Ok, so the majority of you that voted want the smut. But out of the mere twenty of you that voted, smut only had two more votes than no smut (that's a weird sentence). So what I decided to do was to give you something insanely fluffy and, most likely, the most OOC thing I've ever written. This isn't the smut chapter, I know, and I promise I will have one for you by next weekend because, in the meantime, I have exams to study for. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy.

Major references to the season 2 episode "Aliens in the Spaceship". That's where the letter stems from. For those of you who haven't seen it or forgot, Brennan wrote a final goodbye letter to someone (most likely Booth) while she was trapped in the buried car. That's where this idea stemmed from.

Chapter Ten:

-Sunday-

The thick scent of vanilla filled the bathroom, warming the air around the bathtub's current user. Brennan sank a little deeper into the relaxing heat of the water, a small smile on her face. She had originally planned for Booth to join her, but as soon as he found out she was taking a bubble bath, his masculine pride had him 'respectfully declining'. When she told him she knew he took baths, he corrected her by pointing out that he didn't take bubble baths. Wuss.

It didn't matter though. Brennan usually only took baths when she either wanted to think and have some time to herself or just to relax. This time was a little different though. As she submerged her head into the water, the topic of monogamy came to mind.

She'd always told herself that monogamy was an antiquated process and that human beings weren't a species that only had one mate for life like wolves and birds. Humans usually wanted multiple partners in life, even at the same time on occasions.

Booth had once told her once that it was what separated people from the chimps. Having the honesty and faith in someone that she thought used to be blindly sentimental and somewhat mock-ish. She thought back and couldn't think of one partner that she would've wanted any longer than the time she'd had them for.

All of that changed this morning when she had awaken to the feeling of two warm lips dotting her neck with kisses and large hands running over her cotton-covered body. His intentions made clear, Booth had made love to her so slowly it took them almost two hours to implode and collapse into each other, all the while whispering the what people called 'sweet-nothings' into her ear. One thing he'd said, however, had taken her completely off guard:

"You're all I could ever wish for, Temperance. You mean everything to me."

Brennan had been left wondering if his comment was really sincere. She knew he loved her, he made it obvious everyday by telling her first thing in the morning. It was a wonderful way to start the day, she'd discovered, but that didn't stop the nervous flutter in her stomach.

She resurfaced and pulled the plug on the tub, letting the water drain out of it as she vacated. Wringing her hair dry before she took the towel to it, Brennan felt this clenching in the pit of her stomach. While not painful, it made her feel slightly faint until she sat in the chair of her vanity.

Brennan looked at herself in the mirror for a hard minute. Both the evidences of vengeance and passion still apparent on her skin. She smiled to lightly at the thought of having to wear a turtleneck sweater to the lab today. While she respected Booth's belief that certain matters should be kept private, she still had the urge to uncover her battle wounds and display them like a gold medal dangling from her neck.

Pulling the tank top and cotton shorts onto her body, her eyes never left the mirror, her own blue eyes staring back at her. Brennan brushed through her hair absent-mindedly with her favorite comb, drawing out the moisture that would be left at the roots. Her thoughts were lost to all of the wonderful things that Booth had done for her as a partner, friend, and now a lover. Sure she wouldn't be able to count them all, Brennan pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and left her bathroom, leaving the door open so it would cool off faster.

Stepping into the bedroom, she saw Booth centered in the middle of her king-sized bed and flipping through the channels of the television he wouldn't live without and perhaps maybe forced into her domain. At this point, though, she wasn't going to argue with him. Give and take, take and give.

"Comfortable?" she had to ask as she went into her closet, fishing out another blanket.

Booth smiled and followed her with his eyes, "For the most part. All I would need right now is a beautiful woman next to me to make this perfect."

She gave the blanket a few quick tosses before she was satisfied with the area it covered. "You want me to go out and find her for you?"

"She's already here." he was quick with his response. Booth had good reflexes. It came in handy when something was taken the wrong way or in a debate with his partner.

Brennan climbed in next to him, but not close enough for him to reach her. She didn't know why she was acting so peculiar, even she knew her behavior was odd, but was all of a sudden filled with this unease.

"I don't have cooties, Bones. You can come a little closer." he chuckled.

"I know you don't have 'cooties', there's no credence to the stories that children use to avoid the opposite sex." she replied.

"Then why are you being so distant?" Booth asked as he lowered the arms he was holding out to embrace her in.

She sat up and looked down at the blood red blanket that she'd gotten so familiar with those short few years ago. Something had been nagging at the back of her mind ever since this morning when Angela had found the token of her existence, probably the reason that she and Booth were together now.

~ * ~

Brennan walked into her office to find her best friend hunched over her desk, tears at the corners of her eyes.

"Ange? Are you al-…" she looked down at the piece of paper that had stared back at her, taunting her, for two and a half years. Brennan swiped it out from underneath the artist's grasp, pressing the yellowing paper into the fabric of her lab coat. "How much did you read?"

A small sob and a visible shake escaped the distraught artist, "Every word."

"Where did you find it?" she whispered.

Angela's eyes were wild with apology and fright, "I went looking for your case file on the McGarver murder and I stumbled across that," she pointed to Brennan, "and I shouldn't have read it when I realized what it was, but I'm sorry, Bren. I'm really sorry."

Fresh droplets spilled forth as Brennan walked over to stroke her friend's back. "It's okay, Ange. I'm not angry with you."

Angela looked up with a sad smile on her face. "Have you shown that to him yet?"

Brennan shook her head.

"You need to. I think he deserves to know what was supposed to be meant for him." she continued.

"I know. And I will,…but I want to wait for the right moment." Brennan explained.

"Life's full of moment's, Sweetie. We make them. They don't make us." Angela dried the last of her tears and went on her way.

~ * ~

"There's something I need to talk to you about, Booth." she said quietly, almost inaudibly.

Booth watched her for a second, trying to figure out what she was talking about. "Of course, Bones." He knew she'd shock the hell out of him anyways.

Brennan walked over to her briefcase and popped the clamps holding it shut. She picked up a yellowing envelope that had been resting happily at the bottom of her desk at work all of these years.

"There isn't a doubt in my mind that you remember the Gravedigger case." she stated.

"You mean that psycho bitch who buried you alive and was ready to blow up the ship I was on and send me to the fishes? I think I can recall." he said sarcastically.

She smiled, faintly, and walked back over to the bed, envelope in hand. This time, she sat side-by-side with him. Brennan handed him the envelope wordlessly and motioned for him to open it.

Booth thought he was going to be shocked, but there needed to be a new word for the kind of flabbergasted he was at that moment. He'd unfolded the paper and dropped it as quickly as though it were on fire.

"I…I can't, Bones. I can't read that."

Both knew what it was. The piece of paper had said it all. It was a poorly, torn-out title page of her first novel, Bred in the Bone. Her goodbye letter to him.

"Just don't think of it as though I'm dead. I'm right here, sitting next to you, beating heart and all." she tried to be cheerful, and falling significantly short. "I know it's not easy, but please try?"

His chocolate brown eyes met her steely blue ones, watered already, and he knew he'd have to power through, if not for her sake, for his own. Booth picked up the paper again and started to read.

"Booth,

I'm not really sure how to start this. You read me like an open book anyway, so it's not like I can lie to you about anything. It's not like I'm writing this to a stranger either where I'd have to be formal and accurate. I mean, it's you and me. There's hardly an aspect of life we don't talk about. There's one thing I know you're going to want, though, and that's the truth. I know you, better than you think, and I know that you'll tear yourself up forever if you don't know what really happened down here…there…wherever. Answers are fleeting, but I hope I have a couple for you. This is all going to be the truth, one of the few things we agree on wanting.

What's important is Hodgins and I put up a good fight. We tried everything we could think of. If you're reading this, then it's likely that our best wasn't good enough. There's something we're trying right now that has both the potential to kill us or blow our way to freedom. It's probably not pertinent at this point, but we're making a make-shift charge from the airbag canisters. I can't get my hopes up for success, but my hope is that you'll never have to read this.

Hodgins wrote a letter to Angela, most likely admitting his feelings for her, and asked me if there was anybody I wanted to say goodbye to. At first I thought it was so he didn't feel foolish being the only one to do something so sentimental, but the look on his face when I put this pen to this torn-out page of my novel…he seemed so at ease. Small comforts are welcome in a situation like this, I'm quickly discovering. There's also the more personal fact that, as I write this, I realize how many things I left unsaid.

I never gave you the opportunity to be yourself. 'Don't be so pushy' and 'get federal on his ass'. It wasn't my place to question you judgment. I don't have room to vocalize these comments because you've been right almost every single time. Yes, you're metaphorical hell is freezing over. I admit that you're right. I'm not saying that your gut is better than my facts, but it seems to be the best thing that works for you. I'm sorry I didn't give you the credence you deserved.

I wish now that I should've stopped nagging you like a small child, also. I never left you alone about the gun. The problem there is that I've always had the need to defend myself is something I've lived with since I was a teenager being bumped around from foster home to foster home. Trusting my safety to someone else has always been something difficult to do. Trouble is…I trust you…implicitly and unconditionally…and it scares me. I've never trusted anyone like I have you. It's an unsettling thought, but I'm almost certain that I'd do anything for you. I'd kill for you and I'd die for you, if I wasn't going to soon. I know I shouldn't think like that, but I can't help it.

There's something else…I'm not really sure how to classify. As I write this, there's a clenching in my chest, butterflies in my stomach, and tears in my eyes. I'd like to think that this is due to the lack of oxygen in the car, but even I know that's not true. Every muscle in my body is achy and sore. My skin is clammy and my clothes have stuck to my body from the sweat. Over the last twelve hours, in the back of my mind, I've been thinking about you as I worked towards prolonging our existence down here. Now that all I'm doing is sitting here writing this to you, you're all I can think about. The comforting smell of your cologne is even still with me as I try to remember it. It's starting to depress me thinking that, if you've found this, I'm already gone and won't be able to tell you these things first-hand.

Whenever I'm around you, there's this rush of warmth that floods over me. When you touch me, even though it's a rare occurrence, it's almost as if my nerve endings are electrified. You stare at me with those eyes and, for the first time in my life, I'm at a loss for words. Those eyes of yours…it's nearly impossible to characterize what those eyes do to me. There are these emotions that battle within me that I can define quite easily. There are the emotions that I built walls to protect myself from. I haven't felt them for fifteen years, and I think from all of this, you know what I'm talking about.

I never expected this to happen. Angela was encouraging me this entire time to pursue it, but I was too work-oriented to let anything take place. I regret it now, even though I know that regrets serve no real purpose in life. I'm left to wonder now what it would've been like between you and I. If feels like I'm literally killing myself inside to hold it in .Even from 'beyond the grave' as you might call it, I…I love you.

It's sentimental and irrational, but I can't help it. I haven't felt anything this strong since my parents abandoned me. I've been trying to fight it, but you…you broke down every single one of my defenses. Taking my problems and my pain and accepting them as your own. I've never felt more cared about in my entire life. I love you most on that fact alone rather than all of the other numerous reasons.

I don't have much time left. We're about to set off the charge. I can only hope that this works and you don't have to know about my final thoughts about you. I started this thinking it would lessen your pain, but now that I'm practically sobbing on my dirt-covered clothes, I realize that it only pours about a pound of salt into the metaphorical wounds. I wish even though it doesn't help, that things didn't have to end this way, but you needed to know. I promise that when Hodgins and I set off this charge, even if this doesn't work, I'll be thinking of you.

I love you, Seeley Booth. Please don't ever forget that.

Your friend, partner…, and wannabe lover…

~Bones~"

Booth was utterly shell-shocked. Brennan had loved him even when he thought that his feelings for her were never to be brought out into the light. She'd cuddled up against him as he'd read, reassuring him that she was still there, beating heart and all. A lone tear had escaped his eye, and her hand shot out to catch it before it plopped on the already tear-stained paper.

"I wish I knew how many times I'd sit here late at night and read this to myself over and over, looking for some way to tell you how I felt." Brennan wrapped her arms even tighter around her bedmate. "I couldn't see a way out without potentially sabotaging our partnership and, at the time, your friendship meant more to me than my hormones. That's all I thought it was the more I read it; a heat of the moment thrill of passion." she buried her face into Booth's warm neck. "I didn't know how great this was going to be."

He swallowed, trying desperately to find his voice. "How great what was going to be?"

Brennan pushed aside the letter that his hand was clenched around and replaced it with her body, the comforting weight snapping him out of his trance and bringing his eyes to meet hers. The connection between them undeniable. She didn't think she'd believed the old 'body to body, heart to heart' metaphor until now.

She breathed. "I never thought that someone would mean more to me than my next breath. But that night, the first night we'd made love without alcohol added into the mix, it was the first time I'd ever…actually felt…completely comfortable with a man."

Booth's hand trailed over her back, "What do you mean? You've never…?"

It took Brennan a moment to figure out what he was asking. "Oh,…no, not that. Of course I've achieved that before. It's just…afterward everything was so awkward. You roll over and might talk for a few seconds before you both fall asleep. But with you it's so much more intimate. With us, everything's just so natural."

He brushed her hair behind her ear, still more than a little shaken by her letter. "Such as?"

"You cuddle me as were both coming down from the rush. You stroke my hair while I try to fall asleep. The last thing I hear before I'm unconscious is your voice telling me you love me. The first thing I feel when I wake up is the warmth of your arms seeping into my skin." Brennan's own well of tears threatened to overflow onto her cheeks.

"Bones, why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?" he asked quietly.

Brennan shrugged, "I guess I was just waiting for the right moment to tell you but then…someone reminded me moments are what we make of them."

Booth thought over her words for a minute. "Sounds like Angela." he commented.

The incredulous look she gave him confirmed his suspicions. She buried her head into his neck as her breathing evened out.

"I really do love you, Booth. I know I don't really express it enough, but I really do love you." Brennan whispered. The way she nuzzled into him made him feel like there was nothing else in the world beyond their bedroom, their bed, and his Bones.

"I love you more than I can ever tell you, Bones. I'll remember that you love me as long as you know that I love you." Booth pulled the covers up around their bodies, cocooning her into him.

"That's possible." she smiled.

"It's a deal then." he chuckled. Booth kissed her forehead and stroked her hair, the motions soothing them both into the bliss of sleep.

Reviews are needed for my poor, black-nail-polished fingers to type these chapters that you all seem to like so much XD.