A/N: I hope this chapter pays off for everyone! There's one more after this, I hope you have enjoyed this story!
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own the show. Thanks for asking.
The first place Brennan checked was Booth's office, but it was dark. She next tried calling him on her phone, but it went straight to voice mail.
She sighed and considered her options. There were a number of places Seeley Booth might go when upset, but she wasn't sure which one he'd pick this time. And if he wasn't going to take her calls, how could she arrange a meeting?
Brennan decided to drive to his apartment. When she got there, she saw that his SUV was nowhere in sight and the windows were dark.
Looking around to be sure no one was watching, she checked under the fake rock. Sure enough, he hadn't moved the key. Doesn't he realize how dangerous this is?
She let herself into his home, figuring no matter where he was at the moment, he'd come back here at some point. Brennan congratulated herself on coming to such a logical conclusion as she snapped on a light so she could see.
The last time she'd been here, she hadn't stopped to look around - she had been too focused on having it out with him. Brennan felt her cheeks grow hot as she remembered that evening, barging into his bathroom to rail at him for his lack of consideration.
She felt her lips twitch into a smile when she remembered how he looked, very attractive, very sexy even with that stupid beer helmet on…
She took a deep breath. Focus, Temperance. You don't know when he'll be here and you don't want him to catch you fantasizing about his body…
She studied his apartment. A worn leather couch sat in front of a small color television. A low wooden coffee table was littered with newspapers and sports magazines.
There was a bookshelf along one wall. There were DVD's there, including some Disney films (for Parker, no doubt), older books that looked like college texts, and each one of her novels. She brushed the spines, touched that he bought them.
There were pictures on top of the shelf. Booth with his arm around another man in uniform, who bore a resemblance to him. His brother, maybe? A couple of pictures of Parker. And, to her surprise, pictures of the two of them.
There was one of them that Angela snapped after the Halloween party. Brennan was dressed as Wonder Woman and Booth as a squint. They both looked a little worse for wear because they'd just finished catching a serial killer. But they were both grinning.
Brennan picked up another one – it had been taken at the reception of Hodgins and Angela's non-wedding. They stood at an angle towards each other, holding hands, facing the camera. Booth had just said something funny, and they were both laughing.
Brennan sighed, feeling her throat close up. He had this way of getting her to feel instead of coolly analyze. No matter how many locks she put on her emotions, he seemed to be able to pick them. It was something about him that frightened and angered her. Even though it was something she found herself grateful for from time to time.
She heard a key in the lock. Brennan quickly put the picture down and turned to face her partner.
When Booth opened the door, he took one look at his living room and suddenly his gun was out. "Okay! Hands up!"
"Booth!" she screamed, throwing her hands up. "It's me! It's Brennan!"
"Bones?" he took a good look at her and then, swearing, lowered his gun. "Thanks for the heart attack. Are you crazy breaking into my place again?"
She worked on getting her breathing under control as Booth slammed the door shut and holstered his gun. "I'm sorry. I didn't consider you might try to shoot me."
He winced. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't expect you to be here, and all I saw was someone standing in my apartment." He folded his arms over his chest and glared at her. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
She saw he was still angry. She mustered up her courage and said, "I need to talk to you. As soon as possible."
Booth stared at her, frowning. "Why? Did Sweets send you over to get me to be a good boy?"
"This has nothing to do with Sweets," she said. "Booth, I'm going to talk to you and I'm not leaving until I do."
He raised an eyebrow. "Bones, if I want to throw you out of here I can."
She shook her head. "While you have greater upper body strength than I do I am very skilled in martial arts. I think I'd make it quite difficult for you to eject me from your apartment."
Booth's eyes narrowed as he studied her. Brennan met his stare with hers, doing her best to look intimidating. In reality she hoped he was bluffing about throwing her out, because the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. Not tonight.
Finally, Booth sighed and threw his hands in the air. "Fine. You want to talk? Talk. Let's get it over with." He threw himself on his couch and folding his arms again looked up at her expectantly.
Brennan dropped her eyes to her shaking hands. She'd faced murderers. She'd dug in mass graves while men with guns stood around her. She'd been buried alive.
But what she was about to do would take more courage than any of those other things had.
"Well," she said, as the silence between them grew, "I've been considering the tension between us logically, so that I can understand your anger…"
A snort made her look up. Booth was frowning, his arms still crossed. "You still don't get it? What do you need Bones, a step-by-step analysis?"
Oops. Mistake. She'd retreated into cool logic, and it wasn't going to solve anything. Brennan gulped and decided to say the first thing that came into her head. Think with your heart. Okay, here goes…
"You don't really think I'd team up with Sweets to do an experiment on you, do you?" she blurted out.
Booth's eyes widened. Brennan didn't blame him – she was a little surprised at the question herself. But she did want to know.
After a moment, Booth's shoulders slumped. "No, Bones, I know you better than that," he said. "I was just furious at Sweets and you not telling me, all right?" He ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward on the couch. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
"It's okay," she said, shifting from one foot to the other.
"Okay," Booth said, getting to his feet. He seemed mesmerized by the newspaper headline on top of the coffee table. "So, was that it? That's what you needed to talk about?"
She almost said yes. But she knew that was her fear speaking, not her heart. And even ignoring Sweets' psychological babbling, there was a part of her that felt she owed her partner this truth. No matter what the cost.
"That night, when you got shot…" she began in a soft voice. She saw Booth's head jerk up, his startled eyes examining her face.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to go back to that horrible evening. "You were bleeding…you were bleeding so badly. I kept trying to make it stop. I kept talking to you, I thought if you lost consciousness it would be bad…"
"'Come on, Booth, come on,'" Booth muttered.
She started. "You heard me."
Booth nodded. "It was the last thing I remembered before I woke up at the hospital."
Brennan swallowed. Don't cry. You're not allowed to cry right now. She continued, working to keep her voice level. "The ambulance came, and I wanted to go with you, but the police wouldn't let me." A thread of anger seeped into her voice. "They said they had to ask me all these questions when it was perfectly clear what had happened!"
Booth couldn't hide a grin. "Protocol, Bones. You know about that."
She rolled her eyes. "It was unnecessary. While they were questioning me, they kept asking me if I wanted to clean up. I realized –" she gulped. "I realized I had your blood all over me. My hands, my shirt…"
Booth winced. "I'm sorry, Bones."
She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. But I didn't want to take time to clean up. I wanted to get to the hospital. I kept telling them that."
She swallowed, wanting to moisten her dry throat. But she didn't want to ask Booth for water, fearing if she stopped she couldn't start this again. Booth stood in front of her, watching her carefully. She looked down at the cream carpet, unable to meet his eyes.
"Finally the FBI came and gave me permission to go. Angela drove me in my car, everyone else followed. We got to the hospital and waited. Angela wanted to take me to the bathroom and wash the blood off, but I didn't want to leave – I wanted to know you were all right…"
She remembered the feel of drying blood on her hands, the tackiness of it on her blouse. The tears threatened again, and for the second time she had to order herself to stop. She wouldn't cry. She would stay strong.
"Then…then Agent Adams came to the waiting room. And he told us…he told us you were dead." She had to gather herself a moment.
Booth took a step towards her, a hand out. Brennan took a step back, wrapping her arms around her body. "Don't. Please."
Booth froze. He lowered his hand and his voice, as if he were afraid of spooking her. "Bones…"
She started speaking again, the words coming faster. "I demanded to see your body. Adams said no. I demanded to see the doctor. Adams said he was busy. I…I shouted at him to get me Cullen. He said I couldn't, he was sorry." In spite of the emotions roiling inside her, a smile tugged at her lips. "I think I frightened him. He all but ran out of the room after he said he was sorry."
Booth grinned a bit. "Yeah, Adams told me later you spooked him pretty bad. But I didn't get a chance to ask about details."
She almost chuckled, but remembering what happened after that confrontation sobered her quickly.
"Angie and Hodgins were holding each other and crying," she said softly. "Cam was crying too. Zack…Zack looked lost. Like he didn't know how to act. Sweets just sat there stunned. Me…I just had to leave. I couldn't stay."
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She saw Booth reach for her and held up a hand to stop him. "Please, Booth. Just let me finish."
He lowered his hand but she saw the concern on his face. He seemed to know this was costing her, and while a part of her was grateful, another part wished he'd stay mad at her – it would make this so much easier.
"I drove home," she said. "On the way, Cam called to tell me the lab would be closed for the next two days, and Angie called to see if she should come over. I didn't want anyone over. I got home –"
This was hard. She shut her eyes, wishing she could shut out that night as easily.
"It was the first time I was alone and not doing something. Suddenly I could smell your blood…for the first time in years the smell of blood made me sick. I ran to the bathroom and threw up.
"Then I got into the shower with my clothes on. I ran it hot and when I saw your blood going down the drain I started to cry, because even though it doesn't make any logical sense I felt as if I was washing you down the d-drain…"
She felt his hands on her arms. Her eyes flew open and she tried to pull away, but he held her gently. "Bones, shh, I'm right here."
Brennan shook her head. "You don't understand! I took those two days and cried more than I cried since I was 15! Then I could do what I always do – I could shut up my feelings and be strong!"
She slammed her fists against her partner's chest. "And then I get talked into going to your stupid funeral where I have to fight to keep myself strong and then you show up like everything's fine and I was so angry at you!"
"Why, Bones!" Booth asked, gripping her arms. "Why were you mad at me?"
"Because you made me feel!" she screamed at him. "All my life I stayed strong by not letting myself feel when people hurt me or left me! That's how I got through my parents leaving, Russ leaving, all the foster homes – and I couldn't do it with you because no matter what I did –" she punctuated the next four words by slamming her fists on Booth's chest for each one – "you – made – me – feel!"
Then it was as if a dam burst. Everything she'd gone through the past few weeks – Booth's "death" and reappearance, Zack's betrayal, even her father's trial – it all hit her at once. All the walls she'd locked her feelings behind collapsed and she broke down sobbing, burying her face into Booth's chest.
His arms went around her, a hand tracing soothing circles on her back. He spoke to her softly. "It's okay, Bones. It's okay. It's okay to feel."
She shook her head as she cried. "It's weak!" she gasped.
"No," he said gently. "It's never weak, Bones. You may think it made you strong to hide these things, but all they did was fester. Trust me, this is better."
Brennan lost track of time. Strangely, as she calmed, she found herself feeling better after such an outpouring of emotion. Maybe Booth had a point.
Then she realized she was in her partner's arms. Very close to him. Her head buried in his chest.
Okay, this was not appropriate.
Booth appeared to come to the same conclusion. As she moved to step back he loosened his hold on her so she was able to put some space between them
"Well, um…." she stammered, looking at a point of the wall behind Booth's left shoulder, "I am glad you're not dead, and I appreciate your taking a bullet for me, though I would've been happy to take it myself –"
"I get it, Bones," Booth said, raising his hands to stop her. "I'm glad I'm not dead too, and I don't regret what I did – I care about you."
Brennan's eyes widened. Booth spoke quickly. "I mean, as a really, really good friend and partner, Bones."
"Of course!" Brennan said nodding. "And I – I think of you as a valuable friend and colleague."
Her partner nodded. "Yeah." His mouth crooked into a grin. "Hey Bones, you eat dinner yet?"
She shook her head. "No. You?"
"Nope," he said. "How about the diner?"
"That sounds like a great idea," she said.
"Great!" Booth said. He looked down at the large damp spot on his shirt. "Um, let me get a clean shirt on and we'll go, okay?"
"Sure," Brennan agreed. She let out a sigh of relief while she waited for Booth. She'd done it – she'd told Booth how she felt and their partnership was secure. Everything was fine.
Molly Nunan's face drifted into her thoughts. She sighed again. Well, almost everything.