Points in Between Touch Point, a bones fanfic

Touch Point (Formerly Shelter, Sanctuary and Support)

A/N2: Ok, quite a few people asked me what happened in the four year gap between Starting and Breaking Point and how did the couple in the first fic get to be the couple in the second fic? They almost sound like different people. I wrote Starting Point after I wrote Breaking Point but I tried to forecast what would come later. And in Breaking Point, I tried to explain a little what made Brennan regress so much. But I understand you guys wanting to know what happened in those years. I won't write a proper fic covering those years because in my mind they're settled. I just can't come up with a story for them but I can give you one shots that give us glimpses into BB's lives in those years. Most will be songfics that I think fit BB and which show them in different situations. This first chapter is a repost but the next one is a new one. Please let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor the song are mine, more's the pity.

A/N: I know I said I was going to concentrate on Aliens but I heard this song and I had to write this! And less than four hours later, it was written. This may very well be the fastest I've written a fic. Again, it's somewhat different than my usual and though, it's fluffy, it is not what you'd call happy. It's BB, though, dont worry about that. Ok, the song is "For You I Will" by Monica. Please let me know what you think, like I said it's different and I'd like to know your thoughts on it.

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"So, sweetie," Angela said, as she walked into Brennan's office. "Are you ready for Valentine's Day? Today is also sort of an anniversary for you guys, isn't it?" Angela asked, rubbing her hands together, with an unholy gleam in her eyes, as she dropped onto the chair in front of Brennan's desk. The gleam and wide smile slowly faded, as she took a good look at Brennan's face. "Sweetie," she said, as she leaned forward, "What is it? What's wrong? Did you two have a fight or something?"

"No," Brennan answered, shaking her head, as she slowly put down the report she had been reading when Angela walked in. "We didn't."

"Then what is it?" Angela pressed, but couldn't wait for Brennan to answer; too many bad things were going through her mind at the moment. "Is it Booth? Is something wrong with him? Or your dad? Russ?"

"No, no," Brennan answered, putting her hand up to stop the deluge of questions coming from Angela. If she wasn't so worried about the news she'd just gotten, she'd find Angela's reaction funny. "It's not my dad or Russ. They're fine."

"So, it's Booth," Angela concluded. "Is it Parker? Is he ok?"

"Angela," Brennan said firmly, stopping another litany of questions from getting started. "Both Booth and Parker are okay," she told the worried artist.

"Then what is it?" Angela asked after a few moments, when Brennan didn't go on.

"Well," Brennan said with a deep sigh. "I just received the record for that soldier the Army sent us a few days ago."

"Oh," Angela said, as she reached forward to receive the folder from Brennan. "Major Edward Roberts, 27, engaged. That's sad," Angela said with a small shake of her head. "They're always sad," she added, studying Brennan's face. "Why is this one affecting you so badly?"

"He was in the same outfit as Booth, Angela," Brennan informed her, in a low voice.

"Oh," Angela said again, blinking slowly, as she looked back down at the folder. She saw the outfit's name, but it didn't mean anything to her; she figured that Brennan would know better than her what outfit Booth was with while he was a Ranger. "Do you think Booth knew him?"

"Yes," Brennan answered simply. "I'm pretty sure he did."

"How can you be so sure?" Angela asked, as she put down the folder and settled back onto her chair.

"I . . ." Brennan opened her mouth and then closed it without saying anything. She was never sure how much of what Booth shared with her was ok to share with Angela. "I really don't think I can go into it, Angela. Booth told me and I don't think he'd like it if," she started to explain, apologetically, when Angela interrupted her.

"He wouldn't like it if you told me," Angela said, with a nod. "I understand, Bren. No hard feelings. There are some things you share with your significant other that you wouldn't want to share with anyone else. So, don't worry about it. Just tell me whatever you're comfortable telling me. If that's only that you're sure Booth knew him, then that's fine too."

"Thanks, Angela," Brennan said, with a small smile, thankful her best friend was so understandable. "I think that Booth not only knew Major Roberts, but that he was there when he was killed."

"Oh," Angela said, for the third time, for once, at a loss as to what to say. "What are you going to do?" Angela asked, knowing there was no point in asking whether she was sure.

"What can I do?" Brennan asked, as she picked up the folder and stood up. "I'm going to send the remains and the information back to the Army, like always."

"I meant about Booth, Bren," Angela clarified, as she followed suit and also stood up. "Are you going to tell him or keep it to yourself?"

"I don't think I can keep it to myself," Brennan said, sighing, as she stopped putting the papers together and looked back up at Angela. "That's too close to lying and I don't lie to Booth. Plus, he knows me too well; one look at me and he'll know something's up."

"Yes," Angela nodded. Booth did know Brennan remarkably well; but the opposite was true, also. "Are you going to tell him tonight or wait until after Valentine's Day?"

"I'd love to wait until tomorrow," Brennan admitted, with a rueful smile. "But I won't be able to act naturally tonight, and enjoy the evening, knowing this. And he'll know something's wrong."

"He probably will," Angela agreed. "I guess you'll have to tell him tonight then."

"I was actually thinking of telling him during lunch," she said, as she looked at her watch. "He called me an hour ago, and we're meeting at the diner in less than two hours." After saying that, she let the papers she was holding drop back to her desk, even as she fell back onto her chair. "What am I going to do, Angela?" She asked, in a rough whisper, as she dropped her head onto the chairs back and closed her eyes. "How am I going to tell him?"

"Ah, sweetie," Angela said, as she walked around the desk and gripped one of Brennan's hands. "You'll just tell him straight out. It's the way you work best and the best way, really."

"He's not going to take it well," Brennan predicted, almost as if she hadn't heard what Angela said. "He's going to blame himself."

Angela had to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking why Booth would do such a thing; she knew Brennan wouldn't answer.

"How am I going to help him?" Brennan asked, again, and Angela wasn't sure if Brennan was asking her or just voicing her doubts out loud.

"Sweetie," Angela answered, regardless of Brennan's intentions, she couldn't stay quiet when her friend was so distraught. "You just have to be there for him; let him know that you'll be there to hear him out, if he needs to talk, or just to hold him, if that's what he needs. Tell him that he's not alone and that you'll always be there when he needs you. Basically, you have to do for him, what he does for you, when you're the one in pain."

Brennan opened her eyes and looked at Angela for a few moments before she finally nodded. "You're right," she said as she sat up. "That's just what I have to do. I have to try and be Booth."

"Yep," Angela agreed, with a grin, as she started to walk to the office's door. "You get to be the sensitive, caring, emotionally stable one in the relationship tonight." She turned around in time to catch Brennan's grimace at that prospect. She laughed before sobering up and sincerely telling her, "Don't worry so much, Bren. You know Booth better than anyone; you'll know what you need to do."

"Thanks Angela," Brennan said sincerely, with a small smile, watching as the other woman waved and left her office. With a sigh, she turned back to her desk and began to once again put in order all the paperwork to send along with the remains of Major Roberts.

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More than five hours later, Brennan walked into the Hoover building, wondering if Angela had overestimated her power and knowledge to help Booth. He had been in such a good mood when she met him at the diner for lunch, she remembered, as she stopped in front of the elevator. She hadn't wanted to ruin it and had tried to act normal so that they could at least enjoy their lunch. But like she had predicted, he knew her too well and had known that something was wrong pretty quickly.

Trying to deny it, or put it off, hadn't worked, so she had finally caved and told him. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to erase the memory of his face as he absorbed the news. It was a look she never wanted to see on his face again and she'd do almost anything to make sure that he never had a reason to don it again. She opened her eyes when the ping of the elevator announced its arrival and she stepped in, after the people coming down had left. Given the late hour, she had the elevator to herself and she slumped against the elevator wall as soon as the door closed.

Pressing the button for his floor, she decided that the awful silence that followed her news was as bad as the look on his face. Booth was never silent; whether he was mad, scared, tired, happy, or aroused, he always had something to say. To see him so quiet and withdrawn, was like seeing a stranger, and she hadn't known how to react.

She didn't know what to do with a Booth that had nothing to say. How was she supposed to know what to say if he didn't give her anything to work with? How was she to know what he needed, when he shut down, and looked at her out of eyes that showed none of the emotions he usually exuded? How could she help him, if he looked as if he didn't want help?

With a sigh, she straightened when the elevator arrived at his floor; she put those questions out of her head, walked out of the elevator, towards his office, truly determined, she was going to help him. He had always helped her, when she needed it and she had to – no, she needed to do the same for him. Knowing he was hurting and not doing something about it hurt, so, she darn well was going to do something about it.

All the fire and determination she felt left her when she arrived at his office door and saw him slumped on his chair, with his eyes closed, and his face drawn, as if he were in pain. With a look around her, and silent thanks that the floor was pretty much deserted, she stepped into his office, and quietly closed the door. She leaned against the door for a minute and just studied him.

It seemed inconceivable that this was the same man that had just, that morning, jumped out of bed, and chased her to the bathroom, laughing all the way. Now, he looked sick; almost as if he'd caught some incurable disease and was dying. No, she resolutely shook her head, and banished such thoughts. He was not dying; he was sad, and depressed, but he wasn't sick, and he was not dying. With one last, deep, breath, she let go of the door and took one step forward.

"Booth," she said softly, as she walked around his desk, towards his chair.

"Bones," he said, as his eyes opened. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to see if you were ready to go home," she told him, as she leaned on his desk, facing him. "It's past seven, and since you haven't called, or stopped by to make sure I left at an appropriate hour, I thought maybe you'd gotten caught up in work and needed me to come and make you go home for once."

"Past seven?" he asked, absentmindedly looking at his watch. "Sorry, I hadn't realized it was so late. But you didn't need to come all this way; you could have just called."

"Booth it's not that far," she protested, and watched, as he turned his attention to his desk, and tried to figure out what to do with the papers on it. "Besides, don't you remember? Tonight's Valentine's Day. We were supposed to go out." She told him, not because she had any intention of going out, but because she wanted to see some reaction from him, other than apathy.

"Valentine's," Booth murmured, as if he'd never heard of the holiday before. "I'm sorry, Bones. I got caught up in work and forgot all about it. You think maybe we could celebrate it some other night?" he asked her, with a poor imitation of his usual charm smile.

"Sure, Booth," Brennan answered, studying him closely. "I don't care when we celebrate it. After all, February 14th is an arbitrary date, to celebrate what has basically become a commercial holiday. The meaning, if it ever had any meaning, has by now been lost to the over commercialization of the day, and is buried beneath a mountain of flowers, candy and/or jewelry."

She stopped to see if he would roll his eyes, and take the opportunity to stop the lecture, saying that she was too analytical. But when he just nodded, and continued to stare at the same piece of paper he'd picked up minutes ago, and which she was willing to bet he hadn't read, she just closed her eyes and tried to think of what to do.

"What I do care about," she continued, after a few moments of silence, "is when you shut me out, don't tell me what's bothering and don't let me help you through it," she said, gently, but with enough force, that his head snapped up to look at her.

"Bones, I. . ." he started to say, only to check his head, and drop his eyes back to his desk.

"Booth, please," she told him, as she moved closer to him, and placing a finger beneath his chin, raised his head. "Talk to me, let me help you. Please," she entreated him, looking steadily into his eyes.

"I don't know what to tell you, Bones," he said, softly.

"Whatever it is that you're feeling right now," she told him, and with a faint grin, she added, "Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

"Yes, but," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not sure where to start, or what is it that I'm feeling, really."

"You start at the beginning," she told him simply. "And you'll figure out what it is that you feel, as you start talking," she added firmly and from experience. "The important thing is to talk. If you don't, everything you're feeling will just stay inside you, and will fester until it poisons you." She paused and looking at him she chided, "You know all this, Booth. You've told me often enough."

"I know," he said, before he sighed, and rubbed his hands over his face. He then sat back on his chair, gazed at her, and started talking, "I just don't like to go back there, you know?"

"I know," she said, softly with a nod, and then because he needed it, and frankly, so did she, she pushed back from the desk, took a few steps, and sat on his lap. Placing one of her arms behind his neck, and the other around his waist, she laid her head on his shoulder and told him, "I'm here, Seeley. I'll always be here."

"Thank you, Temperance," he said, after kissing her forehead. A few minutes later, he started to talk. "There's so much hatred in the world; so much death."

"I know," she nodded, thinking of all the dead bodies she'd seen, of all the bones she'd had to identify in the past. She shifted on his lap, and got more comfortable, as he finally started to talk, and tell her about the things he'd never really talked about with anyone before.

And in the next hour, Brennan was for Booth what he'd always been for her: the strength and support he needed as his past rose and overshadowed his present.

As they arrived home, later that night, Brennan remembered the CD she'd burned earlier that week. Since she didn't agree with the commercialization of the holiday, they'd agreed to not exchange presents - at least not ones that were bought. Angela had given her the idea a few weeks ago, and despite the fact that it made her feel like a teenager with a crush, she'd spent most of her free time looking for songs that reminded her of him and their relationship and made him a CD of them.

"I have something for you," she said, as they cuddled on the sofa, after eating dinner. She shifted, pulled her purse closer to her and took out the CD. "Here, I made this for you. I hope you like it," she told him, as she leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day," she whispered, against his lips.

"Bones," he said turning the CD over in his hands. "Thank you. Your present is back at my place. I'm sorry, I thought we'd end up back there," he started to apologize, but she cut him off.

"I don't mind, Booth, really." With a smile, she took back the CD and walked to her stereo. "You can listen to the whole thing later if you want, but right now," she paused and he was surprised and touched to see her blush. "Well, everything that's happened tonight . . . I just think it's appropriate. And it's how I feel - how you make me feel, and how I hope I make you feel. Oh," she added, when she saw his grin, "let's just listen, ok?" She asked, before turning around to hit play, after finding the right track number.

"Come here, Temperance," Booth said softly, when she seemed to be considering staying by the stereo. With a soft smile, she turned and walked back towards the couch. She sat down and snuggled back into him and both turned their attention to the song.

When you're feeling lost in the night,
When you feel your world just ain't right,
Call on me, I will be waiting
Count on me, I will be there
Anytime the times get too tough,
Anytime your best ain't enough
I'll be the one to make it better,
I'll be there to protect you,
See you through,
I'll be there and there is nothing
I won't do

I will cross the ocean for you
I will go and bring you the moon
I will be your hero your strength
Anything you need
I will be the sun in your sky
I will light your way for all time
Promise you,
For you I will

I will shield your heart from the rain
I will let no harm come your way
Oh these arms will be your shelter
No these arms won't let you down,
If there is a mountain to move
I will move that mountain for you
I'm here for you, I'm here forever
I will be your fortress, tall and strong
I'll keep you safe,
I'll stand beside you, right or wrong

For you I will, lay my life on the line
For you I will fight, oh
For you I will die
With every breath, with all my soul
I'll give my world, I'll give it all
Put your faith in me (put your faith in me)
And I'll do anything

I will cross the ocean for you (I will cross the ocean)
I will go and bring you the moon(yeah I'll bring the moon)
I will be your hero your strength (oh I will be your hero)
Anything you need (I will be oh)
I will be the sun in your sky
I will light your way for all times
Promise you (promise you)
For you I will

I will, I will, I will

"Temperance," Booth whispered, after the song ended. He had to pause, to take a deep breath, and control the emotions that had reared up, and grabbed him by the throat. After swallowing down the impulse to break out into sobs, he managed to choke out, "I love it. Thank you, Temperance. It's the best Valentine's gift I've ever gotten."

"You're welcome," she said, blinking away a few tears of her own. Seeing him emotional always affected her too. "It's appropriate, isn't it? You're always there for me."

"And you're always there for me," Booth said, as he pulled her in for a kiss, "So, yes, very appropriate."