A/N: This is my first attempt at Bones fanfiction. I'm a fan of the show and decided to try my hand at writing for it. Hopefully it won't be too painful :-)
There's a Fine Line
It was nearly one when there was a knock on his door.
His mind fuzzy with sleep, he pulled himself from his bed and padded through his bedroom, his cluttered living room, and finally to the door. He did not know what would be waiting for him behind the door and while fleeting possibilities passed through his mind, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he opened the door. He had seen a lot of terrible things in his line of work, but the sight of her crumpled clothes, the darkening bruise under her left eye, made him sick.
"Bones."
"Can I come in?"
He stepped out of the way without a word and she walked in, sitting on the same couch that she had sat on countless times, yet this time it felt different. Before he could ask her what had happened she said, "He came to my apartment."
Booth's blood ran cold at the words. Flashes of their last case filled his mind until all he could see were knobby bones, mouths open in silent screams.
Her blood stained clothes.
"Sweets was right," she continued. "I should have been more careful."
"What happened?"
"He's dead," she said, and Booth let out an exhalation he wasn't aware he was holding.
"What happened?" He repeated.
"I got home late from the lab," she said, shifting on the couch. "I was working on Rachel Sullivan's skeleton."
He nodded and thought to himself, Another one of the bastard's victims.
Calmly, Bones continued, "I got home around eleven and he was waiting for me in the apartment. I didn't see him when I first entered-he was hiding just behind the door-and then he attacked me."
Booth recalled the sociopath's weapon of choice and shuddered.
"He missed me the first time, my reflexes must have been heightened by the high stress situation, and it gave me just enough time to gain my bearings."
Bones described how she pulled her gun from its holster, her voice faltering for the first time, and then how she shot him three times through the chest. Looking down at her hands she said, "He pitched forward after I shot him and I didn't move quickly enough. That's why I have his blood on me?."
"Do you want a change of clothes?" Booth asked after a moment, standing up. Bones nodded and he walked quickly to his room. In his opinion, the sooner she changed the better. He hated that Alan Hoffman's blood was on her. He hated the fact that the creep had been lying in wait for her, that he had almost lost her to him. He stopped at the thought.
He had almost lost her.
Clothes in hand, he returned to the living room. She made a movement as if she was going to rise from the couch but then sat back down. Her eyes were trained on the clothes as she said, "I don't mean to impose on you, Booth. I feel terrible coming here this late."
"Bones-"
"But I had nowhere else to go. My apartment is a crime scene and Angela didn't answer her phone."
"Temperence."
The use of her real name drew her attention and she swept her blue eyes to meet his own. Softly he said, "You're always welcome here."
Her lips pulled up into a small smile as she nodded, and then she stood up and padded over to the bathroom. When she emerged, his clothes hanging loosely from her slim frame, he thought to himself that he had never seen anything more beautiful.
"Sorry that I don't have anything smaller," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's not your fault," she answered. "You're physically larger than I am. It's logical that-
"I know, Bones. It was a nicety."
"A nicety," she repeated.
"I think we should get you to bed, Bones."
There it was again, that little smile, and he couldn't help but smile a bit himself as he walked over to the closet and pulled out a blanket.
"Oh, I don't need anything," Bones said. "I've inconvenienced you enough, please."
"This is for me," Booth told her, tossing the blanket next to her. "You get the bed."
He knew she would argue so it did not surprise him when she shook her head and said, "No, I can't-"
"Yes, you can. Listen, this is my house and I am saying that you get the bed. End of story, Bones."
"Fine," she sighed. "At least get yourself a pillow, though."
The fact that after nearly being killed, Bones would worry that he didn't have a pillow made him shake his head as he headed into his room. He emerged with a pillow and then inclined his head towards his bedroom. "Alright, Bones. Off to bed with you."
She stood up and as she walked past him he grabbed her wrist on impulse, immediately feeling guilty as he saw the way her eyes widened, her cheeks paled. He dropped her wrist and said, "I, uh, just wanted to say goodnight."
"Okay, goodnight."
"Goodnight."
He had expected sleep would elude him. Therefore it wasn't a surprise when he watched the hours tick by, the darkness of night turning into the soft orange of morning. What he hadn't expected was to hear the soft padding of her feet on the carpet. Or to feel her settle on the ground beneath him. She didn't know he was awake and silently he watched her draw her knees into her chest, resting her chin on them. She took in one shaky breath after another and then he realized, with a sinking heart, that she was crying. He rose up on his elbow and murmured, "Bones."
Her tear-stained face turned to him and it seemed to crumple as he leaned forward and pulled her to his chest. Fingers tenderly stroking her hair, Booth heard Bones in anguish for the first time and it cut worse than a knife.
"You're safe now," he murmured against her ear. "I won't let anything happen to you."
"I felt their fear, Booth," she said in a hushed voice. "I deal with death everyday but I've never really felt anything. I focus on the weapon or the bones, not the person."
She looked at Booth with naked fear in her eyes. "But I feel now, Booth. I feel and it scares the hell out of me."
He didn't know whether or not it was appropriate to touch her face, to wipe away her tears, but he did it nonetheless. Her skin was soft under his fingers and he had a sudden urge to press his lips to that same skin, to taste her tears.
"I'm okay now," she said softly, pulling away. He blinked rapidly and nodded, pulling his fingertips from her face. As she wiped daintily at her eyes, he realized just how close he had come to crossing that line.
"I'll make some coffee," she said as she stood up.
He thought of telling her not to, but years of working with Bones reminded him that she would not listen. Instead, he pulled himself from the couch and set to making the rest of breakfast. He found the few boxes of cereal he had and placed them on the table. Two bowls and spoons followed.
The coffee machine hummed in the background.
"Your eye looks better," Booth offered, sitting at the table.
"Really?"
He nodded. "It's more of a violet shade now."
She smiled weakly and then grabbed the box of granola. He watched her covertly eye the ingredients and said, "Yeah, sorry I don't have any of that vegan stuff."
"It's fine."
"Most of it tastes like cardboard to me."
A genuine smile graced her features. "That's just because you haven't tried the right products."
"Well, maybe one day I'll let you try to convert me."
"You'd be a tough sell," Bones told him with a smirk that he had come to see as his own.
In a tone that was far too serious he told her, "I'm willing to give it a try."
Her eyes widened a bit and he thought that maybe, just maybe, she saw that he was talking about more than just food.
"Coffee's ready," she said in a strange voice. "You want some?"
"Uh, yeah, sure."
She returned with two cups and after she pushed one toward Booth he saw her eyebrows work into a furrow. Before he could speak she said, "I don't like breaking down in front of people. You, um, you know my history and it's hard for me to really trust people." She looked down at her hands. "You're one of those people, though, Booth. I just want you to know that."
Without hesitation he reached across the table and took her hand.
Her fingers curled around his.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave feedback :-)