I'm baaaaack! For those of you who don't know, my creative muse withered and died completely these last two months. I sincerely apologize for leaving all of you hanging, and hope you had the patience to stick with me. Hopefully there are no little voodoo dolls out there with my face on them. I don't know if the rapidly-approaching season is responsible for this chapter, or if my muse/bitch just decided to show her face now. So - here is the next chapter, and I really hope you find it worth the abominably long wait. Thank you to all of you who reached out to me and reassured me. It was very heartening to know you didn't hate me! Or - if you did, you didn't say so. Heh. Thank you again.

THE BET

Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump...Booth sighed as they slid into mile ninety-seven of their two hundred and fifteen mile trip. They'd been on the road for over two hours and she was still acting freaky. Hazarding a glance at her, he took in her set jaw and stiff back and turned his eyes wearily back to the highway.

Bones was in a shitter of a mood, had been since he'd walked into the Jeffersonian. Giving her time to gain her footing obviously hadn't been one of his better ideas. By the time he'd been able to drag her out of the lab they were an hour and a half behind and three arguments deep. Even as he'd herded her down the hall she'd refused to relinquish her hold on Zach's arm, and had only stopped spitting out instructions when he shut the door in her face. Since then she'd pointedly ignored him, instead keeping busy on her phone and laptop with a myriad of reports and lessons and articles. All his efforts to get any kind of satisfactory response from her were shot down without hesitation. Hell, he was beginning to feel like he had when they'd first started working cases together. Back then they'd been at each other's throats more often than not. Unable to repress a nostalgic smile at the thought, he remembered one particularly frustrating week when she hadn't spoken to him at all unless it was directly related to the case. Old school days, yeah.

She began to fish for her celphone again and he carefully kept his gaze on the road. She was crazy if she thought she'd get a signal out here. They were well into the foothills of the Appalachians, and the service on his phone had been spotty when Charlie called him with a question twenty minutes ago. He remained silent while she tried to make a call a second time, and then a third. It was no use. She wouldn't be able to reach the lab until they were nearer to a town. Reluctantly she began to put her phone away, but apparently changed her mind and quickly tried again.

"Problem, Bones?" When she cut her eyes at him, he swore he felt the slice, somewhere just below the chin. Well aware of her frustration, he kept his expression bland.

"There's no problem. Why do you think that there's a problem?"

"Oh, I don't know – maybe because you just tried to call the lab seventeen times. Everything okay?"

"I did not try to call the lab seventeen times. Everything is fine. I have more instructions for Zach, but I've been unsuccessful in establishing a phone connection with the Jeffersonian."

He suppressed a gusty sigh of annoyance at her tart tone. "You could just send him an email."

From her expression, it was clear that she considered his solution less than satisfactory. "That's not going to work either, Booth. Obviously if I can't connect with the phone I can't send emails."

"Maybe not right now, but send it anyway. It'll just sit in your outbox until we hit a spot with a signal. Problem solved." When he smiled at her he could almost smell the aggravation blasting toward him. He felt the tight hold he had on his temper loosen a bit more.

"That's completely unsatisfactory. I have very detailed instructions to give to Zach – it would take much too long to compose an email." A blast of compressed air shot from her tight lips. "You couldn't possibly understand."

He felt the smile ooze from his face, noted the slow throbbing in his temple. And felt the last of his patience slip just out of his grasp. He'd tried patience. Now he'd try something else. "All right, what the hell is going on? Why're you climbing all over me?"

Surprise flashed briefly across her face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, Bones. Even you aren't that oblivious. You've been snarky all day for no reason and it's starting to bug the hell out of me."

"What? Snarky? I don't know what that means."

"Irritable, Bones. It means irritable. You've been snapping and snarling ever since I got to the lab. Every time I say one word to you, you give me the evil eye. I want to know what the hell your problem is today. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, Booth."

A scowl on his face and ready retort on his lips, he glanced over, fully intending to continue. But when he saw her expression he stuffed whatever he'd been about to say back in his mouth. She didn't look mad. She looked uncomfortable and upset. Miserable, even. This was more than knee-jerk peevishness on her part. Something was really wrong. Fighting a rising sense of alarm, he managed to look to the road again. Now was not the time for this. No matter how much he wanted to just pull over and have it out with her, it would have to wait. They had a job to do and it deserved his full attention. He didn't want to distract her, either. She needed to be able to focus on her science. Tonight. Once they'd seen the sheriff and made what arrangements needed to be made, then they could talk. He'd make sure she got a meal, too. She hadn't eaten anything since they'd set out, and since she barely ate under normal circumstances he doubted she'd had any breakfast. He settled back in the seat, forcing himself to relax. He'd corner her tonight, and they would damn well do some talking.

*****

Exhausted from the long day and the inner tumult she'd been suppressing, Brennan rubbed at her eyes in a rare display of weakness. They'd arrived in town and headed straight out to the cemetery. From there, they'd followed the exhumed remains to the antiquated medical examiner's office, where she'd photographed and sliced and probed and collected samples for nearly two hours. She would have preferred to push on and begin talking to the family, but Booth had quietly overridden her, insisting that they eat and call it a night. They were both tired, and he'd wanted to tackle the interviews when they were fresh. She had felt the resentment welling up inside and had just managed to not contradict him. She'd known he was right. It would have been foolish to continue working at that point. She took a quick, covert glance at him. He looked tired, at least as tired as she felt. He'd been quiet since they'd snapped at each other earlier, spending most of his time either on the phone or questioning the sheriff. Not angry. Just...quiet. "How far away is the hotel?"

"No hotel this time. We're booked at Three Hills Inn. It's a B and B," he added when she only stared at him. "I rented the Garden Cottage. It's separate from the main house –"

"Why did you do that? I don't think that's a good idea. We should remain professional; we have a job to do -"

"Which is why I rented it." His tone as he cut her off was muted and carefully neutral. "There are two bedrooms."

"Oh." Embarrassment, an emotion with which she was only mildly familiar, flooded her. "I see." Casting her gaze away, she stared unseeingly out into the darkness beyond the cool glass.

"Did you think I planned this as some sort of romantic getaway?"

Her stomach curled at the sound of his voice, low-pitched and full of hurt. "I didn't know. It's just that normally we stay at a local hotel –"

"The hotel was booked solid. And we have a very full day ahead of us tomorrow. The B and B seemed like the most sensible alternative. I thought the cabin would give you more privacy for any work you need to do, and the evidence will be more secure in a separate building."

"I'm sorry...I apologize."

"Never mind." With a quick spin of the wheel he cut the Tahoe around a sharp turn onto a narrow stone-paved cutoff, navigating the neatly-tended drive with ease. "We're here."

She was treating him horribly. It wasn't fair to do this to him. With an unfamiliar ache in her throat, she registered the crunch of gravel underneath the tires and saw tree after identical pine tree flash past the window. But all she thought of was the sound of his voice, the look on his face. She went through the familiar routine in painful silence, checking in and lugging her dufflebag and equipment into the quaint little bungalow behind the larger main residence.

The minute she was safe in her room she began to pace. She was angry. Angry at herself. Angela was right. Something had to be done. She should just have told him what was wrong – directness was a quality she valued greatly. Why didn't she just say something? As she asked herself the question, panic rose quickly and she stepped away from it, mentally and physically. She strode back across the room, intent on preparing to go to bed. But her thoughts battered her relentlessly, and once she was in her bathrobe and slippers she simply sat, staring blankly at the wall. When the emotions rose so high she thought she would break, she pulled out her laptop and buried herself in her preliminary report, transcribing several pages in a furious rush.

She'd only just begun to regain control of her emotions when a soft knock broke the silence. Although it wasn't his typical lively cadence she was well aware of just who was on the other side of the door. Even if she'd been in D.C. she'd have known who it was. The coward in her – and to her surprise and dismay there was a coward in her – wanted to fling the covers over her head and risk suffocation rather than face him again. The realist in her made her get up and go to the door. It was useless to hide from the situation. Better to face it, and him, head-on. Her mind full of calculations and excuses and arguments, she swung open the door.

"Bones."

His eyes were so dark and so bleak she couldn't help but notice. "Booth, I –" Before she could finish her sentence, before she was sure what she was even going to say, he laid a gentle finger against her lips.

At her wide, questioning stare he simply shook his head, his face patient and somber. "Come with me. Please."

She hesitated a moment, looking searchingly at him. Whatever maelstrom of emotion was careening inside her, first and foremost he was her partner. Her friend. Because of that she followed him. When he didn't stop in the small living room but headed for the door she opened her mouth to say something. She wasn't dressed to go out and neither was he. But his eyes flicked back to her and once again her protest dried up in her throat. Her eyes found the grinning cartoon character stretched across the back of his shirt and she focused on it, unaware the rattle of cicadas or the bright wash of moonlight over them as they walked to the truck.

Three silent minutes later he hooked a left and parked, cutting the lights and leaving them in darkness. He sat quietly for a moment and then grabbed a dufflebag and swung out of his seat, rounding the truck to her. Unsure as to his mood, she accepted his outstretched hand and let him pull her back out into the moonlight. As they headed up the path, she wondered at the two circular, dimly illuminated buildings they were nearing. Bypassing the first, he approached the larger building and led her inside.

She registered the faint odor of something vaguely familiar even before her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The reason she could see at all was answered when she noticed the hole in the roof. Not a skylight but an actual opening, letting in the light and the sound from the night. Casting her gaze around again she was finally able to see where they were. Water spread out before her, as still and quiet as if it was frozen. It was so clear that it was almost invisible, a quality only heightened by the moonlight spilling in from overhead. Before she could ask, Booth spoke, his murmured comment barely stirring the air.

"Warm springs. The springs the town's named after. A pal of mine works in the area, cleared it with management for us to use it tonight." Glancing over at her, he spotted her cautious expression and his mouth firmed with anger. "Give me some credit, Bones. Something's obviously wrong. It's somewhere private, somewhere relaxing. We need to talk."

She flinched inwardly. That. What she'd just thought, what she might as well have said. Some things never changed, no matter how hard you tried to change them. That was exactly why they needed to talk. She nodded, hanging her robe and pajamas on the wall hooks and slipping quietly into the heated water.

He watched her for a moment before pulling off his sweats and t-shirt and dropping in beside her. He didn't fail to notice that she immediately moved away, across the pool to the other side. At the sight of her slim, pale back, so strong and yet so obviously stiff with misery, a ferocious need rose in him. He needed the reassurance of her touch, needed it badly. As fair as he tried to be he was only human, and though he silently cursed himself for his weakness he shoved through the water toward her, the balmy fluid swirling lazily around his lean waist. Nearing her just as she submerged he silently cleaved the water, arrowing down with deadly proficiency, his only thoughts of her. His wide palm brushed against her smooth hip and he instantly pulled her to him for a kiss thicker than water; thicker than syrup. The coil of her arms and hair slowly roped around him in a way that made him wish they'd never need air again. He knew he was doing exactly what he'd said was not his intent only moments earlier. If she'd pushed away or tried to stop him he would have let her, as much as it would have hurt. But the minute his lips touched hers she returned the embrace, seeming to need the contact as much as he did. They clung to each other, hiding in the clear depths, the silent water a witness to their need until finally they had no choice but to surface. He pressed his forehead to hers, prolonging the moment as much as he dared. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"It's all right. I understand."

He heard her slight breathlessness and knew, like his, that it was only partly due to being submerged. "I missed you."

"I know."

Her back had relaxed fractionally under his hands, and her face wasn't quite as tight. Relieved that she seemed calmer and that she hadn't rejected him outright, he dropped his arms and pushed away from her, resting his back against the side of the pool. "Talk to me."

She looked at him, just took a moment and stared. Somewhere in the last few minutes, all of her carefully prepared statements had evaporated completely. "I – I don't know what to say."

He hated to see her like this, scared and in turmoil, at a loss for words. "Just tell me why you're so upset."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Booth," she hissed in frustration. She didn't want to be here. Now that the moment was upon her she wanted to run as far and as fast as she could.

"It's hard to pretend to be sarcastic when water's dripping off your nose, Bones. Just start. I don't want you to say anything but whatever's on your mind."

"I don't know if I can do this."

"That's why we came here, so we could talk –"

"That's not what I mean." When he fell silent, she stared glumly at him. "I'm saying that I don't know if I can do this."

She wasn't just talking about tonight. Acutely aware of the gaping hole she'd just opened in his chest, he stared dumbly at her. "I don't understand." Fool, his inner voice mocked viciously. You knew this could happen.

"This. The romance, the relationship. It's not what I want."

"You were willing to expose yourself to it before, Bones. And I don't recall you decking me for it anytime recently. You've been fine with it up to now – you must have wanted some of it." At her disbelieving stare he continued, determined to convince her somehow. "It's a normal part of the human condition, it's why the race moves forward. Because we want…"

"What do you want from me, Booth?"

"I want you to be happy. I want you. I want us."

"You want to win the bet, too." When he gaped at her she flinched. "What I mean – I just meant that you are a gambling addict. How much of what has happened is because you want to win?"

He somehow understood instantly that she wasn't questioning his motives as much as she was her value. That she somehow thought she wasn't worth fighting for simply stunned him. "Fine – that's easily solved. I don't give a rat's ass about the goddamn bet. If it's worrying you, we'll drop it here and now. You're worth so much more to me than a stupid wager. But I'm telling you right now, between you and me – none of what I've done has been because of the bet. None of it."

For a moment she said nothing, merely watching him. She didn't want to believe him. If she believed him, it would mean something. She wasn't ready to face that. She couldn't face it. Before she could change her mind she plunged forward. She would tell him. And once she had, he would understand. "There are some things you should know about me. I won't even bother mentioning the typical college dramas. I'm sure all teenagers went through most of them. But there are other things...important things you should know."

He could tell by looking at her that the trials she so quickly dismissed had been much more than the typical college dramas. He let those pass, knowing they were for another time. But he had to know what was putting that tormented look on her face. "Tell me."

Settling on the low bench set in the pool wall, she met his gaze in her typical direct fashion. "I met Ben during the first week of school. He was very talkative, very outgoing. That was fortunate because I rarely talked at all. I was always happiest when I was alone with my books and my bones. I'd nearly stopped socializing altogether at that point."

It was in every line of her; there was a real, tangible reason why she had a problem truly connecting with other people. Damn it. He should have realized that. As bad as her childhood experiences had been, it was more than just that. "What happened?"

"Ben took me out; we went places. I had a good time, and I liked him a lot. It was the first real relationship I ever had."

"But it didn't work." He knew from the pained look on her face that it clearly had not ended well.

"It worked until he got what he wanted." When she saw the comprehension on his face she nodded in acknowledgement. "He was my first boyfriend." Swallowing awkwardly, she continued. "He didn't stay long after that. I finally realized what was happening. I don't catch on quickly, but I finally perceived the obvious and realized it was over."

Gathering her breath and her courage, she continued. "After that it was Evan. He was extremely bright and quite exceptionally talented in his studies. He'd lost his parents at an early age as I had, which I felt gave us something in common. As it happens, it was the only thing we had in common. He spoke seven languages fluently and lied to me in every one of them. I discovered he was cheating on me when I came back to my dorm room early because I had pneumonia. I walked in on him and my roommate in bed together. Evan tried to reason with me, to apologize. He brought me flowers the next day and said he had a good explanation." She grimaced morosely. "He told me that I'd been neglecting him, I had been too focused on my studies and had left him out, ignored him. He was just acting out because he was hurt."

So all of her sounding off about the lack of merit in monogamous relationships, or at least a significant portion of it, was just another way of coping. Imagining her, young and ill and betrayed, his hands began to itch with the need to exact revenge on her behalf. "I really hope you didn't buy that line of bullshit."

"Of course not." She aimed a hot stare at him. "His cheating had nothing to do with me. Evan was a pathological liar. His apology was just an attempt to blame me for his shortcomings. I quickly discouraged him. And I learned a valuable lesson. That's when I moved in with Angela. We were friends by then, and she had been trying to convince me to room with her. She was wonderful to me."

"Bones..."

"I'm not done." She spared him a single bleak glance. "There's more."

The hair stood up on the back of his neck at her expression. He only hoped he could stay calm for whatever the hell was next. He could tell it was bad; could feel it in every inch of his body. His instincts were screaming a warning. And they were never wrong.

"I met Rafiq six months later. He came to college as an exchange student, eager to leave behind what he felt were archaic traditions of his homeland. He was erudite and worldly. He neglected to mention, however, that there was one area where his beliefs meshed completely with those of his abandoned culture. He began to pressure me to study less, to spend more time helping him assimilate. To be a support for him. He was much more skilled at deceit than Evan - so much so that I wasn't even aware of the manipulation he employed. Yet even without being conscious of what he was doing, I resisted. My education was too important; I wasn't going to abandon it. Angered by what he perceived to be my lack of obedience, he decided to make the message quite a bit clearer." She sank lower in the water, desperately needing the heat. "I was just able to fight free. I hadn't had any self-defense training at that point but I still fought back. I managed to get away from him, get back to my room with only a black eye and fractured ulna."

He was sick; a putrid roiling rage was burning in him that wouldn't be extinguished. Carefully he swallowed the bile that had risen at her words. "Tell me that fucking bastard was arrested for aggravated assault."

"No. I didn't want that. I got away, and I didn't want to attract any more attention than I already had. I understand how illogical my reaction was, but at that time all I wanted was to blend in. I wanted to disappear."

He needed to hurt something. To break something, anything, because he couldn't break the son of a bitch who'd done this to her. With difficulty he managed to keep his voice low even as he gritted out the words. "You should have pressed charges."

"It would have been his word against mine. They wouldn't have believed me." She knew better now. She'd learned that wasn't always the case. But the words had come out anyway, unstoppable with him listening. They never believed you. Never took your side.

"That's not true. You know that's not true." Incensed on her behalf, he couldn't help his reaction, even as he knew it wasn't what she needed. This was Bones. It was unacceptable. "This guy...Rafiq..."

She looked at him again, a quiet, astute look. "No. I'm not going to tell you his last name because it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't matter."

"You say that, but obviously he does. Don't pretend that what happened to you isn't important, because it is. It matters, Bones. He should have paid for his crimes."

"Angela was so angry. When she realized what happened...I wasn't able to stop her. She went after him with a wood veiner."

A frown creased his features. "A what?"

"It's a carving tool. She was taking woodworking classes at the time. She embedded it so deeply into his thigh it almost didn't come out."

As the picture of a raging, bloodthirsty Angela played through his head he felt the blazing heat of his anger crank down one tiny notch. "Was she arrested?"

"No. When he threatened to go to the police she grabbed his genitals and told him if he breathed a word to anyone that I would press charges for aggravated assault." At his glance, she nodded slightly. "She already knew I wouldn't. But he didn't know. And he never said anything."

He knew every word she uttered was like pulling out splinters. Necessary, but painful. And bloody. That she was suffering was obvious. He gritted his teeth and watched her remove them by herself. And he knew there was nothing he could do for her.

"But Bones – all of these things? None of what happened to you was your fault. You didn't cause them to happen."

"A slight correction. None of what happened was my fault. But I did cause it to happen."

"That's not true. You didn't do anything wrong. You shouldn't blame yourself for their actions –"

"I don't blame myself for their actions. I'm not a fool, Booth. What they did, they did to me. It's their fault for doing it. But...it's my fault for trusting them. After Rafiq, I realized what was wrong. So wrong." She laughed humorlessly. "It seems almost impossible that one person could make that many errors, could choose incorrectly so many times." Eyes downcast, she clutched her hands together under the water, watching her blurred knuckles whiten through the blue. "After some time, I finally realized that I was the common denominator. I was the one with the problem." She saw him jerk violently, and her posture stiffened defensively until he subsided, the heated protest unspoken. "I'm smart. I'm so smart that I am well aware of my shortcomings. It's very hard, being intelligent enough to know what you aren't, Booth. It means that you're also intelligent enough to know that it's never going to change. People think that a person can outgrow the inability to judge people, that instincts can be developed. But that's not true. It's why I rely so heavily on evidence. Evidence never lies. It doesn't have any hidden agendas. It's never anything but what it is. In the end I decided to stop making mistakes. I am a horrible judge of character. So I decided to remove emotion from the equation and maintain only sexual or intellectual relationships. When I find I've chosen incorrectly, I simply move on."

"Bones, please don't do this to yourself."

"You said it yourself, Booth. I'm bad with people. I think I've proven that point beyond a doubt. Since you've known me, how many times has it happened? Michael. David. Will."

Thinking back, he remembered how upset she'd been after Will. He had comforted her, but hadn't realized that there was so much more going on underneath the surface. "What about Sully? He was a great guy..."

"Sully left." She leveled a despairing look at him. "Whatever good thing might have happened between us, he didn't stay. Maybe that makes me selfish, but he chose to sail off on an impulse trip around the world rather than stay with the woman he purported to love."

A realization suddenly snapped into his head. She always thought of love in terms of loss. She'd never known anything else. He saw the truth of it in her eyes, in every line of her body, and fought the urge to go to her and hold her until that horrible haunted look faded. He'd been so patient all along in dealing with her, supporting her. Waiting for her. But now, when she needed his patience most of all he was filled with a painful urgency, a primal need to tend to her and shelter her. Where was his control? With a near-herculean effort he stayed in the center of the pool and took a calming breath, studying her carefully. Whereas the relating of her experiences had driven him into an almost uncontrollable mix of fury and empathy, it had had the exact opposite effect on her. She seemed almost preternaturally calm, almost as if she'd made a decision.

And she had, he realized suddenly. He knew her thought process well enough at this point; so well that he had no doubt how it had occurred. That was exactly what she'd done. Over the years she had carefully studied her relationships and their outcomes and had rationally and decisively arrived at her conclusion. But it was a wrong conclusion. "No. This has nothing to do with logic, and I can't believe that you would just accept that about yourself."

"I've thoroughly examined every aspect of this situation, Booth. My conclusion is correct."

"No. It's flawed. How can you examine this situation objectively when you're in the middle of it? You're a scientist - you tell me. What's the first rule when you're observing something?"

Evasively she glanced away from him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Booth."

"You know exactly what I mean. You told me yourself when we investigated Marni Hunter's murder. You try to immerse yourself in a culture without distorting it with your own presence. Yourwords, Bones, not mine."

Shocked that he'd quoted her nearly verbatim, she stared uneasily at him. She'd never thought he paid any attention to what she said about her science. "That was a different situation entirely. I'm not observing another culture. I'm making a decision that's best for me, a decision that affects no one else…"

"No one? What about the people you shut out of your life? How are they not affected?" A brief hint of pain flickered in his eyes. "Your perception of who you are, your thoughts regarding the choices you make? All of those ideas are influenced by your involvement in them. You can't make a purely rational decision in this situation."

He was turning it all around on her, turning all of her time-honored constructs against her with barely a moment's hesitation. She thought quickly, desperate to find a way to make him understand. "Everyone in the world makes choices based on that same input, Booth. Personal decisions would never be made otherwise. You said it to me last year – we do the best with what we have. There's no other choice."

"That's exactly my point, Bones. I don't blame you for making the decision you made. I even understand how you came to your decision. I just want you to admit that you might have misjudged. That you might have blamed yourself for something that was never your fault."

Once again stunned by how easily he'd turned the argument back on her, she closed her eyes. In that instant all the bitterness and suffering she had been trying to suppress came crushing in on her. "I didn't want to hurt anymore." Fists clenched, jaw aching, she blinked, staring down into the water in a desperate attempt to maintain control. "I couldn't bear it."

The sight of her quicksilver transition from logical to emotional – the hollow hoarseness in her whisper, the austere anguish in every part of her - lanced through him, causing a vicious ache to spread. "Bones...I'm so sorry."

"Over and over again, I tried. I tried to open up, to let someone in." Tears and spring water dripped from her cheeks, dropping silently into the water. "Every time I did, it hurt more. I finally just stopped. And the pain eventually went away." Fighting furiously for control, she hammered inwardly at herself until she could speak again. "I can't go through that again, Booth. I can't."

He wondered if she realized she'd only traded one type of pain for another. He got that. Self-preservation was coded into everyone. If it hurt badly enough for long enough when you did something, you learned to stop doing it. But the thought that she'd given up hope of ever being loved was appalling. At a loss for words he stared at her bowed head, wishing that he was smart enough to say the right thing. She was wrong. But he was afraid he wouldn't be able to convince her of that.

She looked at him, her eyes drenched with pain and self-doubt, and he moved without any consciousness of his actions. The wrap of her arms around his neck steadied him and he clutched her close, grateful for the feel of her face pressed into his neck. Her breathing was lulling him; her nearness a calming balm for his soul. He dropped his lips to her shoulder, trying not to think about her final words. That wasn't for now. Whether she knew it or not, she needed him now. Sinking deeper into the thermal water, he held her, whispering words of apology and comfort and reassurance while they bobbed in quiet circles. The steam danced around them, blanketing them and keeping their secrets. Whatever changes came later he would have to deal with them. No matter how much it hurt.

Even if it broke his heart.

Love it? Hate it? Hell, if you at least read it, then I'm happy. Thank you again for your lovely words and your patience with me.