Just a little announcement regarding this sequel. This is fiction - in the real world, anyone suffering from any type of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder should see a doctor without delay. I do not in any way, shape or form recommend attempting to treat someone suffering from a PTSD.
Final chapter, folks! Thanks for being so patient while I fought with the story - and thank you so much for all the truly wonderful reviews! You make my day.
RECOVERY
She spent most of Saturday catching up on some work she'd brought home, and continuing her therapy. She was vigilant about her convalescence, and was getting stronger every day. After finishing her exercises, she was resting on the couch when a thud at the door startled her. Before she could get up, the door popped open and Booth came in, stumbling slightly as he tucked the spare key in his pocket.
"Hey, Bones! How are ya?" He dumped a plastic bag on the floor and wandered into the room. His jacket hit the dining room table with a plop. "Mind if I grab a drink?" Without waiting for an answer, he poked around until he located a bottle of water near the back of the fridge.
"Booth – what's wrong with you?" She leaned back on the couch, watching him drain the water in one shot. He was acting very strange.
"Well, we stopped at Dewar's 12 after the game for a little bit to celebrate – the Hoyas won, by the way – and one thing led to another…" He capped the water, setting it on the counter. It promptly tipped over and rolled onto the floor.
She shook her head. "I don't know what a Dewar's 12 is, or a Hoya, but I'm thinking you probably shouldn't have driven here afterwards." She pointedly examined him, from the smear of dirt on his jeans to his slightly too-bright smile. "How much have you had to drink?"
"Really, I haven't had that much…and I didn't drive. I always take the Metro on game day." He turned in a circle, finally locating the bag he'd dropped. "Ah!" He upended the bag, and several items tumbled out onto the floor. "Where's your toolbox?"
She sighed. "Booth, I really don't think you should do this today. I'm perfectly capable of installing a door lock…" She broke off with an exasperated hiss as he waved his hand at her.
"Bones, I'm fine! Besides, I told you - I broke it, so I'll fix it. It's only right." He promptly dismissed her, turning his back and rummaging around the apartment until he located the toolbox.
Eyeing him doubtfully, she watched him for several minutes, until she was certain he wouldn't injure himself. As the repair to the door progressed, she started to prepare dinner for them. The food would help to sober him, and the strain of therapy always stimulated her appetite. She hobbled around, gathering ingredients, pulling out dishes. Interestingly, she noted that whenever she moved from one spot to the next, she attracted Booth's attention, and he would watch her closely, his face an inscrutable mask. She debated asking him what was wrong, but decided against it. It was most likely all the alcohol he had imbibed. She rolled her eyes, sighing. She would never understand the appeal of organized sporting events. In the next moment, she jumped as he let loose with a vicious curse. She quickly looked at him, certain he'd amputated something.
"This lock was put on with nails! And they're only 1/2 inch! A ten-year old could've done a better job on this!" He flung the nails angrily on the floor. "Bones, who the hell handles security for this building?"
Rather nonplussed, she limped toward the door. "I don't know - that lock was here when I signed the lease. I was assured that the building was well-secured." She leaned back as he held the offending scraps of metal in front of her face.
"Well, it's not! This piece of shit wouldn't keep anybody out." Pissed, he tossed the ruined lock across the room, where it landed in the garbage with a satisfying thunk.
"You made that patently obvious last night." She stood behind him, arms crossed, watching him drill holes. "And here I thought it was just your abnormal strength." She paused, waiting for a reaction, and wasn't disappointed.
He swung around, hands on hips. "That just made it easier. That lock is still a piece of junk." He held up a large, solid-looking piece of hardware. "Two-inch screws - and I'm putting in a swing lock. They're stronger than chain locks." He turned back to the door, attaching the metal fixture with sharp twists of his hand. Bones watched as he worked, enjoying the play of muscles in his arms. Preparing dinner while he puttered around her apartment was strangely soothing – she had an image in her head, a picture of how it would be if every day was like this. To her surprise, it wasn't an entirely unpleasant scenario. Smiling inwardly, she went back to the kitchen to tend the meal. "Dinner should be ready soon – are you hungry?"
"You're cooking for me?" He tested the lock, found it to be solid, and shut the door. "Wow, thanks. What are we having?"
"Beef stew." He made an inarticulate, gravelly sound, and she turned to see him place a hand over his heart, a dazed look on his face. She laughed at the silly expression on his face. "Why do you look like that?"
"Beef stew?" He smiled, thrilled to eat a meal he didn't have to cook. He wandered over, sniffing the air conspicuously. "Man, Bones, I love beef stew! How'd you know?" He reached to grab a spoonful from the pot, but pulled quickly away as she swatted his hand. "C'mon, I'm starving!
She chuckled as she poured the mixture into two bowls. Sometimes he seemed like a bottomless pit. "I didn't know. I'm running out of groceries – I'll have to shop soon." Placing the bowls on a tray, she started to lift it, but Booth reached around her and plucked it from her hands.
"I got that, Bones. Wow, this really smells good!" They ate in easy silence, so comfortable with each other that she almost forgot his earlier strange behavior. Munching on a piece of carrot, she surreptitiously glanced at him as he began to wolf down his portion. She smiled. Good thing there's more in the pot. She always made extra when Booth was eating at her house.
Booth looked at her, speaking around a mouthful of stew. "Mmm, Bones, this is great – you know, you're really an excellent cook. You should make dinner for me more often." He grinned as she rolled her eyes. "What's in it?"
"Um…beef?" She met his aggrieved look with an innocent smile.
"I know that!" he huffed impatiently. "What else?"
"There's really not much in it, Booth. I'm out of nearly everything." She bent over her bowl, missing the quick flash of comprehension on his face.
Nonchalantly he spooned up more stew, careful not to look at her. "Make a list – tomorrow I'll pick up whatever you need."
She looked at him then, surprised by the stress in his voice. He avoided her scrutiny, eyes firmly fixed on his bowl – but he had that look on his face again, his expression carefully blank. She was not good at reading people – that was his area of expertise. But she'd learned a lot from him about picking up signals since they'd become partners. Something was clearly wrong, something he didn't want to discuss. "Thanks, Booth, but that's okay. I was planning on going tomorrow."
"No, really, I'll do it. I don't mind."
His tone was calm, bland even, and he offered up a casual smile. Yet she was sure something was bothering him. "What's wrong, Booth?" He didn't answer her, but picked at his dinner. Now she knew something was wrong. The day Seeley Booth didn't finish a meal – bad things were sure to happen on that day. "Booth, answer me…"
"Nothing's wrong, Bones. I'm just a little tired, that's all – had a little too much to drink. It's been a long day." He smiled again, but his face had a strained look to it that made her uneasy. "So – what are you gonna do with your Sunday? More work?" He started to fidget, and before she could say anything, popped up from the table, carrying his dish to the sink.
"You're changing the subject, Booth. Something's wrong – why won't you tell me?" She cleared the rest of the table, only to meet his disapproving stare as she filled her arms with bowls and dishes.
"I'll do that – why don't you rest for a while?" He tried to grab the armload, scowling when she stubbornly tightened her grip. "Will you let go, already, Bones? Go sit down."
"No – I want to know why you're upset – why won't you tell me?" He finally won the tug of war over the plates and dumped them unceremoniously on the counter. She was suddenly afraid he'd leave before she could stop him, before she could find out why he was upset, and moved quickly toward him, wincing in discomfort as her hip protested. He instinctively put out a hand to steady her, and she saw it – the expression so quick she almost missed it. Suddenly, everything was clear, his behavior made sense. He was distressed to see her in pain. Flooded with emotion, she gripped his hand tightly, refusing to let him pull free. "Booth, I'm sorry – I know you're worried about my injuries. But I'm really healing quite quickly – everything's okay."
"I know…" He freed his hands, shaking his head. "I'm fine, Bones, really." He glanced around, desperately searching for his jacket with the air of a man looking for a way out.
She knew he would avoid telling her if he could – not because he was afraid to talk about it, but because he would not want to burden her. She couldn't allow that to happen – they were partners, and partners helped each other. She gripped his hands tightly, forcing him to hold still. "Booth. Look at me, Booth." When he finally did, she continued resolutely. "I want to ask a favor of you."
He immediately softened, as she'd known he would. He could never refuse to help her. "Whatever you need, Bones, you know that. Just tell me."
She took a deep breath, hoping he would still agree once he understood what she wanted. "Will you tell me about Dulny? About what happened there – what happened to you?" He was reluctant; she could see it. His eyes had gone blank and unreadable again, so she hurried on. "I know my part of the story, but it would really help me if you told me about it – how you found me, everything."
"I don't know, Bones." He'd cut off his arm before he'd cause her more pain. She'd already been through enough – more than enough. He'd be damned if he'd add to her burden. He dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in spikes. "I don't want to upset you, make you remember again."
"I need this, Booth. You were right, what you said to me – I had to be open about it, be able to let it out. Remember, you said that to me once before, in Arlington?" She saw the quick flash of pain on his face and stepped closer, wanting to soothe. "Talking to you yesterday really did help – I feel much better, knowing that you know what happened. But I want you to tell me your side of things. Please – I really feel that it'll help me." Help both of us, she amended silently. He needed to talk about it, just as she had – she wanted to listen to him, just as he'd listened to her the previous night.
He retreated to the living room, and she trailed slowly behind, hoping she'd convinced him. Then she stared, shocked, as he sank to the couch and dropped his head into his hands. "Booth..." She was stunned. She'd only seen him this upset once, and that was when he'd revealed his past to her. He'd been hiding from the pain, just as much as she had. She was unsure how to approach him – in the past, her first instinct had always been to step away, but now her desire to give comfort overrode all else. In the end, she perched on the arm of the couch, waiting for him to speak. When he remained silent, she put her hand on his arm, nearly recoiling as she felt the tension radiating from him. "Please, Booth. You told me that it's important to be able to talk about these things. It's my turn to listen to you. Let me help you." For several moments, she was afraid he would refuse to share his thoughts. But finally he sat back, sighing heavily.
"When I first heard what happened, I was angry. No, I don't think angry is the right word for what I was. I was in a blinding rage – I would've flattened anyone that got in my way. I got to Dulny as fast as I could – however quick I was, it didn't feel nearly quick enough. I met my contact and headed toward your last known location. When I saw the building where you'd all been last, I wasn't angry anymore. I was terrified. They were dead – all of them. I was afraid I was too late. But you weren't there, so maybe you were okay. Based on information from the squints, I picked up your trail pretty quickly. Guess it helps to be working with the best lab rats in the country – they were really accurate. I followed it for a while, until…" He glanced at her, but she was listening calmly, so he continued. "I came across the body in the woods. It was pretty easy to see what had happened – but I didn't know if you were all right. There was nothing I could do but keep going. That rage I felt in the beginning? Didn't hold a candle to how I was feeling at that point. Luckily, I was able to use up some of the aggression during a couple of…altercations.
"I was so scared I wouldn't get to you in time, Bones. When I finally found you I was so grateful. I kept praying, knowing what a fighter you are. If you'd lasted that long, you could last just a little longer, and then everything would be okay." His head was bowed, his body taut as he remembered. Her heart ached for him, but she could think of nothing to say that would help. Hesitantly, she curled her arm around his shoulders, leaning against him, trying to comfort him as he'd comforted her. Without warning, his arms slid around her waist, and he once again pulled her onto his lap, into the circle of his arms, rocking slowly. She stroked his hair, rubbed the rigid muscles in his back. He was shuddering, clutching her tightly. She returned his embrace, hoping to ease his pain.
"This should never have happened. You were injured…I should've been there to stop it, to keep you safe." He pressed his face against her shoulder, drinking in her fresh, clean scent – knowing that however close he got, it would never be close enough. "I'd have ripped apart those fucking bastards that hurt you…"
She felt a wrenching tightness in her chest at his broken tone. "Booth, you did help me. I couldn't have done it without you - I wouldn't be here at all without you." She hoped she was saying the right thing, the thing that would make him feel better. He'd already borne so much pain in his life – she couldn't bear to be the cause of more suffering. "Don't do this to yourself."
He buried his head in the crook of her neck. "Don't ever leave, Temperance; please ...I couldn't bear it..."
His voice was harsh, betraying him, and she could understand, perhaps more than anyone else, the level of stress he was experiencing. She'd been so miserable herself, she hadn't even thought about what he'd been through. He was a protector – but he hadn't been able to protect her. And he'd had to kill again – she knew how much he detested having to kill. Hadn't he just mentioned the price again last night? Guilt speared through her - she should have known, should have realized that the ordeal had damaged them both. She kissed his forehead, offering up what comfort she could. Unconsciously she mimicked his actions from the night before, only knowing that they'd helped her when she was in need. "Shh, I'm not going anywhere. Seeley, it's alright, I'm right here." She pressed her lips to his forehead again. Then, led by an urge she couldn't quite quell, she placed her finger under his chin, tipping his head up as he'd done to her so many times in the past. Her heart overflowed when she saw the anguish in his eyes, and she leaned forward without hesitation.
Her lips touched his, gently, a feather-light touch. He stilled completely, looking at her with wonder as she deepened the kiss. It seemed as if the whole world stopped and was silent, waiting. Slowly, his lips began to move under hers, and his eyes closed. She surrendered everything she was to him, every thought, every emotion. She did not believe in God, or prayer, but silently, fervently, she wished for Seeley to find peace. For both of them to find peace.
He was drowning in her, in Temperance, and he was going under willingly. Her lips were soothing the ache in his chest, healing him when nothing else had worked. He had to be close to her, close enough to blot out all the worry and pain. Her lips left his, sliding to his neck to nuzzle gently, drawing a soft sigh from him. His eyes flashed open at the splash of moisture on his skin. "Don't cry, Temperance, please don't cry…" He sat back against the pillows, nudging her until she lifted her head. She was crying, but he knew the instant he saw her that the tears weren't from pain. They were from compassion. Compassion, borne of friendship. Borne of love. Their eyes met, held. Slowly, she moved closer until their foreheads were touching. Her hands drifted to his face, caressing him gently. They were in a world apart, a world where they alone existed.
