It had been a week. He had stayed with her, even though she knew she should let a professional stay with him.

Brennan sat on the couch, with her feet tucked beneath her. He stood on the other side of the room, staring intently at a photograph on her wall. It was of them, just the two of them, sitting on the coach in her office at the lab. They were laughing, not looking at the camera. Angela had snapped it quickly, without either of them realizing it.

"Brennan," he said. She closed her eyes. He had been calling her that, Brennan, instead of Bones. He had heard everyone calling her that and he had followed suit. It was stupid, she knew, to be upset by it. She hadn't even wanted him to call her that at first. She had hated it. But somewhere along the way, it had become comforting to her. A reminder that their friendship was different than that of anyone else's that they knew.

She set her jaw and opened her eyes to see him. He was pointing at the picture.

"Where are we here?" he asked.

"My office."

He nodded.

She closed her eyes again, tightly, but a tear slipped out. He must have noticed.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She had promised herself that she would be patient, that she would understand that this process was hard for him too. But the way that he asked her, in the voice that she knew so dearly, broke her. He had said it the way Booth would have said it, her Booth- the one that knew her favorite flower and how she took her coffee.

She stood and tried to walk briskly from the room but he asked again, in the same caring voice.

She turned abruptly and stared at him.

"Brennan?" he asked.

More tears escaped.

"Bones," she said, softly but fiercely. "It's not Brennan, its Bones. You call me Bones."

"Bones," he said, as if testing the name out. It sounded hollow and unfamiliar and she immediately regretted telling him. She couldn't bear to hear him call her a name he didn't remember or understand.

"What's wrong, Bones?" he asked again, correcting himself.

"No," she said quietly. "No. Don't call me that. Don't call me that until remember who I am, who you are, what we are." She turned from him again and moved to her room.

She didn't remember falling asleep but when she woke up she realized it was still dark outside. She heard it again, a shuffling at the threshold of her bedroom door. Panic seized her as she remembered how upset she had been earlier, how she must have hurt him.

She felt her bed groan under his weight as he lay down next to her. She was on her side, facing away from him.

She felt his hand reach for the small of her back and rest there.

"Bones," he whispered.

The tears pricked her eyes again.

"Bones," he tried again.

She turned to him and in the dark she could see his eyes. Not the eyes of a partner who didn't know her, but of one who did.

A sob escaped her throat as she turned fully and laid her hand on his chest.

"Booth?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Booth," she whispered.

"Bones."