Booth walked into his apartment and shut the door, turning the lock. He tucked his gun away in the safe and shred his coat, draping it and his suit jacket on the back of the chair. Whistling, he made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. As he settled on the couch, he remembered that his phone had rung, indicating he had an incoming text, when he was driving home. Placing his beer on the coffee table, he half stood and reached into his pocket, pulling out the device. He flipped it open with one flick of his thumb and opened the text message. "S.O.S?" He blinked, only thing coming to mind: Bones.

Rather than keep texting, he decided to just call Angela; it would be quicker. He tapped his foot as the phone rang and rang and rang and he was about to hang up when Angela answered. "Angela, what's wrong? Is Bones okay?"

"Slow down, Booth. Bren is fine, at least physically."

"That's not reassuring. What's wrong?"

"She freaked out."

Booth sighed. "Okay, I don't know what the Hell you're talking about, Angela, so you better spell it out right now."

"She read your text."

He slumped forward, understanding what the artist wasn't saying. "Is she okay?"

"She's locked herself in her office. I have a key and I was on my way to get it when you called."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you better find a way to convince her to go on this date with you tomorrow night. I'm not going to let you two knuckleheads ruin this for me."

"For you?"

"Just think of something, Booth. She wants to go, I can tell. The first thing she did when she got into her office was look longingly at the flowers you sent her. Good job with those, by the way."

"Did she like them? I wasn't sure if that was too much. The florist lady said it was the right thing to do."

"And the pig too, nice touch."

He smiled. "She likes pigs."

"Anyway. She's scared and confused. You're changing your dynamic and she doesn't know why. She understands the significance of sending flowers and gifts and love letters—because let's be honest, here, Booth, that's what they were—but she just doesn't understand why you would be doing any of those things."

"I was just trying to be nice."

"Yeah, that is a little more than just being nice, Booth. If that was your main goal, you'd have skipped the flowers and the pig and the asking her out on a date bit and just sent her a text or stopped by to say 'hey, how's it going?' You went above and beyond and you and I both know the real reason you did it."

He sighed. Sometimes he hated how "normal" Angela was compared to the rest of the squints; she could see right through his bullshit. "This was a bad idea. I should have just called her or stopped by her place with Thai."

"Oh, no, you're not backing out of this."

He shook his head. "I have no plans to, Ange."

"Good. Now...Brennan."

He grabbed his beer and swallowed a big gulp before leaning back. "Can't you just talk to her?"

"I tried."

"Okay, give me some time to think."

"You got it. Maybe she'll still go shopping with me. What's this date going to be like? Formal? Semi-formal? Casual? Dressy casual?"

"Uh, I guess dressy casual? Not fancy, but not casual."

"Somewhere in the middle. Gotcha. I'll make sure Bren looks hot for you, Booth. Trust me. She'll knock you on your ass when you see her."

"I don't doubt that," he mused out loud, a smile on his face. Bones looks good no matter what she wears. She even looks good in that damn jumpsuit. She's beautiful. She's—He shook his head. Don't go there, Pal. "I don't care what she's wearing, Angela. I just care that she shows up." After goodbyes were exchanged, he hung up and downed the rest of his beer in one go. He cradled his head and stared at his blank television set. "I freaked her out. Damn it. I knew this was a bad idea." You said if she ran, you'd chase her, so you better put on your sneakers then, Bub. "I need another beer." He pushed himself up to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen.

Brennan arrived at her office promptly at seven the next morning. She strolled past security and walked through the lab. Unlocking the door, she entered her office and headed for the coat rack. Her feet were still sore from the amount of walking she had done the night before and she barely got any sleep. Angela had dragged her to the mall, not giving her any room to argue. All of the dresses she tried on were beautiful, but she didn't feel very comfortable in any of them. Plus, she thought the whole endeavor was rather pointless since she already owned more than enough appropriate "date-night" outfits and she hadn't yet agreed to go and was still leaning towards not going.

She was more than a little confused. She had honestly thought Booth took her out Tuesday night because he felt sorry for her. Now, though, she was beginning to think he had other motivations.

She glanced at the flowers still sitting on her coffee table and found herself walking towards them. There were certainly an infinite number of reasons why someone would send flowers—congratulations, get well wishes, friendship, courtship, anniversary, birthday, pregnancy, giving birth, death, just because. Out of that list, however, there were only three possibilities for why Booth would be sending her flowers. That coupled with the notes, the stuffed pig, and the text he had sent Angela, she could only conclude that his actions were not motivated solely by friendship or no reason at all—that terrified her and did nothing to quell her confusion.

She wasn't good with motives, so she could be completely wrong, but still, he had never sent her flowers before, whether they were meant to be something else besides a friendly gesture or not. Then something else came to mind. If Booth was just being friendly, he would have just signed his own name, wouldn't he have? He didn't, though, and that was one of the most puzzling things about the whole situation.

Shaking her head, she reached out and plucked one of the daisies from the vase. Water dripped on the coffee table as she brought the flower to her nose, breathing in its sweet scent. She lowered herself onto the couch and took another whiff. She thought about what Booth had said to her in Sweets' office that night. He had been so serious, so sure that there was someone out there for her, someone she was meant to spend the rest of her life with. Still, she was convinced all relationships were temporary; it was impossible not to believe that when presented with such damning evidence. Aside from her queue of broken relationships, there was Angela and Hodgins, Booth and Rebecca, and Booth and Cam.

Could she ignore all of that and accept this date with Booth, even though it was inevitable that whatever "this" was would be temporary? The consequences were great. She would most likely lose her best friend and her partner, for what, to satisfy biological urges? Was it worth it? Angela seemed to think so, Booth, as well.

She stared at the flowers again, smiling subconsciously. As she slipped the daisy back into the vase with the others, she heard a knock on her door. Turning, she saw Todd standing outside her office. On closer examination, she realized he was carrying an envelope. Despite her confusion, her heart rate sped up at the thought that it could be from Booth. She stood and walked to the door, pulling it open and greeted the security guard with a smile.

"Good morning, Dr. Brennan. I have strict orders to give this to you personally. The gentleman who gave it to me, though, wishes to remain anonymous." Todd handed over the envelope.

"Good morning, Todd," she said, taking the envelope from him. "Thank you." She went behind her desk and sat down in her chair. Exhaling, she carefully opened the envelope and pulled the piece of cardstock out. She unfolded it, and after tilting her head to see if Todd had gone back to his post, she read it aloud to herself. "I'll pick you up at your place at 6:30. I already have an after dinner activity in mind, but you can choose the restaurant. If it requires a reservation, make it for 7. See you then—Jasper." She placed the card down and found herself once again looking at the flowers.

Another knock on the door stole Brennan's focus away. She glanced in that direction and sighed, seeing Angela standing there.

Walking into the office, Angela said, "Look, Sweetie, I'm sorry I pushed so hard yesterday. It's just I see what you and Booth could have and it makes me sad that you two don't realize it yourselves or are too scared to go after it. You're letting the past control your future and that's not good, Bren. You're missing out on a lot because of that. I want you to be happy and I know you could be so happy with him. Just let go. If this date goes horribly wrong, you can drag me to one of the dry, Jeffersonian-sponsored lectures you love so much."

Brennan shook her head, skipping everything in the beginning and jumping right to the end. "They're not dry, Angela. Some of them are actually quite fascinating and all are very informative."

"Not the point, Brennan."

"He sent me another note."

Angela tried to hide her smile, but failed. She didn't need to be told who 'he' was; she knew. "Ooh, what'd it say?"

"He said he'd pick me up at my apartment at 6:30. He also has something planned for after dinner, but he was rather vague, so I have no idea what that something is."

"Where are you going to eat?"

"I don't know; he wants me to pick."

Angela beamed. "He's giving you some of the control, Sweetie; he wants you to feel comfortable with this." She sat down across from the desk and leaned forward. "What are you thinking?"

"If you knew that you and Hodgins wouldn't last when you first agreed to go out with him, would you still have said yes?"

Angela sighed. "No."

Brennan blinked.

"I wouldn't have, but do I regret the past two years? No, I don't. Everything Hodgins and I have gone through, all the good times and the bad, it was all worth it."

"It was?"

"Yeah, Sweetie, it was. I wouldn't change any of it." Angela paused. "Some relationships don't last, but many others do, Bren. Your and Booth's past relationships and everyone else's have nothing to do with you and him. Forget about everything else and focus on the relationship you've had with Booth for the last four years. Look at that to help you decide if it's worth taking that next step, but more than anything, do what feels right. And please, stop letting your fear keep you from being happy."

Brennan swallowed.

Angela stood and headed for the door, knowing when her best friend needed some time alone to process everything. When she reached for the door handle, Brennan called out for her, causing her to pause and turn back towards the anthropologist. "Yes?"

"Why didn't Booth sign his own name?"

"Either he wanted to remind you of something special that was just between the two of you or he was just as afraid as you to admit that what he was feeling went beyond friendship. My guess is it's a little bit of both."

"He obviously knows that we know who "Jasper" is, so why is he continuing to use that name? It just doesn't make sense."

"Because that name means something to the two of you; it's special. I know you still don't get it, so just forget about the name, Bren. It's not about the name, it's about the message he's sending." Angela smiled and turned back to the door, pulling it open and leaving the office, making her way to her own.

Brennan leaned back and slid a little down in her chair. She sighed and closed her eyes.