When She Ran Away

By: Lesera128 (with the help of dharmamonkey)

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: "After seven months, she just randomly said 'I love you' and then ran away. I couldn't watch her leave again. I couldn't. And, so, I followed." Set at the start of 6x01. By reader request, a sequel to "What I Wish I Could've Said" - Ch 13: "That Time Brennan Called Booth On It." AU.

A/N: So, the feedback on Part One was overwhelming—even if someone of you didn't like the blackmail. But, as one astute reviewer pointed out—in the words of Brennan, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to like it. ::evil grin:: Many, many, many thanks to those de-lurkers who chimed in from the darkness to share their thoughts on the chapter, and to the regular reviewers—well, you know that I've said this before, but I'll say it again—you're all awesome. I'm not going to waste a bunch of time and space reiterating the key points of the first part's logistical stuff, since I've been told, some readers just skip the author's notes anyway—a bad call in my opinion, since I usually always put important stuff in there—but, oh well. Suffice to say all the good things to know about how this an AU sequel to a one-shot a did by special reader request can be read in part one for those who are interested. On a last note, I'm happy to say that the good stuff I promised in the last chapter really is here... finally, which, I suppose, when you see the descriptors, make it neat that I'm also posting this on Veteran's Day in the US. So, if you object to scorching unfness between two consenting adults—one of them in an oh, so scintillating pair of military desert fatigues, uh, well, then... you should probably turn back now. You've been warned. Otherwise, let's go...~


Part II: When He Caught Her


Booth stared at Brennan in that minute, looking at her with a tilt of his head as he thought about the words she had said:: have sex, intercourse, coitus, bang, tap, fuck... and, make love.

The first three were pure Brennan. The second three were Brennan channeling Angela. And, the last? The last one was what made the well spring of hope that had been growing stronger and stronger in his chest, increasing minute by minute since Brennan had said those three little words, nearly implode with the realization of maximum possibility. 'Make love', Booth thought with his lips turning upwards in a small, but very pleased, smile. 'Make love'—huh. How about that? Bones... she—I guess she really was listening all along every time I spouted off some fortune cookie bit of wisdom. Because, well—'make love'—she could've only gotten that one from me. And, so, she knows the difference—what it means to say it like that—and so, since she knows what it means, and what it means to me, that can only mean that she really does love me. She loves me. Bones really loves me.

A feeling of warmth washed over Booth again as he savored the thought. She really does love me. A second, and slightly more mischievous voice suddenly spoke up in his had at that thought. And, is there anything you're going to do about that, Booth? The second voice sounded playfully like Brennan, despite the fact that it wasn't she who had spoken. In fact, the real Brennan was looking back at Booth in a nervously expectant way and had remained quiet in anticipation of his response to her question.

Looking at her, standing there in clothing that was just as dirty and travel stained as he was, Booth noticed minute differences about her for the first time since they had met each other in the short time since they'd both arrived in DC. A single text message from Brennan, sent on a hopeful wish and with a hastily breathed prayer—or plea, as might be more appropriate in Brennan's case, to the unknown—when a call from Cam had told her that he had returned to DC by way of Fort McNair. Her hair was shorter and darker than he'd remembered it being, her pale skin a slightly darker color than he remembered it being—no doubt the tan coming from the days she'd spent outside working in the jungles of the southeast Asia, and her eyes were still red rimmed from when she had been crying earlier. But, in that minute, Booth knew that he'd never seen Brennan look more lovely or more desirable. He wanted her in that minute as he'd always wanted her, but, if such a thing were possible, he wanted her even more. God, I want her. I've always wanted her. I want her now; I want her later; I want her forever, Booth thought to himself.

The playful voice again perked up in his head as it asked, Okay, if you want her, than the same question stands from before: what are you going to do about it Booth?

Licking his lip, Booth tilted his head slightly at Brennan. Oh, I'm gonna do something about it, Booth thought confidently. Definitely going to do something about it.

Slowly, very slowly, Booth took a step towards Brennan as he nodded. "Uh, yeah, Bones—about that—" He stopped, held her gaze for a few seconds, and he could see her warring with herself . A battle was reflected in Brennan's eyes at that moment, and Booth could see it as clearly as if she was a book or map to be read, and, more importantly, he understood what that battle signified. One impulse to stay—because she was hopeful and giving him the benefit of the doubt in knowing he'd accept her offer—battled with the other impulse, the standard driven by fear that she always felt to run in anticipation of being rejected. Wanting to end her torment, Booth slowly allowed the smile that he'd been holding back for several seconds slowly grow on his face. He smiled at her—giving her a grin that made her heart skip a metaphorical beat—and then added in a husky voice, "I think I can help you with that one, Bones."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Booth was rewarded with one of the sweetest sights he had ever seen—Brennan smiled. She smiled at him, a grin of honesty, and hope, and satisfaction. She let out a large sigh of relief, and it pained Booth for a few seconds to know that such a normally confident woman—a woman who was sometimes so confident that it bordered on annoying overconfidence—could feel such debilitating hesitation and crushing uncertainty.

Her confidence sufficiently bolstered by his answer, Brennan reached for his hand. She held it for a minute, letting her fingers lightly touch the rough calluses on his palm. She studied it for a few seconds, seeing the dry skin in desperate need of hydration. Brennan thought about what that hand had done since last she saw him, what horrors he'd faced as the dry heat of the desert Afghan sun beat down relentlessly on his head day after day. Then, resolved to put such negative thoughts out of her mind, she wondered what wonderful things that hand would be doing to her in a fairly short period of time. The excitement building in her, Brennan curled her fingers around his hand, looked up at Booth—who was studying her again as she studied him—and smiled as she gave him a firm tug in the direction of one place in the apartment—despite six years of their partnership and dance towards one another—to which Booth had almost never before traveled. She led him out of the living room and guided him towards her bedroom.

Booth gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze as she led the way, as he was somewhat unfamiliar with the part of her apartment that led to her bedroom. She smiled over her shoulder as he followed, this time no war happening between two opposing forces of hope and doubt. Only faith burned brightly in Brennan's eyes in that minute—faith in him and in them—and if such a thing were possible, that show of trust and devotion made Booth love her even more.

Quickly throwing open the door to her bedroom, Brennan didn't bother to turn on the light as she lightly dropped Booth's hand and turned around to face him. Booth didn't have more than a second or two to prepare before he registered Brennan's sudden movements towards him. He braced himself so that she wouldn't knock him into something as hurtled herself at him in a move that ironically echoed his earlier action towards her at the mall. However, this time no one was of a mind to resist as Booth welcomed her onslaught. Throwing herself against him, Brennan wrapped her hands around his waist , interlacing her fingers to rest in the small of his back. She hugged him for a minute—almost as if to reassure herself that yes, he was real, and yes, this was actually happening—before she allowed their position to take on a decidedly more intimate feeling. Her breaths coming shorter in her chest, Brennan leaned into Booth and pressed her chest to his, slowly rubbing her breasts back and forth against him.

She loved the sensation the friction elicited through the multiple layers of each piece of clothing they wore. Brennan closed her eyes for a minute as she breathed deeply, inhaling Booth's scent. Some of the odors she didn't associate with Booth, but recognized nonetheless—sand, sunblock, and the indescribable funk that settled over a person after many long hours of arduous travel, no matter from what place one had come. But, sniffing again, paying more close attention for what she was trying to find, eventually Brennan found a hint of familiarity in his scent—his sweat and a very faint smell of menthol, no doubt from the shaving cream he'd been required to use more frequently while on duty with the Army more than was usual in the course of the work they completed for the FBI. Brennan breathed deeply as she found that faint scent of familiarity, and clung to it. It took her a minute to realize she was mirroring in her body the thoughts that she had been holding onto in her mind. In just a brief moment, Brennan had settled into a repetitive motion, clinging to Booth as she continued to press herself against his chest in an undulating motion. Each time she completed a motion across the broad expanse of his chest, she stopped and reversed motion, making her nipples harden and the first growing signs of her arousal burst into her conscious mind.

Finally, at last, Brennan let out a verbal response as she exhaled slowly. "Ohhhhh," Brennan said. "Thank God," she muttered, a swift exhale of air escaping her lips as she moved towards him.

Booth, his voice tightened as he enjoyed her movements, cracked a bit as he began,"I thought that you didn't believe in—"

"I don't," Brennan said as she stepped away and looked at him with an appreciative leer. Eying him hungrily as she licked her lips and contemplated where to start, she then continued. "But, it conveys an appropriate and accurate representation of the sentiment that I'm currently feeling. So, yes, I'm going to go with thanking the metaphorically-appropriate deity."

Arching an eyebrow as she gaze fastened on Booth's mid-secton, her decision suddenly made, Brennan reached for Booth's belt. She smiled as she thought of his Cocky belt buckle, now replaced by a khaki-colored nylon web belt with a simple friction buckle. Booth glanced down and watched her slender fingers loosen the belt from its buckle, trying to maintain some sense of self-control while enjoying the sensations as Brennan edged closer to his groin.

"Bones," he growled.

"Hmmmm," Brennan murmured. With a quick pull, the belt parted, and she slid it free from the belt loop of Booth's Army Combat Uniform trousers, allowing it to fall to the hardwood floor with a clink. Quite pleased with herself, Brennan smiled wryly as she tugged the lightly-knotted drawstring and untied it, revealing a four-button fly. She thumbed open the top button of this ACU trousers before Booth stilled her hand and brought it to rest on his hip.

"Wait," he said, his voice rough with desire and a little breathless at her efforts. "Wait a second, Bones."

"Hmmm," came the response again as Brennan suddenly stopped and tilted her head to look up at him.

"What?" she asked.

"Just," Booth took a breath and then swallowed once before he nodded. "Just—"

Laughing again as she noted with appreciation the growing proof of his arousal, Brennan shook her head as she said, "I'm done waiting, Booth. I think both of us have waited long enough, don't you?"

She smiled at him, and then reached to remove the impediment that was keeping her from achieving her goal. Not one to be thwarting, and loving the challenge of it, Brennan hardened her determination to get Booth out of his pants—and, preferably, as quickly as possible. However, after a few seconds, she was biting her lower lip in frustration, not certain how best to achieve her goal. Finally, she stepped away and looked at Booth with a curious shake of her head.

"Booth," she said with a husky laugh. "While I fail to see what the logic might be behind their reasoning, it appears that...err, well, I don't think the Army wants you taking your pants off."

He laughed. "Well, if you would've stopped and let me explain, I would've told you that this isn't just as simple as you whipping my Cocky belt buckle off and yanking my jeans down around my ass just so that you can have your way with me, Bones." He nodded at her, "I did try to tell you—"

"But, I didn't stop to listen—"

"Because you always have to do things the hard way," Booth breathed, tilting his head to kiss her lightly on the cheek. "Always the hard way with you, Bones."

"You didn't say anything when I started fumbling with your pants," Brennan observed.

Booth pulled away and said, "So sue me. I kinda liked you pawing at me."

"I would much rather do other, more explicit things to you, than simply tug at your pants, if you have some damn idea of how to get them off," Brennan said, a bit of annoyance at being thwarted in her earlier efforts. "What is the purpose of not being able to have soldiers easily remove their pants? Surely, if for no other reason than to facilitate using the bathroom quickly in situations when time is of the essence, it's illogical to make it as hard as it appears it is for you to be able to touch yourself—"

At the rather innocuous, but extremely dirty sounds words, Booth felt his semi hard on get much, much harder. You're killing me, Bones. Absolutely killing me, Booth thought with a chuckle. Then, nodding at her to distract himself, he said, "Well, if you had tens of thousands of testosterone-amped, undersexed, severely hard-up 18-to-30 year-olds in a war zone, you'd probably want to make those pants as difficult to put on and take off as possible, too, Bones. It keeps the young men's shenanigans at a low hum." He paused, cocked an eyebrow at her and said with a grin, "Or, that's the theory, anyway."

"Booth," Brennan began.

"Yes, Bones?"

"Ummm, not to put too fine a point on it, but I fail to see how we're going to be able to have sex if I'm unable to access your genitalia—"

Booth shot her a look, and Brennan inclined her head as she responded, "What?"

"Genitalia?"

"Yes," Brennan said. "What's wrong with me using—"

"It just doesn't really set the right tone, Bones, that's all," Booth laughed with a shake of his head.

Inclining her head at him, Brennan said with a slightly annoyed catch in her voice, "Well, as I was saying, Booth—it's not like 'setting the mood' is really going to matter, since it appears the design of your military uniform has precluded me the physical access I need to certain portions of your anatomy which are required in order for us to have sex. So—"

Reaching over, Booth shut Brennan up with a kiss. Some of her annoyance melted away when he finally stepped back and said with an approving nod, "Better. Now, pipe down for a minute while I do what I need to do so your impatient self can start pawing me again, huh?"

Scowling just a bit, Brennan watched in curiosity as Booth sat down on the edge of her bed and, crossing his leg over his knee, began to ruthlessly untie his bootlaces. He struggled pulling his boots off, growing frustrated until he remembered how swollen his feet probably were after spending most of the prior twenty-four hours sitting on a military transport. He thought then of the shiny brass shoehorn that he had lent to a ANP sergeant the morning before his last mission and wondered whether Sgt. Sahar had already sold it on the black market. So, he unlaced his boots with a silent grumble until the top laces were loose enough that he could deblouse his trouser legs and unwedge each of his aching feet from its stiff, dusty, mud-caked boot. Only then could he slide out of his sweat-damp socks. For a split second, several images passed through his mind as he thought of the bad cases of boot-rot he'd seen guys with over the years, while doing field exercises at Benning or with the larger unit deployments to the National Training Center at Fort Irwin, California. However, Booth's attention was quickly refocused when he saw Brennan move to kneel in front of him. She tilted her head as she looked at him, her eyes full of longing and curiosity as she lightly placed a hand on each of his knees.

"Let me?" she asked tentatively, no longer content to wait on the sidelines. "I... I want to touch you."

He reached down and took each one of her hands in his own as he laced his fingers in between hers. Booth raised their hands in the air for a minute before he smiled and said, "Yes, but give me just one sec, okay?"

Nodding, Brennan reluctantly let their hands fall apart. Booth pulled aside the flap of his long-sleeve, digital camouflage shirt and unzipped it, then shrug his arms out of the sleeves. He folded the blouse in half before casually dropping it onto the floor at the foot of her bed. He crossed his arms and pulled his khaki T-shirt over his head, flinging the damp cotton to the side. He turned to her, wearing just his four-button army trousers, his dog tags, his St. Christopher's medal, and an easy smile as he sat on the edge of her bed. Brennan still reclined on the backs of her legs as she watched Booth with a critical eye.

"Better?" he asked her with a cocky grin coming onto his face.

Brennan nodded. "Yes. Much." She stopped and let her eyes run up and down his torso. "In addition to obviously having been outside without a shirt on for a prolonged period of time, and not necessarily wearing the appropriate amount of sun block—" she stopped and shot Booth a look of annoyance at reference to one of their common debates over the merits of appropriate sun protection before continuing. "—you've increased the toning of several of your muscle groups since last I've seen you, Booth," Brennan said with a clearly appreciative tone in her voice. "Particularly the pectoralis major and the rectus abdominus muscles."

Booth's brow furrowed at the remark, and then he nodded his head at her. "Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?"

"Do me a favor?"

"Anything," she said, suddenly a bit shy as she flushed at the implication of her offer.

"Stop squinting at me," he said with a quiet chuckle. "If you want to examine me, then how about you skip the visual study and go straight for the hands-on examination, and get to the you-touching-me part of things, huh?"

Arching an eyebrow at him, she said, "Is that a firm offer, Booth?"

"Yup," he said, his voice deepening a bit with a playful tone to it. Quirking his head at her, Booth then half-joked, "And, if you come here, I've got something else that's firm that I can offer you. too." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"Hmmm," Brennan said, as if seeming to contemplate his offer for a few seconds. At last gave in with a grin of her own as she said, "Okay."

Shaking his head with an amused look in his eye, Booth said, "Come here, Bones."

Slowly, Brennan stood up and took a step towards the bed. Reaching out, Booth wrapped his arms around her waist, letting his hands rest lightly on the swell of her ass as he pulled her close. Her body was warm and responsive to his touch, and Booth lightly squeezed her ass in appreciation, causing Brennan to hiss slightly at the unexpected but pleasurable sensation. Tilting his head up towards hers, Booth leaned in to kiss her. Brennan eagerly sought his lips, allowing herself to fall into his kiss—and her bed— as they laid back and Booth urged her to come closer to him. Covering her body with his, Brennan suddenly felt as if she couldn't feel him like she needed to with as many layers of her clothing separating her skin from his.

Pulling away, Booth moaned in protest as she lifted herself off his chest and said, "This isn't working—"

For a split second, Booth felt the beginning of his new world start to crack, before Brennan quickly uttered a magical panacea that made things even better than they had been before she spoke. "I need to get out of these clothes. Now... right now."

Shrugging easily out of her dark navy blue canvas jacket, she removed her lighter blue button down shirt that—had either one of them noticed—which seemed to mimic a style Booth had often worn as a staple of his casual attire for years. Tossing both garments behind her, revealing her grimy white tank top that was smudged with dirt and dust and stained with sweat from the many long hours of travel between Indonesia and D.C., Brennan felt more exposed and more vulnerable than she had since Booth had righted her world with three simple words—I love you. However, still it was too much, and Brennan wondered what was the most logical way to get in a position where she could get out of her jeans. Meanwhile, Booth watched her strip with a hunger clear in his eyes, and his hands hovered just on the swell of each hip. Brennan, distracted by the movement when she felt his hands land back on her hips, looked over at Booth. She felt a renewed flush of moisture between her legs as she grew wetter as she thought about how the look in Booth's eyes seemed to indicate he wanted to devour her—in more ways than one.

But, then, suddenly, Brennan stopped when a raw and pink gash—still angry and irritated—staring back at her from just above Booth's left pectoral. She frowned when she saw the wound, clearly healing, but still looking as if Booth might feel pain at anyone touching it. How did I not see that? Brennan suddenly asked herself. How could I not...how did I not see this?

Brennan froze in that moment, her eyes riveted to the one spot on Booth's chest as a new emotional response began to swirl in her mind. Something happened, and he was hurt, and oh, God. It's my fault. All my fault. He was hurt, and it's because of me

As soon as she stopped, Booth could feel the shift in her mood. Brennan had gone from a nervous and passionate excitement to something that was decidedly more...somber. Looking up at her as he lifted his head off the bed, Booth met her eyes with a simple question.

"Bones?"

Brennan's immediate response was to pull back, and scramble off of where she sat straddling his body. However, the look in Booth's eyes stopped her as she bit her lower lip in anxious somberness. Shaking her head sadly, she replied quietly, "This is all my fault."

Struggling to sit up, after a few seconds, Booth smiled at her gently, raising a hand to her cheek as he used his thumb to trace the contour of her cheekbone. "Come on, Bones. I thought we settled that one."

"No—"

"Yes, we did—"

"No," Brennan repeated. "That is to say, this is not about..." Brennan paused, the emotionally disquieting feelings still rolling over her before she managed to take a breath and finally finish her thought. "Not...not Hannah."

"Then, what?" Booth asked., a small look of indulgence clear on his face "What do you think is your fault now, Bones?" He paused, stopped, and then flashed her a lopsided grin as he said, "Ya know, Bones, one would almost think that you were the one who was Catholic with the guilty conscience you seemed to have developed while we were gone."

Frowning, Brennan refused to be distracted by Booth's religious quip—which, on any normal day, Brennan would've quickly acted to contradict him with some witty verbal retort of her own—but today was not a normal day. Instead, she simply reached out and placed her fingers lightly below the scar without actually touching it.

"This," Brennan said softly. "This... it's—it's my fault it happened to you. I...I-I did this."

For a split second, Booth didn't know what she was talking about, and he briefly thought she might be referring to some metaphorical heartbreak she thought she'd caused by rejecting him that night at the Hoover. However, as Brennan continued to stare at the same spot on his chest, Booth quickly realized that she was, as usual, actually being literal. When he glanced down, and saw what she was gazing at with a solemn reverence, he slowly shook his head as the latest source of her guilt became clear to him

"No, Bones," Booth told her gently. "You didn't do that."

Nodding, Brennan replied, "Yes, yes I did, Booth."

"No," Booth repeated. His mind flashed to the day it had happened several weeks before he'd received the call from Caroline Julian to come home. Images flashed in his head—sights and sounds and feelings. It had been a routine patrol that had been interrupted by a local trying to chase a mangy looking dog into a restricted zone. Booth, content to let his unit do their job, had held back as they did what they needed to do to warn the man away from the area where he'd been trying to enter. And, then, from somewhere in the distance, there was the tell-tale, but unmistakable, sharp squeak of static before the bomb detonated. Booth was far enough away that the blast only resulted in him having ringing in his ears for three days, while most of the other survivors had been diagnosed with a severe case of tinnitus for well over a week. But, then Jackson had gotten Booth's attention with a yell of his rank, and Booth felt a delayed heavy pressure on his chest before it was suddenly very difficult to move. A wave of nausea and a swirling of sight and sound later, Booth found himself being stitched up by medics and being told that was a hell of a thing that happened when the random piece of sharpenel had pierced his armor when two other men had suffered much worse injuries when the IED went off.

Pushing the images away, Booth concentrated on assuaging Brennan's guilt and tried to explain to her what had happened without ruining the mood by drudging up more of Afghanistan than he wanted to bring into their lives. "That , Bones," Booth began with a slow nod. "That was done by a Taliban insurgent who got himself blown up by misrigging his own sub-par fucked-up IED in Quryah and caused a piece of shrapnel to pierce my kevlar body armor, Bones." He stopped, seeing her doubt still present, and then, so there would be no mistake, said firmly, "Him. Not you, Bones. Not you."

Again, Booth felt her body tighten as he said the words 'IED', 'shrapnel' and 'pierced'. Tension radiated from her body, and Booth didn't know how to absolve Brennan of the guilt she suddenly was feeling. Shaking his head, Booth said, "But, it's okay, Bones. I promise. Really...it looks much worse than it actually was—I didn't even get more than 24 hours of recup time because the docs said it was just a scratch."

"I can see how the skin has started to heal, Booth," Brennan said with a slow and sad shake of her head. "While I don't think you're outright being deceptive in your description of the events that transpired to cause this wound, I do think you are trying to minimize the extent of your injury."

Lightly tapping the skin above his wound with her finger tip, Brennan said, "Your epithelial cells have migrated around the wound's scab. And, while I'll be the first to admit that I possess no where near the expertise that someone like Cam does when it comes to flesh, I can tell this scar is indicative of a wound that was quite extensive...enough so that you needed stitches and probably lost a fair amount of blood and—"

Her voice grew thick at that moment, and Brennan hadn't realized it until she had to fight back a quiet sob, that she had started to tear up again. Once more, she struggled to breathe, to get enough air into her lungs so that she could finish her sentence, her confession to, Booth. "—and pain," she managed at last. "Pain. You must've suffered a tremendous amount of pain when this wound was inflicted... and that's all my fault—"

"No—" Booth began, knowing that if he didn't interrupt Brennan's appreciated but wholly misplaced attempt to claim responsibility for his wound, that they'd quickly be back at square one. And, if that happens, Booth thought miserably, we might as well just go back to the Mall and start all over again.

Not willing to let Booth finish his thought, Brennan lifted her blue eyes, once again shining with unshed tears to meet his soft and warm brown gaze. "Yes, Booth," she whispered. "You were hurt when you were in Afghanistan...and you never would've been there to be hurt in the first place if I hadn't given you a reason to leave D.C. I—" Again her voice trailed off, as she felt her body quake with a series of short sobs she suddenly no longer could control. "I never wanted to hurt you, and it seems as if that's all I've done since the night I told you I wanted to protect you, Booth. I've just kept hurting you and hurting you...and this...it's all my fault. All of it. Everything."

She punctuated her final word with a slight sniffle that suddenly grew louder as she swallowed once, trying to get rid of the ball of tightness that had suddenly attached itself to the back of her throat. But, she couldn't get rid of it, no matter how hard she tried, knowing that it was futile to fight off the wave of emotion that had resulted in her needing to battle the tears in the first place. And, in the end, as Brennan squeezed her eyes shut and let the sobs fully claim her, she kept hearing one thought repeatedly echo in her head. All my fault, she thought miserably. He was hurt, and it never would've happened if I hadn't screwed up like I did. This...this is all my fault. All of it. Everything. I just...I don't deserve him.

Booth pursed his lips as he watched her struggle with her thoughts. "Bones," he whispered, reaching for her hands.

She stared at him in that moment, feeling unsure and more fragile, more vulnerable than she'd ever felt in her life. No moment before this one had in any way prepared her for feelings so...weak. Not being abandoned by her parents and brother, not facing the horrors of violence and genocide in her work, and not even realizing that one day—quite suddenly it seemed—Booth had somehow seemed to breach every defensive fortification she'd constructed over the years, scaled every wall, conquered every obstacle she constructed to keep herself isolated and untouched and alone—in a word: impervious.

God, I hate that word, Brennan thought. I can't...impervious? What a joke. I was stupid, so stupid to think I could just cut myself off like that. And, now, knowing what it feels like to be with him, how could I ever go back to living my life like that knowing what I know now? But...if I've hurt him, and I've kept hurting him. Maybe I'm just better off being by myself. Maybe he was right when he moved on. Maybe...it doesn't matter anymore, what I feel...or maybe even what he feels. Maybe, when I've done everything to him that I've done...and with as bad as it is, everything that I could still do to hurt him, maybe... maybe love doesn't matter. Maybe I was right when I said he needed to be protectedprotected from me. So, maybe he was right to move on and replace me

"I don't deserve you," she said slowly and carefully, forcing each word to come out of her mouth despite the bit of herself that each word cost her. "I don't...I can't do this if I know I've hurt you, because if I've done it once, or contributed to the conditions that led to it happening in either a mental, emotional, or physical context...I...I can't do this, Booth."

"Do what?" he said evenly. "What are you saying?" He narrowed his eyes as he tried to follow her tortured thinking.

"I'm saying," she said, slowly. "I'm saying that maybe you were right. Maybe you were right to move on. Maybe someone like Hannah—"

"Fuck Hannah," Booth said, a passion edging into his voice. "I told you. She was what she was, and while I'm grateful for what she did for me when I was in a very dark place, I don't want her, Bones." He paused and then pulled her tightly against him. "You're the only one I want."

"No—"

"Yes," Booth repeated. "Yes, Bones."

"But—"

"No, Bones," Booth told her, clucking his tone at her in gentle remonstrance. "No, more of that. No more excuses, no more guilt, no more negative thoughts, okay? It's...it's just you and me." He leaned into kiss her again, and Brennan felt herself melt a bit as he pressed his lips to her neck, relishing in her silky, ivory skin. "Just you and me," he repeated softly. "Right now—just you and me. Understand?"

Brennan moaned lightly as his hands came up to the hem of her t-shirt. His finger toyed with the edge of the dirty fabric, his hands darting underneath it to caress the soft skin near her navel, trying to distract her emotions with something a bit more tangible.

"Bones?"

Brennan was silent in response, but Booth felt some of the tension ease out of her.

"Bones, are you listening to me?

"I—" she managed to mumble at last.

Shaking his head, Booth said, "Listen to me...are you listening, Bones?" She opened her eyes, swallowed once and nodded. "Listen, we both have made decisions, right? We had to...we did the best we could with the info we had at the time. Now, I'm not saying that all the decisions we made were the right ones.". Booth flashed his eyebrows reflectively and shrugged his shoulders simply. "Hell, I know there's things I'd do differently if I could. I imagine there are decisions you've made that you might make differently, knowing what you know now." He took her hands and held them between his, her slender fingers dwarfed by his own. "But, that's not how it works, you know? We are where we are, right? We are who we are, we did what we did, we are where we are, and we do the best we can and have to accept that's just how it goes."

Booth leaned closer to her, his forehead touching hers as he squeezed her fingers gently. "And, right now, Bones—I wouldn't want to be any place than there I am right now, here with you. You know that, right? No matter what happened before—none of that matters now. None of it. All that matters now is you, me, and being right where we are. Here, in this moment, right now." He stopped and then said, "Okay?" Brennan remained quiet and so Booth pulled away slightly and kissed her forehead. "Just you and me," he repeated. "Because...I love you, Bones. And...well, to hear you tell me tonight that you love me? Well, that makes tonight the greatest night of my life." He reached up and stroked her hair with his palm. "I wouldn't change anything, Bones. Not...one...damn...thing." Cupping his hand around the side of her head, he leaned in and kissed her forehead again.

"I...my brain, Booth. It knows what you're telling me, but every time I look at you I just feel this pain in my heart—I...I don't know how to stop feeling that," Brennan said, the tears running faster down her cheeks as she began to sob harder. "I just don't—"

Again, almost as if it was a reflex, Booth reached out and tried to distract her again with his touch. He allowed his hand to stroke the soft skin of the curve of her next. Brennan shivered once, goosebumps appearing as his calloused fingers lightly traced lines upon and down her neck before he continued speaking. "You're thinking about this way too much," he said gently. "It serves no purpose, Bones. There's no reason—"

"I can't help it," Brennan whispered self-consciously. "I can't—"

"Bones," he said softly, moving his hands back to hers, curling his thick fingers around hers as he pulled her hand up towards his chest. He placed her hand over his heart and held her hand there with his own. Booth felt his heart begin to race a little as her cool fingers warmed against the naked skin of his chest. "I'm here, Bones. I'm not going anywhere, okay? Okay? You feel that?"

"Your heartbeat?" she asked quietly. She scrunched her eyebrows and shrugged. "Yes, of course," she said.

"I'm right here," he whispered. "We've both come a long way today, Bones." He smiled and squeezed her hand again. "And, I don't just mean that literally, either, by the way," he said with a toothy grin. "But, where ever we're headed—you and me, Bones—we'll get there together." Booth took a deep breath. "You'll never be alone again, Bones. I promise. Whatever happens, from this point on—we'll handle it. But, there'll be no more running—not by me, and not by you. No more. We're done with that." He reached up and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "From this moment, we do this thing together. Not alone, not separate, but together. Do you understand what I mean, Bones? Do you understand what I'm telling you here?"

"I'm not afraid of being alone, Booth," Brennan said quietly. "Being alone is easy. I've done that part before, so I know I can do it again if I need to, but it's...it's—"

"What Bones?"

"It's being with you," she told him truthfully, "being with you—"

"Oh, come on, now, Bones, don't say it like that," he said lightly. "I'm not that bad—" he began to joke, in an attempt to diffuse her angst.

Brennan scowled a bit, and then said in a softer tone, "It's being with you and not hurting you—that's what I don't know how to do, Booth."

"Look, Bones...you and me...just because we want to be together, finally can be together, it doesn't mean we're going to stop being the people we've always been," he said with a smile. "And, that's okay. You and me...we...bicker, remember?"

Brennan couldn't help but smile again as she nodded, thinking about all the 'bickering' they'd done over the continental United States, from in his SUV to Sweets' office to hundreds of different crime scenes, and many, many other places in between.

"Well, I'm not gonna lie to you," he continued in a more quiet tone. "People who bicker...well, on occasion, as much as I don't like to admit it, people who bicker hurt each other, Bones."

"I know that," she suddenly said, looking up at him in a pleading way. "I know that," she repeated in a softer tone of voice. "And, that's why I'm afraid—"

"It's okay to be afraid," Booth said honestly. "And, as for the other stuff, Bones? The bickering...the hurting... as long as we love each other, we'll do what we need to do to get to where we need to go... together." He held her gaze firmly. "Understand?"

Again, she began to sniffle slightly at his words, unable to help herself. Brennan hastily brushed away the tears, suddenly angry and disgusted with herself. "God, I'm terrible."

"What?" Booth asked, confused and in disbelief at the sudden shift in her tone of voice. "No, Bones—"

"I'm a mess," Brennan insisted, a bit of her old self-castigating bravado returning in a way that made Booth very happy. "A sobbing, emotional, irrational wreck of a mess." She looked down at herself in exasperation and said, "How can you even stand to be near me right now? I can't remember the last time I showered, so I know I must smell very pungent, and I know I must look—"

"Beautiful," he said, interrupting her with a swift shake of his head. "Absolutely fucking gorgeous."

"No, I'm not—"

At this, Booth groaned as he said, "Oh, really, Bones? Really? You're gonna play that card? Come on—" He flashed her a grin before he continued. "You know you're hot. And, you know I know it, too. So, if you're doing this just because you want me to say it, fine. But, you're killing me here, Bones." He paused and then said, "Do you know how incredibly gorgeous you are? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen—" He then tilted his head and added, "And, do you have any idea how much I want you right now? I'm nearly jumping out of my skin here, Bones, I want you so badly. God, I can't even know how to tell you how much I want you..."

"That's unlike you," Brennan quipped with a wicked look in her eye and a smile threatening to crack her straight face as she spoke.

"Why?"

"Because," Brennan said. "Usually, you don't shut up."

"Wait," Booth said, a bit of disbelief coming into his voice. "Are you saying that I have a big mouth?" He looked at her with a completely straight face as he said, "You're kidding, right?"

At this, for the first time in several minutes, Brennan was no longer crying. She bit back a smile as she said, "Maybe." She paused before she clarified with a twitch at the corners of her mouth threatening to break into a wide grin, "That is to say, no, I'm not kidding."

"Me?" Booth repeated. "You, the squint, woman of a thousand words, are saying that I, the FBI guy, have a big mouth?"

"Or, if you prefer, talkative, chatty, verbose, wordy...long winded?" Brennan offered several alternatives in that smart-ass infuriating way that only made Booth lover her even more.

"Oh, that's it," Booth said, a change in his tone warning Brennan that the mood between them had shifted like quicksilver once again. "Game is on, Bones. Game is definitely on."

"And, what game would that be, Booth?" Brennan asked feigning innocence, although they both knew what they were talking about.

"The one where we don't use our mouths to talk, Bones," he growled, his voice dropping a half octave from its previous pitch. "I don't want to talk anymore, if you know what I mean." Booth pulled her hand down to his lap. "Bones..."

As soon as he pulled her down to him, Brennan could feel the prominent bulge of his erection. She smiled at him in a saucy way, and then replaced her hand with her ass, happily sliding into his lap, but not before cupping him through the sleek fabric of his ACU trousers. She smiled as she heard him groan, and loved it when she felt his hard on straining against the tightness of her denim jeans. Suddenly feeling a bit claustrophobic, she suddenly thought better of her initial thought and scrambled off his lap. Booth watched with narrowed eyes as she quickly struggled to her feet, when he realized there was no need for concern or panic in that only Brennan was up to something... interesting. He watched with an amused eye as she hastily unbuttoned the first button on her jeans and quickly pulled the zipper down. Shimmying out of her jeans, she kicked away her field boots—although, compared to Booth's, Brennan wasn't sure if the black hiking Sketchers could really be termed as anything more than a sturdy pair of rubber-soled leather shoes—and almost lost her balance before she quickly readjusted, compensated for the shift in her equilibrium, and then stood triumphantly in front of Booth, her eyes alight in excitement at her victory.

He chuckled at her movements, and nodded, "Better?"

"Better," she said, reaching for the hem of her tank top. "Much better."

Quickly shaking his head, Booth said. "Wait a sec—"

Brennan stopped and then said, "What?"

"Ummm, come here," Booth said, curving his index finger at her as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"What for?"

"Because," Booth said. "I wanna do that."

Nodding, Brennan took a step towards him. However, she stopped and then pointed at his chest.

"First, those off," Brennan said, a hard edge coming into her voice. It took Booth a minute to figure out what she was talking about before he saw where she was pointing. "I hate them," Brennan said with a shake of her head as she stared maliciously at the dog tags. "I know they're important, I know what they stand for, but I can't help it. I hate them. I hate everything about them and everything that they stand for in the last seven months. To me, those only mean seven months of us being a part, Booth. And, you getting hurt...and me almost losing you. So, please. Take them off. Now. Right now. Off."

Booth eyed her for a minute, but, knowing it was a small thing, particularly when he knew how raw a nerve it hit as a symbol for the extreme pain and guilt she was feeling, albeit needlessly—even though, technically he could get into a lot of trouble for doing it—Booth quickly looped them over his head and tossed then lightly on the ground where the rest of their clothes had been scattered. Brennan watched them fall with a satisfied look on her face, and only when the faint clack of the dog tags signal that they had come to rest on the wooden floor of her bedroom, did Brennan take another step towards the bed, towards Booth, and brought herself within his arm's reach.

Gently, Booth brought his hands to the hem of her thin top. When he gently, but firmly, yanked up her tank top and tossed it over her shoulder, Brennan felt the wonderful night air caress her belly. After months of being conditioned to the humidity of Indonesia, while D.C.'s weather was by no means without its own issues, the weight of the air was not as constricting.

Or, maybe, Brennan thought as she shivered slightly as Booth studied her with a gaze that was still the same hungry look he had given her earlier, but now—now, it had grown stronger and even more pronounced. Maybe I'm shivering for another reason...

"Booth?" Brennan asked, curious to know what he was thinking.

"Bones—" Booth growled, his voice already hoarse with desire. "Remember... no talking, right?"

At this pointed reminder, Brennan laughed. And, as he felt a flush of warmth shoot through him as he heard her laugh, her laugh sounding so much better to his ears than the cries that had twisted like a knife in his gut such a short time earlier, Booth suddenly knew that he'd waited—no, they'd waited—long enough.

"Bones," he rasped again. "You're killing me."

"Sorry," Brennan muttered, coming towards him, feeling liberated by the removal of all of her dirty and travel-stained clothing but for her very utilitarian bra and panties. "I just needed...I needed a minute."

"Mmmm," Booth moaned as she climbed back onto him, pushing Booth down onto the bed. "Yeah, well, you might've needed a minute, and you got it. But, now, I need something else, and I think it's my turn to get what I need, Bones."

"And, what's that?"

He thrust his pelvis up into her, and Brennan grinned down at him as she said, "Oh, yes." She stopped, smiling at him, and said, "I know that's something you've been trying to tell me you need some help with, right?"

"God," Booth groaned at her words. Throwing his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut as he shook his head in exasperation. "You're killing me, Bones. Ya know, with the yip yap? You're absolutely fucking killing me—"

Booth's words abruptly stopped as he felt Brennan's hands goes to the buttons on his ACU trousers. With skilled hands and using quite adroit movements, Brennan thumbed them open one at a time. Booth felt a wave of pleasure at her ministrations and let himself fall back into the bed as she began to finish undressing him. After another minute or two, quickly, Brennan's hands snaked inside the trousers, and she suddenly felt a strong flare of annoyance flush through her as her hand encountered not the soft but stiff warmth she had been anticipating, but felt another layer of cotton blocking her way.

"For fuck's sake," she muttered, more to herself than Booth as the disbelief registered in her voice. "Now, this is getting just a bit ridiculous."

Booth's head shot up from the bed, noting the change in Brennan's tone, and he swallowed a couple of times before he finally gained enough focus to concentrate on her words, but couldn't do anything more than tilt his head to ask for clarification.

"How many damn layers do you have on under here?" Brennan asked in exasperation, answering his question and venting some of her ire at him. "Goddamn it, Booth, I know Hazmat team members that don't wear this many tiers of protective garments."

"Uhhh," Booth swallowed once and then offered lamely. "It's not like I can go commando, Bones—even if I am a commando." She gave him a blank look. "Special Forces, you know? The Army sorta has this thing about rules, and they kinda like us following regs, and I'd be out of uniform—"

Suddenly, and with a quite vicious tug, Brennan used both of her hands to pull the ACU trousers down from around his waist. "Stop explaining, Booth." She then tilted her head and pointed at him, "But, just for the record, like I said, Booth, big mouth," Brennan grinned evilly. "You have a very big mouth when, right now, you really need to be quiet."

Looking down at the offensive garment as she saw the white cotton civvies staring back at her now that the ACU trousers had been discarded, Brennan sighed heavily. She then shook her head before she looking back at Booth and said, "Okay, now I don't mind doing most of the work here, but you could help me out a bit since I'm expecting some type of chastity belt to be the next surprise I find when I pull your briefs down, Booth. So, if you wouldn't mind lifting up your ass a little bit so I can yank these down, I'll know what part of my field pack I need to go grab to get the hardware to unlock—"

Feeling as if he had been chastised enough, Booth reached up, grabbed Brennan, and then rolled them over on to the bed. His hands came up to her bra, and he palmed her breasts through the thin material of the nude colored underwire bra. "Now, look. I told you, the Army has its regs."

"I don't care—" Brennan said flippantly, her annoyance still present in her voice. "But, damn it, Booth, it's taken me longer to get you stripped down than several homicide investigations I've participated in...I mean, for fuck's sake, I know I've ID'd multiple sets of bodies in Limbo in the amount of time it's taken to get you just to this point, and you're still not even naked yet—"

Not one to let a challenge like that go unanswered, Booth rolled away from her slightly, freeing his hands long enough to push the white cotton civvies off of his hips and down his legs. In the mean time, Brennan had rolled over on to her side and watched him with a clear look of intense interest in her eyes.

Kicking the offensive garment away, Booth stared at her proudly as he lifted his gaze to meet hers. He raised his index finger at her and pointed with a bit of a challenge coming into his voice. "Now, who's the one who's not naked here, ehh, Bones?"

Moving her leg slightly in the air, Brennan kicked enough to propel her from where she had been laying on her side so that she was in an upright position. Very, very quickly, she reached behind her back and unclasped the bra. Tossing it casually on the floor, she only took a few more seconds to lift her ass up and pull down the simple pair of white cotton string bikinis she was wearing. Again, she casually kicked them off the bed, and when she raised her eyes to meet Booth's, any witty retorts she had on the tip of her tongue instantly dissolved.

Booth, surprised at how patient he'd been able to be as she finished taking off her clothes, suddenly couldn't stay waiting on the sidelines any longer. His eyes had darkened to a black so deep, Brennan would've sworn the last time she had seen that particular color it was when she had mixed an old-fashioned ink packet in the lab. That was the last coherent thought she remembered having before he pounced, pulling them close together, so that when they stopped moving, Booth was on the bottom, and Brennan sat straddling him, a knee pinioned on each side of his thigh. Her eyes sparkled as she watched him, looking down at him in expectation, curious to see what he would do first.

His hands, finally able to touch and linger where he'd always wanted to go ,seemed to be at a loss as to what Booth should touch first, but the hesitation only lasted for a few seconds before his eyes focused on Brennan's breasts.

"I love you," Booth muttered, licking his lips in frenzied anticipation. "But, even if I didn't, I think I could learn to love you because you have, by far and away, one of the best pairs of tits I've ever seen."

Brennan laughed, a deep throaty chuckle, as she contemplated his words and then nodded. "Touch me," she encouraged him, her voice breathless as she couldn't manage to repeat anything more detailed than her initial invitation. "Touch me—"

He didn't need any further encouragement. His hands coming up to her breasts, he used his palms to cup each one simultaneously, loving the heavy feel of each one as he gently rolled them from side to side. Brennan closed her eyes, and swallowed once, as she allowed the sensations to wash over her. The delicate skin of the underside of her breasts was extremely soft, and Booth loved how silky felt against the rough and callused spots of his palms. He also was quite mesmerized when he felt Brennan relax a bit against him, falling forward as he continued to play with her, and moan softly.

"God—" she moaned again. "Oh, God, Booth."

Letting his hands fall away from where he had cupped her breasts, Booth took an index finger and used each hand to lightly begin tracing circles around her nipples, each a dusky rose in color that was just a couple of shades darker than the pale skin that was already flushed red with her arousal. Her nipples were already hard, but Booth continued to lightly touch them, drawing circles, first in clockwise, and then in counter clockwise movements. Brennan hissed as she felt her nipples continue to grow into tighter peaks, if such a thing were possible. "Stop teasing me," she finally growled. "It's not a very nice thing to do."

"I'm just doing what you told me to do, Bones," Booth lightly chided her. "You did say 'touch me'... and that's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well, now it's time for you to touch me somewhere else, Booth," Brennan said. Shaking her head, she grabbed his hands and pushed them away from her breasts.

Leaning down, her hair fell forward. Now, cut much shorter than it had been seven months earlier, it wasn't long enough than to more than tickle Booth's neck and chest. But, when he inhaled deeply, he felt a pleasant tightening in his groin as he grew even harder at the familiar scent of honey, milk, vanilla, and amber—or, Bones, Booth thought simply.

Reaching up, he began to kiss her and soon they were lost in the ferociously fantastic duel of tongues. While no more than a few seconds passed, it seemed as if the two of them were competing to see either who could last the longest before passing out from oxygen deprivation or who could suck the other's soul (or in Brennan's case, metaphorical soul) out of the other.

Her body awake and energized with her growing arousal, Brennan's hands reached down and sought out the source of proud stiffness that she felt poking her first in the thigh, and later, when they had started kissing while rolling around on her bed, in her stomach. It was Booth's turn to hiss when Brennan grabbed him, but she kissed away the unpleasant sound as she murmured, "You're lucky I'm not as such a cruel a tease as you are."

She increased the pressure on her grasp just a little bit, and then pumped him once or twice to emphasize her point.

"Bones—" Booth growled.

"Like I said," Brennan replied, easing her group, "You're just lucky I'm not as mean as you are, Booth. Because, as much as I'd love to draw this out by pushing you to the edge by fisting and licking and sucking your cock until you were on the edge of mental oblivion, I'm not so cruel to keep both of us from doing what we really need to do right now."

Cracking open an eye, although Booth was fairly certain he knew what she meant, he muttered, "And, what's that?"

"To come," Brennan murmured, shifting her hip and lifting herself up just a bit as she positioned his cock at the entrance to her warm folds, moisture that had been dripping down her leg and onto his thighs now glistening on the tip of his penis that was already wet with his own precum. Releasing him, Brennan looked over and met Booth eyes as she whimpered, "Now?"

Reaching up, Booth brought both of his hands to meet hers as he intertwined his fingers with hers and then thrust up and into her in a single fluid movement. Caught slightly off guard, Booth smirked as he nodded and said, "No, not then." He stopped, held her eyes for a few seconds, and then, just to be difficult as he made his point, he smiled and said, "I think I prefer... now."

"Bastard," Brennan whimpered as she felt the length of him stretching her in a way that wasn't painful, but was a sensation that took a moment to adjust to since it had been so long since she'd had sex. "Such a bastard," she breathed, at that moment, twisting her pelvis as Booth tried to push even deeper into her although Brennan was already seated to the hilt.

"God, Bones—" Booth muttered, ignoring her earlier taunt. "Jesus...you feel...so fucking good."

She twisted again, and then felt a bit of desperation begin to seize her as she felt the first tell-tale signs of her impending orgasm starting to creep into her consciousness. "Booth," Brennan mumbled. "Move. Oh—move. Please move."

Only too happy to fulfill her simple command, Booth pushed his ass down into the softness of the bed's mattress at the same time Brennan lifted herself off his cock, before she plunged down on it again at the same time he thrust upwards. The pair fell into a perfectly synchronized rhythm. It took only a few strokes before Booth knew he was very, very close to coming. However, he used as much willpower as he could. He heard Brennan whimper again as her last efforts, the ones that had resulted in her impaling herself on his stiff cock, seemed to finally push her over the edge. The tell tale tightening of her walls all around him seemed to pull Booth even more deep into her, and that sensation alone would have been enough to push him on towards his climax. However, when he heard her moan his name, the world seemed to stop, and in that second, the span of a heartbeat, nothing existed for them outside that bed, and the connection that had been almost six years in the making—just him, just her.

"Booo-thhh," she cried, her voice hoarse and louder than she'd later remember she had been when she called out his name.

Collapsing against his chest, still warm, but now covered in sweat, Brennan was out of her head when she felt, but didn't analyze the sensations of Booth thrusting up into her one last time and then calling out her name, almost as if he were chanting a mantra. As she felt his warmth shoot up into her, Brennan closed her eyes and felt a different, but still pronounced second orgasm emanate from the center of her pelvic region. The unexpected, but very sweet release, made her relax into a pliant and utterly satisfied mass of warm contentment as she relaxed onto on his chest.

It took several minutes, the silence interrupted only by their breathing, before Booth finally shifted and looked down at Brennan. Lifting his head slightly, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Slowly, Brennan shifted in his arms, and when blue eyes met brown, she greeted him with a smile that, from that moment on, Booth decided would be one of his favorite mental images of all time.

"See?" he told her, after a minute. "I... I told you, Bones."

"What?" Brennan asked, her voice still soft and so utterly feminine that it pleased Booth in a way he never thought he'd wanted to be satisfied before Brennan had come to be in this place, in this time, like this, with him.

Reach down, he kissed her again, before he said with a warm smile. "You and me, Bones? As long as it's us—as long as we love each other... no matter what happens, we'll always get to where we need to go."

"That place being my bed replete with sexual satisfaction?" Brennan asked in a languid voice.

Grinning, Booth nodded. "That's just for starters, Bones. Just for starters."

And, in that moment, Brennan knew that Booth was right. But, that wasn't the important part. What was the important part was that they were there, together, in love, and would always get to where they needed to go... together.


~The End~... or, is it? (See Author's Note #3 Below)


A/N2: So, there it is. Here's the conclusion to what was an impromptu collaboration with dharmamonkey. And, on that note, it's worth saying that I've bestowed upon the wonderful dharmamonkey—who has collaborated on this piece more than she'd admit because what's she's done is way more than just the "Booth-y parts—the erstwhile and honorific title of "the Booth whisperer." She's asked what this meant, so I place before everyone a concrete definition. A "whisperer" in slang for "anyone with a strong affinity for a particular animal or being" who can understand and communicate with them in a way that few others are successful at achieving. Squint-to-nonsquint translation: she relates to Booth, understands him, and gets his character to do or say things—quite logically and realistically—that others can't. So, there you are. Everyone give her a proverbial round of applause. :)

And, now, since some of you guys asked for it, and have now received it, tell me, errr… okay, us, really, because this turned out to be an impromptu co-authoring adventure so really it's 'we'—how'd we do? Love it, hate it, indifferent? Normally, I don't give the shout out for reviews, but since this little plot bunny was tossed my way, and dharmamonkey lifted a helping hand, some feedback for both of us would be really great—lurkers, regular reviewers, one and all who make writers happy writers would make us even more excitably ecstatic than we usually are—which might not be a good thing since we're usually a bit off the walls, but, oh well. Toss us a comment or two! Many thanks in advance… and thanks for reading!~

A/N3: Originally, this piece stood as a very long one-shot that got split into two parts. However, because of a certain bit of inspiration hitting a certain monkey's muse in the head—and then said monkey hitting me in the head—a sequel one-shot (again, split into two very long parts) was born. Instead of posting it under its own story to make certain nothing gets lost, please click on to part 3 to read the new additions. Enjoy!~