It was 4:42 a.m. and sleep was evading her. Images of Vincent lying in a pool of his own blood with Booth's hands trying to keep his life from spilling out flashed through her mind. He was there one-minute asking, begging her not to make him leave, and the next gone. She replaced Booth's hands with her own, desperate to see the light return to Vincent's eyes. She was in shock. Obviously, she knew he was gone, but her mind refused to accept it for the briefest of moments. As she lay on the couch in Booth's apartment she could not keep the memories of the day from flooding her mind. Unable to lie there any longer, she sat up, peeling the covers back and placing her feet on the cold floor. She eased up from the couch and the floor creaked under her weight. She headed for Booth's room, easily navigating his familiar apartment in the dark. She reached the bedroom door, and slowly eased it open, so as not to make any sudden movements for fear that Booth would be startled. Despite her stealth, as she stepped in the room, Booth was up with the gun in his hand, cocked and pointed directly at her before she had a chance to say his name. Her hands flew up, even with her shoulders, in surrender. She opened her mouth to say his name, but all that came out was "I – I'm sorry." Booth quickly realizing his mistake, but not quite capable yet of forming coherent sentences, is still holding the gun in place. "No, No I'm sorry. Did you hear something?", he asks as rational thought returns and he moves to get out of the bed. "No" was all she could get out, still rattled by the gun pointed at her. "Do you want me to put the gun away?"
"Yes." He places the gun on the nightstand, still loaded just in case. "Okay. What's wrong?" She watches him situate himself, before coming to the edge of the bed, where Booth is haphazardly perched. "He kept saying 'Don't make me go.'" A confused look crosses Booth's face as he trying to discern her meaning. "What?"
"Vincent. He was looking at me and he kept saying 'Don't make me leave.' He said that he loved being there. Why would he think that I'm the one making him leave? What kind of person am I?" He looked at her face, which was tired and tear streaked from the trauma of the day. He reaches over to where she is still standing and grabs her hand, pulling her to sit beside him on the bed. "No, come here. No no no no. Bones, you've got that all wrong. You got it all wrong." She began to argue in a matter of fact way. "No, I – I heard him. You did too. 'Don't make me leave.' That's what he said."
"He wasn't talking to you." She looked at him incredulously. "I was the only one there. And you. He wasn't - He wasn't talking to you."
"He was talking to God. He didn't want to die."
"No. Vincent was like me Booth. He was an atheist."
"Okay then he was talking to the universe then. He didn't want to go. He wasn't ready Bones. He wanted to stay." He watched as she took a second to process, and the tears began to flow. "Well if there was a God, then he would've let Vincent stay here with us." It broke Booth's heart to see her this way. "That's not how it works."She said nothing, but Booth knew what was going on in her mind. "I don't know what that means", she didn't have to say it for Booth to know that she did not understand. Tears continued to spill onto her cheeks and pool around her chin, and down her neck."Can I just…" her whisper was barely audible, as she leaned into his shoulder. "Yeah, that's why I'm here." Booth laid back onto the bed, taking her with him as she settled on his chest. He let her cry while he held her, gently rubbing her back and arm. Occasionally he would shush her and whisper things to comfort her. Booth didn't bother to look at the time, but he knew by the ache in his back, they had been laying like this for a while. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or not, afraid to wake her for fear that the crying might start again. He lifted his head off the pillow which sent a searing pain down his spine, to try to catch a glimpse of her face. She was asleep. He could tell by the little wet spot that appeared to be drool on his shirt. He tried to hold back a snicker as he realized the impervious Dr. Brennan was drooling on his chest. He watched her face as it twisted into a grimace. She appeared to be dreaming. He could no longer hold his head up to watch her. He let his held fall back and the sudden motion startled Bones.
She raised just enough to look around. It was still pitch black in Booth's bedroom so she couldn't have been asleep long. She wasn't sure if it was the effects of the days' events or just the sheer exhaustion from the crying that made her feel so disoriented. She turned her face towards Booth, whom had not said a word. She knew he was awake, because he had been caressing her lower back with his rough thumb. His thumb was just barely underneath his over-sized FBI sweatshirt he had given her to wear. Something about the rhythmic circles his thumb was making, made her stomach tighten. She inched forward, slowing searching for his face. She liked that it was total darkness. She knew her face had to be centimeters from his because she could feel his breath on her lips, hot and slow. It felt like the world had stopped, it was so silent.
Booth was frozen in place, afraid to move as if it would scare Bones away. He waited to see what her next move would be. He couldn't explain it, but his stomach was tightening in a way that made everything feel surreal. It was the same feeling he would get when he looked up at the stars. It made him feel so small and seemed liked the world had stopped turning. He felt her move forward and knew she was extremely close to his face. He steadied his breathing as he would when looking through the scope of his rifle, slowing his wildly beating heart. It felt as if all his senses were heightened, the pain in his back almost forgotten. He realized at the same time she did, that she had been holding her breath. She exhaled as her lips hit his with a force that should have hurt, but felt more like relief. It was the dam breaching, flooding the valley below. Relief and a million other emotions overwhelmed his senses. His hands were now fully underneath the sweatshirt as he splayed them across Bones back, feeling her soft skin in contrast to his rough palms.
She had one hand on his chest as she gripped a handful of his shirt. It was then she realized it was damp. She had a fleeting thought that it was either tears, drool, or a mixture of both. She didn't care, she just knew the shirt had to go. She began to sit up and Booth followed, unwilling to let their lips part. Once they were up right Bones' hands began their exploratory search for the bottom hem of his shirt. They mapped every muscle and curve as they made their way down Booth's abdomen. She quickly grabbed the hem and pulled it over his head. It was all happening in a rush, but yet seemed to be in slow motion at the same time. She knew that logically that was not possible, but there was a lot about everything that was happening right now that made no sense to her.
Booth was sure that this was a dream, even though he was also pretty sure he had not slept at all. The feeling of Bones in his arms had been too good to miss any of it by sleeping. He could sleep later. He was sure that this would never happen again. He was sure that they would get up in the morning and never speak of this again though the thought of that was literally painful. The feeling of his shirt being hastily pulled over his head snapped him back to the moment. He realized this was real, as her cold hands were making their way up his chest. Their lips were still moving together, never leaving the other. He moved them toward the center of the bed, as they had not yet moved only sat up from their earlier position on the edge of the bed. Once they were in the center, he slowly rolled them over so he was hovering over her, now with both hands on the bed on either side of her shoulders. He fully extended his arms, their lips parting for the first time, only because he had to breathe.
She hooked her arms under his to reach around and touch his shoulders. She let her hands run all the way down his body to his perfectly sculpted waist line. There she traced the v shape of his hips lightly with her fingertips, causing a shiver to run through Booth. She found herself mapping the scars and previous injuries she knew he had since she had thoroughly examined his x-rays. She made her way back to his shoulders and pulled him down to her. She wanted to feel the weight of his body on her. It was comforting. She could not rationalize how Booth felt to her. It was the same feeling she got when she was in the lab. Like this is where she was supposed to be. It was a like a feeling she could hardly remember from her childhood when her family was still together and happy. It was warm and defied logic. She wasn't sure, but she thought this is what home should feel like. He was currently kissing her collar bone from one side to the next, and then making his way back to her lips, making any thought impossible.
He was relishing in the closeness of their bodies. His sweatshirt had ridden up her stomach allowing their skin to touch. That almost sent him over the edge. He propped himself up on one elbow allowing his other hand to explore freely. He slipped his hand under the sweatshirt and let it wonder. As a result, Bones reached down and pulled the sweatshirt over her head and tossed it to the side. Booth put his full weight on Bones so that the entire upper half of their bodies were touching skin to skin. This sent them both into a frenzy, desperately needing to be as close as physically possible. The rest of their clothes were quickly shed and pushed to the foot of the bed. There was no rationalizing, no thoughts. It was years of tension being released all at once. It was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced. Booth knew that they could never go back to just being partners.
I just wanted to thank you all for the reviews and helpful tips. This is clearly my first story and I have no idea what I am doing. I have tried to rectify some of my spacing issues. Hopefully that will make the story flow a little better. I really wanted to capture the characters, and give my version of what happened that night. I wanted it to be sweet and tasteful. I realize that it is not very creative, as I tried to stay as close to the show as possible and answer some of my own questions about what happened after the fade out. Again, thank you for the tips and encouragement.