A/N – A few things – one, really appreciate the reviews and PM's of support. They keep me updating. But some of the PMs have just gotten mean. I'll say again, I know this isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea. Feel free to just pass on by if it isn't your style.

Also, this is where it turns from uncomfortable to bad. It will go from bad to worse. It will go from worse to explosive, and then, if you are still with me, you can watch us try and put it back together. There will be some tension, some anxiety, and some violence. I swear, nothing graphic – not my style. I really hope at least some of you come along for the whole journey. – Kalli

Brennan was comfortable in leggings and a t-shirt when she heard the knock on her door. From the volume of the knock, she guessed she missed the first round of knocking completely while lost in writing. She reached the door and checked the peep hole, pausing when she saw McGowan on the other side. His hands were full and his clothes were casual, and he knew she was there because he started speaking to her through the door.

"Tempe, I'm sorry." She didn't respond. "I get it. You're annoyed at me, but it was an accident." The silence continued, but Brennan was conflicted, and her finger tips came to rest on the door chain, deliberating what to do. "I know you're there, Temperance. I come baring gifts."

She opened the door but left the chain on.

"The ancient Calcedonians had a tradition of tantope, which involved the practice of making amends to people of high social status with gifts of sustenance."

"Tantope," she said, correcting his pronunciation, "also involves the practice of ritual sacrifice." She gave no indication that she was swayed, although he he'd clearly gone through some trouble to apologize.

"True, of course," he admitted with charming eyes, "but you are a vegetarian, and tantope made me think of cantaloupe if you pronounce it wrong, like I did, and so I have Italian food where chicken was sacrificed for my meal, I have eggplant parmesan for you, and I carry a cantaloupe that I will happily sacrifice in your honor."

"To make amends?"

"Exactly. Amends."

Let him down easy.

Was letting him down easy the same as leading him on? Easy wasn't her style. Painfully honest was her style. She assumed that leaving him standing in the doorway with dinner and refusing to open the door probably wasn't the 'easy' that Booth was looking for.

So she unhooked the chain, but only opened the door eighteen inches. He balanced a stack of files, a bag of take-out, a bottle of wine, and a cantaloupe, and he made a little pout with his lips for good measure.

"I appreciate the chicken and cantaloupe sacrifice, Danny, but I told you I have a deadline with the book and I need to write tonight."

"Look – I brought files," he said trying to show them to her without dropping anything. "I have paperwork to do. We can eat, and work." His expression got sad. "I'm sorry, Temperance. Really. Let me make it up to you."

She didn't want him to make it up to her. She had already deduced that there was no real connection between them – Angela would say no spark, but she doubted the kindness of her approach in that moment, and as she watched McGowan stand there with expectation and remorse, she opened the door the rest of the way and let him in.

She'd worked through lunch and was hungrier than she realized. They unpacked the food and poured the wine. The take out was from a small family style Italian place she had never tried before, but would certainly try again. He talked about his current cases, and she talked about a set of ancient remains she was working to corroborate findings from the British Museum as a professional courtesy. She didn't talk about her current case with Booth. Didn't talk about Booth at all. What was between them was theirs.

She retreated to a comfy arm chair, her legs crossed and her laptop balanced in her lap and continued working through the outline for the fourth book. It was still at a high level, but key parts of the plot, science, and character development needed to be laid out and given some context for the kickoff with her publisher coming up around the corner. She was about to sign a new contract, and wanted things squared away. She wasn't behind, but also wasn't where she wanted to be.

But she found it difficult to write while Danny was there. She snuck a peek at him working at the dining room table. He'd spread out his files and made himself at home, but her mind likened him to an invader in her space. She couldn't let down her guard and really work through the outline.

It wasn't too long after they started working that he started getting chatty. A question here. A question there. He was trying to engage her when she didn't want to be engaged. She suggested calling it a night at least twice before he started asking about the book.

"So how goes the writing?

"Just an outline for now, but it's coming along," she responded, noncommittally.

"Any big secrets you can share?"

"I don't really do that. I write it first before I let people see it."

A few moments passed. She'd stolen enough looks at what he was doing at the table that she started to think he wasn't really doing anything. Then she realized she had left her phone on the table, and it was in his hand. He saw her notice it.

"Sorry, thought it was mine for a second when I grabbed it. Expecting a call?"

"No," she said and watched him until he put it down.

Silence.

"I've read the first two books, you know?" He tried again.

"As an agent I hope you found the investigations intriguing. Believable."

"The crime stuff was realistic. I'm sure the science stuff is realistic. Not sure about the Kathy and Andy stuff."

She didn't ask for clarification. She wasn't interested in his opinion on it, but he had more to say.

"Seems like maybe the science and the crime fighting comes easy, but maybe connecting with people isn't really what you're good at."

Her eyes shot up to his, angry. She wanted him out of her space.

"I think it's time for you to go, Daniel," Brennan said calmly.

"No – let me see the outline." It was conversational and energetic, but she didn't trust his tone.

"No – you haven't read the third book, so the outline for the fourth wouldn't make sense. Also, I don't let people see it in advance. It isn't my writing process."

"Well adjust your process," he challenged her.

"No." She didn't like her position. She was sitting in the chair and he was inching closer to her as he spoke.

"Come on. I want to see the outline."

"McGowan, what's your problem?"

"Well, my girlfriend is here writing a sex scene about her partner, so let me think what could possibly be wrong."

"Ok, first of all, I'm not your girlfriend. Second of all I'm working on an outline for the whole book, not writing any scene much less a sex scene, and third – Booth is not Agent Lister."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Daniel, you need to go."

"Let me read it," he demanded.

"Absolutely not."

"Let me see it, Temperance."

"No"

"I won't ask again."

"Leave."

As he got within striking range she closed the laptop, making it impossible for him to see. She stood up, meeting his absurd demands head on, but once on her feet she froze, tension growing in every muscle. She had a sinking feeling that she was outmatched and needed to proceed with caution, and striking first would be an escalation that might complicate many things. She spread her stance the slightest amount to be ready.

His anger radiated off of him, and she could feel adrenaline moving through her.

"We could use a little less Booth and a little more of you and me when we're together," he hissed at her.

He grabbed the laptop from out of her hand, and threw it against the hearth. Brennan flinched as it hit the bricks, hearing the shell shatter and the echo of small pieces bouncing across the hardwood floor.

"You and I are not together and you brought up Booth, not me," she clarified.

He leaned close, never touching her, his mouth at her ear. His words were deliberate, slow and menacing.

"We are together if I say we are," he spit, and then released her.

She was disturbed to her core by his assertion. She was ready to defend herself, but she wasn't ready to start a physical altercation if he hadn't touched her. Her words met his resolve.

"Get out."

"Do not talk to Booth about me. I don't want you talking to him at all."

This discussion had become the theater of the absurd. Brennan didn't understand his request or his sudden level of anger. She'd given him no indication that they were a couple. She'd done no pursuing, had deflected all physical advances. Everything in her wanted to yell at him but she just stood her ground.

He gathered his files and headed for the door.

She followed his path once the door closed, securing the deadbolt and the chain. She threw out the packaging for the food and poured out the rest of the wine that he opened. She even tossed the cantaloupe, wanting nothing of McGowan's in her space. Then she took a hot shower and resolved to talk to Booth in the morning.