A/N: Still hanging in there with me? Lol! You are and I love you all for it! I am, however, going to continue to tease you a bit. And I fear I wasn't quite clear enough in the last section on our Secret Agent Man's intentions. Some of you got the wrong idea about what he was planning, and might be surprised at this chapter. I promise, though, that there is a resolution in the near future...but that's all I'm saying ;-P

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Booth pulled into the parking structure at the Jeffersonian and killed the engine of his SUV. He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, straightened his tie, and grabbed an envelope and palm-sized box from the passenger seat. He climbed from the vehicle and slid the items into his overcoat pocket, running through his repertoire of breathing exercises to steady his nerves as he headed into the lab.

In her office, Brennan stood in front of the little mirror she had pulled from her desk drawer and placed on an eye-level shelf, fumbling with the clasp of her necklace. After three tries she finally secured the chain around her neck, then adjusted the dress she had changed into for her dinner with Booth. She closed her eyes for a moment, preparing herself mentally the way she used to do to get ready for a big exam in college.

He strolled down the hallway and rounded the corner, pausing in the office doorway to take in the sight of her with hungry eyes. She was wearing that strappy maroon dress, the one that he had once told her was his favorite. Her hair was down, pooling around her shoulders, the red in it glinting in the lamplight. His heart nearly stopped when she smiled at her reflection, and he inhaled sharply to get it beating again.

She turned quickly at the sound, blushing pink when she discovered him watching her. "How long have you been there?"

He smiled. "Not long," was all he answered.

No biting comeback, she observed. He's very mellow this evening. And he looks quite handsome in that suit.

He stepped into the office. "Ready?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Just let me get my coat."

He resisted the urge to help her with her coat, but didn't quite succeed in suppressing the instinct to guide her out to the car. I thought I kicked that habit! I can't be doing things like that, he chastised himself.

They made uncomfortable small talk in the car for a while before Brennan figured out where they were headed. "Your place?" she wondered aloud.

He nodded. I didn't want to do this in public. "I said I'd take you to dinner…I didn't say where."

"Very clever," she smiled. He's wearing the tie I gave him…did he do that on purpose?

He again ushered her from the SUV when they arrived, his hand brushing the small of her back before pulling quickly away. Her skin tingled from the warmth of his touch and her eyes closed for the briefest instant, savoring the feeling.

"Have a seat," he offered, gesturing toward the living room as they entered his home and shrugged off their coat. "I'll get dinner started."

She moved toward the couch, but changed her mind halfway there. "You want some help?"

He flashed her a grin. "It's a lasagna my mother made for me the last time she was here for a visit. I took it out of the freezer before I left for work this morning—all I have to do is put it in the oven."

"Ah," she smiled.

She waited for him anyway, and the pair walked into the living room together, taking seats as far away from each other as politeness would allow. The uncomfortable small talk reappeared for a few moments, until Booth decided enough was enough.

"I'm…I'm sorry I called you last night," he said quietly, his eyes revealing his embarrassment. "I should have been stronger…"

She unconsciously inched toward him. "When you first told me about your nightmares, what did I say to you?"

He smiled softly, remembering the moment on the couch in her office. "You told me that it wasn't weak to seek comfort, that it took strength to face your fears."

"Yes," she nodded. "And I also told you to call me if you ever had a nightmare like that again. You merely did the sensible thing and asked for help when you needed it."

He chuckled. "Leave it to you, Bones, to put a pragmatic spin on an emotional subject."

She studied his face at that remark. Was that a verbal shot at me because of the way I told him I love him? He was leaning forward on his forearms, eyes focusing on a fingernail he was playing with so as to avoid looking at her, but there was no trace of sarcasm in his features. I guess not. He's just teasing me a little…almost like he used to. And he called me Bones. Aside from last night, he hasn't done that in weeks. "Pragmatism is not a bad thing. It's the way…"

"…you cope with things," he finished for her. "I know. We all can't be as pragmatic as you are, though, and I really am sorry for the state I was in last night. I was like a clingy little kid…"

She slid further down the couch, closer still to where he sat in the recliner. "You don't have to apologize," she told him. "I know what it's like to be that afraid, to need the help of someone else to deal with that fear." She wanted to reach out and touch him the way she had the previous night, to show him how good they were together. Instead, she shoved the thought away and smiled a small smile. "I'm just glad I was able to help."

"You did," he replied quietly. "You stayed with me and comforted me and made me feel better…without making false promises or empty reassurances. Never once did you say 'it'll be okay' or 'everything's all right now'. You talked some sense into me. And you told me over and over that you were there, that you weren't leaving."

"Well, you said you needed me," she explained, confused by importance he placed on those particular actions. "And it was the truth—I wasn't going to leave you."

"But most people don't tell you the truth when you're upset like that. They just shush you and say things that are supposed to calm you down. I do it with Parker all the time, and with a four-year-old it works. But it never worked with me after one of those dreams."

"And my staying with you did work." It was more of a question than a statement, but she already knew the answer.

"Yeah, your reason and rationality actually helped me keep it together, because I know how meticulous you are about facts." He flashed her a wry smile. It faded quickly, though, as he continued speaking more quietly. "Having you there made all the difference."

He let that hang in the air for a long moment, hoping his gratitude came though as strongly as he felt it.

Then Brennan broke the silence, uncomfortable with the unspoken sentiment. "Booth, there's something else we need to talk about."

He winced, knowing what was coming and not wanting to spoil the first nice moment they'd had in weeks. "Now?"

"Yes. Now."

"Okay…"

She took a deep breath and dove right in. "I think we should be together."

He stared at his hands, avoiding her eyes again. "You don't waste any time, do you?" he half-mumbled.

"No," she shook her head. "Not when it comes to something as important as this…as us." She bowed her head and clasped her hands together in her lap. "I know I'm not usually very good with people or emotions, and I know that when I told you I loved you I didn't do it in the best way." She raised her eyes to his, the sincerity evident in her voice. "But I meant it. And after last night I can't just ignore it anymore. For the first time in my life I'm in love, and it's with you. That's…that's…a really big deal."

He met her gaze and smiled softly at the last phrase. "It is a big deal," he agreed. Then the smile became sad and died away. "And that's why we can't be together…even after last night—especially after last night—I know I'd hurt you somehow, and I won't do that to you…" He rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen where he'd left his overcoat, withdrawing the box and envelope from the pocket. Returning to the room, he set the former on an end table and handed the latter to Brennan. "That's why I wrote this today."

She extracted a sheet of paper from the envelope and began to read. "This is a request for reassignment."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."