He had a way of getting under her skin. Completely and utterly under her skin. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. If anything it was always warm…welcomed. Perhaps even a highlight. Of course, this wasn't something she'd become aware of until after he had left her. If him choosing love could even be considered leaving her. If she was being honest, she had left him first and foremost. And on more than one occasion.
How many times had she chosen predictable stability over the hazy unsure picturesque future he had offered her? Enough times to ensure she should not have felt the sting of his choice. She should not have expected any other outcome. Logic dictated he would choose safety and peace over their dangerous, tumultuous, painful relationship. She had felt childish expecting anything other than rejection.
She should have known after all, logic had a way of failing her through him. Though she'd never admit it out loud, he had a way of defying logic.
Because they were seeing the future. Writing numbers and words on scraps of paper and sending them to the universe. She had thought the gesture silly, and yet she did not contest it.
She replayed his brand of logic in her head. "If I wanted something really, really bad, I'd write it down on a piece of paper and I'd burn it. It was like a spell. It was bound that my wish would come true."
He was a man full of superstition and wonder and unfailing faith. If he believed in spells, then so could she. At least for a moment. Long enough for her chosen future to disintegrate into ashes; to become a wish. Wishes offered a lot to the unscientific mind. They presented the unknown; the promise of contentment. They offered everything she could not guarantee. But for the first time in her life, she did not want science. She didn't want rules and regulations. Logic served no place in matters of the heart. That was something he had taught her. At least, she thought that that was something he tried to teach her. She hoped it wasn't a lesson she had learned too late.
She found it strange that only a few moments ago she spoke of remaining imperviousness within her; as she watched her wish turn to dust it felt like her own limitations burned up with it. All at once her date made perfect sense. She watched the w on "now" fade into nothing. She was ready. Perhaps she had always been. From the moment she had met him, she'd been unable to erase him; unable to let go.
Even through murders and fights and evil and pain they managed to remain in tact if not marginally whole. Countries could not separate them. Not indefinitely. Not ever. All paths led her back to him. Any questions she had about love or family or even friends she felt she could logically go to him and get an intelligent response. Perhaps his response would lack structure and contain more "heart" as he referred to it. What amazed her was that despite her disdain for answered unsought by fact, she was willing to accept his seemingly foolish answers. She was willing to even deny them as foolish and instead embrace them as his brand of logic. He had invoked in her the ability to accept change; something she had always struggled with.
It wasn't a question.
"You're staying at my place tonight."
She did not deny him. She set aside her normal responses. She contained her capabilities to protect herself. She put away her desire to prove she didn't need anyone else. It wasn't true anymore anyway. Besides, something in his eyes shut whatever protest she in mind down. They looked desperate. Logic dictated that if anyone's life was in danger it was his. If anybody needed protecting it was him. She put that thought to bed. If she focused anymore on the topic she felt she may get sick.
The drive to his apartment was quiet. Both were lost in the privacy their minds. She knew the pointlessness of contemplating the what if's. Yet, she found she could not help but let her mind wander in that direction. What if the bullet hadn't impacted in Vincent where it did? What if she had been kinder? What if she had held his hand? What if she had answered the phone? What if he had?
She hadn't realized she was shaking until his hand reached across the center console to steady hers.
"We're almost there. Almost there." His thumb rubbed against the back of her hand.
She took a deep breath. He didn't need weakness now. He needed her to be stoic. He needed her to be resolute. Or perhaps she needed it. If she was strong it meant he could grieve. He could have his moment of weakness. She didn't want him to bear whatever burden he might alone.
"I'm alright."
She saw him side eye her.
"Really. I am. There's nothing that can be done. Not until tomorrow. Why bother with being upset now?"
His grip on her hand loosened a little so she held on tighter. She hoped he didn't take notice of the tremors that went through her when he squeezed her hand back.
"I'm sorry for before, Booth."
By now he had parked his SUV in its usual spot. He turned his head. "Sorry? For what?"
She looked down at their clasped hands.
"For my heartlessness. When I pointed out the remaining blood on your hands. Had I given that more thought, I would not have chosen the words I did. I didn't think."
He slowly shook his head. He looked bewildered. She couldn't imagine why. She had spoken clearly, and referred to a moment that surely was not forgotten by him yet.
"You don't need to apologize for that. I knew what you meant."
She didn't know why he was lying; he knew her better than that.
"Only after Angela explained. I saw the look on everyone's face. Including yours. You thought that I had meant metaphorically."
She paused. It was getting difficult to breathe. Reaching over, she popped the lock on the door and opened it. She decided not to say anything else; she didn't trust herself. She'd say too much. She'd ruin this peace they had finally made with one another. She should have known he would not let the subject drop.
"Hey, honestly, there's nothing to apologize for."
She shrugged. "Of course not. I felt it necessary regardless."
She took in a deep breath. "What I'm apologizing for is that everyone thinks me capable of putting the blame on you for this. That everyone sees me as so cruel and cold a person that they wouldn't put it past me to put the blame on you. The one man in the world I can put absolute faith in. I am sorry that in the eyes of our friends, I'm steel. I am hard and incapable of emotion. That's how everyone sees me. That's why I'm sorry."
She rolled her eyes tossed her hands in the air, unaware of the tears that had fallen. "I'm sorry Booth."
"Bones, no one sees you as steel."
She tilted her head to the side. "Booth, you and I both know I am not foolish. You can't lie that easily to me."
"Bones-,"
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it. All I wanted to say was that I was sorry. Can we go inside please?"
Remembering why they were there, he nodded. She was suddenly very aware of how exposed they were. She wanted him inside. Now. She swiped at her cheeks, all but pulling him into the building.
She trembled in his arms, her sobs shaking both of their bodies.
"What do you need? Is there anything I can get you," he asked, whispering into her hair. It occurred to her in that moment, that terrible, wonderful moment, that this was the most intimate experience she'd ever had. There had been plenty of sex, with intimacy every once and again, but never quite like this, never this. Her entire heart was breaking, metaphorically, and she allowed him to see it. She allowed him to see her without any emotional barrier between them. This was the most naked she had ever felt. His grip around her body felt more comfortable, more real than any before him. And for once, she wanted to embrace it. She wanted to feel him; all of him. Every day. This was a feeling she was not willing to bury. This was the most raw emotion she had ever felt and god she loved it. This was better than sex. This was real. This was Booth. He had been making her think with her emotions since the day they'd met, and she had always told him why putting emotions before logic was foolish. She could not think of a single logical reason why being with Booth could ever be anything but the smartest course of action she'd ever taken.
This was it. This was her wish; her will. She remembered watching their wishes disappear in the smoke so many weeks ago and right then in that moment, she felt it all solidify. She knew their date was now; their moment was now.
Life was short. It was the longest thing anyone would ever do, the greatest story ever told, and yet still the shortest. Still the saddest. Today proved to her beyond a doubt that in an instant, you absolutely can lose the ones you love. You can be overcome with grief and regret until it's crippling. But it was the people left behind that felt with you. It was those you love the most who share in your burden, who understand. While they remained, the possibility of loss still hung in the air. Once you have experienced loss in the way she had, it hangs over you like a dark cloud. You start to wonder who else is expendable; who else can be lost. But she knew that parting ways with this man, with her Booth, simply was not an option. Not without this moment. Not without feeling.
"Temperance, please, what can I do for you? What do you need," he asked again. She wrapped her arms around him, consequences be damned. His hands clutched her waist, and she pulled herself against him, her curves melting into his. Pressing her lips to the side of his neck, her tears mixing with her kiss, she replied, "You. I need you."
Her leg hitched across his hip as his fingers burrowed into her hair, his other hand inching up her shirt and across her back. His touch left behind a chill unlike any other. God, she felt good. Whole. Maneuvering his body over hers, his breath hot against her exposed flesh, he leaned in so close that his nose skimmed her jaw.
"Say it again," he whispered.
Fighting for breath as their lips crushed together, as his hands found new skin to touch, as her fingers danced across his face, his neck, his chest, she whispered back,
"I need you."
Author's Note: My first time writing for Booth and Brennan and the missing night has always haunted me until finally I just had to write my own take. And somehow that moment with their wishes and the candles incorporated itself and suddenly the Will in the Wisp was born. I hope you like it, despite the fact this story has been told a million and one times. Don't forget to leave me a review. I really appreciate the feedback and it definitely serves as motivation to keep writing.