A/N: Sorry...forgot to mention this is the sequel for "The Myth of Winter". There will be more to come, so stay tuned. As always, don't own the characters.
Voices filtered in out of his dream, originating from faces he could not see. Darkness surrounded him, a blackness so thick it choked him. The only light entering the cell came from the flashes of lightning that filtered in through the three missing bricks that served as a window. His heart thrummed quickly in his chest. He was back in a place he dreaded most. The cell in some god forsaken country, with no hope of escape. His mouth opened, ready to let loose a scream, but no sound came. Tears filled his eyes as he reached out to pound a fist against the wall, gasping in pain from the stone hitting his weakened fists.
He woke with gasp, damp streams falling down his cheeks. Lightning flickered outside, followed by the deep rumble of thunder. The storm had been brewing all day, the heat of the summer made worse by the thick humidity that hung in the air. He fell back against the sheets, hand fumbling for the alarm clock beside his bed. 3:00am. Twenty more minutes of sleep than he had received the night before. With a sigh, he pushed himself off his bed and went into the living room, flicking the lights on.
It'd been two months since he'd been rescued from the hellhole of a prison he'd been kept in. One month since his return to Washington D.C. One week since he'd been cleared for duty with the FBI. Two weeks of counseling with Sweets and Gordon Gordon and the nightmares still remained. He knew two months of sleepless nights had already started to show. Dark circles under his eyes, gaunt cheeks and an unnatural pale tone had dulled out the healthy tan he'd once had. As if the face he saw in the mirror every day wasn't enough of a reminder, the sorrow and worried faces he saw everyday just confirmed it. They walked in eggshells around him. Afraid to mention, to timid to ask. The only person to barrage ahead through the invisible barriers everyone was afraid to cross was Bones.
He'd thought his return might change their relationship and in some ways, in had. He didn't know if it was for the better or worst. It was just different from before. She opened up more and listened to him more, but the touches had become less. As if she was afraid that if she touched him, he really wouldn't be there. They'd both been traumatized by the experience. She, terrified he was gone for good. He, still troubled by the torture he'd endured. As a Ranger, he'd learned that there were things worse than death. Pain, torture, torment…anything that could warp the mind into believing anything the captors wanted the captured to believe. In a way, his capture felt like karma. Retribution for all of the people he had killed, helped to be captured. In the prison, he had prayed every day he would be found. Never once was a prayer for death muttered. Faith had taught him to trust in God. Love had taught him to never give up.
He poured coffee into a filter and started his coffee machine, sitting on the couch and eyeing the paperwork he'd brought home with him. There'd been no cases in the past week, so he'd had little reason to see Bones. Paperwork, unfortunately, was a constant and had built up in his absence. He idly picked up a pen and began to fill out the requisite areas, only pausing to get a cup of coffee when the pot had stopped brewing.
Forty-five minutes later, he heard a knock on his door. He looked through the peephole and saw his partner on the other side. Without a moment's pause, he opened the door.
He saw her hesitation for a moment. The lip she chewed on, the slump of her shoulders; on her, the look seemed so out of place that it stood out all the more. "I saw your light on," she said, by way of explanation. "I was going to the lab and I thought, if you were up, maybe…maybe we could have breakfast."
He studied her for a moment, seeing for the first time in weeks, darkness under her eyes and the pale tone of her skin. He wasn't the only one who hadn't been sleeping. "Sure," he said, moving out of the doorway so she could enter, "Just let me get changed." She nodded, wrapping her arms around her as her eyes roamed around his apartment. Familiar pictures of Parker, friends and family were scattered around. Dishes piled in the sink. Drawings on the fridge. All were signs of the life he's living. She didn't know why she was still haunted by the fact that she would wake up one day, only to find him gone again.
She'd hoped their relationship would change. He would come back, all of their feelings would be in the open and they'd begin a relationship. A real one. Not one defined by lines or their partnership. But, as always, she drew away. They'd spent the first few nights after his return together. Never moving past touching and holding. She'd encouraged him through his counseling sessions, visited him after she got done at the lab each day. Then, something change. A shift occurred. He seemed withdrawn, quiet and timid. She'd tried asking, even going so far as threatening to not leave until he talked. That night only ended with a door clicking shut as he withdrew to his room.
She didn't know what had happened to him, of the tortures he'd endured. She only knew what he x-rays and scans showed. Broken bones, bruising and scars. He never spoke of his time in the prison. The only admission that he'd made was that he'd prayed every night. Not for death, but for his return to the life he knew.
Movement from the bedroom caught her attention and he walked in, wearing a shirt and jeans. The shirt once clung to his muscles. Now, it billowed slightly on his figure. The jeans that once hugged his curves now hung to his hips by a belt. "I'll drive," he said, grabbing his keys. She didn't protest. Only followed him out the door towards his car.
The ride to the diner was silent. The only sound came from the windshield wipers dragging across the windshield. He parked and climbed out, following her in. The diner was fairly empty. Only a couple sat in at a corner table, giggling and laughing, still intoxicated from their night's activities. Without asking, the waitress brought them both coffee, creams and sugars. Without glancing at the menus, both placed their orders. Silence fell between them once more.
"How's Parker doing?" She was the first to speak, choosing a subject that was safe for both of them.
"Fine," he replied, "Made an A on his science test."
"Did the cell kit help?" He smiled and nodded, sipping his coffee. She'd purchased the cell kit for his son, upon learning he was struggling with a cell's anatomy. Like herself, Parker learned best by touching.
"The gel stuff got everywhere," he said, "He wanted you to be there to help."
"You should have called," she said, "I was just working on a few cases in Limbo." Six months ago, that phrase would have never come out of her mouth. She would have never given up identifying bones to help his son on a science project. At least, not voluntarily. It was one more testament to how things had changed between them.
"I didn't want to interrupt," he said, "You gave up a lot of your life to be with him when I was gone." Silence fell between them and the topic, which had once been safe, now drifted into treacherous territory. His absence, his disappearance. Subjects that remained strictly taboo, for some unknown reason.
"I liked spending time with him. It helped…when you were gone." She'd grown tired of taboo subjects. Dancing around his being gone, as if it'd never happened.
"I'm glad." He clammed up once more, reaching for his cup of coffee and taking a sip. Their food arrived and he couldn't think of a time he had been more grateful for the interruption. "So, when's this conference that you're going to?" Just like that, the conversation went from the taboo to the safe. He knew anything to do with her work would steer from uncomfortable territory.
"In two weeks," she said, "I'll only be gone for a week. Mister Fisher is the intern scheduled for duty that week, should you need anything." He snorted and rolled his eyes at the thought of the depressive intern assisting him with a case.
"That'll be an uplifting week," he said, giving her a smile, to show that he was joking. "Where's the conference at again?"
She smiled and began to talk about the conference. The location, the sessions she was presenting on and the ones she would attend. She knew he was avoiding the topic they most needed to talk about it. The one that involved him being gone and the shift in their relationship. However, the diner at five in the morning hardly seemed the time and place for that conversation, so she rambled on about the conference and herself. One of the few things that made him smile these days.