That's Why I'm Here
By LizD
Written June 2011
So ... we have a quorum. Thank you for your votes of confidence, I hope I do you and B&B justice. Here we go ...
Chapter Two
x|x x|x x|x x|x x|x x|x
An hour later they rested quietly in each other's arms. They had crossed the line. There was no going back. Their relationship had changed; in the space of sixty minutes – more or less - they moved into a whole new arena. Neither was surprised, except for the timing. Were they ready for it? How much clean up had to be done? How much fallout from the past two years would they have to sort through? Could they just skip a dozen steps because they were in pain and needed each other? Was it really a dozen or would a heartfelt blanket apology and a general acceptance from each suffice? Was that even unnecessary? Hadn't they already forgiven each other a while back? Now wasn't it about forgiving themselves? Was the time argument just a good excuse to take a short cut? What would be the purpose of sorting through all their stuff knowing that where they were that morning was the ultimate resolution regardless of anything else? It was fate, wasn't it? Do you apologize for not recognizing fate when it comes up and bites you in the ass, or maybe all of it was fate from the five year dance, to the initial rejection, to the seven month separation, to Hannah, to mistakes realized, to the slow crawl back to reconnecting as partners and friends? Maybe everything that happened over the past seven years was their destiny planned down to the minutest detail as was their ultimate coming together physically and emotionally the night of a friend's death as if it were scripted by powers far greater than themselves. Brennan didn't believe in fate or higher powers; and Booth, he was more of a realist than a romantic – he was convinced that fate existed, but believed that each person has a hand in making his own. So was it fate, circumstance, happenstance or did it matter?
In any or all events … what was next? Next as in the next hour. How did they get out of bed and go back to work?
This was new to Brennan. She had had many sexual liaisons in her life of course and some with colleagues, but none that had such a heavy onus on the future rather than the present. If nothing else, whatever was next, it could not be treated casually. Brennan was more familiar with casual. Booth wasn't prepared for the giant step they had taken either. He knew it was coming sooner or later, but he didn't think it would happen that night. As the light of day made real what they experienced it would need to be addressed. Neither Booth nor Brennan was convinced that a relationship would work for them and stated as such. He had asked for 'a chance' way back when and she had suggested that they 'try to be together.' Were they just trying to soften the impact? Or were they hedging their bets for the time when it would end? It was a safe bet that they would ultimately break up as neither one had been in a long term relationship - a sexual relationship - that lasted more than a year, eighteen months at most. This relationship was different, of course, but was it different enough? Both knew that whatever happened for them it was not a fairy tale. Nor was falling into bed a curative for what ailed them, but it helped to ease the symptoms.
First things first, how to get out of bed and go to work. He had no idea. Brennan helped. She always helped.
"I need to get to the lab," she said as she put her hand flatly on his chest and pushed herself up. "I need to find out everything I can to help you catch Broadsky."
"You always do, Bones." She was stunningly beautiful with her hair mussed and the dark circles under her tear stained eyes. He wasn't ready for the day; he wanted more time. It was too soon to leave the safety of the haven they had just created.
With no embarrassment or awkwardness at her nakedness - not that she had anything to be embarrassed about - she got up from his bed and went to the bathroom. He couldn't help but notice that her hesitation, her uneasiness, her trepidation with him that was there just last night was all but gone. They had just professed their love for each other verbally and physically, they shared the grief of a lost friend and colleague, and that seemed to be enough to put her back on task and level footing with him. He had expected some kind of change, some kind of alteration but not that and not so completely. He was still overwhelmed with love and appreciation for her. Just an hour ago, she had been vulnerable, needy, damn near weak with him - a total first for Brennan. Then she opened herself completely to him in a way that no woman ever had - or maybe he had opened up to her in a way he never had. He half expected her to withdraw from him again; he honestly expected some kind of backlash, or walls going up again when the sun came up. But he never expected that she would be – dare he think it – comfortable. She had always been very practical and accepted reality as a matter of course, but everything had changed for her, for them. Yet she was still Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institution and she had work to do in spite of all that she was feeling. Of course the whole thing was odd. This was not how he imagined it would be, but it seemed normal, it seemed right. It seemed appropriate in light of all the circumstances.
Brennan washed up in the bathroom and was surprise at how normal she felt regardless of all the emotions that were raging through her: joy, devastation, trepidation, fear, hope. So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours and so much would happen in the next twenty-four. They were by no means safe - physically or emotionally. The emotional stuff would just have to take a backseat again today. Broadsky was the top priority. No one else could die at his hands - no one. She caught her eye in the mirror. "No one," she said to herself but there was only one person on her mind when she was thinking that. She may as well have said it out loud, "Booth cannot die." She had a part to play in that, and would do all that she could. She would do what Booth needed.
She reentered from the bathroom, still naked and unembarrassed, and went to the living room to collect her clothes. In a moment, Booth got up, pulled on his boxers and followed after her. "Bones?"
"Will you allow me to go to the lab by myself?" she asked earnestly. "I'll need to take a cab as my car is not here and I'll need to stop at my apartment to shower and change."
Booth smiled. This could have been any other day to her except for the part where she was dressing in his living room and asked his permission. Of course for his part it was different enough that he knew what she looked like, what she felt like under those clothes. "No," he said evenly. "But I can be ready in five minutes." He needed to get his head back into the job. "I'm sorry we should have stopped by your apartment last night to pick up a change of clothes and a toothbrush at least. I have an extra." He hitched a thumb over his shoulder toward the bathroom. "It's new, never been used, still in the package." It felt weird offering her a toothbrush that was purchased for Ha- … another woman and not just any other woman.
She shrugged a nod and continued to dress.
She seemed Ok. She seemed like Brennan. He wondered if he were reading her correctly. Normally he wouldn't ask but that morning it was important to not assume anything. "Bones, are you OK?"
She paused and reflected on the question. "I still don't understand what Mr. Nigel Murray was saying and ..." She chocked up and her eyes watered. "And the reality of his death is still …." She wiped at her eyes and continued to dress. "But I assume in time ... I assume that stopping Broadsky will be some sort of retribution though that has never made sense to me either. Mr. Nigel Murray will still be dead."
The day before a comment like that would cause Booth to wince at the harshness of it, but he was back on track with her. He had understood her language again and knew that she was mourning the loss. "Yeah ... just some time." He wiped at his own face. "And you can bet we will get Broadsky." He stepped toward her and softened his tone. That wasn't the question he was trying to get answered. "What I meant to ask was … are we OK?"
She looked up into his eyes. For the first time she really noticed that he was very nearly naked and a surge of desire coursed through her coupled with a need to protect him. She had experienced him physically and emotionally in a way that was new. She knew how he moved and reacted while having sex. It was very liberating to have that kind of knowledge and she wanted to learn more – when the time was right. For the present they had a job to do, and Booth needed to stay alive. "Yes, of course."
Of course she would answer that way. Booth mentally slapped himself on the forehead. She wasn't going to miraculously turn into some clingy female now that she had experienced the great Seeley Booth. Temperance Brennan wasn't all of a sudden going to need assurances of love and fidelity and promises of forever. For a woman with no professed faith in the intangibles of life, she certainly did accept what people said at face value. He could treat her as he always had – more intimately of course - but not any differently. Did Booth need those assurances? Maybe. "Ok." He turned to go get dressed.
"Booth?" she called to him and waited for him to turn back. "Are we?"
He smiled softly at her. "Yes. Yes, of course. Better than."
She nodded but he saw in her eyes that she was ebbing back to uncertainty. She was a thinker and would think this thing through many times before they had a chance to be alone again. She wouldn't get an idea stuck in her head and fly off on some emotional tangent, but she could think her way into a box - he knew that first hand - it was his job to keep her thinking so she could work her way out. He stepped over to her and put his finger under her chin and lifted her face so her eyes were looking into his. "We're going to be fine," he corrected from certainly to an assurance of faith. It was a subtle difference it was not lost on either of them. "But we have a job to do today."
"Yes we do." She nodded and smiled weakly at him. She appreciated the assurance and was grateful to have the certainty taken off the table.
"It may not be today, Bones." He put his hands on her arms and rubbed them gently. "Broadsky may be in the wind. We'll catch him, you know that. But it may not be today."
"I know." She didn't like the idea that Broadsky maybe in their lives for the foreseeable future, but it was a very real possibility.
"We'll catch him," he stated in that cocky way of his.
"I know that too."
"Ok."
"Ok." He started to turn away but she grasped his forearm. "You'll be very careful, won't you? No unnecessary risks."
"None. I'll be very careful."
"You are better than Broadsky in every way," she said to herself more than Booth. "But please be careful."
"No hero stuff, I promise."
She smiled brightly. "You can't make that promise. You are a hero."
Booth put his hand over hers. She may not be a typical girl with the art of flattery, but she damn sure knew how to puff him up. "I'll be careful, Bones." He wanted to add more. He wanted to kiss her and assure her that he had one more reason to live and come back to her, but she didn't want that kind of assurance.
She nodded and released her grip on his arm. She turned to fold the sheets from the sofa. He watched her for a moment. He was going to tell her that he would take care of it later, but she seemed to need the activity.
He slipped from the room, showered and dressed and was back in seven minutes: FBI Standard Issue Black Suit, dark tie, sniper belt buckle, funky socks. He looked tired, but alert, aware and back in the game. She was dressed and waiting for him. The sheets and blankets had been folded and put away, his bed was made. She apparently needed something to do in those seven minutes.
They paused at the door. Once they crossed that threshold it would no longer be Booth and Brennan in the safety of their haven. The outside world would get between them, interfere and intrude. Their past would be standing right there to block their easy path. Questions would need to be answered for themselves, for each other and for their friends. They would be searching for answers to questions that they had yet to consider, but there was time - hopefully, there would be time for questions and answers.
He took her hand and pressed is warmly. He gave her a soft smile that lit his eyes. She returned it. Then he opened the door and the spell was broken. Vinent's death and Broadsky were right there to make sure that they didn't reveal in any joy they might possibly be thinking about feeling. He released her hand, and placed his on her back leading her out of the building. He was on alert all the way to her apartment and the lab and never stopped giving her instructions to maintain her safety. She accepted them all and told him that her day would consist of studying Leishenger's remains in the bone room, she was safe. To an untrained eye nothing had changed. To a casual observer, they were little more than estranged partners. But he held her look a little longer. She looked a little deeper into his eyes. There was an ever so slight smile. And the burden overshadowing everything was shared making it slightly easier to bear.
He walked her into the lab an up to her office. No one was around, it was too early. He took both her hands in his. "Be safe," he said again.
"Please stay in touch with me ... I'll need to know where you are."
"You'll know ... you always know." He smiled brightly. "Find me something I can use, OK?"
"I will."
He didn't know how to walk away. Kiss? Hug? Nothing? "You know I -," he hesitated.
"Yeah, me too."
"Right." His smiled broadened. "Right." He pressed her hands and tore himself away from her.
She stood watching him go. Should she have kissed him? Was that normal? Was anything normal the day after Vincent's death? She had work to do.
x|x x|x x|x x|x x|x x|x
Booth made his way to the office his head full of everything. He was on the phone most of the way, which he knew was not the best defensive tactic, but he didn't believe Broadsky would be lying in wait. If he were in Broadsky's place, he'd make a break for it. Get out of town as quickly as possible. He was lying up information on Leishenger. The boss was being brought in. Everyone was on task.
He found himself with a moment's peace before the next round. He went to the window, the very same window he had scolded Brennan for standing in front of the day before. His head filled with thoughts of her again. He still wasn't regretting the step they had taken, but he wished he was sure it was for the right reasons. He almost felt like he took advantage of her in a vulnerable state. That was so far from the truth, but they had come too far to screw up now.
He was out of his element with her, out of his comfort zone. He always had been. It's what attracted him from the beginning. She was so different, so raw, so real, no games, nothing that he was used to. He was used to women like Rebecca, Cam, Hannah or the dozen or so other women he had dated since meeting Brennan. Not really game players in the worst sense of the term, still vastly different than Brennan. He didn't need to hedge or be careful with his phrasing around Brennan. At least he never used to. Maybe that would change. Maybe she was just like every other woman in the world and needed all the assurances that a woman in love needs.
In Love?
Was she in love with him? She loved him. She said so. But was she in love with him? Was he with her?
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and speed dialed her number.
"Hey," he said softly.
"Hi," she was a little surprised to hear from him. "I don't have anything for you yet."
"No, no ... I didn't think you would. Leishenger's boss is going to be here in a minute."
"Do you want me to be there to help you interrogate him?"
"No," he said but he did want her there. He thought faster when she was around. "No, you need to get me something from Leishenger's remains that might point me in the right direction."
"I'm working on it."
"I know. I know. Thanks, Bones." He didn't want to hang up. He wanted to tell her something. "I just want to keep you in the loop." He wanted to add that he wanted to check in with her to see how she was doing with everything.
"Thank you." She didn't want to hang up either.
"Ok ... well ... I should probably get back ..."
She didn't respond.
"Bones?"
"Thank you," she said again softly with a lot more feeling.
"For keeping you in the loop? I said I would."
"That ... and for last night ... this morning ... I don't know what I would have done if I were alone last night. You knew that, I didn't. Thank you."
That was all he needed. All he needed was to know that she was thinking about him, and about them and about that morning and what she was thinking was not bad. "Sure." Normally he would have blown if off with a banal comment like that's what friends are for, or something similarly inane about partners but they were beyond partners and friends now. "I'll always be there for you, Bones."
"I know." She would take the assurance as it was intended and not as a promise that couldn't be made.
It was time for an admission, one he should have made before. "It was a little selfish too."
She smiled. "Good."
They said good bye at the same time and each hung up.
Booth slipped the phone back into his pocket. He had no idea how to proceed with Brennan when this Broadsky thing was over: More of the same ... with benefits? Dates and flowers? Somewhere in between? Something completely different? All he knew was that it was finally moving and it felt ... right in spite of how wrong everything was.
A knock came on his door and he was snapped back to Broadsky and all that came with it.
"Yeah?"
"Matt Leishenger's boss is in the interrogation room," said Special Agent Shaw.
"Hilton Trucking right?"
"Yes sir." She paused. "The kid who was killed in the lab? Was he a friend of yours?"
"Yes he was."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Well you know what, don't be sorry," he forced a smile. "Help me get revenge."
x|x x|x x|x x|x x|x x|x
Brennan put her phone away her head again filled with Booth. She had Leishenger's skull in her hands and was studying it, but her mind was not on it. She knew she needed to work, to focus, to find something that meant anything that would be helpful. The truth was, maybe there wasn't anything to find, but she had to try. She had to do something.
Thoughts of her experience with Booth crept into the edges of her mind. It was quite distracting. The sex was only part of it. Being held by him, comforted by him when she was so raw, so vulnerable, so needy was a new experience for her. She hadn't needed anyone in nearly twenty years. She hadn't broken down like that with anyone, for anyone probably in her whole life. She had of course experienced death, loss, grief but she never let herself feel it so viscerally. She had always intellectualized it. She truly was changing. She claimed she was improving, but it didn't feel like an improvement. It felt very scary. She felt safe with Booth. He made it safe.
Angela strolled into the room.
"Hey, you've been staring at Leishenger's skull for like a really long time." She forced a smile. "Trying to get that thing to talk to you?"
"Are you being metaphoric?"
"No, I was just trying to lighten the mood, didn't work."
"The mastoid process is generally not a target in close quarter combat. Perhaps I should examine it microscopically."
"You told me that an hour ago. What is going on? Is this about Vincent?"
Brennan looked down and felt shame and sadness. "Yes."
"Yeah."
"And ..." She looked up at Angela. "I got into bed with Booth last night."
Angela was stunned and shocked and speechless. Angela was never speechless.
"Why aren't you saying anything," Brennan pressed.
"Because ... I don't want to yell Hallelujah so close to losing Vincent."
"I think I did it because of Vincent."
"Wait ... whoa ... what exactly happened after you ... after you crawled into bed with Booth?"
Brennan was struck with a sense of guilt over actions and an odd smile crossed her face as she looked for the words to answer Angela.
Hodgins came flying into the room. "I got the GC Mass Spec results on the bullet that killed Vincent."
"Honey No," Angela shouted. "Not right now. I'm sorry ... I love you but ... go tell Cam. Go ... Away ... AWAY!"
Hodgins left very confused.
"That could be very important," Brennan said.
"Sweetie, this is important. This is important. So what ... you just drove over to his apartment and got into bed with him?"
"No, I stayed at his place."
"He invited you into his bed?"
"No, just to his apartment. He was trying to protect me from Broadsky; that's the reason he gave. I was sleeping on the couch."
"What was the real reason you stayed there?"
"I think he knew," Brennan hedged.
"Knew what?"
"That I would have a difficult time processing Vincent's death - not how he died by why."
"So what happened?"
"I woke him up ... it was late, early rather. We talked about Vincent. He tried to help me make some sense out of it - but there is not sense. Then I cried on his shoulder ... literally."
"Of course you did." Angela smirked. "So, is that all that happened?"
Brennan again was washed with guilt. "No."
"NO? Really ... I mean no ... there was more. A lot more or a little more?"
"Well it was very early in the morning and we had to get to work."
Angela was exasperated. "Did you have sex?"
"Yes."
"Was it great?" Angela dished. "Don't tell me ... no tell me?"
"It wasn't what I expected, but I think we were both affected by Vincent's death. In fact that is the reason he pushed it further. He said we had lost too much time already."
"Time? Lost too much time?" Angela laughed nervously.
"Was that wrong?" Brennan really needed to be told the truth as she didn't know how to think about it. "It feels a little opportunistic."
"No Sweetie, it's not wrong and it's not the other thing." She came around the table and took Brennan's hand. "If Booth were any other man, I would have said it was a line, but not from him and definitely not to you. Did he tell you he loved you?"
"Yes."
"Did you say it back?"
"Yes."
"And you meant it."
"Of course."
"And this morning? How was this morning? How did you part?"
Brennan shrugged. "We're OK."
"OK?"
"Yeah."
"Does that mean that this is not a one night thing and then back to business as usual."
Brennan shook her head. "I don't expect it to be business as usual after we catch Broadsky."
Angela still hadn't gotten a read on her. "So ... are you happy about this?"
"Yes ... but I don't think this should be broadcast around, you know?"
"I understand."
"We need some time to sort it out ourselves, you know?"
"Is that what he said?"
"No, we didn't talk about it. I can count on you?"
"Of course, Sweetie. I won't even tell Hodgins... for a day or two." She smiled broadly. "I'm happy for you." She pulled her into a tight hug.
Brennan still didn't share Angela's exuberance, but she was happy too.
