The Seventh Year: The R in Regret

"Sometimes that makes it hurt more. What makes us human, Bones, is that we can feel compassion and regret."

The word "regret" originates from the French word "regreter" and means "to weep over again". Temperance Brennan wasn't an etymologist, but she knew a thing or two about regrets. And not only about the word itself.

A few months ago she had been sitting in his partner's car, and even though he had only been a few inches away, the distance had been bigger. He had shut her out, had built himself another life, and she had been lonely, so lonely. Regrets had overwhelmed her; regrets that she had made him feel what she was feeling now, regrets that she had given up her own shot at happiness. For the right reasons who had turned out so wrong.

She had vowed to herself not to have regrets anymore, but sometimes, sometimes it's not your choice, sometimes all you can do is wait. And so she waited – for him to look at her again, for him to recognize her changes.

Regrets... it's so much better to have regrets because of something you have done than mourn something you have never even tried.

When they had been riding in his car earlier today and Booth had told her about the hurt of a grown-up man and about regrets being human, she had known that he hadn't only been talking about the current case, that he had been referring to something bigger, something more general. For a brief moment she could feel the old ache like a pang in her chest, but then the pain subsided.

She wasn't that woman anymore. Step by tiny little step she had revealed herself to him – from her imperviousness to her hopes and wishes.

Apologize... The word derivates from the ancient Greek "apologia" which means "speaking in defense". She had tried that one over and over again. She had done it during that night on the steps of the Hoover Building, she had done it before they departed to Maluku and Afghanistan. She had defended her decision in front of him and in front of herself. I hadn't worked.

Contrite. Feeling bad for making someone else feel bad. She had never admitted that to Booth.

Sipping her beer next to him at the Founding Fathers, Brennan mused about words and their meanings. The atmosphere was light and easy, his company as natural as breathing. They had healed, and she was afraid to rip open old scars, but suddenly the urge was overwhelming.

"Booth, there is something else I feel contrite about."

"Socks, coffee, Bones, I'm not sure I can take more of your honesty tonight," he joked, but this time she didn't laugh.

"I feel contrite about rejecting you. I feel contrite that you had to be under the impression that my feelings for you were less strong than your feelings for me. I feel contrite that I had a flaw in my logic."

Her words caught him unguardedly, but they didn't cut into his soul anymore.

"Which flaw?"

"I assumed that I wasn't strong enough to give you what you needed, and that, eventually, you would leave because of this failure of mine. I didn't take into consideration that not trying could drive you away as well. Plus, my assumption that you always have to be strong had been wrong. I've learned that sometimes being weak is okay, even necessary to grow stronger. I feel contrite about that."

He looked at her calmly for a while.

"I feel contrite that I didn't listen to you better that night. I... wanted you just the way you were, not stronger or different. Just you."

She gave him a tiny smile.

"I understand that now."

"No more regrets? After all, we didn't break."

"But we came close, Booth. I'm not stupid, I know that I almost lost you. You stopped visiting the lab, you barely talked to me anymore. I cannot lose you, you know? You are too important."

Taking a sip of his own beer gave him a moment to think about his answer.

"You're wrong, Temperance. You assume that I just walked away from you easily when in truth I fought every single day not to call you, not to think about you. I cannot lose you, either. At least not without breaking. Being with you was sometimes hard and painful, but being without you..." He shook his head. "That's just not me."

"And now?"

A smile tugged at his lips on a will of its own.

"Now I wake up every single morning looking forward to seeing you."

Following a spontaneous impulse, she put her head on his shoulder, rubbing her cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt.

"I feel close to you."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he squeezed her briefly.

"You are close to me."

Her nose wrinkled.

"Not only literally speaking, Booth."

He chuckled.

"I know, Bones."

Taking a deep breath, he released her again.

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"It's kind of big."

"I would do anything for you, Booth," she stated, her eyes shining with honesty.

"Would you come home with me tonight? Sleep next to me and... hold me? Just hold me?"

Holding his breath, he waited for her answer. Truth be told, he didn't really know where this request came from, but suddenly he yearned for the comfort of her arms. Maybe it was because being around her didn't hurt anymore, maybe he needed to test her commitment to him, maybe he just wanted to hold her as well – Booth didn't know why, but he didn't really care that much.

"Yes," she simply said.

"Just 'yes'?"

Nodding, she emptied her beer bottle.

"I want to hold you."

-BONES-

His apartment was dark and smelled like a bigger version of himself. Neither of them spoke as they walked into his bedroom in the dim night light that shone in through the window. Rummaging around in his closet, Booth handed her one of his old shirts. It was big and would cover her modestly. In his bathroom she found fresh towels and an unused toothbrush.

She took her time to change and get ready for the night. The fabric of his shirt hugging her bare chest felt strangely good, and when she caught her own reflection in the mirror, Brennan had to smile. She knew what he had asked for, and a year ago it would have scared her to death.

Intimacy.

You don't just sleep with someone. Sex can happen, and sometimes sharing a bed is convenient, like it had been during their undercover circus case. But just going home with someone to sleep is nothing you do unless it means something. Unless the person means something to you.

He did.

And not only 'something'. He meant everything to her.

When she came out of the bathroom, he gave her an almost shy smile before he disappeared himself. He was back before she had decided whether to go to bed or wait for him, and, taking her hand, he took the decision from her.

His sheets were cool, and goosebumps appeared on her bare legs, as she slid under the covers. Finding a comfortable position on her back, Brennan outstretched her arm, waiting for him. The he was by her side, and ever so carefully his head found a place on her chest. Her right arm curling around his shoulders, she caressed his head with her left hand.

He let go of a sigh as her long fingers run through his hair, her fingernails grazing his scalp. Unsure what to do with his right hand, Booth placed it on the soft curve of her belly.

And then the world stood still as he lay as motionless as possible, surrendering himself to her presence. Under his palm her belly was heaving with every breath she took, and with his ear over her chest, he could hear her heartbeat. She felt so soft and tiny underneath him, but her arms held him safer than he had ever been before.

Shifting her head, Brennan pressed her cheek to his forehead, never stopping the soothing motion of her caresses. Never before had she held someone like this, just because. Never before had she experienced intimacy like this, not with her former sexual partners and not even with Booth himself.

Pursing his lips, he placed a tiny little kiss on the spot just above her right breast, and she hugged him even closer. Holding him felt so right, and one more piece inside of her fell back into place. A strange rush of tenderness filled her chest, and she felt stronger than ever.

"Booth, I will always protect you," she whispered in the darkness, and he went pliant in her arms.

The line that used to be his spoken in her sweet voice touched him deeply.

"The same goes for me, Bones..."

Taking a deep breath that made his hand bobble on its place over her belly, she added,

"I will still protect you in thirty, forty, fifty years."

Suddenly his throat felt very tight, and he had to swallow hard to rein in his sentimental heart. Rolling around until he almost covered her completely with his body, he burrowed his head in the crook of her neck, hiding his touch in the curtain of silk that was her hair. Without hesitation her arms came around his back, cradling him gently.

"I cannot imagine my life without you and I don't want to," he said, his husky voice so close to her ear that she shivered.

"Don't do it, then," came her simple reply.

"I've never felt so naked before. Does this make any sense to you?"

"Yes, it does. Although this is not my field of expertise, I suppose there is more about 'making love' than sex, isn't it?"

He chuckled, wondering when she had gotten so smart.

"One day, Honey," he promised, and she brushed her lips over his head, her heart aching sweetly at the tender name.

"I know, Booth."

After all, they had set a date, made a commitment.

"We're are past the storm."

Smiling, she rolled them around until she was sprawled over him, and it was Booth holding her. In a gesture full of trust she rested her head over his thumping heart, his chest warming her, and somehow the light burden of her weight on top of him made it even more real.

She was his.

He had always trusted her with his life, but in this night-covered moment full of honesty and possibilities, he allowed himself to trust her with his heart.

She had been pain, despair and light for him. Shared meals, endless car rides, countless drinks. From "A" like the alabaster tone of her skin over "H" like heart-crushing, the word she had invented because it was anatomically correct, to "R" like the regrets that had darkened their togetherness for so long – a dictionary wasn't thick enough to content all the words he associated with her.

No word could describe her beauty nor the sound of her laughter, no word was big enough to grasp the roller coaster that had been their relationship. No word was as pure as the feelings he had for her.

However, tonight they had come full circle with one of them. Regret. From this day on their passage under "R" would be empty because they had erased it.

Now and forever.

And the rest... the rest was only consummation. Consummation with "C" passing eternity with "E" leading to "L" like love.

They had changed, were changing, would change. Just like their words.

As for tonight... they had given "S" like sleep a new meaning. And in the new morning he didn't have to look forward to meeting her because when he opened his eyes, her sleeping face was the first thing he saw.

Beautiful with "B".

To be continued...