Title: A Dangerous Aficionado

Disclaimer: I can only dream…

Rating: M for sex, language and probably violence. I'm a violent person. Ha!

A/N: Woo! I am so loving the reviews! I am glad you're liking this. I hope I can maintain the pace until the end.

What She Gives

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I cannot sleep.

I turn uncomfortably on Brennan's sofa, pulling the afghan to my chin, staring at the twisting greyed shadows on the ceiling above my head.

From her bedroom, a soft melodic tune that reminds me of islands and palm trees plays. I have grown used to the sound of music in Brennan's apartment. Especially a night. These nights. She says it helps her sleep. I don't mind. Normally it doesn't bother me. But tonight is different.

She cried tonight. I hate it when she cries. Normally she doesn't. Ever. But she released a torrent of withheld fears tonight. As though all her thoughts had been building up until she was literally consumed by them. I didn't quite know what to do. I half expected her to shove me away whenever I embraced her. But she did not. She clung to me. It made my brain whirl into action as I automatically wondered what it meant.

She reached for me. She allowed herself to cry and I ask myself continually if she wanted me to comfort her. I like to believe she did.

I promised her I would keep her safe. She said she knew I would do everything within my power but that, I of all people should know human power sometimes isn't enough. I should know this, but lying here, I have convinced myself I am invincible. I am, because I have to protect her.

When she cried, I knew then how important it was that she be protected. I knew then that I would do anything to ensure she was. If that meant taking a bullet from the lunatic that watches her, then I would. This knowledge scares me. Not because I am afraid of guns, I carry one, for Christ's sake. I am afraid of what this means for my feelings. Do I feel something towards Brennan that even I have not yet realised? Or have I realised and I am not willing to accept?

I throw my emotions backward and forward, theorising… until I am too tired even for sleep. I kick off the blanket, padding across her apartment, into the kitchen where I pour myself a glass of water. Back in the living room I stare out her window at the road below. While I continue to mentally torture myself, I listen to Brennan's music, drifting through the air seeping into my mind. She has so many CDs filled with World Music. I am starting to quite like the one from Shanghai that she took from her car earlier in the week. She's played it three nights in a row. I know this track by heart. Any second now, a strange little stringed instrument will be introduced.

I wait on it. But I hear only the muffled sobs. My body freezes and I wonder what I ought to do. I thought she'd cried all she needed to. But apparently there was enough frustration inside to carry a fresh bout of bedtime tears.

I set aside my glass of water, my footsteps silent as I move to her bedroom door. The gap is small, but I glance inside, my eyes adjusting to the darkness within. She's buried beneath her bedcovers, her nose pressed against her pillow. I hear the strangled gasps she takes, trying to be silent.

My chest constricts as she mumbles into the cotton, I wonder if she's praying. Only Brennan doesn't believe in God. She doesn't believe in any religion except science. Maybe she's praying to find strength within herself. I know how she hates feeling as she does.

I ease the door open, slipping into her bedroom, breathing in the scent of her. I have only been permitted entry into this floral haven a twice since I began to stay. She's intensely private about her bedroom and I know I should respect that, now. I should ask from the doorway is she is okay. But I gamble, risking her wrath. At the edge of her bed, I pull back the covers, sitting on the edge. She starts, a gasp falling from her chest.

"Booth!" She cries, when she realises it's me. Her exclamation is punctuated by a cough, and she reaches for me, her arms around me, her fingers in my hair. I cradle her against me, wondering at how my heart feels something it never has before. Temperance Brennan is more than just my fucking partner and I am not sure I can emotionally accept the consequences. But instead of pulling away, like I should, my fingers sink into her hair, curving around her skull.

The track on her CD changes.

She looks at me, her face illuminated by the whitish glow from the stereo's digital numbers. Her eyes are wide, rounded orbs and she looks as though she is either horrified at what I am doing or excited by it. Or she hasn't decided yet. Either way, she says nothing. Her lips tremble a little, her breathing comes in sharp, suffocated gulps and I am quite astounded by how I want to fill her lungs with oxygen. How I want her to breathe again.

"It's alright…" I say, but she shakes her head, furiously. My hand falls away and silky stands fly about her face. Whipping at her cheeks.

"It's not alright, Booth," she says, dropping her hands from my shoulders, digging into the cotton beneath us. "I should have listened at the beginning… when I received that first damn letter." My hand falls over hers, and after a few seconds her fist relaxes and our fingers entwine. I rub my thumb over her knuckles, noticing how her breath catches in her throat. She looks down then up, her eyes meeting mine in the murky darkness. I see how the light catches the teary sheen that covers her irises.

"You're too strong to admit defeat just like that," I assure her, lifting my free hand, brushing aside a sleek strand of hair from her forehead. She doesn't move. "Your ability to maintain a fearless stance, Bones, is admirable, if it weren't foolish sometimes." She nods, shifting on the bed. "Are you alright, now?" I ask, slipping my hand from hers. She nods again. "Okay well, you should sleep then." When I move to get up, her fingers encircle my wrist, tight, warm. I stiffen, our eyes meet again, and this time it is different.

"I am not coming on to you, or anything," she says quite softly, "but would you stay?" I am overwhelmed by how nice it is she would ask. When she shuffles across the bed, I slip beneath the covers and she burrows into me. It feels like we're meant to be here. Like we've been doing it for all eternity. It seems as though she fits against my side, her head tucked beneath my chin.

I wish she was coming on to me. But for now, I will take what she gives and be grateful.