Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, not really nothing, but nothing described in this fic.
Author's Note: I don't rightly know what to call this. It started as a drabble the quickly broke the 1,000 word mark. It started as a fluff fic, then got dealt a healthy dose of...well, not fluff. Enjoy it for what it is. I know I did.
Familiar Comfort.
"I just wanted to make a difference, you know?" Temperance Brennan listens to her partner's dejected voice come through over the phone, breaking through the quiet of the night.
These days, it wasn't at all uncommon for them to call one another in the middle of the night, seeking comfort, reassurance, companionship. That's why the both sleep with their cell phones close at hand. Neither of them find this practice odd, though more than one bed-partner has remarked on its distinct oddity, and downright inconvenience at times; nothing superceded these calls. No one else understands what their partnership means to them, no one can understand the bond they share. There was nothing like nearly watching each other die to bring people closer together. That was the first night a call like this one had taken place; Booth was still in the hospital recovering from his various wounds, and Brennan was at home, trying to heal hers. He couldn't sleep; for the first time since he was a little boy, he was afraid of the dark. He instinctively called Brennan's cell phone, and despite the clock beside him indicating it was nearly four o'clock in the morning, she answered, and they spoke for well over an hour. From then on, these calls just were; they never had to be explained or justified. Brennan found that, despite her sleep being interrupted more often than she was accustomed to, she slept better knowing that he was there if she needed him, and that he would call her if he ever needed her.
"You do, Seeley, you make a difference. Every time you track down a murderer, every time you take out a potential threat." This particular conversation was not a new one, not by any means. Working in the fields they did, the nightmares that woke them were often rather unique and unusual. This deep-seated fear of Booth's was neither unique nor unusual, and yet, at the same time, Brennan would have called it strictly his.
"The difference I make is killing people." There is a clear self-derision in his voice, a harsh tone that he takes on rarely. At this time of night, they are both so vulnerable, any barriers are taken down. There is no hiding, and rarely do they engage in banter during these calls; this isn't the time for it. These partners know each other very well, they can debate in circles for hours, they can hold their own when it comes to teasing, but when it comes right down to it, they care about each other, and both know exactly what the other one needs.
"How many lives have you saved? For every threat you took out you saved what? Ten, maybe one hundred lives? Is that not making a difference?"
"It's not enough, Bones. They always win. I take down one bad guy, but what about the thousands of others I don't get? It all seems so futile." He vaguely wonders why he hasn't just given it all up by now, why he hasn't walked away, let someone else feel the weight of the world for a while. But he also knows why he does it; part of him likes playing the hero, taking down the bad guy, brining him to justice; but another part of him knows that just as much as he does it to keep the world safe, he does it to keep this woman safe. This woman who is his partner, his equal, in every sense of the word. If he were to give up, find a safe, normal job somewhere, who would protect her?
"And that's why you keep doing it. Every day you go out, and you take down one more bad guy before he has the chance to cause more harm. Isn't that enough?"
"It's never enough, Bones. Do you know what haunts me at night?"
"The faces of the people you've killed, I would imagine." Some people, Booth included, have told Brennan she doesn't have the people skills that most people are born with, and that would make it easy to misinterpret her remark as cold, or in poor taste. He doesn't, because now he knows better. People skills are often about telling people what they want to hear, instead of what they need to hear. Brennan is above that, she tells him what he needs to hear. Asks him the questions she wants to ask, gives answers, when perhaps the kinder thing would be to offer silence.
"No, I have the same nightmares you do. I see the ones I failed to protect, the ones I only meet as they come across your examining table." Brennan closes her eyes for a moment, seeing the sheer multitude of bodies that have come through her lab, the number of people, she corrects herself, just in the short time she has been working with him. Because they were people, and they are people, people with stories, with families, with their own pain and triumphs. Those people each had someone care about them as much as she cares about Booth, and that made them more real than anything. They were loved.
"You do a lot of good for those people, Seeley. You find the people that hurt them, you bring them to justice."
"Lot of good it does them." That mocking tone is back, though Brennan notes it is gentler than before, for which she is grateful. She doesn't at all begrudge the time spent on these calls, how can she when half of them are initiated by her?- but she does hate to hear her partner hurting so. If only other people knew what the strong Agent Booth sounded like in the middle of the night, lost and vulnerable, she thought. On second thought, no, I like it this way. I'm the only one he shares this with, I am the only one that gets this Booth.
"I'm not the spiritual one here, but I imagine it does do them some good, knowing that someone cared enough to find the person who murdered them. And I know the good it does for the families. I see the looks on their faces when you tell them that you found the person who killed their mother, their daughter, their wife. I see the comfort you bring them. You are a good man, Seeley Booth. Don't ever forget that."
There is a moment's silence, then Booth's voice comes softly through the phone, sounding more assured than it had a moment ago.
"Thank you, Temperance."
And that is the end of the conversation. No need for terms of endearment, no need for a "goodbye" or a "see you in the morning." Booth closes his cell phone, replaces it on the nightstand and promptly rolls over and falls right back into the sleep of the contented; there will be no more nightmares thsi night. Brennan waits up for a few more moments, then unconsciously mimics his actions, and falls asleep with a smile. Agent Booth would sleep better tonight, she knew, because of her. For someone who, for so long, had been independent and detached to a fault, she certainly reveled in her position as the one person Booth could turn to. As she slept, her mind continued to process the fact that, after all this time of being alone, now there was someone in the world who needed her; not for her unique abilities, not for her mind, but for her. She decided it was a nice feeling.
AN 2: Status is complete because this is a one-shot. Pending interest and ideas, it may become a serial.