrassed and frightened all at the same time. "Every so often, those missions sort of come back to haunt me. I…I have…nightmares…about what I did…"

The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking, and Brennan knew she had to do something. Following an instinct that was still developing, she reached over and laid a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "And you had one of these nightmares last night?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," he said again, leaning into her touch. "I dreamed that I was working on a case—an FBI case—and I kept trying to interview witnesses, but no one would talk to me. They kept running away, screaming, terrified of me, and I didn't know why. Then I realized I was wearing my Ranger uniform, and I was covered in blood…the blood of the people I had killed…" He paused for a breath, hearing the tremor returning to his voice, trying to steady it before it turned into something he couldn't control.

She slid her hand along his back, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

Booth turned to her, his eyes wide with fright. "I woke up and I couldn't breathe," he continued. "My heart was pounding and…and I was really scared."

The next words came out almost as a whisper, and Brennan had to lean closer to hear.

"I wanted to call you, Bones," he confessed. "I needed you there last night…but I couldn't…"

"You could have," she assured him firmly. "I would have come…and I will come anytime…"

He pulled away from her despite his anxiety and shook his head resolutely. "No. I'm supposed to protect you." He caught the look on her face and met her gaze. "I know you don't think you need protecting—and maybe sometimes you don't—but it's my job to do it anyway, and I can't do that if you see me like that…like this…"

"You can't protect me if I see you facing a nightmare?" she asked, puzzled.

He shook his head again, the powerlessness he was feeling showing though the tough mask he tried to wear. "How can you have faith in my strength if you see me when I'm weak?"

The fledgling instinct kicked in again, and Brennan wrapped her arm tightly around her partner, pulling him to her. "It isn't weak to seek comfort when you need it, Seeley," she said softly. "It isn't weak to face your fears. It takes courage to do that…and so much strength."

"No…"

"Yes," she interrupted firmly. "Do you remember how you held me when you found me in that abandoned building?" she asked quietly. "I was…terrified…and you found me and wrapped your arms around me and let me cry…" Her voice trailed off and she let the memory form fully in her mind before she spoke again. "Did you think I was weak then?"

His brown eyes met her blue ones. "Of course not," he told her. "Someone had just tried to kill you…"

"And that was a major event in my life, right?" she prompted.

"Uh, yeah."

She smiled a little. He must be feeling at least a little better—the sarcasm is back. "This was a major event in your life, too," she reminded him. "Being a sniper had a profound effect on you, and it's okay to need help dealing with the ramifications."

A tiny smile pulled at his lips, too. "You always know just what to say," he quipped lightly.

"As long as you listen to it," she said seriously.

"I did," he assured her, taking her free hand in his and squeezing gently.

"And you'll call me—anytime—if you need me?"

He nodded. "I will."

"Promise?"

"On one condition."

"What?" she wondered.

His smile grew. "That you call me by my first name more often." It sounds good when you say it.

She looked into his eyes for a moment. You know I'd do anything for you. "I'll try."

"You'll try?" The brown irises twinkled.

She chuckled. "And only outside of work, too. On the job, we have to keep a professional relationship…"

He leaned close again, touching his forehead to hers. "Thanks, Temperance," he said softly.

She squeezed his shoulders again. "You're welcome, Seeley."