A/N: This was supposed to be part of the Valentine's Day Challenge, but I couldn't make it work. So, here is the finished short story. Hope you enjoy. This is set not long after Jared dies and Booth and Brennan return to their old jobs.
He was losing her.
He never realized that he could lose something that was standing right in front of him.
Not that she'd ever leave, and neither would he. They would simply circle each other, forever searching but not being able to find that emotional connection that once had threatened to swallow them whole.
There wasn't a clear point when it began. The three months in jail, his gambling relapse, quitting their jobs, a new baby, the whole thing with Jared, getting their old jobs back. Or did it start before that, when Bones was on the run.
The list of stressors were endless and when all you could focus on was getting yourself from one day to the next, it was hard to find the energy to focus on something or someone else.
But in the end, did it matter when it started? What mattered was that it had. Bones was arriving home later in the evening, long after she should be home. She'd take care of Hank and Christine, then many nights disappear into her office to work on her book. Some nights, she fell asleep on the couch in the office. Not every night, not even every other, but often enough that he noticed.
He missed her, missed the casual touches and gentle kisses that had seemed like so little, but in actuality had been everything.
Now it was hugs hello and kisses good-bye. They still made love quite often, but there was a part of herself she was holding back from him. Some new wall she'd built Booth couldn't seem to find his way around. He'd hoped that passing time would cure what ailed them, but it didn't seem to be helping.
It was only making it worse.
She arrived home earlier than he expected that evening, her hair damp from the rain that had started that afternoon. It glistened under the lights in the living room, reminding him of the night they'd rested on the hood of the car and stared at the stars. He hesitated a moment, watching her greet his children, marveling at the miracle that was her.
Dinner, one of her favorites, was waiting for her on the table. If she noticed, Booth couldn't tell and his brow furrowed. No matter what was taking place, she'd never failed to notice the little things.
But lately, even the little things were getting lost.
"Rough day?" he asked, pouring her a glass of wine.
With a grateful smile she took the glass, but seemed, at least to him, to grab the glass in such a way as to make sure their fingers didn't touch. Every touch, or lack of one was something he was analyzing now. Nothing between them seemed to be simple anymore. "Clark and I are having a disagreement over a set of remains we are working on. I'm going to do some research tonight so I can make it clear tomorrow that he is making an error."
Booth smiled at his wife's confident statement. He didn't doubt for a minute she'd find what she was looking for.
However, she was going to spend another night in her office. Together, in the same house, but apart just the same. Hiding his disappointment, Booth pointed to her plate. "Are you enjoying your dinner."
Bones looked down, finally taking the time to notice what she was eating. "One of my favorites," she commented, taking another bite. "Thank you."
Nodding, Booth watched her finish the meal. They made small talk, mostly about their children. Soon dishes were cleared, the kids were in bed, and Brennan disappeared into her office.
Lost, Booth wandered from room to room his fingers casually brushing over various things without noticing what he was touching. Finally, he stopped in front of their wedding photo, picking it up to study it.
It seemed so long ago, and yet no longer than yesterday. Taking the picture, he retrieved a pen and paper from the drawer and took all the items with him back to the table. With the picture in sight, he picked up the pen and considered what he was doing.
If he spoke, his Bones didn't always understand the hidden meanings behind words. She believed in proof, a proof not always found in those spoken words. But perhaps, she'd take his words more seriously if he took the time to write them.
But what to say? How to close a gap that felt oceans deep with only words? So, he did what he always did.
He went with his gut.
Dear Bones,
Do you remember that first year we worked together when you went to some banquet Hodgins didn't want to attend? I'm sure you remember, because you don't forget anything. The thing is, unlike you, I don't remember much about that night, like who or what the banquet was for, but I do remember you.
You were beautiful in that dress you wore. It's still back in the closet, did you know that? You tried to get rid of it a few years ago, but I took it out of the pile and hung it back up.
I remember how you looked that night, your skin glowing under the lights. I can only imagine how you looked in a room lit for a party.
I wanted to go with you. And I hate those Jeffersonian parties.
I saw you that night, in a way I didn't want to see you. More than a partner, more than a potential friend, I saw you as a woman. A woman who I was terrified I'd never be good enough for. The woman I'd tried to avoid looking at since the day you rode away in that cab.
Maybe this year, when we go to a Jeffersonian party, you can find a dress that bares your shoulders, so I can see how your skin glows under those dim lights. So I can brush my fingers over that skin when we dance.
The feel of your skin beneath my fingers is one of the greatest sensations I have ever had the privilege to experience.
I love you, Bones,
Booth
Tapping his pen nervously, Booth ripped the paper from the notebook and folded it in thirds. If didn't really tell her anything, except to remind her how he felt for her. For a long time, he stared at the photograph, turning the paper over and over in his hands, before rising from the table and putting everything away. The note he finally put in Bones' bag, where she was sure to find it the next day.
Walking the house one last time, sure all the windows and doors were locked, he quietly checked on his children. After, he paused for a time outside the closed office door, resting his palm against it. Despite the temptation to check on her, he didn't go in, not wanting to feel the distance that had opened between them.
A distance he had every intention of closing.
As usual, when Bones worked in her office lately, she didn't reappear until early the next day. Hectic mornings of getting children and themselves ready to leave the house precluded any deep conversation. She did answer positively when Booth asked her if her research had provided what she needed, but other than that, very little was said.
If Booth thought she didn't notice the strain between them, he was wrong. Brennan also recognized that she was a significant cause of that strain. But the last year or two had been full of worry and her heart was tired. She knew she just needed some time to find her center again, but was having a difficult time finding the words to explain that to her husband.
She loved Booth desperately, deeply, in a way that had nothing to do with chemicals and everything to do with pure emotion. The kind of emotion that still had the power to terrify her when the lights went out.
The kind that she found hard to deal with when thoughts of Booth's safety intruded on her day. So lately she'd tried not to think about the risks he'd taken, the lies during the gambling relapse and when he tried to help his brother. The lies that made it hard for her to trust him each time he walked out the door. But in order to do that, to try to work through all she was feeling, she'd taken a step back from Booth, and Brennan knew that wasn't okay, either. She needed to accept what had happened, trust her husband, in order to step forward again.
Booth stared at the clock most of the day, in between moments of obsessively checking his email. He didn't really expect Bones to send a message if she'd found his letter, but it didn't preclude him from checking to make sure.
Most of his fellow agents avoided him. They'd become adept at reading his moods and it was clear that it was a good day to leave him alone. Thankfully, most of them were able to find cases to work on, or suspects to interview that kept them out of the office.
The day wasn't a total loss, he did manage to review several expense reports, but by early afternoon he gave up on completing anything else and left early. Being a senior agent did have its advantages at times.
Tossing his keys into the bowl by the door, Booth was surprised to see that Bones was already home. She gave him a welcoming smile as she pulled out the ingredients for macaroni and cheese.
"Go ahead and change," she said, motioning him from the kitchen. "It's my night to make a nice dinner for you."
Taking it as a good sign that she was home early, Booth hurried to the bedroom to change. He was looking for something in the closet when he noticed that some of the items in the back appeared to have been moved. Pushing things out of the way, it only took a moment to figure out why.
The zipper was still open slightly and Booth tugged it up in order to fully cover the dress that was protected beneath it.
So she'd found the letter. The bridge back to her had a solid foundation. Now, he had to build the rest.
Dear Bones,
I have prayed a lot in my life. You know how deep my faith runs. But, I don't think it's ever been as much as during the hours you and Hodgins spent in that car.
I have lost soldiers, friends, family. But knowing you were dying with every breath you took, and that a part of me was dying right along with you, is a different kind of hell.
Later, when I prayed, I thanked God that I didn't have to walk through the hell that would come if you were no longer here.
Love wasn't a word I was using when I thought of you, not yet. But I knew losing you would destroy something in me I had no hope of regaining.
I understand, just a little, how those two weeks you thought I was dead must have felt to you. I only had hours of fearing I'd never see you again. I can't apologize enough for what happened all those years ago.
I still feel that way, that losing you would destroy me. The difference is that love is a word I get use everyday. I love you, Bones, and I'm so glad I didn't lose the chance to say those words to you and to hear you say them to me.
We're struggling right now, Bones. I know you are aware of it, can feel it between us. I just want you to know that it's okay. I'm here for you, when you're ready to talk to me.
Love,
Booth
He folded it in thirds, and being a superstitious man he put it in the exact same pocket of her bag. Following his nightly routine of checking locks, door, and children, he arrived in the bedroom to see Brennan already beneath the sheets.
"The Pittsburgh Flyers are playing," she said with a grin, motioning toward the television she'd finally allowed him to put in the bedroom.
"Philadelphia," he corrected with a good natured groan. "But I think you know that, considering you're wearing my Flyers t-shirt right now."
"You'd let me have it, you love me," she said casually, but Booth took it as anything but.
"More than anything," he said, stopping in front of her. "I love you more than anything." His voice challenged her to deny it, challenged her to say he felt anything less for her.
But she nodded. "I know that, Booth," she said, her voice deepening. Looking away for a second, she blinked hard then looked back at him. "I've never doubted that," she whispered.
Knowing with a glance that she wasn't ready to share whatever was tangling her in knots, Booth let the moment pass. "I'll go get ready and then you and I can enjoy the game together."
Normally, she'd read a scientific paper when he was watching a game, but instead she gave him an unsure smile. "I think I would enjoy having you explain the rules of the game to me again."
"And every time my team scores, I get to remove a piece of your clothing?" he suggested. He'd already seen the Flyers had two goals. Considering she only wore one item of clothing beneath the shirt, he'd achieve his goal of a naked Bones if she agreed.
Brennan, not one to lose quite so easily, tilted her head. "Only if when the other team scores, I get to put a piece of clothing back on."
Booth, quickly devising several ways to get past that, agreed easily. Brennan narrowed her eyes at him, wondering why he'd given in.
The Flyers ended up losing four goals to two.
She slept in two pair of socks that night.
Dear Bones,
Did you know Gordon Wyatt was the first person to acknowledge I loved you because I loved you. Not because of a brain tumor or anything that came with it. He acknowledged my feelings for you were real and deep. That was what we were talking about when you showed up in the kitchen of the restaurant where he worked. He was correct. You were all I needed to find my balance again.
Sweets showed my scans of my brain and told me my feelings were because of the dream or alternate reality.
Cam told me I had to be sure, that to be less was to destroy the friendship we had.
I knew and it wasn't surgery or some dream or a story you read to me that caused it.
You caused it, because you were you. And that you was all I've ever wanted.
I don't regret anything that's happened between us, Bones, neither the good, nor the bad. All of it brought us together in the end. Most roads aren't straight after all.
What I do regret is hurting you, lying to you, shutting you out when I was struggling. Like you're struggling now. I will love you no matter what you need to say to me, you just need to say the words.
I love you,
Booth
The text showed up before lunch. He was in the middle of a meeting and assumed she was texting about a case. Sliding to open the phone, Booth immediately lost track of what was going on at work.
"I love you," the message read.
Despite knowing he should stay in the meeting, Booth jumped to his feet and waved his phone in the air. "Body," he said abruptly, rushing out the door, ignoring the skeptical glances. Most of his fellow agents knew how he felt about these staff meetings and figured he'd just made up some excuse to get out of there.
Most of them wouldn't dare work with his wife, but they were still jealous of his excuse.
In order to make his story believable, Booth headed toward his SUV and pulled out into traffic, only to pull over on a side street several blocks up. Finally where no one would bother him, he pulled the phone from his pocket.
The texts he'd received from her lately had been work related and he was relieved to get one that was more personal.
Booth looked out the window as several government vehicles went past before bringing his attention back to what was in his hand. He needed to keep reading so he could head back into the office and deal with the lecture that would come from leaving the meeting. It wouldn't take them long to figure out there wasn't actually a body.
I wasn't sure I would ever say the words to you until you put your hand on my pregnant stomach that night and looked at me. Until then, I didn't understand that words could be a gift, too.
We're okay. I just needed time, but not space.
Snorting in amusement that Bones never shortened anything, even in a text, Booth rubbed his hand over his face.
Should he text her back or leave it alone? She said she just needed time, which implied to him that she no longer needed it. Should he go pick her up, or wait until work was over?
He sat in his vehicle a long time, staring at everything and nothing. So long that lunch was over before he put the SUV in drive and headed back toward the office.
He arrived home to find Bones had beat him there. In fact, she was the earliest she'd been in weeks. However, there was a knot in his stomach he just couldn't shake and his gut was telling him her being home wasn't necessarily a good thing.
"Hey, Bones," he said casually, throwing his keys into the bowl. "Is something going on at the lab?"
He watched her square her shoulders before she turned her face to him. If he wasn't mistaken, Booth was sure she'd been crying at some point during the afternoon.
Steps slow and careful as he walked toward her, Booth frantically tried to figure out what was going on. "Are you okay, Bones?" he asked, not even trying to hide the concern in his voice. What could possibly have happened to cause the strongest woman he knew to start crying?
"You have to stop," she said softly. There was a bottle of wine on the table and a half full glass in front of her. For a moment, Booth was reliving the night he came home from work to find her with a glass in her hand, after he'd broken their engagement. He'd been sure she'd been about to leave him and he wondered if that's what the problem was now.
Not that it mattered. He wasn't going anywhere, no matter what she said. Never again.
"Stop what?" he asked.
She shook her head and took a drink from the glass. Booth was fairly confident she wasn't drunk, but that didn't make him feel any better. "Stop worrying about me, about us," Brennan said softly. "I'm just mad," she paused and considered what she'd just said. "Mad isn't the right word," she admitted. "But I can't find the right word to describe what I'm feeling."
If the situation had been different, Booth would have smiled at her obvious frustration at not being able to find the right word to describe anything. But this wasn't the time for laughter. "Are you mad at me?" he asked. He came forward and also poured himself a glass of wine, just to have something to do with his hands.
"I know I need to talk to you, Booth," she shrugged. "I don't know how."
"You're talking now," he said to her. "Anything you say to me isn't worse than what's going on, Bones. I can feel the wall between us. I don't like it."
Nodding, she ran a finger around the stem of her glass. "I just needed some time, Booth. Everything that's occurred, all the adjustments here and there, all the changes. I needed some time to think rationally about things."
"Is that what you've been doing, the nights you came home late?" Booth asked, already suspecting where she'd been spending her time.
"The quiet and routine of Limbo allows me time to think," she explained unnecessarily.
"I once told Sweets that he needed to work into things with you," he said, smiling a little at the memory of his friend. "I know we've been through a lot the last few years, most of it because of me," he added bitterly. "I know I'm the reason you are feeling this way. I just want to fix it." He took a large swallow of the wine before placing the glass back down on the table. "I don't want to lose you."
Her eyes widened at the confession, then narrowed in annoyance. "If you ever think I would leave you…do you doubt us, doubt me like that?"
"I've never doubted us, not ever," Booth snapped. "Not even during the worst of times, like the summer after Pelant threatened me, threatened us. I knew there was a way and we would find it."
"I'm scared," Brennan said suddenly, knowing the time had come to say it to him. "Or at least I was. I was scared every time you walked out that door. I had to trust you weren't lying about where you were going and what you were going to do. I found myself doubting you for just a moment, and that made me angry." She also stood and paced away from him before turning back. "I love you, but…,"
"You don't trust me," he interrupted. First the gambling, then walking out on her that morning to go help his brother and almost not coming home. He pinched the bridge of his nose. When you laid it out like that, he certainly couldn't blame her.
"I trust you now," she whispered. "But for a little while there, I started to wonder if I should. But we went back to our old lives, you to the FBI and me to the Jeffersonian and the center started to feel solid again. Not that you can touch the center, but-"
He waved his hand. "I know what you mean, Bones." Sighing, he picked up the wine, emptied the glass and put it in the sink. "What can I do?"
She smiled and something inside of him relaxed. "You're already doing it. Evidence shows that you aren't lying to me." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled three carefully folded notes free. "I remember all of these times, and many more, too. When I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to talk to you about this, your notes gave me the strength to keep working through the fear and the anger."
"And now?" he asked. "Are you still angry with me? Because it's okay if you are," he was quick to reassure her. "I'd totally understand if you were. I made some mistakes. A lot of mistakes, actually."
Her answer was a shake of her head. "I still worry, but I always will. I love you, Booth. I knew I could work on my feelings because I knew you'd let me. There is a safety in that I appreciate. I didn't mean to shut you out, but sometimes, for me, it's the only way."
Holding out both hands, he waited until Brennan put hers in his. "I am sorry, Bones. For all of it."
"Don't be. It's really okay, Booth. I don't believe you'd risk this, risk us, again. And if you gamble again, we'll work through that, too."
His hands tightened involuntarily around hers. "I won't gamble again, Bones."
"You don't know that, Booth. And if you do, I'll be here for you. I don't want you to worry about that."
He wanted to deny her words, but couldn't, there was always a risk. But knowing she always had his back kept that risk to a minimum.
"Now," she said, "I believe your team played an afternoon game today. I checked the score and I believe your team scored a significant number of points."
One eyebrow arched as he quickly scanned what she was wearing. "Then maybe you'd like to continue our bet from the other night?"
Both hands still in his, she walked backward toward the bedroom, pulling him with her. "Only if you lose some clothing as well."
He didn't even have to think about it. "Deal."