Heres the new chapter...i cant keep them away from each other for long...R/R thanks :)

It's all my fault.

Booth could hardly feel the pain anymore. It rocketed up from his fists, causing his arms to ache with every satisfying hit he took. He threw his whole body into his punches, trying to focus the rage that wouldn't stop coming.

He thought if he punched hard enough, that maybe the stinging and the blood staining his knuckles would take away from the aching he way feeling in his heart. The horrible agony that made him feel like he was going to break into two.

He wasn't sure how long he had been there. Swinging at the lone bag in the corner of the FBI gym. There was no one around, but who would be working out at 3 o'clock on a Monday.

People who had problems. People who were broken. People like them.

His knuckles stung like someone had just spilled rubbing alcohol on them, but he continued slamming his fists with vigor into the bag, relishing in the blood that stained the bag.

The sweat ran down his face, and he blinked it away, knowing that if he gave in for one moment he'd see her face again in his head. He couldn't stand that.

She had said that she needed time. Time to be away from him, to 'sort thing out'. Whatever the hell that meant. He knew it was just Brennan's way of saying that she wasn't sure if she wanted to be with him.

He hated that. That she was so unsure. And he knew the reason for her fear, for her apprehensions. It was him. He had left her. Just when she had needed him the most, he had deserted her.

He punched harder, wishing he could turn back time. That was why she felt she couldn't trust him. He had just been inevitability for her. He had made it possible for her to believe that no one would ever stick with her. For her it was now logical. The abandonment. She had the facts, the rational, the variables. That was his fault.

He didn't want to be just predictability to her. He wanted to be there for her. And he was afraid…so afraid that he had lost that chance.

His fists stung as he collided them hard against the bag, his entire bodies weight forced into that punch.

The things he had said to her. They were unforgivable. The way he had yelled at her. She didn't deserve that. She had just wanted to be honest with him, to tell him how she was feeling, and he had treated her like dirt. Like she was doing something wrong for not trusting him. She shouldn't feel guilty for his mistakes.

He always did this. Screwed things up. His whole life he'd been the one no one could count on. That's why he'd joined the Rangers. To find someone who could count on him. But that had just left him even more scarred then before.

The way people had counted on him, and the way he had let them down…had left him damaged forever. The way he had watched his fellow Rangers, his friends die in front of his eyes. They would tell him to run the life being drained from their eyes right in front of him. He had been the last thing they saw, and he couldn't save them.

He couldn't save Bones either. She probably wouldn't forgive him, and he knew that she would be damaged after that. She would never let anyone in again. He didn't want that for her.

"Booth."

He turned around, his exhaustion finally evident as he stopped punching, the sweat running down his body, his fists bleeding and stinging.

She was standing there. Her face unreadable, her eyes cloudy. She looked as if she was looking right through him.

"Bones, what are you doing here?"

She crossed her arms over her chest in self protection, finally resting her eyes on his.

"I made my decision."

He couldn't help but get his hopes up, she didn't smile. "And?"

"It's over Booth. I can't be with someone who doesn't care."

He clenched his fists, trying to meet her eyes, but she looked everywhere but at him.

"Bones that's not true and you know it."

She shook her head, and he was stunned to see no emotion cross her face. Her eyes were cold. This wasn't the Bones he knew. His Bones.

"Abandonment is a logical sign of not caring Booth."

"I didn't leave you."

"Now I'm leaving you Booth." She turned around, without even a second glance as Booth's heart shattered at her feet.

He yelled after her even after she was long gone, his voice cracking with tears he didn't want to shed. He didn't cry.

"I didn't leave you! I didn't leave you! Come back Bones…"

He punched the wall hard, his fist colliding hard with the cement that could have easily shattered the fragile bones in his knuckles.

"I didn't leave…I'm sorry….I'm so sorry."

He leaned his forehead against the wall, letting the hot tears mix with the sweat running down his face. His fists pressed hard against the blood-stained white cement. She was gone…forever. There was no going back. No going forward. He had lost her.

"Agent Booth! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Booth blinked, realizing that he was still punching the bag, the blood now running freely down his knuckles, his whole body shaking.

He turned. There was no blood on the wall where he had just been leaning. He sighed in relief. The encounter with Brennan had been a figment of his enraged mind.

She hasn't gone. I haven't lost her.

Looking straight into the cold eyes of Deputy Director Michael Evans wasn't exactly pleasant.

After Amy had died years ago, Cullen had taken a prolonged leave of absence. He had never come back. Booth understood not wanting to work after his daughter had just died. It was like Brennan had said; he needed "time."

Booth glared back at his superior. Personally he loathed the man. While Cullen had been a hard ass, he had treated Booth and his contemporaries with respect, treating them more as equals, and exerting power when he deemed it necessary.

Evans was just an ass. He treated the agents as though they were far lower then himself, and more so he had treated Brennan like crap the few times he had met her, not meeting her eyes or addressing her properly. Brennan had fumed at this and he had literally had to drag her away.

Booth hadn't shown it, but he wanted to sucker punch the man hard across the face for the disrespect he had shown his partner who was just as important to solving the cases as Booth was.

If he ever wanted to quit the FBI punching Evans would be the first thing he would do.

His angry dark blue eyes appraised Booth with cold curiosity, as he waited for his response.

"I'd like a response Agent, instead of you just standing there with your mouth open. I'm not a mind reader."

He had no problem glaring back at Evans. "Sir, I was just working out with the bags."

Evans rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as if he didn't believe Booth. "You weren't wearing protective gloves as it obvious that your knuckles are bleeding. You are obviously taking out some emotional frustration you have out on the FBI work equipment and I won't have it in my bureau."

Booth frowned, but he knew it was true. He would rather Evans went back to patrolling the rest of the building and left him alone so he could pummel the bag harder.

"What is that supposed to mean? Sir?" Booth nearly spat out the last word, his frustration boiling over.

Evans easily caught on to the mocking tone that Booth used to address him, and he sneered in satisfaction, as if he was fishing for a reason to throw Booth out.

"Watch your tone Agent Booth. Your attitude this afternoon hasn't been acceptable. I want you to leave the building, and return when you deem yourself ration again."

Booth took a foreboding step towards Evans, and he could see him flinch even though he tried not to show it.

"You're kicking me out?

He smiled in a sickenly sweet way. Part of Booth thought that he had been wandering the halls hoping to catch Booth doing something which he could reprimand him for. He had gotten it.

"Exactly Agent Booth. You know the way out."

Booth glared at him, trying to let his anger get the best of him. "Yes Sir."

Booth brushed past Evan's in a quick movement. He knew if he stood here any longer he would punch him, and be suspended, even immediately pulled out of the FBI. Permanently.

He needed to get out of here. She was everywhere. In his thoughts, in the air. He was breathing her in, and without her there to help him, he felt like he was suffocating.

Brennan lied in her bed, above the sheets, staring vacantly up at the ceiling, willing herself to go to sleep.

The sun had set hours ago. She had wished it had taken the afternoons events with it, but they were still settled over her, like dust collecting. She wished that she hadn't tried to go back to her logic.

It had gone so horribly and completely wrong. And she should have known it would. That's why they worked. They were complete and total opposites. They clashed all the time. If Booth thought the suspect was guilty, Brennan argued he was innocent. If Booth said he liked Vanilla ice-cream, Brennan like Chocolate. Booth thought with instinct. Brennan thought with logic.

So logically, the shouldn't have even worked in the first place. But they did. They built off each other. She loved watching Booth when he was really in the zone. She loved watching him interrogate a suspect, because she knew she would never be able to do that, get so far into someone's head. She loved that about Booth.

For the first time, she had been going with her instinct, and then fear had set in. She hadn't known what to do except the logical answer. Push him away.

It seemed like the stupidest thing now. And obviously Booth had been hurt by her "space", he wouldn't have yelled at her like that if he wasn't. She didn't blame him. Her terror had crept up on her without any warning at all, and for once she hadn't been able to push it back down again. It had filled her.

She sighed, shutting her eyes, and moving on the bed, wishing it wasn't so god damned hot. April's weren't supposed to be this hot. She wished it was raining again.

Turning, she looked at the clock. 1:34 am. How had it gotten so late? How long had she been lying on her bed? She thought it had only been a half an hour, but obviously it had been so much longer. She had been consumed by her thoughts.

Just as she was about to get up and drag herself to her bathroom to take a couple of sleeping pills that would clear her mind and guarantee knock her out, she heard a small whimpering from outside her door.

She frowned. She had put Chloe and Sam to bed hours ago, but they didn't have any pets, so unless the neighborhood burglar's new strategy was to whimper, she had to logically believe it was either Chloe or Sam.

The door creaked open slowly, and her eyes which had adjusted to the darkness hours ago, could make out the small silhouette of Chloe clutching the stuffed hippo Angela had given her for her 1st birthday. Chloe never slept without it.

She could hear Chloe's whimpers muffled by the hippo that was pressed against her face, and Brennan could easily see the little girl was upset about something.

She took a few tentative steps towards the bed. "Mommy?"

Sitting up, Brennan eyed the little girl curiously. She didn't know what was wrong.

"Chlo, babe are you ok?"

With the comforting recognition that her mom was awake Chloe ran to her mom, catapulting her self onto the bed and into Brennan's arms, and Brennan could see that she was in hysterics.

Brennan wrapped her arms around Chloe, hugging her protectively as Chloe mumbled quickly and in jumbled syllables to Brennan's shirt.

"Mommy, I had a weally bad nightmawe. I was in ouw house and then the snakes gotted you and you died, and so did Sammy and Boof and it was so scawy mommy! I don't want you to die."

She stroked Chloe's hair, rocking her softly in her lap, trying to calm her down.

"Shhh…its ok Chlo. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. Shhh…everything's ok I promise."

"Ok…"

"Is Sammy ok?"

Chloe nodded sleepily, and as Brennan held her she could feel the little girl falling asleep in her arms, her breathing returning to normal as she calmed down.

Brennan tucked Chloe under her covers, and let her sleep, knowing it always felt safer when you were with you parents. For Brennan if always had.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands, sighing. She knew the right thing to do. Brennan had never backed down from a fight before, but she had never had this much to risk.

Reaching out for the phone by her bedside, she tip toed out her room, and climbed through the window of the fire escape where she and Booth had sat last night. She leaned over the railing, letting the hot breeze blow her hair against her neck. The city look just as peaceful, but she knew there was one person waiting for her. She didn't want to wait anymore.

Without even looking she dialed the numbers, and put the phone to her ear, waiting for him to pick up.

"Hello?" He sounded half-asleep, and she remembered that it was already almost 2 am, so he had the right to be asleep.

She took a deep breath before continuing. "It's me," There was a pause as he comprehended, and she thought that she heard him hold his breath for a second before letting it out.

"I made up my mind."

Did she choice him...or not? hmmm...press the button please :)