Thank you all so much for the reviews!! If there's anything you think I need to work on, or is out of character for them, please let me know, I don't take offense easy, so be as brutal as you need to.

This oneshot is a little more emotional, and takes place in the barn, while McVicar is talking about Brennan's parents.

Hope you enjoy!!

(warning for a bit of mild language on this one)

Booth alternated between glaring at McVicar, and looking at his partner with barely concealed concern. The seedy, predatory man kept spilling his crock of shit, looking so incredibly contrite that it set his teeth on edge. Booth didn't believe a word this bastard was saying, not with the pleased gleam in his eyes, and murders behind his belt. But just hearing it was taking Bones apart, dismantling her carefully constructed foundation. It didn't matter if her mother was having an affair with McVicar or not, or if her father had attacked them. Everything was wrong to her. There was doubt. Facts that had been indisputably true were thrown into shadow.

She wasn't just Dr. Temperance Brennan anymore.

Then that son of a bitch looked her straight in the eye and put the final nail in the coffin.

"Your father's a hard man, Joy."

She tossed her head a little bit, as if trying to shed the unwanted label. "My name is Brennan. I'm Dr.-" Her voice trembled a bit, and she expelled a breath shakily. "I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan."

McVicar just looked at her, the side of his mouth twisting up into an ugly smirk, as his eyes glinted with satisfaction. All Booth wanted to do was plant one right in his cheek, maybe send that fucker flying into the pigsty with all the rotten food and shit, exactly where he belonged. Jaw tight, he glared at the farmer, highly considering doing just that. But then he heard the shuddering breath his partner was taking, and knew he couldn't. Scoffing, McVicar shook his head and brushed past them, leaving the barn.

"I work at the Jeffersonian Institution," Bones was reciting to herself desperately in a thin, tremulous voice. "I'm a Forensic Anthropologist. I specialize in identif-"

Her voice cracked, and the rest of her sentence hung unfinished in the empty air. Booth saw with horror as her shoulders seemed to crumple in on herself, and he was forced to watch as his partner, the strongest person he knew, fell to pieces.

Then she set her shoulders, determined in a way he recognized, but she remained hunched over, as if the words McVicar had spouted had pierced her heart. When she started speaking, her words were fragile and unsure, as if saying them would somehow make them more true.

"-in identifying people when nobody knows who they are. My father was a science teacher. My mother was a bookkeeper-"

Her voice wobbled then broke. Booth moved towards her a step, hands reaching to touch, but hovering just out of reach, as if she would shatter into a thousand pieces if she was disturbed.

"My brother-" she shuddered on a sob, as the foundation of her world crashed around her. "I have a brother."

He stepped even closer and saw the tears that began to slide down her cheeks in earnest. Her eyes were destroyed and filled with anguish, even as her brain tried to close the gaps, to make everything the same again.

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan-"

At this, he reached out and snagged her elbow delicately. "Hey," he said, his voice impossibly soft. "I know who you are."

Head snapping around, she stared at him, beautiful blue eyes glassy with tears, before her face crumpled and she fell into him, beginning to sob great shuddering breaths, helpless to do anything but cling at his shirt as she turned her face into his neck.

Booth wrapped his arms around his partner securely, pressing his palm against her shoulder blades while the other circled her waist, helping to support her weight as she broke down against him.

He whispered platitudes against her ear, empty words that still meant the world, hopeful promises that he intended to keep.

It's okay.

You'll be alright.

I've got you.

I'm not leaving.

Thumbs circled soothingly against her jacket as his palm rubbed her spine, pressing her as close as she could get. He pressed his cheek against her shiny auburn hair, breathing in her scent as he began to rock her slightly in his arms. Her body shook with the force of her desperate sobs, and it was clear that all she could do was clutch at his shirt with fingers turned talons as she soaked his neck with tears.

Booth didn't know how long they stood there, his partner clinging to him as if he were her last line to her old life, where everything made sense and she was still Dr. Temperance Brennan. He never let her go, tracing reassuring patterns on the side of her waist, firmly stroking the length of her spine, or running his hand through her hair. Whispering sweet nothings to her, occasionally he would press a kiss to the side of her head, then rest his head against hers as his eyes closed. It was a caring moment.

He hated it.

Hated the way her whole body trembled like a leaf in the wind. Hated the tears that dried salty and stiff against his skin. Hated the way she had to lean into his body in order to stay upright. Hated the way she gripped his shirt, her knuckles white, as if she was afraid that he was going to leave her too, turn out to be someone she didn't know. But most of all, he hated that she felt this way. That she was so confused and upset and (not broken, never ever broken) torn apart that she needed him. Because she never needed him. Not like this.

And so he would continue to hold her, even as his heart ached, as it told him to level cities and burn the world to the ground if it would make her smile again. Because she was his,his partner. His to protect, to help, and to hold up when things went wrong, though he never imagined things going quite this wrong. Bones would call it his "alpha-male instincts" or something like that, insisting he helped and protected who he perceived to be in need.

That would be wrong.

Because Booth would help those in need, it was part of the reason he joined the FBI, but he would never become so fiercely protective unless they were his. And Bones was, even if she would protest. She was his just like the rest of the squint squad was. Somehow they had wormed their way in, and all of a sudden they weren't just squints anymore, they were his squints.

So he held his partner in the secure embrace of his arms until her sobs had subsided into little hiccuping cries, softer, but no less heartbreaking. Gently tucking her hair behind her ear, Booth turned his neck and spoke softly to her, still running his hand up and down her back.

"Hey," he said lowly, soothingly. "I know who you are, okay? You're Bones."

The only response was a little gasping breath against his neck, but he just rubbed his thumb against her waist comfortingly.

"Bones, my Bones," he said, pressing a kiss to her hair fondly, breathing in the smell of cloves and vanilla.

"You're my beautiful, sexy scientist. The one who pulls answers from the places I wouldn't know to look. You give a voice to the dead, and help lay them to rest."

He slid his hand up to cup the back of her neck, continuing in a gentle tone, but one that brooked no disagreements.

"You're smart, too smart sometimes. You are kind, and careful, and incredibly stubborn, and not so patient. You're a good friend to Angela, and an incredible mentor to Zack; he looks up to you a lot you know? Hodgins cares for you in his own way, and to me? Well, you're my partner, Bones. And that means that I'm here for you, no matter what. I'm here to tell you that I know you Bones."

Withdrawing from her a little bit, he cupped her face in his hands and tilted it up to see her, her hands still tangled in his shirt. Her eyes met his, still too red, too swollen, and covered in a film of tears, but still beautiful because they were hers. Tenderly, he swiped at the tears rolling down her cheek with his thumb.

"You're good with kids, even if you say you aren't, because you're honest with them, and they like that. You tell me the truth, even if it's not what I want to hear. You write bestselling novels, and love coffee, and hate fruit pie. You always want to drive, even if I always say no, because Bones, you driving me around is a terrifying thought. You bicker with me, and I love it, because I don't think people argue with you enough, and you always have the most fascinating opinions. You like fries, and Thai food, and being right, which you usually are. Your favorite flowers are daffodils and daisies, and you hate red roses."

Her breathing hitched, and she closed her eyes again, her cheeks damp with tears that wouldn't stop. Her partner pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, gently rubbing away the evidence of her distress with his thumbs.

"I know you Bones," he whispered against her skin. "And this doesn't change who you are, only who you think you are."

She shook her head within his grasp, only a wetly broken "No," escaping her mouth.

He leaned his forehead against her own as her hands came up to wrap around his wrists, just holding him close to her.

"You're strong," he said quietly. "The strongest person I know."

Pulling back, he brushed the lightest kiss against her right eyelid, tasting the salt of her sorrow that clumped her wet eyelashes together, hoping she could feel how much he cared. Her body shook and she tightened her grip on his wrists.

"You're brave."

Dipping his head, he did the same to her left eyelid, delicate and sweet, just the gentle pressure of lips against her skin, to ground her, to try and show her who she was. Bones, his partner, his Bones.

"You always want to get justice for the victims, no matter who they are. I admire that."

He kissed her forehead again, holding her firmly against him as all she did was breathe raggedly. She was his, and she needed to know.

"You care."

Lips caressed the sensitive space just below her right eye, interrupting the track of tears that still flowed.

"You're beautiful."

He switched to the other side of her face, feeling the slide of her eyelashes against his face, the wetness of her skin beneath his lips as he cradled her face.

"You're independent."

Skimming the bridge of her nose with his mouth, he swiped the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks again, clearing away the tears as he breathed with her, holding her head as he would any cherished possession.

"You're argumentative."

Turning her face in his hands, he placed a sweet kiss on her cheek, letting his lips linger a moment as a tiny smile turned the corners of his mouth.

"And terribly stubborn."

Watching her, he smiled a little wider, letting his thumb track affectionately over her skin as the corner of her lips twitched a little in the semblance of a smile. He kissed her other cheek, luxuriating in the feel of her. As he drew back, she inhaled sharply, a little gasping breath, and turned her head to face him, inadvertently causing their lips to graze against each other.

Booth froze, wide eyed, inches away from her mouth as they shared the same air. His partner's hands flexed around his wrists, and she tilted her face up towards him. Eyes opening hesitantly, she gazed at him desperately.

"Booth," her voice was hoarse and timid. "Please."

He searched her eyes, then he understood.

This wasn't about them. She needed something to ground herself, to take her away from the mess that had become her life. Something simple and innocent and easy to understand. And she trusted him to give that to her. He wouldn't abandon her now.

So he leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against her own. She let out a shuddering sigh, and tipped towards him even further. Deepening the kiss slightly, all he could taste, smell, and see was Bones. His Bones. She was warm and soft in his arms, her hair silky against his fingers, and for right now she was only his. He kept the kiss soft, slanting his lips across hers with tenderness, even as sparks rattled through his ribcage. It felt like forever, but after what must have been only a few moments, he pulled back, scanning her face.

She was still tilted up to his face, as if awaiting his next kiss. Her muscles had gone lax, free from the tension that had furrowed her brows and twisted her lips. A single teardrop rolled from her closed eyes, cresting the ridge of her cheekbone. Gently, he kissed it off of her face, pressing one more affectionate kiss against her temple before he wrapped his arms around her, and enveloped her in a hug. Her arms twined around his neck, and he rubbed her back firmly.

"You're my Bones, okay?" He could feel his partner take a deep breath against him. "And that's all you need to be, no one else, alright?"

She tucked her face into his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. When she spoke, he could feel her eyelids fluttering against his skin, and the movement of her lips against him, her voice fragile, but insistent.

"I'm not your Bones."

Her partner chuckled fondly, squeezing her slightly. "Sure you're not. C'mon, I wanna go get you some food."

He waited until she unwound her arms from his neck and took a step back before he let go of her. And even then, he walked a step closer to her than normal, his arm circling her waist, hand resting possessively over her hip instead of guiding from her back.

"'M not hungry," she said, not acknowledging how close they were, but leaning even further into his personal space.

"Well then we'll get some coffee or something. God knows I could use some pie."

"Okay," she acquiesced, laying her head against his solid shoulder.

Kissing the top of her head quickly, Booth tightened his grip on her. She wasn't okay yet, not by a long shot, but she would be. He would make sure of it.