Temperance Brennan had never been one to believe in the notion of love. To her, love was like the existence of God: equivocal. She had cared deeply for people, but from an early age she learned that with that caring eventually came immense hurt, which was why she never allowed herself to entertain the possibility that love could in fact, exist. 
 
That was until recently. 
 
A little over 60 hours ago, she had walked briskly out of the Jeffersonian, about to embark on her vacation. The first real vacation she had been on, one not involving work of any kind, since her sophomore year in college. Sully had been thinking about buying a boat, and thought that it would be a great idea if the two of them spent their time taking it for a test run. Granted, they wound up spending more time below deck than above it, and in that first day never actually made it out onto the water.  
 
A little over 48 hours ago, Booth showed up boatside claiming he needed her expertise on the case he was working. So much for her first non-working vacation. Shortly thereafter, it was discovered that the body had no bones. And no bones, meant that she was no longer needed so she headed back out to join Sully once again, hoping that would be the last interruption they would experience. This time around, they had actually made it out to sea. Brennan forgot how exciting being on the open water could be, and how nice it was to be sharing it with someone that genuinely cared about her and in return, who she cared about as well. The feeling was short lived though, because no sooner than they had pulled the boat in and docked it at the marina, Booth was back and eventually convinced the two of them to lend a hand in the investigation. 
 
A little over 24 hours ago, Sully dropped a bomb on her that could possibly change her life drastically: He was sailing to the Caribbean and wanted her to go with him; to take a year-long sabbatical and leave behind her job and everyone that she cared about. She had immediately ran to Angela to ask her advice, but before she had even gotten the chance to finish explaining, without hesitation, Angela had told her to go. In all honestly, she had expected that from Angela. She had always been trying to get her out of the lab to experience life to the fullest. What she hadn't expected was Booth's response. She had been hesitant about telling him - she assumed that he would try to talk her out of it - but standing beside him, joking about Sully and his boat while watching an exhumation, she suddenly realized that this case could, in fact, be the last they would work on together. So, she had just blurted it out – not really knowing what to expect after all. He stayed quiet for a few minutes, letting her ramble on. She occasionally snuck a peak at his face, trying to gauge what he was thinking. She watched as his expression became serious and his jaw clenched. He told her that she should go; told her that she needed to “live wide” – which, in all honestly, sounded like an Angela expression, not a Booth one. And as she watched him speak, she couldn’t help but think the look on his face betrayed a different sentiment than his words. 
 
Then there was Professor Shi Jon Chen. He was a fellow anthropologist that she had crossed paths with numerous times over the years. They mutually held each other in high regard. Throughout the last case, he seemed a bit unsettled by her actions. She may not be able to read people very well, but she could definitely sense disappointment from a colleague. The last thing he said to her, while they had been waiting outside the interrogation room had not only made her think, but shook her a bit as well: You used to be dedicated to a much larger, timeless truth. Now you're just a tool for those who have smaller concerns. Would the Doctor Temperance Brennan of a few years back have just run off to the Caribbean with her boyfriend? Would she abandon everything else that was important to her for a boyfriend she had actually only known for a little more than a month? Would she have left the one thing that held meaning in her life for a year of reckless abandon? More importantly, would she have had even considered it before? Somewhere along the road, she realized, she had almost lost sight of why she became an Anthropologist. Even though she finally knew the truth about what happened to her parents, there were still so many other victims out there who needed a voice; a voice that only she could give them. 
 
A little over 12 hours ago, she had told Sully that she couldn't go with him. When he had asked her what her reasoning was, she hadn't known what to say. She had wanted to go, but she knew that in the end, she'd regret it. She’d wind up not only hating herself, but hating him in the process. She admired him for his whimsical ways, and even envied him slightly, but that's neither who she was nor who she would ever be. 
 
And now, the morning after, less than an hour after they had said their final goodbyes at the marina, she sat at the diner staring at her plate,  pushing her eggs around - not really feeling all that hungry afterall.

 Before he had left, she told Sully that as much as she cared about him, she couldn't wait for him to come back and that she didn't expect him to wait for her either. If he did, in fact, come back, which he swore he would, they'd have to see where they stood with each other then. No promises and no expectations. It was the only logical solution that she could come up with, though it didn't make the fact that he was leaving, any less painful. 
 
The sound of a fork hitting her plate and the sight of her eggs being stolen brought her back to present time.  
 
"Hey!" She protested weakly, batting Booth’s hand away, half heartedly. "If you wanted eggs, you should have ordered them." 
 
"I didn't want eggs, but I had to save those," he stated, matter-of-factly, again pointing his fork towards eggs on her plate. 
 
"Save them," she replied, with a slight question in her tone. "From who?" 
 
"From you." She wrinkled her eyebrows, giving him yet another questioning look. "Bones, you've been pushing them around your plate and stabbing at them for a good five minutes now. I'm barely carrying out my civic duty to protect and serve." 
 
"Booth. Eggs don't need to be protected." 
 
"Protected? No. But they were served, therefore they should be eaten." With that, his fork, once again, descended upon her plate. She rolled her eyes and smiled at his lame attempt at a joke, but then conceded by pushing the plate towards him. 
 
A few minutes of silence passed between them. While Brennan seemed quite focused on a non existent spot on the table, Booth was transfixed upon her face, trying to figure out exactly what was going on in that head of hers and what he could say to make things right She looked up, and caught his gaze.

 "What?” She asked. “Do I have ketchup on my face?" She took the back of her hand and wiped it against her mouth. 
 
"Nope." He said, never once breaking their eye contact. 
 
"Then what is it, Booth?" She watched him as he appeared to struggle to say what he was thinking. 
 
Letting out a breath, that he had been unaware he was holding, he began. "I'm sorry, Bones. I kept pushing you towards Sully, telling you what a great guy he was and all and I, uh,  knew from the start that he was a bit of a, um, free spirited. I just never in a million years thought that he'd just up and leave you like he did. Otherwise, I would have never encouraged it. I’m sorry that, once again, you had to watch someone you care about leave you behind...I'm just -". He trailed off, not really knowing what else to say. 
 
"Booth," she said placing her hand atop his on the table, "Sully didn't leave me behind. I chose not to go. This time it's different. Yes, it doesn't make this whole situation any less painful, but this time, the choice was mine to make. It was my decision to stay." She paused a second before continuing. "Besides, it was inevitable that Sully and I wouldn't last - our goals in life were completely opposite. After all, it was just a fling.." 
 
"Bones, you know it was more than that," he said, calling her bluff. "Sully loved you - still loves you. As cheesy as it is, hell, he named his boat after you. That's BIG. Really big." 
 
"Yeah..." She trailed off as she looked out the window onto the cars passing by. Booth could see that there was something on her mind other than the subject of their prior conversation when she turned her face back to him. Not wanting to push her too far too fast, he continued to eat the rest of her breakfast, knowing that she’d eventually ask him. 
 
"Booth? You didn't want me to go, did you?" With that, he almost spit out his coffee. That definitely wasn’t the question he thought she would ask.

"Now, why would you say that? I told you that you should live wide," he said, starting to fidget slightly in his seat. 
 
"What you told me and what I saw on your face were two different things. I couldn't figure out exactly what it meant at the time, but thinking back on it, I'm pretty sure that was, what you would call, your 'poker face'.” 
 
"But you're forgetting one thing, I don't gamble anymore." 
 
"You don't need to be a gambler to have a poker face," she retorted. 
 
"What happened to you not being able to read people?" 
 
"I can't, but I can read you – sometimes," she said. A light smile played on her lips at their all too familiar banter, but it was shortly replaced with a serious expression. "Why didn't you just tell me the truth?" 
 
"I did," he said. He leaned slightly forward, his elbows on the table in front of him, and brought his hands down over his face. "I knew that Angela would encourage you to go and I didn't want to make your decision any harder than it already was. So yeah, I told you that you should go." Trying to lighten the tone of the conversation he said, "Besides, I already knew that you were going to stay." He sat back in the seat, and smiled, smugly. 
 
"Oh, you did, did you?" She asked, slightly raising an eyebrow. 
 
"Of course. I mean, where else are you going to find a diner that has pie this good and is open 24 hours a day in the Caribbean? What happens if you have a craving for a piece of lemon meringue pie in the middle of the night? Where are you going to go to get some? Hmm?”

 “I don’t like lemon meringue pie, Booth. So that would never have been an issue,” she played along.

 “Okay, then cherry. I know you love cherry pie, Bones. Besides, eventually, you would have gone crazy if you couldn't bicker with anyone. I know for a fact that Sully isn't big on the bicker." They both laughed, realizing how naturally they play off each other.  
 
"Can I get you two anything else?" Their waitress asked as she refilled their coffee cups. 
 
"How about a piece of that cherry pie over there?" Brennan asked as she watched Booth's eyes grow wide. 
 
"Bones! You didn't want your breakfast, but now you want pie?" He mockingly gasped. 
 
"Hey, a girls gotta live wide, right?" She jestingly. 
 
"Yeah. Yeah she does," he smiled back at her than turned to the waitress. "Make that two." 
 
"Coming right up, Sweetie," she said as she turned and walked away. 
 
"Hey Bones? If you had gone…" Once again, his gaze was transfixed on hers. A weighted silence hung between them, only to be interrupted by the return of the waitress. 
 
"I would have missed you too, Booth," she said, finishing his thoughts after the waitress had left. 
 
"You're gonna be okay, you know that, right?”  He assured her. 
 
"Yeah," she said, her eyes meeting his. "I know." 
 
It was in that moment that she realized - there was no wrong or right decision, just two choices leading her down two distinctly different paths. And eventually, things would turn out exactly how they were supposed to, just like Booth had said.