A/N: Hey guys! This is my first fic! I'm trying to stay true to the show, but if you see something, please tell me and I'll try and rectify it.

I don't own Bones. Believe me, if I did, I wouldn't be sharing.

PS: Did you guys see last nights ep?? I thought Booth was going to jump her right there when she put those glasses on. *sigh*

Temperance sat on her couch staring off into space. She had no idea how much time had passed, whether it had been minutes or hours since Angela had dropped her off. Angela had offered to stay, but she had assured her that she would be fine, and that she'd see her tomorrow at work.

"Sweetie, you are not going to work tomorrow. You need to give yourself time to grieve." Angela looked at her. Brennan was still covered in blood. It was all over her hands and her shirt where she'd hugged Booth to her chest, telling him that he could do this. Angela had watched her best friend try and staunch the blood that was ever flowing from Booth's shoulder. Angela had watched Booth clutch Brennan's hand as she leaned over him, tears forming, looking directly into his wide eyes. Angela had watched as Brennan let the tears fall as they loaded Booth into the ambulance and told her she couldn't come. Angela had watched Brennan's face close off and turn to stone when the doctors had informed them Booth had died on the operating table. In that moment Angela knew that Brennan, in her own way, loved Booth as more than a partner.

"Angela?" She looked at Angela and found her staring off into space, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "Angela, please. I'll be fine." She stood up and ushered Angela to the door.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow sweetie." Angela turned to look at Brennan's face before the door closed. She wondered how long it would take someone to break through the walls that Booth had silently crept around.

She sighed loudly and stood up. She looked around her apartment wondering why she didn't feel like she was at home. She couldn't place it, but something was most definitely off. She sighed again. She couldn't remember when the last time she had thoroughly and cleaned her apartment. Maybe that would help get her mind off Booth. She lifted her hand to run it through her hair and stopped suddenly.

"Oh god." She stared at the blood that stained her hands, her shirt, her pants and felt her stomach abruptly lurch. She ran to the bathroom like someone was chasing her and landed hard on her knees as she heaved whatever was in her stomach up. After what felt like a thousand dry heaves, she rested her sweating forehead against the cool porcelain. She lifted her head with a sudden realization. Booth was dead. He wasn't going to be there anymore to give her a "guy hug" when she was scared. He wasn't going to show up at her door with food when he knew she was upset. She wouldn't be able to turn and ask him what a pop culture reference meant. She wouldn't have anyone to explain to her how to act around certain people. She could take care of herself, that was for sure. But in the three years that she'd known Booth, against her will, she'd come to depend on him quite a bit. She had believed him when they sat in her office taking shots and he'd said he would never betray her. She remembered when she had been buried with Hodgins and had explained to him that she didn't have faith, she knew that he would come. He'd proven that over and over to her. But, Booth was dead. Those words kept repeating in her head.

She sat there as wave after wave of grief washed over her. Her eyes welled and spilled over. She sat with her back pressed against the tub; her knees pulled up to her chest and sobbed. She couldn't stop it. She had never cried this hard, not even when her parents left. Then, she'd been in shock. She couldn't believe that they were really gone, and then, with Russ leaving, she'd been shoved into the System. Once there, she didn't have time to cry. She had to survive.

Sob after sob wrench from her throat, leaving it raw. She couldn't believe that after all they had been through, he had left her. She couldn't believe that he had to audacity to step in front of that bullet that she would've gladly taken if it meant saving him. What did she have? Her father and Russ. But, Booth, he had a son, a little boy that worshipped him. What was Parker going to do? She knew what it was like to have your parents taken from you. Would Rebecca tell him about Booth, about how much he loved him, about how amazing he was?

She looked at her hands again, seeing the dried blood covering them. She dragged herself up into the shower, fully dressed, and turned the water to the hottest setting. She let the scalding water pour over her, not noticing because she was numb. She had cried herself numb. She sat at the bottom of the tub, hoping that the water would make her feel something. She grabbed her loufa and scrubbing until her skin was bright red.

She sat there, staring at the wall until the water was so cold she was shaking. Actually, she didn't know if the shaking was from the water or because of the sobs still ripping through her body. She stood and peeled off her clothing, leaving her naked and shivering in her bathroom. She picked it up, and held it away from her body. She walked to the kitchen and shoved them in the trash, underwear and all. She walked to her bedroom, and donned a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt. She collapsed onto her bed, breath whooshing from her lungs as her head hit the pillow.

She knew sleep wasn't going to come tonight, not without nightmares, albeit different than the usual ones, but these just as potent. She curled up in the fetal position, staring at her bedside table. All of the sudden, she jumped up. On her bedside table sat Brainy Smurf, Jasper and a picture of her and Booth that Angela had snapped one day at the lab. She couldn't look at them right now, she just couldn't. She ran to her closet, looking for something to put them in. She grabbed a small suitcase she used for makeup and such when traveling.

The tears began to course down her cheeks again as she walked around her apartment gathering up everything that reminded her of Booth and throwing it into the suitcase. She grabbed Brainy Smurf, Jasper, the picture, Wong Foo's menu, her Foreigner CD, anything at all. She ripped her dress from Las Vegas off the hanger and rolled it up and threw it in there too. She looked at her bookshelves and grabbed the novel that she'd dedicated to him. She opened it, revealing a crumpled piece of paper. She smoothed it out and started to read her own hurried writing.

Booth,

I know that you did all that you could. I know. Do not blame yourself, please. Please tell Russ that I don't hate him, and that I love him very much. Have him tell my Dad that despite everything, I love him too. Angela, tell her I'm going to miss her.

I do have one regret. I'm sorry that I'll never get to tell you in person how much you mean to me. I'm sorry that I'll never get to tell you that when I close my eyes at night, and when I open them in the morning, inevitably, you are always on my mind. I'm sorry that I'll never get to tell you that if love is that squeezing feeling you get in your chest when you're around someone (even though it really has no basis in science) and knowing that someone is always there to catch you if you fall, then I think that I love you.

Temperance

She couldn't believe that she was still able to produce tears after the hours that she'd already spent crying. She placed the note back into the book and tucked it on top of the dress in the suitcase. She gently shut the lid and locked it. And with that, her heart closed itself off from all emotion. After all, he was the one that taught her about them, and helped her use them. It felt like she was betraying him by using them.

She carried the suitcase to her room and set it down on the bed. She curled up next to it and, finally, her exhausted ever running brain slowed enough to let her pass into a fitful sleep.

******

For the next two weeks, she totally closed herself off. Angela tried valiantly to draw her out of her shell. But she was having none of it. She worked ungodly hours, showing up sometimes as early as five am and not leaving until nine or ten pm. She didn't talk unless it pertained to whatever case they happened to be working on. She didn't go see Sweets, and she didn't work with the FBI. She refused to be paired with another partner. No matter who approached her, she was adamant that she was going to be working on Limbo cases and that was it. That was her life. She didn't know if it would ever change.

"It's time, Dr. Brennan." Hodgins told her as she and Zach examined the 16th century French skeleton. She kept going, ignoring Hodgins and continued to address Zach.

"That's enough." This time it was Cam's turn. "We're going, now." This upset her. She didn't want to go to this funeral. Couldn't they see that? She knew that if she went, it was real, and it truly was over. She knew that if she went, the stone walls she'd been building would crumble, and she wouldn't be able to handle breaking down like that again.

"I have remains to identify. He could have a family." Even she knew that they would see through that reason. She wasn't thinking all that clearly, and couldn't come up with a defense fast enough.

"He 500 years old, they've probably adjusted by now." Angela knew that she was dodging. She'd known that Angela would see through her farce, and speak up.

"I'm not going. I've already made that clear." No. She wasn't going to go. No matter how much they begged or pleaded, nothing was getting her out of there.

"It's Agent Booth's funeral, Dr. Brennan. Losing a loved one…"

"A partner, Sweets. I lost a partner." She didn't know why she had to emphasis that. It didn't matter now. Even though, she knew he was right. She had loved him. Why hadn't she told him? She knew, that for the rest of her life, she was going to rue never telling him how she felt.

Sweets went on to say something about how his funeral allowed her to grieve and come to terms with his death. He knew nothing. She was grieving. Most likely, she'd grieve for the rest of her life. She was annoyed that he had the audacity to accuse her of not grieving! She spouted off a story about aborigines burning down their village when someone died, and that standing around a hole seemed no crazier.

But what convinced her was when Angela dragged her off to the side, much to the annoyance of Sweets. Angela explained that she understood. But, she held up the booklet with Booth's picture on the front. She had to blink a few times to keep back the tears that were forming.

"I need to ask you a favor. I need to go to the funeral. I'm not going to be able to get through this alone. I've been crying for like days. I really need your shoulder here. I need my best friend."

Temperance looked at her, and saw that Angela really needed her, and with that, some of her stone walls began to crumble. She nodded her head at Angela and they all left.

******

Temperance stood there beside Booth's casket. Vaguely, she could hear Caroline's voice delivering a eulogy. But her mind wasn't really registering. She was running through the scene at the Checkerbox, trying to figure out what she could've done differently. She wondered if she'd been paying attention, and not showing off, would she have noticed Pam walk into the bar and life a gun? Could she have gotten down off stage and pushed Booth out of the way? Why the hell had he done that? He had NO right!

"That woman was aiming at me. I would've happily taken that bullet."

"I know." Angela assured her.

"If there were a merciful God, why wouldn't he have saved Booth?" See, this is why she didn't believe in God. Someone who was supposedly omnipotent couldn't save a man who believed in him, and dedicated his life to helping people and raising his son. Why would someone do that to Booth? She couldn't wrap her mind around that, and it wasn't usual that she couldn't. She heard the 21 gun salute. She watched as someone walked up with a white rose in his hand, and then everything started moving really fast. Someone burst through their line and started to wrestle. She watched the spectacle in confusion. They slammed into Booth's coffin, knocking it over. There was a dummy in the coffin. What? What the hell was going on? She looked down again and saw that it was Booth wrestling with that guy. A furious storm began to form in her brain. The mantra it kept repeating was, he's not dead, he's not dead. A weight was lifted from her heart, even as another settled over it. This one was pure anger. She ran over and grabbed an arm out of the coffin and swung it at the guy if only to stop the movement so she could see for true that it was him.

"Bones, nice shot." There it was, the proof. He was the only one who did, and who could, call her Bones. She felt the anger that had begun simmering, explode.

"What?" She looked at him, and hauled off and punched him with every ounce of strength in her body. She heard him hit the ground with a groan. She stalked off, fury running through her body and making her knees weak.

She really couldn't think about Booth right now. But her mind was kept busy with the mandible that arrived and the ensuing chaos. Finding out that Sweets had been the one that put her through what was probably the two worst weeks of her entire life. Busting into Booth's bathroom had been a tad cathartic. Not to mention, it wasn't often, or ever, that she got to see Booth, totally naked and wet on top of that. It certainly didn't help the fact that underneath her rage, she could feel her heart beat faster. Despite everything that he had put her through, she couldn't help it. The beer hat, the cigar, the comic book, everything he did was striking her as cute. And that seriously pissed her off.

Then, Zach. It hurt so much to find out that he, too, had ultimately betrayed her. She had to stop letting her walls down and letting people in. This was going to be the death of her. This was just the last straw. She began to rebuild the stone walls around her heart, and started to push everyone away.

A/N2: There is going to be more, most defintely. Just give me some time. I'm bad at updating things.... :-D