Okay... The final piece. Except - well, it turns out that it's not quite the final piece, because the final final piece needs an unexpected polishing. So, the final final piece will be up Sunday evening. But this should answer the last pesky questions you might have had about this very lengthy fic, and we'll tie it all up in a pretty (though slightly angsty) bow tomorrow. Enjoy!
Between rocky times as a kid with his old man, life in the Rangers, and fighting to get a few hours with Parker every year, Booth had had his share of crappy Christmases. This one definitely took the cake, though.
By the time he and Bones drove down off the mountain and were back somewhere near civilization, Christmas day was almost done. Bones was pretending to be asleep – he could tell because, even though her eyes were closed, her body was still tense, hands clenched the way they'd been when she started her story.
Her story.
Christ.
The Pacific Northwest was pretty this time of year – grey and snowy, the roads empty on Christmas night. Booth wasn't paying much attention to any of it, though. Mostly, he just saw Bones, her story just playing back over and over again while he drove.
He raped me…Kept me with him for most of that morning… I'd taken care of Hector.
He couldn't get the words out of his head. Booth hadn't known what the hell to say when she was telling it. Or do, for that matter. He couldn't seem to do a damned thing to stop his own tears, and the fact that Temperance told the whole thing mostly dry-eyed, her voice dead, only made it that much worse.
How did a person just live with that all these years, and never let it get to her? And if she'd managed to bottle it up all this time, now that it was finally out in the open… What would that do? He thought again of Sweets' words:
She's fighting a war, but it's not the one you think it is.
Had Sweets known? Guessed, somehow? And if he had, why the hell hadn't he said something sooner?
Booth glanced at the clock on the dash. It was twenty past eleven. Christmas lights were up all over the place. They usually brought out the best in him, but tonight they just seemed like some weird joke – dress it up however you wanted, the world was still a pretty dark fucking place.
He drove past a big carved sign welcoming them to Bellingham, Washington, and then went another few miles before he found a strip of motels. He chose the closest one and pulled into the lot. It was raining outside – a light drizzle that made the pavement shine and the Christmas lights blur.
Bones opened her eyes as soon as he stopped the car. She didn't bother pretending she was just waking up.
"Where are we?"
"Motel," Booth said. "I'm beat – we can make the rest of the drive in the morning. Our flight's not 'til tomorrow night. We'll have plenty of time."
She nodded. For a second he thought she might fight him on it, but instead she got out of the Jeep and got their stuff from the back.
Their room was the last one on the end of a block of dingy units, an ice machine just outside the door. Bones stood shivering a couple of feet away from him while he wrestled with the lock. Once inside, he switched on lights while she dumped their stuff on one of two double beds.
"You hungry?" he asked.
She looked at him like the thought hadn't even occurred to her.
"Not particularly. You should order something, though."
The grinding in his stomach convinced him to take her advice. She went to the window and peeked past the ugly drapes into the parking lot. Booth watched her from a few feet that felt like a hundred miles, before he finally got up the guts to go to her. He put his arms around her waist, but pulled away fast when she flinched.
"I'm sorry," he said "I didn't – "
She shook her head. When she turned to look at him, all the distance was gone – that detachment she'd obviously worked so hard to get to while she was telling her story had disappeared. She was shaking, just a little. Her eyes filled with tears.
"Bones," he said. The word came out sounding broken.
"I'm going to shower," she said, looking away before he could see her tears start to fall.
She pushed past him before he could say a word, bound for the bathroom. He stood there, paralyzed. He let her go.
So, on Christmas night in a crappy motel in Washington state, Booth ordered a pizza while Bones went in the bathroom to try to scrub away a memory that Booth knew damned well wasn't going to disappear with a simple fuckin' shower.
Half an hour passed. The pizza arrived; Booth managed to eat a slice before he pushed the box away and went to the bathroom door. He knocked lightly.
"Hey, Bones… You okay in there?"
She didn't answer for a couple seconds. When she finally did with a simple, "I'm fine – I'll be out in a few minutes," it wasn't the words so much as the way she said it that made the knot tighten in his gut.
He tried the doorknob.
It was locked.
"Bones, come on out. Or at least let me in."
She didn't say anything this time. He pressed his ear to the door… Listened to water fall and, beneath that, nothing at all. He took a breath and let it out nice and slow, and then with a subtle little move he'd perfected years ago, he kicked the door just right… It popped open without splintering, though the lock would need to be replaced. That wasn't really his biggest concern at the moment, though.
Right this second, in fact, the last thing in the world he was thinking about was a broken lock.
He pushed the shower curtain back to find Bones sitting with her knees up close to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. The water had long since gone to cold – he reached in without worrying about getting wet himself, and turned off the spray. Her lips had turned blue. She sat there shivering and naked, staring straight ahead, her eyes still dry.
"I'm sorry – I used up all the hot water," she said, through chattering teeth.
"That's all right, Bones."
Her jaw tightened; she wouldn't meet his gaze. He grabbed a towel and knelt by the tub. Brushed the sopping wet hair away from her face.
"It's not all right," she said. Her voice cracked, but she got hold of herself before she broke down. She didn't look at him, her jaw still tensed while she tried to keep control. "I don't think it's all right at all. I think I've ruined everything."
Bones might not shed a tear, but Booth was pretty sure he was about to lose it again himself. Instead, he got the bathrobe Bones had hung on the door and put it around her shoulders. He took her hand and pulled her up, and he kept holding on while she stepped over the side of the tub. Still, she didn't look at him.
Once she was out of the tub, Bones didn't seem to know what to do next – which was maybe why she'd stayed in there so damned long. She left the bathroom and wandered around the rest of the motel room in the bathrobe, hair still dripping, teeth still chattering. She went back to looking out that same picture window she'd been looking out before she took the shower.
Booth went over and stood maybe six inches back. Not touching her. Wanting to – wanting more than anything to take her in his arms, but he didn't know how to do that. Where to start. He cleared his throat.
"You didn't ruin anything, Bones." It came out a whisper. Her back was to him; he could see the way her body tensed when he said the words. "Do you hear me? Nothing's ruined."
He touched her shoulder. Again, just like before, she jumped at the contact. This time, he didn't back away.
"Look at me, Temperance."
A couple of seconds passed, where neither of them moved. Then, finally, she turned around. Her eyes shifted, locking on pretty much everything in the room but his face. Booth cupped her cheek. When she closed her eyes, the first tear appeared. Her skin was cold to the touch. Her lips quivered.
"You didn't ruin anything," he said again, with more conviction this time. "I'm here, baby. You're gonna get through this, and we're gonna be okay."
He pulled her closer, surprised at how relieved he was when she let him take her into his arms. It wasn't until she was safe there, his arms around her, her head at his neck, that he felt her let go.
The tears came.
He steered them to an easy chair in the corner, where he sat down and pulled her into his lap. Outside, he could hear the rain coming down on the pavement and the wind lashing against the side of the building. In the next room, someone was watching A Christmas Carol – Booth could hear Jacob Marley, distorted through the walls. He sat in the easy chair whispering into Bones's ear, rocking her the way he used to rock Parker after a bad dream.
"It doesn't feel like I'm going to be okay," Bones finally said, sniffling into his neck. The front of Booth's shirt was wet from her tears, and he'd lost the feeling in his legs a good ten minutes ago. Still, he wouldn't have moved on a dare.
"I know, baby." He kissed her cheek, her temple, her forehead. "Hey – Bones," he said. "Look at me."
She let him guide her face up, 'til they were eye to eye. Some color had come back to her cheeks, but tears still fell. He hadn't even known somebody like Bones would have that many tears.
"This stuff that you told me tonight…" His eyes watered; he brushed away his own tears, fast. "What happened to you that night isn't okay, Temperance. What that guy did to you… You finally talking about it? I think maybe it's gonna bring up some things that will make it hard to feel okay for a while."
She tensed in his arms, something dark and terrified flashing in her pretty blue eyes.
"I shouldn't have said anything," she said.
He tightened his arms around her before she could get up and push him away again. "I'm glad that you did, though, Bones. This stuff…" He swallowed hard, trying to keep all his own shit out of the way so he could finish this. "You can handle this. We can handle it. I'm not going anywhere."
Another tear leaked out. He pressed his hand to the back of her head and guided her back to his shoulder. They stayed that way until she kissed his neck and pulled back, more in control now.
"We should go to bed," she said.
He tried not to look too relieved. "You sure?"
She didn't look that sure, but she nodded. They got up. Booth stretched a little, until he'd gotten the circulation going again, and they both got ready for bed in silence.
That night, they lay in bed facing each other, close but not quite touching. Bones reached out and touched his jaw, ran her fingertip over the lines of his face like she was trying to memorize every detail. He tucked her hair behind her ear and looked in her bottomless blue eyes.
"I love you," he said.
She nodded. "I know." She bit her lip and closed her eyes. "I'm very glad that you do." She took his hand and kissed his knuckles, but she didn't move any closer.
Booth put his arm over her shoulder, and felt her tense up. He pulled away.
"I'm sorry," she said. Her voice sounded sad – but more than sad, he could hear fear in there. "I don't know why…"
"It doesn't matter, Bones. We'll take it slow. Close your eyes. Go to sleep. I'm right here."
He watched her eyes drift shut, felt her body relax just a few inches from his. They held hands, but Booth didn't try to get any closer again. For a long time, he lay there in the darkness of a strange room, watching over her. Waiting for dreams he knew would come.
Booth didn't sleep much that night.
The next day dawned like God hadn't even invented rain, and it sure as hell didn't feel like the day after Christmas. The sun was shining, the air felt warm and tasted clean. Bones still wasn't quite herself, though, so it was hard to believe all was exactly right with the world. She'd woken after a dream at around five that morning – not long after Booth had just finally fallen to sleep – with her breath coming hard and her whole body clenched like a fist. She wouldn't let him near her. When she'd finally gotten back to sleep at around six, Booth had been too freaked out about accidentally brushing up against her in his sleep and setting her off again, to even think about trying to catch a few more Zs himself.
He got up and took a shower and by the time he was out of the bathroom, Bones was up, packed, and ready to go. In the light of day, he wasn't sure what to say to her. Usually when he didn't know what to say to Bones, he could go with a touch or a hug, wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her close. Now, he didn't know what the hell to do.
They were back in the Jeep and on the road before either of them mentioned anything that had happened the night before, and it was actually Bones who brought it up.
"Thank you for… everything, last night."
He glanced at her, trying to figure out from her expression where she was at and how she was doing.
"You don't have to thank me, Bones. I'm just glad I could be there for you, in whatever way I was."
There was silence for another few seconds. He bit his lip. Glanced her way again.
"So, are you, y'know… Okay?"
She thought about the question for a lot longer than she should have had to, if she actually was okay.
"I think so. The… I am sorry about the sex. Or – well, the lack of sex. I'm not certain why something that happened years ago – something I've dealt with quite well up to this point – should suddenly impact an area in which I've never had any difficulties in the past."
Booth did his damnedest not to laugh out loud at that one. Or cry. Or maybe both. Instead, he scratched his jaw and let out a long breath before he glanced her way again. They were on Route 5 headed into Seattle, and even on the day after Christmas, traffic was backed up in every direction. Bones looked at him in that way she had, with that annoyed frown and the set jaw, because her genius brain couldn't figure out shit that Booth thought was pretty fuckin' obvious.
"I was actually thinking about that this morning," he said.
She looked away for a second, a vulnerable shine to her eyes, hands fiddling with the fabric of the skirt she wore – a blue one that fell just above her knee, showing off shapely calves and delicate ankles. He loved that skirt.
"You were?" she said.
"Yeah, Bones. Like it or not, I'm pretty sure we're both gonna be giving this whole thing a lot of thought over the next few months. It's not something you can just pretend didn't happen, anymore – that's the down side of telling somebody else."
She didn't argue the point. He worried that he might have come off sounding too harsh, but Bones didn't look like she'd taken offense. If anything, she just looked like she was thinking it all over.
"So, are you ready for what I came up with?" he asked, when she didn't say anything.
"I thought that was what you came up with."
"Nah, Bones – that was just the tip of the iceberg." A car ahead of them moved five feet; Booth let up on the brake and they crept forward.
"So… Here's what this is like," he said. He checked to see if she was paying attention. She was.
"Let's say you broke your leg a few years ago, okay?"
"What type of break?" she asked immediately. He actually felt a grin coming on.
"Compound fracture of the medial tibia," he spit right back at her.
Bones eyes widened. "You've clearly researched this theory well," she said, with a hint of a smile.
"I used your laptop while you were in the shower," he admitted. "But I wanted to get this right."
"Technically, the term medial tibia is redundant, as the tibia is situated – " She stopped when she saw the look on his face. "But I'm sure that's not that important in this scenario."
"Pretty much, Bones. Yeah."
She straightened up, and looked at him dead on this time. "All right – so, a few years ago, I had a compound fracture of the tibia. I suppose how this happened would be irrelevant."
"You suppose wrong, as a matter of fact, Bones. Actually, yeah… It does matter how it happened. You were out running up these steps one day and you fell, hard, on the edge of one."
She winced. "And that's how I fractured my tibia?"
"That's how you fractured your tibia. And then, what's worse is, after you cracked your tibia, a bunch of stuff came up and you never actually got any treatment for this compound fracture of yours."
"But that's impossible – I would have had to get some treatment, or I would have been unable to walk. Infection would have – "
Booth held up his hand in surrender. Jesus, she drove him crazy sometimes. "Okay, okay – I take that back. You did get some treatment, but it was shitty treatment. You got somebody to patch it up, and then the rest of it you just took care of yourself."
"What about removing the cast?" she asked.
"You didn't even have a cast, Bones. You got x-rays straight off the bat, slapped on an ace bandage, and kept right on walking."
"But it healed all right? That seems highly unlikely."
"Well – let's put it this way… You didn't die of some infection afterward, and you can walk okay now."
She thought about this for a few seconds before she nodded. "All right. So, clearly I must have done an admirable job of attending to it myself."
"Not so fast," he said. "Because one day you and me go out running, and we start doing wind sprints up the Capitol steps."
She bit her lip once she figured out where he was going with it. "And I fall?" she asked softly.
"And you fall," he confirmed. "So, you tell me, Bone Doctor… What happens now?"
A few seconds passed while she thought about that. "Well… If I hit it in the same place and had never done anything to ensure that it had healed properly the last time, the break could be much more severe this time. The bone would have been weakened in the previously affected areas, thus making it more vulnerable to…"
She stopped. A crease appeared in the middle of her forehead.
"Do you see what I'm saying, Bones?" he asked.
She looked out the window for a long time, until Booth reached over and took her hand.
"Hey," he said. "Do you understand why these feelings are coming up now?"
"You're saying that those emotions triggered after my night in Washington running from Mickey and Philip Taylor are analogous to what I would have experienced had my injuries in Guatemala been physical, rather than emotional."
"And what's more," he said, "while you're recovering from all these old breaks, you might feel a twinge doing things that never used to bother you at all."
She looked at him blankly. "I don't know what that means."
"Sex, Bones," he said with a sigh. "Me being close to you. Holding you while you're sleeping. They might not be the same as falling down on a set of steps, but they work the same muscles."
She thought about that for a while. "That was actually quite good," she said, after a while. "If Sweets used analogies like that, I might be more receptive to his theories."
"But probably not," Booth said.
She squeezed his hand. Laughed a little. "No," she agreed. "Probably not."
It was just past noon by the time they got back to Portland. Booth drove them straight to Portland Presbyterian Hospital as soon as they hit town, as they'd both agreed, and they walked the familiar hallways in silence. Bones stopped at the memorial to Dr. Rachel Martin, another victim of the grisly case they'd solved last summer, and they stood there holding hands for a few seconds, neither of them saying anything.
"I got an e-mail from Abby last week," Bones said. Abby was Dr. Martin's daughter – a precocious foster kid like Bones had once been.
"Yeah?" Booth asked, once they were back on their way. "How's she doing?"
"She just got accepted for a very prestigious program abroad. I'd like to… I offered to help her pay tuition for her coursework last summer, but I think I offended her. She shouldn't have to work this hard, though. To cover the financial aspects of her studies, I mean. I wish I could find a way to help her."
Booth thought about that. "She's too much like you," he said.
"We do seem to have similar temperaments. Though I think I was much more reasonable at her age."
Booth just scoffed at that. She stopped walking and looked at him, offended. "C'mon, Bones – I've heard the stories Russ tells. The way you raked him over the coals? I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but… I'm pretty sure Abby Martin doesn't have a thing on Temperance Brennan at eighteen."
"Well… I just wish I could help her."
"How about an anonymous donation? Or… a scholarship, or something? Get that idiot you pay way too much – Sheldon, right?"
"Selden," she said. Booth just made a face.
"Whatever. The business guy. Get him to set something up for you… Go through her school, just tell them you don't want her to know. She gets the money, doesn't have to know it was you behind it, and it lightens her load just that much so she can keep up with her studies."
"It seems like lying."
He shrugged. "Yeah, well… It is, kind of, Bones. But it's the best I can come up with at the moment."
They'd reached the end of the line – a big, ugly wooden door with a dry-erase board on it and "The Love Shack" written in giant red magic marker letters on it. Booth figured they were in the right place.
"Room 25B," she said, nodding to the numbers on the above the dry erase sign.
"This should be it," he said. She looked nervous. "Did you want me to, y'know… Leave you alone? Maybe it would be better if you went in without me."
He was relieved when she shook her head, without seeming to have to think about it at all. "No. I'd rather you came in with me."
Good. So, that was settled. Bones knocked on the door, then pushed it open when a woman's voice told them to come in.
Booth had to admit, as grim hospital scenes went, this wasn't much of one. Jamie and TJ's buddies Doug and Caleb were all there – Doug in hospital scrubs, Caleb with a guitar in his lap and a drink in his hand, his glasses perched at the end of his nose. Jamie was sitting on the edge of TJ's bed with a coloring book and crayons, and TJ himself – the man of the hour – was propped up with a plastic cup of what Booth assumed was liquor in one hand, and an old book in the other.
The room was filled with flowers and cards and a bunch of silver balloons; the biggest balloon was obviously homemade, and said in flowery, sloping letters, "There's No Cure for Crazy" on the front. Booth didn't really know how to take that.
As soon as they saw Bones, Doug and Caleb were fluttering all over her. Hugs and drink offers and all that other shit that went along with it. Honest to god, Booth, thought, the only thing worse than squints was writers. And at least squints served a fucking purpose.
Jamie came over and gave Booth a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks for coming," she said in his ear. She squeezed his hand. It was only when they were close-up that he saw how beat-up she looked, the worn look in her eyes. Obviously, the past few days hadn't been quite the picnic they were trying to make it look like.
"Glad to see you made it for the party, T," TJ said to Bones. His eyes took on that sad cast when he looked at her, but he kept the smile on his face when he caught Booth's eye. "Thanks for coming, Seeley. It's good to see you."
Booth shrugged. "Yeah, you know… We were in the neighborhood."
"Good to see you, man," Caleb said. He shook Booth's hand, his grip firmer than Booth expected. He was the kind of guy who Booth figured would always look like a student. Until he got a little older, and then he'd probably just start looking like a professor. A little short, a little skinny, thick glasses and crazy hair.
"You want a drink?" Caleb asked. He nodded toward the table with all the flowers on it. On closer inspection, Booth noticed a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bunch of mixers in behind a couple of bouquets of daisies.
"I'm all right," Booth said. "Thanks."
Bones hesitated long enough for Caleb to assume she'd meant yes, and he dashed over to start mixing her a drink.
"This is a record," Caleb said when he handed her the drink. "Two visits in a month. First you're here for that baby shower present, and now this… Life and death, apparently, are the best ways to get you out here."
Bones laughed – kind of a hollow laugh, but a laugh all the same. She took a drink from her red plastic cup, then took a step closer to TJ. "I prefer to stick with scenarios involving life from here on out, if it's all the same to you. And if you promise never to do this again, I'll promise to visit more frequently."
Caleb raised his cup, more serious suddenly. "I'll drink to that. Whaddya say, Teej?"
TJ raised his own cup with a somber nod. "I think I can do that."
Doug excused himself not long after that. Booth took a seat close to the door, Jamie and Caleb on either side of him, while Bones nursed her second rum and Coke in the seat by TJ's bed. It wasn't until Doug was gone that things relaxed… Like everyone had been putting on a face for the rest of the world, but now they didn't need to do that anymore. Bones seemed to notice the change, too.
"So," she said to TJ. "How are you? Really."
"Fine," he said, too fast. Once it was out there, though, TJ's face changed. He softened, just a little. Whatever he'd been through in the past forty-eight hours, Booth was suddenly willing to bet that the writer was a changed man for it.
"I really am," he said, once he saw the doubt on Bones's face. Booth wondered for a second if he should leave the two of them alone. Maybe it was selfishness and maybe it wasn't, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to walk out the door. Right now, he just wanted to stick close to Bones for a while.
"You found out about Philip Taylor and your mother," Bones said.
To Booth's surprise, TJ actually laughed at that. Maybe it was a dark laugh, but it sure as hell wasn't as bad as it could have been, considering the circumstances.
"Yeah," TJ said. "Can you believe it?" He took a breath and let it out, nice and slow. "Admittedly, I could've taken it better initially."
Jamie laughed out loud. Caleb coughed over the words, "Drama queen," and rolled his eyes. TJ got serious; everybody else followed his lead.
"I don't know what I was thinking, going up to the cabin like that. But Jamie came out there with guns blazing, ready to use the jaws of life to pull me out of that fuckin' place…" He sat up straighter. "Of course, by the time she got there, I'd already gone on my little vision quest and decided it was time to pull myself together and get the fuck home, but still…"
"Wait," Booth said, confused now. "You didn't try to, you know…?"
"I was ready to, don't get me wrong," TJ said, before Booth could finish. "I had the note, the booze, the pills. And it was a really eloquent fuckin' note, too. I think I'll use it in my next book. But, I don't know… Something happened up there. I started thinking about everything."
Bones edged a little closer to TJ. Booth suspected she didn't even know she'd done it, but it seemed pretty obvious to him. He felt that old flare of insecurity, but tamped it down the best he could. What it came down to with her and TJ was shared history, Booth decided – even if they hadn't grown up together, it seemed to him that somehow they'd run into the same brick walls as teenagers.
"What changed it for you?" Bones asked the writer. The question came out a little raw – like there was something riding on the answer, for her.
TJ thought about it for a second or two before he answered. "I decided we're better than what we came from," he finally said. Booth felt a lump in his throat at the look on Bones's face when he continued. Like she was taking something from this that Booth couldn't give her, no matter how much he wished he could.
"Whatever shit we've been through," TJ went on, "It doesn't matter who or what we came from, everything that came before now… The best we can do is take all of it, wring whatever disgusting truth we can get from it, and then… Move on. The only other choices are to do yourself in, or let it eat at you over the long haul."
"So, you've chosen to move on," Bones said.
TJ nodded. "Looks like."
Things went quiet for a few seconds, until Booth couldn't stand it anymore. He scratched his head, searching for a way to phrase this in the most tactful way possible.
"So, if Jamie didn't get up there and find you after you'd…" he began.
"Hopped a plane to the great vacation in the sky," Jamie finished for him.
"Tipped one back with St Peter himself," TJ volunteered.
"Shaken hands with the horn-ed devil." Caleb, this time.
Jamie quirked an eyebrow. "Isn't that jerking off?"
"That's the horn-y devil," TJ corrected them.
Jesus Christ. "Why the fuck are you in the hospital?" Booth finally interrupted. "If you didn't try and kill yourself up at the cabin, what are you doing here?"
"The idiot slipped on the ice and hit his head getting out of my car once we were back in town," Jamie said.
"Concussion and ten stitches," TJ said. He tilted his head toward Bones, pointing to a shaved patch at the very back that had been hidden by his pillow before. Bones inspected the stitches, while Booth just rolled his eyes.
Yep. There was definitely nothing worse than writers.
While TJ and Bones and Jamie were getting caught up a little more, Caleb came over and took a seat next to Booth.
"Jamie told me what you did for Teej back in D.C. – going to talk to the Senator like that." The Senator – Senator Woolrich, that is – was Caleb's mother. Somehow, "Mom" didn't seem to fit nearly as well.
"I figured while she was in town, it couldn't hurt," Booth said.
"And it obviously didn't," he agreed. "Though she's been kind of on the warpath since she hit town. You might want to watch your back once you get back East."
Booth kind of chuckled. "Nah. D.C.'s a long way from Portland – I'm sure she's got bigger fish to fry."
"It's not as long as you might thing. She was out there for most of December, and now that she's got her new, uh, beau," he drew the word out, "I'm thinking she'll be there more than ever."
Suddenly, things didn't look quite so funny. Booth turned in his chair, searching Caleb's face for any sign that he was kidding. "TJ said your mother was only in town for a few days – she got there after he'd flown in."
"She was only in D.C. for a few days," Caleb corrected him. "But her guy's got some ranch in Virginia. She stayed there for a couple weeks before she started hobnobbing with greasy politicians."
Booth scratched his head. Things were starting to fall into place – and he didn't necessarily like the way they were falling. He glanced over at Bones; she was still deep in conversation with TJ and Jamie.
"Who is this new man in your mom's life? She mentioned him a couple times while I was there."
Caleb made a face like he'd just gotten a whiff of something long dead. "His name's Charlie Lampole. I can't figure out what the hell a guy like that's doing with a ranch, though – "
"Knuckles Lampole?" Booth asked in disbelief, loud enough for the others in the room to turn his way. He nodded for them to go back to their conversation, and lowered his voice. "Your mother's dating Knuckles Lampole?"
Caleb chuckled a little. "So, I take it you've heard of him."
"Yeah, we've crossed paths once or twice, seeing as how he's one of the biggest mob bosses on the fuckin' east coast. I hope the Senator knows what she's getting into."
Caleb got quiet. He looked over at Jamie and TJ. Jamie had her hand resting on the back of TJ's neck. They were laughing. It didn't look like a possessive move, though; it looked natural, the way it always felt when Booth's hand was at the small of Bones's back. For the first time, Booth remembered that Jamie and Caleb had dated over the summer. Awkward.
"Yeah," Caleb said, pulling himself back to the conversation. "Strangely enough, I think she knows exactly what she's in for. If anything, I think somebody should warn Knuckles."
Booth hung out for a few minutes more before he checked to make sure Bones was okay, and then he excused himself. He dodged questions when Bones asked, but she seemed all right with that – calmer now than she'd been since their talk last night, and Booth didn't know whether that was thanks to the booze or the company. He figured he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, though; if something was making her feel better, he was okay with it.
Senator Woolrich was home when Booth got there. Caleb had given him directions to their place – a big old Victorian with a nice lawn and a wrought iron fence and giant trees in the front yard. It smelled like pine and damp earth, the neighborhood street lined with trees and similar-looking houses. There were no kids playing on the sidewalks and there were no bikes, swing sets, or toys on the lawns. He tried to imagine Caleb and Doug growing up here, and suddenly he had a good idea why they'd turned out the way they had.
He made it halfway up the front walkway before he was met by two big, beefy guys with sidearms visible under badly-fitted sports coats. Neither of them looked like they had much of a sense of humor.
That was good. Booth didn't feel much like laughing, himself.
"I'm here to see the Senator," he said.
The larger of the two guys – a man with a block head on a rectangular body, thick eyebrows and thin lips – stepped in Booth's path.
"She's not receiving guests right now." He had a thick Jersey accent, and he spoke the words without a trace of irony. In general, though, Booth was pretty sure irony wasn't a concept this guy was acquainted with.
"She'll want to see me," he said, and he kept right on moving until he was chest-to-chest with Blockhead.
They met eyes for maybe a split second before Booth brought his forehead down, hard, and caught the man on the bridge of his nose. Blockhead fell to his knees; Booth whirled on the other guy – a bottle blonde who looked like a mobster posing as a surfer – and had the man's gun out of his hand before he'd gotten the safety off.
"Tell Knuckles he needs to start investing a little more in his security detail," Booth said. He emptied both guns, pocketed the cartridges, and handed them back. All told, the whole scene had taken maybe three minutes.
Rebecca Woolrich was in her study – a library that smelled like leather and old books, with wood beams and old… everything. She had a drink in her hand, and she didn't look all that surprised when Booth walked through her door.
"Would you like a drink, Agent Booth?" she asked. Her voice was smooth, low. She wore a pale pink business suit with no shoes – apparently, this was what passed for casual in the Woolrich home.
Booth knocked the drink out of her hand and advanced on her so fast that she had to either take a step back or get bowled over.
"If you ever go near my partner again," he said, anger clenched so tight that his chest felt like it might explode, "your mobster boyfriend and every goon he could hire won't be enough to keep me from coming for you."
Her eyes widened, but he could tell she wasn't actually afraid – it was just more playacting, from a woman who'd spent her life perfecting the role.
"I'm afraid I have no idea what – "
"Don't lie to me." Booth took another step forward and she took another step back, until she was backed against a wall of bookshelves. Her pupils were wide, but Booth had a good idea that fear was the last thing causing the reaction.
"I'm afraid this isn't so much intimidating as stimulating, Seeley," she said, smooth as ice. "You and I both know that a man like you doesn't resort to physical violence where ladies are concerned."
He stood there, immobile, trying to push himself to make a move. "I know you trashed my partner's apartment to set TJ up, so we'd toss him in jail and he'd stop nosing around about Alan Wright's murder."
She smiled. He could smell her perfume – flowery and too strong – and the gin on her breath. They were just inches away; he'd never seen the Senator look happier.
"Those are some bold accusations, Seeley. Do you have any proof of that?"
He thought of all the scumbags he'd willingly beat to a pulp to keep Bones safe. Of all of them, he figured the Senator probably ranked among the worst, but… Over the years, Booth had crossed a lot of lines he'd drawn in the sand for himself. Somehow, though, violence against a woman – no matter how evil she might be – still wasn't one of them.
He backed up, and let her go. His eyes were hard, his heart beating fast. The Senator just kept smiling, like she was well aware of the fight raging in his head.
"Everybody knows now that Phil Taylor was TJ's father," Booth finally said.
She shrugged. Her eyes hardened just a little, though, which told Booth he was on the right track.
"That hardly affects me," she lied. "If anything, it just makes me look more sympathetic – the poor, unsuspecting wife of not only a serial killer, but a philandering one at that."
"If that was true, I wonder why you were so hell-bent on getting TJ to back off, then," Booth mused out loud.
She turned to pour herself another drink. Booth didn't stop her.
"Here's what I think, Senator," he said. She turned around, stirring her drink. Her eyes had gone cold. Apparently, this wasn't as much fun as the promise of violence had been.
"I think you were having an affair with Alan Wright. And I think all four of you – Phil Taylor and Janine Wright and your writer boy, Alan – were into some pretty kinky games. It was the eighties, right? A little coke, a little swingin'... No harm, no foul. Phil and Alan rule the campus, you and Janine keep the home fires burning. Except something went wrong, and somebody convinced Janine that the only way to make it right was to put a bullet in Alan's brain."
"And I ask, again," the Senator asked, "Where is your proof? You've concocted some sick little fantasies, but – "
"That's the beauty of sick little fantasies, though," Booth interrupted. "I don't need proof – it's not like we're going to court with any of this shit, are we? All I need to do is plant a couple of seeds in the right reporters' heads, and they'll start digging. I think you and I both know that, once they do, some secrets are gonna come out."
For the first time, he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. She took another drink, a faint tremor in her hand making ice clink against the glass. She set it down.
"Leave Temperance Brennan alone," Booth said. "Leave TJ alone. Do whatever you want with your new boyfriend, take over the fuckin' Senate for all I care… Just don't go near my partner again, and none of what I just said ever leaves this room."
He turned around without waiting for her to come up with an argument. He was almost to the door when Knuckles Lampole appeared. Knuckles looked like he'd come straight from a Sopranos casting call – big gut, overly greased hair, a ring the size of a ping pong ball on his right hand.
"You okay, baby?" he asked the Senator. The mobster stood in the middle of the doorway, blocking Booth's exit. Blockhead and the Surfer were standing behind him.
"Let him go," the Senator said from behind Booth, to his great relief. "I'm fine. We just had a little talk."
Knuckles didn't move for a second, thinking it over for himself until the Senator said, "Let him go, Charlie."
Knuckles stepped out of the way; his hired goons followed suit. "You doin' okay, Seeley?" he asked. They'd run into each other more than once over the years, but it still made Booth a little uneasy that Lampole knew him by name.
Booth shrugged. "Some days are better than others."
Knuckles kind of laughed as Booth walked past. "Ain't that the truth."
That night, Booth and Bones were back in D.C. by midnight. They spent the night at his place, since the idea of facing the hurricane that was Casa Bones was a little beyond both of them. At least, that was the story Booth gave Bones. The fact was, he had his own reasons for keeping his partner on his own turf for a few more hours; he just couldn't let her know that.
It had been an intense few days, without much down time or space between them (other than that whole hostage situation thing, but Booth didn't really count that as personal time). Once they were back at his place, Booth grabbed a beer and settled on the couch with Sports Center. Bones stood in the doorway in his t-shirt and boxers, looking like she couldn't decide on her next move. She'd slept most of the flight back, and Booth found he was having a hard time figuring out where her head was at after her visit with TJ.
"You wanna sit, Bones? You're starting to make me nervous."
"Sorry. I – I'm just not really in the mood for television." He reached for the remote to shut it off, but she shook her head. "No – you go ahead. I just thought I would go to bed and read for a while."
"Yeah, Bones, of course." He felt that uncertainty he'd felt when they'd first started dating, trying to figure out what she wanted without actually coming out and asking. "I could come with you, if you want."
She shook her head. "No, that's all right."
It came out fast enough that he could tell that him coming to bed with her was pretty much the last thing she wanted. He tried not to be hurt by that. All she needed was a little space, he told himself. Really, it was the last he could give her.
"Okay, then – I'll just finish watching this, get caught up on the scores. I'll be in in a while."
She went to bed without kissing him goodnight. He watched the bedroom door for a while, until the light at the bottom of the door went off about a half-hour later. Booth ended up dozing on the couch, flipping channels. Trying to work himself up to going in there.
It felt like all the rules had changed since she'd told him about Guatemala. When he could touch her. Where. How often. How long. Hell, the whole thing had happened years ago, but it felt to Booth like this was anything but an old wound they were dealing with. And what was worse, he kept replaying every time he and Bones had been together before: times when he might've been a little too rough, said something or done something or touched her in some way that might have reminded her of what happened in the jungle that day.
Sleeping with her all these months, making love a hundred different ways… How had he never seen this? Glimpsed some sign of what she'd been through?
Booth ended up falling asleep for good at around three, still on the couch with the TV on. He dreamed of jungles and explosions all night; in every one of the dreams, Bones was just around another corner. Always just out of reach.
When he woke up, his back was sore and his neck was stiff and somebody had turned off the TV. Bones had left a note on the fridge.
Gone for a run. Back with breakfast. – Love, Brennan
It was seven o'clock. The city was back at it already – it always made Booth a little sad how little time people actually took out for Christmas. He took a shower and shaved and, because he was tired of feeling like crap and because, damn it, this was going to be a good day, he put on his favorite old Christmas CD – Bing Crosby.
By the time Bones got back, Booth was dressed and hungry as hell, Bing still crooning, the kitchen clean. She had muffins and coffee and a big egg-bacon sandwich thing from the shop on the corner, which made him love her just a little more than he had before, if that was possible.
"Good run, Bones?"
"Very good run." She set the food on the table. He got out plates and silverware. "I would have woken you, but I know you haven't been sleeping well." She took a drink of her coffee and looked at him over the edge, a hint of uncertainty in her blue eyes.
"You didn't come to bed last night," she said. The way she said it, trying to sound casual, made him realize he'd made the wrong choice by giving her space.
"Yeah... I fell asleep. Sorry, Bones." He reached across the table and took her hand, tangling his fingers with hers. "I just knew you were beat, and I thought… I didn't know if you might need some space."
"Oh," she said. She thought about that for a second or two. "I didn't, actually. Need some space, I mean. If I had, I would like to think I just would have said…"
" 'I need some space'" Booth guessed.
Instead of looking pissed, she just smiled at him. She lifted her eyebrows, like she thought he was kind of an idiot, but she wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet.
"So, in the future," she said, "if either of us doesn't know what the other one is thinking, or what they want, it seems to me that it would be more logical to just… ask."
Booth scratched his neck. "That does seem pretty logical, Bones."
"We could try that game Tripp told you he used with his wife – "
"One question, no holds barred?" Booth asked.
She nodded. "Exactly. That way, we eliminate the guesswork."
"Very practical, Bones."
With that settled, Booth's eyes drifted to the clock on the microwave. It was eight-thirty. Shit. He hopped out of his seat, almost capsizing his coffee in the process.
"That twenty questions thing is gonna have to wait, though. We've got places to be."
He pulled Bones out of her seat in a reflex gesture, something he'd done a hundred times before without really thinking about it. As soon as he realized what he was doing, his stomach dropped and he pulled away.
Before he could get too far, Bones grabbed his shirt and pulled him back – none too gently, either.
"Stop doing that," she said.
"I'm sorry, Bones, I didn't think about it – "
"Not that," she said. And there it was again – that Booth's-an-idiot look. A guy could get a complex if this kept up. "Stop treating me as though something's changed. What happened in Guatemala didn't take place last week, or last month, or even last summer."
She took a step closer to him, until they were toe to toe. He could smell the sweat on her skin, the coffee on her breath, the faint scent of her shampoo. Her cheeks were pink and her hair ponytail was coming loose, and he thought she'd never looked prettier.
"I'm all right, Seeley," she said, holding his gaze.
Booth felt a little rush of emotion he wasn't prepared for. He ducked away when he felt himself start to tear up.
"It kills me to think of anybody hurting you the way they did," he said. He choked on the words, still trying to hold it together.
"I know," she said. She worked up to a smile, her own eyes glistening just a little. "But what happened then doesn't change the way I feel about you. I think that to some degree you may have been right about this being analogous to a bone break – "
He started to step back, realizing for the first time just how close they were, but she grabbed hold of his arms and held him where he was.
"… But you weren't completely right," she said. "It's an old break, Booth. Healing has taken place, to a significant extent. We might have to go slow for a little while, but it doesn't change anything. I won't let it."
He wrapped his arms around her and, when he didn't feel any resistance from her, held on tight. For just a second, he let himself go – let tears fall for who she was and where she'd been and for the fact that somehow, through all of it, she'd decided to risk it all and love him.
"I love you, Bones," he said into her neck.
She pulled back, and put her hands on either side of his face. Wiped the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs, studying his eyes the way he'd seen her study bones whose mysteries she was trying to unlock.
"I think we're going to be okay," she said.
God, he'd love to believe that.
She let him go and sat back at the table, leaning back in her chair. She looked more relaxed than he'd seen her in a while. "Now… You said we had somewhere to be?"
"Huh?" he asked blankly, still trying to pull himself together after what seemed lately like a nonstop emotional rollercoaster.
"A few minutes ago – you said we had to go. I thought we had the day off, but…"
He came to, swiping at his eyes as he realized that time was passing them by.
"Shit! Yeah, Bones. We have to go – I promised Parker we'd come get him and take him to visit Dani – she's got one more day in the burn unit. And I figured we could stop in and say hi to Sweets while we're there."
"I thought we weren't picking up Parker until this afternoon – his Christmas gift is still at the apartment. And we need to pick up Dosha from Hodgins and Angela… I'll need to stop by my place."
He shook his head, fast, before he gave any of his plans away. He pulled her up and turned her around, this time without hesitating, and gave her a little push toward the bathroom door.
"Don't worry about it, Bones – I already talked to Angela about Dosh, they're all set. You've got whatever you need to get you through the morning here, and you can get Parker's stuff once we get to your place this afternoon."
She turned around just before she hit the bathroom. "Booth, we can't bring Parker to my apartment – it's complete chaos there."
Oops. "Don't worry about it," he said, smooth as ice. "Bones, just get in the damned shower, okay? We'll figure it all out later."
And, for once in her life, Bones didn't argue. Booth's faith in Christmas miracles was restored.
TBC
Tune in Sunday night for the final word from Brennan on how she's handling all this angst of late, and a lovely Boothy Christmas surprise. In April. 'Cause that's how we roll, here in fic-land. Thanks for reading, you guys; you're the best! - Jen