The silence of her apartment was shattered, literally, as the glass of Bordeaux fell to the tiles and spread across the floor in tiny fragments, the sticky red liquid pooling around her bare feet.

"Fuck" she mumbled out loud. Not that anyone was around to hear her. It was a Saturday night after all. And alone was the usual way to spend it. Tonight her primary activity was to complete another chapter in her latest fictional escapades. This time reality played an increasing role in the novel. How could she not be influenced by the whole Gormagon case and the way it had played out. Zach's betrayal was the ultimate twist in the tale. Truth was often stranger than fiction.

Temperance pulled herself up onto the worktop, surveying the damage around her, and the stain the wine left on her skin. She plunged her feet into the sink and rinsed them off in the icy water. Last thing she needed right now was to walk red wine across the carpet.

No. The last thing she needed was to think about Booth. The reason the bottle was open in the first place. She pushed thoughts of her partner to the back of her head and grabbed the dustpan and brush.

She needed to get back to her writing. No more distractions. This scene was pivotal and she was determined to get it right. Sitting back down at her laptop with a fresh glass she began to type.

Kathy stood in the doorway, wearing a short trench-coat that barely skimmed her thighs, tied tightly around her waist, emphasizing the perfect hourglass figure he had admired since they first met. The stiletto heels were for him. She had noticed how he'd admired them earlier that evening on the hooker they were interviewing.

"Are you going to invite me in? It's a little chilly out here."

"Sure" Andy replied "Although you might find my apartment too warm to keep your coat on."

"Duly noted" Kathy answered as she slipped past his obvious arousal. She stood in the center of the room facing away from him, and slipped the coat off her shoulders revealing a black lace basque and panties set.

"I have a confession" he murmured, as he drank in the sight before him. "I did something I shouldn't have."

"I know." Kathy breathed huskily. "You've been a bad boy Booth...

"Crap." Temperance chastised as she re-read the passage checking for more involuntary lapses in concentration before changing Booth to Andy. To have anyone read the wrong name in her manuscript would be professional suicide, especially given her tendency to dedicate her books to Booth. Never mind the aftermath she would have to contend with in her personal life.

At what point did the scenes she played out in her head become her and Booth. She was certain it hadn't always been this way. After her first book was published the real life comparisons were the first thing people commented on. True, the dynamic of the group was an inspiration but her characters were a long way from their real life counterparts.

Counterparts? This realization was not good. Had she really written Andy thinking of nobody else but Booth? She mouthed his name as though it would mystically make him appear there in her apartment. Shirtless. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair visualizing her latest fantasy situation. Her hands slipped under the hem of her shirt stroking the bare skin until she found the lace of her bra. One hand slipped inside and found her aching nipple, twisting and rolling it brutally, trying to make the feeling somehow subside. It wasn't helping. She quickly removed her shirt and bra, flinging them aside, before grasping both breasts in the palms of her hands, massaging the soft mounds as she imagined that it was Booth, not herself, working to satisfy this burning desire for him that was growing by the day. Since his faked death she was slowly beginning to realize Booths feelings for her were not as platonic as he'd have her believe.

Staying here alone was a bad idea. There was little chance of anything being accomplished in her current frame of mind. Or intoxication, she thought glancing at the half empty bottle of red on the table. She hadn't drunk that much. As long as you didn't count the empty bottle of Chardonnay that had made the recycling bin it's temporary home. Damn it, she had needs. She flipped open her phone and called for a cab.

The twenty minutes the cab would take to arrive should be put to good use. She quickly brushed her teeth and touched up her makeup, a little too much, but it was all part of the show.

It was about time that dammed line was well and truly erased.

She pulled open her lingerie drawer searching for something, anything,that would tip his self restraint over the edge. White? Clinical, virginal, not the look she wanted. Black? Flattering... but boring. Red? Traditional. Temperance Brennan does not do tradition. Electric blue? Perfect. She smiled as she recalled a shopping trip with Angela, who'd commented that the satin and lace set picked out the color of her eyes. 'It'd drive Booth crazy' she'd said, to an unconvinced Brennan who, in turn, had spent the next two hours explaining the many reasons it would never happen. Reasons that had now dissipated into oblivion.


She clutched her coat around her tightly as she paid the cab driver. Sobriety had begun to set in and Temperance questioned her judgment in coming to see him tonight. She was here now though. The cab pulled away leaving her alone in the darkness. Taking a nervous breath she approached his front door and knocked. The light was on. That had to be a good sign. She heard movement inside, and the door opened.

"Bones?" Booth glanced back into the house. "What are you doing here?"

"I... um..." With her heart beating out of her chest she closed her eyes and pulled her overcoat back to reveal the lingerie she had painstakingly chosen back at her apartment. After what felt like the longest twenty seconds of her life she opened her eyes to find she had rendered her partner speechless.

Their eyes met and she could see confusion spilling from him.

"Is this some kind of dare? Angela's idea of a joke?" he quizzed.

"What? No... it's..." This wasn't what she had expected. In her version he had her up against a wall, unable to keep his hands off her exposed flesh, kissing her passionately. In actuality Booth looked horrified. She watched him glance back into the house as she wrapped the coat back around her tightly.

"Oh, you're not alone are you."


"I... should go. I'm sorry." she stumbled backwards, wanting to be a million miles away from here.

"Have you driven here?"

She shook her head, shivering in the cool air. Horrified at her drunken actions.

"Come inside, let me call a cab."

"It's fine, I apologize for interrupting your evening. Goodnight Booth"

Booth watched her walk quickly, almost running, back towards the road. He cursed under his breath, regretting the missed opportunity. Damn sods law. He needed to go after her. Not an option right now. Not with Parker chucking up his guts every ten minutes. It wasn't even viable to have someone watch him. Booth came back inside to find Parker stood in the lounge.

"Hey bud, can you still not sleep?"

"My tummy still hurts daddy."

"Well... lets see if I can make everything better." Booth smiled at his son as he considered both of his dilemma's. How exactly could he do this. He was going to need some help. Searching into the medicine cabinet with one hand Booth flipped open his phone in the other.

"Hi... Angela... I need a favor."