Title: "Safe"
Author: ForensicMama ()
Pairing: Brennan, Booth
Spoilers: n/a... maybe a little bit of S4.
Chapter Summary:In his arms, she felt safe enough to let go of those memories. All of the times her casual lover had made love to her then made a quick retreat. It was a lot more painful than she had allowed herself to believe. Until she was safe.
Rating: K+/T
Chapter: 1-Shot

She counted the minutes.

It took exactly five before he rolled out of bed. Ten more before the shower water turned off. One had passed before he came back into the dimly lit bedroom.

She still lay wrapped in the sheets, still hot with moisture.

He dropped the towel and put his jeans back on.

"I'm sorry I gotta go, Tempe. Work's been hell lately. The shit-fucks in accounting can't even count their damned toes." He pulled on his shirt and snatched his shoes. One from beneath the edge of the bed, the other from the edge of the bureau. Then he leaned close and kissed her lips.

She relented, kissing him back.

"See ya later. Drinks tomorrow night?"

She sat up, holding the sheet over her breasts. "Sounds like a date."

He chuckled. "I'd hardly call that a date, babe." He kissed her on the forehead, then walked out of the bedroom.

She could hear him shuffling around in the living room. He was grabbing his tie. Pulling on his jacket. Straightening his hair vainly in the mirror.

Five minutes. The door finally closed, leaving a thick black smoke of solemn emptiness. But in that silence, she was free to be weak. Nobody was there to judge her. Call her pathetic. Sweetie. Hunny.

A few shuddering sobs escaped her. She tipped her head back, grasping her wrists around her knees, watching how the shadows reflected from the spackle on the ceiling. Flitting. Flickering. Hot, human tears slipped from the corner of one eye, then behind her ear and down her neck.

She pressed two hands to her eyes, then stepped out of bed and pulled on a robe. Her first thought was to shower. Scorching fluid. Soon, her whole body was so red that it wasn't so obvious that she had been crying just minutes before.

With her hair in a towel, she sat in the kitchen for several minutes before picking up the phone.

"Bones?" He fell back onto the sheets, his hand over his eyes to block the bright light of his cell.

"Did I wake you?"

"What time is it?" His voice clearly answered her question.

"One twenty-eight."

"You OK?"

"Oh. I was just wondering if you were up. I'm just bored..."

Booth slid out of bed. He sat on the edge, gaining his bearings. "What? You wanna talk or something?" It was meant to be sarcastic.

"That sounds nice. Yes."

He shook his head. The things he did for his partner. "Be there in ten."

And he was. He looked much more awake when he arrived. Of course, he was holding a cup of coffee.

"You really shouldn't drink that, Booth. You won't be able to get to sleep later."

"Well, it was either that or run off the road." He came in and sat at the dining room table while Brennan poured herself a glass of water. She sat opposite of Booth. She spun the glass around between her finger tips.

"Bones. Mind telling me what's going on?"

"I just..." The spinning stopped. "What would you say are the necessary components of a successful, monogomous relationship?"

Booth leaned forward a bit. OK. Brennan wanted to talk about monogamy. No problem. He'd had that conversation a dozen times in his head. Each and every time it ended very nicely. "Where's this coming from?"

"You just happen to be the one person I can depend on when it comes to advice on monogamy. Angela enjoys multiple partners and..." She stopped there.

Booth sipped his coffee. "You want to know the 'necessary components'? Like a recipe?"

"Do you have a recipe?"

"Bones, it's not that easy--"

"But there has to be a common factor that couples who have enjoyed longevity in their relationships share."

"Love."

Brennan tipped her head to one side. "Concrete details would be nice, Booth."

Always the realist. "Love is concrete, Bones."

"I beg to differ--"

"Bones--" He held up a finger to shush her. "Mind if I take the soap box back for a moment?"

She nodded quizzically.

"Alright. You say that love is a bunch of chemical reactions--"

"And our individual interpretations of those chemical releases."

"Whatever. Just--Listen, it's late, so you being quiet and listening would be much appreciated." He paused. "Love isn't that simple, Bones. It's a helluva lot more complicated than that. People who've been married for fifty years? They love each other--"

"Once again, vague, Booth."

"Alright. Think of it like a chart. Love is the big bold word at the top of the screen--"

"The Heading."

"Sure--" He sipped his coffee. "And then there are all of these subheadings--things that make up 'love'. You know, respect is one thing. Friendship. Enjoying spending your time with one another--"

"Common interests?"

"Sometimes. You don't have to be exact duplicates of each other. That would get kind of boring, wouldn't it? You keep each other on your toes more when you're opposites--"

"Like us."

Booth nodded. "We're always bouncing ideas off each other. You don't agree, you tell me a new viewpoint. I'd hate it if you agreed with me all the time. It'd get boring." He smiled at her softly.

"I think I understand--" She tucked her lip between her teeth thoughtfully. She sipped her water, then muttered, "It's possible that my definition of love was flawed."

"But you like mine better, right?" Cocky grin.

She laughed at him lightly. "Yes." The smile on her lips faded when the memory of earlier that night drifted back. Flawed love. Her eyes began to sting , so she looked away.

Booth knew better. He stood up from the chair and pulled Brennan into his arms. "Hey, Bones. It wasn't completely wrong. It just wasn't completely right."

In his arms, she felt safe enough to let go of those memories. All of the times her casual lover had made love to her then made a quick retreat. It was a lot more painful than she had allowed herself to believe. Until she was safe. She sniffed. Then laughed a little. "I'm going to get tears all over your shirt."

"It washes." He smiled at her again--an encouraging, sweet smile. He released her and went into the kitchen. She followed. He patted the countertop.

She hesitated at first, then hopped up, crossing her ankles, and watched as her partner made his way around her kitchen. He knew her kitchen like he knew the little freckles on her neck and how it looked like a star if you connected the dots just right. He pulled out a tea kettle, filled it with water. Neither said a word. He respected her silence. She didn't want to explain her loneliness.

The water was set to boil. He looked back up at Brennan. Her eyes watched her toes. She flexed them, unflexed them.

Whatever it was that was bothering her was beginning to bother him. Seeing her like that wasn't a daily occurrence. He could count the times she had shed a tear in front of him on one hand. No tears had yet overflowed, but they were being held back by a floodgate.

Booth walked to the counter. Brennan gave him a look that said, "I don't want your comfort, but I'll take it if you offer." False strength. He hopped onto the counter beside her, his legs moving at the same speed as hers.

There was a silence. A long silence before anyone spoke. And Brennan hated it. She knew Booth was reading her like he did. He was going to say something about monogamy and how sleeping with a married man was this and that and the other thing... why hadn't she learned her lesson before, etc., etc...

"He's an asshole, Bones," he whispered. No judgment was in his voice. "He doesn't deserve you."

She looked up at him. The pain in her eyes said it all.

He slid his hand over to hers, squeezed it tightly.

"Whoever he is, he doesn't deserve you."

She gave a tear permission to slip down her cheek. It was a small release. But somehow it gave others the right to follow.

He reached over, sliding his palm and thumb along her cheek. He reached to the other cheek.

"Have I told you lately how... amazing you are?"

A muffled, almost forced laugh.

"All of these men, Bones--The sooner they see what I see--" His hand released from her cheek, but then tucked her hair behind her ear. Slowly. Gently. She had to catch her breath. It had been so long since a man had looked at her like that--with love. Not lust. With love. Admiration.

Time slowed. And for a moment, both thought their lips would touch.

The teapot began to whistle.

They laughed nervously.

"Why don't you go into the living room and I'll bring the tea to you?"

Brennan slipped to the floor. He poured the tea, finding a mug that he had left at her place long ago--"World's Best FBI Agent".

"Huh... wondered where that went."

The hot liquid filled the mug. He dipped the Chamomile bag in it until the liquid turned brown, then walked into the living room.

"Do you want honey or anything--" He stopped and set the mug on the end table.

Brennan was laying on her side, eyes closed.

"Bones?"

She did not stir.

He walked up to her, slid his arms under her, one under her knees, one under her shoulders, then took her into her bedroom. He pulled the covers up around her.

Then he straightened.

He bent over, on impulse, and laid a kiss on her lips. He hovered over her for a moment longer than necessary, weight on his fists, simply looking at her. He reached over and turned off the beside lamp. The room was flooded in coal-black night. He turned and left.

Brennan's eyes opened and watched as he walked out, his shadow against the bright hallway light. The house dipped into darkness as he flicked off the lights.

Once again, she was alone with her thoughts and the ambiguity of tragedy averted or joy avoided.