Disclaimer: Bones clearly isn't mine. If it were, almost everyone on the show would have slept with one another by now. *has a pervy mind*
A/N: I've been itching to write a Booth/Brennan fic for ages now and when I found out about the many juicy spoilers for the finale last year I just couldn't resist! Though when I began this, it was March of '08, so yeah... Enjoy!
Given enough time, everything changes.
It's scientifically inevitable. Over the ages millions of animals had to adapt to their surroundings, or they quickly became prey. Many didn't, but the few that did have become the large array of different species that we know on Earth today. It was a simple fact- a product of evolution.
People, she's found, have come across many of the same predicaments. Whether it be one of the ancient societies that managed to use their higher intelligence to outsmart game and plant crops, or the homeless that lead a nomadic lifestyle in cities around the modern world today.
It's all about survival.
Sometimes, that change is for the better. She knows that. But most of the time, she's come to expect it to be for the worse.
It could happen in a split second or take a lifetime.
But in this case, a month was all that it took...
Week One
Day One-
She'd only been awake for twenty minutes when Booth's familiar knock echoed through her quiet apartment.
That in itself wasn't exceptionally unusual, even though it was only five o'clock on a Monday morning. She was used to him picking her up for an early breakfast at least three or four times a week and didn't think twice about it anymore. In fact, she'd been excited to see him- anticipated his arrival- wanting to tell him all about her weekend in New York with Angela. She never expected to find him the way that she did... Casually leaning against the wooden frame of her door, and if she hadn't been assaulted by the heavy smell of whiskey and cigars or seen the amount of body weight that he was relying on the wall to hold up for him, she wouldn't have realized that he was completely shit-faced (that was the proper colloquialism, correct?) drunk right away.
"Booth! What happened?"
Bloodshot eyes met her own and he mumbled something inaudible, stumbling past her without waiting for an invitation. She hadn't been prepared for that. Stunned, watching helplessly before quickly shutting the door behind her and rushing to his side, just barely managing to catch him as he tripped over the throw rug in her foyer. Somehow though, they managed to make it to the couch without much of an issue, unceremoniously dumping him into a heap on the cushions.
He was abnormally quiet. Usually Booth was a very happy, if not sometimes boisterous drunk. That worried her- to see him sit up, lean forward and put his head in his hands, completely exhausted.
She didn't know how long she stood there, rooted to a spot less than three feet away, feeling the overwhelming urge to either wrap him up tightly in her arms, or scold him for driving across town while clearly intoxicated. But she did know that she hated seeing him like this.
Her partner was a man built on his pride; for himself, for his loved ones, for his country and his job. He hardly ever complained, but when he did it was only to vent before he went off and fixed whatever was bothering him to the best of his ability. He wasn't a wallower. Booth dealt with his problems head on.
That was the first clue, the one that led her to believe that something was truly wrong.
Determined to help him in any way that she could, Temperance scurried off into the kitchen, retrieving a glass of water and two aspirin from the bottle of pain relievers that she kept on the counter. She may not necessarily be able to help with whatever had him upset, she still wasn't all that great with emotions, but she could definitely treat his hangover.
Perching herself on the coffee table directly in front of him, she held out the cup for him to take. He did so without meeting her eyes, taking a generous swig before accepting the pills that she was offering.
They sat there in silence. For seconds and minutes, maybe even hours, she would never be sure. So close that her knees brushed against the inside of his thighs and there was nothing between them but the sound of the clock ticking loudly on her wall.
Not quite sure what to do, Brennan tentatively reached out and rested her palm on the crown of his bowed head.
He stiffened, his breath catching audibly, and her stomach dropped. Had she taken the wrong course of action? Her muscles grew tense, a sense of urgency flowing over her as she slowly began pulling away from him.
But that's when she felt it. He arched into her touch. The slightest amount of pressure leaning trustingly into her care. She was oddly proud of herself for knowing the best way to comfort him. Feeling less abashed now, her fingers tunneled through his hair, caressing his scalp in a soothing manner. Willing him to tell her what had happened, or why he had come to her instead of staying home and calling in sick.
He didn't.
Day Four-
They hadn't said much to one another after he'd sobered up at her place a few days before. He'd come out of her shower later that morning, wearing a new suit, clean shaven, acting as if nothing had happened. She'd been confused of course, but decided not to question it- to go along with it.
Now she was beginning to regret that choice.
Booth had been withdrawn for most of the day. Save for a few grumbles here or there and a general testiness that she was willing to overlook.
There was a new case. A young woman stuffed into a trash bag and thrown down a small ravine in a park on the outskirts of DC. They'd gotten the call just before heading home for the evening, and both of them had already been at the crime scene for well over three hours.
Not surprisingly, they were tired. But there was no excuse for what happened next.
"What do you think you're doing, huh?" she heard Booth growl somewhere behind her.
Looking up from where she was crouched over the body, she watched as he towered over a smaller FBI Crime Scene Analyst, poking him in the chest much harder than a man of his size could comfortably handle without bruising.
"You just contaminated evidence!" he roared.
"I- I uh..."
Her partner glared and pressed forward, pushing the little man in the direction of the crime scene tape, "That's all you have to say? I tell you people over and over again, it has to be done a certain way! Otherwise the squints will give me a ration of shit, and then I'll have to come and give you a ration of shit. Really, if you do it right in the first place, it saves us all a hell of a lot of time and trouble!"
The man's eyes were wide with fear as he fumbled desperately for an apology, "I'm s-sorry Agent Booth! I thought I was following Bureau protocol. I swear!"
"Oh really? You thought you were following protocol? What the hell are they teaching down at Quantico these days?"
Brennan stood up, completely horrified by his behavior. Even she knew how much of a faux pas this spectacle was becoming.
"Booth!"
He froze.
Charging up the shallow incline in his direction, she snapped off her rubber gloves and shoved them into her jacket pocket, "How dare you berate that man in front of his colleagues when he's done nothing more than his job. Correctly, might I add!"
He turned, the only indication of remorse being the same look that she'd come to associate with Parker's face when he knew that he was about to get into trouble.
"But, Bones..."
"Don't you dare," she stage whispered, finally coming to a stop just inches from him, "I don't know what is going on with you lately, Booth, but you better figure it out soon. This little outburst is unacceptable and you know it. You're a Special Agent in the FBI. Start acting like one."
He frowned, about to open his mouth to respond and she stopped him with a pointed glare.
"Don't. I'm done here," she turned and continued the conversation at a normal decibel as she walked toward the man that Booth had almost just accosted, "Have them gather samples and ship the remains back to the lab. I'm getting a ride back with Agent Wilson."
Week Two
Day Nine-
A little over a week had passed.
Booth's odd behavior was starting to become a problem. At first she'd chalked it up to unneeded stress from Cullen about some case that she didn't know about, or problems with Rebecca regarding his weekends with Parker. But this seemed different somehow. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Nonetheless, she wouldn't interfere. Not yet anyways. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her, right? She was simply respecting his privacy.
Lately though, whenever he showed up at the lab he'd put on a fake smile and try to pretend that everything was alright. But she knew better. That twinkle, the one that Agent Perotta was so fond of and the one that she had come to secretly adore, was no longer in his eyes. That troubled her.
Angela had told her once that you can't go through life without actually living it. She hadn't understood what it meant at the time, but now? Looking at Booth as he wandered through his days with a blank expression on his face, no longer enjoying life like he used to, she understood.
It was torture.
Day Eleven-
Their new case was a tough one.
Not tough as in hard to solve, that part was simple. But it was hard to process for her on a personal level and she didn't understand why.
"Hey Bones? Are you okay?"
She almost laughed at that. Was she okay?
They were sitting at the bar in Wong Foo's, eating their first shared meal in nearly five days- she'd asked him to lunch and dinner four days in a row before he finally accepted- and he was asking her if she was alright?
"I'm fine, Booth."
That produced the first smile she'd see on him in weeks, almost making her glad that she'd lied to him. She hadn't realized how much she missed seeing him happy, how much she depended on him and his emotional stability.
"No you're not."
Brennan dragged her spoon aimlessly through the mysterious soup that Sid had placed in front of her not too long ago and took a deep breath. She was more relieved that he actually sounded concerned than she'd care to admit.
"Fine," she conceded, "maybe I'm not. But I don't know why. It doesn't make any sense."
"Sure it does," he laid a hand over hers, sparking a familiar wave of warmth within her, "Almost every case we've had in the last four months has had something to do with children under the age of four. Even I'm affected by that. It makes you start thinking about your biological clock, Bones."
Her brow furrowed. The human body didn't have a clock inside of it.
"I don't know what that means."
Booth set his fork down, rubbing a weary hand over his face and she noticed for the first time that he had only picked at his food. He was losing weight. That made her frown.
"It means that your brain is saying one thing, but your body is saying something completely different," he squeezed her fingers lightly, making her blush as he leaned closer to her, bringing their conversation down to a whisper, "We're getting older, Temperance. All you're body can think about is having kids, because soon enough it won't be able to."
She was confused.
"And before you say anything, Bones. I know that your body can't think. It's all about biology. Everyone has the instinct to produce offspring. Even if they don't want to."
Temperance bit her bottom lip, deep in thought. He was probably correct.
Lately, whenever she saw a mother with a baby between the ages of four and nine months, she felt this unexplainable twinge inside of her that made her miss Andy, long for his presence. As soon as she felt it though, she buried it deep inside of herself. Thinking that it was just Angela rubbing off on her, or some random "trigger", a psychological response that Sweets had explained to her not long ago, that flared the bond she'd formed with him in the few days that they'd had together.
"You're right."
Booth nearly choked on the water that he'd been sipping, "What?"
"I said, I think you're right, Booth."
"Right? About what exactly?"
"My body has been telling me to bare a child," she slouched her shoulders, the weight of what she was about to say finally hitting her, "But I don't think that I want my brain to disagree anymore."
She saw Booth's frame stiffen out of the corner of her eye, just as surprised by this revelation as she was, "Are you saying what I think you're saying, Bones?"
She nodded, almost afraid to look in his direction. Would he disapprove of her wanting to become a parent?
"Yes," she finally found the courage to look up at him, finding him grinning warmly at her, "I think I want to have a baby."
The rest of their meal was spent in companionable silence, listening to the hustle and bustle of the restaurant around them. Her mind was consumed, the baby revelation throwing her for a bit of a loop. She'd always been so adamant that children would never have a place in her life, but maybe it's exactly what she's been missing.
If she really wanted to go through with this though, she knew that she'd have to take multiple factors into consideration. Most importantly, giving up going out into the field with Booth for the foreseeable future, and Brennan wasn't so sure that she could do that. She'd metaphorically tasted that freedom and it would be extremely hard to let that part of herself go. But Booth had told her a long time ago that when you become a parent, you have to sacrifice some of the things that you love and in return, you get one of those most fulfilling relationships that anyone could ever have.
She might be able to live with that. Having someone that would love her for the rest of her life? Someone who would never leave her? It would be worth it.
But how would she conceive?
She hadn't been in a relationship lasting more than a month in nearly two years, and while artificial insemination was exceptionally efficient for fertile women such as herself, it was extremely impersonal. In years past she probably would have preferred that anonymity, but for some reason she found herself wanting the father of her child be someone that she knew.
The next thing she knew Booth was setting down two twenty's down on the counter, snapping Brennan out of her thoughts as he grabbed a to-go container full of the food that he hadn't eaten.
"You ready to head out?"
He looked at her expectantly and she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of pride and guilt that surged through her. She felt like she'd accomplished something much bigger than either of them could currently think possible, but at what price? She was supposed to spend this time trying to figure out what his problems were and they'd ended up talking through hers.
It was irrational, she knew that, but as soon as she stood she found herself wrapping her arms around him. He smelled of the subtle aftershave that she bought him for his birthday last year and felt just as sturdy as she'd remembered him from all of their other guy hugs.
With little hesitation, he embraced her as well and her eyes fell shut, putting her brain in neutral as she let her heart take over for a few precious moments.
This was the Booth that she knew and loved. Helping her even when he so obviously needed help himself.
"I'm so proud of you, Bones," she felt his breath flutter through her hair, and she burrowed deeper into his chest.
He was her touchstone, nothing could go wrong when he was there. Clinging to him, reluctant to let go.
Less than a minute later, grinning sheepishly, they parted and went separate ways in the parking lot. Just as she went to unlock her car though, she turned for some reason and studied him carefully as he made his way toward the standard issue black SUV that he always drove.
Should she?
Her heart fluttered.
He made her feel safe, he protected her at any cost, he'd always be there for her (barring death of course) and he was one of the few people in her life that she trusted fully.
Her face flushed and her stomach flipped, knees feeling weak. Her father had told her the day they'd been reunited that if she ever found a person that she trusted, to hang onto him, and she intended to take him up on that advice. Hoping desperately that the potential rewards would outweigh the consequences.
Holding her breath, Temperance already had her cellphone out, furiously texting a message onto the tiny screen before anxiously pressing send.
To: Seeley Booth
From: Dr. Temperance Brennan
'Would you?'
Just seconds later, she jumped when her phone beeped and vibrated in her hand.
To: Dr. Temperance Brennan
From: Seeley Booth
'Would I what?'
She was so nervous that her entire body shook in waves. Desperately wishing that she had the comforting precision of science to help her through this, because for the first time in her life she actually found herself wanting to pray to an invisible messiah in the sky, wondering if Booth would still be her friend tomorrow after he figured out what she was asking of him. At least then she'd feel a bit more confident.
To: Seeley Booth
From: Dr. Temperance Brennan
'Be the father of my child?'
The second she sent the message, she watched him stop in his tracks, staring at his phone in what she could only imagine was wonder. And though it was impossible, her heart felt as if it had stopped. Terrified that he'd think she was crazy.
But then he turned- left and then right. Searching for her amongst the sea of cars.
When their eyes finally met she felt a prickle of tears wetting her lashes, spilling down her already warmed cheeks. It was humbling. He could crush her at this very moment if he wanted to.
To: Dr. Temperance Brennan
From: Seeley Booth
'Give me some time?'
She met his gaze once again, not quite sure what, 'Give me some time?' meant. But seeing the corners of his mouth flick upward briefly, even through his obvious confusion, gave her reason to hope.
Releasing a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding in, a new wave of tears fell as she did her best to return his smile.
Her phone vibrated again and her heart clenched. Had he changed his mind already?
To: Dr. Temperance Brennan
From: Seeley Booth
'Don't even think about asking anyone else, Bones.'
Tempe chuckled, her entire body felt like it was floating.
He gave her one last look- it was intense and full of longing, much like the ones they always shared after a heated argument or a poignant moment between the two of them- before climbing into the drivers side of his vehicle and driving off into the direction of Rebecca's house, most likely to pick up Parker. This time it had seemed different though and she was almost certain it was because of that damn line of his, the line that she was pretty sure she'd just plowed straight through.
She leaned against the side of her car, with a dopey grin on her face. She didn't care though, she still had Booth and that was all that mattered.
Week Three
Day Fifteen-
She hadn't seen him in three days.
With any other set of partners in the FBI it probably wouldn't have been that odd. But with Booth? She hardly ever went a day without seeing him and could literally count the number of times that he'd managed to keep to himself for more than twenty four hours since the beginning of their partnership on one hand. Even when they were fighting.
So to say that she was worried is a bit of an understatement. Maybe she really had made a mistake asking him to sire her child.
That's what made her decide to pay him a visit over at the Hoover building.
She was relieved when everything seemed alright. She eventually guilted him into going out to lunch with her, paying him back for all of the times that he'd forced her to eat during long cases. He'd protested of course, but ultimately allowed her to drag him down to the parking garage and shove him into the passenger seat of her fancy sports car. That alone rose suspicion. He hadn't even fought her about driving- just sat there quietly, watching the traffic pass by as she navigated them through the city.
Maybe things weren't going as well as she thought.
Halfway through their meal, she finally found the courage to gently broach the subject with him.
"Booth?"
He looked up at her, his eyes strangely dull as he set down his coffee, "What's up, Bones?"
She bit her lip, breaking their gaze. This was going to be hard.
"You would tell me if there was something going on with you, right?"
There was a long pause. He released a shaky breath and shifted in his seat.
She was almost afraid to look up, cautiously peering through a thin veil of wavy hair that had slipped from behind her ear, only to find him staring blankly out the window.
"Of course I would."
Her heart broke. Tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
He was lying.
They hadn't spoken to one another after that- a simple grunt here or there as they paid for their meal and she dropped him off. The silence between them saying more than words ever could.
She spent the entire drive back to the lab in a daze, heading straight to the platform before her emotions got the better of her. Work had always been her way of avoiding, and if she were honest with herself, it's probably the only thing keeping her from having a total breakdown.
"Bren!"
Temperance's body became rigid, wincing at the cheerful tone of her best friends voice.
"Oh, my God. You will not believe what Hodgins and I just did down in the storage room," she swiped her access card before giddily bounding up the steps, making Brennan grip the side of the examination table until her knuckles turned white, "There's this thing that he does with his-"
"Angela, I don't care!" she snapped, "Why you keep insisting on telling me about your sex life is beyond even my intelligence. It's inappropriate workplace conduct and something that you should keep to yourself from now on."
Angela stepped back, her hands held up in front of her, staring at her with wide eyes, "Whoa there, where in the hell did that come from? I thought you liked gossiping with me?"
Her shoulders sagged, brain finally catching up with her actions. She'd just yelled at Angela. Angela for crying out loud! She was a horrible person.
Brennan turned, on the verge of crying for the second time in the past two hours, tugging her friend into a bone crushing hug, "I'm sorry, Ange."
Arms tightened around her, before she heard a tentative whisper, "Is this about our favorite hunk of FBI agent?"
Brennan's eyes squeezed tightly shut, a shiver running through her body. Had she noticed too? Had she seen the same subtle changes in Booth that she had?
She nodded, burrowing into the crook of Angela's neck, wanting to hide from the world. She hated feeling helpless.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered.
"Oh, sweetie."
Day Twenty-
She was at a loss.
Booth was avoiding her. She knew it. He knew it. Hell, even the squints knew it. They'd asked her more than once why she and Booth were fighting and she hadn't known what to say. If only it were that simple. A fight would have been easy to resolve, but she couldn't fix something when she didn't know the cause.
With each passing day she sank further into herself. Retreating into her mind, into the person that she used to be four years ago. Angela was her only saving grace, the only anchor that she had left in this world. She'd comfort her and make her go home at a decent hour most workdays, maybe even bribe her into eating some food here or there.
Tonight though, it was late. She'd just arrived home, toed her heels off and slipped out of her dark blue blazer, letting it fall carelessly onto the floor with a gentle thump. The little blinking light on her answering machine glared at her as she ignored it and walked by. The outside world had certainly noticed her absence, but did they notice Booth's?
Gathering a set of pajamas from her dresser, she made her way into the bathroom and started the shower. The rest of her clothes came off slowly- sweater, slacks, bra and underwear, all mismatched and wrinkled- gathering into a small pile at her feet.
The hot water felt amazing. Hitting her bare skin as she stepped under the spray, steam swirling around her in a false sense of comfort, like a warm hug encompassing her entire body.
Why wouldn't he tell her what's wrong? They're partners, they were supposed to tell each other everything. Why was he being so stubborn, dammit!
Her breath caught in her throat, lip quivering against her will, muscles taught with frustration.
That was all it took. She broke.
Her forehead fell helplessly against the cool tile in front of her, stomach clenching in agony as she let out a gut wrenching sob.
He was supposed to be there for her, told her that he'd never leave her- never abandon her like her family had. And every day, no matter what she did, he slipped away from her a little bit more.
What had she done? Why didn't he want her anymore?
Sliding to the bottom of the tub, her arms tucked tightly against her body, she laid on her side and curled into the fetal position. She stayed there until the water turned cold and her tears had been swept down the drain.
She couldn't take it anymore. She had to do something. Anything.
Week Four
Day Twenty-two-
Desperate to see him, Brennan found herself standing in front of Booth's apartment door late Sunday evening, debating whether or not to use the spare key that she'd already grabbed from underneath that stupid, fake rock that he still insists on using. She needed to make sure that he was alright, see it for herself. Because really? There was only so much reassuring from the secretary in his office that she could take, especially after leaving over thirty unanswered messages, his privacy be damned.
With her mind made up, she slid the key easily into the lock and turned the handle. Holding her breath as she stepped inside, scared of what she was going to find, she was enveloped by nothing but darkness.
Curious and slightly alarmed, she gently shut the door behind her and delved deeper into his home. The radio in the living room was on low and she could hear the soft murmurs of him talking to someone, but she hadn't expected what she saw when she turned the corner.
There he was, lounging comfortably on the couch, a small lamp in the hallway casting barely enough light to see the furrow in his brow, having a full blown conversation... with himself.
It seemed odd to her. Causing her to pause and observe. Feeling as though she was watching a child interact with a make believe friend, even though there was no such thing- focusing on a particular spot in space, chatting and almost arguing animatedly.
"Booth?"
The moment she spoke, even in a quiet voice, his body language changed. He tensed, his eyes grew wide, hardening a second later when he finally spotted her a few feet away.
"Bones," he almost growled, "what the hell are you doing here?"
Her forehead puckered, taken aback at harsh change in demeanor, "I-I was worried..."
"You were worried?" he spat, "And you had to come all the way over here to do that? You couldn't have called?"
Brennan huffed in disbelief, "You wouldn't have picked up! You've been acting oddly for weeks now, so yes, I've been worried about you!"
He softened the tiniest bit at that. A heavy silence settling between them.
"Who were you talking to, Booth?"
"What?"
He was trying to play coy. That bastard.
"Earlier, when I came in, you were talking to someone. Who was it?"
His jaw clenched, heaving himself up off of the couch, before hastily making his way toward her.
"You know what, Bones? That's really none of your goddamn business!"
Before she could even think of responding his hand was wrapped around her bicep in a death grip and he was dragging her back toward the front door. She'd have a bruise there in the morning, but she didn't care.
"Of course it's my business!" she wrenched away from him, her anger rising, "I'm your partner!"
"Oh, so now you want to play the partner card?"
Her stomach dropped, "I thought I was your friend too?"
"Well, you thought wrong!" he yelled, looking her straight in the eye.
"Why are you being so cruel? Have you been acting like this with everyone in your life lately, too? Rebecca? Parker? Because I'm sure they didn't deserve it either."
Booth's nostrils flared and she could see his fists tighten.
"Get out."
"What-"
Surging forward, he pressed her roughly against the small entryway wall, their bodies just barely touching. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him, the press of his hips against hers, making her heart beat wildly in her chest. Whatever she'd been expecting from him when she made the decision to come here, this certainly wasn't it.
His gaze bore into hers, heated and dark. Daring her to defy him.
"Get. Out."
The next thing she knew he was shoving her outside and the door slammed shut in her face.
She blinked, a tear sliding down her cheek. Chest tightening as confusion and frustration rolled through her.
"Booth," she whispered, resting her forehead against the door in defeat as another little part of her soul (if there was such a thing) was lost.
What was she going to do now?
Day Twenty-seven-
Research. That was her solution.
She rarely ate or slept anymore. The only thing she'd done in the last five days was sit in front of her laptop, gathering information on every possible combination of symptoms that she'd seen Booth exhibit. Some of the diagnoses she'd expected, but others had surprised her. Reading up on everything from the flu, to psychological problems, and the most fatal of diseases.
She wasn't going to give up on him, no matter how far he pushed her away. She couldn't.
It was just past 10:00pm well into her seventh day of research, when she heard him knock on her door.
She froze. He knocked again. It hadn't just been in her head. Thank God!
Nearly crying in relief, her computer toppled off of her lap and she flung herself into his arms the second she opened the door, clinging to him tightly.
"I'm so sorry, Bones," he whispered against the side of her neck.
She squeezed him harder, breathing him in.
"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that," he continued, "You didn't deserve it. There's no excuse for how I've treated you. None at all."
Brennan bit her trembling bottom lip, "I've missed you, Booth."
"I missed you too," he sighed softly and leaned back, framing her face with his palms, "You have no idea how much."
She smiled for the first time since that day in the parking lot outside of Wong Foo's, weak as it may have been, and tugged him back into her embrace. The bag that had been slung over his shoulder fell to the floor and he slid his arms around her waist, bringing their fronts flush against one another. A little thrill ran through her, but she ignored it. Instead, choosing to burrow into his chest, reveling in his presence.
He was still hesitant about something though, she could tell.
"Booth?" she asked softly.
"Yeah, Bones?"
"Tell me what's wrong."
He took a deep breath and sagged against her, leaning his head against the side of hers, almost nuzzling her. There was that hesitation again.
Dread began brewing deep within her.
"Booth, please..." she begged.
He held her as if he was afraid to let go. His moist breath fanning across her cheek as his pulse raced under her fingertips. She was just about to say something when she felt it. Something warm and wet seeping through the thin material of her shirt.
There it was again.
He was crying.
Something really was wrong with him, she wasn't just imagining it. For the first time in her life, she hated herself for being right.
"I-" his voice cracked, sounding like a petrified little boy, "I've been hallucinating."
Her mouth dropped open in shock, "What?"
Was it really that serious?
"That's not all."
What more could there be? Her mind sped through every possible outcome that she could think of. None of them were good.
"They uh-" sucking in a wavering breath, his fingers curled into hem of her shirt, tugging at it worryingly, "they found a tumor in my brain about a month ago."
A month?
Temperance gasped, realization finally dawning on her, "That morning you showed up drunk..."
He nodded, "Found out the night before."
She felt like she couldn't breath.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was scared- am scared."
She shuddered against him. She couldn't lose him now, she'd just gotten him back.
"What about treatments? Have you tried-"
"Yes."
"But what about-"
"Bones!" he leaned back, exhausted, "They've tried everything-"
"What? What do you mean they've tried everything!" adrenaline surged through her and bile rose in her throat. Her world was spinning, "Are you- does that mean you're..."
The look in his eyes told her everything. He was dying.
Her vision began to blur, tears welling behind her lashes, and all she could hear was blood rushing through her ears. This wasn't happening. She refused to believe it.
Booth couldn't be dying...
She knew she was right to not believe in God all these years. Because if there were such a mythical figure, He must be incredibly cruel.
"No," Brennan shook her head furiously, hot tracks of moisture finally spilling down her flushed face, "no, no, no! You can't die, Booth! I can't lose you!"
He caught her as her knees buckled and helped her over to the couch. She clung to him with all of her might, sobbing until there was nothing left.
When she finally managed to contain her emotions, the clock had just struck midnight and his fingers were running soothingly through her hair. Her face was hot and tight, dried mascara streaking down her cheeks, and somehow she'd ended up with her legs over Booth's lap, curled up in his arms. Under normal circumstances, if Temperance had the energy or the will to move, she would have. But in this case, she couldn't- no wouldn't let go.
"Booth?"
His fingers curled against the base of her skull, massaging down the back of her neck, "Yeah?"
Her eyes shut, allowing herself to arch into his touch, "Are they able to surgically remove your- your uh..."
She couldn't say it. Her throat closed up and her stomach rolled.
"Tumor?"
Tempe nodded, glad that he seemed to understand.
"Tomorrow morning."
Relief. Anxiety. A moment to process.
Minutes passed, his even breathing lulling her into a little bubble of comfort.
She knew the percentages of people with his condition who ended up dying on the table. It wasn't exactly the best odds, but from what he's said, it's his only chance.
"You think I could stay here tonight, Bones?" he mumbled, startling her out of her stupor, before he continued more clearly, "The doctor, he doesn't want me by myself. You know, just in case something happens? It's uh- it's getting worse, and the only way he wouldn't admit me the second he gave me the bad news is if I stayed with someone qualified."
Brennan looked him directly in the eye, her head tilting just a fraction, before she nodded her consent. Everything was happening so quickly.
He looked relieved. At least one of them was.
Yes, she finally knew why Booth had changed so much lately, but oddly she found herself wishing she'd remained ignorant. She didn't know if she'd survive this. If he died, there'd be nothing left of her.
Without realizing it, her hands had slowly wound their way up his neck and cupped the sides of his head. Gently searching his scalp as if she could feel the cancer, if that's what it was (she couldn't find the courage to ask yet), through his skin and skull.
"Where?" she pleaded softly, "Where is it?"
Booth wet his chapped lips and covered the back of her hands with his own. His skin was dry and brittle, fingers digging into hers as he moved her palms slowly until they were three inches behind his right ear, almost at the back of his head.
Their eyes met.
It wasn't just a bad dream. She couldn't rationalize it, or explain it away with science and a cold heart. This was real, and it was happening to her partner. Her friend. Her family.
Resting her forehead against his, she carefully stroked the spot he'd guided her to. The tips of her fingers tangling in his hair as they swirled over and over again.
Comfort. A silent, 'Everything will be alright.' A lie.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
Day Twenty-eight-
It was 4am and something had woken her from a peaceful slumber.
She was laying on her couch, tangled up in a quilt, staring wide-eyed at the barely lit ceiling. Normally that would have been unusual, but not too long ago she'd finally managed to talk Booth into taking her bed after he started showing signs of fatigue.
Nausea began rolling within her, leaving her taught and ready for action. All was silent. Something was wrong, she could feel it.
"No!"
Brennan's breath caught in her throat.
Booth.
In less than five seconds she'd tumbled off of the sofa, nearly tripped over the coffee table and burst through her bedroom door.
Her heart clenched. The sight of him struggling in her sheets, fighting off an invisible foe, causing an unexpected emotional response within her.
"Booth!"
"No!" he tossed helplessly, "Please, no!"
Spurring into action, she rushed over to him. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, hands shaking his bare shoulders, she tried desperately to rip him from the holds of his terror, "Booth?"
Nothing.
He whimpered.
"Booth?" she pleaded, "You have to wake up!"
He frowned and arched his back, trying to break free. His right arm bent before she could stop him, fingers scratching at the back of his head, tearing at it desperately.
"Get it out!"
"Booth!"
This time she gave him an extra hard shove. She could feel adrenaline pounding through her veins and her eyes welling with moisture, so close to truly panicking. She had to wake him.
"Please Booth! It's just a dream!"
His eyes popped open, darting around the room.
Terror. Agony. Confusion.
He began to struggle. Grunting and pressing against her, strong even in his weakened state. Forcing her to lay across his upper body so that he wouldn't hurt himself.
Seconds seemed like minutes. Light from a street lamp shone in through the blinds, streaking across his frightened face. She'd seen this reaction before; two abused foster kids sharing one room, living every day knowing that another beating could be right around the corner. They'd tried so many things to calm one another in the middle of the night, to help heal their wounds, but only a gentle touch ever seemed to work.
So, she decided to take a chance. Sliding one hand up to his neck, she cupped his cheek, focusing his attention to her, "Booth? Dammit, look at me! Breath."
Struggling for a moment, he groaned. A hint of recognition as their gazes met and locked, faces only a few inches apart.
"That's it," she encouraged, "Breath with me. In... Out. Easy. Keep going."
"Bones?"
He sounded so helpless.
"Shh, it's alright," her voice cracked, fingers smoothing over his temples, "everything is going to be alright."
That's when he cried out softly, sad and defeated, "No it won't."
"What?"
Hiccuping, he replied, "It won't be alright."
Her heart constricted in her chest.
"Oh, Booth." she whispered.
Without thinking she curled herself around him. Dropping to his side before wrapping him in her arms, much like he had earlier that night. Their foreheads touched once again, noses brushing as she kneaded through the little hairs at the base of his skull.
His entire body shook with the force of his grief. Yet all she could do is lay there and offer him solace.
He wasn't alone though, she was scared. Dr. Temperance Brennan, world renowned Forensic Anthropologist and New York Times Best Sellers List author, whom had nerves of steel, was terrified. So she cried with him. Grieving. Accepting it, even if she hated it.
Minutes slowly ticked by and he was finally starting to calm. But that's when she felt it, one of his hands sliding under the hem of her tank top, making her choke down a surprised gasp as he touched the soft skin at the small of her back. Clinging to her. And even though her rational mind told her to roll over, remove herself from the situation, she found that she couldn't. Her arms felt heavy, the leg that still lay slung over his waist shifting as he turned to his more onto his side and pulled her closer.
"Bones?" he rasped. Puffs of warm arm hitting her chin as he spoke.
"Yes?"
He sniffled softly and finally relaxed into her, "If you could do one thing before you died, what would it be?"
She bit her bottom lip. Her pulse dropping a beat at the question. What would she do? Climb Everest? Unearth three thousand year old remains? Maybe have a family of her own?
"You promise not to laugh?"
He nodded against her, drawing random patterns across her L4 and L5 vertebrae, "Promise."
Still, she hesitated.
"I... would want to fall in love."
She heard him gasp, just a little sound deep in his throat. His fingertips stilled on her back and his eyes slid open, focusing on hers. It felt like time had slowed. Then his hand, the one that had stopped only second ago, slowly moved up between her scapulas.
She shivered and arched into his touch.
"Do you trust me, Bones?"
"Of course," she answered without thinking.
He glanced down at her lips, and Tempe could feel her cheeks flush and a rush of warmth flood through her body.
Oh, God. Was he really going to-
He inched forward and she almost forgot to breath.
"What are you doing?" she whispered halfheartedly, their mouths only a centimeter apart.
Booth tilted his head, brushing his lips just barely over hers, "Doing the one thing that I want to do before I die."
She couldn't so much as think before his mouth was pressed against hers. Soft and hard, gentle and sure. All of the air seemed to leave the room and she couldn't breath. The only thing left was the way he made her feel.
She should push him away. They'd already crossed too many boundaries and broken so many rules. But the longer she laid there- groaning as his teeth tugged on her bottom lip and his tongue slipped past, meeting hers in a gentle duel- the more her defenses fell. The more she was reminded of that one night five years ago; the rain, their kiss, the tequila.
Tempe wouldn't push him away this time. She couldn't. She didn't want to. And for once in her life, she was going to do the irrational thing- something that she'd never believed in and had never wanted to experience until he'd blown into her life and turned everything upside down.
She was going to make love to Seeley Booth. FBI, logic, and stupid lines be damned.
Brennan tightened her grip around the underside of his thigh with her leg and rolled on top of him, finally kissing him back the way that she'd wanted to for so long now.
A little thrill ran through her as his hands automatically found their places on her hips, fingers slipping across that bare patch of skin between her shirt and the boxers she'd put on before going to sleep earlier. He groaned, a subdued rumble radiating outward from his chest beneath her own. It made her heart swell and her skin tighten with goosebumps.
Is this what she'd been missing out on?
Her pulse raced, thoughts swirling together until she couldn't think straight. It was disorienting. Such a loss of control, that if her body wasn't on fire with sensation she'd have put a stop to it long ago. But he was her rock, a blanket keeping her from the cold. If she were ever going to experience this, she'd chose him every time.
So she allowed herself to let go.
Moaning softly, his lips trailed down her neck, warm breath fanning across her shoulder. She shuddered, arching into him. Feeling him against her in a sexual connotation for the first time; contours and muscles, familiar yet alien.
She felt the soft cotton of her t-shirt slowly sliding up her back, fingers burning dizzying trails in it's wake. Helping him pull it past her shoulder blades and up over her head before getting tossed onto the floor, making her gasp as cool air lapped at bare skin.
Booth's eyes raked over her body. Across her flat stomach and up to her breasts before she leaned down and pressed them together from head to toe. Flesh to flesh.
Her stomach coiled with pleasure.
Everything began to blur.
In a flash of limbs and heavy panting, her world spun. Suddenly he was above her, pressing his lower body against hers. Hard and hot. It was delicious and terrifying.
His mouth trailed down her body- a hint of teeth against her shoulder, teasing nudges of his nose against the underside of her breasts, kisses slipping across her abdomen- and somehow he'd managed to slide her sleep shorts and panties down her legs without losing the contact. She was bare to the world. Never feeling more vulnerable or unsure of herself. Like a sixteen year old virgin all over again.
But none of that mattered.
"Booth?"
He froze, looking up at her, raw and open. Reminding her that she wasn't alone in this.
"Come here," she beckoned with a crooked finger and a voice wavering with emotion.
He obeyed, crawling back up the bed. Spreading her legs shyly, she welcomed him, curling around him, pulling him against her until he was forced to rest all of his weight on top of her.
Her hands cupped the sides of his face, gazing into his eyes. Thumbs tenderly wiping away any dampness that remained. That's when she leaned up, pressing her lips to his forehead. Tempe didn't know why she did it, it had just felt right. So she did it again, and again. To his cheeks and nose. Both eyelids, chin and finally his mouth.
Like a prayer, a whispered secret shared between them.
"I love you, Booth."
The words came fluttering out of her before she'd realized what she'd done, and she couldn't take them back. He gasped, releasing a tiny sob as his eyes slid shut. And for a moment, the tiniest sliver of time, before she realized what was going on, it felt like he'd ripped her heart out.
But then he was kissing her. Giving everything and taking it back in return.
"I know," he admitted softly.
"How? I didn't even know."
She didn't, that much was true. She was still quite certain that love was only a chemical reaction of dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin, but she did feel something for him. So if that something was love, then she supposed could live with that, not without some much needed debated later on though. She is still a scientist after all.
Booth smiled slowly before pressing another kiss to her lips, "Daffodil," kiss, "Daisy," kiss, "Jupiter. I just know, Bones."
She laughed. A heart filled release, so happy and free.
Then her fingers were sliding through his hair, gripping, tugging him down to her. Kissing him slowly, full of more passion than she'd ever felt or given before. It was overwhelming and scared her more than she'd like to admit, but she didn't back down.
The muscles in Booth's back trembled beneath her touch; trapezius, latissimus dorsi, thoracolumbar fascia, down to the gluteus maximus. Fingers slipping under the elastic of his brightly colored boxers, clutching, hips rocking up toward his as she pushed the fabric down over his ass.
They both moaned. His cock finally freed, hot and hard. Sliding against the apex of her thighs, pressed tightly between them. And even as she fought desperately to push his underwear past his knees with her feet, she felt him slip the tiniest bit, tortuously, against her sensitive flesh, and it was heaven.
But finally, over a half decade since they'd met, there was nothing between them.
No angst, no squints, no cases, no rules.
Just Booth and Brennan.
Temperance blinked heavily, letting a lazy smile emerge. They were really doing this, weren't they?
Booth smoothed her hair off of her forehead, cupping her cheek tenderly as he mirrored her grin, "You ready, Bones?"
She nodded shyly, but still steadfast and sure, before pressing her lips against his, "Always."
They took their time.
His kisses created a slow burn inside of her. His teasing touch, traveling down her sternum, slightest brush against her breasts, setting her skin ablaze.
Everything that he made her feel, everything he did was with purpose. He didn't have to say it out loud for her to know. Tempe couldn't explain it- knew that it was an intuitive leap, a foreign concept to her- but she figured that if there were ever a time to make an exception, it was now.
She tightened her legs around him, giggling uncharacteristically when he grunted and began kissing along her jaw, nipping just behind her ear. Then he was leaning, reaching for something in her bedside table. It was only when she heard the crinkle of a condom being opened that she realized what was going on.
"Wait."
"What?" he leaned up, searching her eyes, "What's wrong?"
Brennan took a deep breath, suddenly feeling extremely anxious, "Do you- do you remember what I asked you a few weeks ago?"
She watched as his brow creased in confusion. This was going to be harder than she thought.
"I know that this probably isn't the appropriate time," she hesitated, making sure that she kept his gaze before continuing, "but I stopped taking my birth control pill after that day at Wong Foo's."
His face sobered, recognition finally dawning on him, "And you want me to..."
Nodding, she reached up, tenderly running her palm over the side of his face before letting it come to rest over his heart. Waiting. Letting him fully process her request, knowing that he wouldn't take it lightly.
Twenty nerve wracking seconds passed, then thirty. She'd never quite understood the expression about one wearing their heart on their sleeve, but she expected that she was seeing it right now. Booth's face had changed multiple times, from what she interpreted as worry and fear to something else and then acceptance. She could've been wrong though.
"Are you sure, Bones?" he whispered, "I mean really sure. Because if this works and I die tomorrow on that table I won't be around to help you. It'll just be you and the squints and Russ and your Dad..."
"Don't talk like that, Booth! You're going to be-" his lips covered hers, clinging to her, drowning her words until she could no longer think straight, "-fine."
He pressed gentle kisses across her cheek and back again, "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do," she pleaded quietly, desperately wanting him to believe her, "And though I hadn't planned on it, you know how independent I am, you will be a part of this child's life. The surgery will be a success and he or she will grow up knowing their father."
"Yeah?"
She'd heard that small hint of hope in his voice before- asking her if she wanted Thai food after a case, Zack giving him the perfect Christmas gift for Parker when they'd been stuck in the Jeffersonian, when they'd been taking care of Andy. It made her heart warm and her throat tighten with emotion.
"I know it," she confirmed, without hesitation.
Booth chuckled softly, "I think you finally found your gut, Bones."
Her brow creased in confusion, gut?
"Oh, you mean my metaphorical gut?" she said, pleased to see his tentative smile growing, "Yes, I guess I have."
Booth shifted his weight, leaning to one side as he touched her, studying her. His fingertips dancing across her forehead, down her nose, and over her kiss-swollen lips. Making her feel as though he was trying to memorize her, commit her to memory while he still could.
"Okay."
"Okay?... Oh! You mean-" her eyes widened, "Really?"
He lifted the unused condom up for her to see and tossed it to the floor, "Really."
There was a moment between them where everything fell silent and his eyes danced gleefully, like they used to. She swore that she could hear his heart beating, feel it's strong thump against her own, and nothing else seemed to matter. Not the sound of traffic in the streets below or the imaginary clock ticking down what few hours she had left with him. Nothing was more important than the feeling of his skin against hers and hearing the steady rhythm of oxygen rushing into his lungs. It grounded her, made her feel safe, something she'd never experienced with another man before.
So when he leaned down and kissed her, this time it was different. She felt the contact from the top of her head right down to the tips of her toes. Of course her rational mind knew that it wasn't really possible, knew that a kiss could not be felt in any other part of her body than her lips, but she felt it anyways. The difference between now and then, you ask? She didn't question it. She let that part of herself go and finally allowed herself to feel freely, the way that he always told her she would.
Brennan's mouth parted, her legs wrapping around his back, and she welcomed him into her in every way. Into her body and into her soul. She savored it, quaking around him like a newborn foal as their hips began an age old dance and he invoked passion in parts of her that she hadn't even known existed.
Every nerve, every fiber of her being, was set ablaze. Each caress of his lips, each slide their bodies had her whimpering his name into the night. The tension between them began to build the longer they moved and worked in each other. She could already feel that familiar tightening low in her stomach, that pleasant tingle that made her back arch and her toes curl.
"Booth," she gasped, "Please!"
That was enough to break him. The muscles in his back twitched fitfully under her touch as he bent down and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it greedily as he thrust into her harder and faster.
Tempe's mind spun. Her nails dug into his skin and her breath caught in her throat. Focusing solely on the blinding heat at the apex of her thighs as it swelled and crashed, clenching and spasming around him from the inside out.
The last thing she remembered was feeling him groan against the side of her neck, his release flowing into her, before her world went pleasantly black...
Week Five
"People say you only live once. But people are as wrong about that as they are about everything. In the darkest moments before dawn, a woman returns to her bed. What life is she leading? Is it the same life the woman was living half an hour ago? A day ago? A year ago?
Who is this man? Do they lead separate lives? Or is it a single life shared?
A storm approaches and is still over the horizon, but there is lightening in the air. Are either of them aware of the gathering turbulence? Can they feel the crackle of the electricity in the wind? Or are they aware of only the power that they generate between themselves? The first hint of this storm is not a thunderclap. It is a knock."
Brennan spends the next five days sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in Booth's hospital room, reading aloud to him as she spins a wild tale of a couple who own a night club named, 'The Lab' where a body is found. If she were honest with herself, she'd admit that she saw them as that couple, that the life she portrays them in is the life that she wishes she had. One where she loved Booth freely, where she wasn't abandoned at fifteen, and where their pasts didn't haunt them at every corner. The longer Booth stayed in his coma though, the more outlandish her plot became. Cam and Jared were partners on the force, Angela was a hostess with bad spatial reasoning, all of the interns, including Zack, were members of the staff in one way or another, Sweets was the bartender, her father was a crooked politician working for a mob boss named the Gravedigger, and Hodgins was a crime novelist who hung out at the bar every night.
It's the first time that she's allowed herself to just sit and write. There were no scientific facts or carefully crafted images of a crime scene, every detail orchestrated to give the reader clues, to help them solve the case just as the characters would in her books. It was just her, a laptop, and her imagination. Anything to keep her mind off of the thought of the possibility of losing him.
Minutes blurred into hours and hours blurred into days. The only way that she ever noticed the passage of time is when Angela brought her a fresh change of clothes in the mornings, insisting that she showers and eats something before she kisses Booth chastely on the cheek and heads off to work. She hates it. Not the outward display of friendly affection, but the time that she has to herself. The time that she spends washing her body, remembering the night that they spent together. How she'd woken up wrapped in the safety of Booth's arms. Her entire body had been sore, but with the early morning sun warming her face and his breath tickling the back of her neck, she'd been content. Hell, she was more than content, she was happy. Really happy. But like all good things, it eventually had to come to an end...
Temperance sits there now, allowing the last few paragraphs of her story to fully sink in. She feels foolish, having written down everything that she's feeling- her emotions, her vulnerabilities- without censor or forethought. So before she can change her mind, she presses the delete button, and nearly one hundred twenty hours of writing has disappeared.
"It was such a weird dream."
She startles, looking up only to find Booth's eyes fluttering open, and her heart leaps in her chest, "Booth?"
He's alright.
Her computer is set carelessly onto the table next to her and she jumps up, immediately at his side with a smile on her face, "Booth? You're awake."
He looks at her in confusion and she figures it's just some minor disorientation from the drugs, like the doctor had told her might happen. So she clings to his hand, so warm and familiar around hers, and is more relieved than she's willing to admit.
"So real," he murmured.
"Your operation was a success, but you reacted poorly to the anesthesia. You've been in a coma for four days," she feels a tear slip from the corner of her eye, and sniffles before continuing, "It took you so long to wake up."
"It felt so real."
"It wasn't real," she reassures him, trying to make him understand that nothing he might have heard or dreamt about over the last few days was real.
But it's what he says next that breaks her heart.
"Who are you?"
It's then, and only then, that she remembers the words she'd written only a few minutes ago, and just how true they rang out now...
"You love someone, you open yourself up to suffering. That's the sad truth. Maybe they'll break your heart. Maybe you'll break their heart and never be able to look at yourself in the same way. Those are the risks. You see two people, and you think they belong together. But nothing happens. The thought of losing so much control over personal happiness is unbearable. That's the burden.
Like wings, they have weight, we feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us. Burdens that allow us to fly..."
And in that moment, as she lifts their clasped hands and sits down on the bed beside him, she finally realizes that she really does love him. That everything he's ever told her about love over the years, everything that she's fought so hard against, applies to her. How could it not?
So if she has to wait for him, to heal, to remember, she would. Because if there's one thing she knows, given enough time, everything changes.
End.