A/N: Okay so it's been a long while since I've written fic but this was half written after "Aliens in a Space Ship," a very powerful episode and I just came back to this again a couple of days ago and it began to flow. I like to think my style is always evolving so I'd appreciate any responses. Enjoy!
Note:This fic takes place the night after the rescue, a missing scene if you like.
Time Lines
Quickening his pace he entered the building. Tonight there was no friendly nod to the doorman, no jingling of his keys, tonight he had a purpose. The carpeted floor silenced his fast footfalls but he was sure his beating heart more than made up for the noise. He could feel every blood vessel fill and empty as he sped towards his destination. He felt beads of sweat ascend his back but he didn't stop. He had to resist breaking into a run. That would be overreacting… The problem was, he was only just starting to react.
It was ten minutes past midnight, verging on thirteen and as he rounded the last stretch of stairs the door was in his sights, finally. This rush of adrenaline had kicked into play just half an hour ago.
He had been in bed, alone this time. Cam had asked him, sure, but he hadn't been in the mood. After Bones, he just couldn't. He had left Virginia earlier that evening still in a stupor. Bones had said she was okay and stupidly he had been fed the comment and accepted it. Why?
Never. Never had he ever let that, "I'm fine.." phrase slide and yet today, he glanced at his watch once more, correction, yesterday, the day he had almost lost Bones, he hadn't persisted, hadn't looked after her the way she ought to have been, he had let her go; alone.
She had died. In his eyes she had died, that countdown to their limited oxygen had ceased and his heart had stopped and ice slid through his veins. It had been over and yet he hadn't given up, he couldn't. He would never give up on Temperance.
He had wasted all the time, all the time in the world. Time, neither of them had. Time could be so unforgiving. Time hadn't just killed her and Hodgins, it had killed him.
It took him until now, this moment, to realise he was alive. Bones was alive and he had to make it right, not just for his sake but for hers too because he was willing to do anything for her.
He wanted to take her hand in the street. He wanted to argue over the lab table and silence her with a kiss. He wanted to save her every day and protect her and see her smile. He wanted her to be his and only his because he was jealous and falling so fast in love with her that he wasn't sure he'd ever stop.
He stopped. The door stared back at him. He contemplated using the key she had given him, the "in case of emergencies one." The key that took him over a month to convince Bones that he wasn't over exerting his alpha male dominances and he wouldn't use it, unless and only, if he was adamant extreme danger was imminent and not as she had pointed out, "dropping by because of a hunger for Thai food at two in the morning or a Starbucks and donut at seven."
He saw tonight as an emergency but he knew she wouldn't and so he knocked.
The seconds slid like rain drops ambling down a window pane. He pursed his lips and stroked the bridge of his nose trying to both settle and collect his thoughts.
"Booth!" her voice was slightly groggy but still held surprise and an edge of aggravation.
His head snapped up catching sight of his partner. God, thank god. She was here, she was safe… his eyes skimmed her from top to toe looking for any signs of distress. No, she looked tired, confused, and maybe angry. He saw her brow furrow more, okay, definitely a touch of annoyance. He paused and swallowed, she was wearing very revealing nightwear.
He heard her clear her throat, "Don't tell me, you saw the lights from the road, wait," she jutted her chin out defiantly a smirk materializing, "no, the lights were off Booth."
His Bones was okay. She wasn't upset or scared or uncomfortable. It must be just him, he sighed.
"Listen, Bones, I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright you know, after everything that happened," he stuffed his hands in his pockets and picked an interesting spot on the ground, he was still raw, images of finding the woman before him dead still flooded his mind. He waited for an onslaught of arguments and statements about her being able to look after herself.
He knew she was but it didn't stop him worrying.
A feather light grip enclosed his sleeve and he felt a small tug propelling him inside the apartment. The whole room was cast in shadows and somehow they were soft rather than looming. The distinct scent of Temperance and her foreign incense sticks hung in the air. It was soothing and comforting and oh so familiar. He breathed in deep. She led him to the squishy orange sofa in which they had had many late night discussions and take-out feasts. It was quiet now, no music playing and no food cartons. No lamps just the moonlight seeping through the wooden slats of the blinds and the faint glow from down the hallway that he knew led to her bedroom. Foreign territory, territory he hoped to explore, someday. Not tonight.
She sat and he followed. Their thighs touching; he felt her eyes on him but he stared straight ahead. He didn't know what to say. He had come here and now he couldn't say anything.
"I… don't know what to say to you," her tone was serious, matter of fact but somewhat apologetic also.
A bittersweet smile graced his lips; great minds think alike he thought.
"I've been in life or death situations before. I can handle-"
He caught her hand.
He turned towards her, "I don't doubt your ability Bones, I know you don't give up."
Her thumb stroked his palm, she nodded.
He faced the window once more and swallowed.
"I'm going to catch the Grave Digger y'know, what he did to you and Hodgins…"
"I know," she lay back on the couch sighing dejectedly.
Maybe she wasn't as confident in her frame as mind as she claimed. Maybe she needed comfort too. Perhaps it had affected her too.
He sat forward, his left hand ironing invisible creases in his jeans.
A lapse of silence, their hands closed around each other.
"I have faith in you."
His eyes met hers. Those blue eyes still lit up, even in darkness. They were full of unwavering certainty, she meant it. Her head tilted slightly, was there invitation in her gaze?
He shook his head slowly but she nodded, thinking he didn't trust her confession, "I do, it's illogical but I do."
He licked his lips and stared at hers. He could take the plunge; he could mend what broke inside him when his phone had rung in the diner. He could plunder what he already felt was his. He could confess.
He stared into her eyes. She matched his gaze.
They would argue in the lab and make more than up for it when the day was done and it was just them and the night. Their hands would hold each others forever. He would drive and she would complain. She would spout sentences beginning with, "Anthropologically speaking," and he would throw his eyes to heaven. It mightn't be the white picket fence but they would make it work…
Life was short; God knew, he knew that, he knew nothing could be taken for granted.
The line between them was growing blurry. The line was waiting to be crossed. The end of one time and the beginning of a new time were lingering in the future.
She shivered slightly and he broke eye contact to glance at the tiny goose pimples puckering her flesh. He stood, removed his hand and removed his jacket. Bones made to stand, disappointment etched in her eyes. Disappointment both of them felt and both of them should ignore.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, the cold of her bare skin startling him although he had anticipated it. He guided her back onto the couch moving his jacket round her shoulders and surrounding them with his arm. He engraved gentle patterns up and down her arm. When he was with her he felt like he had all the time in the world. He didn't, but he wanted it.
Time had to move on, decisions had to be made. Nothing lasted.
Time would never stand still and lines…
"Do you want to come to church with me tomorrow?"
Sometimes lines weren't supposed to be crossed.
Thanks for reading. Comments are very much appreciated.
Sinead