Hello everyone!
I know I should be working on my three other stories, but I couldn't geth this out of my head! It is angst ridden for sure. Slight slash I guess. No graphic sex here in the first chapter. Lots of language. Hodgins' POV. Oh and AU. I do a lot of those. lol Essentially Booth comes to Hodgins for comfort to Jack's confusion and ends revealing a lot about himself. Hodgins tries to help him, but one thing leads to another and...yeah you have to read it. lol I apologize ahead of time for the lack continuity to the show. This doesn't follow that time line. IN my story, Bones left for a second dig. Booth is in his six week out, but...oh golly just read it. You'll understand along the way. lol I took creative liberties. But it's AU and a fanfic. People offended get a grip! lol Just kidding.
Song used is "When It Rains" by Paramore from their album "RIOT!" (Fantastic album!)
I could keep this a one shot, but I might make it a two shot if people think I could do it. That's why I said first chapter there in the begining. If I make it a two shot, I will more than probably have a full story with it for a sequel. I already have ideas spinning in my head. Oh boy it could be really fun! LMK
Please enjoy and leave coments of the good the bad and the ugly thoughts. lol I love to hear what people think!
Angsty ;-)
Oh, and nothing belongs to me except the plot. And even that belongs to muse. Damn.
"Hi." Booth says flatly into my darkened parlor room. A Jeffersonian party was held here tonight in my mansion that he obviously attended. I'm not totally sure why he is still here, but there is some part of my brain somewhere saying I'm glad to not be alone.
"Hey." I answer back. For what else am I going to say? Booth and I have never been the best of friends. Sure, we get along well enough; but he and I have an unspoken understanding to silently loathe the other. It's worked for the better part of five years, why change now?
"How are you, Jack?" Now there is a loaded question. And where does he get off calling me Jack?
"Fine, I guess. You?" This is so strange to be trading normal congenial conversation with this even curiousor FBI Special Agent. There are a lot of things I have never and will never understand about Booth. However, right now isn't the time to dwell.
"Okay. Still a little sore in the back of my head, but…yeah otherwise okay." He sighs then, and invites himself to sit down.
"Oh, I guess, you would be. It's been what? Four weeks?" I ask feeling slightly guilty for not asking sooner. The bigger man did just have brain surgery.
"Six and a half." He replies.
"Oh." Is my response. How did I miss that?
A silence settles then for a few minutes. I stay by my large window that overlooks my expansive courts of green; he stays in my small decorative love seat staring at the large window behind my head. I can tell he has something heavy on his mind. Don't know what, but I somehow feel like I'm supposed to guess. I observe his pensive face with one of my own. I have never seen Booth so quiet before.
Part of me feels pity for the man. I've heard through the grapevine, he's having trouble remembering a lot of what he was. Even who he was. Booth for everyone had always been the constant. When everything was falling down, Booth was there holding the base of it all to keep it from fully toppling over. I guess for the longest time I envied that. I envied him.
I envied his strength and not just the physical strength though he certainly is physically strong. I envied his ability to pull through anything with a smile on his face, no matter how fake it was. I envied his pride and unapologetic view he had on who he was and what he stood for. I envied the smirk that screamed I know what you're hiding. What I most envied about Booth though was his acting skills. Because while I envied all of these superficial traits that this Greek god carried, I also knew it was only his façade.
Booth may appear to be a man with the plan, always in control, and always knowing just what to say to make you feel better. Booth may appear to not have many problems with life. Booth may even appear that he actually gives a damn about the world and its problems…but he doesn't and he isn't. Booth is just like the rest of us losers that can't scrape enough brain cells together to even keep the attention of a woman for longer than what I could.
And yes, I am referring to Angela.
"Is something on your mind, Booth?" I finally ask when I had my fill of doing my external evaluation. After I say it though, I realize how stupid it must have sounded. If he didn't need to talk to me, why would he be here?
He looks up at me, startled, as if just remembering where he was. With a slight shake of his head, he replies. "Yeah, actually there is."
I move to sit down when I stop. This looks like it calls for alcohol, if the vibe was clear enough for me. I head over to my scotch table and grab a couple tumblers and the bottle. This is going to be a long conversation.
After pouring each one of us a glass and his mumbled thanks, another silence settles. This is one of contemplation though I can tell form his end. He isn't sure where to start.
"Bones left for another Guatemalan dig." He finally says to my confusion. What does Dr. Brennan have to do with anything?
"Okay…is that what this is about?" I ask as gently as I could. Booth stares into the crystal of my cups as if they were his last precious gem to hold. This makes me start to become unsettled. Why does he look so lost?
"No. Just thought you wanted to know." He goes quiet again and it stretches so long I wonder if an hour passes.
I have never noticed how innocent his face is, when not on the defensive. Granted, I have never not seen Booth on the defensive. If that sentence even made sense. I pour another glass and observe the way he reaches for it like a starving man for food. Either he really likes my scotch, or he really needs this liquid encouragement to talk. Suddenly I begin to wonder if he is even supposed to have alcohol right now. Six and a half weeks out…yeah, maybe he could I guess. I'll just have to watch him.
"What do you…gah…" he sighs and rubs his face. I jerk slightly from the unexpected voice. I had been drowning in my thoughts. If he noticed, he sure didn't show it.
"What do I what?" I ask.
He sighs again. "What do you think of me?"
I stare wide eyed at this beautiful creature before me. What do I think of him? Where to begin? I have already listed what I envy of him, but I haven't begun to talk about what my personal belief of what or who he is. "I don't fully understand the question." I cop out. I know what he is looking for, but damn it I just can't go there right now.
"Of me. What do you think of me? Am I intelligent? Am I stupid? Am I quixotic? Do you think I'm ugly…or attractive? What do you think of me, Jack?" he asks insistently. He obviously needs this answer as much as he needs breath. Shit, what do I do? I can't shatter the obvious last string he is holding onto.
"Booth, slow down." I say instead of answer the question. "Why is this so important?"
He makes an angry noise and pushes to stand up from the chair. I stare wide eyed as he practically stomps to my window. He then freezes, staring down at the leaving cars and shuffling people. This time when he sighs, it's dripping with sadness. I am completely confused as to what has broken this man I used to think Zeus couldn't even hold a candle to.
"All of my life," he finally begins after I hear a car door slam and an engine start. "I have been taught, conditioned to be able to withstand even the worst of situations. Whether it be my father's fist, a bullies', or a terrorist's." he stops again and I stay just as quiet. This is becoming very interesting. "I am starting to think all of that training was in vain."
He turns to look at me, an unreadable expression on his face. I stay seated, wearing my own mask from my internal emotions. I feel as though I should have something wise to say, something to make him feel better; but I have nothing. And judging this conversation, he knows it.
"I used to feel like nothing could touch me. Like I was on top of the world, and everyone just bent to my will. I was a sergeant in the Army Ranger Snipers. The big leagues. I had worked my ass off to get there at that point…and then Teddy died…and everything began falling apart."
I stand now, and hesitantly begin to walk over. He flinches a little, when I reach out to comfortingly touch his shoulder. I pull back, as he steps back and turns around. "What happened, Booth?"
He sucks in a calming breath, and I can tell by the tightness of his shoulders he is forcing himself to not break down and cry out however many tears he has held up. "After Teddy's funeral, I went back in again. Even though my supervisors said not to. They kept saying my judgment would be damaged from here on out. That since I felt that Teddy was fault, I would just be out to prove something." He pauses and looks at the ground. "They were right." He concedes quietly. "I took an assignment I knew I shouldn't have. Half hoping I would die in the process; other half hoping I would come out a hero for a small victory in Teddy's name. I was so fucked up, Hodgins, I couldn't think straight."
He turns away from me again. I am still wondering what this has to do with what he asked me earlier, but I decided to go with the flow. Booth obviously needs to get this off of his chest, and I can only guess he chose me because I would give an objective answer.
"I was kidnapped that mission. I was found out…or moreso ratted out. One of my corporals was a plant." He closes his eyes now, and the only way I knew that was because I came up to stand beside him. He looks so different in the dark with only the moonlight from my large window to highlight his face. He looks almost…ethereal. And I wasn't ashamed to admit, I had never seen Booth seem more striking.
WHOA! Holding the metaphorical phone!
Am I seriously thinking Booth is attractive? Certainly not, I was making an objective observation. He is attractive, yes; but not attractive as in I am falling over him attractive…oh wait he's talking again.
"…remember thinking was…how could I be so wrong?"
"I'm sorry Booth, I didn't catch all of that." I say politely.
He opens his eyes to look at me strangely. Like I had something on my face or something. Shaking his head, he starts again. "I said," he sighs and rubs his nose, as he usually does when thinking something over, before moving to go sit back down on my love seat. "All I remember thinking during that whole time was how was I so wrong? How did I not see it? I am supposed to be able to catch that kind of stuff. Instead, I put all of my other men in danger, including my buddy that got taken with me." He sighs and looks again at his feet with his hands firmly clasped in front of him. I make no move, because I don't know where he is going with this. I just watch as he downs three more glasses of my very expensive scotch and wonder what I am supposed to say to him.
"Maybe you ought to lay off the alcohol, man. I'm sure your meds aren't conducive to it." I attempt to joke. When I see his grave face I realize something horrible. "You aren't taking them are you?"
"No, Jack, I'm not." He replies curtly and rubs his hands together.
"Why the hell not?" I ask as nicely as I can. "You just had brain surgery a month and a half ago!"
"Because I have a son I need to help support. I can't do that while on drugs to keep me in remission. I need to get back to work." He replies evenly.
"Booth," I sigh and quietly come to sit on the love seat next to him. I sigh again as I place my hands on my knees to help keep me grounded. Here we go. "That's not healthy and you know it."
"What am I supposed to do, Hodgins? I had brain surgery for a tumor that was making me see things. So what! I have to keep food on my little boy's table!" he says looking at me now, his voice slightly rising.
"By killing yourself in the process?" I reply. "Booth, listen, man…Rebecca I'm sure is-…"
"Waiting for my child support check." He finishes for me with a slight sneer in his voice. "Are you crazy or something, Hodgins? She won't let me, within ten feet of Parker if I haven't paid her first. She and I are already on terrible terms. I don't need to give her more fuel for the already large inferno! She gave me eight weeks to get back on my feet again. I have been giving her the minimum wage cut I get from the government because of my benefits. I'm barely keeping my lease, even with the small reprieve I received from my landlord…can't you see, Jack? I don't have time for me to be ill. I can't sit around on borrowed time. I have to get back to work!"
He was yelling before he was done, and I sat very still and quiet on the couch. He's not really yelling at me, he's yelling at his life. I stare at the place he used to be sitting in, since he is now standing in front of my coffee table, hands on hips, and panting heavily. He, I notice when looking at him again, is staring at the same spot. I can practically feel the internal struggle myself, as I watch him try and quell the rising tears.
Booth and I certainly have never been friends. Booth and I usually hate each other. But Booth and I do understand each other very well. I may be a rich, university taught, conspiratorial, borderline hypocrite; and he may be a semi-poor, community colledged veteran, with the ego of a lion…but he and I do get each other better than anyone. He wants the same things I do: respect from the people who still see us as a kid, justice for the unfortunate, love shared and not one-sided, and laughter on sunny days and warmth on cold ones…simple things but in our eyes things that mean the world.
So while I still don't fully grasp why he has come to me at a time like this when his sanity is hanging in the balance, I do understand that this pain runs farther than he lets on. So I gather up my courage, and approach him. It was time I tell him the answer he was looking for in the beginning. "Booth," I say softly. He closes his eyes and nods at me to speak my peace.
"You asked me earlier, what I think of you." I state. He looks my way, tears glittering in his eyes. "I think you're amazing." He sighs out the breath he must have been holding, tears reluctantly falling from the corners. He was the perfect image of someone in dire pain. "I think you are a role model to many, and a hero to most. I think you have lived through shit a lot of people would have just crawled in a hole and died in misery from. I think you are generous to people that don't always deserve it." He snorts in protest, and I pause giving him my 'serious' expression. "I think you love everyone unconditionally that is within your circle, even when they do nothing but hurt you. I think that that is the reason why you keep pushing Brennan to love and forgive her father, because you know that at least hers is trying to repair the damage he made, and you are never going to get that luxury." Booth sniffs and nods sadly with that. More tears escape, that he doesn't even pretend aren't there. "I think you expect too much from yourself, and stretch yourself too thin. I think you do that because you are afraid if you don't you will become your father." Booth flinches and more heavy tears begin to fall. He is silently sobbing, and I am hoping my words will break that wall he has so guardedly put up. I step closer, so close if he turns his whole body I will be able to catch and whisper, "I think you are the man the world forgets too easily. I think you are the real unsung hero everyone takes for granted. I think you are the loyal man…the one no one will be able to live without."
I am surprised that my words do the trick as his already hunched shoulders implode and he begins to fall. Quick as a rocket he's on my hard wooded floor sobbing his eyes out. I drop just as fast and hold onto his shoulders. His large, manly hands grab mine and he buries his head in my neck making me feel the water he's had to hold in for the thirty-eight years. I cry myself knowing that this is all I can do. Hold him as he cries himself tearless. Unconsciously I kiss his forehead. Once I do it, I stop, time stops, Booth stops. He slowly looks at me, water still clearly evident on his face; he takes a deep reassuring breath and leans forward. Dazedly, as if I am having an outer-body experience, I lean forward too.
Our lips touch, hesitantly. He lingers upward and my eyes glance down to his, seeing: want, need, desire, passion. A lethal combination as I initiate the second kiss. This one filled with intent, and purpose. He gives himself over as my lips roll over his, and he opens immediately for me when my tongue seeks entrance. Our tongues meeting with a moan on his part, his hands holding onto me as if he just found his salvation and won't let it go. I find myself groaning just the same, it feels wonderful to be kissed this thoroughly again. And judging the way his body was grinding against me, the sex was going to be explosive. Suddenly, I wonder what I'm doing. I am supposed to be pining after Angela. Not making out with her best friend's partner! Especially not when he is not emotionally capable of making a decision, both from the alcohol party he had a bit ago, and his distress. Wretchedly, I pull away from the kiss making him whimper in response to the now emptiness he is probably feeling.
"Booth we can't." I say panting from the horrible decision I had to make.
"Why?" he asks if a little angrily, searching my eyes with that anger clearly seared into them.
"Because it's not right." I answer. I nearly slap myself afterwards when I see the break in his chocolate brown pools.
"You sure seemed to think so a couple of seconds ago." He sneered pushing me away to get up.
I don't let him move and given his state, he has a very hard time struggling. He finally stops struggling, and stays still the righteous anger pouring off of him in waves. He has every right to be mad at me. I pushed him away when he was vulnerable, and needing someone to make him feel real again. Not to mention, I did take advantage of him for a spans of five minutes. How did I get myself into these situations?
"Booth, I didn't mean it like that." I whisper.
"Yes you did." He answers quietly, but with a clear resentment behind it bleeding out.
I sigh and rub my face, biting for time. I drop my arms, but he makes no move anyway. I hear him sigh dejectedly. Shit.
"I have never been worth anything to anybody except for my son. My buddy, he…I tried so hard to save him from the torture. It was my fuck up that got us there, not his, you know? But as they kept beating me and beating me and broke out the pipes on my feet…I just snapped okay? I couldn't take it anymore. We had been there for two months without a reprieve, and in all that time I never showed any sign of weakness. I just retreated to that all too familiar spot I had when my dad went off on me. But that day I just broke. I broke down and they got him because they're main person, being me, caved. They killed him quite quickly too because he wasn't as strong willed as I was. And I was…relieved. Jack I was happy he died and not me! That makes me such a horrible person." He wailed as the tears came steadily down his face.
"No it doesn't." I say but he was far too lost in his rambling to hear me.
"When I finally got out, I was so desperate to find someone to take the pain away I just practically leaped into a relationship with Rebecca. It lasted a while, I gambled to release the pressure we didn't fuck out of each other. But she got pregnant. She-she wanted to have an abortion…she didn't want to be a mother right away. I proposed to her and promised I would clean myself up for her and our baby and she practically spat in my face. I had never felt so dirty and betrayed than I did then, because I really did think she loved me. And I realized I was wrong again. Something I should have been able to see, I didn't catch. Someone was able to lie to me again. I felt so angry and hurt and confused, but I did clean myself up and I am an active part in my son's life…and damn it, Hodgins I'm scared okay? Scared I will revert back to the dark place I was in there again. Scared of everything! What will happen if another tumor shows up? What if it's cancerous? What if it's bigger? What if I can't work anymore? What if because of all of these other what if's I can't see my son anymore? What would happen to him… if I die?" he chokes on his sob but continues anyway.
"He's the only real thing that matters to me, and he could be taken away from me in a snap of two fingers." He snaps to illustrate his point but it's a lot feebler because of his emotional overload and alcohol consumption. "What would I do if I lost the one thing that makes me keep my grip? The only person who finds me worth anything?" he softly finishes. By this time I know he isn't even speaking to me anymore. He's speaking to himself. I sadly smile. At least I know now how all of it fits together. One thing for sure, emotional Booth was not someone I wanted to deal with on a regular basis. I found him far too confusing.
"He's not the only person who thinks you're worth something Booth. I do too." I say softly and reach for his hand as if to prove my point. Violently, however, he jerks away from me and jumps away from me.
"Bullshit!" he screams to my shock. "Nothing but fucking bullshit! You don't think I'm worth anything, because you just not five minutes ago pushed me away! It's all lies! Like everything else!" his broken voice breaks my heart too. I should have never let him kiss me the first time. Then I wouldn't have put myself in the category of liars on his list. The rational side of the argument didn't matter. He wasn't thinking rationally anymore. I lied to him. I made him believe I wanted him as much as he seemed to have wanted me, and inadvertently made myself be yet another one of his abusers. I feel like such a dirty, filthy, human being.
"No! Booth, I did-do want you like that! But I can't let anything like that happen when you aren't thinking clearly. It wouldn't be right!" I try to justify. He shakes his head and stumbles slightly, and I quickly jump to catch him before he falls.
"Stop touching me!" he yells and pushes me away. I grunt from the feeling of being thrown against one of heavy wood end tables, and come back full force. I rip the bottle of scotch from his hand and he attempts grab it when I drop it to the floor on purpose. He flinches from the sound of shattered glass and I find myself frozen in time. Just as he seems to be frozen in time. We stand, making no noise now, other than our panting breaths. He looks like a bullet train ran over him, and then backed up to run over him again. I'm sure I don't look much better. And inside all of my internal musings I forget about the broken bottle, and focus solely on how his muscled chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath. I couldn't tell you how it happened…not even if I tried; but somehow I am walking or more so half carrying a balling Booth up stairs to one of my guest rooms.
Once we arrive, I help him out of his jacket, shoes and socks. For the first time I truly notice how small waisted Booth is. There's practically-no there isn't an ounce of fat on him. He's all muscle, and built torso with solid abs. Jesus, I could wrap my arm entirely around his waist and touch my chest. I need to work out more.
After I have him situated beneath the covers, I make a move to leave and he grabs my wrist. I close my eyes from the touch, stealing myself for whatever he was about to say. Sighing, I turn to him.
"I'm sorry." He gasps out. His tears are silent now. Just steady tracks marring his beautiful face. I'm confused again for only the millionth time, tonight.
"Why, Booth? You did nothing wrong." I was wrong. I say internally.
"I kissed you, made you feel like you were betraying Angela. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." He says with certainty and also pain in his eyes. Pain not from the earlier and original issue but from his words right now.
"Booth," I sigh again looking away from him. I pat the hand on my wrist and say, "We can't have this talk tonight. You probably won't even remember most of this in the morning. You need some sleep, babe, and I need to collect my thoughts." I smile sadly at him as he closes his eyes and nods just as sadly.
"You want me to forget." He mumbles and doesn't let go of my wrist. I brush some of his rumpled hair from his face after I'm sure his exhaustion finally sank him into rest. I sigh.
"No, Booth, I don't. That's the problem. I want you to remember, how much I want you. But you and I could never be." I sigh again and slip in on the other side of the bed. Men of kindred hearts I muse, as he moves over into the comfort of my closeness unconsciously. I continue to play with his hair in my fingers and wonder why my life has to be so complicated. Why everything has to be so damned difficult.
Angela was my… everything. I may be one of the richest men in the world, but I have nothing without her. Or so I thought. I truly loved her. I fucked everything up, but I loved her. Idly I wonder if that's what love is anyway. Fucked up people with fucked up emotions and fucked situations just trying to be a little less fucked up. I've always thought so. I guess its right, I don't know.
I move my hand lower, and wince once I feel the scar in his hair line. His hair has grown nicely back over it, but when touching it you can still feel where they removed the problem. Unfortunately, it's actually made more problems than fixed. Booth can't cope anymore with his past and everything around him. I seem to have suddenly flipped a switch and decided I could quite possibly be bisexual, in a –no- more like many moments of weaknesses. I shudder slightly from the memory of that kiss. It was powerful. It took over me so quickly…damn my lower brain is cursing me for stopping things.
But I am right in my decision. I know I am. Booth couldn't do something like that tonight. And I refuse to just be someone's fuck toy for release. It would have only made the huge gap between me and him larger, and made Booth that much more introverted. If nothing else, I saved us both from a lot of heartache. Maybe.
Maybe not. Maybe I am wrong and I should have gone through with it. It wouldn't have been rape. He kissed me first and he was more than willing; but at the same time it would be because I'm positive he didn't know what he was doing. I am still hazy on why he came to me anyway. Maybe it's because I would give an objective answer, but after everything else I'm inclined to believe it's something else entirely. If I knew though I would be able to piece everything together better.
I hear thunder in the distance. The weather forecaster did say we had a hurricane headed our way. I listen to the steady staccato of rain as it pelts my roof and windows, but my eyes stay focused on the body beside me. Watching as the flashes of lightening sparkle against his drying tears. I can't go to sleep yet. I have to watch him and make sure he doesn't have any nightmares. I can't go to sleep. But I'm so tired. Today has been a long day and I haven't slept with anyone keeping me warm since Angela left.
But I can't go to sleep. I won't go to sleep…I won't…
And when it rains on this side of town
It touches everything
Just say it again and mean it
We don't miss a thing
You made yourself a bed at the bottom
of the blackest hole (blackest hole)
and convinced yourself
that it's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore
and no (oh) how could you do it
(oh I) I never saw it coming
(no oh) I need an ending
So why can't you stay
Just long enough to explain
And when it rains
You always find an escape
Just running away
From all of the ones who love you
From everything
You made yourself a bed at the bottom
Of the blackest hole (blackest hole)
And you'll sleep till May
You'll say that you don't want to see the sun anymore("When It Rains" by Paramore off album "Riot!")
and no (oh) how could you do it
(oh I) I never saw it coming
(no oh) I need an ending
So why can't you stay
Just long enough to explain
(Explain your side, Take my side)
Take these chances to turn it around
Take these chances we'll make it somehow
And Take these chances and turn it around
Just turn it around.
and no (oh) how could you do it
(oh I) I never saw it coming
no (oh) how could you do it
(oh I) I never saw it coming
no (oh) how could you do it
(oh I) I never saw it coming and
(no oh) I need an ending
So why can't you stay
Just long enough to explain
You can take your time, take my time.
Thanks for reading! Please comment and tell me if you think I could work a story and/or at least a tw shot!