38-Buckle Up

"I'm sorry I lied, Bones. You know I would never, never, lie to you. But….One day he came home really drunk. My mom had given him this real nice belt for Christmas, and he was wearin' it that day. It was three days after Christmas. He came home drunk and the regular routine started." The whole time Booth was talking he was staring directly into Brennan's eyes. He seemed to forget that Sweets was in the room at all. He was facing her now, but he still held his shirt away from the scar. "We were in the bathroom, just me and him. I pushed Jared into the closet. The door was locked. He was hittin' me hard as usual, but then I heard footsteps. In my head I started freakin' out. My mom was gonna come upstairs and he was gonna hit her. That was what I thought, anyway."

Brennan had never heard that much about Booth's past before. She wasn't even sure she had ever heard a full story. Despite the gravity of the situation being described, she couldn't fail to notice Booth's accent shift considerably when talking about his home. Sure, he had told her that his dad was a barber and his mom wrote jingles for ad agencies, but she had never heard the thick, husky, Philadelphia accent she heard now.

"So my mom knocks on the door just loud enough to get his attention. He growls and says, 'What?' My mom says, 'Why don't you stop before you mess up your new belt? I know how much you like it.' Well that was that."

"He stopped?" she asked, feeling like she needed to speak to remind him that she was there with him.

"No, of course not. He grinned, slipped off the belt, and beat me raw with the buckle," he said as if it were simple. "It became his new favorite. And always the same spot. Hence the scar."

Sweets was frozen in place, afraid if he moved he would break some kind of invisible force hanging over all of them, and everything Booth said would be washed away with it.

"Sorry I told you differently."

"Booth, I-."

"It's OK, Bones. You don't need to say anything. My dad was a mean son of a bitch and I knew I didn't deserve what I was getting."

"No," she started, "I mean….I mean I knew it wasn't from the war."

"You did?" He had been subconsciously rubbing his hand over the scar, but stopped.

She nodded. "I…I knew that kind of wound wouldn't be caused by anything you encountered."

"You knew it was a belt," he said quietly.

She nodded again and tears were in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He reached her in one big stride and wrapped her in a hug. "It's OK, Bones, shhh. It's OK," he soothed as she cried.

She quickly composed herself and they both sat on the couch. Booth was hunched over with his arm around Brennan's shoulders and his head was turned sideways to look at her. His other hand rested lightly on her thigh and her hand was loosely holding his. She smiled a teary smile at him and he smiled back. Geez, how do these two not see it? Sweets thought before clearing his throat. Booth glared but Brennan said nothing, just looked on almost as if nothing had happened. "May I say something?" Sweets ventured.

"Can't really stop ya," Booth mumbled.

"I think that at least part of why you always put your hand on Dr. Brennan's lower back is because of that scar." The pair didn't say anything. "That experience was very horrific for you, Agent Booth. It caused a pain you had never felt before, both emotionally and physically. By resting your hand on the same spot on Dr. Brennan's back, you are protecting her from the horror you faced."

"Maybe I just wanna grab Bones' ass, have you ever thought of that?"

Sweets smiled. "I don't think that's the real reason, or you wouldn't have said it out loud."

"Are you saying I should stop doing it?"

"No. I'm not going to tell you to change any of your habits, Agent Booth. I'm just telling you what I see so that you can deal with these issues. I'm not saying don't be protective. If you weren't, things would be very different. You are an admirable man, Agent Booth. Do not think I condemn you for being, as Dr. Brennan puts it, an 'alpha male.'"

"You know that I don't need protection, Sweets," Brennan said.

Sweets smiled again. "I know, Dr. Brennan."

"What do you mean, you know?" Booth asked incredulously. "If I wasn't looking out for her, who knows where she'd be right now? You need me, Bones," he said as he looked at her.

"I do not need you, Booth."

"Yes you do."

"No I do not."

"Then why do keep me around, huh?"

"Because it's nice to have you around."

"It's nice to have me around?" The partners could be heard bickering all the way down the hall as they walked towards the elevator, Booth's hand on Brennan's back.

That night, Brennan was reading when Booth came out of the bedroom without a shirt. "Hi," Brennan said softly, gazing up at him with a smile and total appreciation. Booth said nothing, just grabbed her hand and stood her up. He turned so his back was to her and placed her hand over the scar. She began to trace it and he closed his eyes tight and sucked in a breath.

She withdrew her hand. "Did that hurt?" she asked worriedly. He shook his head no and placed her hand on his back again. She examined the scar and touched it gently. She loved every bit of him, every bump and bruise and every scar, temporary or permanent. She touched the scar like she touched every other part of him, with reverence and adoration.

She bent down and softly kissed the spot. Feeling him shudder, she wrapped her arms around his waist. A few silent tears rolled down his cheeks, and she knew he was overwhelmed with emotion. He placed his hands over hers on his stomach and took a deep breath. He turned and she handed him a t-shirt, which he slipped over his head and pulled down.

His eyes told her everything. He didn't much feel like talking, but his eyes were saying it all. He thanked her for being there for him. He told her he loved her more than his own life. He told her she'd helped him be the man he was today, and without her he'd be nothing. And he said it all without ever opening his mouth.