Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and am not making a profit, monetary or otherwise, through the online publication of this. A works cited section will follow.

A/N: This story was inspired by a scene in an episode of Law and Order: SVU – season 3 episode 6, "Redemption." In the scene, a serial rapist/murderer is dangling from a roof, and John Hawkins (a guest character) steps on the man's fingers, but Eliot Stabler talks him into not killing the man, and they both pull him up off the edge of the roof. This story will not be following that plot sequence, what I saw merely triggered the writing of this.


The dream came to her the same as it had every night for the past two weeks. Sweets' face a mask of sheer terror, mouth agape, the of tips of his fingers growing white as they gripped the edge of the building, slipping, slipping…and then the scream, echoing over the rooftops, except it never came from Sweets, but always from her.

Bones woke with a start, sitting up straight in bed, panting, plagued by the memory of Sweets' hands scrabbling at nothing as he fell to his death, his mouth forever open in a soundless scream, the bones of his left arm protruding through his skin after he felt.

"Tempe? What is it?" Booth's voice sounded like it was coming from a tunnel.

Temperance reached out for him instinctively, clutching blindly for his arm, and breathing easier once she had hold of it.

This wasn't like her, and she didn't like how the dream made her feel – shaken, vulnerable, and afraid for Sweets. She didn't want the doctor to die, even though he'd devoted himself to a soft science.

When she had finally gotten her breathing under control, she answered, as much to reassure Booth as herself, "Just a dream. It was just a dream."

Booth wrapped his arms around her, drawing her back, flush against his chest. Kissing her temple, he ran his hand through her hair. "Wanna talk about it?"

Bones shook her head, and relaxed in Booth's arms. She couldn't put this into words, and she wasn't sure why. It didn't make sense. She should be able to tell Booth about her dream, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Like when Sweets had plummeted several stories to his death, not making a sound.

She shivered, and wrapped her fingers around Booth's arm. It was comforting, the feel of him around her – warm and solid. She wondered who Sweets had to hold onto, when the nightmares came calling and wouldn't go away. It was a strange thought for her to be having, and she wasn't sure what she wanted to do about it.

"What's wrong?" Booth kissed her temple, the back of her neck, her collarbone.

"Nothing." She shook her head and frowned, burrowing further beneath the covers.

"Let's go back to sleep." Booth kissed the top of her head, and sank back against his pillow, taking Bones with him.

She nodded and closed her eyes. Hoping that the dream would not return, Bones snuggled against Booth's warmth, knowing that, if anyone could keep nightmares at bay, it would be him. He wasn't a knight in shining armor, but he was a damn good FBI agent, and he was hers.

She didn't know when sleep claimed her, but when she woke, it was to the scratchy feel of Booth's unshaven cheek against hers. It was a welcome feeling, as was the way his arms tightened around her when she shifted to get up.


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