Author's Note: This chapter's kinda short, but I try to never contrive length from material that is clearly not desirous to be stretched. I have some of Chapter three done already, and it will be up as soon as it's all ready, which will hopefully be before I go to Grandma's on the 23rd for my b-day. I would just like you to know that I write with pencil and paper and then type it up, which is where I do all my refining…In this case I changed almost the entire chapter, rearranged it on the spot, turned it all into dialogue…so it took awhile to perfect. I like it better this way. Thank you all for your kind support and attention to my first Bones fic. Also, if you like this, take a look at DeathAndTheJabberwocky. I of course am the Jabberwocky, and my friend Death and I get together to write all sorts of fun stuff. We've finally decided to start posting it-so we'll be out here in a few weeks. (Maybe this way, we'll actually finish a story. I think we're working on 2,759,436,524,937. Give or take a few.) Happy Holidays!

Disclaimer: If I owned Bones, Zach wouldn't have cut his hair.

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Brennan's POV

"Temperance!" I jerked awake. Booth's concerned face snapped into view. For a second, I was too shocked to do anything but stare at him, memorizing his face, before I buried my head on his shoulder and cried. Such emotional release in a safe environment is vital for the mind's ability to process and cope with new stressors. And, despite my assertions to the contrary, there is no place I feel safer than wherever Booth is.

In the middle of the night, while my subconscious splays colorful and often incomprehensible images and scenarios across the inside of my eyelids, my fears would arise and wage war against my peace of mind. The tumultuous battle would invariable rouse me from my sleep. Which is how I found myself ensconced in Booth's arms. I scanned the substance of my dreams and noticed that the worst had not presented itself. I then realized that Booth must have woken me before my insecurities could summon such horrific reinforcements.

My own sobs lessened, and I began to be able to decipher Booth's previously unnoticed whisperings.

"Its okay, Bones. Come on, let it out. Let it go, so it can't hurt you anymore. You're safe; I'm right here with you, and, as long as I'm here, I won't let anything hurt you. And I promise, I'm not going to leave you." Booth's voice was soft and his breath warm against my ear. I felt myself relax and my heartbeat slow.

"Thank you." I murmured when I had regained the power of speech.

"I'm happy to help." He told me, his every expression displaying sincerity. He pulled back to search my face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I felt my lower lip be grasped between my teeth, and I looked down, uncertainly. After an infinitesimal infinity, I nodded. However, I made no move to initiate the conversation. After an expectant pause, Booth began.

"Can you tell me what the dream is about?" He asked soothingly.

"It's not the dream." I said haltingly.

"Than what is it?"

I didn't answer.

"Bones…"

"What?"

"Stop stalling."

"Booth's POV

I had expected at least a token rebuttal to that accusation, but she just seemed flustered and slightly ashamed.

"The dream itself seems irrelevant until the end, but throughout it, there's feeling of…the truth is, I'm scared." I'm sure I looked incredulous, but I was silent, hoping she would continue.

"Booth, I don't really expect you to understand, but I was abandoned at fifteen. I was scared, and I was hurt, and I pushed away Russ, who was the only person who cared for me. The state, in its infinite wisdom, punted me from foster-home to foster-home. At first, I really did try, Booth. I made a real effort to get along with my caretakers, even form an attachment, but I soon realized that an attachment led only to more pain at the inevitable separation.

"So…yes, Booth, I was petrified with fear. Fear…fear that I-had forgotten how to trust. Fear that I would be abandoned again…or worse, that I would abandon someone I loved to face that same pain." She was crying again, tears streaming down her face. I had opened a whole can of worms, and was soaking it all up. I had never had such an honest glimpse into the beautifully intriguing enigma that is Temperance Brennan. I wiped her tears and held her close, reveling in my sudden permission for such conduct while she recomposed herself.

"Obviously," she began in a forcedly light tone, "I can't read people. And, if I can't understand someone and accurately judge their character, how would it be possible for me to learn to love them?"

"Hey, hey." I broke this train of thought with a gentle chide. "If you couldn't love people, you wouldn't have the love of Zach, or Hodgins, or Angela." Or me, I silently added. "You have proved to them and to me that you are one of the people most worthy of love, and most loving, though you hardly know it yourself."

Brennan's eyes met mine again, a slight blush just visible in the warm, dim, yellow light from the nightlights she had plugged in case I needed something in the night. A small smile now graced her lips.

"Thank you, Booth." We held eye contact for a minute longer before she yawned and glance at the clock, which read 3:17 am-never a good time to be up. Just looking at the clock made me yawn.

"We should probably go back to sleep, lots of paperwork tomorrow,." I stated wryly.

This time, when we lay down, I pulled her into my arms only mildly self-conscious. Brennan settled herself against me in a most gratifying notion of trust.

"Thank you." She whispered again

"For what?"

"For keeping away the nightmares."

"Um, Bones, I think I was pretty useless at that." I tried to remind her, but she just shook her head.

"Nope, trust me on this one, Booth." And how am I to me reasonably expected to argue with that? I know when to shut up and accept a compliment, however misplaced.