A/N: Special thanks to everyone who pointed out to me that this was in the wrong place. I wish I'd realized that sooner. Now everything should make perfect sense, and if you haven't read the correct chapter 19 yet... please do that.
Alright, I think you will all enjoy this chapter. Just... understand that the thing that is going to upset you is totally and completely necessary. I promise. And... we are not in the clear yet. There's still plenty of angst yet to come. Song for this one is Make This Go On Forever by Snow Patrol. If you haven't looked up a single song from this story... then I'm telling you to look up this one. It's beyond addicting, and typing to it is just... heaven. It really is. Can't get enough.
Chapter 20: Make This Go On Forever
Please don't let this turn into something it's not
I can only give you everything I've got
I can't be as sorry as you think I should
But I still love you more than anyone else could
All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight
Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right
This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long
Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong
The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love
We have got through so much worse than this before
What's so different this time that you can't ignore
You say it is much more than just my last mistake
And we should spend some time apart for both our sakes
July 2nd, 2018
When her eyes slowly drifted open, the first thing Brennan became aware of was the fact that something smelled delicious. Pancakes, she identified as she groggily pushed herself up into a sitting position and observed her surroundings. The past few weeks rushed back as she was forced to accept the fact that she was indeed crashed on the fold-out couch in the middle of Booth's living room.
Now this was not a picture she had ever envisioned.
"Morning," Parker said casually as he roamed into the room, nodding to her and biting into a piece of toast. "Can I..?" he pointed to the television.
"Oh, of course!" she said at once, waving him forward and rummaging her hand over to the end table to get the remote. She tossed it to him, and he caught it easily, flipping it in his hand and pressing the power button. The screen lit up, and he dropped heavily into the armchair, still chewing.
"Dad's making breakfast," he stated obviously.
She nodded, and then glanced quickly at him before she tried to inconspicuously sort out the tangled mess of hair on her head. She realized she must look like a disaster in her baggy pajama pants and t-shirt with no makeup or anything. She didn't want to imagine what she would look like once she got herself to the bathroom to check in the mirror, and while she didn't consider herself to be a vain person... she was still aware of it.
With that thought in mind, she scooted to the side of the bed and slid off, the soles of her feet hitting the soft carpet warmly. She was used to finding cold hardwood, and it was a nice difference.
"I'm just going to..." she trailed off as Parker waved understandingly, taking another large bite of his toast.
She could hardly put on makeup or hop in the shower to improve her appearance, so she settled for running a comb through her hair and fixing her nightwear as best as she could. Her belongings were out in the other room, so maybe she could just go grab something decent for the day, and get changed...
"Bones?" Booth's voice called, his footsteps coming down the hallway towards her. She had to admit, she was already getting used to the return of her nickname. And she enjoying it far more than she planned to admit. At simply the sound, a warm smile spread across her face, and she just stared contentedly at her own reflection for a long moment before the sharp rapping on the doorframe brought her back to reality. "Bones?" he repeated.
She gave her hair one last once-over, and then turned and opened the door.
Booth's hand was poised to knock again, and it stayed there for another second before quickly dropping. "Hey," he said, a tentative twinkle in his eyes. "...How about some breakfast?"
She couldn't help but grin back. "It smells delicious," she informed him as she stepped back out into the hallway, leading the way.
"Aw, you can smell that?" he asked teasingly. "There goes my surprise..."
She laughed and bumped him in the shoulder.
"Save some for me!" Parker called, pushing himself out of the chair and following suit as they all gathered in the kitchen. Booth dug in the cabinets, pulling out three actual plates—not the paper he seemed to be living by—and passed them out. An oversized stack of pancakes sat on a dish in the center of the table, and even from her position she could see he had taken the time to make different kinds. The ones on top looked like blueberry, and she could distinctly smell chocolate and see the smearing from bananas on the large frying plate he had used.
"You didn't have to do this," she said softly as Parker occupied himself with the search for orange juice in the fridge.
"I wanted to," he assured gently. "Besides... I was up early, and I had nothing to do. I figured you might like something to eat."
"Still," she said, her eyebrows raised as she again glanced at the ridiculous amount of food on the table. "It's a lot." When he again shrugged her off, she bit her lip and glanced down at her dish, taking the orange juice carton from Parker and filling her own glass in the following silence. She wanted to thank him, but he was already speaking by the time she had worked up the voice to say it.
"So, any plans for today?"
"Actually," she said, chewing her bottom lip for a moment and stalling, "I was heading over the Jeffersonian. I have... asked for my position back, in some capacity at least. I just... I don't think I..." she sighed and started over. "I need something to keep me occupied, Booth."
"I get it," he assured. "And... I'm glad. That you're going back to work." He grinned crookedly. "To be honest, I didn't think they were going to be able to cope without you..."
She raised an eyebrow. "They are perfectly capable. After all... I kept them in line for years."
He laughed. "Cute, Bones. The sad part is... most of them would probably have to agree with you on that. Even Cam knows that she wasn't the real boss in that lab."
"Yeah, well... we were always the center."
"That we were," he agreed softly.
Parker pulled out a chair from the table, and it scraped loudly across the floor, making her jump slightly. Booth smirked, and she punched his shoulder in light indignation, sweeping past to claim herself a spot next to the teenager.
"Hungry?" he teased as she piled three pancakes onto her dish, leaning across to claim the maple syrup.
"Maybe," she said with a shrug. "Although I haven't tasted it yet, so I'm not sure how long my appetite will last."
He took in her raised eyebrow and quirked smile. "Cold, Bones. That was very cold."
"Hey, you're the one who picks on your own cooking all the time." She cut a piece off of the top pancake and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully and then letting out a soft sound of disbelief. "These are some form of take-out, aren't they? Delivery pancakes?"
"Nope," he gloated. "Made them myself. From scratch."
"Yeah right," she scoffed, taking another large bite and groaning in amazement. He'd somehow gotten them to taste buttery in addition to having a slight, warm crunch. Unbelievable. Damn him and his unrelenting talents. Was there really anything he couldn't do?
"Want to see my recipe?" he challenged, pushing away from the table as though to actually fetch it for her to validate.
"No, the disaster over there is proof enough," she assured, nodding towards the flour-coated counters and the overflow of dirty dishes and pans in the sink. To give him some credit, though, most of them seemed to have been from the past week. Although, if she pointed that out, it would hardly sound like a compliment. His kitchen was in need of some major readjustment.
Maybe she could help him with that, with cleaning up and keeping track of things...
But then the reality crashed down again, and reminded her that she was planning on booking a flight today, when she got to the lab. And she hadn't told Booth yet.
He would be fine with it, though, she assured herself for what must have been the hundredth time since last night. She needed to spend some time outside of DC. She needed to reconnect with her father. And she needed to give Booth the opening, to let him know what she wanted for them... so that when she came back, he could make the right decision. She didn't want him going along with her wishes just because he wanted to agree with her and make her happy. She wanted him to do it for so many more reasons than that. A week away would do that, for both of them.
He would understand.
He would.
Now, if only she could make herself tell him.
"Hey, I cooked. Which means Parker cleans."
Parker gaped at him indignantly, and Brennan cut in, "I'll help, obviously."
"You're our guest," Booth protested.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean anything. I should be able to help out if I want to. I'm not incompetent just because this isn't my own home."
"But—"
A sharp knocking on the door interrupted their debate, and the three of them glanced from face to face, confusion evident all around.
"I'll get it," Parker said at last, still frowning as he set down his fork and pushed out his chair.
Booth craned back in his seat to watch around the corner as Parker headed to the door.
"Who is it?" Brennan asked curiously, her position not giving her any visuals.
Booth let his chair drop back down as he turned back to face her, picking up his fork. He smiled, but declined to answer with a shake of his head. Her frown deepened.
But then Parker came back around the corner, leading a girl about his age, with dark brown hair and dainty glasses perched on her nose. A smatter of freckles fell across her nose, and she had vibrant blue eyes.
"Oh, you already have company," she said as her gaze landed on Brennan with surprise. "I'm sorry."
"Clara, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan. Bones, this is Clara Hayes—my girlfriend."
"Oh!" Brennan said, realization dawning as she made the connection. This was the same girl who had been planning to go to England for the summer. If that was the case, though, she shouldn't be back by now. "Nice to meet you," she reached out and they shook hands briefly. Her gaze, though, strayed to Parker, hoping for an explanation. She didn't want to assume that Clara had been to England if she had not, and she didn't want to bring it up if it was a taboo subject for the couple.
"Clara just got back from her trip abroad," Parker filled in, reading her questioning gaze correctly. "She came home early," he added, grinning.
The girl shrugged. "I learned a lot, but it wasn't the same. And... I'm glad to be home."
"Grab a seat," Booth said warmly, gesturing to the open chairs.
"Oh no, that's—"
"Please, I made more than enough," Booth insisted.
"I was just... oh, alright," she sighed, her mouth twitching up at the corners. Parker grinned as he pulled out her chair for her. She glared, apparently offended by the implication that she couldn't have done so for herself, but she was still smiling as she settled in. A plate put in front of her, she hesitantly took a banana and walnut pancake for herself.
"Do you two have plans for today?" Brennan asked, dabbing at her syrup-sticky lips with her napkin.
"I was actually dropping by to surprise Parker," she said, glancing at her boyfriend. "I only just got back. We've got a lot of catching up to do."
If it was possible, his grin got wider. She suddenly saw a lot of his father in him. And a lot of the way Parker was looking at Clara... reminded her of the way Booth had always looked at her. A twist pulled at her gut, a mixture between warmth and pain.
She fully intended to move forward with Booth. But still, she couldn't help but be terrified of hurting him. And knowing just how much he cared for her made her all the more conscious of how capable she was of causing him pain... while at the same time it made her feel like she was floating on air.
It was a risk she was going to have to take. Angela was right, about everything.
"What?" Booth said suddenly, tilting his head to the side and studying her.
"Huh?" she frowned, her attention returning to the conversation she hadn't been listening to.
"Nothing, you were just... looking at me funny."
"Oh." She felt her face flush. "I just... spaced out for a second."
He nodded thoughtfully, still frowning slightly for a moment, but then he shrugged it off. He turned back to Parker. "So, did you look into buying some used books for the upcoming year yet?"
She zoned out the rest of the talk, her attention returning to her previous internalization. She wasn't going to tell him just yet. Maybe... later tonight, if she found the opening. It was just... hard. Knowing that he would probably be disappointed. She wished there was a way for him to read her mind, so he would know her intentions to be pure and with his interests at the very top of her priority list.
Eventually they all slowed and stopped taking bites. There was still a large stack of pancakes on the table, and Booth covered them with some clear plastic wrap and slid them into the fridge, starting to gather up the plates. Brennan stood to help, with Clara quickly following suit, but Parker took over, and the two men busied themselves with the clean-up process.
Clara made a slight sound of disapproval from the back of her throat, and Brennan glanced at her with understanding in her eyes.
"We've got it," Booth insisted as she stepped forward again.
Scowling, she nudged him out of the way and planted herself firmly in front of the sink, giving him a warning glare and taking up a station with the dishcloth to begin scrubbing at the pans.
Parker and Clara engaged in their own private war a short distance away, while Booth finally gave up and began to work in tandem with her, drying each cooking utensil that she passed his way, one after the other.
It felt very... domestic. She tried to remember the last time she had done this with James, and couldn't come up with anything. She had always done the dishes herself, right after Nick was tucked into bed and drifting off. Some nights, he would come down while she was scrubbing the suds into a particularly persistent stain, looking for a glass of water. And when he didn't look interested in returning to his room, she would let him stay for a few extra minutes, giving him small tasks to do to keep him engaged. He had always loved helping her, whether it was with the cooking, the cleaning, or the other daily chores that she went through after returning from work.
Those, though, had been the good days. The days before things had begun to turn cold, when she had started avoiding James and he the same of her.
It killed her to think that, right now, James was the one bonding with their son and captivating his attention. Drawing her further away.
She wouldn't get to have her son with her again until the fourteenth.
The idea of getting him for a single weekend and then having to wait another two weeks for more time... was a raw agony in her chest.
"What's the matter?" Booth asked tentatively, bumping her shoulder with his to get her to turn towards him. He had clearly seen the change in her demeanor.
"How did you handle it?" she asked helplessly. When he gave her a quizzical look, she clarified, "Not getting to see your son whenever you wanted to?"
Realization dawned across his features, and he licked his lips, pausing.
"It wasn't easy," he said at last, his eyes flicking past her to land on his son, who was now engaged in a suds war with his girlfriend that ranged across the kitchen. "But after awhile... you start to really treasure the time that you do get. And despite what you might think, being the parent that your son doesn't get to see doesn't make you the bad guy. It makes you the cool parent. James... he'll be the bad guy, for making Nick leave you at the end of your weekend. Trust me, Rebecca chewed me out for it more times than I care to remember, and it wasn't really my fault. I was just making the absolute best of my time... which meant Parker always had a really great time with me."
"Every other weekend, though..."
"I know it doesn't sound like much," he said gently, stepping closer to her. "But Bones... it will get better. I promise. And you will get that appeal. That, and sometimes... things change when you aren't even expecting it. Remember when Parker asked to move in with me?"
Brennan nodded. How could she forget that day? Booth had never been so happy as when he was spreading the news to anyone that would listen.
"Just... remember that this is all temporary."
"Thank you," she murmured, her eyes wide and filled with sincerity to match the tone of her voice.
His eyes twinkled back at her. "No problem."
He offered to drive her to work, but she declined, insisting that she would be fine on her own. In reality, she was struggling with whether or not she'd be safer if she was with him. If she was accompanied, she'd be much less tempted to swing by her old house to just look in.
But in the end, she managed to get to the lab with no detours, and she ran into Angela as she was shutting her door and swinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Sweetie!" Angela gushed in relief. "Oh, thank goodness..."
"Ange, you knew where I was," Brennan said as Angela enveloped her in a firm hug.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean I wasn't still worried about you. I'm just... really glad to see you again. And back here, no less!"
"Right now I'm just helping out. My office was cleared out, if you remember. And I don't have any official ID, or any ranking. Officially, I am currently a consultant."
Angela snorted dismissively. "And if anyone actually abides by that, I'll be amazed. Come on, let's head inside. Everyone is going to be thrilled to see you!"
Ruefully, she ducked her head and allowed herself to be practically dragged to the elevators. At first, she was concerned about the reactions of her coworkers. She remembered the awkward eye-contact and the whispers... but that wasn't what she found this time, when she and Angela stepped through the sliding doors.
Scientists walking by slowed, but they smiled, and a few that she recognized waved in greeting.
"Dr. B!" Hodgins called from the platform, beaming hugely with his blue eyes gleaming.
Cam appeared from her office, reaching them first. "Welcome back," she said warmly, and then hesitated, as if wondering whether to go for a handshake or a hug. Brennan solved the problem for her, stepping forward and embracing her briefly.
"Great to have you back," Harper said warmly, shaking his mentor's hand.
"You're computer is still in your office, and Angela took the liberty of relocating some of your old furniture... it might make it feel more like home while we get everything sorted out."
"I... thank you," Brennan stammered, glancing between all of their smiling faces and feeling a bit overwhelmed.
Cam shooed them all away, giving Angela a coaxing raised-eyebrow look to send her on her way as well. The artist hesitated, but then gave Brennan's arm a quick squeeze and departed as well, glancing over her shoulder and making it known that Brennan was to come by her office if she wanted to talk about anything.
"There's just a bit of paperwork that's needs filling out, but most everyone is aware that you have returned to the field. I just left the forms that need signatures on your desk..." she nodded towards the office, which was dark at the moment.
"Thank you, again," Brennan said sincerely. She felt more comfortable addressing this without the rest of the team gathered around. "I... appreciate that you made this all work out."
"Brennan... there was a time when I wasn't sure if we would be able to work together, when I was sure I would be firing you. But that time passed ages ago, and I figured out a lot of things since then. One of them happens to be that you are essential here. As both a colleague and a friend. I was more than pleased to pull the necessary strings. You could call it relieved, actually."
Brennan laughed. "Still. Thank you."
"Just don't go quitting again. Please."
"I won't," she promised, chuckling lightly. "I'm here to stay."
"Alright. I'll leave you to it, then. We don't have any cases right now, but Limbo is still full as ever. Harper and the others have an interesting one up on the table. I'm sure they'd like you to take a look once you're finished in your office. And I'll have a new ID card for you by tomorrow at the latest."
"That's not necessary," Brennan assured, suddenly concerned. "We, uh... discussed my plans?"
"Right, right. You aren't 'officially' back until the sixteenth. But you're ID will still be yours. Better to get it to you sooner than later."
Brennan nodded, understanding the logic, and turned to head for her office.
It was strange, being back when she had been so sure that she was closing this chapter of her life permanently only a short while ago. The office itself, when she flicked on the lights, looked like her old office. But it was off, like she was staring at a reflection rather than the real thing. It didn't feel like it belonged to her.
But regardless, she pushed forward and settled into her chair, which was luckily the same, along with her desk and computer. She watched the screen slowly come to life, tapping her fingers beside the keyboard and running her tongue over the tops of her teeth slowly.
The familiar login screen arrived, and she used her old password, which Cam had assured her was still in effect. Immediately, her familiar desktop snapped to life, and she smiled sadly at the picture of her and her son before hastily clicking for her email account.
She scanned through and immediately decided that—for the time being—she was going to ignore all of those that enquired about her departure from anthropology. Fellow doctorates, people she had met on digs abroad, old friends... she scanned and then quickly dismissed the idea of looking at even a single one of them. They all knew why; they didn't need her to explain it to them. It had been all over the papers, all over the news.
Thankfully, the news crews had packed up their gig by now. No longer was there a mob of reporters gathered outside the Jeffersonian for her to fight her way through. It was a relief, to say the least. She had never been a fan of being in any sort of spotlight, and had abhorred all the publicity stunts her publisher had demanded she go through.
Speaking of which, there was an email from her agent that was marked 'urgent!'
Sighing heavily, she clicked it open, knowing that this was one message she could not procrastinate about.
Temperance, I'm hearing a lot of conflicting stories about what is going on. If you could confirm that you did indeed leave your other career, then we'll need to discuss new arrangements. For one, I'm sure this will get us a more fast-paced contract. I'm eager to work out the details.
Also, you'll be happy to hear that sales are up. Very far up, actually.
Hope you are well. I expect to hear from you soon.
~Tania
Typical, really. While she appreciated the straight-forward attitude her agent always had, and her no-nonsense demeanor... it would have been nice if the other woman had left out the fact that sales were up. No matter how much she told her that the money didn't matter, Tania continued to feed her updates as if it would spike her interest eventually.
All it did in this case, though, was act as a punch in the stomach. Of course sales were up. She was in the middle of a scandal... people were curious.
It left her feeling hollow, knowing that the latest wave of readers was interested solely because she was 'that writer woman whose rich husband cheated on her.'
Why couldn't this have been one of those stories that faded away and no one remembered it? Why did it have to be one of those things that the viewers invested themselves in? Why did people have to take an interest at all? Why did they have to choose sides and discuss it avidly, and read every damn article that was printed?
Why couldn't she walk down the street without seeing her own face on the front of a newspaper?
She hadn't even thought herself to be very well known, but the scandal... it was changing her opinion on that, very quickly.
There was another, older, email from her agent as well, and she reluctantly clicked that one as well.
A request to make an appearance on some talk show, to discuss what had happened. She gave an indignant huff to herself at the very idea, grinding her teeth together as her eyes blazed. Was nothing private? Did they really, truly expect her to make an appearance so that they could profit from it?
Her own publishers were no better than the reporters that had chased her so eagerly.
Pursing her lips, she closed out the emails, deciding that none of them deserved her response. Instead, she purposefully moved forward with her other intent, and began searching for a flight to New Hampshire.
Her father was currently residing in Wolfeboro, at a lake house by Lake Winnipesaukee. She had wisely not asked him how he had afforded it, or who had helped him with the sale. After getting to know him again, she had learned that it was better to not know, and to just take things as they were.
She shot him a quick email to ask if he would mind her company—which she knew would get a very excited response—and then continued her search for a decent flight from Dulles to Manchester.
It was around an hour's drive to the lake house, she knew, and she looked into rental cars as well. At least, until her email announced a new message no more than five minutes later. As expected, her father was thrilled with the prospect of a visit, and informed her that she was to stay as long as she wanted, as well as that he would be there to pick her up at the airport.
She sent a message back to let him know that she would tell him as soon as she had a date and time for her arrival, and then bit her lip as she re-assessed all the possibilities she had opened.
Hesitating for only the briefest of moments, she finally booked herself a seat on a flight leaving in the afternoon on the fourth and arriving that night, claiming her typical first class spot. She hadn't been flying in a while, she realized. The six hours in the air were not exactly ones she was looking forward to. While first class gained her the perks and the relaxation... there was always a sort of hassle about airports in general. And she would have to switch planes in Chicago, as well. It was the chaos that she disliked, not the flying itself. Conservatively, she vowed to bring only what she could carry on the flight with her. The very last thing she wanted to deal with would be baggage collection. Especially since she had lived through several 'lost luggage' scenarios in the past.
She might not be a conspiracy theorist herself, but Hodgins had made a lot of sense that time when he had explained to them all—while mildly drunk at the annual Christmas party—what really happened to luggage that went missing.
She had just sent the information to her father when Angela knocked lightly on the doorframe, stepping in. "Hey, sweetie," she said, flashing a smile. "You settling back in okay?"
"Yeah," she answered with a shrug.
"You look tired," Angela commented with a raised eyebrow, settling herself down on the couch.
Again, Brennan just shrugged, her eyes flicking to the computer screen as it once more announced that she had a new email. She hurriedly began to minimize all her open windows, but before she even noticed Angela was out of her seat, the artist's hand landed on top of hers and stopped her.
She bit her lip, feeling Angela stiffen as her eyes scanned over the page that had last appeared on the screen. It was the confirmation of her flight, the one she still needed to print out.
"Bren," Angela's voice was low and it rasped slightly with what could only be fear. Her eyelids shuddered and squeezed tight together, not wanting to face her friend. "What is this?"
She turned her chair, and Angela released her hand, moving back a pace so that she could maneuver and put them face-to-face.
"I'm going up north," she said, stating the obvious. "To stay with my father. For a little while."
Angela nodded slowly, her eyes flicking to the screen again. Brennan knew without a doubt that she was checking the return date. Slowly, the artist nodded.
"You haven't told Booth?" she guessed.
Brennan rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, and then shook her head. "Not yet," she murmured softly.
Angela sighed and tilted her head back. "When are you going to tell him? I mean... this says that you're leaving at two o'clock on the Fourth of July. That's in two days, Bren."
"I know," she answered heavily. "And I'm going to tell him. I just... don't want to disappoint him. And he's been... so nice about me staying with him."
"Of course he is," Angela scoffed. "He's downright thrilled that you asked him. Just... tell me why you're going to see your dad. Please?"
"I need a little more time, Ange. Just... some distance, for a little while. And that way... I can start over, when I get back. I just... I can't dive straight into something new. Not right now, so soon after."
Angela was nodding her agreement before Brennan even finished.
"He'll understand," she said at once, firmly. "And... when you get back, I know you'll both have figured it all out."
"I'm not so sure," Brennan answered with a sigh. "But... I really hope so, Ange. I really do."
Ange offered a soft, sad little smile, and squeezed her hand in reassurance before leaving her by herself once again, rightfully sensing that Brennan wanted to be alone, for now at least.
~BxBxBxBxBxB~
She awoke with a sudden jerk, sitting bolt upright and gasping, her eyes sweeping the living room of Booth's apartment rapidly before she leaned back against the pillows to catch her breath. The clock on the wall read just past midnight; she had barely gotten any sleep.
It had been years since the old nightmares had claimed her. And for the longest time, she thought she had vanquished them permanently. But it turned out that they still existed, just waiting for opportunities like this so they could sweep through and take over once again.
Running but never catching up as Booth walked ahead of her, disappearing further and further into the mist that surrounded them until she couldn't see him, and she was spinning in circles, unsure of where she was or which direction she had come from. And then voices whispered in the trees that materialized like the bars of a great cage around her, the voices of her friends, her family, and the words were barely there. But they were harsh, and dark, and they were pulling away.
The silence was almost worse, before the ground gave way, and she was staring up from the depths as she fell. Shadowy figures gathered around above, forming a circle. And as she screamed, the air rushing past her, she recognized each and every one of their faces to be all those that she knew. And then they stepped away, leaving a small few.
Howard Epps... Kenton... The Gravedigger... James.
And then all was dark. And all she could feel was the gravity tearing her downwards.
She shivered, unable to shake the feeling of those eyes glaring down upon her, watching her decent towards inevitable death.
"Bones?" she jumped, and craned her neck to find Booth standing in the hallway opening, brow furrowed and wearing only a pair of baggy sweatpants.
She opened her mouth and then shut it again, face reddening. She knew, without asking, that she must not have been silent. He had to have heard something to wake him up. A moment later, he confirmed it.
"I heard a... scream," he said hesitantly, letting his arm fall from where he had propped it to lean against the wall. He stepped into the room. "Are you... are you okay?"
She bit her lip, and then sighed heavily. "No, not really."
"What were you dreaming about?" he asked carefully, gently seating himself on the edge of the chair nearest to her fold-out bed.
She was grateful that he didn't make the full-out assumption that it was a nightmare. Even though it was incredibly obvious.
But she shook her head, not entirely sure she wanted to share the details.
He nodded in understanding, and she felt a wave of relief swiftly followed by a surge of guilt. He read the change on her face immediately, and he leaned forward.
"Hey," he said gently, "What's wrong, huh? I know it's something."
She had been unable to tell him last night, just like the night before it, that she was leaving soon. And now, he was being so sweet and caring, so devoted to making her happy when all she had ever caused him was pain, and here she was. Ready to hurt him again.
She couldn't handle it.
Pushing herself up, she shoved off the covers and climbed off of the bed, going to her bag. She could feel Booth's eyes on her, watching quizzically. He didn't understand, and she wished she didn't have to explain. But the ticket would do that for her, and she handed it over, seating herself back on the edge of the mattress.
He stared at it for a long moment, uncomprehending, and then raised his eyes to meet hers, a fearful realization starting to form across his features.
"Bones," he asked tightly, "What is this?"
"A plane ticket," she answered him, but at his narrowed look, she knew he needed a real answer, and she sighed. "I'm... leaving. Tomorrow, to visit my dad in New Hampshire."
"I... I see that," he said, scanning the ticket again quickly before his eyes returned to meet hers. "But... why? Did... did I say something, are you..?"
"I'm not running," she assured, finishing the question for him with her answer. "I promise, Booth. That is... that is not what I'm doing. And I'm coming back, on the thirteenth." She pointed out the information, and he nodded numbly, staring at it. "I'm leaving... partly to see my dad."
"And the other part?"
She chewed her lip for a moment, thinking over her words and knowing that she had to say the right thing. "The other part... is because I want something. With us. Between us."
His eyes widened, and his frown vanished in favor of pure astonishment.
"I can't start something right now," she hurried onwards, "Not with what just happened... but I think that, if I got away from DC completely, if I gave myself the time, if you had the time... then when I got back..."
"Are you seriously saying what I think you're saying?" he asked, his voice hushed as he leaned forward, his gaze earnestly drawing hers in.
"I... yes, I think so," she stammered, not sure exactly what his question meant. But she was pretty sure he was interpreting her correctly.
But a moment later, he dropped his head into his hands, his fingers sliding through his thick hair as he let out a heavy sigh. Her heart dropped, but then he was up and looking at her again, and he was smiling.
A slow smile spread across her face as well, her heart still racing frantically.
"You're asking me to let you go away for a week... so I can have you for a lifetime?" again, he shook his head. "No contest, Bones. I will see you on the thirteenth. And... I hope you have a good time with your dad."
She stared at him, blinking a couple of times and trying to grasp what had just happened. Could it possibly have been that easy? Had he really taken it the way she had been praying he would, without any pain, without any confusion?
Her grin widened, and she laughed, the sound releasing all the weight that had been in her chest and on her shoulders.
He laughed with her, then, and they just grinned across the small gap between them until he edged forward almost subconsciously, eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips, and she felt her heart quicken again before she pushed herself forward and closed the final distance.
Their lips crashed together, and she moaned softly. He tasted exactly as she remembered; it was not something she had ever managed to forget, through all the years. He leaned closer, his hand sliding up her arm and finding the back of her neck. His hand cupped around it perfectly, and she found her own arms lifting to wrap effortlessly around his neck.
He crushed her to his chest, and the warmth of the embrace overwhelmed her as she pulled away for a second, gasping for air. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, seeing the glowing amazement reflecting back at her, and then she leaned back in to recapture his lips with her own.
Barely realizing what she was doing, memories and emotions tumbling over and all rational thought disappearing in the heat of the moment, her fingers fumbled blindly for the hem of her tank top, to pull it over her head. She didn't care that she had just said she wasn't ready to start anything. All she cared about was the fact that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, and he wanted her forever just as she wanted him.
Nothing could have outdone that.
The last realistic thought she had was to remember that Parker had gone to a late movie and likely wouldn't be back for several hours.
But Booth stopped her, his larger hands gently seizing her wrists and holding them in place. She raised her eyes to meet his with a fearful question swimming in them. He answered it by sweeping her up in his arms, capturing her lips again, and half-carrying her with him as they swept their way down the hallway and back to his bedroom.
This wasn't actually in the plan, to be quite honest. The Hole in the Heart may or may not have had some influence over what happened here. But... I blame Booth and Brennan. They totally ran away from me while I was writing this, and I only knew about it around a page before I got to it. Darn them for keeping me out of the loop, right? xD
But hey, I hope you are all happy. Let me know your thoughts!