A/N: Overpraise is worse than no praise, but I love all of you who take the time to click that little button. I am getting around to responses to all! I am so chuffed with the response to my "Zack Chap", which given the heightened level of emotion surrounding this dearly beloved character, was a big risk for me. I have to thank bea.tricks (again - thanks hun) - for her input on Zack and steering me right where I was taking him down a path our Zackeroonie would never go.
Back to the story...
x-x-x-x-x
Daylight was almost gone and what little still shone was blocked by the thin slats of his office blinds. A cup of coffee sat cold next to the screen which had switched to sleep ages before. Booth sifted through the index cards he had pulled from his suit pocket and his head ached as he tried to organize them into some sort of order so he could begin writing his report.
His cell buzzed once, the vibration shifting it half an inch across the pile of paperwork that covered most of his desk. He glanced at the screen, sighed and contemplated ignoring it for a moment before answering it anyway.
"Bones." His greeting was flat.
"Booth. Can we meet?"
The last time she had asked him that, exactly like that, things hadn't gone too well from his point of view. "Tonight? Bones, I'm pretty beat."
"It's important."
He sighed again and didn't respond. The day had not started well given his state of mind when he had dragged himself into the office after a night wholly lacking in sleep. He'd spent his whole day neck deep in paperwork with four times the usual amount of emails to blast through and every time he'd tried to start sorting these cards, some newbie agent had banged on his door with some inane query. Being a veteran Agent had its downsides. It had absolutely been one of those days.
"Booth?" she pressed on. "I went to see Zack today."
He blinked once and agreed to meet her.
x-x-x-x
He'd stayed in his office for an hour with a renewed sense of purpose. He had sorted his cards, tidied his desk and damn near loaded the dishwasher in the mess in an attempt to delay his arrival. He had loaded the one at home when he had gone to change.
He was struggling with being there for her, but if one event in her life was going to require his presence, seeing Zack was it. But here he was so he raised his hand and knocked on the door of her apartment.
He shoved his hands in his pants pockets, then pulled them out and folded them across his chest. He shook his head and moved again, placing one hand against the door jam.
"C'mon, Bones."
Finally he settled for stepping back a foot and jamming his hands into his jacket pockets just as the door opened quietly. She looked fresh with barely damp hair and he was surprised to notice, no make-up. She was, without doubt, as beautiful as he had ever seen her, but the informality in her appearance was unusual. His mouth dried but he managed a smile.
"Please come in."
"Thanks." He moved past her into her home that he knew as well as his own, save one or two rooms.
"Thanks for coming."
"Hey, no problem." He stood, feeling more awkward in her presence than he had ever done. There was something about knowing where she had been that unnerved him.
She walked past him towards her kitchen and as she passed he caught her scent, like warm linen and daisies. His stomach churned, halfway between excitement and panic; he forced himself to swallow.
"Would you like something to drink?"
He watched her move around her kitchen and saw a wet tendril hung along the nape of her neck from a loose ponytail. He itched to curl it round his fingers so he accepted her offer, plainly so he would have something to do with his hands.
She flipped the tops off two bottles of beer and handed him one. Another surprise, she usually drank wine. She smiled up at him, and leaned back against her counter top and over the rim of his own bottle, he watched her raise hers and press it to her lips. She looked calm and relaxed. Booth had been sure he'd find her in some state of distress, unable to articulate whatever trauma her visit to Zack had wrought on her. His sense of unease grew; he decided time to kick start the conversation.
"So..."
"I saw Zack this evening and we spoke at length. He was able to help me to think again about a number of things."
Booth bit back a number of knee jerk responses. The thought of Zack giving Brennan any kind of advice troubled him but he indicated with a wave of his bottle that she should continue. He moved to a stool by her breakfast bar, feeling the need to sit.
She drummed her fingers against the side of the bottle and appeared to be thinking carefully about whatever it was she had prepared to say. His unease started to turn into impatience.
"Just spit it out Bones."
And then Booth couldn't help but laugh when she looked quizzically at him, then at her beer bottle. He rolled his eyes at her, smiling crookedly as she once again, caught on to his actual meaning. She took the stool next to him and placed her bottle heavily on the granite surface.
"Zack is doing well, Booth. Much better than I had expected him to."
"That's good news. What did you speak to him about?" Booth nodded solemnly but pressed on. He was glad to hear that news, for her sake as well as Zack's, but he wasn't going to let her draw this out. He had promised to make this easy, but if she kept this up he was going to say or do something he would regret. Again.
"We spoke about his recovery, he is regaining good use of one of his hands."
"Bones." He tried very hard to keep his growing frustration out of his voice.
She paused and he reluctantly allowed her a moment to gather her thoughts.
"He reminded me that a logical approach to an event is not necessarily most beneficial to all parties. "
He blew out a breath. "Bones, for once, please, talk English."
She looked up apparently startled at his sharp words and he fought off his habitual reaction to ease to her discomfort. Instead he let the silence stretch until she spoke again.
"I was told, you will remember, that I am incapable of leading a purposeless life. I interpreted that to mean I need direction and guidance, a task to allow me to feel fulfilled. I have always found that in my work, in my writing and as I explained to you, the risk of losing that purpose was too great for me. I was also told that some purposelessness was necessary for a fulfilling life. I didn't accept that at the time and I don't now. I must have purpose in my life. " She paused.
"It has taken the events of the last weeks to make it clear to me just how much you have contributed to who I am. When I believed you dead, I rejected everything I had learned in the past three years. Booth, I understand why I did that, and I don't like it."
Booth frowned and she explained further. "I've been alone my whole life. It was all I knew."
Booth sighed deeply and sadly, and placed his glass bottle on the surface and laid his hand flat next to it, but she spoke quickly.
"Booth, you never thought this Pact would work did you?"
He looked at her, and decided to be honest. "I know I didn't want it to, and I know I tried to figure out a way to break it."
"I know. You tried to manipulate me with the celibacy proposal. "
Even after years of her direct honesty, it always caught him off guard but he recovered quickly. "I did. Do you understand why?"
"I think so."
"The whole thing," he waved his hand between them, "trying to get you to agree not to see other people. I thought, you might, well, I thought you might decide that...
She cut him off, shaking her head. "You agreed to the Pact, hoping it wouldn't work."
"Can you blame me?" He felt no embarrassment at his admission.
"No," she said quietly.
"Bones, why don't you believe us when we tell you you're not alone anymore?"
She glanced down at her mother's ring on her finger and touched it with her finger tip. "I do believe you, Booth. I do now."
Booth breathed in deeply realising that finally, they were getting to the point. He watched her fidget with the piece of simple jewellery and resisted reaching out to her to still her hand. "So?"
"Zack told me he wanted me to be happy."
"We all want that for you." This time he did reach out, briefly rubbing his thumb over her knuckle. He adored the velvet of her cool skin and allowed himself a moment of contact before he began to withdraw but her other hand moved quickly and clasped his hand to hers. He found her eyes still shining, this time with unshed tears, but his heart began to lighten at the brightness he saw in their blue depths.
"You are part of my purpose."
He barely heard her whisper, but the faint hope that had been building inside him exploded like fireworks. She leaned toward him and whispered against his ear.
"You make me happy."
He laid his hand on the side of her face and held gently to him, her warm cheek against his.
"That's good, Bones. That is a good thing. This Pact," and despite the tender moment he found himself almost spitting the word out, "wasn't ever going to work because we're in love. And that overcomes logic every time."
"It shouldn't." She leaned back, able to look at him again and he finally saw their future in her eyes. "But it does."
"But it does," he repeated and pulled her to stand with him. He held his breath and prayed, then spoke. "So, are you ready to get started with this thing?"
She smiled broadly and he grinned back. There was no uncertainty, no hesitation, nothing standing in their way apart from her answer to his question.
"Absolutely." She reached out, grabbed his belt buckle and dragged his hips toward hers.
He groaned hoarsely and lifted his hand to her face. "Temperance."
"No. Don't call me that."
"What do you mean?" He leaned down as she lifted her face to his.
"Call me Bones."
"Why?" he whispered against her lips.
"Because I like it," she murmured.
"Really?" His other hand slipped round her waist and pulled her body flush to his.
She nodded, slipped her hand underneath his jacket and gripped the thin fabric of his t shirt.
"So, no more pacts?"
She shook her head, barely, not breaking contact.
"No more rules."
Again, she motioned no as she smoothed her palms under his T shirt onto the heated skin of his back.
"Don't think for a minute I'm going to try to talk you out of this decision."
"Booth."
"Bones."
"Please, no more waiting."
"No more waiting," he agreed, and crushed his lips to hers.
x-x-x-x-x
A/N: If you are angry with me for breaking here, blame bea.tricks...the teasiest-tease of all fanfic writers - she said it was the right thing to do ;) - well sort of - but never fear - the next chap will be up soon...and all the sooner for a little click click of that review button!