I have no right to feel the way I feel, but I'm feeling it. I want to rip Ryan Murphy into pieces. They didn't get out of the car right away, and she'd leaned over to kiss him goodbye. Thank God, I didn't see the actual kiss. Then I remember all the times I'd let Hannah kiss me in front of Bones and I cringe. Worse thing is she hasn't mentioned this Murphy guy. Hasn't mentioned a date, or that she was going out with anyone. She could have thrown it right back at me, but she hasn't. Maybe she just started seeing him? I need to go find out what the story is with this guy. As I'm contemplating just how to go about this recon, my phone rings. It's Mike, my GA sponsor.

Mike's a good guy – a former Navy Seal – forced into retirement when he had his knees broken by a couple of guys over some serious gambling debts. Works as a bouncer at a high end club now – abstinent for seventeen years.

"Hey kiddo, how you doing?"

Amazing the timing of these things. "Not so great Mike, not great. Broke up with Hannah a little while ago."

There's silence on the other line.

"Mike?"

"Why'd you break up with her?"

"Why?"

"Yeah. Was this an impulsive decision or something you've thought about?"

"You're kidding, right? You're the one who pointed out how crappy I've been to Bones!"

"That why you broke up with her? Punishing yourself?"

"No, I'm not punishing myself! She tried to sweet-talk her way in to an exclusive on a case me and Bones are working! She pissed me off!"

"So you dumped her."

"I don't LOVE her, Mike, I love Bones."

More silence. "Well, why didn't you say that in the first place?"

"What?"

"That you finally admitted to yourself that you love Bones? Being in love with someone else is a damn good reason to end a current relationship. Being you've been trying to figure out what exactly you feel about the doc, I'd say this wasn't an impulsive move."

"Great, thanks. Now why are you calling me?"

"Just confirming we're meeting up after the 2 o'clock."

The two o'clock. Shit. I'd said I'd meet him at the 2pm GA meeting at Georgetown and then work on my first step with him afterwards. 'Admitted we were powerless gambling and our lives had become unmanageable.' Shit. "Of course, I'm going to be there, Mike. Not about to let a little breakup ruin my whole day."

"Good. I'll see you there then."

"Yep."

I hang up the phone, it's 1 now. If I high-tail it down there, I can grab a sandwich before the meeting. Mr. Murphy's gonna have to wait.

It is too damn hot in this church basement. I loosen my tie and wish I could slip my jacket off. However, in a room full of gamblers revealing my weapon was probably not a good idea.

Of course, I am one of those gamblers.

It's amazing how easy it is to separate myself from them…as if eight years ago I hadn't thought I'd never be allowed to see my son again because I'd lost the promised child support payment in a game of pool… I think about the question Mike told me to write about: My personal history of gambling & women. Last week I'd gone into this room after winning a bet with Hannah over being to last 10 minutes while she gave me a blow-job – loser paid for dinner. At the time, it seemed like fun, but I felt restless the rest of night, edgy. She'd wanted to fuck later but I begged off. Told her that I had a case I couldn't get off my mind and needed to head to the office for a bit. She was fine with it. Work stuff she always understood. I didn't go to work though. I drove around for a bit. Ended up at Bones' place. Her lights were out. Either she was asleep, or she was still at work. I missed her. There was a time I wouldn't be guessing where she was. I would know . I remember tearing up and feeling shaky. I wanted her so desperately for a moment: to see her, hold her…tell her I was sorry. I drove away fast. I didn't want to feel those things. I toyed with seeing if she was at work, but we weren't on a case. I really had no excuse to go see her, and if she wasn't there I didn't want to know. Instead, I drove down to a local pool hall. I walked in thinking I'd just play a couple of games. I paid for an hour of play. I picked up the cue stick and my hands started shaking. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

"Hey, old man, you gonna play or not."

The kid was like 20 – not even old enough to drink. Black tee-shirt, stringy blond hair. I looked at him like Jesus himself had appeared. Old man. Yeah, old man as in a Dad, a father, with a 10 year-old son.

I hand him my table number "Go ahead kid, knock yourself out. I gotta be somewhere."

The kid actually grinned, "Hey, thanks!"

I walked out of there, picked up the phone, and called Mike. Got my ass to a meeting the next day.

"…A desire to have all the good things in life without any great effort on their part seems to be the common character pattern of problem gamblers*…"

The phrase from the reading jumps out at me the same way it did last week. That night last spring starts playing in my head. "I'm the gambler" is what I'd said. I should have realized the truth in the words and stopped right there, but I was too on a roll, going for the prize, the dream…

"…Any betting or wagering, for self or others, whether for money or not, no matter how slight or insignificant, where the outcome is uncertain or depends upon chance or skill constitutes gambling.* "

Betting on Brennan, hardly insignificant, and the outcome – I knew it was uncertain. But I'd been all juiced up…

"Hi, my name is..."

I drag my attention back into the meeting. 10 minutes down, 50 more to go. Where is Mike?

"…In elementary school I started betting kids in marbles for lunch money. Mainly because mom was too drunk to remember to give me any. If I lost, I'd do their homework for than night. Sometimes I had 4 or five workbooks besides mine to take home, but another day I'd win enough money to have lunch for a week, so I figured it averaged out. Most of the time they never realized…."

Elementary school? Jesus, talk about young! I think back to my own elementary school years. I was gauging how drunk Dad had been the night before to figure out if he'd be home or not after school. Wondering how to hide Jared's ripped jeans, or my bad grade in spelling, hoping maybe he'd be passed out so we could sneak inside. Wondering if mom would be there with cookies and milk or in bed with welts and bruises, a cast on her arm, an icepack on her head…

I remember Dad slamming me again the wall, punching me in the gut for Jared's lost book-bag – the one I said I'd lost, because I was bigger and if he hit Jared it might kill him. By then mom was already dead, and I'd promised her to protect Jared, promised as I sobbed against her chest, while blood oozed out of her mouth.

"…By the time I was in high school I was already working for a bookie, running around after school picking up cash, making drops, skipping class if I needed to. I wanted to learn 'the business' figuring by – "

High school was cool once Dad was gone. Left us one day and never came back. Best thing that ever happened. It took me a long time to believe he wasn't coming back. To not be fearful that I'd be walking home with Jared, turn a corner, and there he'd be. He'd snatch us both, kill us the way he did mom, and leave our bodies in a garbage dump. I worried he'd come try and kill Pops, too. He was crazy like that, so I worked out, learned to box. Joined ROTC as soon as I could. Played some sports. Hockey mostly, but I did a few years of basketball – football, too. Girls loved jocks, and I loved girls. Luckily, girls loved me, too. I was always polite, gentle, kind. Plus I made them laugh, and had a great body. Never tried forcing anything or getting them drunk. Never talked trash about them, never cheated. Granted, maybe we went out for a few months, and then it would end - but I never cheated. They'd watch me in class, slip me notes. I treated girls right when I took them out, which got to be expensive…Pops would give me cash, and I worked part-time, but there were A LOT of girls. Betting on a football game, a game of pool, just to pick up a few extra bucks…I supposed that's where it started.

The sound of applause takes me out of my head and back into the room. I look around and see Mike must have slipped in - he's standing in the back. The room has gotten crowded since I last paid attention.

{* taken from the book Gamblers Anonymous ("combo book").}

What I love about my work – well, actually one of the many things I love about it – is how it is all-consuming. Once the body arrived at the Jeffersonian, my mind was able to focus on it and not Booth. Only hours later, while waiting for a lab report to come back, did I notice: Booth hasn't been around all afternoon. I'm relieved. I don't feel like having a conversation about what happened at the site, or whatever he saw, or thinks he saw, between Ryan and me. As I remember my own case of jumping to conclusions, I have to question my disbelief in Karma. Perhaps there is some kind of bio-chemical charge that the body emanates in emotional circumstance that attracts atoms with the same electron pattern to be slowly drawn to a person…

I also just don't want to experience all the emotions that come up when he's near me. Instead, I think about Chi, and the recent developments occurring in quantum physics. While not my field, I have found the study of it interesting as of late. This newest idea of entwined atoms is intriguing and the ramifications are interesting. It implies that when atoms move at the same speed, at the same time, on the same frequency that the atoms then form a connection, a bond. That bond is always there, no matter how far away to two atoms become. Furthermore, the atoms affect each other. What happens to one causes an instant response in the other. The phenomena is not easy to create, and, thus far, has only done with single atoms. Still, I can't help but contemplate that it may be science's answer to the experience of love. Somehow, two people become tuned to the same frequency, the energy of their atoms somehow sync, and therefore, create a connection, a link to that person. I wonder if that's why I'm drawn to Booth, because when we are close every hormone in my body starts firing, so that a simple touch is like a shock of physical pleasure, and now, emotional pain... I try to not have him touch me.

"Brennan!"

I snap out of my thoughts, and look up from my desk.

"Oh, hello Angela. Have you finished the facial reconstruction?"

"Yeah, I finished it. I've been standing here with it for, like five minutes."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I did. Several times, actually. Where were you?"

"Sitting right here, Angela."

"Physically, yes, but your mind was clearly somewhere else. It's Booth, isn't it."

Sometimes, it's difficult having friends. Angela has a way of knowing what I'm thinking about without me saying a word. At one point, so did Booth….

"Sweetie…"

I feel her arm around my shoulder. I didn't even see her move. My first instinct is to push her away, but I don't. I've been working on this, letting people in, allowing physical contact as comfort from people other than Booth. It's been surprising to me how uncomfortable I am with it – and sad. It also tells me how much I had let Booth into my…heart, metaphorically speaking. How much I trusted him.

I feel her hand stroke my hair. I have leaned my head against her side – again, unknowingly. I have a vague memory of my mother doing something similar. The sense of being cared about, loved, is the same.

"Hannah tried to get a news interview while we were inspecting the body. It just…made me angry. She was trying to use her relationship with Booth to get an interview before we'd had any time to even do anything."

"Not cool."

"What does temperature –"

"- Not good, not nice, not ok."

"Oh. Then yes, not cool." I pull away from her then to look up at her. "Why would she put him in that position? I understand her work…and it's important, but…"

"Not more than Booth."

"No."

"Sweetie…Booth's got to figure out for himself what's ok and what isn't in a relationship – the same way you had figure out what love actually was."

"I thought he knew about relationships? I thought he –"

"Please, Booth is just about as clueless as – as clueless as you used to be about love."

I don't want to talk about this anymore, but I don't know how to get out of the conversation. So I'm silent. Then, I remember something… "Angela, this feels very awkward."

Angela gives me a big smile, the kind that makes her eyes sparkle. Over the years I have learned that particular smile means I have done something not incorrect, but amusing none-the-less. "Okay, sweetie. We don't have to talk about it anymore. Take a look at this reconstruction."

I glance at it. It's the face I'd seen on the skull. "Yes, that's him. Any hits from the data base?"

"No. I just wanted you to look at it before I sent it over to Booth to see if –"

"You can just hand it to me."

Ange and I both turn and see Booth standing by the door. I don't know how long he's been there or how much he's heard.

"Talk about awkward."

Angela's quiet muttering is quite appropriate. I can't not look at him. I feel many different emotions swirling through my mind, too fast for me to identify. He turns his eyes to Angela. I watch him walk in and take the drawing from her hands and give her a small smile.

"You're right about me being clueless."

I feel myself start to shake. Booth hates gossip. I have apparently given him yet another reason to be angry with me. Then his eyes meet mine again and…whatever this expression is I'm seeing, it isn't anger.

"I need to talk to Bones, Angela."

I'd forgotten she is still in the room, even though she is standing right next to me.

"Don't be a jerk with her, Seeley. Just because I'm pregnant don't think I won't come after you."

"Angela!"

"It's ok, Bones. I deserve that."

I feel Ange squeeze my shoulder. "I will call you later, ok?"

I nod, because speech is not something I feel capable of. I watch Angela leave. Booth moves and he's suddenly standing almost exactly where Ange had been. His hand brushes my shoulder and that shock of pleasure/pain ricochets through my body. I stiffen instinctively.

"Do you really hate me that much?"

"What?"

"You flinch whenever I touch you."

I don't know what to say. I don't want him to know the truth. After a moment I realize I can answer his question without lying.

"No. I don't hate you at all."

I don't think she's lying. I have a moment of panic; was that a gamble? No, because there is no outcome in this. Belief is not gambling. I believe her.

She is hiding something, though. I try to catch her eyes, but as soon as she'd spoken her eyes had focused on her desk. I'd thought I had all the words I wanted to say worked out with Mike. I can't remember any of them! Dear Angel Gabriel, messenger of God, help me find the right words!

"I'm sorry, Bones."

She's startled by this and immediately looks up at me. "I don't understand. Why…"

"I've been mean to you."

"No. You haven't been –"

"Yes, I have."

"You've just been busy, Booth, understandable -"

"Don't. We both know I've been a jerk and that you've been avoiding me because of it. Most of our relationship we haven't lied to each other. I'd like us to go back to that."

Those wide blue eyes are staring at me and tearing up at the same time. Shit, I didn't mean to be so gruff, certainly didn't want to make her cry again.

"I hurt you, Booth. I didn't mean to, I just couldn't process fast –"

" - I know, baby. I know."

Good God, where did THAT come from? I'd better talk faster.

"I know you need time for stuff to sink in. If I'd been listening instead of gambling that night none of this would have happened."

Baby? He's only called me that once and at the time I'd been bleeding in his arms. I remember the roughness is his voice, his lips in my hair, and tucking myself closer against his chest. I remember I was scared…and so was he. Why is he afraid now?

He is saying something about gambling that night.

"I don't understand what that means, Booth."

I can't help it. A grin flashes across my face. It's the most normal response I've had from her in weeks. Maybe she missed the 'baby.'

"I wasn't really listening to you. I had my mind on will she/won't she, instead just listening. I used you, Bones. Like a flip of a coin or a roll of the dice. I wanted a yes or no to make it easy. That's my thing, you know. I make a bet, take a chance. That way, it's never about me, what I choose, what I want, what I lose. It's just…fate."

"Booth –"

"You're the highest stake I ever lost. Priceless. And I'm sorry I did that. Pushed you like that. Then blamed you –"

" Booth! Stop it! Just, Stop. You moved on, it's okay. I had –"

" I tried to move on, but I couldn't. I was angry and hurt –"

" Then, I should be apologizing."

" - because you didn't just say yes? You NEVER just say yes, Bones. I knew you needed time, but instead I pouted like a little boy, picked up my marbles and went home."

"What else could you have done, Booth? I was…irrational, acting out of emotion rather than reason –"

"Exactly, Bones! That alone, had I been listening instead of just going for the win, should have told me I meant something more to you than just a work partner."

"You do."

Her voice drops to almost a whisper when she says that. I catch her gaze and pray she'll stay with me.

"You mean everything, Booth. You…you deserve to know that. Hannah is very lucky -"

She's been fidgeting with her hands while speaking. I reach down and take one into mine. "She's not in my life anymore, Bones. I can't pretend anymore."

"Pretend…?"

I can't breathe. Booth is holding my hand and staring down at me. His eyes irrationally make me think of dark hot chocolate. Hannah is gone. I can't comprehend what is happening or why. I don't know why he isn't sad, or why he's holding my hand. I can't look away.

"I can't pretend it's ever going to be anyone but you, Bones. I love you."