Here I am with chapter two, letter B! This chapter is kind of like the first one, but this is from Brennan's POV and it's set in present time :) Enjoy!

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Bed

She opened half an eye and groaned. It was still very dark, it had to be quite early.

She turned in her bed, facing the opposite side of her little hut. She was still there. And she was still having that thought. What is my problem? She asked herself in annoyance. That island was turning her into a fragile little girl. And she was not used to being fragile. She was everything but fragile, for heaven's sake. But those past few months made her exactly that. She had always liked being alone, having some time for herself, staying away from "home", but just because she knew she had no home, not really. She used not have anyone at home waiting for her, her only home was the Jeffersonian Institution, but when she was out of the country for some digs she actually was doing her job so she never missed it. She was free.

Now? A few years had changed everything. Seeley Booth had walked into her life and changed everything she knew. He had helped her find her family, her friends, herself. But she had to admit that with him she had lost some of her freedom. She had become attached to him and she wasn't used to that. All of a sudden she had friends, a home, a job she loved with people she has actually grown to care about, she had a great partner/best friend/whatever he was… and now she was there on that island, a decision she made herself willingly but that now she was starting to regret. She said she needed a break but now, after two months, she was beginning to think that maybe one whole year at the other side of the word was a little too much of a break. She missed them all. Her people, her friends, the Jeffersonian, her father, DC… Booth.

She missed her home. After years of freedom, that now didn't appeal to her as much as it used to, she finally had a home. And she missed it more than she could ever imagine.

She still had dreams, a lot of dreams. Some were nightmares, her usual ones that made her wake up covered in cold sweat, glad to be safe, glad that everyone was safe. As far as she knew.

That was another problem. She basically left DC to not worry all the time about Booth and her friends getting hurt working on murder cases… but there she was, spending more time worrying about all of them than identifying bones. Booth was in a war zone, for crying out loud. How could she not worry? They communicated quite a lot, at least twice a week, but it was not nearly enough for her to relax. Hodgins and Angela luckily were happy and together in Paris, but still, she couldn't see them every day to make sure everyone she loved … cared about…was safe.

Some other dreams were not nightmares. They were not bad dreams but sometimes the feeling she had when she woke up was even worse, if possible, than the usual nightmares. They were good, nice dreams in a good, nice alternate life, so very different from the one she was living at the moment. And most of these dreams involved a man with deep brown eyes. For a few hours she could be happy, really happy, even if it was only in a dream. But then she always woke up alone facing the empty side of her bed. Her queen sized bed.

When she had first entered into her hut she had to laugh out loud. A little hut that didn't even have running water but had a queen sized bed. What a waste of space. Yes, it was comfortable, she had expected having to sleep on a little camp bed for a year so she wasn't complaining at all… but she really didn't need that much space in bed. It's not as if she would have any company in there. And sometimes, when she woke up from her dreams, both kinds of dreams, she would have given anything not to be alone in that huge empty bed.

She turned back on her other side, facing that empty part of the bed. Her hand travelled across the cool sheets. No one had ever slept there. Not even she did. She always slept on the right side, like she did in her own bed. The left side was always empty and cold. Both in her bed and in this one.

She wasn't used to having people in her bed, she never wanted that. Even her boyfriends or men with whom she satisfied her… biological urges rarely stayed in her bed until the morning. Most of the times either they left willingly or she kicked them out. But lately? Lately she had realized that it would be nice to have someone to hold her in the aftermath of her nightmares, someone to make sure she never woke up alone.

Well, not someone. She didn't want just someone anymore. She wanted her someone, the brown-eyed man that penetrated all of her dreams. But she was starting to have the feeling that that would just exist in that fictional world in her mind.

When she felt her eyes close she surrendered to the sleep, hoping that she would find herself in one of her sweet dreams, at least for a little while.

But she knew well that in a few hours she would wake up alone, facing once again an empty, bad-used queen sized bed.

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What did you think? Let me know! :) Next up, letter C!