Whaaaat - double post day! I love this chapter so much that I can't wait to post it. Enjoy!

It had been a solid month before Booth had actually been able to take Hannah's call, and not for lack of trying. She'd been busy with work, so it wasn't like she was ringing him off the hook, but he'd been pretty unavailable himself. They were batting 0 with communication these days between missed calls and text messages at inopportune times. Of course, he knew in his heart, as the old adage goes, people make time for the things they want to make time for. He'd had no problem making time for Bones outside of work, if taking work home could really be called outside of work.

It felt like they hadn't stopped in weeks. Broadsky had been taunting him, leaving a trail of animal carcasses and practice shots through make-shift tunnels. He was planning something big, and they were no closer to nailing him down, so when Hannah called in the middle of a debrief with the team, he almost didn't take the call again.

"Yeah, hey." He snapped at first, correcting himself quickly. It wasn't her fault he was irritated.

"Hey yourself!" She told him back in a more carefree tone. "We've been ships in the night lately." She commented.

"Yeah, I can't really talk right now either, but I wanted to at least answer." He told her truthfully, glancing at Caroline's disapproving and impatient face. She'd been telling them her theory about the next location being the women's bathroom at the courthouse when his phone rang, and Caroline was not someone you wanted to interrupt, especially when she had their only lead.

"Oh, gee thanks." She replied sarcastically before laughing. "Well, I won't keep you too long, but I wanted to let you know I'll be in DC again next week for a couple of days." She told him. "I'll text you the flight info so you don't, I don't know, shoot me when I come into the apartment or something." She joked, and he gave a half-hearted laugh, but it was entirely possible at this point.

"Good, I'll try to pick you up from the airport, but let's touch base closer to and iron things out. I, uh, I have something important I want to talk to you about." He told her, swallowing as he glanced toward Bones who was actively pretending not to listen, though her pen was frozen in place on her notepad.

"You're not planning some crazy proposal, are you?" She asked with a laugh.

Brennan wasn't sure what Hannah had said to make Booth laugh so nervously, but he stood there repeating the word 'No' quite adamantly. If her study of human emotion held any credence, his pale face and apparently sweaty palms that he was currently wiping on his pants, indicated he was feeling quite distressed by whatever it was she'd said,

She tried not to watch him, not to feel jealous. His Catholic guilt, as Ange had called it, was eating away at him, like necrotizing fasciitis… but of the emotions, and she knew what was waiting for Hannah when she touched down in The District again.

It had only been a week since they'd had their serious conversation and burned their wishes, and Brennan was personally proud of their ability to sit in his living room and eat takeout without feeling the urge to engage in vigorous intercourse.

"I'd like to share some things with you." He said, as he sifted through his fried rice container.

"No thank you." She muttered, tossing her chopsticks onto the table in front of her and patting her stomach. She had overdone it, but they'd been going non-stop all day and had skipped lunch.

"No— I don't mean the food." He corrected her, and she looked at him in question. "I want to tell you personal things… you know, about me." He told her, and she squinted at him. There were very few things about Seeley Booth that she didn't already know.

"Such as what?" She asked, raising a brow at him.

"You know you were the first person I'd ever admitted to being addicted to gambling to out loud?" He asked her, and she nodded. She did know that. He'd told her that already. "And the only person I've ever told the details to about Radik." He'd told her, and she nodded again. She knew that also. He'd told her that years ago. "I, uh, I want to tell you more things like that."

"Like a confession?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, like a confession." He agreed. "I want to be honest with you about every little dark corner of my life. I want to show you that I trust you implicitly with every skeleton in my closet." He told her. "Metaphorical skeletons and closets." He added, and she blushed because she had indeed glanced at his coat closet curiously, but completely unintentionally. If he'd found literal skeletons in his closet, surely she'd be his first call.

"You don't have—" she'd started, and he shook his head.

"I do. I need you to know that there is not a damn thing in this world that I want to keep from you. I know it doesn't make up for showing you that I'm capable of cheating, of hurting someone that I love so irreparably, but I hope that it can maybe show you that even though I'm capable of being a monster, I have the ability to choose not to be. I am choosing not to be this guy… for you." He explained, and she soaked it in. How could he see himself as a monster? "I'm capable of killing, just like Broadsky, but I don't. I have in the past, for reasons that I felt were justified, but I don't now. I would never, ever, do what I did with you, to you." He'd promised her, and she felt a pang in her chest.

"You regret us being together?" She asked, wrapping her arms around her middle, trying to comfort herself at the thought of this revelation.

"No. I just regret not doing it the right way, Bones. You deserve flowers and dates and slow seduction." He explained, matching the smirk that twitched at her lips, and she nodded thoughtfully. None of those things really mattered to her, but she understood the anthropological significance for Booth to be able to perform these rituals.

"Okay, tell me about the first person you ever had to kill?" She asked, and watched as he gulped. She reached for his hand, squeezing gently, and he smiled softly at her.

"Broadsky's latest victim?" Angela asked as they wheeled the body of the crooked cop up onto the forensics platform. Broadsky had taken the shot from his perch atop a building, right into the men's bathroom of the courthouse. They'd been seconds too late, having assumed he'd be shooting for the women's room, and only belatedly realizing their mistake.

"I clipped his gun before he could lower it. I know I did." Booth told them, his face was riddled with guilt. Brennan felt guilty too. She hadn't been able to locate a marker, a flag of some kind, anything to give Booth the wind reading fast enough. If she had been able to, maybe Booth would have had a better shot at stopping Broadsky once and for all. Maybe the victims of this cop would get to see justice served with his sentencing, and Broadsky's victims might too.

"You did." Brennan assured him as she pulled the zipper down the front of the body bag. "He will need time to adapt, to adjust to his new circumstances."

"Where would one acquire another weapon of that caliber? Perhaps it will deter him from any further vendettas." Mr. Nigel-Murray suggested hopefully, but they all knew that wouldn't stop him.

"You're a genius, kid! I owe you one!" Booth shouted waving at them as he jogged down the steps away from the body and out of the automatic doors.

"There aren't many people with the ability to take the type of shots Broadsky has been taking." Brennan commented. "Those are the people who would have a rifle suitable for Broadsky's purposes." She informed her student quietly.

Someone like Booth.

"I want you to stay with me tonight." Booth said, following Brennan into her office. He'd rushed out earlier to chase down a lead, leaving the squints to complete the autopsy for the official report. Not that they weren't aware of how this man died. Booth had come back with some very viable ideas, telling them he was having a former sniper, and someone Broadsky had mentored, brought in for questioning in the morning.

She sat down at her desk, determined, despite her exhaustion, to get her report complete immediately, but she froze at his words. She glanced up at him slowly, gauging his emotional status. They'd been very well behaved in the last month, relearning how to be 'just friends' and enjoy each other's company with their clothes intact, but she could certainly relate to the desire to seek comfort in losing themselves in each other's bodies. She certainly didn't think she'd be able to say no if he'd asked.

"That's quite presumptuous, Agent booth." she teased, aiming to lighten the situation, but he flashed only the slightest smirk at her. She'd thought it had been quite humorous since they'd already had sexual intercourse, and he'd bought her dinner many times. Perhaps her timing was simply inappropriate. She'd ask Angela later.

"Not like– not like that, all right?" he chastised her, and she felt bad for making a joke when they were all so distraught, but he followed up with a flirty wink, soothing the burn of her misplaced social interaction. "I just need to know that you're safe, okay?" He implored her, his eyes wide and pained.

"Okay." she agreed quietly. Arguing was useless, and she knew she'd feel better knowing he was safely tucked away where she could see him too. "Do you mind if I bring my work home with me?" she asked, instantly realizing that she'd referred to Booth's place as home. He didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't react. He nodded tiredly and scrubbed his hand over his face. She could see his five o'clock shadow, and she ached to stroke her own hand over the stubble on his face.

By the time they'd made it to Booth's apartment, Brennan was feeling her own exhaustion pulling at her. She'd sat down on his couch next to him, immediately pulling out her laptop, and proceeded to sit there staring blankly at the empty screen.

"It can wait, Bones." Booth's voice cut in, and she looked up as he was reaching over to close her laptop. "Tomorrow." He told her firmly, placing the computer on the coffee table in front of them. She watched his hands as he reached for the remote, admiring the minute movements beneath his skin as his phalanges flexed.

His perfect, dexterous, skillful phalanges…

"You okay?" he asked, glancing over at her as he flipped a black and white film onto the television screen. She nodded silently, meeting his eyes, and he tilted his head toward the screen. Clara Bow entered the frame, and Brennan glanced back at Booth, finding him with a knowing smirk gracing his features. She'd told him about her love of Clara Bow years ago, during their first undercover operation in Las Vegas. It was her inspiration for Roxy.

She knew it was tempting fate, but she shifted closer to him, tucking herself into his side. His arm wrapped around her shoulder without hesitation, as she rested her cheek against his chest. When she was confident that he was engrossed in the film, she tilted her chin to look up at him, observing him through lidded eyes. He looked so tired and weary. He'd told her once that foster children carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, but she was quite certain the same was true of Booth.

Of its own accord, her hand stroked large soothing circles over his chest. She watched his face as his eyes fell closed and the tension in his body seemed to release.

"Feels nice." He murmured quietly. She smiled, tilting her chin further and brushing her lips across his jaw in a feather light kiss. He hummed his approval, his arm tightening around her, so she did it again, this time closer to his mouth. He tensed when her third kiss brushed over his slightly parted lips. She moved to pull away, realizing her mistake. She'd crossed the line again. It had been so natural to do so, though. She hadn't even been thinking about it. His arm tightened more when she'd tried to pull away. "Don't stop." He murmured, tilting his own chin down to meet her lips.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth as he pulled her over his lap, straddling his legs as his hands found a home on her hips. She moaned into his mouth as one of his hands slid between them, tugging the zipper of her jeans down. Those skillful phalanges sneaked into the new space, stroking her with a barely-there touch through her panties.

"Take these off." He murmured against her lips as he playfully tugged at her pants. She laughed, rising gracefully from his lap. He leaned forward keeping her standing close to him with a hand on her waist. As she shimmied the jeans over her hips, his lips left a trail of feather-light kisses over her stomach. "These too." he murmured, nipping the side of her panties between his teeth.

As she kicked them away and stood between his knees, he slid his hands up her stomach, lifting her shirt with them. "Now this." he requested softly, and she crossed her arms around her waist, gripping the hem and pulling it over her head. Playfully, she tossed the shirt in his face and reached behind her back to unsnap her bra. "Perfect." he whispered as he tossed the shirt and pulled her back down in his lap.

"You're overdressed." she muttered petulantly against his mouth as his hands smoothed up and down her bare back. He chuckled against her mouth before startling her as, in one swift movement, she was suddenly horizontal on the couch with Booth's broad body hovering over her. Kneeling with one leg between her knees and the other foot planted on the floor, he smiled down at her and untucked his dress shirt. With a yank at either side of the perfectly pressed shirt, he ripped it open, sending tiny buttons flying in every direction and exposing his beautifully defined torso to her.

"Better?" he asked, flinging the shirt off of his arms, and she nodded mutely as her eyes greedily feasted on his body. "You're oogling me." he teased, and she finally met his eyes, smirking at him.

"And yet, you remain overdressed." she defended with an arched brow. He chuckled as her hands slid down his chest and stomach toward the button on his dress pants. "As much I love you in a suit…" she muttered, yanking roughly at the button clasp until it popped open.

"You're bossy and demanding." he muttered, foiling her plans as he leaned over and wrapped his mouth around one puckered nippled.

She groaned at the contact and threaded her fingers through his hair. "You're one to talk. I believe you just bossed me and demanded I remove all of my clothing." She tried to scold him, but the effect was lost as she responded to his attention.

He hummed a non-committal response against her breast as his hands trailed up and down her sides, sending goosebumps rippling out in every direction. His mouth switched breasts, paying equal attention to her other nipple and leaving her now wet one hardening even further in the coolness of his apartment. His hand slid over her thigh, and his thumb stretched toward her pulsing sex. She could have screamed in sweet agony at his thumb's first stroke over her clitoris. It felt like it had been years since his hands had been on her… in her. She'd felt an emptiness since they'd decided to abstain, like void had formed within her in the absence of his touch.

"Please…" she didn't care that she was begging when he'd barely touched her yet. She wanted him, needed him. "Booth…"

With his patented cocky grin, he slid lower on the couch and planted a wet kiss on the inside of her thigh, making his intentions very clear. She sobbed as he trailed the tip of his tongue in a smooth wet line from her knee to the juncture of her thigh. The instant relief at his lips finally wrapping around her throbbing clitoris was fleeting and replaced by the urgency to feel even more of him. Ever attuned to her every need, his fingers joined his mouth, stroking her and spreading her, sliding inside of her and stretching her body around him.

"Right there." she muttered, unconsciously canting her hips to meet his strokes as his fingers curled inside her. "Don't stop." she whimpered, gripping his hair.

It hadn't been ten minutes since they'd plopped onto his couch, Booth with a beer and Bones with her laptop before he glanced over to find her out cold. He shook his head and silently mocked her whole "Can I bring my work home?" routine. He hadn't bothered to argue with her about them both needing rest.

Yea, baby, bring your work home. You'll be asleep before you even start it. He'd thought to himself when she'd said it. He tried to keep his features schooled at the thought of her calling his place home though; he didn't want to spook her or give her any ideas further to her initial assumption about his invitation– as much as he'd love to wrap her up in his arms and make love to her until the sun came up. He really felt like they'd been making progress, like his nightly confessions had been helpful at showing her he wanted to be 100% open with her about every single thing. No secrets. She needed to know that he'd never keep anything from her, never hurt her, never treat her any less than she deserved ever again.

Reaching over, he carefully lifted her precariously perched laptop from the arm of the couch and closed it, placing it on the table in front of them. She shifted in her sleep, her head lolling to the side in an unnatural way, so he grabbed a throw pillow and propped her back up as best he could without waking her.

As he rose from the couch to go get her a blanket, she moaned, and he glanced back over at her. Her features were strained, her brow furrowed, and he wondered if she was having a bad dream. She mumbled his name, and he hurried to sit back down. "I'm right here, Bones. Come on. It's just a dream." he tried to sooth her, hoping she'd be able to chase away the dream without waking up. It wasn't uncommon for either of them to pass out on the couch only to wake up in cold sweats to the other shaking them awake from whatever hell they'd been experiencing.

"Please." she mumbled again, and he stroked his hand over her hair. "Don't stop." she sighed through her slightly parted lips as her hips lifted briefly.

Initially, his hand whipped back like he'd been burned, but he couldn't help the cheeky smirk that twitched at his mouth. Bones was definitely having a bad dream, all right. Bad, bad, naughty dream… about him. He suddenly felt like a pervert, sitting there watching her face, wondering what they were doing in her dream. He debated waking her, wondering if she'd be embarrassed, but another part of him wanted their dream selves to get what their real selves weren't right now. Real Bones certainly seemed to be enjoying herself too.

Quietly, he rose from his seat again and headed toward the bathroom, reciting a few saints when she moaned his name again.

Wrapping a towel around his waist following the most unsatisfying shower he'd ever taken, he headed back toward his bedroom, nearly bumping into a stumbling, half-awake, very flushed looking Bones in the hallway.

"Booth!" she gasped, clearly startled as her eyes trailed over his wet chest. "I thought you'd be naked. Sleeping. I thought– I thought you were sleeping." she corrected herself, and he tried not to be too cocky about her little slip up.

"About to head to bed. Just needed a shower." he told her in a tone that was much huskier than was entirely necessary, but he was enjoying how flustered she was, especially knowing what she'd been dreaming about. He wondered to himself if her dream had made her come and then scolded himself for wanting to slide his hand down the front of her jeans and find out just how wet her panties were. "Do you need anything?" he asked, meaning pajamas or a blanket, but she nodded, he almost hoped she'd ask for something he'd given her in her dream.

"Bathroom." she muttered, pointing at the steamy space he'd just vacated before brushing past him and locking herself inside.

Once he'd slipped his own sweatpants on, he rifled through his drawers to find a smaller pair for her, grabbing an old sweatshirt for her too. He smiled at the memory of the last time she'd been wrapped up in his clothes. They'd almost made love in her bed that day. It was only a couple of months ago now, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. He almost wished their first time had been that day instead of in the dank bathroom at the Founding Fathers.

Taking the sweats, he knocked on the bathroom door, listening to the sound of the shower turn off. "I got you something to put on, Bones." he called through the door. She opened it, wrapped in Parker's Pokemon towel. It was probably the last clean one in there, and he kicked himself. He needed to do the damn laundry soon. His ire was quickly replaced by desire as he watched rivulets of water roll down her neck and shoulders, disappearing between her breasts, hidden under a damn Pikachu.

She cleared her throat, and he blushed as he met her eyes again. She was clearly refreshed and awake enough now, unlike the blushing, sleepy Bones who had Freudian-slipped her way into the bathroom only ten minutes ago.

"Cute." he commented, tugging on the edge of her towel in an effort to cut through the sexual tension.

"Yes, I thought so also. How adorable, a grown man with cartoon towels to match his cartoon socks." She replied dryly with a raise of her brow. Says the boring bone lady who only owns crisp whist towels that probably cost a month's rent per set. He thought to himself. He'd never admit how much he loved her bath towels.

"It's Parker's towel." he defended without mentioning his socks, still toying with the edge of the offending article where it sat high on her thigh.

"Perhaps, I should remove it then." She suggested, and he felt a real physical pain knowing he'd have to stop this exchange very soon. "Lest you develop another aversion to an inanimate piece of cloth that I choose to wear." she smirked.

"I like the robe now. Consider me Pavlov's success story." he murmured, glad that she'd taken to teasing him instead of stripping in front of him and expecting him to keep his hands to himself.

Smiling like the damn Cheshire cat, she reached out and took the sweats from his hands, keeping eye contact with him as she backed back into the bathroom. "Excuse me." she murmured, closing the door, and he exhaled heavily.

"Shit." he muttered to himself, shaking his head at the risky game they were playing as he grabbed a pillow and some sheets for the couch.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and he opened his eyes to find her standing over him at the edge of the couch.

"I was falling asleep." He replied dryly, and she crossed her arms. "You go take the bed." he instructed her, but she shook her head, her eyes wide with horror.

"No. You take the bed. You're much larger than me. I can fit on the couch better." She offered up excuse after excuse.

"Bones, Parker kicks in his sleep. I have spent many-a-night on this couch." he told her, hoping she'd just drop it and go to bed.

"No. I– I'll sleep in the chair, then." she told him, and he shot up. She was being ridiculous.

"Are we in a competition about who can be the most uncomfortable tonight?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood. Something was up with her, and neither of them were going to get any rest until they figured it out.

"I will be more comfortable here." she told him, sitting down on the couch next to him, picking absently at nonexistent lint on the sheet he'd put down.

"More comfortable on my lumpy couch than in a top of line posturepedic bed? You know what I spent on that thing?" he challenged, trying for humor, but she wasn't budging. She did know. She'd recommended it to him after learning of his back problem. She'd assured him it would help to have proper support while he slept. She'd been right about that, just like everything else.

"I– I'm not comfortable sleeping in her bed." she muttered finally, unable to meet his eyes.

He hesitated only a moment as her words sank in before he rose from the couch. "I'm sorry, Bones. I didn't even think of that." He told her honestly. He didn't consider it Hannah's bed. Hell, Hannah barely slept in it between all of traveling for her job. It was his bed, and she'd slept in it before, which was yet another reminder of how their relationship over the years had always bordered on inappropriately close. "Come on, lay down." he instructed her, watching as she begrudgingly let him pull the blankets up.

"You're tucking me in." she commented with a knowing smirk, and he laughed, shaking his head at her. "If you recall–"

"Oh, I recall." he stopped her, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. "This one doesn't count." he whispered, before flashing a grin and heading toward his bedroom, thinking of her words as he'd tucked her into her own bed. "I always sleep better after an orgasm." her words replayed in his head on a loop. She'd sleep great tonight then. "Oh, and Bones?" He called her from his doorway. "Mmmm…" he groaned at the memory. "You talk in your sleep." he whispered conspiratorially, watching as realization dawned on her beautiful face before he closed the door.

Booth fidgeted behind her as Brennan examined the body before her. This was the second fleshy corpse she'd dealt with this week alone. If it wasn't for this case, she'd have stepped aside and let Cam deal with it alone, but there was a kinship between them; they had a symbiosis in these Broadsky-related bodies. She'd glady been assistant to the coroner on these particular bodies.

"I'm confident that this is Matthew Leishenger." Cam said, glancing up at Brennan. "Do you concur?" She asked, and Brennan nodded. This man on their slab, who had been beaten nearly unrecognizable, and had his throat cut, was in fact, Matthew Leishenger, a sniper who owned a rifle that would suit Broadsky's needs effectively. The rifle in question had yet to be recovered. Brennan hadn't expected them to locate it. Broadsky had killed this man in the name of his mission, and his current mission was to kill Booth.

Booth had spoken to Leishenger just yesterday, telling him that Broadsky might approach him. Leishenger had assured them he didn't think Broadsky was capable of what they were accusing, but that if anyone wanted his rifle, they'd have to prise it from his cold dead hands.

She ripped off her gloves and threw them into the bin, turning to face Booth. He was putting on a front but she could tell he was as nervous as the rest of them.

"You got the call tracer ready?" Booth asked, glancing at Angela where she stood on the other side of the platform. They were ready this time. Broadsky would call soon. His pattern was predictable, and this time they would locate him. Angela had been perfecting her program, preparing for this. Ensuring that the speed at which the program ran would surpass the various proxies Broadsky had in place before he ended the call.

"We'll get him, Booth." Brennan told him, placing her hand over his crossed arms, hesitating only briefly before closing the distance and squeezing his forearm.

They'd been slowly moving back toward each other, but had been very clear about the proverbial line, mostly, until a few nights ago. They'd flirted with that line that night in his apartment. She'd dreamt that they'd crossed it again, but ultimately, they hadn't. She was confident that, based on the progress they'd made, that they'd be ready by October, possibly much sooner. She knew how important it would be to him, so she'd been helping by encouraging him with his confessions, pushing him to see that she did, in fact, trust him with her proverbial heart.

Booth's phone rang, startling them all and interrupting whatever he'd been about to say. Everyone looked to Angela, staring as she attempted to initiate a connection.

"Bring it closer." She instructed them and Brennan, standing closer to Angela, took the phone out of Booth's hand.

"Ready?" Brennan asked, pressing the answer button at Angela's nod and bringing the phone up to her ear.

A/N: Does the sparky bit make up for what I've just done? Are you worried? Are you scared?