Title: Beyond the Fear

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, sorry.

Rating: T

A/N: Hi there, I'm back. Another chapter, and maybe one tomorrow, too. I'm off to bed, early start tomorrow. But if you guys are awake and reading, please review!

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Dr Daniel Goodman had barely paused for breath all afternoon, stopping only for a cup of espresso at noon, he felt tired, and the thought of missing his daughters' bedtime again made his shoulders feel heavier still. The sun was already dipping below the horizon, casting a pale yellow glow across his office floor, slanting towards his desk. Beside him, a pile of reports kept him numbly aware of how much work he still needed to do.

Sighing, he pinched the top of his nose and picked up the telephone. His wife answered in three rings.

"It's alright, Daniel," she said by way of answer, "I know." He felt immediately bad, yet all his planned apologises fell away, for there was no way to remedy the situation. His children had been asking for him all week, and so far, they'd seen him only once.

"I'll be home at ten," he promised, knowing that it would be at least eleven. She hummed, disbelieving him completely. "Love you," Goodman said, and his wife sighed, impatience mixing with her inability to be anything but understanding.

"I love you, too," she said, replacing the handset. Goodman massaged his temples, opening a manila folder of archaeology photographs from China. The images barely held the same appeal as they used too, and the excitement was gone. His marriage was suffering, and he'd become obsessed with his work, rather than going home at night. And now – now he just missed his family.

He heard the knock against his door and prayed someone wasn't bringing him more work complete, another problem to solve. Recently, he'd contended with enough Jeffersonian related issues that he felt he'd aged ten years in just a few short months. He'd been unable to spend time with any one department, shifting between one and another.

"Come in," he called, closing his folder. The door swung open, and Dr Saroyan stepped in, dressed in a black suit, her hair pulled back from her face. He had spoken with her only a few times since he'd appointed her as head of the forensic team. She was firm, perhaps too much so, but he deemed her capable. She never came to him, asking how to handle difficult situations. She had eased the pressure from his shoulders, albeit only slightly.

"Dr Goodman," she said by way of greeting. "May I say down?" He gestured to the chair facing his desk, the pressure of his headache intensifying slightly. His expression did not change, however.

"Certainly Camille," he said, "what can I do for you?" She crossed her legs, sighing as though the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders.

"I want to talk to you about Dr Brennan," she said. Goodman knew he should have remained impassive, but the mere mention of Temperance's name was enough to strike terror into his soul. Most people knew and understood how difficult she was to handle sometimes, and Dr Saroyan was learning quickly. "I am somewhat concerned…" she tilted her head, and she certainly looked troubled.

"Is she sick?" he asked, and Camille shook her head.

"No," she said. "From what I understand, when you gave me this job, I was enlisted to ensure the integrity of the Jeffersonian was not compromised, is that correct?" Goodman nodded.

"That's right, Dr Saroyan. Has Temperance done something to compromise our integrity?" Camille leaned forward, as though she wanted to disclose some terrible secret.

"She and Booth are sleeping together," she said, and Daniel blinked, unsure of what he ought to say. "I understand that you might think this inappropriate of me, and I agree, it's not usually something I would meddle in," Goodman leaned back, putting space between them. "However, the jobs that Brennan and Booth do are vitally important, not just to the Jeffersonian, but to the FBI. If their relationship were to interfere with their job, I dread to think of what might happen to the agreement you have with Deputy Director Cullen," she sighed. "I would like to suggest that you make a recommendation to the FBI directly… for I cannot imagine how this could possibly work." Goodman blinked, mulling over her words. He had tremendous respect for how this woman had stepped into the Jeffersonian with the intentions of maintaining their high standard.

"I'll certainly take this under advisement," he said. "Thank you for coming, Camille." As she left, he scrawled Brennan, FBI, and went back to his work, filing his recent problem as just another thing on his list of things to do.

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She heard her apartment door slam and she jumped, smoothing her hands over her thighs. Brennan had been nervous all afternoon, waiting until she had to tell Booth that their relationship was better put on hold for awhile. When he appeared in the doorway, his shoulders heavy and his jaw tight, she knew she had not picked the best time.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. He shed his jacket, pulling his tie from his throat. Brennan saw the swear rise in his throat, before he shook his head, tossing his jacket. She caught it, inhaling slowly. "Well," she said, "what's wrong?"

"I've just had a meeting with Cullen," he snapped, pressing his palm to the wall. She watched as he paced for a moment, the hard lines of his back even firmer when he was irritated. She should have been ashamed of herself, but she wanted to touch him, feel his muscles move beneath her fingertips, and for a moment, she was distracted. "Bones?" She blinked, smoothing his jacket. "And you'll never believe who called him…" she swallowed, hating that something was on his mind. Hating that she had been planning a talk, and that her plans had been interrupted by some inconvenient meeting with Cullen.

"No…probably not…" she agreed, taking a tentative step towards him. "Are you going to tell me?" Booth sighed, his forehead against the wall now. He shifted from one foot to another, a growl rising in place of the numerous swear words.

"Cullen got a call from Goodman," he said, as if this explained everything. "And Goodman has made a recommendation…" Brennan felt sure, suddenly, that Booth's mood concerned her, too.

"What kind of a recommendation?" she asked, dropping her hand to his shoulder. The muscles tightened there, and he turned, his dark brooding eyes boring into hers. She should have felt frightened at the intensity that she saw there, but when he looked through her, she felt a sense of arousal that took precedence over everything.

"That you and I be 'temporarily' placed on other projects." Her eyes narrowed, and her fingers curled into tight fists. "We're… not partners anymore." He could have said anything to her, called her names, told her that he didn't want to be with her anymore, but telling her that their professional relationship, the foundations of everything, had been torn apart, broke her heart. She felt as though she'd been abandoned all over again, and as she stood there, she was lost. "Temperance…?" he reached out to touch her, but she was frozen, her eyes wide.

"Camille," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't think she would…" Booth folded his arms, lifting his chin.

"What do you mean, Bones?" he asked, his voice dangerously low. She turned her back, moving slowly towards the living room, as though too shocked to move normally. He followed behind, his strides wide and determined. It took only two steps before he was next to her, his fingers tight around her upper arms. "What's Cam got to do with this?" he asked.

"Dr Saroyan wasn't as supportive as I first made out…" she whispered, sinking to the sofa. "I was going to…" Brennan cleared her throat, lifting her eyes to him. "I was going to suggest that we… put the lighthouse, Virginia, all that behind us and just…" he blinked, his long lashes touching his cheeks and he seemed to move in slow motion, shaking his head.

"No way," he said, cutting her short. "No way." Brennan sighed, cupping her knees with her fingers, squeezing tight, hoping that if she closed her eyes for long enough, the day could begin again and she could handle Camille in a less determined manner. She would be understanding, conversational, try to appease her instead of showering the woman with cool detachment. "Temperance," Booth said, his voice hard and firm. She opened her eyes again, looking up at him. "No."

"Booth…" he knelt before her. "We've done so much together…" he leaned forward, touching his lips to hers, slipping his fingers into her hair. She sighed, taking his face in her hands, feeling the prickly scratch of his stubble. The remainder of her sentence was dispelled as heavy sigh, and he parted her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She had so many words forming in her mind, and yet she was unable to speak, drawn into the magical world of passion that he had created with his touch.

"I don't want to talk about 'forgetting' about anything," he whispered, his fingers curling around her breast. She arched her spine, pressing herself further into his touch. "I'm not going to forget about any of it," he assured her, his free hand slipping under her shirt, moving over her the smooth expanse of her spine.

"What about our job…?" she whispered, stroking his lip with her tongue.

"We'll work it out," he promised. "Now I've touched you… there's no way I'm going back…" she leaned into him.

"That's not only your choice to make." He held her closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"Tell me you don't want me, Temperance…" she trembled, hating that she couldn't help but put her emotional instincts first. She should have been focused first and foremost with her job, about the effort she'd put into making their partnership a success, but instead, she wanted to be touched, to feel loved. She'd spent her whole life focused on school, university, work…

"Booth…" she sighed.

"Say it, Temperance," he replied, peppering kisses along her jaw.

"I can't…" she whimpered and in that moment, she realised that she'd summed up their relationship. Tomorrow, when the new work day began, they'd be forced to deal with the aftermath of Goodman's recommendation, but for now, she needed him.

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She loves him too much to leave him, sorry…

If you were looking for prolonged angst, then I must apologise.

Please review.