Well, this update is a mishmash of everything, really, but hopefully I retained some level of coherency amidst the chaos! Chapter 7 was probably my personal best in terms of what I've written so far, so I really hope this doesn't seem comparatively…well… crap, for want of a more eloquent term.

I'm lagging behind on my review replies again, because I'm still overawed – and delighted - by the volume of feedback I've been getting. Please keep sending your comments my way, though, and I promise I'll address them ASAP!

I've been getting quite a lot of anonymous reviews for this story, too, and I just wanted to take a moment to say how much I appreciate each and every one of them. I'm sorry I can't reply to you all on an individual basis :-(

On their way back to the clearing where the obstacle course was based, Brennan studied her partner's physiology with an introspective expression. "Are you going to let me fix your back this time, Booth?"

"I let you fix it last time, didn't I?" Booth countered, quirking his eyebrows pointedly.

"After a great deal of evasive remonstrating, yes."

Booth smiled at his partner beguilingly. "Well there you go, then. If my back was bothering me, I'd let you fix it, Bones, but there's nothing wrong with me, OK?"

Maybe he was protesting a little too much, but Booth had barely recovered from the hug he'd just shared with his partner. A certain component of his anatomy was still a tad overexcited by their increased levels of intimacy, and he wasn't about to put himself in a position where Bones was pressing herself against him and forcing him to gyrate in her arms. If those warm, delicate hands settled anywhere near his pulse point, she'd know that his heart was humming because of her proximity.

Brennan rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Lying to me is a futile exercise when I can plainly discern that your gait is laboured, Booth."

"OK, so I'm limping a little," he conceded, his expression defiant. "Maybe it's a groin strain. Do you know how to fix that, too?"

Brennan's eyes widened slightly. "Are you being suggestive, Booth?"

"What? No!" Booth inwardly groaned at his ill-conceived remark, his panicked expression rapidly becoming flustered. "Sarcasm, Bones. It was sarcasm, OK?"

Brennan remained largely oblivious to her partner's discomfiture, and decided to appeal to his competitive streak instead. "Don't you want to be in optimum condition for the upcoming tasks? They seem to be of a predominantly physical nature."

"Look, I just did a pretty good imitation of Superman to save your sorry ass," Booth reminded her good-naturedly. "Maybe if you hadn't been blindfolded at the time, you would've been able to appreciate that I'm in prime physical condition."

"Actually, I imagine the incident on the obstacle course probably exacerbated the existing problem. Did you know that chronic lumbago accounts for more sick leave than any other medical complaint?" Brennan remarked in a conversational tone.

Booth snorted disdainfully. "What, is 'Mr Vincent Nigel-Murray' back in the lab spouting random facts again or something?"

"It's not a random fact, Booth, it obviously pertains to our current topic of conversation."

"Well, how about we change the subject?"

"I can understand why you're being defensive," Brennan assured him in a superior tone. "Obviously, in your line of work, any form of physical degeneration would be seen as a weakness."

"Bones, you're making it sound like I'm a geriatric in desperate need of a walker or something," Booth protested in amused exasperation. "When I look like Bob, then you can start to worry."

"I'm not worried, Booth, because I know the problem can be easily rectified. If you'd just let me – "

"Bones, I'm not going to let you crush my spine again. The noise my back was making when you were…" he cleared his throat, "well… you know. It just wasn't natural, OK?"

"If my recollections are accurate, you said it was 'amazing' at the time," Brennan reminded him, somewhat smugly.

"Yeah… well… it could've been a fluke," Booth retorted, wincing at his admittedly pathetic response. He wasn't about to tell Bones that the heady sensation of her breasts pressing against his back had been more effective at blocking out his pain than any analgesic on the market.

"Booth, yesterday you implied that if any complications arose as a result of our endeavours, you would allow me to correct them."

"Yeah, but - "

"You're obviously suffering with vertebral subluxation," Brennan interjected matter-of-factly. "All I intend to do is use traditional chiropractic methods of spinal manipulation to correct the misalignment."

"Just because you know all the fancy lingo, doesn't mean to say you're a qualified practitioner, Bones."

"Booth, I would never endanger your well-being on a whim," Brennan protested, her eyes clouding with hurt. "I know what I'm doing."

"I know," he assured her warily. "It's just a little… brutal, OK? I mean, call me a traditionalist, but I'm the kind of guy who prefers a nice, relaxing massage."

"Well, I…" Brennan hesitated, her cheeks colouring slightly, "Wouldn't that be a little… intimate?"

"No! I wasn't saying that I wanted you to give me one…" Booth's eyes widened when he processed his phraseology. "Oh God… just… never mind."

For one blissful moment, Brennan lapsed into silence, but then she turned to regard her partner with an earnest expression. "I imagine that intercourse must be quite onerous for you, Booth."

"What the hell? No!" Booth exclaimed angrily. "Where did that even come from?"

Brennan flushed slightly. "Well, it seems viable to conclude that, owing to the nature of your back pain, vigorous pelvic activity would be difficult to maintain over an extended period of time… which obviously has implications for your overall… performance."

"Bones, you are way out of line," Booth informed her emphatically. "There is nothing - absolutely nothing - wrong with my performance, OK?"

"So you didn't experience any pain the last time you engaged in coitus, Booth?"

Booth looked as though he was on the verge of spontaneous combustion. "That is none of your goddamn business!"

"I don't know why you insist on being so enigmatic about your love life," Brennan countered defensively, heaving an aggrieved sigh. "You always seem to take an active interest in mine."

"There's nothing to tell, OK, Bones? Now, can we just drop it?"

"But in Sweets office, you said – "

"Bones, I'm not having this conversation with you," Booth said flatly. "End of discussion."

"But it's just that I haven't seen you with anyone since Cam…"

Booth whirled around to face her, his eyes blazing. "That's because there hasn't BEEN anyone since Cam, OK?" he declared fiercely. "Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Brennan shook her head, regarding him with a bewildered expression. "I don't understand… do you mean that there hasn't been anyone significant, or…"

"I don't do one-night stands, you should know that by now, Bones," Booth informed her quietly.

Brennan was trying desperately hard to process the startling information her partner had just revealed. "But you're a virile male, Booth, and a very… striking… one, too," she observed, studying him attentively. "I know you can't be short of offers. Are you suffering from some form of… sexual dysfunction?" she ventured tentatively, "Is that why you didn't sleep with Detective Pritchard when we were in London?"

Booth regarded her in indignant disbelief, shaking his head. "So, just because I'm not 'satisfying my biological urges' with any candidate who happens to be willing, you think I'm dysfunctional?" he demanded, and his penetrating gaze was searing in its intensity.

"I just… I don't understand, Booth," Brennan whispered weakly, desperately searching his pained features for an explanation.

"No," Booth declared, his tone laced with bitterness as he turned away from her. "I wouldn't expect you to."

"Booth!" Brennan seized his forearm as he began to walk in the opposite direction, her heart constricting when she realised she had inadvertently destroyed the easy camaraderie between them. "Please…"

"You just can't let it go, can you?" he hissed, regarding Brennan with something akin to resentment. "You always have to push things."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her tone laced with desperation.

"Yeah, well I'm sorry, too, Bones," Booth informed her sadly. "I'm sorry that I can't settle for a substitute without wishing that she was… someone else, OK? Because God knows, my life would be a hell of a lot less complicated if I could," he muttered, his expression hollow.

"So you're saying that your sexual attraction towards other women has degenerated as a result of… unrequited love?" Brennan ventured nervously, her voice sounding meek, rather than dubious.

Booth sought out her gaze then, and the depth of emotion shining in his eyes promptly stole her breath away. "Unrequited?" he echoed, shaking his head despairingly. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me, Temperance?"

"I…" Brennan noticeably floundered. She wanted to evade his concentrated gaze, but she couldn't wrench her eyes away from her partner's expectant countenance. "I don't… I don't know what that means."

For one terrifying moment, a fire stirred in the pits of Booth's tempestuous eyes, and Brennan thought he was going to call her bluff. He opened his mouth to say something, but then promptly closed it again, his jaw clenching tightly as he nodded resignedly.

"We should get back to the others," he asserted abruptly, promptly turning on his heel and striding along the trail at such a furious pace, even Brennan couldn't hope to keep up with him.

"Ow! For fuck's sake, be careful, would you?" Alex hissed, instinctively withdrawing her throbbing legs from Jenny's gentle grasp. She winced as the antiseptic solution soaked into her grazed knees, causing the raw abrasions to sting violently, and shot a deathly glare in her partner's direction.

"Yeah, it hurts, doesn't it, Johnson?" Bob countered, holding up his bandaged wrists for her appraisal. "That's the thing with you young hotshots, you can dish it out, but you can't take it."

"So you're saying you did this on purpose?" Alex demanded, gingerly rising from the tree stump she was sitting on and stalking towards her partner with ominous intent.

Trying not to laugh at her murderous expression and the fact that Bob was making a hasty retreat into the undergrowth, Simon stopped her progress by thrusting a towel into her arms. "Dry yourself off, Johnson, or else you're gonna wind up getting sick. I'm sure the others would be devastated if you weren't around to provide them with some comic relief."

"You know what, Simon? Fuck you," Alex retorted, her tone shaking with a mixture of anger and genuine distress.

Simon sent a suggestive wink in her direction. "In your dreams, sweetheart," he countered, his expression becoming noticeably alarmed when he saw the tears welling in Alex's cobalt blue eyes. "Come on, Johnson, keep your chin up," he cajoled, his tone considerably kinder as he placed his hands on Alex's shoulders, easing her back into a sitting position. He rolled the cuffs of her sodden sweatpants up, pulling a tube of arnica cream out of his pocket and handing it to her. "Rub some of that onto your knees, it'll help with the bruising."

Alex sent a tremulous smile in his direction, wrapping her bedraggled blonde hair in the towel he'd provided. "My hands still hurt," she informed him meekly, raising her palms for his inspection. "Can't you do it?"

"Subtlety's really not your strong point, is it?" Simon informed her wryly. "I'll let Jenny finish doing the honours, OK?"

"You know, Simon, I really wouldn't have a problem if you wanted to play Doctor instead."

Alex sent an unrepentant grin in his direction, and the Guide rolled his eyes, inwardly acknowledging the irony of Alex's girl-next-door demeanour.

Her demise had been somewhat spectacular – she had fearlessly managed to stumble and fumble her way around the course, paying limited heed to Bob's half-hearted guidance, and Ross had confessed to being in awe of her spatial awareness. However, the dugout had ultimately been her downfall. Her legs had been soaked through after her encounter with the erratically spaced stepping-stones, and Bob's instructions to dismount from the rope swing had been markedly premature. Alex had crashed onto the innermost edge of the concrete, her knees bearing the brunt of the impact, and then she'd lowered her hands in a bid to break her fall. Hearing Bob spluttering in an attempt to contain his laughter, she'd hastily scrambled to her feet, not realising how perilously close she was to the water's edge.

Bob stopped trying to suppress his mirth when Alex plunged into the depths of the trench, and by the time Jenny and Ross hauled her back onto dry land, the makeup she had plastered on that morning was completely dissolved, save for the streaks of mascara peppering her ashen cheeks. A shivering Alex had refused to tackle any more of the obstacles, concluding the task by offering another insight into her highly honed sense of spatial awareness… namely via driving her hands into Bob's chest and propelling him onto his ass while still blindfolded.

Simon had to concede that, without the mask of come-hither makeup, Alex was an attractive woman. Her unblemished complexion and halo of blonde hair gave her a disturbingly angelic appearance, but as the Agent continued to level an alluring smile in his direction, he shook his head forcefully. "I don't think you'd like my bedside manner, Johnson."

Alex frowned, heaving an aggrieved sigh. "Fine. Whatever." She began furiously rubbing the arnica into her wounds, now apparently oblivious to her pain threshold. "If I get pneumonia, you do realise that the Bureau will be suing your sorry ass, right?"

"Which is why we've got several pairs of these to hand." Simon requisitioned a pair of company-issue sweats from his backpack, throwing them unceremoniously in the Agent's direction. "Go and find a tree to hide behind and then you can get changed."

Alex regarded the insulated drawstring pants and shapeless fleece-lined sweatshirt distastefully. "These are like… three sizes too big."

"Well, it's one size fits all, I'm afraid, so you're just gonna have to grin and bear it."

"But the colour's hideous," Alex whined, surveying the drab grey material with a plaintive expression.

"Yeah, the faux-leather and leopard print winter-wear was out of stock last time I placed my order," Simon deadpanned, trying not to laugh when Alex shot him a dirty look. "You'll be pleased to know that there's a wider selection when it comes to band aids, though, Agent Johnson," he informed her sardonically. "They come in all shapes and sizes. We have them in flesh pink…" he tossed her a skin-coloured band-aid, "Or electric blue. Take your pick."

"I think you missed your calling," Alex noted sarcastically. "You could've made a killing in retail."

"You know, you'd be a hell of a lot more tolerable if you quit bitching and let some of that personality shine through," Simon countered good-naturedly, taking the arnica out of her hand and tapping her gently on the thigh with the small tube, "Because I know there's got to be more to you than this whole Cruella de Vil routine."

"Look, Simon, don't try and turn me into your pet project, because I'm not interested, OK?" Alex retorted caustically, promptly abandoning any attempts at flirtation as she stalked into the foliage to change into her sweats.

"Well, you could've fooled me," he shouted after her, shaking his head in a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Five days wasn't going to be nearly long enough to figure that one out.

An hour later, everyone had reassembled in the clearing. Booth wouldn't have thought it possible, but the group actually looked even more miserable than when they'd first set out this morning - only this time, he was including himself in that equation.

Sergio, like Alex, was wearing a set of company-issue sweats and standing with his legs akimbo after falling foul of the balancing beam. He'd been quick to inform Simon that any reduction in his sperm count would result in a lawsuit. Mark was dry, but his left wrist was encased in a support bandage after he'd lost his grip on the cargo net and twisted it trying to re-establish his hold. Under Otis' meticulous leadership, Teresa had emerged relatively unscathed; save for the friction burn she'd contracted after loosening her grasp on the rope and then rapidly changing her mind. Her partner had eventually persuaded her to let go, and she'd managed to avoid falling into the abyss, her longs legs scrambling to find solid ground.

Simon moved to stand in front of the group, regarding them all with barely-concealed amusement. "Right, you wretched lot, after Jenny's finished tallying your scores, we're gonna grab some lunch and hopefully the hot food will help to warm you up again," he announced, levelling an affable smile in their direction. "I'm pleased to see that you're all still in one piece - give or take a limb or two - and I've got to say, I'm glad that everyone decided to give this task a go."

"I think we can safely say that the feeling isn't mutual, buddy," Mark informed him wryly.

Simon started to laugh. "Whatever gave you that impression, Agent Simmons?" he countered sarcastically, casting an appraising eye over the disconsolate group. "The important thing is that we're getting there, people… one small step at a time. I hope you've all come to realise that placing a little faith in your partner doesn't automatically equate to a death wish."

"You're kidding, right?" Alex demanded, her eyes thinning as they fixed upon an unrepentant Bob, who had strategically positioned himself as far away from her as possible.

"Well, there's always an exception to prove the rule, Agent Johnson, and God knows, you're contrary enough for everyone." Simon gazed at Alex intently until she ducked her head, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Oh for God's sake, Johnson, put a smile on your face, or else I'm going to force you and Agent Norris to initiate a group hug, OK?"

Alex's head snapped up, and she glared at the Guide until his amused expression caused her lips to quirk slightly at the corners.

"You're not funny," she muttered, folding her arms defiantly as a small smile graced her features.

"That's probably because you have a stunted sense of humour," Simon retorted, his eyes settling on Jenny as she jogged across the clearing, clutching a piece of paper in her hands. "Jenny!" he announced loudly, levelling a smile in his colleague's direction. "I'll let you do the grand unveiling."

Jenny waved at the group enthusiastically. "Hi again, everyone!" she exclaimed breathlessly, undeterred by their apathetic response. "OK, so I've finished totting up all of your points. Only three teams managed to complete the course in its entirety, and I'm going to read out their scores in ascending order. Agent Rivers and Agent Simmons crossed the finish line in 29 minutes and 16 seconds - which is an excellent time, you guys, so well done," she sent a beaming smile in their direction, and then promptly bit her lip. "Unfortunately, they also suffered a few bumps and scrapes along the way, and we had to deduct a total of five points," she informed them regretfully. "So, if we combine your scores for both tasks, that gives you a grand total of seven points altogether, putting you in third place."

"Well, it's better than forth," Sandra conceded, rolling her eyes in conjunction with her beleaguered partner.

"I'm not sure whether it was worth it, though," Mark pronounced, holding up his injured wrist in the hopes of eliciting some sympathy. Jenny barely blinked in response.

"Agent White and Agent Lewis finished the course in 24 minutes and 31 seconds, which was actually the fastest completion time, so congratulations you guys, you get a bonus point," Jenny announced, attempting to instigate a round of applause. Teresa and Otis glanced at each other wryly, looking less than thrilled.

"You managed to retain seven of your original ten points – and that's including the bonus point - which puts you in second place with a grand total of eleven points."

"Go team," Otis remarked sardonically, waving some imaginary pom-poms and eliciting a snort from Teresa in the process.

Jenny's luminous smile increased in intensity. "Dr Brennan and Agent Booth had another amazing run and only dropped a couple of points along the way. They finished in 25 minutes and 33 seconds, giving them a grand total of thirteen points and putting them at the head of the pack. Let's just hope it isn't a case of unlucky thirteen, right, guys?"

Everyone glanced in Brennan and Booth's direction, surprised to see them standing a couple of feet apart and resolutely avoiding each other's gaze.

"Uh-oh. There's trouble in paradise," Teresa remarked under her breath, quirking her eyebrows pointedly at Alex.

The blonde Agent studied Booth's guarded countenance and rigid physique with avid interest, barely heeding Jenny's assertion that she and Bob were still at the bottom of the leader board after securing a paltry two points. "Well, she's obviously done something to piss him off," she noted wryly, her eyes gleaming with barely-concealed glee.

Simon shook his head despairingly as he appraised his star pupils and the palpable tension flowing between them. "OK, so clearly Dr Brennan and Agent Booth aren't in the mood to celebrate their victory right now," he remarked sarcastically, "But I can guarantee that this afternoon's task is going to cheer you all up." The Guide broke into a fresh bout of laughter as ten pairs of suspicious eyes narrowed warily in his direction. "No, guys, I'm serious. I figured you trigger-happy Feds would find it therapeutic firing off a few rounds, so we're going to play our very own version of Bullseye."

For once, his announcement was greeted with something vaguely resembling enthusiasm, and Brennan sent a surreptitious glance in her partner's direction to gauge his reaction.

"You were right," she whispered, and Booth nodded, sending a half-hearted smile in her direction.

"Yeah," he murmured wearily, "It looks like you're going to get your gun after all, Bones."

Seeing his downcast expression, Brennan's stomach instinctively constricted. "Booth… I…"

"I'm sorry," Alex interposed, rather loudly, "I don't mean to sound like a party pooper or anything, but Teresa, didn't you say that the Bureau had forbidden Dr Brennan from carrying a concealed weapon because of… reckless endangerment or something? I mean, she could be a liability if we're using live rounds, right?"

Simon looked marginally alarmed and glanced in Brennan and Booth's direction, along with the rest of the patently curious group. "Is that true?" he asked, his tone clearly conveying his incredulity.

Brennan opened her mouth to voice her objections, but Booth traversed the space between them to place a quelling hand on her forearm.

"No, it's not true," he ground out, barely concealing his anger. "Bones doesn't carry a weapon because I won't put her in that position; I won't make her a target when that's not what she signed up for. I vowed to protect her," he informed them intently, "But that doesn't mean to say she can't protect herself – or me, for that matter, because she's risked her life to save mine more times than I'd care to count." He regarded Alex defiantly. "How many guys have you taken out to safeguard your partner, Johnson?"

Alex held up her hands in mock surrender. "OK, chill out, Seeley, for God's sake. I was just saying that she's been known to shoot unarmed men before – "

"And rats," Teresa interjected helpfully, her eyes crinkling with barely suppressed laughter.

"And rats," Alex echoed, levelling an amused, but quizzical look in her friend's direction, "So maybe we ought to get some protective gear, you know? Just in case she has another… mishap."

"Agent Johnson, I think it would be advisable for you to shut the hell up," Simon informed her in a non-negotiable tone. "Right now."

"But I just don't think we should be forced to share the firing range with a novice – "

"Johnson, you are really beginning to piss me off," Booth muttered forebodingly, but Brennan stepped forwards, holding out a hand to silence him.

She approached Alex until she was looming over the smaller woman, her aggressive stance belying her own slender frame. "Agent Johnson, I am most definitely not a novice when it comes to handling firearms," she asserted self-assuredly. "Regardless of the FBI's standpoint, I'm licensed to carry my own gun, and I'm willing to hypothesise that my aim is far more proficient than yours."

There were a myriad of catcalls from the rest of the group, and Otis' booming timbre rose above the general din. "You sock it to her, Dr Brennan," he exclaimed, breaking into a wide grin when he saw Booth's long-suffering expression.

Alex eyed Brennan scornfully, her lips curling into a mocking sneer. "Sweetheart, I was the best mark in my year at the Academy and God knows, Bob's had plenty of time to practice his aim. You haven't got a hope in hell," she informed her flatly.

Although Brennan was struggling to understand why everyone was so entertained by her outburst, her eyes continued to sparkle defiantly. "I beg to differ, Agent Johnson. I think you're vastly underestimating my capabilities."

Alex snorted derisively, sending a smirk in Teresa's direction, and Brennan's eyes noticeably darkened. She wasn't going to overlook the opportunity to defend herself this time.

"And for your information, Agent Johnson, the 'unarmed' man that I shot – and that's man, singular, not plural – was a murderer. He stabbed a young woman – a pregnant young woman – repeatedly, and then reduced her skull to fragments with a sledgehammer. I was the one who deduced his identity, and I knew that, after seeing the warrant we presented to his boss, he would endeavour to destroy all of the incriminating evidence against him. I arrived at his residence to find him pouring copious amounts of gasoline onto the floor where the victim was murdered. He was brandishing a lighter with the intent of destroying everything that would validate our case against him, so I took the necessary steps to safeguard both the evidence and myself, before Agent Booth arrived to secure the scene. Is that a problem?" she demanded, her eyes flashing in an unspoken challenge.

Alex regarded her contemptuously, quirking a defiant eyebrow. "No, it's not. Now, do you want to get out of my face?" she spat out, squaring off against a stoic Brennan, who didn't shift an iota in response.

"Johnson, you'd better back off, because I'm telling you now, she will kick your cocky ass," Booth warned his colleague, watching his partner assert her dominance with a mixture of pride and amusement.

"Seeley, I very much doubt that I'd have a problem taming your little lab rat," Alex countered coolly, her eyes never leaving Brennan's impassive face.

"Why don't you try it, Agent Johnson, and then I'll let you know what I think of your technique," Brennan countered evenly, staring at the blonde woman until Alex finally recoiled from the unrelenting ferocity in her ice-blue eyes.

"OK, ladies, I wasn't planning on adding grappling to the inventory of tasks, so can you pipe down, please?" Simon commanded, shooting an amused look in Booth's direction when Brennan raised her hand to attract his attention. "Yes, Dr Brennan?"

"I would just like to make it clear to Agent White that I only shot the rats because they were compromising the integrity of my remains," Brennan stated vociferously, earning a round of raucous laughter.

Simon rolled his eyes indulgently. "Thank you for conjuring up that image directly before lunch, Dr Brennan," he deadpanned, tilting his head towards Ross, who was getting ready to distribute the limited number of MREs. "Right guys, you can go and grab some lunch now," he announced, and the Agents promptly dispersed to bombard the beleaguered-looking young man.

Brennan returned to her partner's side, immeasurably pleased to find him smiling at her warmly. "What?" she murmured lightly, her eyes clearly conveying her relief as Booth held her gaze without flinching.

"I just haven't seen you do that in a while," he noted, his grin expanding still further.

"Do what, Booth?"

"Get in someone's face like that," he explained wryly. "You've been a lot less… belligerent lately."

"You make it sound like that's a bad thing," she countered, regarding him with a quizzical smile.

"No, not at all. It's just nice to see that 'take-no-prisoners' attitude resurface every now and again, Bones, that's all." Because it's hot as all hell, he inwardly added.

"But earlier, you said that I always… push too hard… that you hate the way I…" she trailed off, her eyes welling with tears as she shook her head almost imperceptibly. "Never mind."

"Hey…" Booth ventured, rapidly closing the distance between them and gently bumping his partner's shoulder. "Hate isn't in my vocabulary when it comes to you, OK, Bones?"

"Well, I hate fighting with you," Brennan informed him earnestly, "Does that count?"

Booth scrubbed his face with his hand and then offered her a laconic smile. "Look, I lost my cool earlier and said some things I shouldn't have. Let's just… forget about it, OK?"

"But I'm sorry that I upset you, Booth."

"I know," he reassured her, clearing his throat and hastily turning away again. "Come on, let's grab some lunch before the others steal our rations."

"Booth…" Brennan captured her partner's wrist in her hands, and swallowed prominently when the halting timbre of her tone caused Booth to stop in his tracks and seek out her piercing gaze. "You do know… I mean, you are aware of the fact that I… that you…"

"Spit it out, Bones," Booth teased, his features noticeably softening as he observed his partner's uncharacteristic diffidence.

"You mean a great deal to me," Brennan blurted out, her cheeks colouring slightly as her heart began to pound ferociously against her ribcage.

A smile began to tug at the corners of Booth's lips as he absorbed this unexpected piece of information. "I do?" he reiterated softly, and an answering beam was quick to blossom on his partner's exquisite features.

"You do," Brennan confirmed earnestly, looping her arm companionably around her partner's waist as they headed towards Ross and the others. "Oh, and Booth?"

"Yeah?" he ventured, feeling his stomach clench as he contemplated the possibility of his partner making another uplifting disclosure.

"I intend to wipe the ground with Agent Johnson in the upcoming task."

Booth snorted, his expression brimming with mirth. "Oh God, I'm so glad you didn't say that to her," he choked out through peals of uproarious laughter.

"What? Why?" Brennan demanded, looking genuinely bewildered.

"It's 'wipe the floor,' Bones, not 'wipe the ground,'" he explained, shaking his head despairingly.

"But they're virtually synonymous!" she exclaimed, her brow visibly furrowing.

"Well, either way, I'm right there with you," Booth assured her, giving her an affectionate squeeze before they were forced to break apart.

The physical bond may have been severed, but their eyes were constantly seeking some form of connection, and Simon watched their interplay with a shrewd smile. He'd been doing this job for eight years now, but he'd never stumbled across two people who had such an innate harmony in their differences before; two people who could single-handedly re-write the literature he'd accumulated on the subject of building a successful partnership. They were truly unique - he just hoped he could help them to acknowledge that fact before the course was over.