[A/N: This story will be proof that I should write fics completely before posting. Every time I fail to do that, I create havoc. I may have just done that. I'd begun this story planning to have it focus on Booth's POV exclusively. And then, wham... I decided to add a chapter from Temperance's perspective. Not sure this will work or whether I'll continue with this approach or should go back to the original plan (which was still under development)... Just thought you deserved fair warning that I'm wandering dangerously without a plan here-I'm not sure exactly where this one is headed.]
Chapter 3
Wednesday, 6:27 p.m.
Seeing her partner and being near enough to reach out and touch him rattled Temperance to the bone. She knew that very thought was utterly irrational, but she didn't even consider contradicting those thoughts and feelings. She'd felt an actual physical blow seeing Booth up close and then being ripped away from him. The moment they'd drawn close to one another, she'd instantly tried to reconcile her distinct and oft-remembered inventory of Booth's facial features with the frantic expression he now wore. In mere seconds, she noted the added lines, the dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion filling his features, and the stress of this unexpected situation. Cataloguing his features as carefully as the scientist would do naturally, she ached realizing afresh that she had been the source of most of the strain he'd experienced.
As the officers handcuffed her and moved her quickly away from him, she heard Booth's voice calling out to her—reassuring her and promising her he'd help. His proffered support hurt more than it helped. She'd left him alone to worry for months, and, when she'd resurfaced without warning only to draw the attention of the authorities, he hadn't been angry or accusatory at all. He'd just been Booth—her protector, her partner, her mate. She didn't even pretend that he wouldn't lash out at some point soon about her departure and lack of communication. She knew that she deserved the accusations and anger he'd direct toward her eventually.
She knew that the logical course of action now would be to remain calm, to avoid responding to any questions, and to obtain legal counsel. Because she would have limited time to make only one phone call, she should have been preparing a plan for what she would do in that very moment. However, as she sat there in the back of the police car watching the city she'd vacated months earlier pass by, she felt as if she'd never do the logical thing or make the rational choice again. It was as if her actions of this one day had separated her forever from her calm, detached, entirely logical self. All she felt in this moment was emotion—enough to drown her with its fury. She physically ached to hold her child and couldn't even consider how long it might be until she was able to do so again. She yearned to have stolen a hug or a kiss from Booth. She knew that his touch, his affection, would be enough to sustain her and give her hope. Lacking all those things, she felt alone and helpless and vulnerable—and she wasn't comfortable with the latter two emotions as they were as completely foreign to her as the pop culture references and expressions Booth so often tried to explain to her. Alone, she could handle. Helpless and vulnerable? Not so much.
Temperance closed her eyes and remembered the events that had led up to this situation. It wasn't a complicated story, and her actions had not been logical since she'd woken that morning.
She'd arisen on her new-normal schedule, showered and dressed, and then fed Christine and dressed her for the day. She'd packed a bag and the diaper bag quickly and then loaded the car and left her safe house. She'd scrawled a quick note for her father—she'd known that he wouldn't have allowed her to be so rash and take such risks. Yet, knowing the logic he'd use to persuade her of the error of her ways and ignoring it, she'd left anyway.
She had reached a crossroads and had to take action. She'd simply needed to see Booth and had decided that she'd been away from him long enough. Consequences and the threat of imprisonment had no longer terrified her. But she had been overwhelmed by the feeling that one more day away from her lover might sever something deep within her metaphorical heart. Unwilling to risk that possibility and the fact that she might lose her connection to the man she loved so deeply, she'd simply gotten into the car and driven back toward Booth.
The entire day she'd considered calling him but decided it was too risky. She knew that she couldn't just go to their home—it was likely that the FBI or Pelant or both were monitoring that site in the hoped that she'd arrive there. Instead, she'd parked her car in a public park near the river and napped during the afternoon. Awakened by the alarm on her phone, she'd fed Christine, bathed her in hugs and kisses, and tucked her safely into the infant carrier. As she'd driven the car as near the Hoover Building as she'd dared, she had spoken to her daughter about her father and about the brief reunion that was impending. Her voice had been sure and steady—she was convinced that even a few moments alone with Booth would be enough to enable her to find the strength to disappear again and remain in hiding as long as necessary. Her daughter had sensed her anticipation and had babbled and gurgled happily as her mother had driven them toward their real home—toward her father.
Temperance had learned a great deal from Booth about techniques for following suspects while remaining undetected. She'd employed all of those maneuvers skillfully as she'd followed his SUV into traffic. Dodging his intermittent glances in the rearview mirror had been challenging—especially given the limited space to move in the heavy traffic. But she'd performed satisfactorily and had remained undetected behind him. With her intense focus on hiding her presence from her lover until she could find a moment to signal him that she was there, she had not noticed the car following closely behind her. She had been spotted by the agents assigned to tail Booth on his way home, and they had called for backup even as she'd sat quietly in traffic, feeling blessed to have a few precious moments to spy on her lover as he waited impatiently in his vehicle.
Her throat had closed up when she'd first glimpsed him. Emotion had overcome her, and she'd trembled all over from pure need for him. She'd blinked back tears and relished the time to just watch him. His ticks and tells known to her as well as he knew her own. She smiled watching him tap his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. She imagined the ways she'd have bickered with him lightly to distract him if they'd been in that vehicle together. She sighed with love and with longing for his presence, his touch, his reassurance. Finally unable to take it any longer, she'd retrieved her phone and begun calling his number. Caught up in the anticipation, she hadn't seen the officers move from their car to surround her.
Blocking out the sounds of their instructions and the clicks of the safeties being disengaged on their weapons, she'd dropped her phone and raised her hands obediently, all the while focused on the vision of the man in the car ahead of her. She'd trembled as she'd seen Booth notice her, and she'd ached as she'd watched him leap from the SUV and rush recklessly toward her. Booth's skill in removing the agents and officers from his path had not surprised her. But she'd hardly noticed anything aside from the determination on his face and the way he was moving so strongly and purposefully toward her.
His simple grunt of her name once he drew close nearly made her knees buckle. Again irrational thoughts and feelings had flooded her system.
She wanted to go back into hiding.
She wanted to change the fact that she'd ever considered coming home without warning him.
She wanted to go back and kill Pelant before any of this had happened to them.
She ached to do anything to change the fact that she could not simply rush to him and spend hours standing there in his embrace.
Thinking a million thoughts and feeling so much more than even that, she'd gazed up at him wordlessly, save for the name most dear to her, "Booth."
