Wow, how about Verdict in the Story? Was that not the most intense, wonderful, beautiful episode ever? I, personally, loved it. And so out came this - a post-ep. Booth angst and, hopefully, good and realistic, hope you enjoy. Please, leave reviews, I love reading even the smallest comments!

And special thanks to my awesomest friend Aly, who was the unofficial beta for this. Thanks, luff!

Words: 1406
Spoilers: Verdict in the Story
Time: After Verdict in the Story
Genre: Angst

EDITED

A knock sounds on the door of his apartment, and he rises, broken from his thoughts. He's still wearing his pants and shirt from the trial, but he's thrown off his jacket and tie, leaving them lying wrinkled in a corner. One shoe is by the couch, another by the sink, and his socks are as bright and patterned as they always are.

He glances at the clock. Midnight. Only one person would knock on his door at midnight.

Sure enough, he opens the door and Brennan is there, looking at him with an almost cautious look in her deep eyes, like she's unsure of why she came. She, too, is still wearing the same clothes she'd been wearing in the courtroom.

Everything seems so long ago. Like so much has happened since they stood together outside, waiting for the verdict.

"Hey," he says, trying to sound cheerful.

Just the sight of her – alone again, outside his door. A fresh spark of pain shoots through his heart, more painful than a bullet. Because this is her, lost and hurting, not just him. He hasn't managed to block out the memories for even a moment.

"Hey," she replies quietly. She looks different somehow, and he can't tell exactly why. "I can't sleep."

"Me neither," Booth says, with a shadow of his old grin. "Want to come in?"

She nods, and he steps aside to let her walk into his apartment. Closing the door behind her, he watches her walk towards the couch and coffee table, unbothered by the mess of clothes. She sits down slowly, hesitantly.

Booth stays on his feet, hands in his pockets. Now what is he supposed to do? In just days, she experienced more than what most people go through in a lifetime. She'd learned and done something she would have never considered before. And it had been him who had helped her, taught her – but at a cost.

How is he supposed to innately know the right thing to say?

"I'm sorry, Bones."

Stupid.

"For what?" she asks, a disbelieving kind of almost-laugh in her voice. "You did what I wanted you to do, Booth. You saved my father."

She doesn't understand anything sometimes.

"Yeah, but see, that's not the point." He sits down beside her, leaving a careful space between them on the couch. He rubs his face in his hands, self-punishing. "The point is that I had to – I had to practically call you a murderer, Bones." He stops, taking in a deep breath. He knows he has to be strong. If he isn't strong, who will she have to lean on if she needs it?

"You were doing your job," Brennan says firmly. "You answered the lawyer's questions without perjuring yourself."

Booth can tell she doesn't even believe her own words. It isn't about just following the rules and doing their duty anymore. He laughs a little, shaking his head. If only things were that simple. A few silent seconds pass; neither of them speak and nothing around them moves. Cars speed by and the wind sets leaves rustling on trees outside, but inside there are no sounds except their tense breathing.

"Thank you." Brennan's eyes meet his, looking grey in the dim light. Her voice is soft, questioning, powerful - all at the same time.

Without speaking, Booth moves closer, taking her roughly into his arms – and she doesn't question it, leaning into him in exhaustion. Booth feels her head falling onto his shoulder, her nose barely brushing his collarbone. There's no need for words. Just like before.

He rests his head on hers and holds her shoulders tightly, desperate and gentle at the same time. They know each other, know what they need, and it's more than any words can say. Each other's presence; the strength and comfort that came from being together instead of alone.

Equals - one and the same.

They're the only people in the world. Or even just her. Her heart and her strength. His Bones, the woman who captured his heart without even trying.

Her eyes close slowly. He can feel her breath tickling his collar as auburn hair falls to cover her face. He brushes a few stray strands away from her forehead, smiling. Sure, she can't sleep.

Looking up at the ceiling, Booth instinctively tightens his arms around her, protective.

Why are there so few times he can do this? Hold her; feel her pressing against his side, comfortable in his arms. It's only when she's confused, because she can control fear, guilt, every other emotion that causes most people to need some sort of comfort.

But she isn't most people; she's Bones.

A tiny feeling of pride begins to stir in him. He knows what she is afraid of, and what she conquered.

She's afraid of her heart; of emotion and feeling. Love, in a sense.

And yet she risked everything out of love for her father, a murderer, a man like so many others they work to imprison. Logic and reason tells them – tells her - that her father is guilty, but she still allowed her heart to win. For once, she did what felt right, not necessarily what was true.

The spark of pride in his heart grows, and he rubs her shoulder, feeling her shift in her sleep. A bittersweet smile and a sigh escapes his lips. She understands – at last - what everyone has been trying to teach her for so long. And out of all the people who've tried to help her, it's ended up being him who's gotten her to make that final leap. He's proud of her for that.

But a part of him wishes that she hadn't had to learn the hard way. The one time she listens and takes his advice is now?

No, she'd listened before. She just hadn't understood. But at the trial?

It was the one time she knew. Knew what he meant, knew what she had to do, and made her decision. Up on the stand, Booth didn't know if he had ever been more proud of her, and yet he had still felt a freezing pain wash over him when he realized what he had to do.

How much heart had it taken her to watch him testify? Had it been as hard for her as it was for him?

No. Because nothing could be harder than what he had done - essentially telling the world that she was a murderer, as close to perjury as he could get. And when he'd looked into her eyes, he'd known he had to do it. It had to be him. She's smart and she's strong. It was part of her plan, her story; the only way to free her father.

Breathing in slowly and deeply, Booth's mind flies back to the present. He takes in the scent of her hair and skin, a mix of dust, faint perfume, and the unique scent belonging only to her.

He can't count on having this chance again. The chance to hold her.

The streets below are quiet at last, leaving no distraction available to his tired mind. The sense of self-punishment washes over him again, because he doesn't deserve this. He betrayed her, when he'd promised her that he never would.

A broken promise and a shattered heart. Right or wrong, true or false, it doesn't matter; he still betrayed her, whether she wanted him to or not.

How can he still deserve her company?

He wishes she had learned to use her heart another time, if only because it would have taken away his pain. The pain of sitting on different sides of the courtroom, the pain of seeing her put herself up as a suspect, the pain of betraying her.

But between his pain and her happiness, there's no contest. He knows it'll take time before he feels whole again; before he feels like he's worth anything again.

But he'll repair himself for her. Because she did so much in just hours. She risked her heart for her father - a murderer walking free, and a good man at the same time. A protector and a man who cared so much he would give up everything to be with her.

The similarities are almost ironic. Booth leans back into the couch, closing his eyes, but knowing he won't sleep.

Maybe she'll risk her heart for him someday, too.