IV.
He awoke in the late hours of evening, blinking several times against the early twilight. There was something important that bothered him, but Booth couldn't really put his finger on it. Rolling around, he buried his face in the second pillow, smelling... her... Bones. Snow. Fire. Brown hair on his pillow, her voice in the darkness. His arms full of her warmth.
Of course, she was the important thing. When had she not been? Suddenly, his heart felt very heavy, and he had to get away from the sheets that smelled like her, from the bed that had cradled her. Besides, maybe she had only left his bed but not his apartment.
"Bones?"
No answer. Not even a cup of coffee. However, his dryer was empty. She was gone.
Slumping down on his couch, he rubbed his face with his palms. Whoa, he should really shave, Booth realized. So, she was gone... That wasn't really out of character, but, still, he wished she hadn't left. He wished that two nights could make a difference, could make things right and whole again. At least, holding her had felt like this for him. And he had hoped so much, had almost been sure that for her as well, but then again, maybe he had been wrong about that... Maybe she was too much herself; maybe his fake death had crushed more of her faith in him than he had been aware of, maybe...
With a long sigh, he grabbed his cell, hitting speed dial. She answered on the second ring.
"Brennan."
"You promised to be here."
Shit, that came out more pathetic than intended.
"If I recall correctly, I said I couldn't open your dryer. Then you provided me with the information."
"And it was the logical thing to leave, I get it."
"Open your door."
"What?"
"Open your door."
With a puzzled expression on his face, Booth heaved himself out of the couch and padded towards the door, and... there she was, clad in a teddy-bear-like parka, balancing two mugs of coffee in one hand.
"The logical thing to do was getting coffee – by the way, yours is out of stock – and change into attire suitable for the task of building a snowman. I also purchased this."
Pushing the coffee mugs into his hands, she pulled a carrot out of her pocket.
"Research shows that carrots are commonly used as noses for snowmen. Why... why are you looking at me like that?"
He tried to close his mouth and opened it again.
Tilting her head, she ogled him curiously. Blue eyes, brown hair under a red woolen hat, rosy cheeks. Beautiful and gorgeous and brilliant and just a little bit funny.
"What?"
"You are truly extraordinary," he finally managed to say, and she just shrugged.
"I know."
Finally stepping into his apartment, she noticed the tousled hair and his state of dress for the first time. He looked exactly like he had when she had crawled out of his arms two hours earlier, only more awake, and, just like then, something inside of her moved at the sight of him so undisguised.
"You just got up?"
A nod was her answer, while he took a sip of his coffee.
"You know... I thought you were gone."
"Well, I was gone."
She looked at him with wide and innocent eyes, and an involuntary smile spread out on his face. Some things would never change, and, suddenly, Booth found it oddly reassuring. Closing the distance to her in two long steps, he captured the teddy-bear that was his partner in a strong hug.
"Thanks for coming back with coffee and a carrot," he whispered.
His rough cheek scratched over the wool of her hat.
"Thanks for persuading me to stay," came her soft reply.
"Thanks for staying."
Tilting her head, she kissed his cheek quickly before stepping back, but her eyes were bright.
"I find that I'm quite excited about our snowman plans. When can we start?"
"Thirty minutes. I need a shower and something to eat first."
"Try twenty. I'll make breakfast."
She did make breakfast – or dinner, given the late hour – and when he went in search for his gloves twenty minutes later, Booth found out that this wasn't all she had made. Something inside of him fluttered, as he regarded the smooth covers, the neatly arranged pillows, and then she stepped beside him.
"You made my bed," he whispered.
"It was only fair since I slept in it as well."
Turning his head, he met her gaze, and it was a moment so intimate and new, but, still – still! – he was Booth and she was his Bones.
"No spot, only soft," he repeated his words from earlier that morning, and she leaned into his side, her head resting on his shoulder for a brief moment.
"Booth..."
"Sh, it's okay. I," he cleared his throat, "I found my gloves. Shall we go?"
"Most definitely."
They decided that the rose garden behind the Jeffersonian would be a perfect spot for a snowman, and in the gray light of a winter evening, he steered the car towards their direction. It had stopped snowing some time ago, but everything was covered by the white magic, bathing the world in an ethereal light. The radio was playing a soft tune, and he could almost taste the peace on his tongue. It was surreal, but oh so nice. Every once in a while, Booth risked a quick glance at his partner, and for someone with three doctorates, she looked oddly excited about the simple prospect of building a snowman.
And his heart opened.
-BONES-
"No, you have to roll it."
"Like this?"
The snowball crumbled between her eager hands, and she groaned in frustration.
"I'm doing it wrong."
"No, it's okay, Bones. Be gentle with the ball. Press the snow until it is firm, and then roll it. Just like this."
Their snowman already had a proud foundation, and now Booth was forming a second globe just as easily. Looking up from his work, he caught her frustrated expression, biting back a laugh. She was too cute when she was pouting like this.
"Come here."
Outstretching one hand, he pulled her in front of him until her back was pressed to his chest and all of their hands were rolling and pushing the ball through the thick snow.
"Now slap it."
"Slap it?"
"Yeah, it's too fluffy otherwise. Just, be gentle."
Removing his hands, he peeked over her shoulder to observe her work.
"That's it. Now roll some more."
"Okay, I think I understand it now."
His arms came around her again to help her with the rolling, and he caught a whiff of her winter scent. How could she possibly smell like cinnamon?
"There's nothing to understand, Bones. Listen, this is Mr. Snowman. He's already there, you just have to find him. Help him to come alive."
Her nose wrinkled – not that he could see it – and she stilled.
"That's ridiculous, Booth, he won't be alive."
"Sh... don't ruin it. Mr. Snowman here is very proud, and if you don't take him serious, he'll disappear. Crumble between your fingers."
Patting the round globe with his glove-glad palm, he measured the ball.
"Good size. You wanna lift it?"
"Sure."
"But don't forget, this is Mr. Snowman."
"Okay. Hello, uh, Mr. Snowman," she murmured while trying to get a grasp on the slippery ball. "Even though you don't possess a spine, you'll be erect in some moments. Just... whoa!"
She stumbled with the big ball in her hands, but he managed to catch her mid-fall, rescuing the snowman body part. In his arms, she was breathing heavily.
"This is heavier than excepted."
"Let me."
Taking the ball out of her arms and adding it to their snowman foundation happened in one swift move.
"Aha! See?"
"Indeed, very impressive."
"Now we need a head."
"A smaller ball?"
"Yes."
"I can do that."
"Go ahead, Bones, knock yourself out."
She didn't knock herself out, after all, she was Dr. Temperance Brennan and she had always possessed an irritatingly steep learning curve, and merely five minutes later, the head could be placed on top of their snowman.
"I did it!"
"You did it."
Turning around with bright eyes, she flung her arms around his neck, catching him utterly off guard.
"Bones!"
"Ah!"
Dumb eyes under snow-powdered hair, he was lying underneath her on the ground, and, not daring too move, she ogled him cautiously.
"Sorry. Did you hurt your back? The snow should have softened the- ah!"
He rolled her around in the blink of an eye until the snow was her bed and he was her... whatsoever.
"That was impressively fast," she uttered, and he tried to suppress a chuckle.
"Yeah, I know."
"Impressively cold as well."
"Move your legs, Bones."
"What?"
"Your legs. And your arms. We're making a snow angel."
"A snow angel?"
"Yes, just like this."
His glove-covered hands found hers, clasping them, and he moved her arms as if they were wings in the snow. Brave enough to lower his head, he buried it in her shoulder, moving his limbs with her... and once more they were burning in the snow. He could feel the softness of her curves beneath him, the warmth of her breath on his neck, the grip of her fingers through the material of their gloves. He could feel every inch of her, and even though one very strong part inside of him yelled that crushing her was not very gentleman-like, for the love of God, he couldn't move away.
Then neither of them was moving anymore, they were just lying in the snow, breathing, feeling... stunned and helpless.
Still wondering why lying in the damp snow could possibly feel that good, Booth sensed the movement of her head, and then her own cold cheek was brushing his face in an almost intimate caress.
"This is a snow angel?" she finally whispered, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.
Bracing himself on his forearms, he got up, brushing the cold flakes away from his clothes and offering her a hand.
"Yes. Come, I'll help you see it."
She was always heavier than expected, he realized, as he pulled her onto her feet, and then they were both studying the imprint in the snow, the angel that was both him and her.
"It looks like an angel," she accepted after a while, her voice as soft as the winter light.
"I know," he whispered beside her, feeling ridiculously moved. "And this," he cleared his throat while gesturing at the figure next to them, "this looks like a snowman. Wanna decorate it?"
She nodded, her bobble hat bobbing in the faint light.
"Time for the carrot?"
"Time for the carrot. And we need some stones for eyes and mouth. Take these."
"Oh..."
"Oh?"
"We forget to bring a scarf or a hat."
"It's okay, it doesn't have to be perfect."
"No, it does." Gnawing her lip, Brennan removed her own scarf and hat. "It doesn't make sense, but I believe Mr. Snowman deserves this."
Utterly touched, he watched how she dressed their snowman. And, suddenly, it was perfect.
"See?" she whispered, and, somehow, he didn't even know how, her hand ended up in his.
"Yes, I see. But now you'll be cold."
"No, it's okay."
Unwrapping his own scarf, he twisted it in his hands.
"It's not."
And a moment later it was wrapped around her neck, providing her with warmth and with the familiar comfort of his very own scent.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Uh... Bones?"
"Hm?"
"Truth or dare?"
"I don't know what that means."
"It's a game. You have to pick truth or dare."
"Okay. Dare."
"Make another snow angel."
"On my own?"
"Yep."
Her eyes sought an untouched spot of snow, and then she was letting herself fall with a laugh. Her arms and legs stirred up the snow and it was so child-like, so beautiful that his chest ached with sudden pain. Of course, her angel turned out to be flawless.
"Truth or dare, Booth?" she asked, dusting off the snow.
"Truth."
"When did you make your last snowman?"
"Last year with Parker. It only lasted three days before it melted, but we had tons of fun. Truth or dare, Bones?"
"Dare."
"Kiss the snowman."
"Why?"
"Because I said it."
Rolling her eyes, she approached their cold companion, pecking his icy cheek.
"Uh..." she shuddered, and he laughed.
"Dare."
"Catch me."
She had a head start, but his legs were longer, and soon their sprint through the snow ended with him grabbing her around her waist. Once again, they tumbled into the cold mass as a tangle of limbs and ice and laughter.
"Truth," she said after a moment of hesitation, looking up at him with clear eyes, and he blew the snow out of her face.
"How... how did you feel when I was dead?"
Her eyes clouded quicker than ever possible.
"Booth..."
"Please."
Turning her head, she avoided his gaze, and he rolled down from her to give her some space.
"I... They didn't let me see your body. I didn't want to accept it... Angela reconstructed your death for me. To make me believe..."
Out of the blue their former easy banter was all forgotten and darkness was weighing like a heavy cloud above their heads. Biting his lips, Booth wished he could take back the words.
"Bones..."
"It was too much... I couldn't. Just couldn't," she whispered. "And I didn't. Did nothing. It was just bleak and sharp and empty. All inside of me..."
Her tiny sob broke through the night, cut straight into his insides.
"You were gone, and I wasn't Bones anymore. Nothing was real."
"Oh, Bones..."
She sniffled.
"Truth or dare, Booth?"
"Dare."
"Hug me."
Then he was all around her, warm in the snow, alive in the cold. Stroking, caressing, soothing, his name for her falling into the winter night over and over again, his lips touching her hair, her brow, everything he could reach.
"I would have done worse without you," he finally said, his voice as raw as any voice ever spoken,
"Cam," she took a shuddered breath, trembling in his embrace, "Cam said something the other night. About mourning without ever having known. And maybe... maybe that's the saddest part."
"I am so, so sorry... If only I could turn back the hands... If only you could trust me again..."
His voice trailed off, and, blinking against the tears, she looked at him in surprise.
"I trust you. I always have and always will."
"Despite..."
"Yes. It's just... you've come into my world of reason and science, and I was content, I really was, but with your faith and your energy... your theories about love... you've messed it up and now... my world feels so empty without you. I don't wanna need you... but maybe I do."
"Oh Bones," he murmured, almost crushing her in his arms, but, still, she felt safe, so safe. "I need you, too, you know that, right?"
"This thing with one of us dying? We've tried it, it didn't work out so well. Let's not do that again, okay?"
"Deal," he answered, pressing his lips into her hair, and she inhaled a deep breath.
"Truth or dare, Booth?"
"Uh... it's my turn... but truth."
"Would you... kiss me?"
Her words were a tiny caress in the cold. As were his.
"Yes."
His lips followed his truth, slanting down on hers, warm and full and soft. Nibbling, caressing, giving, until she parted her mouth ever so slightly and his tongued slipped in. Could one kiss pain away? Seeley Booth didn't know it, but if it was possible, he wanted to do it; if it was possible, she wanted to accept it.
One kiss turned into another, turned into a flow of soft but deep kisses, the snowman their only witness, and he was cradling her in his arms as if she was the most important thing in this world. Just like she was. They were kissing until her metaphorical heart felt so full as if it might burst, until his breath was her breath and the snow around them almost melting.
"I forgive you," she finally whispered, freeing his soul from a burden he hadn't even know to its full extent, and he who never cried felt tears pricking behind his eyelids.
"Thank you," he rasped, squeezing his eyes shut while pressing her to his chest. "Thank you."
"Stay with me tonight," she said, and it was neither truth nor dare or maybe it was even both; regardless, he simply nodded.
"Yes."
He gathered her from the ground, their snowman standing proudly, almost smiling at his builders, and in a night that was both fire and snow, she took his hand to make him forgive and forget as well.
She was Temperance Brennan. But she had evolved.
To be continued...