AN: Thank you to doctorsuez for consulting, and to jsq and la mome for the thoughtful beta comments.

Between this and Mirror, I feel like I've written nothing but smut lately. ;) So, picking up right where the last chapter left off…

Part 36

"I told you about the case, right?"

"Internet fraud."

Booth nodded. "People getting caught in these pyramid schemes, so-called opportunities to invest money, but they make you bring in more investors to increase your profit or get back the initial fee.

"Cyber crime, that was Luckett's specialty area at Quantico, so he was all excited to take this as one of his first cases. A lot of work was actually done by the Bureau's computer geeks, but we still had to go get people's computers to bring in, and interview them about the tactics the scammers used."

"And that's what you were doing in that neighborhood?"

"Yeah. Bones… I've been in that area half a dozen times and no one's ever shot at me." He looked down at her hand in his. "I think it was pure dumb luck. Now there could be a turf war going on that we didn't know about. That street corner is right on the border of known gang territory. But it wasn't supposed to be actually in it.

"So, what happened was… We went to interview this shop owner, one of the victims who got taken in by the prospect of easy money. We were just talking to him on the sidewalk in front of his store. It's near the corner, along with a Laundromat and a magazine shop.

"What we didn't know was, there were a couple gang bangers right around the corner. And that a rival gang chose that exact moment to stage a drive-by." Bones took a sharp breath, though she'd heard this much of the story already.

"I'm sure they never would've done it if they'd known there were two cops on the street. But it all happened so fast…" He closed his eyes for a second. "We heard the car and the shots at almost the same time. I just acted on instinct—I hit the deck, and pulled the nearest person down after me, who happened to be the shop owner. And—it's a really good thing we had some parked cars in front of us. Because otherwise we'd have been way too out in the open."

Bones squeezed his hand, looking downright scared. He waited, and she said, "I thought… I was afraid you'd do that. I mean, diving on top of someone. To shield them." Tears shone in her eyes, but her voice shook with anger.

"I didn't. I just reacted. Tried to grab for the guy, but… I didn't, Bones. Not this time."

She looked like she wanted to say, There better not be a next time!

And he could agree with her.

"Well," he continued, "Luckett dove for cover just a fraction slower, and he must've caught a ricochet off part of the metal storefront. I drew my gun after I went down, but there wasn't anything to do except hide out behind the wheel of the parked car. I crawled around so I could see the retreating vehicle, and I got most of its license plate number… But I just didn't have a good angle to get off a shot or maybe take out one of its tires.

"So, then… after the car peels away, people are bleeding and there's a girl screaming and some alarm is going off. There was a man reading a newspaper who got shot in the leg, and Luckett's arm is bleeding… The storekeeper's freaking out, and around the corner, the gang bangers…" His voice was not steady. "One looked about fifteen and the other couldn't have been more than twenty. I went to check them, and they'd both been hit multiple times. One was already dead and the other… I didn't think he'd live until the ambulance got there.

"That's how I got blood on my hand." Booth lifted the hand that wasn't holding onto Bones. "When I was checking one of them for a pulse. And when I was keeping pressure on Luckett's arm, but both of us are up to date on our vaccines, so I didn't worry.

"The girl who was screaming—one of their girlfriends—she wasn't hit, but she wouldn't stop crying. I had to get her to help me, because we had that bystander who was hurt. The shopkeeper wouldn't stay, he was going into his store to see if customers were hurt and what the damage was. The shots broke some of his windows—he's had that place for about twelve years and knows it's not the best neighborhood but said he couldn't believe…"

Bones touched his hand with both of hers, and it helped him slow down.

"I was…" He took a breath. "I was kind of hard on the girl. Just a teenager too… I shook her and yelled at her, and she quieted down and did what I told her, to help the guy who got shot in the leg. Meanwhile I'm holding onto Luckett's injury, and they're both bleeding pretty badly. He's the one who actually called for help—Luckett—because he had a free hand." Booth gave a shaky laugh. "The arm that didn't have a bullet in it."

Brennan stroked his hand again, and he said, "Poor kid. He's barely Sweets' age. And, on one of his first cases in the field, with someone who's supposed to know what he's doing and watch out for him—"

"Booth…"

"No, I have two partners getting shot in two months? That—that is some track record."

"Shh. I don't care about that." He looked up, surprised at the defiance in her voice. "I just… I only care that you're all right."

"Well, Luckett's family will care."

"Yes. But he's expected to make a full recovery. There shouldn't be any nerve damage, from what I understand. Doctors had to repair the cephalic vein?"

"Yeah, I think."

She nodded. "It runs a good length of the arm and is the most superficial. That would have looked like a lot of blood at the time, but… it could have been much worse."

They fell silent for a minute. Booth stared at the bookcase and green wall in front of him. Bones leaned closer so their shoulders touched.

"All that trouble and violence for two teenagers?" She sounded as weary as he felt. "Just because they were in the wrong section of town?"

"Yeah. If the other gang thought they were. Or maybe it was all about retaliation. If the first kids had been doing something, like striking at rivals to gain entrance into their gang, maybe the second group had to up their game in response."

Bones went quite again. Then she said, "Did this… Did it make you think of Afghanistan? Or the Gulf?"

They'd almost never talked about his time in Afghanistan. But that had more to do with a certain blonde journalist, and less to do with war.

"Not while it was happening. But now… yeah. I mean, you can't help it. The sound of gunshots, of people screaming…"

And the smell of blood. He'd washed it off. But he still smelled it.

Bones was stroking his arm in comfort. Then he realized she was examining the elbow he'd scratched when diving to the ground. It was only a scrape, but she seemed determined to care for it.

"We should apply some salve to this so it doesn't get too dried out. In fact, the rest of your skin could use moisturizer. That soap they gave you was very dehydrating." She stood up, going around the bed toward the corner of the room.

"Bones?"

"Wait there."

She disappeared into the attached bathroom, then emerged with a bottle of lotion. He had to smile. "You think of everything, don't you?"

"Well, Angela and Hodgins do."

"Okay, as long as Angela didn't pick it out, and I end up smelling like potpourri or something."

Bones squeezed a dollop onto her hand and held it under his nose. "Acceptable?"

"Yeah."

She took his arm and gently smoothed the lotion over his elbow.

"Actually…" He sighed. "Who cares if I smell like flowers? It's better than blood or gunshot residue or weird soap."

She didn't answer, but let her actions do the talking. She massaged down both his forearms and over his hands. Then she crawled behind him on the bed and tugged at the hem of his shirt. "Let me see the rest of your skin."

He raised his arms obligingly as she peeled the scrub top over his head. Come to think of it, his back did feel a little itchy…

She spread a thin layer over his whole back, then rubbed it in. Her hands were warm, the lotion cool. Her fingers found a knot between his shoulder blades, and expertly kneaded it out.

"God, that feels great. How did you learn this?"

"Simple human anatomy, Booth."

She might have meant to sound smug, but didn't succeed. He got the sense she wanted to grab him and hold on for dear life.

Instead, she was so tender.

Her hands worked the tension out of his neck and shoulders. They caressed his shoulder blades and prodded down his spine. He felt ready to collapse on the bed and let her massage every one of his muscles. But she was focused on the rest of his skin.

Sliding off the bed, she sat sideways on the floor, pulling his feet into her lap. Her fingers drew firm circles around his heel. They pressed into the ball of his foot, and glided gently, almost tickling, over the arch. Booth felt his breathing get more relaxed. His skin was warm and tingly under her hands.

Next she pushed his pant leg up to bunch above his knees. She soothed the dry skin there, before massaging up and down his calves. He watched her face, her eyes intent and soft.

Bones was kneeling between his legs now. And she couldn't massage any higher without taking off his clothes. He felt his breathing speed up again, when her palms came down on the fabric over his thighs. She seemed to hesitate, then slid her hands along his legs. Slowly, up the inside, then down the outside.

Now she met his gaze, her hands confident.

"Bones…" he said hoarsely.

Her eyes looked smoky in the fading daylight. She took his hands and pulled him to his feet with her. Leaning forward, she claimed his mouth. Still so gentle, like she was trying to memorize his lips. But before long, emotion got the better of her, and she kissed like she would never come up for air.

When she finally did, they were both panting, and she'd thrown off whatever restraint she'd had. Her arms went around his neck, tight and fierce. To him, she felt just as strong as before she'd gotten shot. She held him for a long time before loosening her grip.

Glancing at the abandoned bottle of lotion, he couldn't help teasing. "What about the rest of my skin?"

"It can wait."

She wasn't trying to be funny. Her eyes were so full of love and worry, that suddenly the day's events came crashing down on him, and right now, he didn't want anything but this. His hands found her hips, pulling her hard against him. "Tell me you love me."

She leaned close, nuzzling his neck, and breathed it in his ear. "I love you."

When he moved back to see her face, tears welled in her eyes. "Please, Booth. Don't ever scare me like that again."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. I didn't know Perrota told you, or that you only got half the story. It shouldn't have happened like that. Okay?"

"Okay." She nodded and wiped her eyes. Then she took his hands and led them to the top button of her shirt.

-.-.-.-.

It wasn't until they'd shed their clothes and tumbled onto the bed that his brain started working again.

He'd been drawing patterns with his tongue on the outer curve of her breast, when he remembered caution.

She opened her eyes, panting. "Wh—why did you stop?"

He laid a hand on the purplish scar angling across her belly. "We should be careful, you're still healing. Why not let me do all the work and then—"

"No." She hooked her leg over his hip and used the leverage to grind them together. God, she was so—

"I want you. All of you."

He wasn't going to argue with that. Except… "Remember, Bones. It's like driving a fast car. You've got to go gently."

She shook her head and dragged his lips back down to hers. Her hands were gliding over his back, hitting just those spots that brought him the most pleasure during the massage. And her hips moved against him—subtle, teasing them both.

But there was something else he was supposed to remember.

"Wait," he gasped. This time she glared at him, and he struggled to make his point as quickly as possible. "At the clinic—there's still a small chance I caught something, and I wouldn't want to—"

"No. I don't care."

"Bones—"

"Booth." She brushed hair from her face and found her rational voice, despite being naked and flushed and pressed right against him. "They gave you an antibiotic, right? And a thorough shower. You don't have any visible cuts on your skin, and the lab tests came back negative. After all that, the odds of contracting anything are so small as to be…"

"How small?" He put one finger on her throat and dragged it down between her breasts, through a sheen of sweat. Could she calculate the odds now?

She closed her eyes. "Shut up. I don't care." Her hips undulated, making him groan, and she kissed him.

She kissed him long and deep, until he forgot everything but the softness of her lips, and the hot sweetness of her body against his.