[A/N: You all blew me away with your comments. After splitting that chapter at the last-minute, I feared that I had left you with a rather boring and unsatisfying chapter, so your kind words were a terrific surprise! If you liked that part, I'm hopeful this will go over well, too. Thanks again for your very kind reviews! Reviews are so inspirational. They drive me to type, you know….

I don't own Bones or its characters. The people who do have my utmost respect, and I am indebted to them for entertaining me endlessly. I own my own copy of Like a Star by Corinne Bailey Rae and have played it continuously for days. I don't own those amazing lyrics, and I can only wish I could sing the way she does. I had to turn that amazing song off at one point because it stole my attention and dragged my focus away from the story. But now that this is written, it's back on in a loop again. Hope you'll listen while you read. That song is simply perfection.

FYI-Format for this chapter got really buggy-hope I've minimized the glitches.]

Chapter 13: Fighting Not to Admit They've Fallen

Beyond furious about what he'd just witnessed, Booth left the building immediately to go help with the arrests of the gang members. He intentionally hadn't left a message for Bones to tell her what he was doing. Talking to her the way he felt right then? Not... going... to... happen. He desperately needed some time to just be a cop and be himself and not to be anywhere near her. Never mind that he was early and that the whole team always dreaded his early arrival because that usually meant he'd harass them about every detail of the operation. Given what he'd just witnessed, this team was in for an even rougher ride than they expected.

As he drove to the field prep station, Booth hated the way that images of Hacker kissing his partner sent murderous rage coursing wildly through his veins. He also hated the fact that nearly all of his time with Bones lately had been emotional and draining and not the comfort it used to be for both of them.

Not really even remembering the drive over, Booth jumped out at the facility and quickly lost himself in the mindless work of stalking and catching bad guys and other things he could do by rote memory. Even so, he had been too preoccupied with heartbreaking thoughts to relish excelling at something he knew he was damn good at doing.

In record time due in no small part to Booth's expert guidance, the squad had caught nearly all of the gang's members and found solid leads on where the leader and two of his cronies were hiding. All in all, the raid had been highly successful. Now all that remained was for Booth and his team to read each person his rights, arrest and book them all, keep them in isolation so that they couldn't share information, and scrub the building for evidence that might be used to prosecute the losers for the crime they were investigating as well as the many others they knew them to be guilty of committing. Then they'd go after the remaining members of the gang.

Even though the bust had been virtually complete and they had immobilized and disarmed most of the gang's members at their hangout, the team remained on high alert. As such, they all reacted quickly when an angry Brennan came bursting through the door unexpectedly and started yelling at Booth. Since everyone (including Booth) still had weapons drawn and at the ready, Booth whirled as if to shoot an intruding gang member and nearly choked on his own saliva realizing how close he'd come to shooting his partner. He rushed across the room to cover her from potential bullets as he yelled "Hold your fire!" over and over again until he had shoved Bones out into the empty hallway.

With his body pressing hers against the wall to protect her, he just stared down at her, full of too many raging emotions to manage. "Bones," his whispered, his strangled plea barely audible as he allowed himself just a moment to relish the fact that she was safe and alive and that he could feel her heart beating wildly even through his body armor.

Without saying another word, he yanked her down the hallway, ignoring her tirade as he manhandled her without a second thought about it. He didn't trust himself to talk to her with anyone else around-not as agitated as he was and as vulnerable as she looked.

Once they were out in a relatively sheltered part of the yard, he released her only to have to turn back around immediately to grasp her arm as she swung it at him for pushing her around. He had been five seconds away from decking her, and hitting a woman was something he just didn't do. "Either calm the hell down or leave, Bones." They were both too emotional for him to guess what had upset her this time.

"You can't order me around," she spat at him angrily.

Still I wonder why it is,

Booth realized that he shouldn't be surprised that his partner could shift from tears of heartbreak to murderous rage within moments. If she had the capacity to yank his emotions around like that, it seemed only fair that she might suffer the same crippling mood swings.

"You just barged into a room where arrests were being made and agents had their guns drawn ready to shoot to kill. I'm the agent in charge of this case. I can order you around if I damn well want to."

"I was just trying to be your partner and be part of the team."

"By what? Having me shoot and kill you? I will have nightmares about that for weeks, Bones! If it had taken me one second longer to figure out it was you, you'd be dead." His gut rolled and turned and his knees felt like rubber just considering how close he'd been to pulling that trigger while his weapon had been aimed directly at her.

"I knew you wouldn't shoot me," she offered as much to console him as to remind her that she knew it to be true.

"Well, you didn't know that someone else in that room wouldn't. What the hell, Bones?"

I don't argue like this,

"You're freezing me out. You aren't working with me like a partner. You didn't tell me about this stunt."

"Not stunt. Sting. It's a sting, Bones. I don't help with everything at the lab. You don't need to help with the messiest police work. You have a long history of not controlling yourself with gang members and I can't give you a firearm. Having you part of this bust didn't make any sense, and asking you to be here would have broken at least three regulations."

"But we're partners," she insisted angrily to hide her fear that he had been choosing to work without her.

With anyone but you,

"Well, why don't you try calling me and asking to help instead of just barging the hell in and trying to get yourself killed," he snapped sarcastically.

"I did call. You didn't answer."

"Well, did it ever occur to you that I might be involved in... oh, I don't know... capturing gang members or something else important or risky? I don't ignore your calls, Bones. I wasn't ignoring you."

"Well, I didn't know that. I... I don't know how to read you... not anymore."

"Well, I sure as hell can't read you either! "Little Miss Rational and Logical" has been acting anything but. What possible logical explanation could you have for barging in on a bust, Bones, besides trying to drive me crazy?"

"You're shutting me out, and you're keeping things from me!" she yelled as if those were the real reasons she had been upset.

"Well, what are you going to do, Bones? Call and rat me out to your new boyfriend—MY BOSS? How does your dating my boss and not telling me fit into our neat little partnership agreement?"

Crap, did I really say that out loud? Now she probably knew he'd been spying on her. Well, one of them had to keep her out of danger, and she had shown that day that she hadn't even been trying.

She inhaled sharply and her knees felt more like liquid than bone. "I... You...," she stammered, unable to find the right words. Booth was good, but he wasn't that good. There weren't many logical explanations for how he might know that Hacker had asked her out, and she was fairly certain that her suitor had not called Booth to tell him. That meant... She shuddered to think what Booth might have overheard—and what he might have seen. As much as his accusation pained her, she returned to the matter at hand. She had a point to make and thinking about that had been better than considering the fact that Booth might have just seen her kissing someone else. In true Brennan fashion, she rebounded quickly and threw out a few verbal punches of her own.

"Fine, I'm having coffee with Andrew. I'm single. He asked. I accepted. It just happened, and I'm telling you about it. At least if I date your boss, you can't tell me he's an idiot, and I know you won't want to discuss whether he's heterosexual!"

Good Lord Almighty! This felt like a relationship fight. Even though they were talking about work, this argument had an edge to it that screamed that this was ever so personal. As he fumed and realized that this fight was more dangerous than invading the gang's hideout, Booth prayed. Booth prayed to as many saints as he could remember. St. Monica-his current favorite-the patron saint of patience. Man, he sure needed her help. She needed to follow Bones around and help everyone she dealt with—especially him. He also prayed to St. Jude and St. Eustace-if this weren't a desperate and difficult situation, he'd never been in one.

Frustrated by his silence and taking it to mean that he wasn't going to converse with her, Brennan continued attacking him, "You LIED to me, Booth! On my way out of the Hoover Building, I congratulated Ms. Villar on her upcoming date with you and she told me that you turned her down—that she had requested that you accompany her on a social outing but that you...," she paused, aching with the memory of the woman telling her that Booth had said that someone else had already captured his heart, "that you... weren't interested."

"Yes. I lied. I'm sorry. But you seemed so hell-bent on me going out. I thought you'd feel better... less I don't know-guilty or something... if I lied about going out with her." Rationally speaking Brennan knew that Booth had been being logical and that he had no idea that she'd had a complete breakdown just suspecting that he'd been planning to date Stacey Villar. But she had a hard time not being angry with him about it anyway.

"But you LIED to me, Booth!" she yelled back, the weight of her accusations pulling on both of them. "You snuck over here and left me out of the case. I can help outside the lab. I thought we were a team!"

He was still too furious with her to notice the hurt behind her words, "Dammit, Bones. That is not worth getting yourself killed over!"

We do it all the time,

Booth had been right. She had lost all touch with rationality. She was completely out of her element and felt unsafe and insecure. She considered telling him about her struggle, but her frustration with him took over again. She sniped back at him, "I don't know how you can expect anyone to date you if you won't tell the truth."

"You are way out of line, Bones. Way... out of line."

"I'm out of line! I have been entirely honest with you," she lied. "You're the one who is deviating from our established partnership agreement."

Surprising him, she threw out another accusation that showed she had thought she had been justified in picking this fight with him, "You also asked Andrew for time off. You're taking a vacation and you didn't even tell me."

Blowing out my mind,

If Booth could have imploded from sheer frustration, he would have done so in that moment. He had been almost angry enough to go beat the hell out of his boss over it. But he managed to hold back on any more Hacker-related remarks. He knew that his anger over her plans to date Hacker ran too deeply for them to discuss now—maybe ever. Bones was clearly upset and trying to follow her train of thought at the moment was making him dizzy. So he stopped trying and decided he'd just leap in along with her and frustrate her as well, "Jeez, Bones. Don't you have bones to examine or something instead of analyzing every single thing I do and nit picking me about everything? I just mentioned the time off to Hacker. I never take vacations, so I thought that asking way in advance made sense. I would have talked with you about it—when and if I planned an actual vacation."

"Booth?" Mikulski asked as he appeared from out of nowhere, trying to get the agent's attention. He scrambled for an authentic question to ask the man since he'd intervened with only the purpose of letting Booth know that the privacy of his conversation with Dr. Brennan had been compromised. It had been clear to him that neither Dr. Brennan nor Booth had noticed that a crowd of curious agents had assembled to watch the partners screaming at one another.

Booth looked up and realized instantly why Mick had called out to him, "You all have jobs to do and gang members to arrest and take downtown. Don't make me babysit you," Booth barked. The men and women scattered back into the house instantly upon seeing the look on the lead agent's face. Booth nodded his silent thanks to Mick. He owed that man a beer.

Brennan turned to leave, but Booth stopped her by grasping her elbow as lightly as he had been able to manage given his anger and frustration, "No, you don't get to leave. You need to listen to me...," he hissed, pulling her out around past his SUV and into the street so that none of his coworkers could observe them. After taking a moment to make sure that the area was clear and that they were safe there, he turned to face his very upset partner, "Have you changed your mind, Bones? Are you trying to make it impossible for me to work with you and still do my job or something? Do you want an out—are you trying to make me give you one?"

Surprising him, she allowed tears to spring to her eyes. Yet she said nothing.

"I'm trying here, Bones. But this... whatever the hell has been going on since late last week... it's not working... We're not working..."

She longed to have the courage to tell him that she was simply falling apart at the seams… that he had unleashed something between them that seemingly could not be bound… that she had been fighting like hell to get back to that place where being near him didn't affect her, stir her hormones, drive her nearly mad with longing and… with love. But such a confession was simply beyond her. And the fact that Booth seemed to be telling her that he could no longer work with her had chased away the remnants of her courage to begin to try.

Strangled into silence by emotions she had no experience managing, Temperance looked up at her partner. Lines of worry creased his brow, and his eyes were smoldering with anger and fear and other more tender feelings kept well camouflaged from everyone else but her. She observed his mandible click into that set position it always assumed when he was angry or threatened or worried. As unspeakably angry as he was, she watched silently as the man arranged invisible armor into place to protect himself and to shield her from wounds he knew would slay both of them if they started a more serious conversation in that moment. And she loved him for the effort... for his patience... for his restraint... for every single moment they'd ever spent together.

You've got this look I can't describe,
You make me feel like I'm alive,

Although he'd been pressed to the brink and on the verge of telling her that she had to stop or they wouldn't be able to work together, Booth paused and watched the swirl of emotion hiding behind the brilliant blue of his partner's eyes. As absolutely furious as he'd been with the risk she'd taken and with the way she'd rushed into that room earlier, his anger melted away when he saw her fear and her need of him and her pain evident in that face—that face that held watch over his thoughts and his dreams. Despite his fury, he loved her for her stubbornness... and for her determination to keep him at bay despite the fact that they both knew he'd be good for her and to her... and for the way that she made his heart melt every time she showed him a tiny glimpse into the well-guarded center of her soul.

Without a doubt you're on my side,

When everything else is au fait,

Not knowing what else to do and reacting without thinking about anything but the expression on her face, he leaned forward and pulled her into his arms, hugging her in a way that they both needed but that did not even remotely resemble a guy hug. He pressed his firm body against hers, closing his eyes as he memorized the way that her curves fit so blissfully against him. Binding her to him, Booth leaned down and nestled his head onto her shoulder and into her hair, taking the time to breathe in the fact that she was alive and that he needed her and that she did—although she'd fought so hard to deny it—need him, too.

Brennan allowed her partner to envelop her, barely breathing as his taut muscles demanded that her own give way to his hold. She stood there, held upright by his body and by the hot metal of the SUV pressing into her back. She felt "boneless" for the first time in her life. It was abundantly clear to her now that Booth was her anchor, her rock, the support upon which she depended even more than her beloved bones.

Heaven has been away too long,
Can't find the words to write this song,
Oh...
Your love,

Heedless of the rundown neighborhood surrounding them or of the potential for any of a number of FBI agents or technicians or even his boss to show up and witness their intimate embrace, the pair stood there embracing silently for a long moment and wishing they were doing so much more, wordlessly conveying to one another how much the bond between them mattered and how nothing—no argument, no frustration, no pain, no distance—could ever break the immutable bond that had woven their lives and their hearts together.

When he'd first touched her, Booth had sworn that he'd done so to alleviate the pain and the fear he sensed in his partner, but he now realized that he had also needed that close, tender connection to ground him, to remind him that what they shared was special and worth enduring agonizing heartbreak over and taking risks to protect. As he relished the private moment just to hold her as if nothing else in the world mattered (and knowing that nothing else in the world really did), Booth closed his eyes and willed himself to try to feel what might be going through his partner's mind. He waited, sensing eventually that she had relaxed and calmed down enough for him to try to talk to her.

After planting a chaste kiss in her hair, he pulled up to his full height while keeping his head tilted down toward hers. Had they been in another time and another place, he'd have been unable to help himself from leaning down and crushing her lips with his. But he sensed that Bones needed him to rescue her from both of them in that moment. All he could see now was the wounded woman who'd been crying about him all morning. This was the wrong time and the wrong place to dare to broach the subject that had nearly ripped the two of them apart the first time.

"You okay, Bones?" he heard himself ask in a strange voice. She smiled up at him slightly and nodded to let him know that she was. He reached up and ran a tentative finger along her jawbone, feeling her shudder at the intimate touch. As his phalange reached the tip of her mandible and raised it so that he had the best view of her incredibly beautiful face, Brennan heard Booth speak to her again softly, "You have to trust me, and I have to be honest with you. No more trying to get yourself shot. Not on my watch. Okay, Bones?"

She nodded, unable to stop staring at the planes and angles of his face as if she hadn't long since memorized each and every beautiful one of them.

"You're my partner and my friend. You're more than my partner and my friend. A promise is a promise, Bones. You can't get rid of me," he said so tenderly that it melted what had been left of her heart. She'd rationalized that analogy away as soon as it had entered her mind, but she had to admit that it certainly felt as if her heart had switched from solid to liquid.

She nodded again and felt as much as watched him take a step back from her. "We both need to get back to work," he said quietly, expecting her to want to immerse herself in forensics to calm down and clear her head. A bit surprised that she still wasn't talking, he watched her to see if she were really fine. It appeared that she was.

Expecting her to leave for the lab now that he'd relinquished his hold on her, Booth turned and walked slowly back inside the building to supervise what was left of the takedown. One more minute there, and he'd have left his post and dragged the woman he loved off to beg her to let him love her. He had a job to do, dammit, and he would shoot someone if he couldn't do something normal—and soon.

After watching her partner leave, Brennan turned and walked slowly down the sidewalk and climbed into her car. She took a moment to calm down. Her mind had been a rush of thoughts, feelings, emotions, and fears too numerous for her enormous brain to catalog. She felt woozy, light headed—the effect Booth had on her was mind-altering. She might have crashed her car into something or run over someone had she not noticed the young man in the wheelchair crossing the street. He had been watching the gang's lair as he slipped to his car noticed by nobody but her. Ever curious even after coming so close to blurting out her feelings, Brennan jumped out of her car and walked over and examined his van carefully, noting how it had been outfitted for use by someone with a chair. Memorizing his license plate number and knowing that he'd need time to settle into the vehicle, Brennan continued to walk around the vehicle. She felt compelled to search it carefully and quickly lost herself in doing so. She was so focused on her work and so heedless of the man—few men actually caused her to fear that she might not be able to overtake them—that she didn't notice that the man had rolled his chair over to her and was now threatening her to stop and move away from his automobile. Brennan turned and started asking the man questions, each of which made him increasingly uncomfortable. He got angry and started shouting at her loudly. He reached down and pulled out a weapon just as a wildly angry Booth rounded the corner and disarmed him.

After cuffing the man and calling for agents to take him to FBI headquarters, Booth turned to look at Bones, astounded with her capacity to make him feel all range of emotions and to drag him through all of them in an instant. He was grateful that he'd just felt that Bones had still been there. He'd had no tangible reason to go back out and check on her. Perhaps the saints realized how much he needed for Bones to be safe even if she couldn't stay safely within his arms.

"Go back to the lab now, or I'm calling Mick to drive you there," he said with as much restraint as he could muster given the fact that she'd put herself at risk and at freaking gunpoint twice within an hour.

"But that man was a potential suspect."

"And we'd have gotten to him, Bones. Can you just get the hell back to the lab so that I don't have to worry about where you'll turn next to try to get yourself shot?"

"I am perfectly capable..."

Still I wonder why it is,

Booth held up a hand to silence her, "Stop it right now, Temperance. I'm not arguing with you... not anymore... not today."

"But I..."

I don't argue like this,

After glaring at her for a long moment, Booth turned and yelled over his shoulder, "Mick, I need you to drive Dr. Brennan back to the lab right now!"

"Sure thing, Boss," Mikulski added nervously, nodding to a coworker and asking him to bring his supplies back to the lab.

"Booth, I do not need a babysitter!" Brennan growled at her partner who had begun ignoring her because he refused to let her bait him into another argument.

With anyone but you,

Surprising her, Booth whirled, spun her around, and pinned her against the van as he would have a criminal. Her anger flaring, she stood there humiliated and immobilized as Booth held her firmly against the vehicle while he searched her and found the gun she'd hidden inside her jacket pocket. Brennan kicked herself internally for feeling a bit of regret that hadn't had to search her more thoroughly to find the weapon. She had been so angry that she shouldn't have wanted his body anywhere near hers, but she had. And her embarrassment had been made worse because she thought that she had been the only one affected by the situation. She couldn't tell that Booth's knees had been wobbly and that he'd held his breath as he pressed her body against the van to search her.

We do it all the time,
Blowing out my mind,

Shaking his head, Booth handed the weapon to Mick and informed him that he had his permission to shoot the anthropologist if she drove him anywhere except the lab. Booth would have laughed out loud at the angry expression on his partner's face had he not fully expected her to kick him in the groin if he had.

Giving the woman a wide berth since he fully expected her to be able to disarm him within seconds, Mick slipped the gun into his pocket. It was amusing to watch the nearly unflappable woman pout and storm over to her car. He had to rush to catch up with her, not willing to risk the chance that he might have to face Booth and tell him that she'd gotten away from him.

After a long, silent ride back to the Hoover Building, Brennan parked the car out front so that Mick could get out of the car. He carefully handed the weapon to her and couldn't help noticing that she still looked visibly shaken by the day's events. Uncertain what to say to comfort her and fearing that she might resent any attempt on his part to do so, the man spoke tentatively to her, "I've known Booth for ten years, Dr. Brennan. He refused to work with any partner before you, and I have never seen him look as truly frightened as he did today when he realized that he'd pointed his weapon at you. He may make you angry and what he does might not seem fair or rational, but he does what he does to protect you. He cares for you, too," he trailed off, stopping just short of stating the ridiculously obvious fact that her partner loved her more than life itself.

He'd braced for what he'd expected to be the full wrath of the angry anthropologist, but she appeared to be too exhausted from the day's events to muster the energy he'd expected.

"We're partners," she said as if it were the first time she'd uttered those oft-repeated words, suddenly struck afresh by the significance of the term and the emotional attachment those words encapsulated. She watched as the technician climbed out of the car and paused momentarily to wave at her before heading into the building.

Yet again opting for home rather than returning to her beloved laboratory, Brennan found herself about three glasses deep into a bottle of Booth's favorite wine when her phone rang.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" Angela asked concern evident in her tone.

"I'mmm fine, Ange," Brennan said slowly, trying to hide the tendency of her voice to slur its words just a bit.

"You never came back to the lab. I was just calling to tell you that I turned everything off and told Cam that you were busy at the scene."

"Thanks, Ange," Brennan replied, afraid to say anything else lest she confess her deepest and darkest secrets.

"Booth came by earlier, Sweetie. He looked… I don't know what was going on with him. He was off… distracted. He was also worried that you hadn't come back to the lab. Is something going on, Bren? I'm worried about you."

"There's nothing wrong with me that hasn't been wrong with me since I've known you," Brennan confessed without meaning to say anything. If her friend hadn't been sidetracked by worry, she might have even called her out about that statement. Brennan had just said out loud—albeit indirectly—that what was wrong with her was that she was in love with Booth.

"I don't know what that means," Angela said, struck by the oddity of her making that statement to Brennan when Brennan said that in nearly every conversation.

"I'm fine, Ange. This case… this case is just difficult, that's all."

"So you waited until now to take my advice—glug, glug, woo-hoo?" Angela asked her best friend.

Brennan chuckled at the memory and realized that she would likely have a headache in the morning.

"Why don't I come over with ice cream?" Angela offered.

"No. I'm tired and just want to go to sleep," Brennan implored her.

"Bren, honey, you can't keep hiding things from me... and from Booth."

"I am well aware that ignoring certain feelings has created significant problems," Brennan replied honestly and surprising her friend.

"How many glasses of wine have you had?"

"Three," Brennan confessed as she polished off the last of the glass and poured another.

"Honey, you need to stop drinking and start talking."

"I will... once I find the right words," Brennan said, clicking off the call accidentally. She immediately sent a text message to Angela to ease her worry. "Sorting my thoughts out. Will talk to you soon. Promise."

As she typed that response, her partner's words from earlier that day came rushing back to her, "You're my partner and my friend. You're more than my partner and my friend. A promise is a promise, Bones."

Now I have come to understand,
The way it is,
It's not a secret anymore,
'cause we've been through that before,

Somewhere along the way, she had reached a conclusion. He really was not going to leave her or abandon her as his partner or friend even though she'd given him ample reasons to do both that day alone. But the bigger truth that was shaking Temperance Brennan in that very moment had been that she had to admit that she was unequivocally and irrevocably in love with her partner, and he seemed just as helpless to fight his own feelings. They were driving each other crazier than they had for the previous five years. Ever since Booth had expressed his feelings and she'd lied about hers, they'd begun acting less like partners and less like friends even though they were pretending nothing had changed. Booth had been right. Something had to change—she couldn't continue to take such risks to test his willingness to stay even after she'd broken his heart. Fighting with Booth and keeping him off balance had seemed an ideal way to ignore the emotional connection between them while keeping them engaged and near one another, but she realized now that it would hurt their professional relationship and might—if today were any indication-get one or both of them killed. She felt pure panic when she remembered the way he'd jumped so fast to protect her that afternoon. She realized that she couldn't put him in danger like that anymore.

Temperance also now decided that she had to be the one to do something about the situation. Booth had shown her today that he would not cross that line again. He had been loyal and true and respected her wishes that they remain only partners and friends. He'd wanted to do so much more than hold her that afternoon—his body had told her what his heart had been afraid to utter as he'd held her close. She was going to have to reach out to him somehow—that or run away to a dig so far away that he'd never find her. She scoffed about all the times Booth and others had called her brave. For, at the moment, she felt anything but.

She sat there polishing off the last of the wine and reflecting on the fact that the bickering and fighting she and Booth did constantly was a twisted form of foreplay. No wonder Sweets kept bringing that up with them. With that line Booth had deemed necessary drawn boldly between them, they had both taken turns sparring and warring and dancing and flirting and tap-dancing up to the edge of it. Neither of them wanted or needed that line to be there—not anymore. Admitting how angry Booth had the power to make her had been as hard as admitting how much she loved him. She had read before that there was a thin line between love and hate, and Brennan now understood that expression. She'd allowed herself to get extremely angry with her partner. She'd needed and outlet for her feelings and had found no other viable option for expressing them. Anger had been the only emotion strong and overpowering enough to substitute for the passion and love they each felt for the other.

But now that she'd made him furious, broken his heart, and scarred him for life by showing up in the sights of his weapon, she had no idea to change their course. How does one shift from intense anger to something more positive and hopeful for the future? She'd never had another relationship that brought any of the extreme emotions Booth seemed to pull from her without even trying. She was ill-equipped to manage any of them and confused about what to do next. Still, one thing was no longer confusing—her feelings for her partner had made themselves evident and appeared to be staking a claim to her heart whether her brain argued or not.

From tonight I know that you're the only one,
I've been confused and in the dark,
Now I understand,

Booth figured that it had indeed been a long day—one of the longest he'd ever had. Longer than days he'd been tortured and put through suffering he'd never talked about with anyone. The biggest sign that this had officially been a day for the record books had been the fact that he hadn't even been tempted to call or text or to contact his partner in any way. Sure, she'd had a hellish day. Yes, she probably needed someone to talk to. But it couldn't be him—not today. She'd pushed him to hell and back more than once that day. He'd wanted to deck her, hold her, strangle her, kiss her senseless, kick her ass, and ravish her-each emotion hitting his heart in rapid succession over and over again like a series of blows to the head.

The woman had always driven him crazy, but things had definitely shifted. They were both being reckless. She was doing ridiculously stupid, risky things, and he was losing his cool and yelling at her about his boss in front of his co-workers. Jeez... There had been too much tension, too much fire, too much need... Their partnership had reached the crisis point. Booth had actually been on the verge of telling Bones that he couldn't work with her anymore. He'd hate to take such a radical step, but dammit, she'd almost made him shoot her!

I wonder why it is,
I don't argue like this,
With anyone but you,

How was he supposed to forget the sheer dread he'd felt when he'd seen her at the end of his own weapon? He saw her from that vantage point every time he closed his eyes. How was he supposed to sleep knowing that she could be dead and that it would have been his fault? Did she have any idea the way that his fear about what could have happened paralyzed him mind, body, and soul?

He had been so wound up and overwrought that he couldn't imagine even talking with her about dissolving their partnership. With the stakes that high, the argument that would ensue would be catastrophic, and he didn't have the energy to say "hello" much less "it's been really nice working with you." Bones had simply drained the fight out of him. Nobody else had ever riled him up the way that she did. And the fact that she could rid him of that anger just as quickly terrified him. While he'd found fighting with her to be more than a turn on too many occasions (including today), they'd reached their limit or something. They'd crossed some kind of line.

That was it, he realized. That night as they had stood in their trench coats like Bogey and Bergman in Casablanca after leaving Sweets' office, Booth had stepped over the line he'd drawn for them, and there had been no going back. He'd smudged the remnants of the division away. Now when he and Bones fought, there was more at stake than just peace and quiet and getting one's own way. Without that stark line keeping them at a safer distance, they could now wound one another more deeply, push one another farther, and wreak havoc on their hearts and their very souls.

He'd thought that he'd be able to hold back and keep a safe distance from her as they continued to work together-to restrain himself for both their sakes, but now he knew better. In fact, he'd always known better. Bones had always been and still was the only person who could really harm him, and she had been proving it by ripping right through every façade he tried to put up. Some took more time than others, but she saw right through him—right to the very core of him—to the heart that beat only for her. As strong and brave and capable as he was, he was most powerless to defend her from him and utterly unable to begin to try to defend himself from her.

I wonder why it is,
I won't let my guard down,
For anyone but you
We do it all the time,
Blowing out my mind,

If she hadn't finally pushed him too far away, Temperance knew that she needed to find a way to spend some time with her partner so that they could talk. Knowing Booth the way she did, she expected him to keep her away from him for a while—to get no closer to her than a text message without a room full of people around. He'd avoid her and keep her at a distance so that both of them could get some much-needed perspective and so that he could put up barriers to keep her from undermining his plans to pretend that nothing between them had changed.

Because he was so much like her in some very important ways, she understood that he needed some time to regain his balance and his sense of control. She'd taken both away from him today while trying to regain her own. She knew that he'd need some time before he'd even allow her to have a chance to talk to him, but she was determined that, after giving him some time, she'd talk to him and tell him how she truly felt. She was terrified that he might say that it was too late—that she'd missed her chance or pushed him too hard. But she had to try. She owed him the honesty of showing him her true emotions. She owed him so much more.

She loved him with all of her heart—and with her enormous brain... and deep down in her bones.

Just like a star across my sky,
Just like an angel off the page,
You have appeared to my life,
Feel like I'll never be the same,

Booth sat staring at the muted television screen trying to pretend that after working out, eating well and showering he had washed the day's events away. He smirked and shook his head as he sat there alone—frustrated by the way that his mind would not stop its analysis of everything that had happened with his partner recently. His gut was mocking him—telling him that today had been proof that trying to pretend that he could just work with his partner and be a supportive friend for her the way he'd done for five years was now futile. Despite his best efforts, other people could now see his feelings for his partner as clearly as if they'd been there listening that night he'd pled with Bones to give things between them a chance. Perhaps she was buying the act because she had been even more terrified of losing him than he was of losing her, but Mick had seen it, Cam had been able to tell, and Angela seemed convinced that she knew his feelings for his Bones. Hell, even Parker could see through him. Some secretive federal agent he was.

As aggravating as the situation had become, it didn't stop Booth from being bombarded by thoughts other than lust and anger when he let his mind wander back through the events of the day. He sighed remembering the tears brimming in Bones' eyes when they'd been talking outside by the SUV. One tear spilling from her eyes because of him was too many. He was as unable to distance himself from her when she cried as he was to stop breathing of his own volition. He couldn't shower away the stresses of the day or rid himself of the fear he'd felt for her safety. Bones was so firmly immersed in his life and his heart and his feelings and his work that he couldn't escape her or stop thinking of her.

He smiled again sadly and relaxed as he let thoughts of her wash over him. Hell, he was going to give up that battle, too. Trying to get over Bones just wasn't possible. So he determined to do his best to be her friend and partner who suffered silently but sometimes didn't even pretend that he didn't still love her—all the while making peace with the fact that he'd never be able to stop doing so.

Just like a song in my heart,
Just like oil on my hands

He loved her. It really was that simple. Loving her was just part of who he was.

Lyrics from Like a Star by Corinne Bailey Rae