She fought the urge to lock the door behind her. Logically, she knew that she was safe--she was in Booth's bathroom, and he was only a few feet away, should she truly be in danger. She sighed and dropped the sheet, the warm cotton pooling around her feet as her legs were suddenly assaulted by the gust of cool air. Goosebumps spread the length of her calves and rose to her thighs, and she shivered, although she wasn't quite sure if it was due to the cold or the fear that still lingered inside of her. She reached forward and gripped the immaculate porcelain sink, taking a few deep breaths as she prepared to look into the mirror--the first and last time she'd do it for the entire day.

Her cheek looked slightly swollen; Infection, she thought bitterly as she reached to touch the mark and gauge its tenderness. Her fingers skimmed their way to the gash along her hairline, surprised that such a small cut could've bled as much as it had. She picked out a few pieces of dried blood from her tangled hair before resigning herself to the hottest shower known to man. She peeled off Booth's over-sized shirt, happy to realize she could once again undress herself after the previous night's embarrassment...

She frowned into the mirror, noticing the bruises along the lower part of her neck, and the larger ones on her arms and back. She lifted her arms slightly to find minimal bruising along her ribs and abdomen, and a particularly nasty bruise on her hip from when Gallagher had struck her with her own bat. She blinked rapidly to fight off the tears as the memories once again invaded her mind. She could still feel his lips on hers, his tongue and blood and spit in her mouth... She reached forward and opened his medicine cabinet, quickly finding a bottle of mouthwash. She took a long swig of the minty liquid and swirled it around with purpose. She was going to erase this from her mind, and from her life. All she had to do was stop thinking about it. Get distance from it, and analyze it all logically. She would be fine.

She spat the used wash into the basin and rinsed it away. She could feel grime coating her teeth, but she refused to use Booth's toothbrush--it seemed like an evasion she was not prepared to make. More intimate, somehow, than sharing his bed or wearing his clothes. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. Maybe, after the shower, she could ask him to take her to her apartment to get some clothes and her toothbrush... She shuddered at the thought of having to go back. Maybe she'd ask him to take her to the store so she could by a new toothbrush and some new clothes. Sighing, she stepped to the shower and turned on the faucet, watching as the hot water gradually grew hotter, the steam billowing off of the shining tub, bouncing off of the sparkling white ceramic tiles of the walls, curling outwards against the plastered ceiling. She stepped inside the cloud of steam, barely able to see the lower half of her body, let alone the edge of the tub. She felt the soles of her feet burn and smiled as she reached over and turned on the cold water. It was still hot enough to let more steam off, but it was no longer so hot it was turning her skin crimson--she turned the knob and jumped as the water pounded against her bruises, a million streams hitting her like needles. She took a few deep breaths and rotated, her back now taking the brunt of the attack. For a few minutes she stood completely still, Letting the water roll down her shoulders, gather in pools by her collar bone before rolling between her breasts and down her stomach, enjoying the thought that it was washing away the grime that had accumulated... taking away the feel of his hands on her, his lips on her, his tongue.

She reached for the bar of soap, smelling it. It was Irish Spring... she raised an eyebrow. She never really imagined Booth using that brand--though she'd never really thought about what soap he would use--it just didn't seem very Booth-like. She looked at it curiously, turning it over in her hands. This was his... something he used every morning. She wondered if he used a washcloth, or if he just rubbed the bar along his body. At the mental image, she felt her cheeks flush. 'Get a grip, Tempe.' she thought, working up a lather and running her hands over her face, neck and shoulders before rinsing off and lathering again, focusing on her arms and breasts, her stomach and back. Rinse and lather; she washed her bottom half, trying to forget the way she'd imagined him looking as he stood in his own shower, rubbing the pale green bar over his slick body--across his shoulders, down his chest, over his abdomen, down to his... She stood back up quickly. Too quickly. Suddenly the world was spinning, a mess of steam and shower curtain. She pressed her back against the shockingly cold tile, closing her eyes and taking careful breaths. Eyes still closed, she ran her fingers along the wall and found the hot water tap, turning it down and feeling the difference immediately. With the water now lukewarm at best, she eased herself beneath the stream, letting her body cool down. So much for the hottest shower known to man...

She opened her eyes to search for his shampoo. Not that it was hard to find--he had just 5 items in the shower; Irish Spring, a pair of bottles with labels peeled that she guessed contained some embarrassing brand of shampoo and conditioner that he didn't want anyone to know he used, and vO5 shampoo and conditioner. She grabbed the VO5 and worked the pinkish liquid between her hands before running them through her tresses vigorously. She visualized every drop of blood disappearing from her locks, every speck of dirt fading away in the suds as she stuck her head back beneath the stream until every drop of shampoo had vanished. She worked a small amount of the conditioner through her hair--just enough to make sure it wouldn't be too badly tangled.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and she jumped despite herself and her early remonstrations about her safety in Booth's bathroom. "Bones?"

She swallowed and rolled her eyes, her hand covering her now-pounding heart, "Yes, Booth?" She shouted over the rushing water.

"I uh..." he tried the handle and she held her breath, "Don't worry..." he waved his hand through the crack he'd created, "I won't come in. I called Angela, and she brought over some clothes for you. And a toothbrush. And your hairbrush..."

"Thanks..."

"I'll just leave them on the edge of the sink for you." He placed the neatly folded pile of clothes by the sink, placing the bag containing her brushes beside that. "Did you find the towels?"

She shook her head, "Oh. No. I didn't even look..." She blushed. "Where are they?"

He opened the door a bit more, "I won't look, Scout's Honor." He took a step inside, his hands over his eyes. She took a second to appreciate his muscular torso, since he couldn't see her stare.

"Were you a boy scout?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Nope." He walked halfway into the room and turned towards the door, dropping his hand from his face. She held her breath again, pressing herself against the tile and cursing him for choosing a clear curtain. He turned his head to his left and opened a cupboard, pulling out a large towel and stepping backwards a little. He kept his eyes to his left, and she kept her breath trapped in her lungs, afraid that if she breathed, he'd turn around and see her. Not that he hadn't seen pretty much all of it the night before. He seemed oblivious to her as he turned and place the towel on the bar attatched to the wall, easily within reach for her when she wanted to get out. "There you go. I'm making breakfast--How do you like your eggs?"

"Can you make them scrambled?"

He reached the door and turned to face her. She gasped, frantically trying to cover herself before noticing his eyes were closed. "Oh, I'm the king when it comes to scrambling..."

After he left, she imagined what he would've said if she'd replied 'I think you've just found your Queen, because all I seem to do around you is scramble...' She rolled her eyes. That was horridly corny. And it didn't make much sense. She chose to blame it on the nightmares and her improper sleep. She turned off the water and stretched carefully, trying not to increase the tenderness of her injuries by aggravating them with harsh pulls on her muscles and skin. She pulled the curtain open and ran the towel along her body before ringing out her hair and stepping out of the shower. She hissed as her feet touched the icy tiles. She scampered over to the sink and sifted through the articles Angela had brought for her--she found the socks and slipped them on gratefully before dressing in her favorite pair of dark grey yoga pants and pale pink tank top. She wrapped the towel around her head as she brushed her teeth and rinsed once more with mouth wash. Once she'd run through all of her now-altered routines, she stepped out of the bathroom.

She found him in the kitchen, his back to her as he flipped pancakes with a flick of his wrist, ignoring the spatula in favor of talent. "Thought you were making eggs..." she said with a grin.

He replaced the pan and turned to face her, "They're ready. Just making some side-dishes."

She took a seat at the table, "Since when are pancakes considered a side dish?"

He grinned and turned back to the stove. "Oh, since you're still making breakfast--where is the washing machine? I want to wash the towel and your sheet... maybe your t-shirt, too..."

"In the hall, behind the first door on your left... But you don't have to worry about that. I'll do it."

She rolled her eyes, "I'll be right back." She gathered the laundry she'd left scattered about the bathroom and unwrapped her hair from the towel, brushing it back into a bun at the base of her neck before adding the towel to the pile.

He was standing in front of the washing machine, arms folded defiantly across his chest. "I told you I'd do it."

She tightened her grip on the dirty laundry, "And I told you, I can take care of it."

"Actually, you didn't..."

She rolled her eyes and nudged him out of her way, "Whatever, Booth. Just let me do this."

He placed his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him, "Why does it matter?"

Her eyes welled, "I just need to do something, okay. I have to do something..."

He nodded and let her go past him. He stood in the doorway, just watching and listening. He could tell she was crying, and he ached for her--he tried not to let it show when she turned around. "Breakfast?"

She nodded and walked to him, stopping just a few inches before running into him, "Thanks, for everything."

He smiled, enjoying the way her eyes lit up when she returned the gesture. "Come here..." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her gently against him, breathing in her scent. She pulled back, reluctantly, giving him a larger smile than earlier. He paused, caught off guard. And in that instant, he did what he thought he would never do...

AN: sorry about the cliff... and the long wait between chapters! I've had a crazy past couple of months--19 credit hours will prevent you from posting... Hope you'll forgive me, and will read and review. Hope it's not awful:D

PS who else LOVED the Christmas Episode? swoon