Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed and returned feeling romantic and happy.
Author Notes: Inspired to write something a little more immediately romantic and with less dialogue than Connected To You! Timeframe for this would be towards the end of season one.
The title was inspired by watching the Stage version of Dirty Dancing in London's West End recently where the song was performed so beautifully by a guy named Wayne Smith that he deserved a standing ovation in the middle of the show! Beautiful song – appropriate lyrics for this fic!
The slight case details in this fic are partly inspired by my cousin's Maddy's recent work on an archaeological dig, where 14th century bodies were discovered buried closely together, including a mother cradling her child.
In The Still Of The Night
By Rianne
"Seeley Booth, you better not be bringing her a new case," Angela's portentous voice floated down from the mezzanine floor, slowing Booth in his tracks.
He spun to search out the woman attached to the voice.
Finding Angela Montenegro, looking very un-squinty; beautiful in fact, dressed to impress, jacket on, purse in her grasp.
Glaring down at him.
He played wounded.
Palm to his chest.
Used his best 'who me?' eyes.
Until he could hold it no longer and the grin broke.
"I'm watching you," she shot down, her finger pointed viciously him. "She hasn't slept in nearly two days. If you set her brain twitching on a case again, I will personally hunt you down and kill you."
He was lucky that she wasn't on the same level as him as that single digit would probably be stabbing into his chest right now.
He held his smile.
Until she broke into a grin too.
Women could never resist his charm.
Well except for Bones.
"I promise," he reassured her. Lifting a palm in surrender. Knowing just how true her words were. And more importantly how much she cared for her friend and colleague Temperance Brennan.
"Have a good night Angela," He projected up to her, waving the envelope he held in his grip, watching her leave, hearing the faint click of her heels ebb away, before he moved on in the direction of Brennan's office.
He held in his hand quite the opposite to what Angela suspected.
He held something which would bring closure to their work over the last few days and nights.
As he moved through the deserted Lab his footsteps were the loudest sound, their dull echo slowing as he approached Brennan's office.
The glass walls allowed little privacy, and extended into the offices too.
Bones' office was highlighted, a beacon of light, illuminated by the single desk lamp.
She was haloed in the lingering glow.
An inviting mirage.
His attention drawn.
Watching captivated as her hair turned into a curtain of red fire as she moved before him, running her fingers through the strands, dragging them back from her face, looking distracted, and tired, as she frowned into the computer screen.
His gentle knock against the doorframe startled her.
The hair fell in a swish.
"Booth?"
Her voice was husky in the quiet, as if it was the first time she had spoken in a while.
"Another case?" She asked, straightening her shoulders, restraining her hair behind her ears, and revealing that the usual flare was missing from her eyes.
He shook his head, taking a hesitant step into the office.
"Did Angela send you?" She had one eyebrow crooked in guilty accusation.
Her words an admittance that she knew she was way past time to go home.
He smiled with a faint shake of his head.
She relaxed a little.
He held the envelope out to her in silence.
Expression encouraging her to take it.
She did.
Eyes watching him warily as her fingers worked it open, before her gaze turned upon the photograph revealed within.
He watched her eyes dance over the image.
Heard the sweet intake of breath, before she sagged back into the desk chair.
"You found them," he told her softly.
Her eyes lifted for only a moment, but they swam with emotion.
"They had each other, even at the end." He confirmed.
Her face dipped again, as she lowered the photograph to the desk.
He noticed the slight tremble in her fingers, before the image in the photograph captivated him again.
Just as it had an hour ago when it had arrived by courier with a heartfelt thank you.
Two skeletons buried side-by-side.
One male, one female.
Curled towards one another.
Phalanges still intertwined.
Bones in love.
"Thank you, Booth," she murmured.
A small smile ghosting across her lips.
"You can rest now Temperance." His voice was gentle, and his use of her first name was a surprise to both of them.
It sounded nice on his lips.
Her eyes rose rapidly to his.
Clear, and questioningly blue.
"I..." her voice caught and she looked away to hide the emotion from him.
Distress creasing her forehead.
"You need to try," he whispered.
He watched her mouth move soundlessly, as if she were starting words and changing her mind at the very last moment.
Stopping when his hand reached out to her.
Her dazed expression watching as his palm curved around her shoulder, guiding her to stand.
He saw the flare of panic cross her features.
Saw how she tried to disguise it.
Looked to her sofa and changed his mind.
He guided her there instead.
Encouraging her to sit, sliding down beside her.
Their shoulders touched.
Her fingers fidgeted in her lap.
Twisting together, separating, forever in motion.
Restless.
Lost.
"When I was in Iraq," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "sleep, it was something of a luxury."
He had her attention; he didn't have to look at her to confirm that, he knew.
Those restless fingers had stilled.
"The nights in the desert, they were so quiet. All I could hear was the replay of shells and explosions in my head."
He took a breath, uncomfortable about the memory, but knowing that sharing helped, a fragile release of pain.
He could feel her tired gaze on him.
He shifted, stretching his right arm along the back of the chair, enfolding her.
"Close your eyes," he whispered, turning to face her.
She didn't.
Typical Bones.
There was a crease between her brows.
She pressed her lips into a line.
Then with an intake of breath and she closed them.
A delicate web of trust spinning between them.
"Lie back," he instructed gently.
She slowly complied, resting her head against the crook of his arm.
Exhaustion wearing away at her barricades.
"I used to sneak away, into the desert," he told her, his voice soothing and slow. "I would pick a spot, stretch out."
He saw her eyes flutter open, and the fingertips of the hand slung across her shoulders nudged her until she closed them again.
But she smiled.
A tiny smile.
A giant victory.
Once she was still again he continued.
"I would lie there and stare up at the night sky. You should have seen those stars." He murmured, unable to restrain the residual awe that still clung to the memory.
"Out there, looking up at all that expanse, all that beauty. There was quiet. Even inside of me."
Her breathing was slowing.
The warm weight of her against him increasing as she relaxed.
"Feelings don't have to be rational," his words breezed over her hair, stirring the delicate strands. The scent of coconut filled his senses.
"What you feel, it is important to feel it, it isn't right or wrong. It just is."
Her breathing was deeper now. Growing even.
"You just need to unearth what helps you to find the quiet inside you."
He gazed at her.
At the way her heavy lashes lay in repose. The shimmer of her eyelids.
Her makeup was minimal; he liked that, it wasn't something he usually tended to notice, unless her lips shone.
His gaze fell to her gently parted lips.
He swallowed.
She was sleeping now, he was almost sure of it.
Made brave by that knowledge, he reached out.
Fingertips brushing away the stray strands of hair that had tumbled across her face.
Senses reeling as the gentle edge of his finger absorbed the ephemeral softness in the curve of her cheek.
His eyes closed instinctively, as he regained his resolve.
She murmured, soothed by sleep.
The contented sound a beautiful thing to hear from her.
She was so pretty.
All her pretense gone.
Leaving her vulnerable and stronger than he had ever seen her.
He smiled down at her.
Letting out a thankful sigh.
His eyes growing wide when the motion of his sigh caused her to stir once more.
Turning into him.
Her face into his chest.
Her arm sliding across his stomach.
The light touch of her delicate fingers curving to the convex of him.
Seeking out his warmth.
Settling with an intimate sigh of her own.
His breath had caught, his heart had picked up.
The words of an old song coming to him out of nowhere.
'In the still of the night...'
Her closeness was soothing.
'I held you, held you tight...'
The surrounding sounds of equipment humming grew fainter, fading away.
Barely conscious, he drew her closer.
Enjoying the wonderful new sense of quiet within.
'Promise I'll never let you go... In the still of the night...'