Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: What's the point?
Author's note: There is no meaning you've missed, you never know what he said. Hell, I don't know. Thank you to Miss Mary the Wonderful. Kudos to you, my dear! She helped me a lot. Well, enjoy...This is a very short oneshot...Hope it's worth it...Reviews rock my world...
She stared at him from across the room.
"What?" His russet eyes were boring into hers. He was confused, still, as to what exactly he had done to set her off this time. By now he was used to her being irked by his less sensitive comments, and he had tried, for the most part to avoid these. Sometimes, he liked to play with her mind a little, but not this time.
This time, they'd been joking around for hours. She had to know he wasn't serious. Didn't she? Booth, for the first time in a long time with her, was unsure with himself. Normally, he was playful. Normally she was playful. Even when they were arguing, he could still see that amused glint in her eyes.
Not now. The glint was gone; replaced by something harsher. Booth couldn't place the look. It wasn't anger. He had seen her angry before, when first glimpsing a child's skeleton, when she was interviewing a suspect with him. This was different.
She looked hurt, vulnerable. The knowledge that he had caused her to feel this made his stomach twist, and, looking at her again, he softened his voice.
"What, Temperance?"
She was momentarily confused as Booth used her given name. In her mind flashed images of her father, and Russ, her mother, and the various times Booth had used her name. Temperance. She had never liked her name until Booth had said it, because it had reminded her of her past. She had always told everyone to call her 'Brennan'. Even Angela, her best friend, called her some variation of her surname. But somehow, it sounded so natural, so comforting, when it was said by him. She hated herself for thinking this way.
"Don't call me that," she pleaded. She knew that if he continued down this path he would get in: she would unravel in front of him. She couldn't do that. Despite her pleas, she knew he wasn't going to give in. That wasn't Booth. He would continue until he got the answer, because that was what he did. It was what they were trained to do in the FBI, and the Army, and it was also paternal instinct.
From her reaction, he knew she was wavering in her conviction. "Temperance, what did I say? Tell me." He took a few steps closer, closing most of the distance between them in her small office.
She could see on his face an unhidden pain, and she knew she had hurt him by her reaction. Brennan knew it was unfair for her to be doing this to him, to react so severely, and give him no explanation in return.
She started to speak. "Booth." Her voice broke and she couldn't say anything more. Despite his pain, and the further pain he knew this would bring him, he took a step closer, then another, so they were standing barely a foot apart. Brennan fixed him with a warning stare, and he wasn't sure if she'd flip him onto the floor if he touched her.
After a few seconds of watching the pain dance in her eyes, he didn't care. It was worth it. For her. He lifted a hand to her face, touching it softly as he ran it through her hair to the back of her head, and pulled her to his chest. He stayed there a minute, caressing her hair tenderly.
"I'm sorry, Bones" he whispered. Brennan was stunned.
"Booth," she almost laughed, "Why are you sorry? A minute ago you were asking me what you said to-"
"Shh, sh, sh, Bones. It's okay. I'm sorry because I hurt you. I don't care what it was."
She looked at him, incredulous. How could he be so nice to her? She remembered the time in New Orleans when she had asked him. "Because they think they get away with it," was his reply then. Only then, she didn't know how small a part of it that was, how much he had been withholding. Afraid to look in his eyes any longer, but still needing him there, she ducked her head to his chest again, positioning her head so she could listen to the steady rhythm of his heart.
Looking down at her, His Bones, snuggled in his chest, he felt a recognizable lump building in his throat. She didn't know it, but he needed her as much as she needed him. Probably more, Temperance.
Forcing back the stinging tears, he bent his head, and placed his lips against her hair.