Baby Can I Hold You Tonight

I love you

Is all that you can't say

Years gone by and still

Words don't come easily

Like I love you, I love you.

But you can say baby

Baby, can I hold you tonight?

Maybe if I told you the right words

Oh, at the right time you'd be mine.

A/N: Great song by Tracy Chapman. Nothing more to say about this, actually. Rather self-explanatory. Set after the first two episodes of season 5. No smut, just hurt and comfort about things unsaid. Please leave a review, because I'd love to print them out to wallpaper my bedroom with it... :P

When did he turn into a coward? His lie was so obvious - even she knew it immediately. He told her he loved her without actually telling her, because he made that ridiculous turn. In an attagirl kinda way…

She had no clue why he felt the need to flinch but she played along nonetheless and felt his relief when she did so.

Somehow she was angry. His behavior upset her. What did he think he was doing, messing around with feelings she was self-conscious about anyway?

He wanted to father her baby, had told her about his coma-dream. He trusted her with his vulnerability. How did all of this spell attagirl? Did he really believe she'd buy this crap?

No, of course he didn't. For once, she understood what it meant.

Both were relieved that it was finally out - but not really - and at the same time depressed. For the same reason. The unspoken lingered between them, thick and heavy like a sleeping elephant and they tiptoed around it in an effort not to wake it up, so they wouldn't be forced to actually deal with it.

She was confused. He confused her. Avalon confused her. And she was hurt. She lost him once, feared for his life on more than one occasion and sat by his side when he didn't wake up after surgery. She would have waited for years. Why did he believe she couldn't handle his feelings? He was stupid. And a coward. A stupid, stupid coward. She could have called him on it. Ask him, why he chickened out. She could have told him that her oh so made-up fictional story during his coma was her personal dream, obviously one they shared. She could have told him she loved him, too - not in an attaboy kinda way. Oh well, it seemed she was a coward as well.

With a sigh of frustration, Brennan dropped onto her couch and placed her beer next to her laptop on the coffee table. She hoped to have enough inspiration left for another chapter of her book, but no such luck: Only Booth was on her mind, their partnership, their friendship and how everything got so messed up.

A knock on her front door disrupted her train of thought.

Speaking of the devil… she thought. Who else could it be, if not Booth. A glance through the peephole confirmed her assumption. There he was, casually in a black T-shirt, jeans and with takeout. Brennan smiled inwardly. He was always making sure she ate.

When he knocked again and called for her, she realized that she obviously hadn't opened the door yet and just awkwardly stared at him through the small fisheye lens.

She let him in and he directly moved to the kitchen, as if standing at her door around midnight with food was the most normal thing to do. Well, for them, it somehow was.

They sat on Brennan's couch, finished their meal and everything seemed to be so normal. Light and full of ease. They agreed on another beer and Brennan got up and headed for the fridge. His eyes followed her and lingered on the band-aid on her arm. When she returned, she noticed his concentrated look and his twitching jaw.

Attagirl…

"What's on your mind, Booth?"

He just shook his head and she sensed he held something back.

"Come on, I'm your partner. You can tell me! Even I know that something is off but I'm not that adept in reading people, so please, help me out."

He chuckled at her honesty and that look on her face. It was the same she had some days ago, when he told her - but not really - about his feelings: a mixture of shock, compassion and bewilderment.

"Booth! You said you were glad that we don't have any secrets between each other and that we just share what's on our mind! I think you came here for a reason tonight, so talk about it."

"No, I can't say it, Bones." He couldn't tell her again. He really couldn't. He backed out before, what would she think of him if he changed his mind like the wind changes direction? He had to spare her that. But Brennan was persistent as always and he noticed the change in her demeanor: She became quite annoyed by him.

"Would you be more comfortable if we discussed the topic with Sweets in therapy?", she finally asked, knowing that this was an ace up her sleeve. Booth did everything to avoid talking to the kid about actual, real issues.

"That's not fair!", he mocked resigning. Facing the floor, he inhaled deeply and began to speak:

"I still haven't washed it, you know… I don't think I ever will. It's just lying there on the pile of laundry where I dropped it after Caroline told me to change…"

Slowly, he dared to glance up to her. Shock and bewilderment were swept from her face and made room for compassion and understanding. For her, it all made sense now. He flinched, not to spare her the mental overload, but because he was scared of losing her. Her wound was shallow but still, she had lost some blood. And he felt he had to tell her at least a part of the truth, to give her something. It was that line again, holding him back. The reason for that damn line. It all came down to those high-risk situations and personal involvement. She got up and headed for her bedroom, leaving a puzzled Booth behind. Had he said something wrong? Did she get what he was talking about - his blood-stained dress shirt? Did she hate him for not coming to the point right away? He leant forward, placed his elbows on his thighs and buried his face with a growl in his hands, when he suddenly sensed her fingers caressing his shoulder. She sat down next to him and wrapped one arm around his shoulders. Booth's eyes fell on the item she held in her hand and he frowned. A dark piece of garment. Brennan didn't wait for him to recognize it.

"I can't even say that my world shattered. Because I'm so used to being left alone. The people I care about always leave. Why would you be an exception. Every relationship seems to be ephemeral. It was inevitable. Death is inevitable."

Brennan didn't look at him directly, but he saw the glistening in her eyes. He understood what she was referring to: His fake death after Pam Noonan shot him. He suddenly felt a lump in his throat and couldn't refrain from tearing up, too. She hastily wiped the tears from her eyes and continued speaking.

"The doctors didn't ask if I wanted to see you again. I wouldn't have wanted to anyway. You were gone. Dead. Seeing you would have given me nothing, I stare at human remains every single day. Seeing a deceased person is just as senseless to me as going to a funeral… They gave me a bag with your stuff and… I don't know, I just kept this. It's irrational, but… It was yours. And you are irrational so it made sense, I think."

He finally took the piece of cotton from her hand and inspected it. It was the t-shirt he had worn that day. It was covered in dried blood, dark red and rusty. He saw the bullet hole, could make out where her hands had been when she drew them away as soon as the paramedics arrived. The front was cut open to give them access. He had no memory of that. He didn't witness how Bones stood there, frozen and paralyzed and all covered in his blood. He had no knowledge of how Angela had to guide her to the restroom to help her wash the blood off her hands at least. He didn't see the emotionless look on her face while she watched the red trickle running down the ceramic and disappear in the drain.

But when she finally looked him in the eye, he saw it all. He saw how bad she needed him to say those words again, but he couldn't. He opened his mouth to apologize, but nothing came out.

"Bones, I... I-"

"It's ok Booth, I understand. I really do. We're not ready yet." She took his hand and squeezed it, trying to make him feel better, but it wasn't enough. It could never be enough until he was able to show her how he really felt. According to Avalon that would happen eventually, but for now he would have to settle for the second best. He pulled her closer into a warm embrace.

"No, we're not. This clown, Bones, the coma and all... I have to be sure I'm still me. I have to be sure that it's real, you know, worth it." He sank back on the couch, pulling Bones deeper and more comfortable into his embrace. Her hand rested on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat.

"You called me 'baby'...", she stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah...", he admitted quietly. "Did it piss you off more than when I first called you Bones?"

They chuckled, remembering perfectly well how she used to insist on being called by her real name. Booth rested his cheek against her head. Feeling her soft hair on his skin, he smiled.

"Baby...", he whispered, "can I hold you tonight?"

"Yeah, that's why I'm here." She nestled comfortably up to him, and they both enjoyed each other's proximity, knowing they'd always have each other's back. One way or another.