Spoilers/Timeline: 5x01 Harbingers in the Fountain/Set 3 months post surgery
A/N: Thanks to SSJL for the read through. Also to nicolemack and beatricks for spot checks.
Disclaimer: Bones does not belong to me. Chapter title from the George Strait song of the same name.
Her leg brushes against mine and I suck in a breath, realizing she's nervous. Bones, her emotions always locked behind a calm veneer, is outwardly nervous; I smile at the thought, my own foot tapping impatiently against the linoleum.
"Booth," her leg stops as she turns to me, "it's going to be fine. It's quite common for neurologists to schedule MRIs or PET scans three months post surgery to assess how your brain is healing, to make sure there are no new complications."
"That doesn't make it any less terrifying."
"I know..." She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in worry before powering on. "But you haven't had any more hallucinations, your investigative skills are back to your pre-operation level, you're you..."
The unspoken 'we're us' doesn't slip past me and I grin a little, leaning back against the hard plastic chair. She's right though, we're back. Except....
Except it still takes everything I have not to pull her against me and crush my lips to hers every time we're alone together. Sometimes even when we're not. The feeling is overwhelming, intoxicating. It makes me wish she was ready.
Because I know she's not. More and more often I can feel her reaching out to me - hell, since she's returned she's been to every one of my post operative check ups - but there are still times when I feel her pulling away, unsure if she's really allowed to feel this way.
It's that and the same fear that held me back pre-operation - the fear of losing her entirely - that prevent me from taking the step, from showing her that, yes, I am here and I'm not going anywhere.
The time is coming though. After near death experience number what? Four? Five? I can't keep a tally between the two of us anymore... I know I can't keep waiting. She deserves better. We deserve better.
The door to the room opens and Dr. McBean walks in, large manila folder tucked under his arm and Bones' hand slides into mine, her nails digging into my skin so hard I think she might draw blood.
"Mr. Booth, Dr. Brennan," he nods at us both, pulling the PET scan from the envelope, "everything looks great. If you look at the PET scan..." It's all I need to hear; I don't even glance at the scan (I know what it will show).
Instead, I let his words sink in and stare down at our linked hands. She's loosened her grip, but her fingers remain threaded through mine, her thumb grazing across my skin. Our eyes meet as Dr. McBean reiterates the timeline for subsequent check ups and she smiles, her entire face lighting up. A calm washes over me and I squeeze her hand.
Soon.
We deserve it.