A Genoese Sauce. A beloved intern's life cut short. Booth and Brennan individually reflect on the changes in their relationship within just twenty-four hours. Both afraid that the other will halt their journey on a new path. Takes place during the second half of The Hole in the Heart.

Chapter One

Seeley J. Booth is a liar. Not just any old liar, but a fucking liar. He lied to his friends, lied to his family, and he lied to himself. But worst of all, he lied to the woman he loved; the woman with whom he wanted to spend the next 30, 40, 50 years.

"I love you... in a professional... atta-girl kind of way."

"Serious as a heart attack."

"I love Hannah. She's not a consolation prize."

Three times he denied his feelings to Brennan; three times he lied for the selfish reason of protecting his pride. And like Saint Peter, Booth was healed by tears, except in his case, the tears shed were Brennan's and not his. Instead of begging for forgiveness, he consoled the weeping which, if one thought about it, was the perfect way for him to seek forgiveness from the strong woman he loved. Now, after last night, there was no way he was going to allow himself to screw-up whatever was happening between the two of them. To do so would almost seem blasphemous.

Replaying all the events that led up to what happened in the tear-stained darkness of this morning, Booth stared out his office window without noticing the view before him.

"He said, 'Don't make me leave.'"

"No, no, no, no Bones. You've got it all wrong. He wasn't talkin' to you..."

"Can I just..."

"Yeah, sure. That's what I'm here for."

Booth remained still, sitting on the edge of his desk as he contemplated the fragility of the thread called life. He realised that what brought Brennan and him together were their individual threads, twining as one.

After some time sobbing on his chest, Brennan finally stilled. A few moments later, her head shot up. She glanced at Booth's face before speaking in a raspy voice, "It was happenstance that Vincent was shot. It could have been any of us on that platform. I could have been that person. Or, it could have been... you." The last word dragged out of her mouth as if some unseen force yanked the word from her mouth. As she looked at Booth, her lips screwed-up as if to stop them from saying anything more distressing. Finally, she relaxed her lips and dropped her eyes from his before asking, "Why Booth? How can I feel such immense sadness at Vincent's death but when I think that we were spared, that the bullet missed you, I feel something akin to relief, or even happiness? How can that be? What does that say about me?"

Booth sat up and leaned against his bed's headboard, pulling Brennan with him. His hand gently brushed the hair from her face as he murmured, "Shhh, it just says you are normal." His hand stroked her wet cheeks and eyes with a gentle touch. "You're allowed to feel happy that you are alive and you can still feel sad Vincent died. One emotion doesn't cancel out the other, Temperance."

As soon as her name left his lips, he heard Brennan's breath hitch. Immediately, she sat up and leaned away from him as she looked in his direction in the darkened room. She shook her head and whispered, "Not me, Booth, you. I am very glad the bullet missed you. If Brodsky's bullet hit me instead and I died, I would no longer feel or be aware of anything. But," she whimpered, "if you died, then I would feel that loss immensely. I would rather be the one dead than you." Brennan then leaned forward towards Booth until she buried her head against his neck, her arms immediately wrapping around him as Booth embraced her in response.

"C'mon Bones," he pleaded, "don't say that, don't put that out there. I'm just some average guy, but you're the genius and the world would be worse off without you in it." Booth held Brennan tighter against him and leaned his head against hers. "Somehow, for some reason, we're both alive. We can celebrate that fact and not take away from our grief." Booth paused as his hand stroked down her back. "Survivor's guilt, I know all about it, but what helps is talking about it and knowing that nothing that happened is your fault."

"Nor yours, Booth. Like I said earlier, you did what you could." Brennan murmured against his neck. Booth responded by holding her tighter against him and whispered, "I know, Bones. I know."

After a few minutes, Brennan slowly lifted her head off Booth's shoulder, causing Booth to move his off hers. Once free, she sat on her knees and, with her head lowered, she released a shuddering breath. Booth watched as she raised her head, leaned towards him, and gently placed her hand over his heart. Her fingers stroked the fabric of his t-shirt before stilling. Her hand pressed harder against his chest and he could tell that she was feeling his heartbeat.

However after less than a minute, Brennan's hand lifted off his torso as she pulled up the hem of his t-shirt with the other. She quickly shoved her hand under his shirt and placed it back to its previous position, only this time there was no cloth barrier between her hand and his chest. Booth reached up under his shirt and put his hand over hers, as if he wanted to feel his heartbeat through her.

Eyes locked with Brennan's, his breath began so slow down. In and out. In and out. This was the same technique he used to calm himself in times of stress or uncertainty. Not sure who moved first or last, the only thing Booth was soon aware of was an explosion of emotions. Relief, love, fear, and yes, desire all flooded through him as Brennan's lips pressed against his. Soon, all that he felt was urgency as Brennan's mouth shifted and her tongue met his. Booth knew at that moment that whatever emotional walls that stood between them crumbled the instant Brodsky's bullet shattered the glass at the Jeffersonian and pierced the heart of Brennan's fact-loving intern.

"You stupid piece of shit! Just print for once!" Right after that shout, a series of hard thumps echoed throughout the entire fourth floor of the Hoover building. The jarring noise had Booth quickly turning his head towards the bullpen. He saw through the glass of his office door that an agent was kicking the huge communal printer. The portly man moved with a vigour he never saw the agent take even when apprehending suspects. As soon as he saw a junior agent run up to the printer to show the frustrated man where to punch in the print code, Booth turned his head to resume looking out his window.

However, his phone rang, delaying his contemplation. Booth immediately grabbed the mobile off his desk. He answered the call without looking at the caller ID, knowing who it would be on the other end.

"Yeah, Bones", he answered, his voice a little loud to his ears.

"There is nothing new yet. I am still re-examining Schlessinger's skull. I am just calling to let you know that Cam has arranged for us to say goodbye to Vincent's remains before they are transported from the Jeffersonian back to the UK." A pause and a breath. "While I do not think this will accomplish anything since Vincent is dead and can longer hear us, I am... I... I think..." Brennan's voice trailed off on the line.

"It's okay, Bones. I understand. He was your intern and you just want to pay your respects. It means something to you, to say goodbye. Doesn't matter if Vincent can hear you or not." Booth responded in a low voice and took a deep breath before continuing. "What time do you need me there?"

"Seven. Cam said to be there at seven." Booth heard clacking over the phone, as if Brennan were typing on a keyboard. "I have a few errands to run later. I might be a few minutes late."

"Sure, Bones. I'll be there at seven." Pulling his poker chip out of his left pocket, Booth began twiddling the talisman between his fingers.

"Booth?" The clacking on the line slowed to a stop.

"Yeah?" He responded, his hand now motionless but still holding the chip.

"I am exceedingly worried for you. Don't take any unnecessary risks today." Silence on the other end.

"I won't." He shoved the chip back into his pocket.

"Good." The clacking resumed before Booth heard the beep indicating that the call had ended.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To be continued...

[Just a little note to thank everyone who read my other two stories, The Apple in the Strudel and The Gelato in the Expresso! I appreciate every review, follow, and favourite! Also, noticed after I posted this initially that FF deleted words and phrases. So hopefully this version reads better with no missing words! Lesson learned, no copy and paste! :P ]