A/N: I felt like writing this was a therapy session. Minus the awkward staring and asinine questions from the person sitting across from me. Oh, and minus the person too.

Desperation

It never feels good after it happens. You never feel victoriously satisfied like you thought you would have moments before it happens. Don't get me wrong, it feels absolutely positively wondrous while the words are actually being spat from your angry mouth, fueled by pure, unadulterated anger. But when they're finally out there, those words, and they penetrate the mind and heart of both you and your intended victim, it stings. The shots you fired actually do a complete turn around and aim themselves right and you. And they hit. And they sting.

That alone is crushing. Just dealing with the aftermath, no matter the person on the other end is difficult. But add Booth's eyes. His brown depths that are a clear and direct window to his very soul, searching for some hint of truth in the lies that I was spewing his way like an unruly toddler throwing a temper tantrum, riddled with curses because I assumed, because I misunderstood– and he can't see it. He can't find any truth. He's trying. He's trying to find a line to hook himself too but I give him nothing. He looked as though the words that he was hearing were words that I actually meant. And it didn't even take more than a few pathetic seconds once I was finished with my rant that I wanted nothing more than for him to just know that I wasn't talking rationally. What I had just said I didn't mean. That I do love him. I do want to be with him for the rest of my life. I wasn't just with him out of I had in fact, never felt this way before. That the last eight weeks have meant more to me than anything else I've ever experience in my entire life. That if I would have known been shown, before I was born, the sad, confusing, lonely, horrific, troubled, dark adolescence I'd have, I'd would have chosen to go through it anyway if it meant that at the end of that dark tunnel I'd meet Booth. That someone of his character would fall in love with me and I'd fall in love with him and one day we'd actually be together – I'd chose every time to go through it all.

But, he didn't know that. He couldn't see that. And so he just stood there. And started at me. And I could have said something. I could have told him that I was sorry and that I didn't mean any of it, that I was foolish and I could have kissed him like I was dying and his mouth life itself….

Yet, I didn't. I couldn't. I could only breathe. Stand there and breathe and watch his eyes, his eyes that flashed with hurt and confusion – I was transfixed. You see, it doesn't matter – whether he's happy, playful, aroused, angry, confused, or hurt, it doesn't matter. I'm transfixed. When his heavy gaze falls to me and he not only looks at me but searches me. I can't bear to speak. I can barely move.

But he moved. He moved right by me. He walked away without saying a single word. And there I was, left standing alone in my kitchen. Alone in my thoughts. For several minutes, I couldn't even move from where I was standing. I could only blink slowly, each time my eyes would close I would pray to a God that I never believed in that he would be there again. But he wasn't. He didn't come back.

The next two days of my life were without a case and without Booth. He didn't stop by. He didn't call me. He didn't text me. And I didn't reach out to him. He was the one that told me he would always love me. He was the one who said he'd never leave me. He was the one that said there was nothing I could do to ruin what we had together. And yet here it is my first mistake. My first huge fuck up and he's gone. So let Booth come to me when he wants to talk. Let him make good on his confidence and promises. I was the one who told him this would happen. I warned him of this.

And there it is. It's those selfish feelings that make me feel even worse about the entire situation. It's been three days and now on this fourth night I'm trying desperately to evict Booth from my thoughts. I hear his voice in my head, feel his breath on my neck, and feel his weight on my hips. My mind and body berate me for my stubbornness and scorn me for my pride. How long will it be before he comes back to me? How long will I have to suffer? There's no way he would walk away forever I know that for certain. There are few certainties in this life. Examples; gravity, change, death, Booth….

Lying in bed I hear my front click open and then it's pushed shut gently. I'm out of my thoughts and alert as my heart pounds, but I am not fearful, no, I'm thankful. I hear him put something down on my end table that stands next to the front door. And very soon after that he is making his way down my hallway and closer to where I am. My bedroom. My back is towards my door so I can only hear and feel his presence when he finally enters. God he feels like a force of nature, it's unreal, it's a wildly illogical thought but I actually feel him pulling me even though I'm not physically moving at all. But something is, something inside me is moving and I know it to be true. I hear some shuffling followed by the faint sound of metal clinking followed by something soft hitting my floor. I feel the bed sink as weight spreads across the opposite side of me. And then…. nothing.

I squeeze my eyes shut because for some damn reason hot tears begin to spring forth and I can't control them. I absolutely cannot control them. I don't deserve this man. I don't deserve this love. I don't deserve him to be here with me after all the things I said. Why do we hurt the people we love? Why do we say things that we don't mean? Booth would know, he'll tell me in the morning. And if he doesn't know, he'll simply tell me that he doesn't and it won't bother him that he doesn't. And then it will no longer bother me.

I feel him shift closer to me and the first contact I feel from him is his arm coming around my waist. He pauses for just a brief moment before he pulls me back against himself, slowly, gently. I wipe my eyes and sniff. And I open my mouth to say something but then I immediately feel his fingers on my lips. He leaves them there for a long moment, before he drags them away, skimming my body until he gets to my arm and holds his hand there wrapping his fingers around me.

"Shhh..." he whispers to me as he nuzzles down into the space where my shoulder and neck meet. He rubs his chin against me like he's making up for all of the lost contact that we've missed. It's comforting. It's reassuring. It loving. Nothing sexual about it – up until the point when I feel his mouth open against the skin on my bare shoulder. The unexpected turn in mood takes me by surprise and I moan as though I'm on the brink already. Am I? He moves his hand down my arm and travels, unrushed, down my side, then my hip until he has his hand against the back of my thigh and he caresses it. His fingers tease and move back and forth against the sensitive skin so close to a path that leads to where I want him the most. He continues to kiss the back of my neck, just under my hair line. I try to arch back into him more, hoping to somehow gain more more more from doing it. Finally, with the angle that I manage, I'm able to look up into his eyes. "What the hell took you so long to come back to me?" I ask my voice husky with a deep unwavering want.

He takes my lips with his own and kisses me deeply and pulls away just as quickly. "I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot." His voice is so strained as he tries to keep his overwhelming thoughts and feelings from escaping him all at once.

I turn all the way on my back now and he moves to lay over me. His hand finds its place between my legs and he checks to see if I'm on the same page as he is. "Oh god Booth…." I don't say this… I whine it. I actually whine his name. "You're not an idiot," I rest my hands on either side of his face and guide him so that he looks directly at me, "I'm the one that's sorry, Booth. I'm sorry… I didn't mean it… I didn't mean any –"

He leans down and kisses me again, with even more force, more passion than before. He pulls away, but not without biting my bottom lip, not too hard, just enough to sting. A good kind of stinging. "I know, baby. I know you didn't. It doesn't mean that it didn't hurt. But I told you before; there is nothing you can do to change how I feel about you. There is nothing you can do to push me out of your life. I love you so goddamn much."

"I love you too, Booth."

He dips low and begins kissing my chest. The top of his head and his shoulders my view now, I marvel at him.

"Please, make love to me. Be with me. Be inside of me."

And he gives me what I want. He always did. But, this is more than something I wanted. It's something that we both needed. Our first time making love after a huge fight makes it almost seem worth it. Having sex with Booth has always been gloriously earth shattering. But, when you make love after a moment in your relationship when you questioned if that relationship would be the same after certain things were said and done, it's…different. It's better. There is a need to claim, a need to deeply express your sorrow for what occurred. There's a need to make it up to the person you hurt, who is still hurting. Tonight it's all about desperation. I am completely, unabashedly desperate for Booth.

Uh, yeah.. I'm pretty desperate for some Booth time too… am I right, ladies? And or gentlemen? He's loved by all!