I had incredibly mixed feelings on the episode. It wasn't until I'd watched it again that I realized how amazing it was. Definitely a new twist, and hopefully a fresh start to the rest of the season.

Oh, and Emily is just the most amazing actress ever. Period.

Disclaimer: Bones is not mine.

That Place They Had

They pull up to a slow stop in front of the Jeffersonian, and Brennan closes her eyes for a moment. For a second, she just breathes, breathes and pushes away everything else.

"Bones?" Booth asks softly, hesitantly.

She opens her eyes and unclips the seatbelt hurriedly, opening the car door. "I'm fine. Thank you."

She can feel his eyes on her as she slips out of the car and starts toward the Jeffersonian's doors. Once, she might have turned around and given him a smile, a wave. But not tonight. Tonight, she doesn't think she can handle that searing look in his eyes. Tonight, Booth—careful, polite, thoughtful Booth, so kind even as he rejected her—is so much more than she can handle. She doesn't look back at him because if she does, she's sure she'll break what little there is left to break.

Instead, she pushes those emotions away and tries to remember if she'd left her case files on her desk or stored them away. If she remembers correctly, there is a new set of remains in from Arizona that she'd been interested in studying. And if it hasn't been catalogued yet, she can always lose herself in Limbo. There are always enough bones to make her forget.

She hears a car door slam behind her and stops, closing her eyes. Sharp footsteps echo against the pavement, and she breathes deeply through her nose, wondering if she can handle this. Wondering why he won't leave her alone and why it makes her secretly relieved that he still cares enough to come after her.

"Hang on a sec, Bones," he says. His tone is light, but even she can tell it's forced. He reaches her side and motions toward the doors. "I'll walk you inside."

Walk. Yes, she can handle that. Without answering him, she starts toward the steps and watches him out of the corner of her eye. She's glad when he doesn't say anything more because she doesn't trust herself to talk right now. She's afraid that if she opens her mouth, tears will come out instead of words.

They reach the doors, and she stares into the dark hallway beyond instead of turning to meet his eyes. She can feel his gaze on her, gauging her, studying her. For what? What does he see? A slightly wild-eyed, bedraggled, damp-haired woman who's broken, finally? Or just another broken heart like his? Maybe, she thinks, looking at his barely-visible reflection in the glass doors, maybe they aren't so different after all.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "I'll be fine."

He doesn't move. After a moment, he says, "Don't stay late, Bones. You should get cleaned up. You're going to get sick like that."

She shakes her head and opens the door. "I'll be fine."

She lets the door close behind her, and some of the ache in her heart eases at the sight of the Jeffersonian's familiar walls. She has always been able to lose herself here when she needs to just forget. After her mother's discovery, after the Gravedigger, after she'd heard that Booth had died taking a bullet for her—the Jeffersonian heals her like nothing else can. She lets out a little sigh and moves slowly through the silent halls, letting Temperance Brennan fall away, letting the scientist in her surface. She tries to remember which files she still needs to review and which cases she's most interested in at the moment. The Arizonian skeleton should be particularly interesting, and if she has time afterwards, she can get started on some analysis of the bones from the Paleontology department.

Three days, she thinks. Just three days. Three days and she'll be all fine again. Three days and it'll be like this night never happened.

A shadow looms up to her side, and she jumps, her eyes wide.

"Sorry, did I scare you?"

It takes her a moment to recognize the voice, and she chuckles breathlessly when she realizes who it is. "Micah. You startled me."

He steps forward into the dim light and shrugs his shoulders. "Sorry. Didn't mean to." He glances at her wet hair and damp clothes and raises an eyebrow. "Late night?"

She laughs softly, not because it's particularly funny but because she just needs to laugh. She needs to laugh or she'll cry.

"Yeah," she answers, managing a small, sad smile. "I guess you could say that."

"So did you figure it out?" he asks. "Who killed her?"

"She got hit by a car," Brennan answers, sobering at the remembrance of it, and at the remembrance of her own near-brush with death. "She was trying to save one of her patients, and she got hit by a car on the way." Just like that, snuffed out without so much as a ripple to let anyone know she had ever been there. She shivers at the thought.

"Anyway," she continues, shaking off those dark thoughts, "I figured it out."

Micah smiles. "You always figure it out."

"Most of the time," she says. Except the most important things, she figures out too late. She remembers Booth's words ("I love her") and swallows the tears burning hot in the back of her throat.

Micah must see the subtle flicker of emotion in her eyes because he peers closely at her and asks, "You okay, Doc? You don't look too happy to have figured out the answer."

Because she isn't happy. There's too much heartache tonight to be happy another case is closed. But she forces a smile anyway because that's what she's good at: hiding the pain.

"I'm fine," she tells him. "I just wanted to come in and finish up some more work."

There's a look in his eye that tells her he isn't convinced, but he doesn't say anything about it. "You just wanted to keep me company," he teases instead, bringing a smile to her face.

"Maybe I did," she answers, still smiling as she moves toward her office. She thinks of the files waiting to be opened and feels a sense of relief in being able to find a folder, find a skeleton, and fall into them without extraneous thoughts. Without thinking of anything but science and logic and rational things that can be proved with hard evidence.

Suddenly, there're voices behind her, and she turns curiously to find Micah holding up his hands and barring a taller figure with a trench coat and an all-too-familiar voice.

"I can't let you in without identification," Micah's saying firmly.

"You let her in," Booth protests.

"Yeah, because I know her," Micah retorts evenly. "I'm going to have to see some ID."

She watches from the doorway of her office as Booth yanks his badge from his waist and lets Micah get an eyeful of it. "Good enough ID for you?"

After a moment, Micah turns, his arm still held out to block Booth. "Doctor Brennan?"

She hesitates. She doesn't think she's ready—not by a long shot—to face Booth again so soon. She's baffled as to why he's followed her at all, when he should be getting back to the woman he loves. It is almost three in the morning, after all, and Hannah will be wondering where he is. But he's here. And that means something. She wonders what.

"He's my partner," she says at last. "It's fine."

"Thank you," Booth says dryly, brushing past Micah. He reaches her in the doorway and says, slightly breathless, "Listen, Bones, I was thinking and…" He lets out his breath in a whoosh and catches her eyes, startling her with the intensity of his gaze. "And I needed to come back and tell you, don't you dare do something like the stunt you pulled tonight again. Going out into a dangerous neighborhood at night in the pouring rain, alone, standing in the middle of the street like you're just asking to get hit by a car. You nearly gave me a heart attack tonight, Bones. So don't you dare do something like that again."

She just stands there for a moment, absorbing his words. Part of her flushes with warmth to know that he still cares for her enough to come after her again. The other part wonders if maybe he's just making it harder on both of them by never truly letting go.

"I'm sorry," she says finally. "I don't want you to worry."

He exhales heavily. "I always worry about you, Bones. Why do you think I followed you in the middle of the night anyway?"

She forces a smile. Maybe that's it. Maybe it was that show of protectiveness that broke her tonight. Maybe she misread that one gesture as something more, and that's what gave her the courage to say what she'd said. In hindsight, she realizes that protectiveness is just a part of Booth's nature, nothing more. It's just part of his responsibility as a partner.

"Thank you," she says. "I won't do it again."

"You'd better not," he replies, but with a little smile that takes the stern edge off his words.

That smile. One, even just a bare flash of teeth, that makes her heart hurt and her breath hitch. She wonders why she let herself open to him in the first place, when she knew logically that he could and would do nothing. It simply isn't in his character to be anything but fully committed, and that's what he is now with Hannah. She wonders why she bothered to let those words and those tears out at all.

He must see the hurt in her eyes. He must see that flash of pain, because his eyes are suddenly soft, and he says gently, "About the regrets, Bones…you shouldn't have any. We had a good run, better than most, and while it didn't end as either of us would've liked, it was good while it lasted."

While it lasted. But it isn't here anymore, is it? That's what hurts. "It was good," she agrees slowly, hoping he can't see the deeper hurt in her eyes. "I'll never regret the time I had with you, Booth."

He chuckles quietly, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Hey," he says softly, "you talk like we're leaving each other. We still have time, Bones. We've got all the time we want."

Do they? Do they really? She supposes that they do have time, as partners, maybe as friends. But never as something more. She missed that chance already, and it's taken her far too long to realize it. Now all she can do is watch the man she leaned on offer his shoulder and his heart to someone else. And know that she let it happen.

She smiles sadly. "Right. You're right." But it will never be the kind of time she wants with him.

He looks at her closely, and she glances away, unable to meet his warm gaze. Instead, she stares blankly into her office as he studies her, silently, in that perceptive way he has that seems like he can see to her very heart. Tonight, it must be easy, she thinks. Tonight, she let everything go for him to see.

"Bones," he says softly, "you'll be okay."

It's a statement, not a question. She smiles weakly in response. "I know. I'm always okay."

He doesn't move away, his expression worried. "Are you sure you don't want me to call someone? Angela? Max?"

"No." She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly to calm herself. It doesn't work as well as she hoped, but her voice still sounds more normal when she speaks again. "I just need some time, Booth. To adjust. I don't need anyone."

I've never needed anyone. Until you.

Genius, a part of her snaps. For someone with an exceptional IQ, you're shockingly dense.

She is, isn't she? She doesn't see what's good, what's right, until it's gone, and then it's too late. Too late for any hopes, any dreams. Too late to break out of this logical prison she's built to keep herself safe.

He's still standing there, an unreadable look in his eyes now. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, glancing at her hesitantly. She waits expectantly (hopefully) in the doorway of her office, wondering what he's going to say. Wondering what's left to be said. They've already covered everything, haven't they? Now all that's left to do is recover and forget.

"Bones," he says finally, lowly, "we had a place once. It was beautiful and fragile, and it was everything I ever wanted. No one else got that far with me but you, Bones. It was our place. And then we lost it."

She hears what he's saying, and it hurts like a punch to the gut. Why, why does he need to bring this up again?

"Now it's Hannah's," she says flatly, wondering whether to scream or cry. He hurts her again and again, and when she can't take anymore, he gives her another blow. She's tired, so tired, of being hurt.

But he shakes his head, a small, nostalgic smile curving his lips. "No, it's still ours, Bones. Hannah and I…that's another place. That's the point: that place will always be ours. We lost it, and maybe we'll never get it again. But don't you remember it? Wasn't it good?"

Yes, it was good. It was so good that thinking about those happy days now is like ripping a scab open, when all she wants to do is heal.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says, clenching her teeth so she won't cry again. Twice in one night is too much.

"The point is," he says gently, raising his fingers under her chin (his touch so warm) to tilt her head up. His eyes are dark and soft. "The point is, it's not over, Bones. Just because…just because you missed that chance doesn't mean another one won't come by. You'll find…"

Someone else. That someone.

No. Because he's that someone, and she's a year too late.

But she nods anyway and smiles like it's all okay. "Thanks. But I'm fine."

"You didn't hear me," he says, raising an eyebrow. "Bones, we lost what we had, yes. But I know things happen for a reason. When it's right, when we're both ready, we'll find that place again."

When. His choice of words send a shock of surprise and breathless hope through her. Not if. When.

She looks up at him at last, wondering if he knows he's planted a spark in her aching heart, a spark that only takes a breeze to burst into full flame. She wonders if they're just hurting each other like this, by clinging to any and all hope and hoping it'll all turn out right. But she doesn't care, because this spark is the warmest she's felt in days.

"Thank you," she says simply. For everything. For holding her up when she couldn't stand anymore, for steadying her when all she wanted to do was cry, for tearing apart the walls of logic that kept her alone for so long. It hurts, yes, and she wishes he'd never bothered to pry her apart. But now, remembering those days, she's glad he tried. She's glad they had that place.

"I'll see you on Monday," he says, releasing her chin. "Don't stay too late, okay? And get dry. You're going to catch a cold."

"I'll see you on Monday," she repeats, her voice sounding much more normal this time. "Don't forget, we have to finish up the paperwork on the last case."

He groans and shakes his head. "No way, Bones. After everything that's happened, I'm just going to go home and crash."

She smiles. "Good night, Booth."

He smiles too, and it's that old smile again. The one that he used to give her when he thought no one else was looking. "'Night, Bones."

She stands there in the shadows of her office, watching him walk down the hallway. Someday, she thinks. Someday, they'll get back to that place, that place where they watched movies until two in the morning, that place where they ate Thai until they were stuffed, that place where they could talk about anything and everything. That place where their smiles lit up the sky.

Next time, she thinks, next time, she'll be ready. Next time, they'll both be ready. She'll have her eyes wide open so she'll never miss a chance again.

Someday, when it's right, they'll find that place again. That place they had.