Only if I Chapter 7, a bones fanfic

There is no excuse for how long this update took. Actually, I do have a few excuses and some of there are quite entertaining, but that isn't what you are here to read so ….

I want to give a huge thanks to astridv for editing this story and teaching me about dialogue tags and comma usage. Wait, did I need a comma in there somewhere? Seriously, I've learned a lot from you so far. Thanks!!

"She's here," Hodgins answered, studying him carefully. He was surprised by Booth's anger. "Where have you been?"

"Where have I been?" he repeated, his voice rising. "I've been dealing with all the shit that happened tonight." Surveying the apartment, Booth zeroed in on the closed door at the end of the hall.

"Hold on," said Hodgins, stepping in front of Booth. Though Booth stood much taller, he held his ground. "She's with Angela."

Booth glared at him, not about to be waylaid. "Yeah, well, I just want to get Bones and go home." He moved to go around Hodgins, but Hodgins put a hand on his chest to stop his advance.

"I'm not sure she is going to want to go with you, man," Hodgins said carefully. When Booth didn't back off, Hodgins continued, "Maybe if you had been here earlier. Man, she just sat there on the couch, wouldn't change her clothes or clean up. I think she was waiting for you."

Booth felt like his friend had punched him in the stomach. It wasn't a good thing that she had left him at the hospital, he knew that. But over the last few hours he had managed to convince himself that she was tired, upset and needed to get out of there. He knew how she felt; it was hard to imagine a worse first date for the two of them. The pounding in his skull intensified and he rubbed at his temples. If only Blackwell hadn't been informed of the situation; Cullen would've eventually calmed down and been far more understanding. Once Director Blackwell was on the scene, there was no chance of slipping away to chase after Bones. Booth had to convince him not to send an officer after Brennan and haul her back, though he was briefly tempted.

The expression on Booth's face softened slightly, but his voice was still harsh as he said, "You know, she's the one who left. I was standing right there, but she got into a cab instead." He focused his attention on the wall behind Hodgins and added quietly, "She didn't say a word."

The room was silent. Booth's chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. Hodgins waited, knowing that somewhere inside, he was struggling with a decision. Booth gave one last glance towards the closed door, and collapsed onto the couch. A loud burst of air passed through his lips and he sighed deeply, releasing the anger. He lowered his head into his hands. How could he tell her?

Angela heard the muffled sounds of an angry male voice and figured that Booth had finally arrived. Glancing at the bathroom, where Brennan had finally consented to a shower, she briefly considered going out there and giving Booth a piece of her mind. However, she stayed put, realizing it might be best to give Jack some time to talk to him. Maybe calm him down a bit. Leaning back against her chair, Angela took a deep breath, hoping now that Booth was here, things would be better. Her friend's withdrawn demeanor worried her.

Once Brennan's outburst of sobs subsided, she'd turned to Angela and matter-of-factly explained the events that had transpired. After her sparse account, they sat quietly on the couch. Whatever Angela tried, be it comfort or further conversation, Brennan refused. Eventually, Angela gave up and retrieved her sketchbook. Before sitting back down, she spread a blanket across Brennan's lap, a gesture that elicited a quiet, "thank you." Angela began to draw, knowing better than to push any further right now. She definitely did not want Brennan to go storming out alone. Casting a furtive glance across the room, Angela caught Jack's eye. He was sitting on a chair in the corner leafing through a professional journal. His reassuring smile gave Angela strength.

The old clock in the corner chimed loudly as midnight came. "Ange, I would like to change if you have some clothes I could borrow," Brennan finally said. Angela jumped when she spoke, having settled into the thick silence.

"Sure, sweetie," Angela said, setting her sketchbook down. Taking her hand, Angela led her down the hall, Brennan following docilely.

The mirror's reflection caught her eye and Brennan turned, studying herself critically, expecting to see some sort of physical manifestation of the turmoil she was feeling. And she did. Her eyes were red rimmed from tears, and her complexion was quite pale. She rubbed at a spot of dirt the nurse had missed.

Carefully, she peeled the bandage back, revealing the angry red wound. All stitched up, the wound looked smaller, just a thin two-inch line; the plastic surgeon's stitches perfectly straight and even. He had assured her the scar would be barely visible. As if that mattered. As if she would be able to forget the sear of hot pain as the bullet cut through, or the sight of Booth diving and his body flinching as he was hit. And the man she had shot, well, she didn't have an image to accompany that. This time she would only remember the darkness. It made her feel both grateful and guilty.

The ruined dress lay on the floor by her feet, the right side stained red with her blood. Disgusted by the sight of it, she picked it up and crammed it into the trash can. She was about to throw her shoes in as well, and their condition probably warranted it, but she stopped. For whatever reason, she felt oddly attached to them. And, she reasoned, the swat team guy had gone to all the trouble of bringing them to her. So she slipped them on instead of throwing them away.

Maybe Booth isn't coming, Brennan thought suddenly. Not that she was actually waiting for him; she just expected him to be here. He could find her anywhere, if he wanted too, that is. She'd assumed she was already numb, but the thought of him not showing up made it harder to breathe. But then so did the thought of Booth standing in front of her. She couldn't help but feel that everything would have been different had they not been dating. Most likely they wouldn't have been out there in the first place, and if by chance they had been, they probably wouldn't have been so wrapped up in arguing that they abandoned caution.

There was no use dwelling on it now; it was too late to change anything.

Brennan finished dressing and checked her appearance carefully. It was time for her to go. She had fled to Angela's needing the compassion and understanding of her best friend, knowing that Angela would never judge her as harshly as she judged herself. Even Hodgins had been great, but they had done enough. Home, alone was where Brennan always ended up. Now she just had to convince Angela to actually let her go. She squared her shoulders and walked confidently out the door, only to be stopped dead by Angela's whispered warning.

"He's here."

"What?" Brennan whispered back, staring at the door as if she expected Booth to burst through at any moment. Of course, he would arrive the moment she decided she could leave without him.

"Aren't you going out there?" Angela asked.

Shaking her head, Brennan sat back down on the bed. She took great interest in the material on Angela's bedspread to avoid meeting her questioning gaze. Once again, she found it hard to breathe. Maybe I have a respiratory infection, she thought fleetingly.

"I left," She said simply.

"Left what?" Angela prompted.

"Left Booth. At the hospital."

"Sweetie, you were upset. I'm sure he understands." Angela looked towards the door. She no longer heard any sound coming from the other side.

"I should have been there professionally, if for no other reason. There will be questions and official statements to be submitted."

"And?" Angela knew that wasn't the only thing bothering Brennan.

"And," Brennan took a deep breath and looked up at her friend, "he thinks I'm going to leave, 'Freak out,' he calls it, and end our relationship. I can see it in his eyes sometimes."

Angela made a sympathetic face, but stayed quiet. In her opinion, Booth's fears were not entirely unfounded.

"I don't plan to, but sometimes I think Booth knows what I will do before I do. And tonight, I was just going out for some fresh air and next thing I know I'm practically running for a cab. Besides," Brennan continued miserably, "if Booth had a real partner he might not have gotten hurt in the first place."

"Now, Bren, you know that isn't true. You are probably better than most of the FBI agents and Booth knows it, or he would never take you out of the lab." Angela crossed the room and took her friend's hand, coaxing her to her feet. "And Booth is one of the best and you still got hurt. Now let's go, he is the one you should be telling all of this to."

Angela tugged, but her friend didn't follow. "I … I can't," Brennan stammered.

At her words, Angela pulled harder, "Yes, you can," she opened the door and dragged Brennan into the living room. Booth jumped off the couch the moment the door opened, but Angela continued before anyone else could speak. "Talk," she commanded. Booth and Brennan faced each other, several feet separating them. Neither spoke.

"Enough!" Angela threw her arms into the air after several minutes of silence. "You two have got to be the most stubborn and frustrating people I have ever met." Noticing their hurt looks, she added, "I know that you have been though hell tonight. You guys handle things that we know nothing about." Angela motioned towards Hodgins. "But luckily, you each have someone who knows exactly how you feel."

Booth and Brennan finally made eye contact with each other. But Angela wasn't done.

"I thought you two had finally acknowledged that you were perfect for each other. But no, instead you both feel like you aren't good enough. You, Booth," Angela said. His head snapped in her direction. "Your problem is guilt. I'm not sure if it is Catholic guilt, or a result of your past, but you need to get over it."

"And you," Brennan actually flinched as Angela turned her attention towards her. "Um … you have quite a few issues. So, we'll go with fear of abandonment. Not everyone is going to leave you. There are some of us that are pretty hard to get rid of."

Hodgins worked his way up behind his girlfriend who was so intent on her lecture that she didn't notice him. She jumped when he put his hand on her shoulder. "Angela," he said quietly, "I think you have made your point."

"Oh, right." She realized just what she had said. But she didn't apologize. In her opinion, it was good advice, if poorly delivered.

Clearing his throat, Hodgins moved around to Angela's side. He gave the couple a reassuring smile. "You'll get through this. Just go home, rest, and you know, maybe set some ground rules for mixing combat and formal wear."

Booth chuckled and saw Bones smile. The tension between them began to melt away. He held his hand out to her and nodded towards the front door. She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in his.

The awkward way Booth opened the passenger door for Brennan reminded her of his injury. She didn't sit in the passenger seat, but gently pushed him towards it instead.

"You shouldn't be driving with your arm."

"And you shouldn't be driving on pain killers," Booth countered.

"It's been hours, Booth. I am fine," Brennan insisted. Booth opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again at the look of steely determination in her eyes.

"I guess you're right," he said. "Thanks." The doctor had told Booth not to drive himself home from the hospital, but by the time he was allowed to leave, he was too single-minded in his focus to find Bones to heed the order.

Both were quiet as they climbed into the Suburban. Leaning over the back seat seat, Booth handed Brennan her small purse. She pulled her phone out and checked it automatically, but didn't register any of the calls. Then they drove in the general direction of their apartments. Brennan pulled up to the stoplight where she would have to turn towards one apartment or the other and waited for Booth to indicate a preference. When he didn't, she turned towards her own apartment.

Now that Booth was with alone with her, he felt a little better. She was unusually quiet however and he knew what was bothering her. Her right hand was laying on the armrest and Booth reached over and covered her hand with his, stilling her nervous twitching.

"I love you, Bones," Booth said, turning towards her to see her reaction. The street lights revealed a look of surprise on her face. "And you did the right thing tonight."

Brennan shook her head, "I was supposed to cover you and you got shot." She pulled her hand from under Booth's as she turned the corner.

Booth squeezed the armrest tightly. "How many shots did you fire?" he asked patiently.

"Four," she replied.

"And how many did I tell you to fire?"

"Four, but-"

"But nothing. Bones, what would have happened if you used all six shots and I had still been killed?" Booth asked bluntly and Brennan winced at the thought. "You never want to leave yourself exposed like that without a weapon. Survival is what is important." Booth finished doggedly as she parked in front of her building. He turned to her and smiled. "Your fire kept them from getting a clean shot at me."

She returned his smile, but it was weak. "What?" he asked.

"I don't understand how I can feel guilty because I killed one man and then feel guilty because I didn't kill the one who shot you," she admitted.

"I know, Temperance," Booth said sympathetically, "and there is no easy answer for that." He leaned across the seat and brushed her face. "I'm tired. Let's go upstairs."

He watched as she climbed slowly out of the seat, moving her sore right leg stiffly. It wasn't easy for him to stifle his powerful need to apologize profusely for allowing her to get hurt. Eventually he would, apologize for that, and for not being able to keep her from her second kill. For now though, it wouldn't do for him to confess his guilt while trying to alleviate hers. Somewhere in the back of his mind floated Angela's advice; not to let his guilt get in the way of their relationship.

As he came around the truck, Brennan was waiting for him, partially illuminated by the yellow glow of the streetlight. Once again, Booth was struck by how she could be both so strong and so vulnerable at the same time. She gave him a tentative smile and he felt his heart rate increase. When she left him at the hospital, scared and worried. But she had brought him here. Booth wrapped his good arm around her shoulders and they slowly made their way inside.

"Do you want something to eat?" she asked, putting down her purse. "I'm not hungry, but I could make something for you."

Booth was touched by her offer, but he wasn't hungry either. "No, I think I just need sleep." The fatigue that he had been fighting off was now crashing in. Brennan seemed to sense it and she crossed back to him.

"Then let's go to bed," she said, leading him into her bedroom. She changed quickly, happy to be out of Angela's ill fitting clothes and into her comfortable and familiar pajamas. Turning, she caught sight of Booth struggling to lift his shirt over his head. Brennan moved in front of him and slid her hands up his chest, carefully working the shirt up and over his wounded arm. Booth let it drop to the floor. She reached out and traced the edge of his bandage and found herself blinking back tears due to a surprising rush of affection.

"I love you too, Booth," she said softly.

Booth wrapped his arms around her and pulled her forward. Kissing her slowly before shifting and holding her tightly to him. He forgot about the throbbing in his bicep and his overwhelming fatigue, taking comfort from her words and closeness. Soon, he was going to have to tell her. He had promised himself he would do it tonight, but there was no way he could now. He wanted some time to savor the words he never thought he would hear her say.

Eventually she pulled away, fixing her tired eyes on Booth. "What is it?" she asked, startling him with her alert perception.

"Nothing." He lay back on the bed and motioned her to join him. "We better get some sleep. We are due at headquarters at eight."

A sigh escaped her lips. Tomorrow she would have to relieve the shootout over and over. Answering whatever questions the agents or the review board wanted.

"I know," Booth said, kissing the top of her head as she settled in next to him. "Tomorrow is going to be tough."

Ten minutes later, Booth's breathing had evened out, deep and slow. Brennan shifted, trying to find a position that didn't put too much weight on her hip. She lay in the dark, listening to Booth's regular breathing, and waited for sleep to come to her.

From her seat at the table, Brennan watched the early morning sun crept across the living room floor. She'd lain in bed for hours as Booth slept beside her, but her mind refused to rest. Instead of sleeping, she relieved each moment of the evening every time she closed her eyes. So she ended up at her kitchen table, waiting for the sun to rise.

Checking the line of sunlight, she decided she had better go back to bed. She didn't want Booth to wake up and think she had left again. It was too late; Booth was already awake. He reached out to feel the cold sheets next to him and knew she had been gone for a while. Stretching out his arms, he tried to clear the sleep from his mind. Today was going to be one hell of a day.

"Morning," Brennan said uncertainly from the doorway. Booth was going to ask if she had slept, but the dark skin under her eyes told him that she hadn't. He had hoped that she would be able to relax a bit once she got home. Obviously, that wasn't the case. "I was just …." Brennan trailed off as she tried to think of a lie.

"Not sleeping?" Booth supplied.

Brennan flushed and gave him a chagrined look. "I didn't want you to worry so I was going to sneak back in," she explained. "I'll go start some coffee."

Booth let her walk away, dreading the upcoming conversation.

"Bones, there is something we need to talk about," Booth said seriously, sitting down across from her. Her alert eyes were immediately on him.

"Director Blackwell got involved last night, with everything and," he began haltingly, "he had some … reservations about our relationship."

"Reservations?" she repeated.

Booth ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He might as well just say it. Bones wasn't one to pick up on subtleties. "Blackwell said that we could either continue to work together or continue to date. But not both."

Brennan stared at him as her mind took in the ultimatum. She had been so focused on the shootout that she had forgotten their relationship had been exposed. They had been so careful to keep it a secret and now, due to some ill-timed gunfire and fancy clothes, the secret was out.

"But that doesn't really matter, right?" she asked hopefully. "We will just be … discrete," she paused, searching for the right word.

Booth didn't answer right away. This was the part he had agonized over and, of course, Bones had gone there first. The thing was - she was right. It would be easy for them to continue their relationship in secret. It wasn't like they would be jumping each other at crime scenes. And they rarely saw any of the 'big' bosses, like Director Blackwell. But as much as he wanted to, Booth didn't think it was a good idea. He wanted to show her what a real relationship could be like. He wanted to show her that it was possible for them to make a life together. And he didn't want there to be any reason for her to feel bad or feel the need to hide it.

"I don't think so," he said, his eyes downcast. "We have to make a choice, Bones." The sudden anguish in her eyes was almost too much for him to bear. Booth knew what he was asking. Sully had given Brennan a similar choice, him or her work. Now he was asking her the same thing. It wasn't fair and he knew it.

"But-"

"We don't need to figure all this out right now," Booth interrupted gently, "but it will probably be mentioned this morning."

"Oh, right." Brennan said, shrinking back into the chair. "Of course."

It would be hard to go back to the way they were before, partners and friends only. But while it was difficult imagining her life without their newfound intimacy, it was impossible to imagine no longer working with him.

"Booth, what are we going to do?"

Please review and let me know what you thought.

Also, there will be one, perhaps two, more chapters to this story. And it won't take a month for the next one, I promise. Really, I do.