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The knock was soft, and low, filled with hesitation and uncertainty. I know it's her despite the hour and the fact that I've only just dropped her home. Time is of no essence for us. We have so few boundaries, so few censors. I mean who needs boundaries when you have fine lines and walls anyway right?
I open my door and find her; hands in her front pant pockets, and a half cocked smile across her gorgeous face. I take a step back, and say nothing as I let her into the dark rooms behind me. I was on my way to bed and the only light comes from the green glow of the hall way night light I keep for Parker. I do not mention the hour or the fact that her smile does not reach her eyes. She drops her head slightly as she passes me in the door way. I'm uncertain and concerned. This is not my Bones. As natural as these visits can feel she's not one for them. My Bones, she doesn't cross that line. She keeps those walls high and thick, nothing touches her. Ever. When there is a late night calling, it's usually me at her door camouflaging what ever demons are haunt me that night with Thai food or Wong Foos.
I am the one who drew that line, after all, however fine a line it may be.
I'm the one who tip toes around her walls, who walks along them day and night but, never through them. I leave them high. I tell myself they make her who she is. Angela or Sweets would tell me they're only a part of who she's been, who she's had to be, and that she's waiting for me to take them down. That her heart has somehow imprinted on mine. But they obviously don't know her like I do. If I tare them down and bare her soul, she wouldn't be my Bones. She is who she has become because of them, at least Sweets and I can agree on that. I know deep down, if I'm the one to take that step, that leap, she'll never be the same.
"Hey Bones, what's up?"
I keep my voice light and I can't help but touch her because she wont face me and as hard as she is to read, and trust me she's impossible if you don't know what to look for, I need to see her. I need to try.
I place my hand in the crook of her elbow and give the slightest tug; she removes her hand from her pocket. I take a step closer and let my hand slide down her arm and take a gentle hold of her fingers. There's something in her hand but I'm so concerned with the look on her face it hardly registers.
"Hey Bones, you ok?"
This time I can hear the worry in my voice. She turns then, that half smile on her face, and nods. But there is no one on this planet I can claim to know better. And we both know she's a terrible liar.
I need so badly to make this right. Whatever it is that's wrong, I need to make it right.
So I wait for her.
Her voice is soft and unsure. In all our years together there have been so few instances where she's unsure.
"I found this earlier today. It was returned to me some time ago, when the evidence was released, and it's been in my desk drawer ever since."
In her hand is a small slip of paper, folded, torn and filthy. She holds it between us her grip on it tight.
"It was written so long ago and with the intentions that if in fact you were to read it, I would not be the one giving it to you."
As she says those words her voice falters, ever so slightly and my heart breaks at the sound.
"Bones look at me. Are you alright?" And finally she does, her eyes are wide, huge with emotion. Those enchanting blue depths almost swallowed whole by her pupils.
"Please, Booth, just read it."
Her eyes are pleading and still so guarded. I realize now in this instance that whatever this is, it will be monumental for us. It's the change she knows this small slip of paper will bring between us that she's so unsure of. And I can only hope for one small moment that it's a change all my dreams have been made of. But her eyes are drenched with unshed tears and she's trying so hard to keep her breathing under control. So I nod my head and hold her gaze. I need to take that look off her face before it becomes my undoing and I say things I shouldn't.
"When you say that you're alright Bones, tell me that there's nothing wrong and I'll read it."
She bobs her head once, her eyes never leaving mine. "I'm fine, just read." The slip of paper is in my hands, but I can't take my eyes from her face. She finally breaks away, stepping back and lets her hands fall to her sides. The paper is so old, so dirty and worn I wonder if the creases will withstand me opening it. I can't even imagine what this could possibly be. Evidence for what? Of what? I start, slowly to pull its edges apart when her hands come back to rest upon mine.
"They're just words."
She reminds me so softly it's hardly above a whisper. Her eyes are once again fixed on the paper and she will not look at me. I can feel her hand tremble as it rests over mine. I watch her closely as she fights this battle within herself. Who would think something so small could bring on so much fear in someone so strong. I look up at her face, but all that silky hair is in my way. I push a few strands behind her ear and find her porcelain cheeks glistening with tears. My uncertainties and concerns take a running leap into fear.
My Bones never cries.
"Bones?"
My hands cup her jaw; my fingers gingerly graze her cheeks and wipe her tears away. My heart is in my throat and my chest is so tight I'm finding it hard to breathe, but at the touch of my finger tips she leans forward and lifts up to her toes until our far heads meet. Her eyes are closed and her cheeks are pink and the tears won't stop. She grips both my wrists and takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. Whatever this is it's hard for her. She's so far out of her element here it's all over her face, all over every inch of her body.
I look her over; breathe her in like I have so many times before. The scent, the feel, even the sound of her it all tug at the seams that hold my heart together. This amazingly strong, self proclaimed woman, this woman who knows her mind and never understands her heart is standing before me, so close I can all but taste her as I inhale.
I tighten my hold on that lovely face and pull my own back to try and focus. I softly and slowly drag my thumbs across her cheeks one last time and tilt her head back so I can see her eyes, but she keeps them closed. Keeping me closed out.
"Bones, whatever it is, I-"
She presses two fingers against my lips as her eyes come open.
I want to tell her whatever it is I don't care. I want that terrified look off her face and out of her eyes. I want her to know whatever it is I'm staying right where I've always been, right where I am now.
"Please don't speak Booth, no matter what comes next just please don't speak."
Her sapphire eyes never leave mine as she steps into me. Her small soft hands leave my wrists and cup my neck, our noses softly bump. There are so many things I want to say at this point, so many things I've longed to say for so long. But she's come this fare, farther than she's ever gone on her own and I'd rather cut my own tongue out than break her here.
"Remember, they're just words."
She says it again with just a touch of force this time. Her voice is low, just a husky whisper. Her eyes are shut tight and she shakes her head slightly as she makes this declaration.
"And no matter what those words say they'll never hold enough of what they really are supposed to mean."
And with that she closes the inch between us, her lips so warm and soft on mine. Her hands slide up my neck and she cradles my face in her palms, her arms crushed between both of our bodies. Gently I part my lips and take a taste, and she's everything I always knew she'd be and more. Every muscle in my body screams in eager anticipation. And yet somewhere deep inside myself I find the ability to keep the pace she's set. To stay where I've always been and, that's right by her side. I step into her, invade her space until we're flush against each other; but it's not close enough for her. She leans in gently until my back is up against the wall. My hands go from her face to her hair and down to her hips to wrap tight around her waist, pulling her closer still. Her hands are everywhere, my hair, my face and then inside the lapels of my jacket and along my collar bones. I've longed for those hands on me for what seems at this moment like forever. I've watched them work so many, many times. I've wondered after their strength and marveled over their beauty. And as her knees go weak beneath her and we slide slowly to the floor I thank God for every time I've held back. For every time I've halted my need to make my feelings known.
Some how she's ended up in my lap, her knees flanking my hips, and as I open my eyes my vision is consumed by her. I lift my hands to trace her face and her eyes open and lock onto mine. She pulls back and there are meager inches between us. Her cheeks are dry, her lips swollen and her breath short. She pulls back further but I can't let her go. I lean into her my movements mimicking hers, our faces never more than a breath apart.
Once again she leans in and rests her for head against mine, and lets her hands tangle in my hair, mine rest low on her hips along the crease of her thighs. We catch our breath together. And I pray that in this moment we were both wishing for the same thing. That there would be no protest, no declaration of mistaken intentions or wrongful actions, I long so badly to tell her, anything, everything I've held inside all these years, the desire and respect, the love and adoration. But she's asked me to be silent so I stay silent.
"I've never loved anyone, ever."
This statement is nothing new to me. She's been telling me for years that love is just chemistry, just some imbalance of chemicals in the brain.
But sitting here now sharing her breath, tasting her tears, I know her views have changed. All of her science never prepared her for the emotion that brought her to my door tonight.
"I've never loved anyone, never wanted to. And even now no matter how many times I try to rationalize it, I just can't. So I'm here."
With that statement my heart soars and I can't keep quite any longer.
"I'm so glad you're here Bones."
I don't push, no matter how fast my heart races and how desperately I want to beg for the words. She's reveled so much and I'm afraid that one false move, one impromptu step and all the walls that have come crashing down tonight will be built sky high once again come morning. So I bring her lips back down to mine and let the thrill fill me once again.
I feel her small nimble fingers slowly working the buttons of my shirt. Her touch is gentle with the slightest tremor, the slightest hint of hesitation. So I run my fingers up her hips and slowly up her back under her shirt, her naked skin flush against my palms. Her soft sigh fills my mouth as my hands run the full length of her back and grasp her shoulders.
She breaks away and raises her arms above her head; her eyes are locked on mine now. All the uncertainty that filled them only moments ago is now gone without a trace, there's only desire there now. And as her blouse flutters to the floor we speak simultaneously, once again our thoughts in tandem. At least we know that'll never change
"Will you stay?"
"Can I stay?"
Neither of us answers as I lift us both from the floor, my shirt joining her blouse along the way as I lead her down the hall to the bedroom and gently close the door behind us. And there on the floor beneath the fallen clothes lies the small slip of paper that leads us to wear we are. Forgotten for the moment, for the evening or perhaps forever. They're just words after all.