A/N : Sorry, I know it was long... Yeah I love you too lol. But here it is, chapter 21 :D

Chapter 21 : Scars

Brennan jumped into a taxi and quickly told the driver the address of her destination. He was right. Booth was right. She wouldn't be able to move on unless she talked about it. Never. She had to do it. Now. Even if it was late and dark and so cold outside. Because she knew that if she didn't go through with this now, she would never find the courage to do it again.

As the streets were extending before her eyes, she suddenly felt as if she was a child again. The blurred faces of the passersby wrapped in their warm coats, the colourful lights of the shops and cars... For an instant, she thought that she was ten, that her father sat behind the wheel chatting with her mother, and that her brother was sitting beside her. It felt as though for as long as she was staring out the window nothing would wake her mind from her dream. But soon she turned her gaze away. The seat beside her was empty, and the man who was driving wasn't her father.

"Let me out here, please", she said when they reached the corner of the street.

The taxi driver obeyed and stopped. She handed him a twenty-dollar bill and told him to keep the change before getting out of the car.

The street was peaceful and quiet. Most of the windows were dark at this time of night. She walked towards his house, taking her time, as if to postpone a moment that scared her. But this moment was necessary, unavoidable.

When she reached his door, she raised her arm to knock, then stopped, her palm touching the cold surface of the wood. The frost was biting, freezing her easily through the thin clothes she was wearing. Yet, she remained still during long seconds, minutes maybe, staring at the door without really looking at it, for she really needed a moment to screw up her courage and knock.

When he saw her, standing there in the cold darkness with only her shirt and jeans on, the wind softly brushing some loose strands of hair over her cheek and the moonlight reflecting in her eyes, the first thought that crossed his mind was how naturally gorgeous she was. As their gazes met, he noticed something new in her eyes. A mix of fear and determination.

"Bones..."

"Hi Booth." Her shaky voice and chattering teeth made him realise that she was wearing nothing but some thin clothes.

"Bones, whoa, are you crazy? You wanna catch pneumonia?" he softly scolded her and quickly stepped aside to let her in.

"Actually, I won't catch pneumonia by..." she interrupted herself and stepped in as he invited her to, feeling stupid for this was obviously a rhetorical question.

"Come in, I'm gonna find you something to put on. It's like twenty degrees out there. Even kids know they ought to wear a jacket", he huffed disbelievingly.

She assumed he had meant twenty degrees Fahrenheit and sat down on the couch as he disappeared into the hall. While she was waiting for him to come back, she realised that the sleeves of her shirt were revealing the scars on her forearms and wrists. She hadn't exposed them to anyone since the bandages had been taken off. Her fingers slowly followed the marks, trying to get used to them being there. Somehow, it felt like they were her connection to the killer, as if he was still controlling part of her.

When Booth returned a couple of minutes later, the sound of his steps startled her and she quickly pressed her forearms to her body. He sat next to her, handing her one of his warmer sweaters.

"Put this on, okay? I wouldn't want you to catch a cold, although maybe it's already too late", he said with a concerned look.

She turned her forearms away from their protection from Booth's eyes to put the sweater on and raised her gaze when she felt his hand on hers. She realised that he could see them. Her scars. And it was as if her mind and emotions were exposed to him. As though she was sitting naked in front of him, but worse.

He knew it would humiliate her if he looked at her scars curiously, that's why he didn't avert his eyes from hers. He knew she was uncomfortable when she started to look away, but then she decided to allow her gaze to meet his again and she blinked a few times, indicating she had given up bracing herself for his reaction. He slowly took her outstretched hands and pulled them towards him before letting his fingers follow the marks.

What are you doing? Her eyes seemed to say at first, but soon they widened a bit as an unexpected sensation filled her. It was like Booth's gentle touch removed the remnants of the killer's hands on her. A shaky sigh escaped her; she hadn't held it back. She was so tired of holding back.

After a moment he slowly shifted his gaze to her forearms and she watched him looking at them. She was at ease now, relaxed. And as he noticed this, he released her arms.

"What did you do?" she asked in a low voice, thoughtfully rubbing her wrists.

"You tell me", he smiled and she turned her gaze up to him, smiling back.

"You saved me", she replied sincerely.

As an awkward silence was setting in, she finally pulled the sweater over her head with a grateful smile. The softness of the cloth immediately warmed her up.

"Thank you, Booth."

It smelt like him. A deep, soothing, reassuring smell.

"You want me to make some coffee?"

"No, thank you, it's… I'm okay…" She only wanted him to stay put beside her now. And to listen to her.

She somehow felt that he knew and understood, for his eyes seemed to tell her that he was listening, encouraging her to begin.

"When I felt…", she began before taking a deep breath and carrying on, "When I felt the needle in my neck, I tried to turn around and fight, you know. But instead… I fell to the floor… and I understood that it was over. There was nothing I could do; the drug was already in my blood stream. He pulled me across the apartment, I was perfectly aware of what was going to happen next. I don't know what's worse, knowing or not knowing…"

Her voice was low and slightly shaky, yet her tone was even, as if she was trying to banish all emotion. He could see that her eyes were dry, but she was staring into space, somewhere behind him.

"I remember the sound of the water flowing. I dreaded the moment it would stop, because…" She quickly met his eyes as she felt his palm covering her hand. "Because I knew what it meant."

She paused, averting her gaze.

"Then he undressed me. He did it very slowly, talking a lot to me, as if trying to reassure me, which was totally absurd. And then, the sound stopped. He lifted me. I could feel his arms trembling with effort; he was not very strong; I could have taken the upper hand on him if I hadn't been paralysed… Anyway, he made sure not to hurt me when he lowered me into the tub. The water wasn't too cold, or too hot. It was… in some sense, it was perfect."

She shivered, remembering the voice of the man. She lowered her gaze to her lap, feeling uncomfortable to tell all this while looking him in the eye. He was rubbing her hand comfortingly with his thumb, now.

"And then… Then you called. And it freaked him out. He left me alone in the bathroom. I heard the first part of your message. You believed that I was mad at you, but our fight seemed so stupid then." She paused and searched for a way to explain what she was going to say next.

"I… I slipped under water. And I wasn't able to hear the end. Until then, I was sort of hoping that you'd come and, you know, kick open the door, fight the bad guy, pull me out of that- that hell I suppose you would call it… as you always do… But I knew it was too late. You had as much control over the situation as I had. None. There were no signs for you to indicate I needed you to come."

She swallowed. Why was it so hard to tell him the next part? Perhaps because she didn't want him to know that she'd given up. Yes, he would think that she'd given up on him, though that wasn't the case. Logic had told her there was no way for him to know what was happening to her and she was going to die by the killer's hand. How could she explain that she had nearly committed suicide just to grasp the only control she had over her life at that point?

"So then I began inhaling water. It was all I could do. Nothing really mattered anymore, because I only wanted everything to be over."

Booth swallowed slowly, a lump in his throat. She was stronger than he'd ever imagined. Would he have the courage to take matters in his own hands and choose for himself how and when he would die instead of letting someone else, someone he disgusted, decide how and when it would be over? He honestly didn't know. He fought the urge to hold her in his arms, for it was really important that he let her carry on.

"When I felt his hands grabbing me, I sort of thought it was you…"

She let out a shaky breath and when a tear ran down her cheek, she stopped it with her finger.

"… even though I was aware that it was impossible. I started to breathe. But it was his voice again, and his creepy menthol breath." She felt his fingers giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"When he cut my wrists, it was very painful, you know. But it was nothing compared to the moment he left me alone in the silence and the dark. I don't know for how long I stayed in there. I felt so scared… So lonely… Soon, everything became blurred and vague. I remember your voice…"

She sniffed and wiped the moisture from her eyes.

"… although at the time, I thought that my mind was playing tricks to me. When I woke up at the hospital, I thought I was probably dreaming again, that it wasn't reality, that it couldn't be true. And still, when I fall asleep and open my eyes in the morning, I… I sometimes think that I'm imagining reality again, you know? That I'm not really in my bed…"

Her voice broke. Another tear slid down her cheek and dropped onto Booth's hand. He leaned towards her and moved his free hand to her face, gently wiping her cheeks.

"Thank you, Temperance", he whispered. "I know how difficult this must have been."

He guided her head to his chest and stroked her hair. She welcomed the comfort by snuggling up against him, trying to make herself as small as possible so his arms could wrap around her entirely. Then he started speaking, and she heard the emotion behind his words through his chest.

"You know, I decided to go to your place because I couldn't stand it any longer. When I found your door open, I had this feeling that something was really wrong. And when I noticed the clothes folded on your couch, I knew where to go and… and what I was going to find there. When I saw you, I thought you were dead. That it was over. Your blood was everywhere and your face was just- so pale and your eyes were closed. After I stopped the bleeding I lifted you out of the water, you were cold as ice. It seemed like it wasn't you. Like that body wasn't yours anymore. I thought you were gone."

He paused but continued to caress her hair soothingly, as if this was harder for her than for him. For a moment he reeled in the feel of her proximity and sighed in relief. No, she wasn't gone. She was right here. He dipped his head so that his chin was resting on her head. This way he could smell her. Her breathing, her slight movements, her scent… it really was her, safely back in her body.

"And when I was at the hospital, waiting to be told whether you were going to make it, I thought that I had driven too slowly to get to your place, that I had hesitated too much at the door, that I hadn't acted fast enough, that I hadn't done what I ought to keep you safe…"

He paused for some seconds to moisten his lips.

"I thought about all the good moments we'd had. About how good it feels to be your partner and friend. About how stupid our fights are. And how stupid had been this fight, in particular. I thought about all that I hadn't got the chance to tell you."

He swallowed and she looked sincerely in his eyes, letting it dawn upon her how awful it had been for him, as well. Had the tables been turned, she knew the feeling of failed responsibility would have stabbed her in the heart.

"I thought about what the hell I would do if I didn't get you back. And now…"

He placed his hands on each side of her face, tucking her hair behind each ears, and rested his forehead on hers. Brennan closed her eyes, holding her breath unconsciously.

"Now I can't ignore what I thought at that moment, what I felt was left unsaid, undone."

His lips curved into a slight smile and her eyebrows arched a little.

"I know you'll probably kick my ass for this but…"

But when she felt his lips brush against hers, she didn't think about kicking his ass at all. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, caressing his hair as his hands were sliding along her back, holding her tight against his warm body.

In this kiss, they placed all the denial, all the repressed feelings, all that they had gone through. The awkwardness was gone. Hesitations, too. There were no questions anymore, no doubts. Only one certainty: this was probably madness, but it was not a mistake.

A/N : This time I've made up my mind on how to conclude the story, so I can already announce you that, if nothing changes, there will be 2 more chapters. What? When? Uh... As soon as possible? lol