Next one, hope you're all still liking it. This is the one I am really unsure about so I hope it's okay. Thanks to everyone who reviewed that last chapter, you're great!

I don't do talking. I mean, opening up to people, discussing my feelings. Sweets is a perceptive kid and, although he looks like a twelve year old in his dad's tie, I had to admit that he's pretty good at his job. But I'd got to feel a bit of sympathy for him when you think he got me and Bones landed as his (I hate to use the word), 'patients.' I have never been the kind of guy who talks about his emotions as though it were weather or sports. Sure, I could talk about real emotion. I told Bones the truth about crappy sex. She knew that I meant every word. But it'd always been easiest to talk to her. Even then, though, we only spoke in generalities. Nothing was specific to me.

Nothing was ever specific to me. Only once, in my entire adult life had I told anyone something genuine about my time in the Rangers, who wasn't there with me. And we'd never broached the subject again, after that one time in the cemetery.

So I guess it's fair to say that I was kind of struggling with how to voice what I wanted to say. I hadn't exactly had much in the way of practice.

I started to speak but the words got stuck in my throat, half-said and I nearly gagged. With effort, I swallowed past the stabbing lump and tried again. This time the words made it past my voice box and I managed to speak. "My Dad drank."

I knew I'd told her that already, but I needed to say it again, out loud. It was the beginning.

I didn't look at her as I spoke; I was too ashamed. Instead I stared at the worn carpet, not really seeing it at all.

"He was… an addict. An alcoholic. A drunkard. There's more than one way to say it. Hundreds." I paused. "But when you're a kid, you don't know any of those words. Don't know what they mean. To me, there was only one name that I knew him by." I felt sick. If I carried on speaking, I was sure I'd throw up. But I couldn't stop. "He was my Dad."

"I… I…" I struggled again, swallowing hard. Bones sat silently beside me, waiting without pressure. Eventually I found a way to start my sentence that was easier to say. "You." I began. "You think it's normal at first. Ever since you can remember, your Dad's best friend is the bottle. He's a good man. Goes to work in the day, most of the time. Church on Sundays. He manages it."

"Then, as you get older, something changes." I stopped, the silence stretching. I skipped the details. "I hid it. We all did. The one thing we did as a family. " I breathed out a laugh that tasted bitter on my dry tongue. "But… it broke us, in every respect. That was the reason I started playing hockey, you know?" I glanced up at her for a quick second, and although she tried to hide it, I knew her too well and I could see that her face was creased with pain. "A place to let go. Just get mad, and hit something." I lowered my voice unconsciously. "And it was an excuse for the bruises."

I rolled my neck with my eyes closed and tried to fight the shaking in my hands, clenching and unclenching my fists.

"We all dealt with it in our way. I… I faced it head on at the time, but afterwards I lived in denial of it all. I threw myself into other things. Anything that would distract me. Girls, cars, sports." I knew my sentences were getting disjointed, but I'd spent so much time trying to ignore these harsh thoughts that it was all coming back to me somehow raw, each suddenly recalled memory like a knife in my side. I paused, yet again. "Poker."

"I knew a guy who knew a guy. It didn't take long for me to realise that this was my chance to escape, at least for a few hours every Thursday and Saturday night. When the chips were out, my entire world existed in that one small room, below Watson's Automotive Supplies."

"It followed me through the army. Was with me through the Rangers. I'd wait hours, days in one position, and when I did I'd be running through imaginary games in my head. Distracting myself again from what I had to do, what I had to face."

I could hear Bones' breathing becoming more unsteady, and her fingers shook slightly on my arm, but she still didn't say a word. Not yet.

"I came back, and nothing was the same. At first I thought the world had changed while I'd been away." I winced through a smile. "Wishful thinking."

"One thing hadn't changed though." I faltered then, and couldn't bring myself to continue. The shame choked me and I couldn't even form words to try and get past the shame that blocked my airways. I was drowning in it. My hands shook uncontrollably and I shuddered, shaking my head slowly, hung limp between my shoulders.

"The game."

Her words, so softly spoken that I wasn't sure I'd even heard her. When I managed to turn my head so that I could see her though, she was looking me directly in the eyes and I could read the words in her gaze, as clear as neon.

"Yeah."

I was silent for a long while after that. I didn't need to say anymore about that story. The rest was as clear as day. Ironic then, that the story's ending was as dark as night.

No, I realised. It wasn't all black night. Through the never ending midnight there was a light. Neon bright and outshining the gloom of the last part of the story. My light at the end of the tunnel. If only I could reach it, past all the murky shadows that gripped at me from the furthest edge of the night.

She understood, without me even needing to say a word. She gently tilted my chin upwards so that I was looking her directly in her eyes, so darkened with worry but still a crystalline pool that seemed to be endless in its depth.

"You were the fourth." I whispered.

Her brow knotted in confusion. "Fourth what?"

"The fourth person in my life I promised myself that I would keep safe. That I would protect from all the crap life throws your way. Just four people in my life who mean enough to me that I don't think I could live with myself if I let them get hurt."

She stopped me then, her voice serious. "Not everything is your fault Booth. If I got hurt it would be my fault, or whoever it was that hurt me. Not yours."

I opened my mouth to speak but she pressed her soft fingers to my dry lips and looked me hard in the eye.

"Do you remember the young boy we found wrapped in a shroud? Dylan Crane. You told me he rescued Kelly Morris from the foster system, that he helped her little brother and treated him like his own. You used a phrase to describe him. You said he had a…" she took a breath to steady herself. "… saviour complex.'" She paused, letting me remember. Giving me time to realise what she was trying to tell me. I took a deep, shuddering breath as her meaning became clearer.

"You are a good man, Booth." Her voice didn't waver and each syllable rang with such surety, such confidence at the truth of her statement that I started to believe her. "But it is not rational or possible for you to save everyone. Or to try and accomplish that alone, without external help. The world is not your responsibility." Her gaze burned with intensity. "Sometimes, the only person you need to save is yourself."

I stared at her in incredulous silence for a moment.

"Life advice. From you."

She smiled and it was almost a wince. "From me. Learned from you."

I smiled then, and it was warmer than I'd felt all night. "My own advice."

Her fingers had left my lips but not my face, and my cheek felt warm where they rested, unconsciously stroking my skin in small circular motions. Her other hand lay against my chest, my heart beating out a steady rhythm underneath her palm.

"I've already conceded to you." She said simply. "You're better than me at interacting with people."

We grinned at each other and I gently rested my forehead against hers. I spoke quietly, barely audible.

"Thank you for my life." I whispered.

"Thank you for mine."

And our lips met in a cascade of tender fire, our hearts synchronised to the symphony of thoughts and feelings left unsaid for too long, beating in unison for the first time.

Hmmm, so… thoughts? Like I said, this one had me nervous. The next chapter is the last one, and kind of an epilogue. Hope you liked it. Thanks.