Here's the next chap, you know the drill!!!
They were walking through the park; two friends exchanging details about their day when she turned towards him, stopping their stroll in its place. Booth looked at her with deep brown eyes swirling with questions. Brennan chewed on her lip and then spoke.
"Booth," she began, voice shaking. "I need to tell you something."
"Sure, Bones, what is it?" he asked warmly, voice soothing away any uncertainty on her part.
"I-"
"You?"
"I've- um- I-" she stopped herself to mentally backhand herself for being stupid. Come on, Bren. You're trained as a Marine as well as a CIA agent. You're an FBI agent who works for the BAU. You're going to be fine now GROW A PAIR AND TELL HIM!
"I work for-" she once again stopped due to a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to get a better look at the flash of white she had seen and the image clicked in her mind with recognition instantly. No, it can't be him, she thought, eyes widening with panic.
"What's wrong?" Booth asked, the deep and loving tones of his voice washing over her face. Brennan continued to watch the man in the distance, waiting in a frozen trepidation.
"Booth, run," she spoke with a fearful voice, words choked on and strangled in her throat. "Booth, you have to run."
"What? Why?" he laughed softly at her. She weakly pulled on her partner's sleeve, but he wouldn't move. The man raised his weapon and then POP! She screamed as the bullet tore through Booth's chest, leaving a slowly spreading crimson rose staining his crisp white shirt; he crumpled to the ground and she was left screaming. She had Booth's blood on her hands.
Brennan sat bolt upright, but continued to scream until her mind registered that it had been a dream; a bead of sweat trickled down her face and fell onto her arm as more sweat soaked the back of her shirt. Her heart was beating painfully against her ribcage as the panic slowly dissipated. However, the fear remained. Without thinking, she snatched her cell phone from her bedside table and frantically punched in the numbers for Booth's phone.
Cam woke up to the buzzing of a phone next to the pillow on the table; she slowly pried her head away from her boyfriend's chest and groggily flipped the offending piece of plastic and held it to her ear.
"Hello?" she asked through the fog covering her brain. Booth shifted in his sleep and then slowly opened his eyes, not wanting to be bothered.
"Cam?"
"Dr. Brennan?" Cam asked in alarm, eyes flying over to meet Booth's.
"What?" Booth asked, having quicker reflexes he grabbed the phone and held it to his ear.
"Bones? You there?"
"Sorry, Booth. I must have- uh, dialed the wrong number. Bye!" Brennan's voice came out in a fake and tear-soaked chuckle before she was replaced with a dial tone. Booth stared at the phone and then became worried.
Brennan sat on her bed with a death grip on her phone while her teeth held a similar hold on her bottom lip in order to prevent her screams from escaping into the hollow air of the apartment. He's OK. You're overreacting. It was just a dream. A small, pain laced, whimper wriggled out between her lips and caused his words to reenter her mind.
"All humans are insignificant. Why should your friends be saved when others perish?"
A swift, fluid movement of her arm sent the phone reeling into the wall; the remnants crashed and danced across the floor before finally settling in a mosaic of plastic and wires.
"We're sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please-" the robotic voice was cut off when Booth slammed his phone shut. Part anger, part confusion, part anxiety- it wasn't a good combination.
"What's going on? What's wrong?" Cam asked softly from her place by the headboard of Booth's bed. He had moved to the foot of the bed after her phone call and now he was feeling even more grieved and aggravated as his eighth attempt to reach her ended in failure.
"I don't know. I've never heard her sound so upset," he sighed heavily.
"You don't think she's having nightmares, do you?"
The color drained from the agent's face like water in a bathtub sans the plug.
"Oh, I am the biggest jerk in existence," he groaned miserably as he stood up and hurriedly redressing.
"Where are you going?" she asked, sitting up straighter with worry on her face.
"I have to go check on her. I just need to know that she's OK."
"Seeley, calm down. She's awake now. There's really nothing else you can do."
"I can still-"
"You know better than anyone she won't talk."
She has a point, Seel. He let out a long breath of air and sank bank down onto the bed.
The next day...
The anthropologist had been awake since the nightmare. It was now 7:30 A.M., so it had been approximately seven hours; she yawned for the fifth time and continued to work on the remains. A small wave of dizziness came over her head and she leaned against the table, swallowed hard, and steadied herself. Inhaling deeply, she inspected the vertebrae with a lesser version of her usual scrutiny. After a few more moments, she straightened her back and sighed with frustration. For the first time in a year, Brennan had found herself unable to focus. Her mind sprinted through different topics of thought and soon her eyes were closing on their own accord out of pure exhaustion. Oh, yeah. I've only slept four hours in about a week and a half.
Booth decided to come in early and check in on his partner; he knew she would be there, that's what she always did when she was upset or frustrated or angry or even- scared? He didn't like the thought of his strong and independent partner scared of something- in fact, the idea of someone being able to do that to her downright pissed him off. A movement on the platform caught his eye, causing him to look up and instinctively smile at the sight of her hovering over the remains. He couldn't help it, he had to smile when he saw her like this. She was so intent on her work and fiercely determined to solve this case. There were times that he wondered if she was more devoted to the case than he was.
Booth slowly approached her from behind in order to hang on to the last opportunity to watch her without her knowing for the day. Her ponytail hung over her shoulder and her face was lit up by the fluorescent lights under the glass of the examination table.
She didn't even realize that he was there until she saw an arm go by her face; she reacted by whirling around, slamming into Booth's chest and knocking both of them off balance. He tried to steady their postures, but only managed to fall forward and successfully pinned her against the desk next to the table. She was face up and halfway laying on the surface with Booth resting on his forearms that were currently placed on both sides of her face. They stopped moving, realizing that their faces were a mere inch apart, and locked eye contact. Brennan suppressed a shiver brought on by his warm breath caressing her lips and then she noticed that his eyes had drifted to her mouth as well. His smoldering gaze caused a warm pool of longing to bubble up in her torso. Quick, find something unattractive about him. Nope, his breath smells delicious. No, he's wearing the cologne I love. His hair is perfect and that tie- that is currently hanging down on my stomach, I might add- is so sexy. What? Since when do you find a dark blue tie with small, lighter blue swirls sexy?
This is wrong, his mind whispered to him. She's vulnerable and she's your partner. He still couldn't force himself to move; she looked so innocent and young as she stared up at him from those wide blue orbs that had lost all their defense mechanisms. He could see that something was bothering her and that she was losing sleep over it. He could see that she was sad. Desire couldn't help but cloud over his eyes as he watched her eyes flick down to his chest.
"Uh, Booth?"
"Yeah?"
"I can't feel my hands," she stated simply, breaking the trance that had settled over both of them.
"Yeah, right," he coughed as he pushed away from her and stood up. She followed suit and immediately smoothed out her lab coat.
She could still see the blood on his chest. A shudder subtly shook her shoulders as she gave Booth a lame excuse and retreated to her office. The door shut behind her a little harder than she intended to, but at least she was safe inside her safe haven. Her heels clicked as they met the floor on her way to her desk. A shaky breath and a sip of coffee later, she seemed to gain control over her emotions somewhat. See? He's fine. Nobody is going to hurt your friends. You're all safe.
Her chair dipped slightly as she fell into it gracefully. She pulled out her notes and the crime scene photos to try to get her mind back on the case and off of her partner, who just happened to be coming her way. He wants to know why you called him in the middle of the night, her mind growled at her.
"Oh, this is not good," she whined to herself quietly.
He slowly made his way over to her office, unsure of her reaction. How is she supposed to react?! You almost kissed her! You, Mr. Professional. almost tried to make out with your partner on top of a desk! His mind continued to yell at him until he was in her doorway, watching her type something into her computer. He quickly found himself mesmerized by her hands; her slender fingers gliding across the keyboard and gently pressing each key. The movement- extending and retracting her ivory fingers- created a slow, tantalizing rhythm. It was like she was teasing him. His eyes met her face again as she turned back toward him and started to speak.
"It's 7:40, Booth. What are you doing here so early?"
"I should ask you the same thing," he murmured softly, faintly cursing his voice for coming out in a husky rumble instead of the light and carefree tone he usually used.
"Couldn't sleep," she sighed, leaning one of her elbows against the armrest and taking on a casual stance that he suddenly found intensely attractive.
"Nightmares?"
Way to be subtle, Seel.
"Yeah," she admitted sheepishly, looking down in embarrassment.
"About the Gravedigger?"
Brennan was stunned for a minute; she looked at him strangely. Does he seriously think that's what's bothering me?
"No," she shook her head while looking at him oddly. Now it was his turn to look dumbfounded.
"What?"
"Booth, the Gravedigger doesn't bother me anymore."
He shut the door behind him and two, slow steps toward her desk with the look of puzzlement and confusion that she thought was adorable.
"What are you having nightmares about then?"
Way to go, Bren. Now you have to admit that you were dreaming about him getting shot by the brother of a man that you assassinated.
"Uh," she let out a dry laugh. "You know, the usual stuff."
She smiled curtly at him before standing up and attempting to leave; however, he wasn't about to let this go. He held up his arm in front of her torso and held her in place. Slowly, her eyes traveled up to his unwavering gaze and the emotion she found waiting for her in his eyes unnerved her; concern, gentleness, patience, empathy, and desire all swirling together in one single look. The scarier thing, though, was that that look made her want to tell him everything and nothing at the same time. She desperately wanted him to know who she really was, but then again she knew that he would despise her for it. This was a lose/ lose situation and she knew it.
He watched her face change as she thought about something, something he desperately wanted to understand in order to relieve her obvious turmoil. For the second time that day, her eyes flicked to a spot on his chest, but this time she inhaled sharply and clenched her eyes shut as she turned away quickly. He glanced down at his tie to see if he could find what she kept looking at and after finding nothing, he turned back to her.
"What's going on, Temperance?" he asked, voice impossibly lower. The use of her first name caused her to look back at him whilst chewing her lip nervously.
"I- I was, um," she swallowed painfully. "I was walking through a park and, uh, you were there."
What? She had a sex dream about me? Whoa, maybe you should refrain from touching her then.
"Yeah?" he couldn't keep the hint of excitement out of his voice.
"I was trying to tell you something and then- then you were sh-shot," she cursed herself for stammering, but her voice was trembling like a dried leaf on a windy October morning. She lowered her eyes to the floor and waited for his reaction. She could almost hear his mind processing the information. Her mind told her to keep staring at the floor, to remain professional and dignified, but her eyes acted on their own volition. They looked up at his face and found him staring at her still.
"Who was the man that shot me?"
"His name is Frank Tothill," she replied.
"What were you trying to tell me?" he asked. She knew telling him that part was a mistake- now the pressure would increase.
"Something that I need you to know, but not right now."
"Is this what I've been asking about?"
"Yeah, yeah it is."
"When will you tell me?"
"Soon, I just need some time."
"For what?" he asked. He was beginning to grow irritated.
"I just don't want you to hate me for it," she whispered to him before fleeing the office.
Booth was left standing in deep thought. Then, he got an idea; he had a name now and he was going to find out who Brennan was afraid of.
Hey guys!! sorry it took me forever to update, but I had finals so I was kind of busy. straps on bullet proof vest for good measure anyway, the next chapter shouldn't take that long to finish. Next up comes Brennan and the guys "de-squinting" her apartment. Lots of cuteness!!!
