AN: Ah, chapter 2 in such a short time? Yeah, I'm hoping it will get people to review. (hint hint, nudge nudge, wink wink)

Disclaimer: Please understand. If these guys were mine, there never would have been a Cam. But then, I'd have jumped the shark and no one would have been interested anymore.

Missing
Deputy Director Cullen paused in the doorway, his eyes resting on who would have been his favorite agent, if he was allowed to have favorites. Cullen noticed how Booth's eyes had flicked to his phone several times in the span of a minute. He sighed. He didn't want to have this conversation with Booth, but after the phone call he'd just gotten, it was necessary.

Cullen had not become Deputy Director by accident. He'd earned it fair and square, working his way up the ladder and networking with the appropriate people. He had been smart enough to keep in touch with most of his contacts, and had earned the respect of many people in the US government, which is why he knew where Dr. Temperance Brennan had gone, and why he had gotten the phone call today.

Cullen stepped into the office, and Booth raised his head, surprise coloring his features. Usually, he was called to Cullen's office; and he couldn't remember Cullen ever coming to him, and this immediately put Booth on edge.

He stood, "Sir. I - … What can I help you with?" Booth assumed a case was the most likely reason Cullen was in his office.

"Booth, please sit. I don't have a case for you, I need to-"

The phone rang, and Booth lunged for it, completely ignoring the Deputy Director in front of him. "Booth," he answered, with hope evident on his face. But, when the person on the other end of the line began to speak, Booth's face fell, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, Taylor, that's fine. I'll get the paperwork from you tomorrow. Thanks."

Resting the handset on the cradle, Booth sighed. His eyes remained locked on the phone, his agitation growing as the minutes ticked by. Why isn't she calling?

"Booth."

Booth, startled, brought his eyes back to Cullen. He'd completely forgotten Cullen was there, and offered an apologetic smile and a shrug, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm waiting for an important call."

"Yes, Agent Booth. I know. Dr. Brennan." Cullen supplied. To which Booth nodded, staring at the phone again.

The silence between the two men was deafening. Cullen wasn't one to soften any blows, but his next sentence really caught Booth off guard.

"She won't be calling tonight," Cullen started, unsure of Booth's reaction to this news.

"What?" Booth was confused. Looking at Cullen's face, though, Booth's heart stopped, and he could feel a sinking sensation across his entire body. "What do you know?" he asked quietly.

Cullen sighed, "I got a call," he began, "from a contact I have at the State Department. Something happened in Darfur, and Dr. Brennan's team was ambushed. As of right now, your Dr. Brennan is unaccounted for."

Booth dropped heavily into his chair, a dull roar rushing through his ears, unaware of the silent tears spilling down his face.

Angela sighed. That day, she had wallowed for a few hours until she heard the commotion on the platform, and realized that Booth was taking it just as hard as she had. She had watched the exchange, and had heard the door slam; Angela had felt sorry for Booth. She had to admit, she was feeling selfish, too, wanting Brennan to stay. But, she knew her friend, and knew this was something she wanted to do.

The day of departure was slowly approaching, and Angela was worrying more and more about Brennan and Booth's relationship. Since Brennan had announced her eight month sabbatical, things around the lab had been strained. Booth rarely stopped by the lab even when there was casework; he'd resorted to phone calls and emails, which was entirely unlike Booth.

Angela slouched sideways against the door frame of Brennan's office, silently observing her friend. Brennan was sitting at her desk, a pen poised in her right hand, a case file in front of her, and staring off into space.

"Bren?" Angela said softly, yet still startling her friend, "Sweetie, are you okay?"

Brennan shot a surprised look at Angela, and shook her head as if to clear the thoughts that had been dancing in front of her moments ago. "I'm fine, Ange. Just need to finish this paperwork so Zach doesn't have to do it after I leave on Monday."

Angela straightened up, entering her office and shutting the door quietly. "Bren. Something is going on in that pretty little head of yours, and this may be the last chance I get to bother you about it for eight months." Angela attempted a joke, as she settled herself on the sofa. She intended to stay right there until they had this conversation.

Brennan was silent and Angela was patient (for once). When Brennan got up from her desk and started pacing the room, Angela maintained her gaze on her friend, and kept her mouth shut. She could see the wheels turning in Brennan's head, and this time she wasn't going to interrupt her train of thought.

Finally, Brennan came to a stop in front of the couch, and looked resolutely at Angela, with a face that indicated she was about to spill a huge secret.

"Booth's not taking this well."

Angela suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, "No, he's not, Bren."

"I don't know what happened. Our partnership operated more smoothly after he began seeing the therapist, and he's been much happier since … well, since Sully left. I think he was glad to get his 'turf' back." Brennan used air quotes (appropriately, thought Angela) around the word turf.

"He was also glad to get you back." Angela was expecting the usual exclamation that followed this type of comment about Booth and Brennan. Angela could not suppress her surprise when she heard Brennan's quiet admission.

"I know."

"Tell me," Angela prodded, unsure of what Brennan had figured out on her own.

Brennan shot her a pointed look, crossing her arms, and Angela pushed again, "Talk it out. I can help, I promise. Even if you don't want me to give any advice, it will be good to talk it out."

After a small pause, Brennan spoke in a frustrated whisper, "Wh - … I don't… I – Oh, Ange," Brennan sank into a chair opposite Angela, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. "I have no idea what's going on. He asked, 'what about us?' and I told him I'd come back." Brennan paused, lifting her eyes to Angela with a look of puzzled shock on her face, "I told him I'd come back to him."

Angela was impressed. And excited. And sad. She waited, though; she knew there was more.

"Ange, since then, he's been avoiding me. Assuming he knew what I meant, I guess I thought we'd spend more time together, not less. Anthropologically speaking, though, if he assumes we're still just partners and he doesn't expect me to," here, Brennan took a deep breath, "return," she exhaled, "I suppose it is self-preservation."

"What did you mean when you said that, Bren?" Angela knew hoping for an admission of love was out of the question.

"It's… He's… You know I don't…"

Angela grabbed Brennan's hands, which had been fidgeting and playing with her own fingers. She'd never seen her friend this flustered.

Brennan looked up, "I can't explain it. I don't know if I believe in forever. But, if I did, he'd be it."

Angela pulled her into a hug, whispering to her friend, "Then, tell him that."

AN 2: Maybe it is unrealistic to think that Brennan would figure it out, and be the one to first admit it out loud. Or maybe it's just OOC. Apologies.