Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through the Season 4 episode "The Salt in the Wounds" just to be safe.

A/N: I am soooo sorry for the really long wait. This chapter just would not come out. I've had this and the next two or three planned out in my head for some time now, but every time I sat down to write it…nothing. I've been having trouble getting into Brennan's head. Booth and I, we've got like this mind-meld thing going on, but Brennan eludes me. Anyone who's read my other works knows that my writing is mostly character-driven and that most of that is emotion. Well, Brennan is more fact than emotion and I've been having a difficult time with that. I really hope I've got her mostly in character here. Ah well, I've made you wait long enough. I hope this is a good enough reward for your patience.

"We've been followed, Booth."

"I'm aware of that, Bones." He glared down at the array of photos spread out on the hotel's conference room table as if the force of his gaze alone might make them cease to exist.

"You should have noticed," she stated emphatically. "It's your job to notice. You're FBI."

As if he could forget that fact. As if he could forget for one moment the lousy job he'd been doing of protecting her.

Six pictures. Six different locales. And who was the subject of every single one? She was. Bones. His Bones. It was not acceptable.

Of course, he was in most of the photos as well, which only reinforced the fact that he should have noticed someone snapping them.

The university parking lot. She was grinning up at him, her blue eyes squinting against the glare of the sun.

The hotel lobby. They were arguing over something if the scowl on his face was any indication. Her hands were on her hips, and as usual, she was not backing down.

The Chinese food restaurant. They were walking out, twilight falling around them. His hand was at the small of her back and it looked more natural to him than anything in the world.

In his SUV, parked outside of the hotel. She was watching him, that same expression on her face that she wore whenever she was examining a set of remains. Her close scrutiny was obviously lost on him, for he was gazing off into the distance, keeping an eye on their surroundings. He had been watching. How had he missed the fact that they were being followed?

The police station. She was on her own in this one, peering out the glass paneled doors to the street beyond. She looked so alone, lost almost. He wondered where he'd been at that exact moment. Was he just a few steps behind her, just out of sight? Was he in the next room? It didn't matter; all that mattered was that he hadn't been there. And the fact that he hadn't known he was leaving her so vulnerable to some psycho stalker…it made Booth want to put his fist through something…or someone.

The lecture hall. Whoever this sicko was, he'd been close enough to both of them to capture the excited gleam in her eyes as she pointed to a slide on the wall behind her. The bastard had been in the room, for God's sake. Booth nearly screamed in frustration.

Instead, he braced himself against the full-body shudder which shook him to his core, and clenched his teeth together.

On the back of that last photo, in thick, black writing was a message Booth could not ignore: Last Chance.

"I'm calling in the FBI."

"Now, Agent Booth, I assure you that we're very close to apprehending a subject here." Westin was nervous. Booth didn't need a consult from Sweets to figure that one out. His face was pale. He was wringing his hands.

"How close is close? Do you even have any idea who this guy is?" Booth asked, waving the last picture in front of Westin's face.

"Well, er, umm…"

Booth took a deep breath and let it out. He had to think rationally. He glanced at Temperance, saw the vulnerability and trust in her big blue eyes, and all rational thought fled him. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and never let her go.

"Twelve hours," he heard himself say. "If I don't see an arrest by then, I'm calling in a team."

It was a half-truth at best. Twelve hours was far too long. But he'd give the guy a second chance, and he wouldn't let Bones out of his sight in the meantime.

He turned back to look at the Captain, who was nodding his agreement.

"Twelve hours," Westin said.

One wrong move, Booth thought. Just one wrong move and Westin's part in this investigation was over. He wouldn't risk his partner's life because this lousy excuse for a hillbilly law enforcer was inept. No. He wouldn't risk any part of her. Not ever.

"Booth, I'd like to go upstairs and change for the book signing now."

She watched him spin to stare at her, incredulity clear in his warm brown eyes.

"You can't possibly think you're still going to that, can you?"

She found her hands moving to her hips and her eyebrows drawing down in irritation.

"Of course, I'm still going. It's one of the reasons I'm here in Vermont in the first place."

"Bones, someone has been following us for the past three days, or has that escaped your notice? How am I supposed to know these weren't taken through the scope on a rifle?"

She felt her cheeks flame with color. Angry color, that is.

"We've been through this before. Remember a couple of years ago when someone was using my book as a blueprint for murder and Sully didn't want me to make any public appearances? But you said…"

He took a couple of steps towards her, so that she had to tip her head back a little to look up at him.

"That was a completely different situation, Bones, and you know it."

"No, it…"

"You were not the target in that case. The idiot worshipped you, he wasn't about to kill you. You and I both know that's not the case here. You're not leaving this building."

He turned away as if that were the end of the discussion. She shook her head and took a few steps towards the door.

"If that's what you think," she called back over her shoulder, "then you don't know me very well."

She heard his growl exactly half a second before she felt his hand on her arm, spinning her around. His brown eyes had turned black, and although she knew that it was the stress of the situation causing his pupils to dilate, it still unnerved her a bit.

"Please, Bones. Please think about this rationally. I can protect you better here. There are too many unknowns out there. Please, just wait until I can get a team in here."

His eyes pled with her, and she almost nodded and gave in to his well-meaning advice. Almost.

"Rationally, if this person has been following us, then he knows where I'm staying and all of my plans for the coming week. It's not exactly a secret. He'll know where I'm going to be either way. I'm no safer here than anywhere else."

"Bones, I…"

"I'm going, Booth. And that's that."

"No, you're not."

"I can take care of myself, Booth."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with an upraised hand.

"And—if I can't—I trust you to do it for me," she finished quietly.

Again, his mouth opened, but no words came out. He simply watched her, and she wished—not for the first time—that she were better at reading people. Finally, he shook his head, rubbed his brow line and turned back to Westin.

"I want four uniforms present at the book store. Two stay with her, the other two posted at the doors. Anyone questionable shows up, they answer to me."

Westin nodded.

"I'll do as you ask because I think it's a good move, but remember that this is my investigation…"

"And this is my partner," Booth interrupted him. "And you're gonna help me keep her alive. Got it?"

"Agent Booth, while I appreciate your concern…"

Booth held up a hand, and Westin stopped talking.

"This is your investigation for the next eleven and a half hours, and if anything happens to her in that time, I'm holding you accountable."

She was about to say something about them talking about her as if she weren't present in the room, but the look on Booth's face stopped her. His eyes were hard and cold as he gazed at the captain. He towered over the other man, and he used his height to his advantage, staring down his nose at Westin. Booth was in 'G-man intimidation mode' as Angela liked to call it, and Temperance was surprised to admit that even she was intimidated.

"You really want that?" Booth asked in a deadly calm voice.

Westin's head was shaking back and forth. "We'll do what you say. I don't want anything to happen to Dr. Brennan."

Westin was clearly not an alpha male if he was bending to Booth's will so easily. Of course, according to her own observations, Booth was just about the ultimate alpha male, so…

"Good. I'm glad to have your cooperation."

When Westin simply nodded and continued to stand there watching them, Booth turned and grabbed Brennan's elbow, ushering her towards the door. He paused in the doorway.

"Eleven and a half hours, Captain Westin. I suggest you get to work."

"You are not wearing that."

She glanced down at her attire as if really not seeing any problem with it. Booth had to admit, she probably wasn't seeing what he was when she looked at herself in the mirror.

"What's wrong with it?"

"I...it's…it's too…blue," he said with a sharp nod. "Yeah, I mean, it's too blue, it…"

It was blue, he'd give it that. It brought out the color of her eyes like freaking magic. It wasn't the color, however, that had him ready to pull a caveman, flip her over his shoulder, and lock her in the bedroom. Then again…

He shook his head and focused back on the problem at hand. And that was the highly inappropriate amount of skin which his partner's blouse was currently revealing.

"Booth, how in the world can it be too blue? It's just a blouse."

Yeah and those jeans were just jeans, too, right? They weren't very expensive denim leg-enhancers. My God, her legs went on forever. And when they finally did deem it appropriate to end, there were those three inch heels to deal with. He swallowed with some difficulty and brought his eyes back to her face.

Be truthful, he told himself. Be as straightforward as possible, and she'll get it.

"There might be kids at this thing, Bones," he heard himself say, and nearly smacked himself in the head.

A slow grin spread over her face and he knew he was in for it.

"Are you saying, Agent Booth, that you deem my attire as inappropriate for children."

He swallowed once more and nodded. Not just kids, he thought. Also, anything with a Y chromosome.

"Right," she said with a nod, taking a few steps towards him. "Does it make you want to…practice?"

Oh God. Oh good Lord, what had he done to deserve this? His throat was so dry he was having trouble drawing breath, his heart was pounding, and there was an unavoidable tightness to his pants. He felt like a damn teenager at prom.

"Uh…"

"You did say we could…practice…later," she hedged.

Was she trying to make him loose it? She had to know what she was doing to him. She wasn't that naïve. At least not when it came to men. Just what the hell was she playing at?

"Bones, it's not…this isn't…" He took a deep breath and tried again. "You want to go to this book signing, don't you?"

At her nod, he continued. "Good, then go find something to…censor…your outfit there, and we'll get going."

She watched him for a few moments, her seductive smile fading into something more vulnerable. Damn it. Her confusion was plain in her soft blue eyes. Why the hell did this have to be so complicated?

"Alright," she said, then she turned around and headed back into the bedroom.

Booth sunk down on the couch with a groan. He hated it when she went all quiet and helpless-looking like that. Because she wasn't helpless. If there was one thing his Bones wasn't, it was helpless. Except, it seemed, when it came to the people she cared about. And even if she didn't know it, she cared about him.

He knew she was afraid of losing those she was closest to. Lord knew she'd lost enough people to legitimize that fear. And no matter how hard he tried, it seemed he couldn't make her believe that he was here to stay. When she went all wide-eyed like that, it was like she was afraid she'd made a wrong move; like if she messed up even the tiniest bit, they'd all abandon her. And that was the last thing he wanted her to think. She could mess up all she wanted with him, and he wasn't going anywhere.

And he knew that he wasn't helping the situation any. He'd be the first to remind her that anything…romantic, between them was totally out of the question. And then he'd gone ahead and told her they could 'practice'. What a frickin' asshole.

She finally came out of the bedroom, muttering under her breath something about a line and blondes. She'd put some kind of lacy top under the blouse, and the creamy lace peaking up from behind the blue silk nearly made Booth's eyes cross.

"Better?" She asked.

He nodded slowly. It wasn't, not by any means. Because he knew what that lace was attempting to hide, and the delicate, feminine fabric against her soft, smooth, pale skin was enough to make any man forget how to breathe.

He glanced at his watch. It'd have to do or they were going to be late.

"Great, Bones. You look great," he told her.

Then, with a hand at the base of her spine, he ushered her out of the hotel room and down the hall to the elevator.

"I want to get there a little early and make sure everyone's in place. I wanna have a feel of the place before everyone else starts to show up."

She nodded like that made sense. He knew it didn't; at least not to her.

He smiled gently and wrapped his arm more fully around her slim waist.

"You think Hart might show up to this thing?" He asked in her ear. He knew he was just cementing his jerk-like status, but he couldn't stand that unsure, lost look in her eyes. He had to do something to let her know they were okay.

She froze a moment before turning to look up at him.

"He might," she ventured cautiously.

He squeezed her to him more tightly as the elevator stopped at the garage and the doors slid open. "Good."

He saw her eyes narrow out of the corner of his eye.

"Why is that good?"

He shrugged, their bodies sliding against each other in the process. He felt her shiver and had to suppress a grin. "We can put our practice to good use."

He beeped the SUV unlocked and ushered her to her side.

She stopped him from opening her door with a hand on his forearm. "We didn't really get in all that much practice," she remarked with a small smile.

"No?" He asked, tipping his head to the side as if he had to think about that. "Huh. I guess we didn't."

He didn't know what he was doing. His brain seemed to have short-circuited somewhere between the hotel room and...wherever it was they were now. All he knew was that when his eyes found hers, he heard her breath catch in a small, adorable gasp and that was it, his control was shattered.

"Booth?" She breathed.

"Bones."

His lips found hers unerringly. He tried to keep it soft, gentle. A simple brushing of lips. Her mouth opened slightly on a sigh and he slipped his tongue over her parted lips. God, she tasted good, better than he'd remembered.

They shouldn't be doing this, he told himself. It wasn't really practice, and he at least knew that. And there was that line.

He couldn't make himself care as her hands came up to grasp the open collar of his jacket and her teeth nipped at his bottom lip. He opened for her and her tongue swept in, bringing his blood to a boil. He held her closer, one hand at her waist, the other at the back of her neck. Their tongues dueled, their lips fought, their teeth clashed. It was as if every other aspect of their relationship translated to this. The taunting, the teasing, the banter and tension. It was all here, making this so…intense, so…erotic that he couldn't have pulled away if he'd wanted to. He hadn't planned any aspect of the kiss, had in fact tried his damndest to avoid it, but he was helpless to stop it now.

"Booth," she gasped against his lips.

He pulled back slightly to see her eyes dilated and her hair tousled.

"Temperance."

"Are we still practicing?"

He didn't have an answer.

God, what was he doing? They both knew this wasn't right, wasn't possible between them. In their line of work…

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? Certainly not himself.

He already cared more about her than he had anyone…ever—save Parker. How in the hell would a relationship change that?

She could get scared, a small voice in the back of his mind told him. She could run from you. You could lose her.

He refused to think about it.

He shook his head and finally met her eyes.

"We, uh…we have to go."

And with that, he reached around her, opened the door, and unceremoniously lifted her onto the seat. In her still-dazed state, she allowed it.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought! I'll try my hardest to have the next chapter up by next week.