Author's Note: This is a one-shot that was actually kind of inspired by Lady Antebellum's 'Need You Now', and something I couldn't get out of my head. For those of you that are reading Two Hearts, One Mind, the next chapter should be up shortly, but since school is starting, I don't actually know when that will be. I'm sorry for the wait! Brennan might be a little OOC. Constructive criticism and reviews are welcome!
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, Fox does, and this is just for fun.
She let her thumb ghost over the familiar keypad, watching as it fell to each digit of his phone number. How long had it been since she had called him last? Even though she figured that it wasn't in her best interest to count the days since their falling out, at least if she ever wanted to move on, she knew exactly how long it had been.
Seven months, three weeks, and two days. Five months, two weeks, and six days since they had last talked, and that had only been to finalize the severing of their partnership.
Within a week of that, a new case had come up, and she was working with a new agent, one who wasn't nearly as focused on either the case or her safety. He barely tolerated her team, and after realizing that the only way she would be able to participate in interrogations (if you could call it participating) would be behind the one-way mirror, she'd decided that she would be better off staying in the lab.
At least when she was there, she could work, and the sting of losing him wasn't so potent or strong as when she stepped into the FBI building, or the diner. She rarely went either of these places anymore, preferring avoidance to any chance encounter she might have with him.
Some would call this cowardice; after all, they were over. But she knew that if she saw him, she'd fall to pieces.
She was the one who'd ended it, ended the best thing she'd ever had. He'd been so angry, staring at her with an expression on his face that she'd never seen before, not even when he had told her horrible things from his past.
He looked as though someone had ripped his heart on his chest, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it. And she had been the one to do it.
For almost two months, they'd tried to make it work. Why they'd worked at something that was obviously going nowhere for so long, she didn't know, but she did know one thing. She'd never have a better partner than him, in the workplace or the bedroom.
They had dated for one year, two months, and three days. He had suggested that they move in together on their one-year anniversary, but she'd refused, stating that they should take a little more time to date before they jumped to the next step.
The truth was, with her father terminally ill, and Russ AWOL for most of that time in South Carolina, along with a crazy serial killer case they'd been trying to crack for months, she'd been too stressed out and emotionally drained to deal with anything else, especially moving in with him.
Exactly one month, two weeks, and three days after his invitation, her father passed away in a hospital in Bethesda. She was with him when it happened, and Booth was right by her side. And he stayed near her side for two more weeks, until she felt that she was going to be smothered if she didn't get some air soon.
So she'd ended it. She couldn't stand to have him watching over her every second of the day, watching for any changes in her mood so that he may swoop in and try to fix it, comfort her. She needed air, her own space, and yet he couldn't seem to understand it. She just needed a little bit of space, that was all.
But the feelings she'd been holding in over those two weeks, including her anger and annoyance over his constant surveillance, came out in a burst of emotion that didn't include telling him that she just needed her space. It culminated into something where she told to him to get out, to leave her alone, and that she never wanted to see him again.
She hadn't meant any of it, but after the door shut behind him, the lock clicking loudly in the silence that followed, she knew that he'd believed her. How could he not?
Yet, he'd shown up on Monday with a new case file. At first, she'd been surprised to see him, but one look in his eyes told her that he hadn't forgiven her. No, this wasn't about them anymore. It was about the victims, and that was all that mattered.
Or at least, that's what she hoped she'd been projecting. Hearing him call her Dr. Brennan in a cool, detached voice every time he wanted to get her attention was disconcerting, and although he still allowed her to come with him to interrogate suspects and visit the families of those they'd found, there was no more friendly banter, long looks, or discussions at the diner after a hard day. That had been thrown away with every last piece of their relationship.
Finally, she realized that she couldn't go on like this. She had to move on, and there was no way she could do that if she still worked with him.
So even though it almost killed her to do it, she sent in her request to be assigned to a new partner. He hadn't taken it well, all things considered, but she refused to back down. He eventually gave in, and now she worked with Agent Douglass, a pompous, self-centered man who fit perfectly into the description of the a-s-s that made up the last three letters of his last name.
But, here she was, at one-thirty in the morning, trying to talk herself both in and out of calling him. Half of her ached to see him again, or at least hear his voice, while the other half was just as happy to go back to bed and forget all about the one person who'd known her better than anyone.
What could it hurt? The half in favor of the idea piped up. The worst thing he could do is hang up on you.
Exactly, the other half replied, and it would dredge up feelings and emotions that had been buried long ago with no good conclusion.
Shaking her head to get the thoughts of her warring factions to clear, she made herself dial his number. Letting her thumb hover over the talk button, she waited nearly a full moment before pressing it down.
Staring down at the phone in her hand, which was now ringing on the other end, she couldn't believe that she had actually done this. Called him.
Well, there was no reason to use the past tense yet, she realized when she heard his voice come over the line. Due to the relatively far distance between her and the phone, the sound came out tinny and mechanical sounding, nothing like the rich tenor she was used to hearing.
Raising the phone to her ear just in time to hear him ask if anyone was there, she somehow found the breath to answer.
"Yes. Booth, it's me." There was a long silence on the other end, and for one horrified moment, she believed that he had hung up on her. See, the pessimistic side nagged, he did hang up on you. What's there to do now?
"Dr. Brennan. I don't understand why you're calling me in the middle of the night-" She cut him off, his cold, professional, detached voice making ice in her veins.
"Booth, it's me. I know you don't want to see me ever again, much less talk to me, but it's the middle of the night, and I'm calling you. Now, why the hell do you think that is?" She could feel the blood surging through her veins again; hear the pounding of her heart in her ears. She couldn't take this anymore.
Even though she knew that being angry with him would only make things worse, considering how she'd treated him all those months earlier, she couldn't stop herself.
"Do you think I'm calling you because I want to get back together or something? That I think you've forgiven me for the way I've treated you? Of course not. I wouldn't expect anyone to forgive that.
"I know you're still angry with me, Booth. And I get that, understand it, but I wouldn't be calling if…if I didn't-" This time it was he who cut her off.
"Is there anything you need?" The emotional detachment was still there, but the edge was gone. If nothing else, at least that was something.
"Yes. There is something I need." She paused, feeling her throat close up and one tear roll down her cheek. "You."
There was another pregnant pause, but this time she could his soft breathing on the other end, reassuring her that he was still there.
"Me?" He said, his voice full of disbelief and surprise. "Why would you need me? I thought you made it clear that you never wanted to see me again."
"I did, didn't I? Well, Booth, that was a long time ago. And I've become someone that I never thought I'd ever be again."
"Can't you just call Angela if you're lonely?" He suggested, the hard edge coming back into his voice as he read between her words. "Or some kind of old boyfriend that isn't me so that maybe you could 'satisfy your biological urges' some other way?"
"I'm not calling you because I want to 'satisfy my biological urges'!" She exclaimed into the phone. "Do you really think that I'm that shallow, Booth? That all I would want is a one-stand with you?! That's not why I'm calling!"
"Then why are you?" His tone was filled with faux patience now. "It would really make it easier if I knew."
This time, it was she who paused, her teeth working her bottom lip as she struggled to come up with a real reason why she needed to see him, call him. There hadn't really been a reason when she'd set out to contact him again. There was only a deep need that had settled deep in her chest that she couldn't get rid of.
But there was one thing, she realized, that would make her run to him.
"I'm scared, Booth." As soon as the words flew from her lips, she heard his breath hitch on the other end.
Even after she'd been kidnapped three months ago, even when Russ told her that he was moving out to California, even when Angela said that she was leaving for a six-week backpacking tour through Europe with Hodgins, she'd never once called him. He'd known about all of it, as Cam had kept him informed, but she'd never once contacted him.
And now, here she was, telling him she was scared. And it was true, she was scared.
Scared of losing the person he'd let her become. Scared of never finding anything like what she'd had with him again. Scared of never being able to see him, or his son, for the rest of her life.
"You're scared?" She could hear the obvious struggle in his voice; there was the side of him that still wanted to rush out and protect her, while the other wanted to keep her at a distance, to never let her in again. "Scared of what?"
"Scared of losing who I've become. Scared of never seeing you again." She took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to say would have an effect on him. "Scared of never being able to love someone again."
"You loved me?" He asked, his voice choked with emotion.
"I still do." She answered, a wry smile taking up its familiar place on her face.
"You still do? Then, why did you…" He trailed off, the silence stretching across the line.
"I think it would be better if I told you in person, Booth." She replied, pulling the blanket around her shoulders more closely to her.
"Well, when would that be? I mean, it couldn't be right now, unless you wanted to come over or something." When she heard these words, her heart fell. With her car in the shop, she couldn't drive herself over there right now, and he obviously didn't want to come over here. She supposed she could call a cab, but that would take too long, because by the time it arrived and she made it over to his place, at least an hour would have passed.
"Does tomorrow sound all right? My car's in the shop, so I can't come over now. We could meet at the diner." She winced to hear how pleading her voice sounded. She could feel, deep in her chest, how desperately she wanted to see him again, and she was willing to do anything to make this happen.
"Noon? I can pick you up, if you really need it."
"No, I can walk." She answered, realizing that this would be the first time in months she would be taking a lunch break.
"I guess I'll see you there, then."
"Yeah." She hung up the phone, and setting it on the coffee table in front of her, stood. The thought of seeing him again after all these months was making her stomach twist into knots, and she hadn't slept well in four days. If she didn't get some sleep now, he was going to notice, and she didn't need his concern about that on top of every other emotion she-and certainly he, as well-would likely be feeling.
Crawling beneath the sheets of her queen-sized bed, she was suddenly buffeted with a strong sense of loss. If she turned over, and pressed her face into the pillow, she might be able to catch a hint of his scent that still lingered there after all this time.
How much time had they spent in here, anyway? Talking? Laughing? Sharing things that they shared with no one else?
Making love?
She didn't know, couldn't even begin to count up the hours. They'd spent more time here than at his place, that was for sure. So much so, in fact, that, if you'd come over when they were still them and peeked into her bathroom, you could spot an extra toothbrush and shampoo taking up space beside her own.
And if you'd looked through the drawers and closet, you would have found some of his clothes squished up next to hers, a few of his crazy pairs of socks lined up neatly in an empty drawer.
They'd been there because occasionally they woke up too late for him to go back to his own apartment to get dressed. Plus, there had been something about getting ready alongside him; it was awfully domestic, yes, but it was comforting the way she'd make coffee and he'd make her toast, spread lightly with a thin layer of peanut butter, with an occasional banana sliced on top, because he knew that toast and jam made her think of having the flu, as it was the first thing her mother used to make her when she was feeling better.
"Why did I ever let that go?" She murmured aloud in the silence of the room, her face buried in the pillow. "Why did I ever let him go?"
The sobs came then, washing over her in waves as she rolled over and sat up, the pillow clutched to her chest.
"How could I have been such an idiot?" She choked out, even though she knew that it was completely illogical, and irrational, to be talking to an empty room. "I was so afraid…that he was going to leave…and I should have been more afraid of myself."
Eventually, the tears began to cease, and she lay back, arms still wrapped around 'his' pillow. Sleep soon overtook her, and she was swept away into a dream that was exactly how things used to be.
At least in her sleep, then, she could be with him. And if he never wanted anything to do with her after tomorrow, there would always be the dreams, where they were still 'two halves of a whole' and 'the center'.
Even if that meant turning waking up into something she forced herself to do.
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She watched as he stepped out of the SUV and slammed the door behind him. She stood on the other side of the street, the cars rushing past her filled with people who all had somewhere more important to be than sitting at some stoplight in the middle of Washington, D.C.
The pedestrian crossing signal across from her was glowing white, the silhouette of a person lit up in it. She should have been crossing the street, walking towards him, but instead found her feet frozen to the sidewalk in front of her.
The sight of him was exhilarating. It had been so long since she had laid eyes on his tall, well-muscled figure.
His head was bowed as he stood on the sidewalk in front of the diner, looking down at the cell phone he held in his hand. He appeared to be dialing someone's number, and when her phone vibrated in her pocket a few seconds later, her suspicions were validated.
She fished the phone out of her pocket, pausing to take in the sight of his name flashing up on the screen. 'Booth', it read, and she sighed.
"Hello?" While she had been staring at him, and her phone had been ringing, the signal had changed, and she was stuck with a red hand.
"Where are you? It's after noon, Brennan." Her breath hitched at the sound of the name, and when she looked over at him, she saw that he was peering in the windows of the diner, obviously trying to locate her.
"I'll be there in a second. I'm just across the street." She saw his head snap to the left quickly, and their eyes locked as she finally crossed the street.
"Hey." She said softly when she reached him. He was staring at her, cell phone still clutched in hand. She let her gaze drift away from his, and shifted from one foot to the other.
He was still looking at her as her eyes darted around and she struggled to come up with something to say under his intense scrutiny. How was she supposed to address him now? As colleagues? An acquaintance? He was, and would always be, more than that.
"Maybe we should get something to eat." She suggested, forcing herself to meet his gaze again. He nodded once in reply, and she sighed with relief. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as she'd expected.
Or it could be, she thought, as she watched him flip through the menu. They both knew that this was only so he wouldn't have to look at her, come up with something to say, because they knew the menu almost better than the backs of their own hands. And she was letting him get away with it.
"Booth." She said, reaching across the table to place her hand on his arm. She realized this was a mistake after he glared at her over the top of the menu. She pulled her hand back, feeling almost as though he had slapped it away. "Sorry. Maybe we could talk?"
"How about after we order?" He replied, his voice dripping with contempt. His face was once again buried in the menu, so he didn't notice when she turned away, chastened.
"Yeah. That would be a good idea." Her voice sounded small, weak, to her ears, but he didn't turn his attention from the menu. There wasn't any indication that he'd even heard her.
Finally, a waitress came over with a "Wow! We haven't seen you two here in a while!" as a greeting, which only served to cause her to wince, and him to sink even farther into his anger.
They ordered, and he suggested, cold as ice, that perhaps they should wait until their food came so that they would be guaranteed no interruptions. She'd agreed with him again, and with that, he turned his head to stare out the window, his face locked in a nearly blank expression. The only indication that he was feeling anything less than content was the clenching of his jaw.
She sighed, for what had to be the fifth time in only twice as many minutes, and let her eyes roam over the small restaurant. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and she was beginning to think that this was a really bad idea.
Their food arrived, and they both began to quietly eat, only the sound of chewing breaking the silence between them. She'd ordered a salad and coffee; lately it seemed as though her normal cup in the morning could no longer hold her through the day as it had.
He'd ordered his normal cheeseburger and fries, and she suddenly felt the urge to steal one of them as she had so many times. But the stony set of his face and eyes kept her hands on her own plate.
When the plates were clean, and he had asked the waitress for a slice of their cherry pie, she spoke up again.
"Booth, I have something I really need to tell you." She began, meeting his gaze. "And I need you to listen to me."
"Why should I listen to you? The last time I listened to you, you were telling me that you never wanted to see me again."
"Look, I know that I said some horrible things to you-" At this, he scoffed, and turned his head, but she continued. "-but I didn't mean them."
"You didn't mean them? I'm sorry, but I'm finding that a little hard to believe at the moment."
"I know that it sounds…well, unbelievable, I suppose-"
"You suppose?"
"Booth, if you don't stop interrupting, you won't be able to hear what I have to say."
"What if I don't want to hear it?" He said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "What if I feel like I shouldn't even give you the time of day, much less listen to you babble on about how you didn't really mean the things you said?"
"I'm not babbling!" She exclaimed, and he shut his mouth. She paused, but he waved her on with a 'Get on with it' expression on his face.
"It was so much to deal with. My father…dying, and Russ being…well, hard to communicate with, and you, Booth. You were smothering me. I felt I couldn't breathe, and even though you weren't always there, it felt like you were because you always kept calling to check up on me. And all I meant to say was that I needed my space. I just needed some space.
"But that's not what it came out as, is it? No, it was more that I hated you, and that I never wanted to see you again. And I didn't mean any of it." She stopped talking, and looked up at him. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "I really didn't mean any of it."
"How am I supposed to trust you now, Bo-Brennan?" He asked, and she noticed his slip-up; how easily her old nickname almost slipped from between his lips.
"You almost called me Bones." She whispered, shrugging off his question.
"Yeah. Despite the way I feel about everything, it's still hard not to. But really, how am I supposed to trust you now?" He leaned back towards her, a sad smile playing at his lips.
"I don't know." She replied, slightly shaken by both his close proximity and the intense way he was looking at her. "But I can understand if you never want to see me again."
"Don't you have any idea what these months were like for me? What it was like not to wake up next to you every morning, to go to work and know that I wouldn't see you there like I have for the better part of six and a half years?
"It was horrible. I tried to tell myself that I hated you, that I never wanted to see you again, that you didn't deserve me after all of those things you said. But nothing worked. Everywhere I went, I was reminded of you, and there was nothing I could do about it. I loved you, and I still love you, but I don't think I can trust you anymore. How do I know that if you blow up on me again, it won't just be that you need your space?"
"Maybe I could earn it back." She suggested, an idea growing in her brain. "Maybe we could begin, possibly, working together again. I'm sure that Deputy Director Cullen wouldn't mind re-instating you as the official liaison to the Jeffersonian; working with Douglass doesn't bring out the best in me or my colleagues and our solve rate is half of what ours used to be. He also doesn't investigate half as well as you do. Would that be of any interest to you at all?"
"It's sounds like an idea, but-" He hesitated for a moment, briefly breaking his gaze from hers. "I'd have to think about it."
"Yes, of course you do. Maybe you could call, with your decision?" She asked, as he stood and threw some money down on the table.
"Yeah, I'll do that." He paused, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful, Brennan."
"I will." With that, he turned and exited the restaurant. She watched as he made his way over to the SUV, climbed in, and drove away.
A few moments later, she threw her own money down on the table and rose. She had to get back to work, and if nothing else, at least she knew that he knew that she never really meant any of those things she'd said.
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It was the next Monday. She was sitting in her office when she heard the familiar footsteps echo through the lab.
"How did you get past Angela?" She asked when he appeared in her office doorway. "I thought she would have ambushed you."
"Luckily for me, she's still in God-knows-where with Hodgins." She noticed the case file, and putting down her pen, she stood and reached for her coat.
"Oh, right, I forgot." She smiled sheepishly, and she saw that he was fighting a smile of his own.
"How could you forget? She's your best friend." The smile had won the battle, she could see, because it was taking up its familiar place on his face.
"Paperwork is very mind-numbing." She hadn't realized how much she'd actually missed this until now. The light banter, easy conversation. "You decided to work with me again, I see." She gestured to the manilla folder in his hand.
"Yes. In what better way could I look out for you than working with you?" His smile faded, and his eyes grew serious.
"You haven't forgiven me yet, have you?"
"No, but I like to think that soon, I'll be able to. At least, I hope I will. And what better way to get there than having you help me catch bad guys?"
"So, maybe we could start over?" She asked, standing in front of him, awkwardly holding her coat.
"Right. Bones, we have a case." He said, holding up the manilla folder.
"All right. I'll get my things." She slipped into her coat, and exited her office, pleased to find that he followed her out without so much as a second's hesitation. They still had a long way to go on this journey of theirs, but at least they'd begun it, right?
And neither really knew where they were going to end up this time. After all, it's not very often that you get a second chance at something as big as this.