A/N: This is the start of what will be an ongoing series of drabbles and double drabbles about Booth and Brennan. Most of them will not be connected to each other. A drabble is a vignette that's 100 words long. A double drabble is a vignette that's 200 words long. It's possible that some of these will be turned into longer stories, but who knows?

I know many people don't read drabbles, but I like them. They are a very particular form of writing, and I haven't dabbled in them in a while.

The one below takes place during the final scene of 2x12 (The Man in the Cell)—during Booth's infamous "lines" speech.

Booth knows Cam wasn't poisoned because of their relationship.

"There's this line, and we can't cross it," he says, and knows he's just made a liar of himself, because Brennan crossed the line long ago—and took up residence in his heart. And damn it, he let her.

He tells himself the reason he can't look at her for more than a second is that he needs to focus on Parker on the carousel. That, too, is a lie. He can't look at her because the truth is in his eyes, as visible as the cuts carved into his skin by the explosion.

A liar and a coward.

Two months ago, he dug her from the dry earth. The memory lingered long after he scrubbed the dirt from under his nails.

As bad as it was, seeing Cam lying still and pale, as a machine breathed for her, he knows it would break him if it was Brennan in her place.

Her arm brushes his as she watches his son go 'round; he leans forward.

If he stops touching her, if he convinces them both of the importance of the line, maybe then he'll figure out how to evict her.