Author's Note: Thanks for your patience everybody. I rewrote this chapter a few times before I could get something I was happy with. It might be a little out of character and I know it's short compared to the last chapter, but I think you'll enjoy it all the same. Just consider this The Confrontation part one.

Disclaimer: I own this story and nothing else. No copyright infringement intended. Last but not least, don't steal.

"Do you think it's possible for men and women to be friends?"

The question was met with a calculating gaze, Booth fidgeting with his tie.

"Thank you, Angela…" he muttered under his breath. "Why'd you make her watch that movie?"

I looked at him, waiting for his response. Should I be unsettled that he can't give an immediate answer? One would think he would know.

"Of course. We're friends, Bones," he said finally.

"Okay, but why?"

"Why are we friends?" he asked for clarification sake. "Does there have to be a reason?"

"Yes. There usually is. Harry Burns says we can't be, so, if we are, there has to be a good reason."

Booth looked down at his plate, then back up at me, pushing his meal aside.

"You're putting me on the spot here," he said.

"It shouldn't be that hard, Booth. Just tell me why you're friends with me," I persisted. "Is it because you have something to gain? Is it for your own pleasure? Do we share Aristotle's idea of mutual goodness?"

Booth sighed. "Listen, I don't understand all that, but I don't think like you do anyway. Way simpler. Some people are friends because they share a common interest. You like Foreigner, I like Foreigner—Friends. You like French fries, I like French fries—Friends. You solve murders, I catch bad guys—Friends."

"You're friends with me because I like French fries?" I asked, my brow furrowed, confused.

"No!" he stressed. "Well, yes, but that's not exactly our defining trait. We're also friends because we enjoy each other's company. We do a lot together, like this, or drinks and takeout."

"We don't do that as much anymore," I reminded him, and he averted his eyes. "Does that mean we're not friends anymore?"

"Even friends have their rough patches, Bones. There's no perfect relationship…"

"Even you and Hannah?" I asked, but he didn't respond.

I thought about this. If there is no such thing as a perfect relationship, why does anyone bother? What are they all looking for and how do they know when they've found it? It made me think of what I'd just read in Kevin's journal. He'd found what he'd been looking for and look at the pain it caused him. Somehow, he recognized that it'd never be perfect and he felt as though it was his fault.

It was quiet for awhile and it clearly made Booth uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, continuing to play with his tie. "I guess what I should have said was, it's not always perfect. But other times—"

"There's no such thing as perfect anyway," I said, dismissing him. I don't know why I said it, but it was out there now.

"I don't know what you want to hear. You asked and I answered." Booth said, frustrated now. "And don't tell me there's no such thing as perfection, Bones, because you try so exhaustingly hard to attain it, in yourself and in your work. So hard that the fundamentals, like social graces, friendships, and what makes them work, are mere blips on your radar. You said it yourself. You're the scientist. You can't change."

I recoiled, as if he had slapped me in the face, and I tried my hardest not to actually strike him. "Don't you dare turn that around on me, Booth!" I snarled, leaning in closer. "You want me to change so badly? Funny, it's the first time you've ever asked. I came to you about this friendship thing because I knew I could count on you for the truth, not so you could, metaphorically speaking, lay all of my weaknesses out on the table. I asked you because I recognize that there might be things that you know that I just don't. Don't let it get to your head. You want me to change, so make me understand!"

"You want the truth? Harry Burns is a fictional man. Fiction! The crap that comes out of his mouth is just that, crap. I never thought of you as the gullible type, Bones. Men and women can be friends. Yes, sometimes the love part gets changes the dynamic, but sometimes it doesn't."

He quieted then, and I knew he was talking about us now.

"Real friends know each other better than they know themselves, whether they realize it or not. They're around when you need them, and even when you don't, when you'd rather not have anything to do with them. They're the little voice in your head telling you not to do the stupid thing you're about to do, and most of the time you actually listen…"

"You're hearing voices…" I said, concerned, thinking back to when he conversed with Stewie in the interrogation room.

"Bones," he whined. "You know that's not what I mean. Just let me finish." I didn't know what he meant, but I allowed him to continue anyway.

"Friends also argue with each other. Over big things, but sometimes over nothing. Sometimes they pick silly fights just to get the other riled up. Sometimes it's actually fun. That's the important thing. They have fun together. They laugh often and have fun without even trying. They share in each other's joys and misfortunes. Other times, you can't imagine how they're feeling. Friendship involves some acting too. Sometimes you fake it. Sometimes you use little white lies to spare feelings and show support. That's supposed to be a secret act, but I'll let you in on that one for future reference. No one said it was easy, but once you find all of that in another person, you just know."

I didn't know what to say or how to feel. I was overwhelmed, not only with the amount of information I'd been provided, but with the string of truth I knew was attached to every word. Booth has told me he loved me, more than once, but, until now, he couldn't even tell me why. I believe he just did that now.

I stood to leave, doing what I do best. I needed some time to myself now. Booth had driven us here, but I could just as well walk back to the Jeffersonian. Maybe, if I could just put this case to rest, I'd find some clarity, some peace of mind. Booth stood to stop me, but I shook my head. I plucked the diary from my bag and placed it on the table along with a few dollars for my share of the meal.

"I haven't gotten all the way through it, but take a look, see if you can find anything useful. Then hand it off to Sweets," I instructed before stalking to the door and heading in the direction of the lab, leaving Booth standing at the table, alone and very much perplexed.