Coming Clean

They chuckled together for a few seconds longer, neither knowing quite what to say but each enjoying the company. Booth leaned back, feeling as if he'd regained his equilibrium when it came to his partner.

She looked over at him from above her wine glass, "Do you think Broadsky knows who fired at him?"

Booth took a swig of his beer, wishing he'd picked something stronger before nodding slowly, "He knows. I told him if I could I would take the shot."

"You've spoken with him," she concluded immediately, eyebrows rising toward her hairline. "When? Why didn't you tell me?"

He let out a long sigh, knowing at once why he'd waited until now to tell her, but not knowing how to explain it. One hand moved to cup his neck while the other fiddled with the beer bottle until his eyes found the strength to meet hers.

"Broadsky came to my place," even those words were hard to get out but he pressed on. "After work last night."

"Why?" her eyes were wide with concern.

"The Marshall who killed herself meant something to him," Booth's eyes dropped to the counter. "He wanted to make sure I knew who he was blaming."

Her long fingers slid around his forearm, sending his nerve endings buzzing, and there was a fervor in her voice, "Paula Ashwaldt committed suicide, Booth."

"Because I confronted her," he couldn't quite keep the bitterness at bay any more than he could meet her eyes again.

"No," Brennan was adamant. "No, Booth, you can't let Broadsky make you feel guilty for a person's actions that you had no control over. Ashwaldt made her own decisions just as Broadsky has made his. You aren't culpable for either one of their actions. You're not."

"Thanks, Bones," his head raised, buoyed by her words. He set a hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze, "You're a good partner."

She flinched, ever-so-slightly, but he caught it and something shifted between the two of them, though he couldn't tell what it was. Brennan felt it too and after a hurried assurance that she would always be his partner she slipped her hand away, robbing his arm of the warmth.

Booth cursed inwardly for taking things too far, convincing himself this was further evidence she was trying to move on from any feelings she may have felt at one time. She didn't deserve to be saddled with regret; didn't deserve to be saddled to a guy like him who could just barely keep it together on the good days. He realized, though, he couldn't afford to lose her friendship either. Not now. Maybe not ever.

"We're a good team," he threw on a more confidant smile than what he was feeling. "He's not going to beat us, Bones."

"No," he saw the fire reignite in her eyes as she took the challenge. "We will catch him and bring him to justice."

And just like that the tension between them was dispelled as they found a battle they could fight together.

"Booth."

"Yeah, Bones?"

"If I were you, I would change my locks."