A/N: More, more, more you say! And I blush modestly and say, of course I'll give you more :-P Especially with such kind reviews, and in such large numbers! I know I've said it before, but I'm going to say it again--I really don't know how to thank you for all the support...except to keep on writing :-)

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The sunlight was just beginning to peek through the windows when Brennan floated back to consciousness. She knew she'd have to get up soon to get ready for work, but she felt so warm and comfortable and safe snuggled under the covers that she wasn't ready to rise just yet.

Then she discovered the strong arm draped around her and blinked her eyes slowly open. This isn't my bed…or my home… She wracked her sleepy brain for memories of the previous night and it all came flooding back. The phone call. Booth's nightmare. Going to his place. He fell asleep, she remembered, and I didn't want to leave him.

She rolled over carefully, a soft smile forming on her lips as her eyes came to rest on her still-sleeping partner. He looked peaceful, relaxed, in sharp contrast to the state he had been in when she had arrived only a handful of hours ago. Her gaze shifted to the alarm clock on the nightstand and, reading the time display, she knew that she'd have to leave soon. But not yet. After last night, I don't want him to wake up alone. She leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead, cuddling back up to him and listening to his steady breathing as she waited for him stir.

Half an hour later, his eyes fluttered open and he smiled. "I think I'm still dreaming," he mumbled. "But I don't want to wake up this time if I am."

She giggled in spite of herself. He's barely conscious and he's flirting with me? "You're not dreaming."

"Good," he said, tightening his arm around her.

She pulled back a little and studied his face. "You're okay?" she asked, the concern showing in her voice. "You're really…you're okay?"

He nodded, resting his forehead against hers. "Thanks to you."

She smiled a small smile in response, but didn't speak. Her brain was arguing with her heart over the best course of action.

Get up! her brain commanded. Go to work!

No! her heart shot back. Stay here with him!

In the end, it was her heart that won out, but not in the way it had hoped. She sighed softly and sat up, pushing the covers back and swinging her feet over the side. He's alright now, she assured herself, and it was his idea to be strictly professional partners. I decided to abide by his wishes…

"Wait," he called, reaching for her from under the blankets. His hand made contact with her shoulder, slipping over the smooth skin as she continued to move away. "Stay for a little while longer…"

She shook her head, adjusting her tank top and standing. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Temp—"

She cut him off gently before he got the rest of her name out. "No. We both need to get to work."

He heard the sadness in her voice, the longing to stay with him, and knew that he was responsible for putting it there. And the reason she isn't staying. You're lucky she came at all.

He watched her make her way out of the bedroom, her wrinkled pajama pants swishing as she moved, her hand unconsciously tucking her hair behind her ears. "At least let me take you to dinner," he tried, a last ditch effort to hold onto her figuratively if not literally. "Tonight, after we knock off for the day. Call it a thank-you for last night."

She turned slowly in the doorway, keeping her face neutral as she turned the offer over in her mind. "Okay," she nodded. "Dinner would be nice."

She spun around quickly, then, and disappeared. Only a few moments later he heard his front door close and he flopped backward onto the bed, heaving a heavy sigh. The place seemed suddenly very empty without her there and the heartache he had managed to tame—though not dispel—during their semi-separation roared back with a vengeance.

I miss her, he thought. Even when she's standing right next to me at the lab or in my office or at a crime scene, I miss her…I miss the way we used to be together.

He sighed again and grabbed a pillow, clutching it to his chest in a futile effort to transfer some of the pain to it from himself. Instead, the ache grew stronger, aided by her scent still left on the material. This is just torture…worse than any other torture I've experienced…

Booth catapulted the pillow angrily across the room and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his arms. I can't do this anymore, he realized. I can't do this pretend-there's-nothing-between-us act and survive…and neither can she. It has to be all or nothing.

He sighed again, this time with a resigned air.

And I know what I have to do.



Swinging open her door, Brennan headed immediately for her bedroom to begin her morning routine in preparation for work. She made it as far as the living room, though, before she halted in her tracks, struck by the emptiness of the place.

There's not another living thing here, she discovered. Not a hamster or goldfish…not even a plant because the last one I had died when I forgot to water it.

She dropped her keys on the coffee table and sighed. "And not another person, either," she said aloud. "I'm all alone here…and I used to be okay with that."

Circling the coffee table, she lowered herself onto the couch and rested her head in her hands, balancing her elbows on her knees. "I never wanted anything more than what I have until I met him," she frowned. "I never wanted what other people always seem to talk about, the house and the minivan and the husband and kids, the compromises and the freedoms lost…"

But being with Booth wouldn't be losing my freedom…

He supported her, he looked out for her, even when they weren't speaking. He…he danced for her. She laughed out loud as the image of Booth doing the Walk Like an Egyptian dance at the American History Museum, the humor of the moment mixing with the underlying sweetness of his actions. Because it was sweet, she knew. He didn't want to do the dance, but he had complied with her request simply because she had asked.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, but remained where she was for several minutes more, trying to think things through, to form a plan, to reason out the problem the way she always did.

Finally, she rose from the couch and began pacing around the living room, restless and unhappy. "All I know is that we can't continue our relationship the way it is," she decided. "If we do, we'll end up resenting each other and become enemies, and I won't let that happen. That means we either have to break off all ties, which would be extremely painful for an indeterminate amount of time, or we have to try to make a romantic relationship work, which could cause even more pain if we aren't successful."

She stopped pacing in front of her stereo, her new Sam & Dave CD with the words Hold On, I'm Comin' almost screaming up at her from the case, reminding her of what they had…what they still could have. And suddenly she knew the answer.

"I've never given up anything without a fight."