Disclaimer: I do not own the following: Bones, Harry Potter, or Lindt chocolate. There is, however, Lindt chocolate in a bag in my house... Which also is not mine. Wow, depressing, isn't it?
It was a relief to be able to wrap his arms around her again, to not have to worry about the anger that had flared up between them so recently. He understood why it had all happened, though, and he wasn't at all blaming her for it. In fact, he was quite proud of her for speaking up first and being the one to clear the air.
Overall, it was pretty much just nice to be able to talk to her once more, relax at the diner, sit and watch television late at night... observe her facial expressions as she got closer to the end of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire while they lay side by side on the bed.
She was almost to the end of the maze, he knew, and so it wouldn't be long before she was at the graveyard scene. He was flipping through a car magazine, only glancing at it occasionally. His main focus was on her, though, and he was comforted to know that with her eyes glued to the page there was very little chance she'd catch him staring.
"You want something to eat?" he asked as the sound of a page turning reached his ears. He'd turned his attention back to the magazine for a moment.
"Sure," she said thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving the book.
"What would you like?" he asked, attempting to get a longer response out of her.
"Whatever," she muttered, that cute little frown forming as all of her attention went into the story. She seemed to have forgotten all about him a moment later, eyes flicking back and forth, reading far quicker than he probably ever could. She must be at a good part, he thought with a smirk, but didn't attempt to look over her shoulder. That had ended badly last time... apparently she didn't appreciate having someone else reading along from behind her.
He climbed out of the bed and made his way to the kitchen, his bare feet hopping quickly along from one freezing floor tile to the next. A minute later he was heading back, a wide grin plastered across his face and a bag of chocolate in one hand.
"Bones, what's this?" he asked as he leaned against the doorframe and held it up.
Her eyes stayed on the page for a moment longer before reluctantly raising to look at what he wanted her to see. His grin only widened as he watched her eyes widen and a barely noticeable blush formed on her cheeks. It vanished in an instant, though, as she frowned.
"What do you mean?" she asked, feigning ignorance. At that he had to laugh. She was an amazing actress when they were undercover, yes, but she was terrible at lying. Or maybe it was just to him that those circumstances applied.
"Oh sure, play dumb," he teased, coming over and sitting himself down on the edge of the mattress near her feet. She pulled her legs up under the covers and tucked them around her. "How long has this been hiding in that pan in the back cupboard?"
Another quick blush. "I didn't... I mean..." she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, I saw a Lindt store and I couldn't resist. There, happy now?"
"Yup. When were you planning on telling me about these, anyways?" he asked curiously, pulling out a truffle and deftly removing the wrapped with a quick twist. He popped it in his mouth and sighed in pleasure. "It's not nice to hide candy from someone who's living with you."
"Booth," she groaned, "This is exactly..." she leaned forward and with a flash of movement snatched the bag out of his grasp just as his hand emerged with a handful, "...why I didn't. You'll eat them all!"
He chuckled softly as he popped another one into his mouth and let it melt. "Come on, Bones, I'm a gentleman, of course I'd have shared with you. Seriously, though, you weren't even going to give me one?"
She rolled her eyes again, rolling a chocolate ball into her mouth and chewing it. He pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged facing her. The book sat to the side with a bookmark close to the end marking where she'd been interrupted at.
"See, I told you that you'd enjoy those," he said, nodding towards it.
"They are moderately well done," she allowed with a shrug. "The very idea of magic, though, is a complex one with the subtext and the way the plot could be questioned. For instance, if there really were time-turners, wouldn't everyone be trying to get their hands on them and stop terrible things from happening to them, so they could avoid losing people who died or keep themselves from ruining their lives? Why didn't a powerful wizard like Dumbledore receive one so that he could travel back and stop Tom Riddle before he even began killing people? With things like that, when a novel strays into the realm of non-scientific fact, there are so many ways it could be challenged or it could argue against itself in the future. Especially with such a high endeavor as seven books all linked together with specific tie-ins in between them relating all the way back to the earliest chapters to be written."
He stared at her for a moment, blinking. "Right, Bones. Thanks. I'll be sure to... remember that."
She glared at him, and for a moment he wasn't sure if she was teasing or if she was actually upset with him. "Hypothetically," she spoke up, and now her voice had lost that excited thoughtfulness it had possessed only moments ago, "If the context of the world in which this occurred applied to our own daily lives, wouldn't it make sense that one of the largest problems facing society would be the continuous alteration of the past? Yes, time travel isn't possible, and it's foolish to think otherwise, but you have to apply it in the aspect of the world the book is trying to bring its readers fully into. Booth, if you could turn back time, wouldn't you be more desperate to do that, and rely on the ability to go back and rearrange rather than focusing all of your attention on what the future might hold?"
She did really have a point there, although he'd never really bothered to dig so deeply into something he read basically for enjoyment and carefree fun. "I suppose so," he said.
Her eyes were focused off to the side now, no longer meeting his gaze. "It's a complex idea," she murmured softly.
"Hey, Bones," he spoke softly, wanting to reach out to her, but holding back as he continued, "I know there are things you'd like to change... I'd like to change them too, after all. Don't be ashamed of wanting something fictional to be real. Everyone does it, everyone wishes. There's nothing wrong with that."
Her eyes slid to his again, sadness glowing in them, and a bit of worry, as though she wasn't sure he was right. So he'd been correct with his reading of her, and in assuming that she was thinking along those lines.
"Hey," he repeated as her eyes flicked away again, and this time he slid over to his usual spot, moving over a little so he was pressed against her. An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up against him warmly. Her head dropped easily onto his shoulder and he felt her let out a deep breath, relaxing into him. Her body shifted as she turned more on her side and her arms snaked around him as well. Her face buried more snugly into his shirt at his shoulder. Smiling softly, he rubbed a hand up and down her back. She was warm through her thin tank top, and her legs were pressed up against his as well.
Right then, he very much wanted her. It took every ounce of strength to keep his hand tracing smoothly up and down her back without any hesitation or quickness to it. He pressed a kiss to her forehead... her eyes slid closed tiredly, and he could see she was struggling to stay awake. "Sleep, sweetheart," he murmured warmly in her ear, his fingers gently stroking a few stray pieces of hair from where they'd fallen across her beautiful face.
Clearly she was more exhausted than he'd thought, because she didn't argue with him for using that title on her. Instead she just nuzzled up closer to him, getting into a more comfortable position before she finally went still, her breathing becoming gradually slower as she drifted off.
He carefully maneuvered with her against him, and set the Harry Potter book on the bedside table along with the bag of chocolates. Then he leaned back against the pillow and willed himself to relax and fall into the freedom of sleep. He wished he could fall into the cloak of night as quickly as her... he lay for far longer, loving and hating the way she was snuggled up at his side. It was comforting at the same time that it was painful. But he was in control, and she needed him to be exactly what he was to her right now... so he was content.
Eventually, several hours later, with the mocking lights on her alarm clock telling him he was certainly not going to get a reasonable number of hours in before he had to be awake once more, his eyelids stayed shut with no effort, and the darkness pulled him under...
He might have been better off suffering through the remaining hours in the conscious world, though.
"Bones?" his voice echoed, and the emptiness surrounding him was very tangible. He felt exposed, and the bewilderment was making his thoughts spin dizzyingly. It was dark... but then a light appeared as quickly as the thought came to him. He headed towards it, shielding his eyes from it's glare.
He found himself in the lab, with the light coming from above... the moon shone through the skylights. He looked around, and then headed for her office, not bothered that it was dark out. She would be there, he was certain. No one was around, and for a moment the lack of security set off an alarm in his mind, but other than that he came across no difficulty or concern as he reached her door. The office was pitch black, which was odd given the light which should have gone through the glass and lit up at least patches of it...
As he stepped in, his eyes refused to adjust, and he found that he was stepping through mist. He was on a street, and it was still the middle of the night. Not much bothered by the change in setting, he headed for a house that was familiar, his footsteps quickening and his thoughts becoming more panicked as he ran for it. But he couldn't reach it, he couldn't get to the door, no matter how many times he struggled to force himself forward faster... his legs were sinking, weren't propelling him forward... desperation was setting in, as he felt his blood racing through his veins. He didn't know why, but he needed to get to that house, he needed to go through that door...
And then he heard a lone scream pierce the night, and he could almost see her now, hands bound to the bedposts, body marred with bruises and blood drying on her chin, trails of it on her neck. Tear tracks ran all down her face... he shouted her name, screamed it to the winds that carried it away, that were sweeping him away from her... he couldn't get there, he couldn't save her.
He saw the man's face turn with cruel indifference as a hand seized for the gun... no it was a knife, with a twine handle... and he raised it. Her voice was whispering, reaching him even through the haze he was trapped in, calling out to not only her captor but to him as well, the terror in it tearing through him, making his weak legs attempt all the harder to push closer, to stop what was coming...
"Please, no... please... don't..." she begged. A cruel laugh cut her off, a cruel blade sliced down. Both silenced her, the second one forever. He shrieked her name, feeling tears on his own face... he was pulled away, the house wasn't even in his sights, but he could feel it, weighing down on him, holding him captive in every recess of his mind and his thoughts unable to twist away from it. Her face... eyes pleading... and now there was a gag in her mouth, hands bound together over her head... she lay limp, already done, gashes down her arms... dogs barking in the background...
He was in a car, the black door ahead of him mocking as he raced towards it, but dirt collapsed from above, crushing the car down, the wheels ground to a stop... refused to move. The world went dark under the weight of soil and heavy rocks. He banged on the roof, tried to break the glass even though it might mean drowning out there in the suffocating earth...
An explosion hit him, and if it was a refrigerator or a car bomb, or a gun going off, or anything really, he couldn't even tell the difference. He lay, half buried, his arms weakly hanging out, and he saw what he desperately needed laying just out of grasp... a small little hourglass on a chain... taunting him, whispering hope of something he could never have...
His fingers reached, grasped, brushed at it... and then he pulled it towards him, the relief seeping in, the hope wrapping itself around him... but it was suddenly like it was chains instead... as the little hourglass flipped over and over in his hands... and he sank deeper into the ground, one hand trying to claw himself out and the other still desperately spinning the little contraption. But it refused to work... time would not cooperate with him, would not let him into its secrets. He could not save her, he could not reach her this time once more... he had lost her... he'd lost his Bones... he'd failed her...
"Bones..." he whispered into the darkness, despite the fact he was completely alone. "Bones... Bones I'm so sorry," the words slid out one after the other, his name continuing to chant so he wondered if it was in his head, or out loud... "Bones, Bones... my Bones..."
There was a warm something pressed against him... and something hard was poking him in the ribs.
"Booth," a voice whispered. "Booth, wake up."
He jerked up, yanked from that world of terror and loss by the one voice he wanted to hear more than anything at that moment.
"Bones?" he whispered into the darkness, his heart still racing even though reality was slowly setting in and relief was beginning to get its hold on him.
There was a clicking sound, and a moment later he realized it was her turning the knob on the bedside lamp, because it came on in one brilliant blink, and he squinted against it, flashing back to his dream for a brief and horrifying moment.
But there she was, sitting up in the bed next to him, her face all scrunched up as she, too, squinted against the sudden light. Her hair was messy and going in all directions, some of it dangling down and almost touching her nose. She was leaning up against her pillow, propped up on one arm. She was still slightly touching him, but she'd moved farther away to get the light turned on, and now he was missing the contact.
As if she sensed this, she scooted back over next to him, and he sighed in relief as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her tight up against his chest, just reveling in the fact that he could... that she was here with him...
Dream or not, the fear had been quite real.
"Booth?" she said in bewilderment as he ran his hands up and down her back, pressing his face into her hair and breathing in her sweet scent.
Finally he lightened his grip around her and she slid back a little, watching him almost warily with her eyebrows raised.
"Are you okay?" she asked in concern.
"Now I am," he said, sighing softly. A shiver passed through him as he imagined it all being real for a fleeting moment... then he sent the whole idea away, focusing on the here and now, on the fact that she was very much alive here in his arms, as gorgeous and wonderful as ever. He pulled her against him again, and she once more did not resist. But he knew he was going to have to answer the questions he saw gleaming in her eyes soon.
When he released her again, he met her gaze and just stared into it for a long moment, getting lost in the blueness that seemed to swirl at once with darker and lighter flecks of emotion and thoughtfulness.
"I never want to lose you," he whispered seriously. She continued to stare back at him quizzically, not responding or even speaking up to ask him what he was talking about. He continued softly, another shiver running through him as he said it, "Sorry I woke you, Bones. I had an... unpleasant dream."
She nodded slowly, clearly understanding what he was saying very quickly. "Do you... want to talk about it?" she asked cautiously, and he knew she was unsure of herself on this ground. She was echoing back words others, more specifically him, had said to her, hoping it would have a positive effect of comfort on him. "You know I used to have a lot of nightmares," she added when he remained silent. Oh yes, he remembered... waking up in the middle of the night to her screaming or sobbing uncontrollably... completely bewildered about what to do, what would help and what would make things worse. "I still have them occasionally," she continued, "But you helped me make them a little easier to handle. I want to help you now." The determination and concern in her tone and on her face made him smile softly at her. God, he loved her.
"I'll probably have forgotten it by morning," he said carefully, hoping she wouldn't see through the lie. He didn't want to hurt her feelings by making her think that he didn't want to talk to her when she was so ready to help him, but at the same time he really didn't want to fill her in on the details of what he'd just seen and experienced in the nightmare. He also knew he wasn't going to just forget this; it would haunt him for quite some time, of that he was dead certain.
"It is morning," she answered, and he groaned inwardly as he saw the flash of hurt go across her eyes when she said it. He'd upset her by dismissing it, and he hated that. Maybe he could give vague details later, to comfort her.
His eyes sought out the clock, and they stared at the neon green numbers for several seconds before his brain even attempted to process what they meant. It was five forty-five. Well, there went all hope of getting any more rest... not that he'd have been able to sleep restfully anyways. He'd been out of it for just over five hours, and it hadn't been a refreshing sleep, but rather one that almost made him feel more tired than beforehand.
"Come on," she said, bringing him back once more to reality. He realized she was moving away from him, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed. He followed silently as they headed to the kitchen, and when she pointed to a chair he obediently sat down in it, feeling far too exhausted to really bother asking why or protesting against her orders.
He stared blankly, feeling tired but not at the same time and it was leaving him very confused. It was only a few minutes later, when the kitchen filled with the sounds of frying and the delicious smell of eggs, that he got up and went over to her. She was grinding pepper over a pan of scrambled eggs, which were already mixed with an array of vegetables and spices. He was pretty sure she'd added some cheese to the assortment as well.
"Let me help," he said, and she jumped, having not realized that he'd come up behind her. "Sorry," he said quickly, setting a hand gently on her shoulder. "Didn't mean to startle you." He reached around her and carefully removed the pepper from her grasp, setting it on the counter. He would have finished for her, but it seemed like there was already enough in the pan.
"Go sit back down," she told him with a scowl. "I'm making you breakfast."
"You don't have to do that," he protested.
"That's never stopped you from doing something for me. What's the excuse you always use? I want to do it, so just let me."
He shook his head at her, slightly amused by her fiery determination over something so trivial. Then he went back to the chair, deciding that although he didn't really want her to feel she had to do this for him, she would be more upset if he continued to argue about it.
Finally she finished and sat down across from her with her own dish, placing his in front of him. His eyes widened as he took in just what lengths she'd gone to on this. Scrambled egg and fried veggies took up most of the plate, but she'd also made him toast and he even had bacon, which was the only difference between the two of their meals.
"Jeez, Bones... thanks." He dug in, eyebrows rising in amazement at the flavor. "Maybe you should cook on the side, on top of the writing and the... anthropologing."
"That most certainly is not an adjective," she corrected with a frown.
"I wasn't trying to be accurate," he said, the corners of his mouth tugging up as his eyes twinkled at her. "And besides, how else am I supposed to describe it?"
"Being an anthropologist," she said, still looking confused. He just shook his head and chuckled at her.
"Okay, Bones. But seriously, this is really good. It might very well have topped the mac 'n cheese."
She seemed pleased with this comment, because he saw her eyes light up a bit more upon hearing it, and she started eating as well.
They ate in almost complete silence, the only noise being the faint ticking of her wall clock and the rhythmic tapping of his foot against a leg on his chair. A glance from her stopped that, however, and he resumed chewing on a piece of bacon, trying to think of ways to start up a reasonable conversation... one that wouldn't involve discussing how slow work was lately, or the weather... or something else equally bland and boring. He was just about to ask her about Angela and Hodgins, since he actually didn't know when they were going to come back and she might have heard something about it more recently, when she spoke up first, making his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and his train of thought vanish.
"So... you're, um, dream this morning..."
A sigh hissed out, and he looked away. Dang, he'd been hoping to avoid that. But he couldn't deny her the answers she was seeking; she deserved to know, since she always trusted him so much with everything that troubled her. He should do the same, he knew.
"Okay," he started, to show her that he was indeed going to speak about it. He used the few seconds he'd gained through doing so to figure out how he was going to go about discussing it. Should he be completely honest, or should he revert to his earlier plan to be vague? She'd probably want honesty, he thought begrudgingly. "It was... complicated," he began, and he watched as she set her fork down to give him her full attention. He noticed she was nearly done eating, having somehow almost cleaned off her entire plate before him. "I started off in the lab." She nodded, not surprised. After all, he mused silently, she probably dreamed herself at the lab all the time, or she had in the past at least. It made sense to dream someplace completely familiar. "And then I ended up... on a street." Here he hesitated even more than he'd already done so far. How on earth was he expected to tell her the rest of this? But her eyes were urging him onward, and he grated his teeth briefly before speaking once more, forcing himself onwards, "I was running towards... the house. But I couldn't reach it, you know... how it is in dreams and all..." he watched her closely, knowing immediately that she got exactly what he meant when he said the house. She'd stiffened slightly, but a nod from her told him that he should continue with the explanation. He decided to hurry it along, skip all the details, and just tell her how it had all ended. "You died," he murmured in a pained whisper.
From the way her expression didn't change much, he realized she'd expected this all along, probably basing her evidence on the way he'd reacted and spoken to her upon being woken up.
"And then I was trying to get a... time-turner, but it didn't work, because magic apparently didn't exist in the... dream. And I woke up when you called me, and... God, Bones, you have no idea how relieved I was to see you."
Now that he'd relived the dream for her, it seemed much less realistic, but he couldn't shake off the feeling it had given him, regardless of how unreal it had all been when spoken about in the bright and warm kitchen.
Her eyes were a bit clouded, and he just watched her as she processed everything he'd said without interrupting her.
"I used to have dreams like that," she admitted softly, and then she spoke sincerely and he knew she was referring to his recent experience, "I'm sorry, Booth."
He simply nodded to her words, feeling equally sorry that she'd experienced something similar, "You did?" he asked in reference to that, having not expected that from her. He knew quite well she had nightmares, but he hadn't thought them to be about him, but more about what had... happened.
"Back after you 'died' and came back," she said with a sad nod. Her eyes weren't looking at him, but more past him, like she was remembering that time of her life. "It made me realize, spending two weeks thinking I'd never see you ever again, just how awful it would be if you really did die. I'd have nightmares about you getting shot again, or kidnapped, or... lots of things. It was incredibly unpleasant... I think it may have played a part in why I was so... careful around you right afterwards, before you followed my to London."
"You mean that entire week of curt responses and refusing to discuss anything but cases?" he asked, his tone taking a teasing edge to it in hopes of lightening the mood a bit.
The corners of her lips turned up, sending relief through him at the sight of the smile from her, even if it wasn't her usual bright one. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but he knew he'd managed to cheer her up a little.
He was relieved when she turned the conversation away from unpleasant topics and brought it around to what they should have for supper that night, and how they still hadn't fully come up with plans for the weekend with Parker, which was now completely confirmed after a rather lengthy phone call to Rebecca.
She collected the dishes, insisting that she'd take care of the clean-up while he showered, and that way when she finished in the bathroom after him they'd be all set to head to work. With a glance at the clock, he realized that quite a bit of time had passed. It was already very near to six thirty. He sighed, and then complied with her wishes, still annoyed that she wouldn't let him help out with the cleaning. He didn't like the fact that now she was doing more work, after she'd already taken the time to cook him a full breakfast. But he couldn't really argue with her, especially given how determined she looked that this schedule she'd come up with be followed.
He headed to the bedroom, collected his clothing for the day, and then shut the bathroom door behind him and started the process of waking himself up further. The warm shower seemed to help, and afterwards he felt refreshed despite the fact that it was still incredibly early in the morning, and he'd gotten a ridiculously small amount of sleep last night. When he headed back out to the rest of the apartment, fully dressed with only small droplets of water still clinging to the tips of his hair, he found her lounging on her couch, the tv on at a low volume so that it was only background noise, with her nose in the fifth book, the fourth one lying neatly on the table.
Without even meaning to, his eyes slid across the room to where his collection now sat on her bookcase. From the looks of it, she'd been rather hasty in her collection of this latest novel, given that the sixth book had fallen over and the third was titled diagonally. And she claimed they were 'interesting'... Ha, yeah right, she was just as engrossed in the storyline as anyone else he'd ever discussed it with.
"Hey," he said, chuckling as she jumped upon hearing his voice. "Good so far?" he asked teasingly. She rolled her eyes.
"Do you get endless enjoyment out of the fact you were right that I enjoy these?"
"Hm... let me think. Yup." He grinned cheekily at her, to which she laughed and shook her head. A hand strayed towards the table and found her bookmark, which she slid into place before setting the book down next to the other one and her barely touched cup of fresh coffee.
"Okay, I'm just going to shower and then we'll get going." She gestured to the tv, "I'm sure you can find something to entertain yourself. I won't be long anyways."
He took her spot on the couch, snatching up the remote with a slightly-childlike grin before he began flipping through stations. She vanished, and a moment later he heard the door to the bathroom shut softly behind her.
The water turned on, and he attempted to submerse himself into the early morning cartoons rather than letting his mind wander to what his beautiful girlfriend was doing at that moment... and what she looked like.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back in irritation, then raised the volume up more. It didn't really help much, though.
Finally the water turned off and eventually the sound of a hairdryer reached his ears. Good, so she was most likely dressed by now. He found it a bit easier to focus his attention on the show, even though it was almost done and he had hardly any clue what the storyline was about. But he recognized the characters as ones from a show that was one of Parker's favorites. By the time she came out, he was chuckling at the ending just as the credits started to roll to the music.
He turned, still laughing softly, and then abruptly turned back around again. There she was in only a towel, a hairbrush running through her hair. He heard her footsteps head into the bedroom, presumably to get some clothing. He stared blankly at the television screen, unable to get this latest image out of his head. God, did she have any clue at all about what that did to him? Sure, he had to say that it was rather nice how relaxed she was around him, and how far she'd come since the events that seemed eons away now... but still. That wasn't really... jeez. He shook his head and sighed, forcibly pushing the image from his mind and getting to his feet. She'd be ready to go in just a minute, most likely.
Sure enough, she emerged out of the bedroom, fully clothed with jewelry on. She didn't even acknowledge him as she headed right back into the bathroom again. He sighed and dropped back into his seat. Probably putting makeup on...
His gaze went across the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. Then he flicked off the television and, with a glance over his shoulder, scooped up the book she had just started reading and opened it to the page she'd stopped on.
For not having had much time this morning, she was already almost finished the second chapter. He'd have to pull her into a discussion about the fourth book later... see what she thought about the ending. Then maybe tonight they could start watching some of the other movies...
"Ready to go?" she asked, appearing once more, the bathroom now dark behind her.
"Of course," he responded, jingling the keys. She scowled, clearly having planned on being the one to drive. Well, he'd beat her to it, he thought cheerfully. She didn't verbally protest against the circumstances, though, and he was content to rest a hand comfortably on her back as they both made their way out and down to the SUV.
Sorry to any non-Harry-Potter-reading people for all the references. I rather like giving them that as a topic to discuss, though. :)
Well, I'm heading on vacation tomorrow, so I won't be updating for a while. Hope you all liked this chapter, and I'd like to read any feedback you have when I get back. Suggestions are welcome, too, since I'm not ahead in my writing at all.