Half the problem felt like he wasn't thinking anything right now. Or at least, anything solid. Concepts and words kept chasing at each other's heels before he could fully grasp them. Bones had locked the door. He was trapped in here with the man he loved, the man he called brother whom he wanted to kill, everything awkward between them.

Why did important things seem to happen in shuttles?

He tried to work out a thought to start with, something concrete. Everything seemed to stupid when he thought about saying it, no matter how valid he felt in saying it.

"Do you love him?" To Bones, to Sam, he wasn't sure.