A.N.: The shortest of my chapters because it's part ONE of this story's finale. And I wanted to give it to you RIGHT NOW. Because you got me over 400 reviews!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 16
- Part 1 -
The Confession

Brennan played with her keychain, wondering why he had to smell so good past 11 at night.

"You were looking for me?" he repeated, a little surprised.

"I went to see you, but Cam said you were out." Good thing, too. I had no idea what to say to you. I still don't. Please talk first.

Booth looked at Brennan who seemed to have a whole lot of interest for her keys at the moment. He wanted to make sure there was no misinterpretation.

"Michelle couldn't babysit and Cam offered, so..."

"Yeah, she mentioned she was watching Parker."

"Uhm..." Booth felt like a fool. It was late. The streetlight next to them wasn't working and it was getting cold. "You wanted to talk to me?" No, you idiot. She went by your place to see Cam.

"Yes."

Could you elaborate, please?

"I... Angela's mad at me. She says she won't talk to me."

Booth quickly stopped her.

"You know how I feel about catfights."

"There were no cats," Brennan frowned.

"I won't get in the middle of two women fighting." Except if I'm drunk and there's mud involved. He never thought he would see the day where Hodgins' voice would seep through his brain.

"You already are in the middle," she let out, walking away. She reached the front door and opened it.

"What do you mean?" he asked, following her.

"The argument was about you. Well, about me. Or us."

"They can't stop meddling, can they?" he mumbled.

"But she got me thinking."

Was thinking good or bad?

He said nothing. She motioned for him to come in. They reached her apartment in silence and she turned on the lights before closing the door behind them.

"You can sit down," she said, pointing to the couch and dropping her keys on the small table by the entrance.

He sat on the armrest, and she stood in front of him. Far enough.

Brennan licked her lips. Her throat was as dry as it could be. Her hands started to shake, but she hid them in her jeans pocket. Her fingers touched the list.

"I went to your place," she said. She didn't have a speech. She didn't know what she would say. She just felt like she had to.

"You already said that," he said with a smile. She was nervous about something. He got nervous, too.

"I wanted to warn you."

She grabbed the piece of paper in her pocket with the tip of her fingers and pulled it out.

"I'm pretty sure I have all the symptoms," she went on, trying to steady her voice.

"Of swine flu?" he asked, half-joking, half-worried.

She laughed. And thanked him silently for allowing her to let out some nerves.

"No. It's... I made a list."

She unfolded it. Booth was watching her closely. What is she doing?

"You can... Stop me anytime if you hear something irrelevant. Let's just say I'm not an expert on the subject."

"Ok..." he agreed. He just had no idea what she was talking about. But that wasn't a first.

Her eyes scampered over the words. I can't believe you're doing this. This is so stupid. He'll laugh and mock you. No he won't. You can do this.

"I miss you," she read, from the top, changing the handwritten him to a more accurate you.

Then she looked at him. First symptom was out, and he hadn't stopped her. He was still paying attention. She continued, half reading, half pretending to read when the words coming out of her mouth were too much to handle while looking into his eyes.

"I miss what we were not too long ago. And how easy it was." She looked at him again. "I know we can't go back," she stated, to make sure he didn't think she was deluded. "It's just a general... uhm... Ok. Uhm..."

She felt her heart hammering higher and higher in her chest, almost as if it were in her throat. She exhaled and tried to go back to the list. Where was I? Right.

"You scare me," she said, quickly looking back at him to rectify the meaning. "Not in a I'm-scared-of-you kind of way. More like..." Booth was frowning now. She really felt she was digging her grave. "You have a hold on me," she let out. "With one look, you make me nervous or happy or... With the right words, you could make me do anything for you. I don't know when or how, but it's like I gave you control over myself. So that's why I wrote He scares me," she explained, underlining the words with her index finger.

Ok. Moving on.

Booth didn't even dare to breathe. Never in over 4 years had he ever seen her so vulnerable. It tore his heart out. He took in her beauty as she lost herself in her own words. Words she hardly ever used. Feelings. Raw, non-clinical, simple. Yet written down. A soft and barely noticeable smile sneaked onto his lips.

"I love how much I know you," she continued, her voice a little softer, yet still unsteady. "When I know something about you that someone doesn't, it makes me feel special." She went on, translating her handwriting into more understandable terms. "And you know me so well, I don't even know how you..." Her voice died out. She was out of breath. She let out a short pathetic laugh. She could see how ridiculous she was coming across. "I'm sorry. This doesn't make any sense. See?" she said, pointing and showing him a word he couldn't even read. "I'm repeating myself. I'm scared. Again."

Booth stood up slowly. He simply wanted to let her know she could relax. He needed to put his hands on her shoulders to soothe her. But she pushed him back down.

"No, wait. I'm almost done. Let me just..." She took a step back, almost stepping on her purse. "Oops! Ok. Here: When I come home from work, I can smell you on me. And I love it," she read, as fast as she could so he wouldn't interrupt her. She had to let it out. All of it.

Booth couldn't stop his smile from taking over his face. She was adorable.

Brennan saw Booth was starting to laugh. She chuckled, out of tension.

"I have no idea what I'm saying." She folded the list once, twice. Three times. "I don't know anything," she said. "What I know..." She gave him the list. He took it. She wrapped her hands around his wrist for a whole twenty seconds. "... is that I want you in my life." She knew her eyes were shining with tears. A shimmer of nervousness. A gleam of certainty. "More and more every day. I feel like you're a part of me now. And I don't know what to do."

There. All was said.

She took a step back.

"OH! And sometimes, when I see you, I get those butterflies you mentioned. But not all the time. So I don't know if it counts. But I think it does."

She stepped back again, nodding, and almost hit a bookshelf.

"PLUS!" she remembered out loud, raising her index finger. She hadn't had time to add this to the list. "I don't want you to have a serious girlfriend."

There. All was said. For real.

"OR a not-so-serious one either."

Why couldn't she stop the words from coming out, twirling with nonsense?

"So!" she recapped. "If I combine all of that," she said, pointing to the list he was now holding tightly to, "with this very..." She put her hands on her stomach. "... very strong sexual attraction towards you, I'm inclined to say that I... might be in love with you." She locked eyes with him and got in, deeper than she ever did. "If that's what it is," she specified, trying to get out. "I wouldn't know," she concluded, in all honesty, with a shrug.

There. The stupid line had been crossed. Let the sky fall down.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked, lightly, already heading to the kitchen, as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't just done all the work for him. As if the case was finally closed.

But he said, "No." And he grabbed her hand before she could escape. And held it tightly.

Surprised by his low tone, startled to see him so close to her, she looked down at his hand, gently wrapped around hers, and saw he was still holding the list in the other.

"You can throw it out," she told him.

"And destroy all evidence? Not a chance."

His thumb caressed the back of her hand. She watched as she laced her fingers through his, amazed at how easy it was.

"What do we do now?" she asked, almost whispering.

They locked eyes.

"We can forget the whole thing if you want," she suggested, wondering why he wasn't saying anything.

He squinted.

"You can't take back what you said." He waved her list around before putting it in his back pocket. "I heard you. You love me."

The words resonated through her apartment.

"I didn't say that," she pointed out.

"But you do," he assured her. "You love me."

He could have repeated it over and over again.

Booth knew more about this stuff than she did. She trusted him.

"Do I?" she whispered, really asking.

He slowly let go of her hand and loosely wrapped his arms around her hips. He nodded with a cheeky smile.

"Good," she said. She rested her palms on his chest and tilted her chin up to examine his face.

The unbearable tension was still there. Even worse. But absolutely delightful.

As soon as her gaze slipped to his lips, he leaned in.

"Do you want to have sex?" she said out loud.

Booth burst out in laughter.

It wasn't a proposition. It was a simple question. Why was he laughing?

He rested his forehead on hers. Good timing, Bones.

"What?" she laughed, too, unable not to.

He stood taller and tilted his head.

"Let me take you out first."

"A date?"

"That's the proper thing to do," he said.

"Tomorrow?" she almost begged. She didn't want them to wait. Didn't want him to have time to change his mind.

"I'll pick you up here at 7," he agreed, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Good."

He trailed his hands down her arms and took her fingers between his.

She bit her lips before asking, "Are we really doing this?"

His smile told her what she wanted to know. She concluded, "We're finally doing this."

"I should go now," he said, letting go of one hand. Otherwise, that first date will be in bed.

He opened the door before turning back to her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

She nodded. He stepped back and hit the doorframe.

Brennan chuckled as his face flushed.

"Bye."

One last of those new and improved staring game and he was gone.

She leaned on the door and sighed. She realized she was still smiling.

She replayed the whole deal in her head and realized he really hadn't said anything back. Not that it was necessary. But maybe he didn't feel the same way. Maybe tomorrow was a pity date. No. Booth wouldn't do that. If he couldn't refuse a gift from a stalker, how was he supposed to be able to let her, his partner, down? You know the truth. This is real. You can feel it. But she also felt... sick. Her stomach started hurting as she thought about the next day. She had never felt this way before a date. She glimpsed at the clock. Too late to call Angela. Maybe they had both read the symptoms wrong.

Surely heartburn isn't a sign of blissful happiness.

What am I gonna wear?

-------------

TBC

If you find this cheesy, stupid, insane or moronic, I won't bother to make them see each other again. I won't bother with writing that awkward yet sweet first date –maybe first night. Or Angela's reaction. I just won't bother finishing it. So... yeah. Tell me the truth, ok?