Authors note: So sorry I update so infrequently. First off, I'm busy as hell (aren't we all) and secondly, it takes me so long till I feel satisfied with what I've written. I'll try to do better. I promise. Please rate and review. Dziękuję (Thank you in Polish).

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--A few weeks later--

They walked into the diner and sat down at a booth this time instead of the stools that they so recently had begun to favor. Booth had walked over from her office with her with a heavy heart. When she had asked him to lunch he could tell she wanted to relay bad news and the only bad news he could imagine was that she was not pregnant. Since those two nights of lovemaking he had barely thought of anything else, but he respected the boundaries she immediately put up so they could manage to work together. And things had pretty much gone back to normal. Except when they got too close, to examine remains or bend over a body on the lab table, then he could feel the electricity surging between them. He had no idea if she felt the same way. She never gave any indication that she did. Always professional, sometimes goofy. It was the same ol' Bones.

He wished he had the same kind of self-control. He was constantly reminded of what had happened. She would turn her head to talk to a colleague and he would remember how she arched against him, turning her head to give him more access to her neck. He'd see her hands at work, holding some scientific thingymajig and he'd remember how they looked wrapped around his cock, her eyes locked on his as she watched him spurt come all over her hands, her mouth. They had made love countless times that night, had shown each other every kind of pleasure, and then when morning came, she kicked him out. She seemed to make some sort of decision and she just turned it off. Cold. To say that he was devastated was a understatement. He stumbled out of the apartment and for the first time since college considered getting drunk at dawn. But instead he just went home, showered and went to work. He'd endured a lot worse than this, he told himself at the time, real pain, physical pain. But not since Rebecca had he felt so abandoned. And it wasn't even the end of his relationship with Rebecca that was so painful. It was when they parted he knew he wouldn't be able to see Parker every day and this broke his heart. Luckily he didn't have to see Brennan that day, but when he did, he did his best to remain as close to the old Booth as possible.

And now he was sitting across from her and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to keep it together long enough to have her tell him the whole thing was a miserable failure. She looked beautiful, as usual, her hair up in a messy bun, a cream colored button down shirt and blue pencil skirt that hugged every curve. Is she trying to drive me crazy? he thought.

Brennan ordered tea for herself, then, glancing at Booth, ordered him a cup of coffee. He looked nervous. She wasn't sure how she was going to break this to him, especially considering all they had experienced together. She had lost something that second night, a part of herself she wasn't able to recover. And this completely terrified her. For Brennan, there was no concept of love, no concept of happily ever after. Maybe it was her job, definitely her childhood, but she never saw that anyone in love was ever really happy in the long run. She couldn't risk that happening with Booth. Their relationship was far too valuable to destroy it with a temporary coupling. This is why it's best to have these sorts of experiences with people you don't know very well, she thought. Makes it far easier to end it.

Best to get started and get it over with, she thought. "I think you know why I want to talk to you," she said, swallowing hard, "It didn't work. We tried to conceive a baby, but maybe it's my age, or your sperm, or infertility, or whatever, but it didn't work and I need to look into other options." There. She said it.

Booth stayed stock still listening to the words rush out of her mouth in all one breath. "Ok," he said. What do you want to do next?" He tried not to sound too hopeful. 'Other options' sounded ominous.

Her eyes shifted away, looking out of the window. The tea and coffee were delivered and they took several sips in silence. Booth fiddled with an open sugar packet waiting for her to speak.

"I have to find another donor."

Booth closed his eyes. She kept talking, telling him how hard this was for her, how she really wanted him to be the father of her child, but it just wasn't meant to be. She kept talking but he wasn't listening anymore. There was no way he could let another man between her legs for as long as he was alive. And there was no way he could let her have a baby with anyone else. There had to be another way.

He interrupted, "I think we should try again. Just keep trying until it happens."

They looked at each other for a long time after he said that. It was a serious look, the one that passes between people so rarely, but speaks volumes. In that moment there was no thought, no internal chatter, only the feeling that they were the only two people left on the planet. All of the rest of humanity didn't exist, didn't matter.

"We can't," she blurted out.

"Why not?"

"It's not good for our friendship to be so...so...close." A small line of worry appeared on her forehead.

"I don't want to be friends," he said matter-of-factly. This was it, he thought. All cards on the table.

"What?"

"Bones. Temperance. I just can't. I can't. Because I'm in love with you."

"No you're not."

"What? Wait. No, I am in love with you. I want you. I want to be with you, make a baby with you. Have a family. Go skiing in the winter and Disney during summer vacations. " His face was open, pained. It was a huge gamble for him to admit this. She was sure to strike him down. Then why are you doing it? a voice in his head cried out.

You don't know what you're talking about," she said sternly. She looked away, out of the window, watching people passing by, people who were unaware of the turbulence inside the diner. Why did he have to do this now? Why does he have to make this so difficult?

"I want a baby," she said for what felt like the millionth time.

"I know," he said. "I want one too. With you." His eyes grew tender, the worry lines on his head softening. "I love you. Like I've never loved anyone or anything. Except for Parker. Ok, that's different. But I want to spend every waking moment for the rest of my sorry, pathetic life with you, yelling at each other about who's going to do the dishes, rubbing each others back at the end of a hard day, sharing everything."

"I gotta go," she said abruptly, grabbing her bag, rifling through and throwing money on the table. She just had to hold it together for a moment longer, get out of this place and then cry her eyes out. Maybe, finally, tell Angela.

"I'm sorry Booth. I really am." She stood. "I can't be in love with you. I mean," she corrected herself, "I'm not in love with you." The huge lump in her throat was almost causing her to choke. Any minute and it was going to be too late, she would fall completely apart in front of his eyes, 'thaw and resolve itself into a dew'.

She moved to walk past him and he grabbed her arm. "No Temperance. There is something here. I can feel it. Are you going to admit it or not?" He was holding her arm very tightly and she could tell he was getting angry.

Wrenching her arm free, she leaned down, whisper-shouting in his ear, "How many times have I told you, I am a scientist. There is no such thing as love. It's a biological imperative to keep people procreating. If I told you I felt any differently, I'd be lying. End of story." She stomped past him, swinging the door so hard it banged on it's hinges.

She made it as far as the next corner before she started to come apart. She spied an alley and sprinted down it, hiding in the doorway, trying to ignore the stale smell of urine and god knows what else, the tears coming hard now, uncontrollable. She sobbed for a few minutes like that, then wiped her eyes. Why did she feel so incredibly sad? There's no denying we shared something that night, she thought. Maybe that's it. While it hadn't been hard for her in the past to feel nothing but sexual attraction for a lover, she did sometimes feel tender towards them. Maybe that's what's happening. You can't make love like that and not feel anything. In her state, she didn't notice she had replaced the usual term "sex" with "making love."

She composed herself, wiping mascara off her cheeks and taking several deep breaths. She had made the right decision, she told herself. I do love him, as a friend, and I have to try to preserve that. I can't hurt him.

But the heaviness clung to her heart and she knew at that moment, she would never recover from what had happened to her and it felt like she would never be happy again.