Awareness arrived with a dull, throbbing ache in her hip and the gradual realization that she was lying on a hard surface with Booth's arms wrapped around her. His closeness should've alarmed her. Instead she found it reassuring.
Then she opened her eyes. Impenetrable darkness bore down on her, constricting her chest and jump-starting her pulse. Restless and uneasy, she sat up and felt around for the flashlight, her hands shaking as they fumbled over the rocks.
"Easy, Bones. It's okay. I'm right here."
It was what he always said. Easy, Bones. As if he was calming a skittish horse. She resented that, not because he said it, but because it meant she'd failed to conceal her fear.
"I'm fine. I just can't find the damned flashlight." She hated this, hated feeling jumpy and worried all the time. She wanted out of here. She'd be okay after that. She just. Wanted. Out.
When Booth finally turned the flashlight on its beam was frighteningly weak, no match for the skulking shadows. He held it out to her, releasing it to her too-desperate hand without comment. She knew what he was thinking, though. The weight of his concern was all but palpable. Grimly, she reminded herself that she didn't need it or him. She was fine on her own. Fine, damn it.
She stood up and brushed off her pants with fingers that still trembled, though she was feeling calmer now that they had some light.
"We should get going. These batteries aren't going to last much longer," she said, willing her voice steady. Not waiting for him to get up, she reached for the pack and shrugged into it, then bent to pick up the parang.
"Bones, wait."
"What?" She spun back, resenting the delay, but he only waved toward the makeshift oven she'd built the night before.
"The Sterno," he said, his voice giving little indication of his thoughts.
"Oh."
She dropped to her knees and reached for the can, then looked around for its lid.
"Here." He held it out to her.
"Thanks."
She fit it onto the can and tapped it into place with the handle of the parang, still aware of Booth's gaze but doing her best to ignore it. Then while she unzipped the pack and dropped the half-empty can inside he scattered the rocks she'd used to build the stove.
"Why are you doing that?" she asked, and swallowed when her voice came out high and tight.
"Because if anybody comes looking for us I want them to follow our original trail and not get sidetracked down here," he said. "There's no sense in making the rescue team's job any harder than it has to be."
She shook her head, speaking slowly, forcing a patience she didn't feel. "There isn't going to be any rescue, Booth."
She couldn't have said why she was so certain - maybe it was because of the number of aftershocks they'd felt or the amount of time they'd been wandering around down here - but it didn't really matter. The flashlights were almost done for. In a few hours they'd be reduced to feeling their way around on their hands and knees. And after that...
"We should get moving," she said.
"Right behind you, Bones."
They continued their careful progress through the tunnels, but now their steps were shadowed by rising desperation. They didn't stop for water, preferring to keep moving, and as the minutes passed and the flashlight beam grew dimmer and dimmer it became increasingly hard to focus. Three times she almost fell, and only Booth's steady hand kept her from twisting an ankle or worse. Sounds - the drip of water, the rattle of shifting gravel, even the scuff of their shoes against the stone - beat against her skull and made her want to press her hands against her ears. And every time Booth paused to mark their trail she chafed against the wait, her fingers drumming impatiently against her thighs or fidgeting with the straps of the survival pack until he was ready to move on again.
When the first flashlight finally went out she sank to the ground, trembling and covered in cold sweat. Fingers curled against the rock, she struggled to force air into a throat made thick with fear. Instantly Booth was beside her. He said something, but she couldn't make out the words, only the distant echo of his voice. And when he reached for her hand she struck out in blind panic. But he only caught her arm and pulled her body hard against his, still talking.
She couldn't have said how long it took for the trembling to ease, but eventually she became aware of the press of stone against her knees and the feel of his arms around her back. He was painting slow circles along her spine. Around ... and around ... and around. The consistency calmed her. The connection reassured her. She wasn't alone. She repeated that in her head like a mantra as she fought for control. She wasn't alone. Booth was with her. Booth. was. with. her.
Gradually her breathing slowed and the pounding in her ears subsided to a dull, aching throb, but she made no move to pull away from him. His voice continued to vibrate through his chest and into her ear, calm and soothing.
"I've got you," he said. "I've got you, baby. I'm here."
He smelled of dust and sweat and Booth. There was comfort in that, as well as in the fiercely protective way he held her. She sank into him, her arms finding their way around his back as she clung to his familiar strength.
"I'm okay," she finally managed through lips still dry with fear. "I just ... It's so dark."
"I know."
She felt the press of his lips against the top of her head and couldn't bring herself to object. His grip on her eased, and though he kept his hands on her shoulders she sensed him moving back, giving her space. She drew in a cautious breath and felt oxygen flow into her system. Then his hands were gone, too, but she still felt his presence, even in the darkness. She heard him doing something, and a moment later he reached for her arm, feeling his way down to her wrist. Instinctively, she tensed.
"What are you doing?"
His touch was gentle, but firm. He didn't let her go.
"Just trust me here, okay, Bones?"
She relaxed and let herself rest against him again, unsurprised when he took her weight without having to adjust his balance. She felt him fit something around her wrist.
"There," he said after a moment. "Now give me your other hand."
It was his watch. Its bulky weight pressed into her skin when he fastened it, and some of his body heat lingered in the leather band. She found it with her right hand, her fingers tracing its face in the darkness.
"Why are you giving me this?"
"Because of this," he said. And taking her right hand in his, he pressed her finger to one side of the face. It lit up, the blue LED startlingly bright in the fierce darkness. "It isn't enough to travel by," he went on, his fingers lingering over hers, "but maybe it'll help a little."
The thoughtful gesture brought tears to her eyes. She laced her fingers through his. "Thank you," she said.
He squeezed her hand. "You're welcome." There was a depth of emotion in his voice that she didn't dare examine too closely. For now it was enough that he was here. They stayed that way for a minute or two before Booth sniffed loudly. "God, what is that smell?"
She hadn't noticed it before, too caught up in her anxiety to pay much attention to their surroundings. But now she inhaled deeply, then exhaled on a surprised cough.
"Ammonia," she said, recognizing it instantly. And then ... "Wait." She thought back, frantically searching her memory for something Hodgins had once said. "Bats!"
"Bats." Booth's reaction was decidedly unenthusiastic.
Brennan yanked the pack from her shoulders and felt for the zipper, tugging until it gave way beneath her impatient fingers. "Bat guano has a high concentration of ammonia, and if there's a colony nearby ..."
"Then we're close to a way out," he said, following her train of thought.
"Maybe." She shoved the dead flashlight into the pack, then felt around until her fingers closed over their backup. It, too, was almost used up, but if they were lucky it would give them enough light to locate the colony. "Come on."
She didn't notice the darkness now, too caught up in following her nose to think much about where they were or how desperate their circumstances had become. Behind her, Booth scrambled to keep up, once even calling out to her to "for God's sake, Bones, slow down before you get us both killed!" But she ignored him, trusting to instinct and the burning in her nose and eyes for guidance.
All at once the tunnel they'd been in, tall enough to stand in but so narrow they had to scoot through it sideways, dumped them out into a cavern that just … felt big. The sound of their abrupt arrival bounced back at her from all sides, and she could neither touch the opposite wall nor find it with the weak beam of the flashlight. But when she shone the light at the floor she found it covered with droppings.
Booth stumbled to a stop behind her, one hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"
"Shh," she said, keeping her voice low. "We should do our best not to disturb them."
He moved up beside her, but didn't drop his hand. "I don't see anything."
"Ceiling's too high," she whispered. "Look down."
His quiet grunt of disgust brought a smile to her face. "Okay," he said, "so we found bats. Now what?"
"Now we find their front door."
"Front door?" He sounded amused. "Do you think they have a doorbell, too? Maybe even a welcome mat?"
But she was in too good a mood now to rise to his bait, so she just rolled her eyes and tilted her head. "There isn't enough light in here to see much, so we'll have to rely on our olfactory senses."
"Geez, Bones. Why not just say we have to sniff our way out?"
"Fine, then. We'll have to sniff our way out."
She ignored his chuckle and concentrated on trying to find a hint of fresh air beyond the acrid smell of ammonia. Her eyes watered, and her lungs burned, but she ignored that, too. She couldn't give up now. She wouldn't. Not when they were so close.
Then she smelled it. Faint, but clear. The first fresh air she'd inhaled in three days.
"There," she said, at the same time he said, "Got it."
She turned toward his voice, and she was pretty sure his smile was as wide as hers, even though she couldn't see it. They inched along the wall and around a bend, and just as the flashlight beam gave up its last she spied sunlight.
The opening was high, and barely large enough for them to squeeze through, but when she felt the moist island air on her face she took a deep, grateful breath.
"See?" Booth's voice at her side was soft but triumphant. "I told you we'd make it."
She glanced in his direction. "You couldn't have known this was here."
"There are different kinds of knowing, Bones."
The temptation to argue the point was strong, but her desire for freedom was stronger.
"How do we get up there?" she asked instead.
"Easy. I'll give you a boost."
"What about you?" She touched his arm. "I'm not leaving here without you, Booth. Not even to go for help."
His hand found hers, squeezed. "Let's get you out of here," he said. "Then see what happens, okay?"
"The rope," she said, remembering. "I can tie it to something and lower it down to you."
"There. See? Problem solved. Now come on." He tugged at her arm. "Let's get out of this hell-hole."
"That's an inaccurate descriptor." She was feeling more like herself now that freedom was in sight. "Most myths, even in the Bible, describe hell as a very hot and unpleasant place."
"And this place hasn't been unpleasant?"
"Yes. Certainly. But it isn't particularly hot. In fact, I've found the temperature to be quite pleasant."
"Caves, Bones. Their internal temperature usually hovers within a few degrees of the average outside temperature. Besides, didn't you say that some of these tunnels were the result of volcanic activity?"
"Yes, but-"
"Well there you go. Last I heard, volcanoes were pretty hellish places."
They were standing just below the opening, and now Booth bent and laced his fingers together. "Alleyoop, Bones."
"Alley … what?"
"Alleyoop." He looked up at her. "It means up you go."
"Oh." She took the rope out of the pack and hung it around her neck, then leaned the pack and parang against the wall, well clear of the nearest bat droppings. That done, she put her foot in his cupped hands and her hands on his shoulders. "Ready?"
"Whenever you are."
"Go."
She vaulted upwards at the same time he lifted, and an instant later her head and shoulders burst through the hole. She caught herself on the edge and pulled, grabbing at roots, the ground, anything to keep from sliding back down. Seconds later she'd hauled herself out.
In instant, she'd rolled to her feet and unloosed the rope from around her neck, already looking for something to tie it to. Discarding a nearby stand of immature bamboo as too flimsy, she settled instead on a tall, slender palm. She gave the rope a quick double wrap around the trunk, tied it off, and crossed back to the hole with the other end.
"Watch out," she said. "Here comes the rope."
"Let 'er rip."
She let it down, then dropped to her stomach beside the hole. He sent up the pack and parang first, since his shoulders would already be a tight fit. She untied the gear, set it aside, and passed the rope back down to Booth.
"All right," he said, "I'm coming up."
Behind her, the tree creaked against his weight, and Bones threw it a quick glance before returning her attention to Booth. He was very strong. She'd always known that, of course, but she didn't often have the pleasure of watching him apply his strength to this type of task.
He climbed quickly, hand over hand, and in another instant she was reaching down to him, doing her best to help. Then he was out and lying beside her on the ground, and for no apparent reason, they were both laughing. Booth got to his feet, still grinning, and pulled her up with him. But as they looked around, their smiles faded.
"Out of the frying pan ..." Booth murmured under his breath.
"And into the fire," she finished, because not only was she familiar with that particular idiomatic phrase, but it also seemed eminently applicable to the current situation.
There was no sign of either the ocean - which would have allowed them to follow the coast back to camp - or the trail they'd taken to reach the cave three days ago. Instead they were standing on the side of a steep hill. Thick forest rolled away from them on all sides, and when they looked up, there was no sky, just a thick canopy of leaves. Before they could do much more than exchange glances they heard a rumble of thunder followed by the sound of raindrops splashing into the treetops.
"Shelter," they said together, and traded tired grins.
"Great minds think alike." Booth blew out a breath and reached for the parang.
"No, it isn't great minds at all. It's just a rational response to the situation."
"Right, Bones." He used the parang as a makeshift ax, hacking into a stand of bamboo with ruthless efficiency. "Why don't you see about finding something we can use for lashings?"
It took them almost two hours to assemble a simple bamboo lean-to roofed with palm fronds. Crudely built and held together with lengths of jungle vine, it wouldn't win them any design awards, but it would protect them from the rain. While Booth tied on the last of the palm fronds, Brennan used the rain poncho and collapsible pot to set up a water catcher, hoping to replenish their supply. Despite the rain, she found herself enjoying the work. It felt good to contribute something meaningful to their survival, and to do it without a haze of anxiety clouding her thoughts.
As soon as the shelter was up they set about collecting firewood. Most of what they found was either green or damp, but they managed to collect enough tinder and dry bamboo to establish a good bed of coals. Once they had that they could add wet wood if they had to without fear of putting out the fire.
They were soaked to the skin by the time they'd finished, and it was with a feeling of satisfaction that Brennan crawled into the lean-to after Booth. They worked together getting the fire started, but she let him light it, too tired by then to go another round with the recalcitrant flint.
"I don't know about you," Booth said, finally sitting back, "but I'm starving."
Brennan reached into the pack. "I think we should celebrate."
She pulled out the granola bars and handed him one, keeping the other for herself. She also retrieved one of their bottles of water.
"Peanut butter," he said, reading the label. "Normally I'm not too fond of the stuff, but right now ..."
"I know." Peeling back the wrapper of her own bar, Bones held it to her nose and sniffed. Her stomach rumbled, and she flashed a quick grin at Booth. "This is going to be good."
He took a small bite of his own bar, chewed slowly, and swallowed. "Oh, yeah," he said. "It's good."
"Better than one of Gordon Gordon's specialties?" Bones asked, taking a bite of her own bar.
"You mean that sperm on corn smut stuff?" He wrinkled his nose. "Oh, yeah."
They took their time over the simple meal, washing it down with sips of water. Finished, Bones held out her hand.
"What?"
"Your wrapper," she said. "I want to put it back in the bag before I forget."
"I didn't know you were one of those," he said. But he handed over the paper nonetheless.
By the tone of his voice, she thought it likely that he was teasing her, but she wasn't sure why.
"One of what?" she asked, tucking the used wrappers into a zippered inside pocket.
"An eco-warrior."
She shook her head. "You're the soldier."
"Eco-warrior," he said. "You know, one of those people who chains themselves to trees to keep people from cutting them down."
"Oh. Well. I've never done that." She added a piece of wood to the fire. "Though I will agree that there are times when commercial industries seem to take an unnecessarily cavalier attitude toward the environment."
"Cavalier, Bones? Seriously?"
"What? It's a perfectly good word."
Shaking his head, he gestured. "Give me your foot."
Instinctively, she tucked it underneath her body. "Why?"
"Shoes," he said. "We need to get them dry."
"Oh." Then, "I can do it myself." She wasn't a two-year-old, and she wasn't incapacitated by fear anymore, either.
But he only sighed. "Did I say you couldn't?"
Reluctantly, she untangled her legs and watched him bend his head over the laces, his nimble fingers working at the knots. What would those fingers feel like against her bare skin? Were they as good at other tasks as they were at this one? Biting her lip, she forced the errant thoughts away as he peeled both shoe and sock off her foot and laid them out near the fire to dry. He repeated the task with her other foot.
"Wait," she said, remembering. "I need to check on the rain catcher."
"I'll do it. Stay put."
He was up and gone before she could respond, returning a moment later with the small pot almost brim full of water. She took it from him, emptied it into one of their water bottles, and handed it back. Then she added another stick of wood to the fire while he reset the rain catcher. When he came back, she pointed at his feet.
"Your turn," she said.
"For what?"
"Your shoes are wet, too, and since you helped me, it seems only fair that I should help you in return."
"Well, when you put it like that," He flashed a grin and extended his leg toward her.
She set to work, biting her lip as she struggled to untangle the wet laces. When the knot finally gave way she glanced up in triumph and caught him staring at her with something like yearning in his eyes. Her breath snagged in her throat, her fingers stilling against the laces.
"Booth ..."
He blinked, shook his head, and when he opened his eyes again the look was gone. "You done with that yet, Bones? My toes are getting all pruney."
Relieved, she grinned. "I don't think that's a real word."
"You know what it means, though, right?"
"Of course I do. But what you refer to as pruney-" She hesitated over the word. She'd always harbored a deep dislike for inaccurate language. "-is actually the result of simple diffusion of water across cell membranes."
"Pruney sounds cooler."
"But it's inaccurate," she insisted.
"So when Parker asks you why his fingers get pruney when he takes a bath ..."
"I'll tell him the truth, of course."
"You're going to explain diffusion to a ten year old." He sounded skeptical.
"It isn't a difficult concept to master," she said. "I was studying the process of photosynthesis at Parker's age." She considered the problem for a moment. Then, "But if you would prefer, I can have my dad explain it. He's very good with children."
"So are you." Leaning forward, Booth poked at the fire.
Flattered, she smiled at him. "That's very kind of you to say."
"Hey, I've seen you with Parker. You're amazing." He glanced at her, then away again. "Most people talk to kids like they're these little aliens or something. You don't do that. You talk to him like he's a real person. He appreciates that." He checked the shoes and turned the socks over, moving them a little closer to the heat. "So do I."
She didn't know what to say to that, so she didn't say anything at all.
"It's getting late," Booth said, adding another stick of wood to the fire. "We should get some sleep."
"What about our shoes?"
"They'll be fine. Just make sure you check them for stowaways before you put them on in the morning." He passed her the bottle of insect repellent. "You might want to put on some of this, though."
She did, making sure she put some on her feet, too. Then she passed it back to him. "You need to put some on, too."
He'd been poking at the fire again, banking it for the night, but he nodded and took the bottle. "I will."
"It's going to be tight sleeping in here," he said a few minutes later as he tucked the lotion back into the pack. "Sorry about that."
"No, I understand. There wasn't time to make the shelter bigger."
"Right." He hesitated, watching her. "Bones ... There's only one way this is going to work."
She studied the structure for a moment, considering. "Yes," she said, trying not to dwell on the implications. "We'll have to spoon up."
He gave her a look of amused surprise. It puzzled her.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just didn't know you knew that word, is all."
"It's a common term," she said, taking refuge in fact. "And though it isn't usually my preferred position, I understand that in this situation it will provide the most efficient use of limited space."
Without saying anything else, Booth curled up at the back corner of the lean-to, his left shoulder brushing against the shallow roof. She watched him adjust the pack under his head. Settled, he stretched out his right arm.
"All right, then. Come on."
Despite her conviction that spooning was the only logical response to the size of the shelter, Brennan felt a dangerous frisson of awareness at the thought of being so close to him in the confined space. "You want me to use your arm for a pillow?"
He shrugged. "Best I've got to offer, I'm afraid."
"But the weight of my head will restrict your circulation." She was aware that she was stalling, but she couldn't seem to help herself. In the cave there'd been the distraction of her anxiety. Here ...
"It's fine, Bones."
He was growing impatient with her. Swallowing her unease, she lay down, her back against his chest, her legs curled around his. His left arm settled around her waist, and she fought the urge to relax into him, frustrated by her body's apparent determination to undermine her decision not to pursue a sexual relationship with him. It was just chemistry, she reminded herself. The man emitted powerful pheromones, that was all. She forced her mind to focus on something other than how easy it would be to roll over and find his lips with hers.
Beyond their little fire the world faded to darkness, but it was a different kind of darkness than the one they'd experienced in the caves, less absolute. Instead of layers of rock shielding her from the sky there were only thick, gray clouds, so that the darkness that had felt oppressive and stifling inside felt peaceful out here, despite the incessant whine of insects. She couldn't explain the difference in scientific terms. It simply was.
She rolled over, careful not to put her foot in the fire. Booth grunted when her knee made accidental contact with his thigh.
"Do you mind telling me what you're trying to do here, Bones?"
She shifted her head on his arm and felt his muscles flex beneath her cheek. "I need to talk to you."
"And you couldn't do that where you were?" He reached down to rub the offended thigh.
"No." Firelight played along the planes and angles of his face, distracting her. "Because you taught me about eye contact."
His gaze sharpened. "And what you're about to say requires eye contact."
"Yes. Absolutely." She shifted again, trying to get comfortable.
"Okay, so," he prompted, when she settled. "You're here. What's up?"
She swallowed. Now that the moment had arrived she couldn't get the words to order themselves properly in her mind. She shifted again and ended up resting her hand against the hollow of his shoulder. Muscle rippled beneath her fingertips. She suppressed the urge to press her fingers into it.
"Angela was correct in her assessment," she said at last, pushing the words out quickly before she could change her mind.
He looked perplexed. "We're lost in the woods on a god-forsaken island in the middle of nowhere, and you want to talk about Angela."
She didn't understand how being lost had anything to do with it, but she nodded anyway. "Yes."
"Okay, then. Angela it is. What was she right about?"
"When I told her why I was coming here she asked me if I'd talked to you about it."
Booth grew very still. "What you told me," he said warily, "was that you'd been offered the position, and you wanted to take it."
"I know." It had been the safe thing to tell him, and truthful in itself, but it wasn't the entire truth, and keeping the rest of it from him had come to feel more and more like a kind of dishonesty.
"So ... You're saying there was more to it than that?"
She nodded. "And I've decided that it's important for you to know."
"Why?"
"Because it matters to me what you think." He mattered to her. Too much. And therein lay the real problem. When it came to him, she cared too much. Felt too much.
"So it wasn't just because you were excited about the work?"
"I was very excited about the work, yes. But that wasn't the only reason I accepted the position." She hated that she was so bad at this. But not telling him was lying by omission, and since they'd promised that they would always be honest with each other her failure to do so had caused her a great deal of unease over the last six months. She needed to tell him now, if only to assuage the feelings of guilt that had nagged at her since that day in the park.
"I was worried, Booth."
"About?"
"You ... Us ..." She took a breath. Let it out with a faint, self-conscious shrug. "All of it." With that she gave in to the urge to press her fingers into his shoulder, just a little, just enough to feel the muscle shift at her touch. "Mostly you."
Behind her, something shifted in the fire, sending up a shower of sparks that cast his features into sharp relief. There was a softness in his eyes, a tenderness that made her feel strangely shy.
"I couldn't stop thinking about what I would do if something happened to you," she said. "It was keeping me awake at night ... interfering with my work ..." She dropped her eyes, unable to hold his gaze anymore. "I had to get some perspective."
He was quiet for so long that Brennan began to wonder if he was going to respond.
"So you came here to get away from me," he said at last. The sadness in his voice drew her eyes back to his as she hurried to correct him.
"No," she said. "No. I just felt like I couldn't be objective anymore. About anything."
"And did it work?" he asked. "Coming here, I mean. Did it make you worry less?"
"No, not at all. And I don't understand why. I still worry about you. All the time. Only instead of thinking you'll get hurt on a case, I'm having nightmares about suicide bombers and insurgents with automatic weapons."
He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead with fingers that seemed impossibly gentle. "Would it help if I said that I worried about you, too?"
"There are no suicide bombers in the Maluku Islands, Booth."
"No, just giant tarantulas, disease carrying mosquitoes, and active volcanoes." He smiled faintly. "And I won't even mention the cave-ins."
"You just did."
"Bones ..." He sighed and wrapped his hand over hers where it still rested against his shoulder. "Worrying is a natural part of caring. The only way to stop worrying is to stop caring."
"I don't want to stop caring, but I need to be able to concentrate on my work."
"It's called balance." He squeezed her fingers. "You used to be proud of your ability to compartmentalize. That's what you need to do here."
"That's just it, Booth. I can't compartmentalize you. I wake up in the morning thinking about having coffee with you at the diner, and I fall asleep at night wondering if you'd had to shoot anybody that day, or worse, if anybody shot at you."
"Whereas I wake up in the morning thinking about the way your eyes light up when you smile, and I fall asleep at night wondering if you'd been bitten by a snake or captured by a tribe of headhunters."
"Headhunters?" She grinned. "Really, Booth?"
"The point is-" he said, shooting her a quelling glance, "It isn't easy for me, either." He shrugged a little. "It's all part of the package, Bones. You can't run away from it any more than you can run away from your own heart."
"Then how do you deal with it?"
"Mostly you just learn to live with it."
"It makes me very uncomfortable."
He smiled faintly. "It does that to everyone."
"Do you worry about Parker?"
"Yeah, Bones. I do. Every minute of every day."
And yet Booth was very good at his job, and Parker was a healthy, well-adjusted child. So perhaps what Booth had said about balance was correct, and she could learn to control her apprehension so it wouldn't interfere with her work. She had to learn, really, because according to Booth, the only other option would be to stop caring, and she didn't think she could do that anymore.
Booth took a breath, and she sensed that he was weighing his words. "I can't promise you that nothing's ever going to happen to me, any more than you can promise me that. But I can promise you that I will never, ever stop caring."
Never was an inherently flawed concept, impossible to prove, but she let it pass without comment. It was enough for now that he didn't seem angry with her for her deception.
"There's something else."
Eyebrows raised, he grinned at her. "There's more?"
"Yes." She pushed at his shoulder, but she was smiling. Telling him the truth felt good. "And this is important, too."
"Right," he said, "eye contact." But he squeezed her fingers again, and she found that she couldn't be annoyed with him for teasing her.
"I owe you an apology."
His grin faded to a look of blank confusion. "For what?"
"I believe I may have treated you unfairly."
"In what regard?"
"It's possible that ... on occasion ... I may have drawn inappropriate attention to my intellectual superiority."
"Wow," he said.
"Let me finish."
"Okay."
"I have come to believe that there are different kinds of intelligence, and that while my overall IQ and knowledge in many subject areas is far superior to yours, there are equally valid disciplines within which your knowledge and understanding exceeds my own."
"Bones. In English, please?"
She sighed. "I understand that there may be some things-" maybe even a lot of things "-about which you know more than I do."
When he only continued to watch her, she bit her lip, then pushed the rest of it out in a rush.
"I'm sorry if you ever felt that I didn't respect your abilities," she said. "The fact is, if you hadn't been with me back there ..." She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought, and her words trailed off in a shudder.
"Hey." Letting go of her fingers, he slid his hand up to her shoulder and then on to rest against the curve of her neck. "That's what friends are for, right?" he said. "Helping each other out when things get tough?"
She nodded. "I just ... I wanted you to know that I appreciated it."
"Ah. Well, you're welcome."
He smiled at her, and she smiled back, and for a moment she had a strong urge to lean forward just a little bit more so that she could feel the sweet-hungry sensation of his lips against hers. She dropped her eyes instead, not wanting him to suspect her thoughts. But there were times, like this one, when she wished she wasn't who she was.
Judging by the muffled drumbeat on the palm fronds over their heads, it was still raining. The fire hissed at a wayward drop of water, and insects hummed and buzzed all around them, despite the damp weather. It was almost as if the forest itself was a living, breathing entity. She imagined it watching over the two of them, then snorted a little. That type of whimsical thinking was very out of character for her.
"Is that everything, then? No more big revelations?" Booth asked. "Because I'm thinking maybe we should try to get some sleep."
"I believe that's it, yes."
She rolled back over, careful not to hit him with her knee again, and eased back into place. When his arm came around her waist, there was something different about it, a tenderness she hadn't noticed before. He made her feel safe, she decided - which was ridiculous, because she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, especially out here in the open - but she couldn't deny that she enjoyed the weight of his arm at her waist and the warmth of his breath moving through her hair.
He was different from any man she had ever known, and being close to him felt right in ways she couldn't accurately define. But because of him, she kept having to mediate arguments between her rational side, which insisted on pointing out all the ways people had disappointed her over the years, and another, long silenced part of herself that yearned to believe the things Booth believed and wondered if maybe falling didn't always have to hurt.
She'd learned a great deal from Booth over the years - the importance of eye contact, the role of listening as a path to understanding, and how to temper truth with compassion - but there was still the fact that she would never have Booth's kind of open heart. And he deserved somebody who could give him that, a woman who was not, as he'd once accurately called her, a cold fish.
She sighed, her eyes on the glowing embers of the fire. All her life she'd been able to study and practice, to learn the things she needed to get what she wanted. But there were no rules for this, no diagrams she could memorize that would guide her through the unpredictable challenges of human relationships. How ironic it would be if the one skill she wanted most to master also turned out to be the one skill that was beyond her grasp.