Disclaimer -I don't own Bones,Fox, or any of their affiliates. Sadly, I don't own David Boreanaz, either.

*Notes – First of all, thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed this story, put it on their alerts, or favorited it. I've never, ever had this type of reaction from one of my stories before, and it was completely awe-inspiring. Also, I'm replying to all of the reviews for chapter one via PM; if you haven't received one yet, it's because I'm still working my way through them. Again, thank you so much!

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Four days. That was how long it took before Booth showed back up at the lab, a sheepish smile on his lips and a case file in his hands.

She'd asked him if he'd had sufficient time to move on, all the while ignoring the way her sympathetic nervous system kicked in, increasing her heart rate, doubling her pulse.

He'd replied by telling her that moping wasn't going to change the facts, and working with her would help move on more then avoidance could. It wasn't his answer, but the soft smile he gave her, the one that caused his eyes to crinkle and his face to soften, that made Brennan's body tingle in a way definitely not associated with damage to the spinal cord.

She'd always told herself that her reaction to Booth was a mixture of hormones, pheromones, and his pleasing bone structure. Purely chemical, nothing emotional. He was her partner, the FBI agent that gave her guy hugs and loved her in an 'atta girl kind of way'. He was her friend, her co-worker, her male version of Angela.

Except Angela had never given her Brainy Smurf, or Jasper, or a speech on making love so romantic that logic fell to the wayside. Angela never looked at her the way Booth did, with a single minded intensity that was nearly overwhelming in its passion. Angela was her friend, but Booth- Booth was more then a friend.

Stop. Brennan forced herself to focus on the skull she was examining, not her conflicted feelings. Booth had been back for a week now, and she had to stop thinking of him romantically, and-

"Bones, we've got a lead!" Booth appeared as if summoned by her thoughts- Brenan refused to ponder on how ludicrous the thought was- waving around a case file.

He ran up the steps to join her on the platform, not noticing as Hodgins raced by. Hodgins swiped his card through the scanner, preventing the alarm from going off, before meandering back towards the microscope he'd been at moments before.

"A lead on Jane Doe 467?" Brennan asked, glancing up briefly at Booth, who'd stopped by the edge of the table. His hands were tucked deep into his pockets, and he was rolling on the balls of his feet, as if wanting to move, yet unable to. Brennan felt her shoulders sag the slightest bit in disappointment.

Since their confrontation at her apartment, Booth had been keeping his distance. Brennan supposed it was to be expected, but she hadn't realized how often Booth touched her, whether it be a guiding hand on the small of her back or a gentle nudge to her shoulder.

She hadn't noticed the consistency of Booth's presence until it was gone.

"… Bones?" Brennan looked up to see Booth looking at her, the first hints of concern dwelling in his eyes.

"Yes?" she asked, placing the skull carefully on the table before leaning over, examining the femur.

"Did you even hear a word I said?" Booth stepped forwards, a hand hovering over her back for the briefest moment, contact so close but not quite. Brennan straightened, and Booth's hand fell away, only to be stuffed back into his pocket.

"I thought I saw a possible fracture of the skull, but I was incorrect." Brennan turned away from Booth to snap her gloves off, tossing them in a nearby waste bin. "What were you saying?"

"We ran Angela's facial reconstruction through the missing person's database, and we found a match. Her name was Kelsey McKinney; she was twenty three." Booth handed her the case file, and Brennan opened it to see a picture of a young, African American woman staring back at her, a bright smile on her face.

"Jane Doe's bone structure matches the picture," Brennan stated. "Kelsey McKinney it is. Angela's did an exemplary job, as per usual. Speaking of which, why didn't she deliver this information to me?"

Booth ducked his head, and the lightest of flushes spread up his neck and into his cheeks. "She demanded that I come up here to tell you," he answered. "She claimed she was too busy to do it herself."

"I don't understand… Angela's never that busy. Unless this was her attempt to have us reconcile our differences?" Booth flinched at the words, and Brennan abruptly realized that they may have not been the most appropriate. "I'm sorry, was that unsuitable to say?"

"It's fine, Bones," Booth muttered, eyes downcast, arms moving to cross over his body.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, taking the slightest of steps towards him. "I know this is hard for you, and I don't want…" The word seemed to dry up in Brennan's mouth; physically, she knew the prospect was impossible, but it seemed an adequate metaphor for her sudden inability to speak.

"Don't want what?" A pause, and then Booth shifted towards her, his hand gently touching her elbow. The touch burned through her thin lab coat, and she found herself staring at the point of contact; easier that then look into Booth's eyes.

"You don't want what?" Booth repeated, his thumb rubbing small, gentle circles on the blue material. Brennan watched its progress, until her name, nearly whispered, drew her attention towards him.

He was staring at her, the expression on his face identical to the one eleven days ago, when he'd said he was in love with her. The smallest bit of concern reappeared in his eyes, and Brennan realized he was waiting for a response.

She tried; she honestly, truly tried. But the words were stuck, stuck somewhere too deep and damaged to contemplate; the harder she tried to pull them out, the deeper they lodged. The first hints of panic swirled through her, warning her that this was too much and too far and she couldn't take this risk, not with him, not with the one person she relied on, needed, more than anyone.

The moment dragged on, then slipped away, a whisper in the wind. "It's not important," Brennan choked out, unsuccessfully ignoring a low pang of hurt when Booth drew away, releasing her arm.

His eyes met hers. She forced herself to hold eye contact before glancing away, hating herself for the resignation written across his face; obvious, even to someone as clueless as her. The sight shook something loose in her, and Brennan turned back to the skeleton on the table before her impulsivity could reign over logic.

"Has the next of kin been notified?" Brennan was thankful that her voice didn't shake, although the question may have been sharper then intended.

There was a pause, then Booth replied. "Her mother, Alicia McKinney, was informed half an hour ago. She was out of town, but she'll be here within the next," he glanced at his watch, "two hours."

"Want to grab lunch while we wait?" Brennan asked. Booth looked at her immediately in surprise, and Brennan knew why. Booth always joked about how he considered himself lucky if he managed to drag her to a deli while she was working a case; she never offered to leave the lab for lunch.

"Please?" she added, hoping he would catch the meaning behind her words. She wasn't asking him to lunch; she was asking him to forgive her, forgive her for hurting him again, for not being able to be what he needed.

One look in his eyes, and she knew she was forgiven, even as his answer stung her. "I would, but I have plans for lunch." There was warmth in his face, but Booth's smile looked faked, forced.

"Does Rebecca need you to look after Parker?" There was an expression about fire, Brennan remembered hearing. Playing around it, perhaps? According to Angela, it was an apt way to describe what she was doing- asking questions she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to.

"No, it's not Parker." With that, and a weak, parting smile, Booth turned to leave.

"Then what are you doing?" Booth turned back, and Brennan cursed the words even as they slipped out. "We're partners, Booth- you don't have to avoid the question."

Without warning, something dark, something angry, flitted across Booth's face. He stepped forwards, pressing into her personal space.

"What do you want me to say, Bones? The truth? Fine. I'm going on a date, and you know that damn well. What I don't understand is why you keep pushing me for an answer you know I don't want to give. You don't want me, or us; fine, I can accept that. Just… don't make it harder for me then this already is. Okay?"

Just as quickly as it appeared, the anger was gone, leaving only a hopelessness that stunned Brennan to witness. Booth turned and left, but this time, Brennan found she had no words to call him back.

Her eyes were stinging, but she blinked back the tears fiercely. She was not going to cry over him, not again. Kelsey McKinney was still without a cause of death, and dammit, Brennan was going to do all she could to rectify that.

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"Her name's Anna." Brennan looked up from her paperwork to see Booth standing in the doorway to her office, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes were swirling with emotion, something unidentifiable hidden within the depths.

"Booth, you don't have to tell me this," Brennan replied hastily.

"Yes, I do. You asked." He took a step forwards, one hand dropping into his pocket; Brennan instinctively knew he was holding the poker chip he carried with him. "I met her last week, at the café down the street from the diner. She asked me to coffee, I said yes."

"Booth, this isn't necessary," Brennan managed, tightening her grip on her pen. She tried to answer the next question on her report, but found that her hand was trembling too hard to do so.

"She asked me to coffee," Booth repeated, taking another step forwards. "It wasn't a date, not officially, but it felt like one. She's religious; she believes in marriage, wants to start a family of her own." Another step. "She's exactly the kind of person I should want to be with."

"Should?" Brennan asked, her voice pitching upwards on the word.

"Yes, should." Booth's voice lowered in contrast, and Brennan realized that he was scant feet away from her. Only her wooden desk separated them. She leaned back in her chair, giving up all pretence of working, devoting her full attention to him.

"She's perfect for me, Bones, but I don't want her. This dance you and me have been doing around each other- it has to end. I know we've discussed this, debated it, realized that we can't be together, but…. when I'm with her… when I'm with anyone but you, I feel like…" a slow, deep breath, "I feel like I'm cheating on you."

"Booth, you have no obligation to me." Ever calm, ever rational, even as warring emotions made breathing nearly painful. Booth's eyes flicked up towards hers, and she realized that the darkness in them was pain, pain mixed with something deep and powerful, intertwined to the point that they couldn't be separated.

Booth laughed cynically, a noise Brennan never wanted to hear again. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Either way, that doesn't change how I feel, does it?" Booth asked. "I told myself that hey, maybe coming back to work with you was the best thing for me. I thought that if I faced this thing head on, I could deal with it, before it wrecks one of the best friendships I've ever had." A smile turned up the corner of Booth's lips for the briefest second, but disappeared quickly.

"I was wrong." Three words, three syllables, an infinite amount of consequences. "I can't deal, not when I'm around you like this. I told you four days alone was enough, but it's not." Another deep breath. "Rebecca's going out of town next week, and I have custody of Parker. I'm going to be taking a two week leave, take him camping… do things a father should." Brennan absently how Booth's expression immediately softened the moment he brought up Parker.

Brennan knew it was her turn to say something. She knew, but she couldn't respond. Her calmness, her rationality, her compartmentalization abilities… they were all abandoning her, leaving her when she needed them the most.

All she was left with was the feeling that something worth fighting for was slipping through her fingers, all without a struggle.

"We're leaving tomorrow," he finished, shoulders hunched, all of the fight drained out of him. "I'll have the FBI assign you a temporary partner while I'm gone. Bones… kust let me go for now. I'll be back, and we can go back to how it used to be. I promise." A weak smile, and then Booth was gone without a sound, mimics of the sniper he used to be.

Feeling suspiciously like they'd echoed their conversation from her apartment, Brennan leaned forwards in her chair, elbows resting on her desk. She absently caught one of her earrings between her fingers, tugging on it lightly as she asked herself the kind of question she hated. A question with no right or wrong answer, just consequences that could be felt for months to come.

Is the chance of this going wrong, worth the chance of it going right?

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She knocked on his door before glancing down at her phone. 11:25PM, the glowing numbers informed her. She vaguely remembered how, in high school, all the girls would talk about how they had butterflies in their stomachs on their first dates, their first kisses. Brennan finally understood the metaphor; it was an apt description for the way her stomach seemed to be twisting, as if winged insects were truly residing within her.

The door parted, then swung open when Booth realized who it was. He beckoned her in, even as disappointment laced his actions. Brennan took three steps inside, breathing slowly, gathering her courage.

Booth didn't seem to notice her internal dilemma as he sighed heavily. "Bones, I told you I can't do this anymore." He seemed to visibly deflate before her eyes. "We can't stay at this stalemate. Even when we talk things out, nothing changes. I can't… I can't do this anymore, okay? It's just-"

"I don't know if I believe in love," she blurted, shocking Booth into silence. "I don't know if it exists in the spiritual way you believe in, a way outside of hormones. But if it does… then that's what I feel towards you." The words felt awkward and clunky, not the romantic declaration she'd wanted to give him.

Booth didn't seem to care how scientific her answer was. He stepped closer, and Brennan realized his eyes were glistening, a sheen of moisture only intensifying the brown irises.

"I'm a scientist," she said, echoing the words of their conversation, weeks ago. "You're a gambler, a man of religion. Hypothetically, if you wanted me to change, then I should want you to change, right?" She looked up, only to see Booth staring wordlessly at her. Waiting.

She swallowed hard, continued. "I don't want you to change, despite the justification I would have in wanting you to do so. If my reasoning applies in reverse, then… then it makes sense that you truly mean that you don't want me to change. It's, it's not you that I didn't trust- it was me."

Brennan looked up to find Booth a foot away, more serious then she'd ever seen him. "Are you sure, Bones?" He reached a hand out, tentatively, resting it on her shoulder. "I need you to be sure. If you commit to this now, you can't back out if things get scary. Promise me, Temperance. You have to promise me."

In a move that surprised even herself, Brennan covered his hand with her own, contrasting light on dark, small over large.

"I'm sure," she whispered, her eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes, back down to his lips. A noise echoed between them, a breathless, joyous laugh, and Brennan didn't know from whom it came.

The press of his lips against hers wasn't sizzling, or knee-weakening, or any of the other terms Angela's romantic literatures would use. It was soft, tender… right.

She pulled back, slow, her lips clinging to his until the last possible second. She kept her eyes closed, feeling more raw, more open, then she could ever remember being.

The thought sent a tendril of panic through her, and she felt herself tense, ready to make excuses, hide, leave. Booth seemed to sense it, because he lifted a hand to her face, ghosting a thumb across her lips, the roughened pad stimulating her nerve cells.

"Bones, look at me." There wasn't a command in Booth's voice, but a question, and Brennan found herself helpless to say no. Her gaze met his, and she found herself surprised at the emotion she saw in his gaze, echoing her own.

I'm not alone in this. Somehow, that knowledge made everything seem easier, made the idea of a being in a relationship not as big and scary.

A sudden grin broke out across Booth's face, an expression Angela would call heart stopping. Without warning, he scooped her into his arms and spun her around once, holding her almost painfully tight.

She swatted at his arm in annoyance, even as a laugh bubbled out of her. He set her down, the joy on his face untainted as he leaned down to kiss her again, a kiss Brennan could righteously describe as sizzling and knee-weakening.

Booth pulled back, only after they were both breathless and panting, the look on his face one she's only seen a handful of times before. It was the same look he gave Parker, one of complete devotion and utter love. It should of scared her, but at that moment, she didn't feel fear.

No, all Dr. Temperance Brennan felt was an echo of that same emotion, rising from somewhere within her, slowly making its way to the surface. Accompanying it was one word, a word that summed up all she'd ever wanted, everything that Booth was turning out to be to her.

Home.

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