Irrational feelings

BRENNAN

Objectively, this really turned out to be a terrible day at work. Ever since she had left Booth' car she couldn't stop thinking when she would see him again – or even worse – whether she would see him again at all. The truth was, she missed him, missed him terribly. She wished this had been just another of their regular cases and imagined how he would come by to pick her up to interview another suspect...

Only 90 minutes of her working day had passed so far. Her thoughts revolved constantly around what Booth was doing at that moment, whether he had gotten any new information about Broadsky's whereabouts – and whether that new information would mean for him to have to go after Broadsky right away. She knew, he would call her before he went after Broadsky. Over the years his way of working on a case had become so entangled with her work and so dependent on the work of the squints that most often he would inform 'his' squints before even passing the information to the FBI itself.

Still, today she feared for that one call to come – that he would finally set off to go after Broadsky.

God, she did not understand it – how could people seek to be in love with someone, when being in love brought up all those thoughts and fears to loose the beloved person? Being on her own, depending only on her own – at least it meant that no one could leave her, that she would not loose another person again.

But then last night – in his arms – her own concept had felt shallow against the wish to be loved, the desire not to be alone any longer. To be loved by HIM.

And it had been amazing. Without a doubt sleeping with Booth had been extremely satisfying in the physical aspect. Booth had an amazing body and he knew well how to use it. He appeared to be a skilled lover.

The intensity of their lovemaking had amazed her. There definitively had been something beyond the mere physical aspect, something more, something deeper, something that she had never felt before. Since she did not recall having had any similar previous experience she could only presume that it had something to do with having strong feelings of affection towards the other person. She believed she had experienced what people commonly refered to as 'having butterflies in the stomach'. Scientifically, of course, it was impossible for butterflies to survive in the stomach. But she now was able to understand the concept behind it and why people would describe it this way.

She wondered whether Booth had felt the same. When Booth had told her during their sexual intercourse this morning that he loved her she had responded that she loved him, too, – which of course had not been entirely a lie. For now she knew she was definitely in love with him. However, she was still unclear about the exact difference between 'being in love' with someone and actually loving someone. Perhaps she even already loved Booth which she understood to be a state beyond merely 'being in love'. Perhaps she did but due to lack of experience she was unaware that she did. God, this all turned out to be more complex than she had thought. Perhaps she should consult Angela for further advice?

But Angela had gone over to Hodgins' office to help him determine what Broadsky had taken from Matt Leishenger's wallet. The case, of course, had top priority. Dr. Saroyan was busy with the paperwork to have Vincent's body released for repatriation to his home country.

Vincent. Poor Vincent was dead. She sighed, forcing out of her mind the picture from the day before of Vincent lying in puddle of his own blood. No, she would not cry again. Not today, not here. She had work to do. But she feared she would not be able to concentrate very well today.

Her mobile vibrated and she opened it. Booth had sent her a text message, asking her how she was and that he would be meeting with Matt Leishenger's boss in the hope of getting any new clue about Broadsky's whereabouts.

Just like any other day, just like any other case, she thought. But then fear suddenly choked her.

She was angry. What was the point of telling someone in the morning that you loved them when you would loose them again on the same day? Loving someone – viewed in broad daylight – was a stupid stupid idea. Why had she thought it would be different this time? Every person she'd ever loved in her life had left her. Oh God, she did not want Booth to die. She did not want him to leave.

She searched for the water bottle in her desk. She tried to calm herself down, tried to breath evenly.

She told to herself that everything would turn out to be just fine. That Booth would be careful. That objectively, Booth even had an advantage over Broadsky as long as Broadsky believed him to be dead. But then - all it took was one bullet – one damn bullet and... No, no, no!

She decided that she could not sit around any longer in her office and simply wait for the inevitable call to come. She knew Booth would wait for her to text back. But she couldn't text Booth she was fine. Not yet.

What she could do was help him. She would do anything in her power to increase Booth' advantage over Broadsky. She would do what she knew best – have Matt Leishenger's bones speak to her.

Looking at the cleaned bones she fought hard not to cry realizing that cleaning the bones had been one of the last things Vincent had done before was murdered. Only two hours later he had been dead.

With a heavy sigh she took up Matt Leishenger's skull to have another look at it. Maybe yesterday she had missed something in the bruises that Broadsky had inflicted on Leishenger that could be valuable information to lead Booth to Broadsky. She fetched the microscope and methodically slowly scanned not only the skull but also bone for bone again. However the bruises on Leishenger's skull appeared most intriguing to her. Something seemed weird about them, she just couldn't tell what, couldn't tell yet.

Angela came by snacking on some crackers which she obviously considered to be healthy for her unborn child. She offered her to have some, too.

But she was busy looking at Leishenger's skull. A new thought with regard to the combat methods used by Broadsky in the attack on Leishenger had just dawned to her. She told Angela about it.

Angela soon went away seeing her deep in thoughts brooding over the bones.

The thought about Broadsky's combat methods which had seemed so fruitful to her in the first place soon turned out to be a dead end. She just could not grasp what Matt Leishenger's skull was supposed to tell her, some connection seemed to be missing, or she just didn't make it and therefore the skull did not reveal any new findings to her. She was frustrated. She hoped her lack of concentration was only temporary and due only to lack of sleep and her underlying concern for Booth' life.

Booth. She had forgotten to answer to his text message. She... Wait, there was an unusual pattern in one of the bruises on the bone. What could have caused that?

Angela came back in and asked her if she was trying to get Matt Leishenger's skull to talk to her. Of course, it wouldn't. Leishenger was dead. It then deemed her that Angela had meant it as a joke, 'to lighten the mood' – as Angela put it.

But she couldn't be cheerful. Not when she couldn't figure out the clues in the bones. Not while Broadsky was still out there and Booth had to put his life on the line to get Broadsky. She had to keep working. For Booth. And for Vincent.

"The mastoid process is generally no a target in close-quarter combat. Perhaps I should examine it microscopically." She said to Angela.

"You told me that an hour ago." Angela said. "What is going on? ...I mean, is this about Vincent?"

She was confused. Of course it was about Vincent. Broadsky had killed Vincent. "Yes." But Vincent was dead. And Booth wasn't. Now, it was about saving Booth. "And..." She continued and almost smiled. She had to tell Angela, she need to tell someone. "...I got into bed with Booth last night."

Angela looked at her astonished, all words seemed to fail her.

Had she done the wrong thing telling her? Did Angela disapprove of her and Booth finally sleeping with each other? She lost her countenance. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Thankfully Angela did not disapprove, even though she pointed out that it was strange that she had gotten into bed with Booth only that shortly after Vincent's death. Angela's inquiring mind then started running. "Wait – what exactly happened after you..., after you crawled into bed with Booth?"

She remembered how she and Booth had slept with each other and smiled. She took a second to contemplate where exactly she should begin.

Hodgins came into the room talking excitedly about the mass spectrometer results from the bullet that had killed Vincent. Before he could tell them his exciting news Angela started to yell at him to go away, to tell Cam about it instead, to go away at once.

Brennan felt sorry for him seeing his confusion and the disappointment on Hodgins face but Angela wouldn't stop yelling until he had left the room again and was out of earshot. Only then Angela turned to her again.

"Now. Tell me – EVERYTHING! Do not spare me any detail..." Angela commanded.

She smiled again. Of course Angela would demand to know all the details. "Well, at first I slept on the couch and he slept on the bed..."

"Hmph! He should have offered you to sleep in the bed!" Angela interrupted.

"But he did!" She replied. "I told him I was smaller, therefore I would fit on the couch much better." She smiled remembering how they had said goodnight to each other. She was glad that later she had come to him. That he had held her in his arms. That they both had agreed to sleep with each other. That finally they had set things off to happen.

"And...?" Angela said impatiently. "So how did you end up in Booth' bed then? And what exactly happened in bed? Details, I need details!"

"I was upset about Vincent's death. About what he had said to me just before he died." She continued. "So I went to Booth. To ask Booth how Vincent had meant what he'd said."

"In the middle of the night? Wow!"

A member of the research staff passed by the entrance of the bone room and Angela almost yelled at him, too, to go away. "So you two talked about Vincent...? Let me get this straight – you were in the same bed with the most gorgeous FBI agent between here and Honolulu – and you talked about Vincent?"

"At first, yes. But then I was so sad, so I asked if I could stay and we lay down and he put his arm around me."

"Wow." Angela said again. "Sweety, I..." But then she stopped. "Wait a minute – did you actually sleep with Booth then?"

She smiled remembering how she and Booth had had sex. Twice. "Yes." She finally said, realizing that Angela was about to burst with curiosity. Surely that could not be good for Angela's unborn child.

"Whoa, wow. So how was it...? And how did you get from crying over Vincent to sleeping with Booth?"

She wondered how much detail she was supposed to give. Surely Angela did not expect a full description of her and Booth' sexual activities last night, or did she? "It was... amazing. He's a very skilled lover."

"I can imagine that!" Angela chipped in. "Oh Sweety, I'm so happy for you and Booth!" Angela embraced her. "Tell me, that's not it. Tell me you're going to have fabulous sex with Booth again!"

"I already had. This morning." She smiled, still being embraced by Angela. "...That's why I was late this morning."

"Oh my God!" Angela let her free. To look at her. "You were late because Booth couldn't take his hands off of you! Wow, …wow!"

"Actually it was the two of us – I couldn't keep my hands off of Booth either." She chuckled.

"I can totally believe that!" Angela said, stretching her back to relieve the weight from her by now rather enormous belly.

"Do you wanna sit down Angela? ...I can't figure out what is weird with this skull anyway. We can go to my office." While they went over Brennan remembered that she still hadn't answered to Booth' text message. Maybe she should call him – but deep down inside she was just too afraid, afraid that he would tell her that he had to leave and that she would be in tears – or worse, that she would beg him not to go – she was afraid to distract him from what he had to do.

"So, you and Booth, it is set to be a permanent thing now...? You surely wanna go back to have more amazing sex with that man! This cannot have been a one-night-stand!" Angela dropped herself on her sofa as gentle as she could with her now 8-months pregnant body.

She checked her mobile on her desk. No more messages or phone calls. She assumed Booth was busy, too. "Booth says he couldn't do that." She finally replied to Angela's question. Had it been a question?

"What!" Angela exclaimed. "He can't have a relationship with you? I don't get it!"

"No, I mean, he can't make love to me without falling in love with me again – that's what he said." Her cell phone beeped and her heart sunk into her boots. It was Booth.

"Again...?" She heard Angela ask her surprised, but she gulped down the fear and answered her phone. "Booth...," she said. Then her voice cracked.

"I'm at the port in Wilmington. A guard spotted Broadsky entering the port an hour ago." Booth was breathing heavily, she could tell he was moving fast while talking to her.

She felt paralyzed, unable to say anything, He was already there, already on the hunt after Broadsky. "Are you there...?" Booth asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Yes," she said, "I..., I...," she stammered. "Be careful!" She finally said before her voice broke again.

"I will." He said. Feeling her fear he added, "I won't take any risks, ok?"

"Okay," she managed to say seeing that Angela watched her closely.

"I gotta go." Booth said. "I love you."

For the split of a second she contemplated whether she should tell it to him, too. Angela was in the room, and it still felt awkward. But then she thought that it could be the last time they would ever talk to each other. "I love you, too." She said quickly, hoping that he had still gotten that last part before he had hung up.

Angela met her with a huge smile on her face. "Oh Sweety!" She heaved herself up from couch and rubbed her strained carpal bones that obviously weren't used to lifting that much weight.

A thought struck her. The skull, of course, the injuries on Matt Leishenger's skull... Broadsky must have caused them with his bare hands!

Without any further word to Angela she hastened back into the bone room to have another look at Leishenger's skull. It all made sense now.

"Hodgins!" She shouted. "Hodgins!"

Hodgins was there in under 10 seconds. "I seem to be everybody's favorite person to yell at today."

She ignored his complaint. "Hodgins, I know now why we did not find any particulates in the bruises on Matt Leishenger's skull." She took up the skull and held it upside down so that Hodgins could see the discolorations on the mastoid process. "Broadsky did not use any weapon, he struck Leishenger's head with his bare fist." She added.

"What?" Hodgins said rather disbelieving while he stared at the skull. "I do not believe that is possible. The bone is too thick to leave such an impression. The force one would have to administer..." She saw him quickly calculating in his head. "The force... it would..., it would break one's hand."

"Broadsky struck Leishenger with his right hand." She continued. "According to Booth he's a right hand shooter." She said as calmly as she could.

"Oh my God! You think Broadsky has broken his hand when he hit Leishenger. He can't aim with a broken hand!" Hodgins almost shouted in excitement.

"He killed Vincent aiming from that crane – hundreds of meters away..." She objected.

"Yeah – but, up there he had time to set it all up. He probably took a stand to adjust the riffle. Now – if Booth gets him unprepared... We should tell Booth!" Hodgins said still excited.

"Booth is already chasing after Broadsky. A guard spotted Broadsky an hour ago at the port in Wilmington." She shivered while she said it.

"But we should tell Booth anyway! This might save his life!" Hodgins insisted.

She called Booth. He took the call but then there was no answer. "He's there but he's not answering," she said to Hodgins unsure what to do.

"Maybe he can't." Hodgins replied.

Hodgins then took over the phone and he and Booth agreed on communicating by Booth clicking with his riffle once for 'yes' and twice for 'no'. In few words Hodgins and her told Booth about their theory that Broadsky had broken his right hand. The call then got disconnected, whether by Booth himself or by something else she couldn't say. And she didn't want to think about it. All they could do now was wait. Wait – and hope Booth would get Broadsky before Broadsky got any chance to kill Booth.

They were all there, waiting, upstairs in the sitting area on the gallery. Even Sweets had come over to the Jeffersonian to wait for any news from Booth.

At first she refused to sit with them all. Declined Angela's kind offer to have a tea with them to calm down her agony. But after a while she just could not sit alone in her office anymore and stare at the mobile phone that wouldn't ring. Why didn't he call? What if something had gone wrong? What if he was hurt lying somewhere and she wasn't there to help him? After all she was still his partner and she should be out there with him, and not just waiting here with the squints.

In the end she made her way up to the gallery and accepted a cup of tea from Cam.

When the call finally came she grabbed the phone and answered it at once. For the split of a second she was disappointed that it wasn't Booth but another agent from the Bureau calling her. A female agent told her that Booth had gotten Broadsky. That he had had to shoot a tenacious Broadsky in order to get him, but that it had only been a shot into the leg and now Booth had gone with Broadsky to make sure Broadsky would be taken into custody and would be locked away forever.

Everybody in the room cheered after she'd told them that Booth had gotten Broadsky. Angela smiled at her knowing about the magnitude of her relief that Booth was save.

Cam shortly afterwards got a phone call informing her that Vincent's body had been released by the authorities and could be repatriated to his home country now. Remembering what had happened to Vincent drowned their cheerful mood. Once more they sat together, saddened that they had lost one of their own until Sweets suggested for them all to meet in the evening to have a little wake for Vincent before his body would finally be sent home.

She did not understand what difference it made for Vincent whether they would all meet to mourn him or if they wouldn't. Vincent was dead, therefore he did not care anymore. She suspected there was some kind of social aspect involved for people to met up to mourn collectively.

Later, on her way back to the Jeffersonian she was confused whether she was supposed to bring flowers to a wake or not. It was to late to ask Angela about it. She passed by at a flower shop and bought a hydrangea. She found it reminded her of Britain – and Vincent had been very British.

Her heart leaped when she saw Booth standing with the rest of the group just outside of the Jeffersonian. She had not seen him since this morning, had been so frightened for his life in the meantime. Now he was standing there, alive, handsome in his coat, shirt and tie. She felt the desire to kiss him again, but of course she wouldn't do that in front of everybody else. So they both just exchanged looks, both knowing that they wanted to continue what had begun between them last night.

When everybody else finally went inside she linked her arm with Booth'. For some reason he looked sad to her. But when she led him inside a hint of a smile was on his face. Also for her it felt good to be with him, to be close to him. They sat the closest together as they could without raising anyone's suspicion. Neither of them both felt the desire to make the new status of their relationship known to the public yet. It was too new, too precious yet – and she remembered Booth once saying that what went on between them belonged only to the two of them. Now, after what had happened between them the previous night – this was even more crucial.

She yawned. She had slept very little and longed for a bath and the coziness of her bed. Also she still had to review a couple of scientific essays. Maybe she could still manage a couple of pages before bed if she left now...

She got up. Felt her arm brush against Booth' arm. They all looked up at her. "I am sorry," she said. "I'm really tired..."

"I'll drive you home." Booth immediately offered and was about to get up.

"No, Booth," she said, "I'm here with my own car." And because she felt that it had sounded too harsh she then added a "Thank you."

He looked sad. "Oh," he said, "well – then I..." Booth seemed lost for words. He did not finish the sentence.

Angela looked at her with a frown. She did not understand it, had she done something wrong?

Booth got up. "You're right. Last night has been a rather short night. Let me walk you to your car."

They both left the Jeffersonian in silence. As soon as they were out of earshot he took her arm, turned her towards him. "I thought we were going to spend this night together, too..." He sounded disappointed. "Has something come up today – you've changed your mind about us?"

"I haven't changed my mind about us." Her hand came up and she gently touched his cheek. She checked that they were alone, then left a short peck on his lips. "But I have a couple of things to do at my apartment." She added and took out her car key.

He still looked confused. Watched her open the door of her car and get in. He remained standing in her door though, held it open. "Can I come over to your apartment then?" He asked.

"Yes. Yes, of course." She said and after a pause, "...we could order some Chinese?"

This time it was him who looked around if they were alone. Then he kissed her, a full kiss, not just a little peck like hers. "I wanna order something else..." He said and kissed her once again. "This – was not a rain check on it, not even close to it." He smiled. Then he let her go.

Three quarters of an hour later she dove into the pool and let the soothing warmth of the water relax her tired muscles. Oh, this felt really good! She had wanted to take a bath but then had decided she rather prefered a swim in the pool instead. She looked over the smooth surface of the water in front of her and even though she felt exhausted from the past two days she decided to complete a few rounds before Booth would be here.

Booth – thinking of him made her heart beat faster. There was Booth in her life now. And he would be here soon.

Damn. She suddenly remembered that she hadn't told him yet she was down at the pool. With a heavy sigh she returned to the edge of the pool, quickly climbed up the ladder, found her mobile on her towel, and texted him that she was down at the pool and not in her apartment. He would find her here. He still had the keys that she's given to him two years ago. Lately, however, he hadn't visited the pool with Parker anymore. Maybe that would change again – now that they were... Well, what exactly were they now? Lovers? Partners? Best friends? ...And what exactly was she to Parker now? Now, that she and Booth had decided to engage in a real relationship. They would have to tell Parker. Not right now, but soon. How would Parker take it? She had always been on good terms with Parker but now she frowned thinking about it. She would ask Booth. He would know what to do, would know what to say. He was good with these things. She wasn't.

Booth. Smoothly she dove into the water again and smiled to herself as she remembered last night. They had slept with each other, had 'made love' as he called it. God, it had been great sex. And then they had had sex once more in the morning. He had aroused her so much with his skillful kisses that she hadn't been able to resist.

He would come to her tonight. She had no doubt they would have great sex again – lots of it. And tonight without any fear, without any threat to loose the other again, without any rush – now that Broadsky was caught and did not pose any danger anymore.

She shivered remembering Broadsky could have had killed Booth today. God, she had been so frightened to loose him. Thinking about it still made her sick.

Booth in turn had been concerned for her life, too. At first, she had not understood it. And they almost had had a fight about it. Because she had considered his concern to be irrational – his fear that Broadsky would come after her, too.

It was simple logic. The evidence was that Broadsky had tried to kill Booth. But in no way Broadsky could have been aware that he actually had missed Booth and had killed Vincent instead. Now, while Broadsky had presumed that Booth was dead he had had no reason anymore to come after anybody else of the team. Booth was the only one of them capable to stop Broadsky.

She had told Booth so. Still, he had outrightly refused to let her go back to her apartment alone when she had said that she needed to go there to get changed for the new day. She had found his fear irrational and without any reasonable foundation. They both had been late for work already due to their extracurricular lovemaking in the morning. Yet, nevertheless he had insisted to drive her over to her apartment. Then had insisted to enter every room before her, thoroughly checking up every corner of her apartment to make sure Broadsky wasn't there before he had allowed her to go in. She had told him that it hadn't been necessary. And she had been right that Broadsky hadn't been there. Unnerved she had told Booth that she would be very well capable of taking care of herself on her own. He in turn had grumbled that she had no idea what she would be up against here and then had left her alone for her to change her clothes. She had found him then grumpily scanning through her CDs in the living room while he had waited for her to get finished.

She still could not explain it but suddenly she had felt remorseful. She had not wanted to fight with him, not on this day – with only so little time that they both might still have had left together. So she had gone over to him, had put her arms around him and had kissed him. At first surprised he then had returned her kiss. Knowing what lay ahead for them on that day the kiss had become rather passionately and they had almost ended up having had sex again – in her living room. Then Booth' mobile had rung with new information on Broadsky which had brought them both back into reality. So he had dropped her off at the Jeffersonian, rather reluctantly though, kissing her for another full five minutes in the car before finally letting her go.

She could get used to starting every day with having sex, she thought. She hadn't slept with any man for quite some time. Not that there had been any shortage of men that wanted to have intercourse with her. She never had had any problem finding a man to spend the night with – no.

The difficulty appeared to be on her side, it appeared to be intellectual. Ever since that night at the Reflecting Pool when Booth had admitted for the first time that he had had feelings for her – something had changed. She could not explain it. She had turned him down then. Even now she was 100% sure that she had not been in love with him at that time, or at any time before returning from Maluku. Still, she had not slept with any man, had not found any enjoyment in picking up a man for just one night to satisfy the physical need. No wonder – that after more than two years of sexual abstinence – her body had responded to Booth' kisses, to him touching her like he had last night, like he had done again this morning.

God, he probably was right, her hormones were all up and if they continued to have sex at that rate she probably would end up being pregnant in no time. She still wanted to have a child, still longed to become a mother. Well, in order for that to happen she had to have unprotected sex with a man. All the better if that man was Booth. He was a great father. He was handsome, he was intelligent. Well, not as intelligent as she was, but still. All in all he had very pleasing qualities to pass on to their potential future child.

She wasn't on the pill. And they hadn't used any contraceptives. She assumed he was okay with it. He had not objected to unprotected sexual intercourse with her. Well, his Catholic religion of course banned the use of condoms. But then – his Catholic religion also forbade sex before marriage and he definitely did not adhere to that. Well, she would not get married, that she knew for sure. Not even if they indeed would manage to conceive a child.

A noise interrupted her wandering mind. She felt a touch on her shoulder and startled she turned around to fight her attacker. Jesus, the pool was deep enough to drown her, she thought.

"Bones!" She heard him say still fighting back like a wild animal. "Bones! It's me." As gently as he could he grabbed hold of her arms to keep her from hitting him, then he pulled her close.

She coughed. While fighting back in panic she had swallowed some water. "You startled me!" She said in protest as soon as she had recovered her breath.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" He murmured. "I thought you saw me coming in." He took her face in both his hands, then gently kissed her.

"No. I did not see you coming. I guess I was lost in thought."

"About me?" He teased.

She looked at him. "Yes." She finally admitted. "...Among other things."

"Good." He said. "I wanna continue where we left off this morning..." He kissed her neck, then every inch of her body above the surface of the water that her bikini did not cover. He let his hands wander over her body again.

"Booth." She whispered, fighting against her own desire to let him continue touching her. "Not here." She commanded.

"Why..., we're her all alone. ... I've been waiting all day to make love to you again..." He said and bent down to kiss her again. "You don't know how hard that's been..." He added hoarsely.

"The security cameras!" She said out of breath. "There are security cameras in this area... I don't want anybody watching us having intercourse." She whispered alarmed.

"Right." He sighed, then halted kissing her. "We better go upstairs then? I wanna make up for the last 14 hours – and I can't wait to start..."