A/N: This is a post-ep for The Bikini in the Soup. It's short, but it hopefully captures this new aspect of their relationship accurately. Reviews are always appreciated!
Disclaimer: Would Booth and Bones be apart if I owned this show? Don't sue.
He almost smiles as he loads the weapon; the almost-smile is as close as he's come to being himself in weeks. I watch his eyes narrow as he points the gun. He does not flinch as the bullets fly and his body absorbs the weapon's recoil. I watch his pointer finger as it flexes against the trigger. He has a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he watches the bullets shred the target; it's the same gleam he had when he first kissed me, all those years ago.
I shoot my own gun, trying to keep my eyes on my target, rather than on his determined gaze. I suppose it's useless; I know I'll never match his perfect aim even on my best day.
His magazine empties and he shoots me what I'm almost sure is an authentic grin. "Thanks, Bones," he says. "I couldn't imagine a better Valentines Day."
I murmur acknowledgement and focus again on my target. This is certainly a far cry from the way he probably would have wanted to spend his day. He had probably already reserved a table at a fabulous restaurant, ordered the dozen roses, changed the sheets on the bed; he was probably planning a devastatingly romantic holiday with Hannah. Instead, Hannah is gone and he is here, holding an antique firearm, and trying to pretend it's all fine with him.
I put down my gun and watch him for a moment. He exudes power and masculinity; I cannot (should not) imagine how it would to feel to be on the receiving end of all that strength. I'm glad to bring this energy back to him, if only for a short while.
He empties four magazines before unloading the gun and switching on the safety. He carefully places the gun back in the box, giving my weapon the same treatment. Closing the latch of the carrying case, he hands it to me. Our hands brush as he returns the case. Before he lets go of the handle, he pulls me into a tight embrace. It hurts me to feel the tension in his arms, because even I realize that it comes from his feelings, and not any physical stress. I return his hug, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding on tightly. He pulls away a few more moments than a socially acceptable hug would normally last, but I don't mind. Booth smiles that sad half-smile and waves goodbye, trudging out the door.
Much as I want to, I do not follow him. Angela tells me Booth needs to be alone and "figure things out." While this term seems imprecise and more than a little vague, I can appreciate the need for time. And so, I will let him hold me when he is scared and lonely. I will try to help him heal.
I cannot give him his happiness. I cannot mend his crushed heart. I cannot even love him the way he deserves. But I can give him this. I can give him this gun, and I can spend my Valentines Day blasting away his demons. I cannot live happily ever after with him; but I can be what he needs right now. I owe him that.