Disclaimer: Bones does not belong to me. It belongs to Hart Hanson, 20th Century Fox, and various affiliates, producers, writers, as well as the lovely and talented Emily Deschanel and David Boreanaz.

Spoilers: Tagged for 06x04 The Body In The Bounty. No spoilers for future episodes.

Author's Notes: You might be thinking, "Why in the world is she writing a new story when she hasn't updated her multi-chap fic in AGES?" Not to worry, dear reader, I have asked myself the same question. And the answer is that my muse for Learning Curves has decided to take a long vacation at some deserted island getaway, sipping strawberry daiquiris and checking out the, ahem, local flavor. Once I get her back, I will rope her back into the story and make her finish it before taking off again.

This one, on the other hand, is simply inspired by the latest episode - the first episode of the season where things felt remotely like they were back to normal for the entire gang. Is it coincidence that Hannah was nowhere near Booth in this episode? We'll never know. :)

Different Names For The Same Thing

She had removed the silly Mickey Mouse gloves and frilly red tutu and was now walking around her office in the skeleton-printed bodysuit when Booth entered the dimly-lit room. For a moment, he just leaned against the door frame and watched her blithely arrange her office - files in one corner, papers to check, reports to sign off - before spying him at the door. Her face, scrubbed free of TV make-up, glowed in the lamp light. She grinned at Booth. "I find that I enjoyed the experience immensely."

He waved his phone in the air. "I sent Parker some photos of your appearance. He said sorry that he missed it - soccer practice ended late."

"It's quite all right. Between my father and myself, Parker received more than adequate enrichment in science."

"Ah. Humble 'til the end, right, Bones?"

"Well, I am stating it as a fact." She smiled and gestured for Booth to assist her in unzipping the body suit. He stepped forward, suddenly nervous. It was already past seven, and the lab was almost deserted - blue-coated lab techs moving towards the glass double doors in twos and threes, ready to enjoy a Friday night. He grasped the small metal zipper latch and slowly pulled it downwards, carefully revealing inch after inch of smooth, pale skin. He felt, rather than saw, her reach behind her and grasp his wrist when the zipper parted just below the band of her bra. "Thank you, Booth."

He stepped back, suddenly hit with the realization that no, he was still not over Bones, not ever, not even with the inviting prospect of Hannah, bright and shining, in his bed and in his life, her smile a balm to his broken heart. Oh fuck it all.

Brennan, oblivious to his thoughts, bent down and gathered up her neatly folded clothes from the side of her office couch and moved towards the back of her office, where she was provided with her own small toilet and decontamination shower. "If you could give me five minutes, Booth, I'll be out of this costume and we can go to the Founding Fathers."

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I... uh... I have dinner with Hannah tonight." Way to be an asshole, Seeley.

Her deep blue eyes flickered for a moment, her lips momentarily curving downwards. He knew she was thinking the same thing: they always went out for drinks after solving a case. Always. Then the mask fell in place again - the same mask, he belatedly remembered, that she put on a few years ago when she saw Max and Russ jump in a van and drive away, leaving her handcuffed to a wrought-iron bench - and she said, "Well, anthropologically speaking, sharing meals with your mate strengthens the bond started by having a sexualized relationship." To his surprise, she gave him a genuine smile. "Go ahead and enjoy yourself. Send Hannah my regards."

He nodded, the memory of her smooth skin still beneath his fingers. "All right." He gave her a half-hearted wave. "Have a good evening, Bones."

She paused at the door of the shower. "You too, Booth."

He stumbled out of her office, mentally cursing himself for even opening his mouth. He flipped open his phone once more, typing a quick message to Hannah, inquiring if she would be done with work by eight and if she'd be open to trying that new French bistro near her office?

Just then, he noticed Cam, Hodgins, and Angela clustered together at the entrance of the lab, and made his way towards the group. "Where are you folks off to?" he said, trying to sound jovial.

Hodgins gave him a fistbump and wrapped an arm around his wife. "We were going to celebrate at the Founding Fathers tonight, since we figured that you guys will be there too with your usual celebratory drink, right, man?"

Booth nodded. "Uh. Right."

"Why don't you invite Hannah along, Seeley?" asked Cam, her dark eyes smiling.

Somehow, the prospect of mixing Hannah with the people he worked with (they're your family, you know, an inner voice reminded him caustically) left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Not that he faulted the squints - they were vocal in their support for his girlfriend. Even Bones went as far as providing Hannah with the perfect housewarming gift - the Bakelite phone now sat in its place of honor beside his (their) bed. No, the uncomfortable feeling was coming from him.

As though on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket with a message from Hannah. Sorry babe, rushing a story tonight. People here seem to think that it's breaking news, but you and I both know otherwise, right? I'll see you at home.

He looked up to see all three looking at him curiously. "Hannah," he said. "I'm meeting her for dinner."

"Friday night date," nodded Hodgins. "I get it, man. New love and all that."

Cam shrugged. "Did you tell Dr. Brennan already?"

"Why don't you folks tell her and I'll head down to grab a table for my date?" He sidled up between Hodgins and Cam and bolted for the door. "See you on Monday!"

Angela raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Was it just me or did he seem like he had ants in his pants?"

"Unless they're of the domestic variety, having ants in your pants is dangerous and if they sink their pincers into your flesh, you could go into anaphylactic shock." Brennan popped up behind them, her hair freed from their pigtails, her pale blue blouse slightly wrinkled from being stuffed in her bag en route to the lab in the morning. She wrinkled her nose. "I suppose Hodgins could tell you more about them, but I suppose they would not be very appealing dinner conversation."

Cam gestured to the doors. "Shall we get going? I don't want to sit at the bar."

Angela moved towards her best friend and looped her arm around her, tugging her towards the door. "Let's go, Bren. We're going to celebrate."

He sat at the bar, elbows on the greasy, pitted wooden surface, his glass empty. He gestured to the bartender - a burly, tattooed man in his early fifties, with a beard as thick as Moses' - for another shot of the Glenfiddich, enjoying the burn of the whisky as it coursed down his throat. He was drunk, he knew, and somewhere out in the sticks between Washington and the moon, but he really didn't care. Not at that point.

Another shot, the dark amber liquid sloshing past his lips, drawing a curve across his tongue and burning his insides with a comforting fire. He was not normally a drinker, but sometimes, special moments called for special whisky. Liquid courage, Bones had once said, although tequila was their poison of choice that rainy evening when she molded herself against his lips and wrote the story of his life with her hands tracing invisible lines up and down his back. Nobody else kissed like her, he was sure of it - all flames and passion, throwing herself into a kiss as surely as she threw herself into the search for that elusive truth. Temperance Brennan did not take gambles, did not take chances. When she truly wanted something, she went after it with the temerity of... well, whatever creature in the animal kingdom had absolute temerity. Lions had temerity, he was sure of it. Parker's Big Book of Animals said so. Okay, so Temperance Brennan had the temerity of a lion.

Lioness.

Lion.

Man, he was drunk.

A blonde with more breasts than he'd seen on a Kentucky Fried Chicken planted herself in the bar stool beside him and gave him an appraising once-over. "Hey babe, what's your name?"

"Seeley."

"Harmony." She signaled to the bartender. "Scott, a beer." The gruff man walked over and planted a bottle of Bud and a bowl of peanuts in front of her. "So what brings you here, Seeley?"

Booth looked at her, his brown eyes bleary and red-rimmed. "That's the best pick-up line you can come up with?" he slurred.

"Scoot doesn't like it when I pick up guys on his watch." Her cleavage swelled invitingly underneath the yellow bar lights. "So trust me, I'm not picking you up. But what's a handsome man like you doing in a dive like this when you can be somewhere else?"

He waved his glass in her direction. "Isn't it obvious what I'm doing here?"

"Well, you look like a kept man."

He laughed, a hollow sound that seemed foreign to his own ears. "Nope, I'm doomed."

Harmony scooted closer, her chipped fire-engine red nails raking the damp beer label away from the bottle. "Women troubles, huh?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "You have no idea."

"Tell me about it then."

"My partner - I'm in love with my partner. Been since forever. She's gorgeous and smart and she has no idea who Britney Spears it, but God, she's just... she has the most open heart, you know? But she didn't want to give me a chance, and so we left each other and then I found myself... entangled, I guess, entangled with another woman."

"And you love this woman?"

"Yeah." He downed the rest of the whisky in one gulp. "I do. I love her. She's funny and she makes me laugh and she wants me. Like, she wants to be with me. And Bones - that's what I call my partner 'cos she works with skeletons, yeah? - Bones, she doesn't want to be with me. We're like, friends. Best friends. 'Cept, I can't go on like that, not without wanting to see whether we could be more. And she shot me down. Fuck, she said she couldn't change. But I still love her. I'm still in love with her. And even though I'm with Hannah now, I still feel like I'm cheating on Bones. God, I'm fucked up."

Harmony cocked her head and looked at the man in front of her - he smelled too much like alcohol and sounded too much like grief. "Get a grip, man. That partner of yours, she still hasn't changed after all this time?"

"Well, she used to be - "

"Damn right, she used to be. Which means she isn't anymore. Which means all her bull about not being able to change is just that: bullshit. And you fell for it."

"But - "

Harmony shook her head. "Have you ever told her you loved her?"

"Well, uh, I did. Once. But I told her it was in an 'atta-girl' kind of way." He shoved his face into his hands, fingers running through his hair.

"So, no, I take it?" Harmony rolled her eyes. Men. "Look, women are not mind readers. You need to tell us what you mean, you need to reassure us that you still want us even when we're old and saggy and our hair's turned white and we get wrinkles, all right? That partner of yours - you never told her you love her, just expected her to drop everything, and then suddenly, you show up with a girlfriend? Boy, you need a lesson in handling women."

"I handle women just fine."

"No, you handle women like you're in some romantic comedy. Real life isn't a movie. Look, if you really love your girlfriend, you'd be home right now, waiting for her and getting your hanky-panky on instead of being in a dive like this, drinking your heart out like someone grabbed it out of your chest and smashed it on the floor."

"Bones says the heart is a muscle. That it can't break."

Harmony laughed. "That partner of yours must be a real trip, huh?"

He lifted his head for a moment to meet her amused eyes. "Yeah. She is. She's the best."

Just then, there was a commotion towards the front of the bar. Booth lifted his head just as Brennan pushed her way past the group of men surrounding her and made her way towards Booth, who was now slumped on the wooden surface of the bar, his eyes glazed over. "Hey Bones," he said, his words slipping strangely past his tongue. "This is Harmony. Harmony, my lovely pardner."

Brennan held out a hand and shook the other woman's. "Nice to meet you. Did he have sex with you tonight?"

Harmony gave her a wide grin. "He wasn't wrong about you, huh? Charming with a capital 'C'."

"How'd you find me, Bones?"

"GPS." She took his arm and hauled him up, so that he was half-standing, half-slumped against her. "I had Charlie track your phone after the Pam Noonan incident."

"You've been keeping tabs on me?"

She shrugged. For a slight woman, she was strong enough to support Booth's weight on her shoulders. "You've been doing the same since I was kidnapped, so I figured you'd be all right with it." She glanced up at Harmony. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"My pleasure, sweetheart. Not enough handsome guys walk into a place like this."

Brennan nodded. "He does have a pleasing symmetrical facial structure." Booth babbled something in her ear, too low for even Harmony to hear. "Anyway, we have to go. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise."

"Come on Booth, let's go. Hannah's probably worried about you. And no - that's not something you should put it your mouth!"

They were driving down the highway in Brennan's Prius, Booth slumped in the front passenger seat, his head against the window. She had buckled him securely despite his protests ("If we get into an accident, I don't want to be the one to explain to people that it was your stubbornness that killed you." "Fine!" "Fine.") and switched the radio to a smooth jazz station - partly to help him sleep comfortably, and partly to keep her awake.

"Bones?"

"Go to sleep, Booth. We are still half an hour away from your apartment. And I will drive you back tomorrow to pick up your car. You are in no condition to drive home by yourself tonight."

"I love you."

She glanced at him. Atta-boy. "If we are still using the same qualifiers as we did previously, then I love you too, Booth. In an atta-boy kind of way."

He shook his head, his voice laced with alcohol and sleepiness. "No. No, no, no. You don't understand Bones. Baby. I love you."

She gripped the steering wheel tighter. "You are inebriated, Booth. Alcohol has a tendency to bring down one's mental barriers and allow them to vocalize emotions and thoughts that are usually untrue. In this case, you love Hannah. Not me. Hannah."

"No, baby. I love you."

"Stop using that ridiculous moniker. It infantilizes women and makes it seem as though they are weak and helpless."

"Ain't nothing weak about you, Bones. You're strong. And tenacious. LIke a lion."

"I am fairly certain you are using the word incorrectly, Booth." Up ahead, she could see the dazzling lights of DC blanketing the skyline. Carefully, she merged into the sparse traffic and followed the familiar route to Booth's apartment. They would be home soon. Then she could climb into her bathtub, throw in some lavender bath salts, light some candles, and sink into the warm water without a care in the world.

"You did good today, Bones."

"Thank you."

"You made a bunch of kids want to be scientists. That's awesome. Like, super awesome. It was aaaa-ma-zing!"

She laughed inspite of herself. "I'm surprised you even know the Scientist's Pledge."

"Parker loves that Bunsen Dude's show."

"Then he would enjoy seeing the lab on television."

"See, that's one of the things I love about you, Bones. You care so much about Parker."

"Booth." Compartmentalize, Tempe. He doesn't know what he's saying. He'll forget it in the morning. "You love Hannah. You don't love me."

"You know, I was wrong when I asked you to take a chance on us that time, on the steps of the Hoover." It was like he didn't hear a word she said. "In a way, I was wrong. You don't take chances. I should have told you that we were a sure thing. That I'd never leave you. I should've told you that that stupid line was really just that. Stupid. A line I put down because I was scared of losing you. I can't lose you, Bones."

Brennan attempted to keep her eyes on the road, but it seemed that her tears had a mind of their own (Silly, they're not independent organisms, they're by-products of your lachrymal ducts!) and she pulled over at the side of the road, next to a darkened copse of trees. She waited for the tears to pass, the streetlights blurring like watercolor across a dirty canvas.

"Bones?" His voice was quiet, almost superseded by the strains of jazz filtering from the car stereo. She wiped her tears with the back of her hands and took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths. Her yoga teacher would be impressed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm all right, Booth."

She felt his hand reach across the console and wrap around hers, his grip warm and reassuring. "I meant what I said, Bones. Every word."

"You're with Hannah, Booth. And..." She didn't want to say it. Couldn't say it. You've lost me.

It seemed that Booth could read her mind. "I can't lose you, Bones. I won't."

"Sometimes we have to settle for what we have, Booth." She gave him a watery smile. "I am living the life I expected, and I am certain you are, as well."

"The life I expected..." He blinked his eyes a couple of times, trying to dispel the alcoholic haze surrounding his brain. "The life I expected is with you, Bones."

Before she could respond, he turned to face her, his face a silhouette in the half-shadows. "Look, Bones, I... I know it's not right, and it's not fair, but dammit, you're not her. And no matter how hard I try, how happy I am with Hannah, I'm still happier with you. And this isn't me asking for a chance. This isn't me asking you to gamble your heart. I'm telling you - I am a sure thing. My love is a sure thing. You and me? We're the center."

"And you love me?" Her voice was a half-sob, half-whisper, a shot in the dark.

"I love you."

The silence hung in the air like heavy storm clouds, waiting for a chance to release the rain. He looked at her and saw the lines around her eyes, the fine traceries of age around the corners of her lips, the way dark shadows seemed to smudge around the bottom of her eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw a spark there - a hint of warmth, of an open welcome.

Then, just as quickly, she shut down again. The engine sprang to life. "Come on Booth, I'll take you home."

Hannah opened the door to Booth's apartment in a terry-cloth bathrobe, her hair tied back into an unruly ponytail. "I've found him," said Brennan quickly, as though she couldn't stand to be around him any more than she had to. "I'm sorry it took so long."

The other woman nodded, her face drawn and tight. "Thanks, Temperance."

"He was drinking copious amounts of whisky when I found him. I suggest that you provide him with Advil and keep him hydrated." She stepped back into the hallway and waved at the couple. "Good night."

Booth didn't want to look at her; she kept her eyes averted. "Good night," said Hannah, ushering Booth inside the apartment. The door clicked shut behind her, and Brennan heard the unmistakable sound of the deadbolt sliding into place. That was it, then - she knew that hope, forever a fleeting thing, was simply just that: hope. Ephemeral. It didn't follow the slow, logical path of scientific evolution, where hypotheses could potentially become a theory, which could then become immutable, a law. Love, like most emotions, was a hypotheses. It could be proven or disproven. Her father had proven that he loved her; Angela had proven that she loved her. She sighed. Booth's statements still required further consideration.

Observe. Analyze. Deduce. The Dude's words came back to her as she traveled back down the elevator towards the parking lot of Booth's apartment block. The basis of scientific inquiry, reduced to words and actions even a child could understand. And she was certainly more intelligent than her pre-pubescent counterparts who were only just discovering their passion for science. So, observation: Booth was knowledgeable about her past. He knew her father and mother, both career criminals. Her brother, who was trying to put behind his past and focus on the future. He knew about her intelligence and financial success, and was fazed by neither. He made her laugh in a way that she rarely experienced. He brought her gifts. He kept a case of her favorite beer in his fridge - although now, having Hannah in his home, that would probably have stopped. He took a bullet for her when someone tried to shoot her. He knew she'd be a good mother. He loved her.

She paused. I have observed love. But love is merely a chemical reaction to propagate the species. She took a deep breath. No, that's not right. This was an age-old dilemma for her: on the one hand, she wanted to believe in love, in a fairytale romance. But on the other hand, science dismissed it as a biological imperative. And science had proved itself to be more reliable than anything love could ever throw in her way.

She slipped into the driver's seat of her car and revved the engine. The sky had lightened up - dawn was only a couple of hours away. An analysis: Booth's actions surely told her, in a myriad of different ways, that he cared about her. Perhaps more than what was usual between partners. Before than awful evening in front of the Hoover, before Maluku, before Hannah, he would always spend time with her: dinner, drinks, even a film or two at the local cinemas. He accompanied her to formal events at the Jeffersonian and she would always keep him company during the yearly FBI Christmas party. He would drop by on Sunday mornings in a suit jacket and tie, fresh from Mass, toting bagels and coffee. He invited her to outings with Parker - picnics at the park, hockey games, baseball games. Surely that was more a gesture of friendship than simple, professional partnership. She wondered when they had crossed that line he drew without even knowing.

Without even realizing it, she had driven towards the National Mall. Slipping into an empty parking space, she gunned the engine and stepped outside. The world was still; the moment before dawn. She moved towards the concrete paths that outlined the park, making her way towards the Reflecting Pool. Life hummed around her - a flock of mallard ducks quacked their way across the water, the buzz of insect life. A lone nightingale trilled as shadows gave way to the sun's light. She walked towards a familiar bench, half-hidden behind a copse of bushes, pausing before a 24-hour coffee cart to get a cup of coffee. With the warm beverage cupped in her hands, she settled on the bench, waiting for the sun to rise on the horizon behind the Capitol. Early-morning joggers started appearing in the distance, circumnavigating the park. It was peaceful here. Serene.

She pulled her mind back to her previous train of thought. After careful observation and analysis of data, Brennan was certain she could deduce meaning from the past seven years. He loved her - in that simple, unaffected way that was certainly Booth's. And she was also certain that she loved him in a manner that she had never given to any of her previous romantic liaisons before. And, with a rising feeling of hurt and sadness, she knew that she was the one who drove him to war, who gave him the means to escape to Hannah's arms. It was not his fault - she was not an easy person to love. And she never understood the meaning of the word until it was too late. In Maluku, it was easy to pretend, easy to imagine the strength of the circle of his arms, the comforting puff of air between their lips, a pause before a kiss...

"Hey."

A shadow crossed her line of vision, a familiar shape rising out of the sunrise. He carried a coffee cup as well. "Mind if I join you?"

She shifted to one side. "Have a seat, Booth."

He shuffled over, his usually perfectly coiffed hair now a rumpled mess, sticking out in all directions. His eyes were bleary and red-rimmed. And yet, he looked at her with perfect clarity, a kind of understanding that had been absent since they returned to Washington five months back.

Brennan gestured to his coffee. "Studies show that caffeine has an ameliorating effect on overindulgence of alcohol."

Booth took a long drink. "Well, I've been worse. Popped a couple of Advil before coming over here."

"How did you know I was here, anyway?"

"You always come here to think."

"What if I'd gone home instead?"

"You looked tired, Bones, but not sleepy." He slung a casual arm across the back of the bench, carefully touching her shoulders. "Thanks for picking me up tonight."

"Technically, it's morning already. The sunrise's almost here."

Quietly, the partners turned to face the east. Thick, golden light blanketed the edge of the horizon, dispersing wisps of clouds as the sun rose, bringing with it the kind of blue that Booth always associated with Brennan's eyes - a sunrise kind of blue, all light and reflection and joy. Birds flew overhead in formation, announcing the arrival of another day. Sunlight reflected over the surface of the pool, crystalline fragments dancing across the water, catching the first light.

"Angela was right," said Brennan presently.

"About what?"

"That a sunrise is better shared with someone you care for deeply."

Booth moved closer to her, until he was pressed comfortably against her side. "Hannah and I talked when I got back."

"What was the conclusion of your conversation?"

"I meant what I said tonight, Bones, on the drive back. And I've meant what I said last year as well. But you make it difficult sometimes, you know that?"

"I'm aware that I am not the easiest person to love, Booth. You, of all people, should know that. I pushed you away, and I've regretted it ever since."

"Do you love me?" he asked.

It took her a long time to answer.

When she opened her mouth, her words were soft but sure. "I believe that, after all this time, saying that we were just partners was my way of saying that we were in love."

He nodded. "I believe so, too."

"What about Hannah?"

"She said she knew, right from the beginning, even though I never said anything."

"She is much more perceptive than I am. You would be better off with her."

He tugged her towards him and allowed her to lean her head against his shoulder. Her dark hair brushed his neck and tickled his nose. "I have everything I want, everything I need, right here."

Hope blossomed tentatively inside her. She turned her head, pressed a light kiss against the junction where his neck and shoulders met. "You've evolved, Booth."

"Not as much as you, baby." Effortlessly, disregarding the empty coffee cups they cradled, he lifted her on his lap and bent down for a kiss. He tasted of coffee and misery, and for a heartbreaking moment, she wanted to kiss it all away. Booth was warm and familiar in her arms, his body trembling with passion (with love) as his lips encouraged hers to part, the elusive key to her heart.

When they broke off the kiss, Brennan curled up against Booth, his fingers lacing through hers as though they belonged there since the beginning of time. "I'm glad you believe in evolution, Bones. Change. Things becoming more than what they used to be."

She nodded, tucking her head beneath his chin, breathing in the scent of him. "I'm not stupid, Booth. I just needed time."

Around them, the city began to wake up. A new day. He hugged her tightly. "We have all the time in the world, Bones. All the time in the world."

A/N: So, what did you think? Was it a plausible, believable way of B&B getting together? Let me know your thoughts. As usual, reviews will be given a kind and loving home. :)