A/N: Hello amazing readers, I hope you are all doing well. I have been so encouraged by your wonderful reviews. I would like to apologize for leaving you where I did at the end of the last chapter. It was admittedly unkind ; ) I hope this chapter will make up for it. You'll have to let me know in the reviews.

In all seriousness, I'm trusting my good friend Doge here because I seriously got to the point where I pretty much hated this chapter. Well, all but one part. Can you guess? That happens sometimes when I've worked on a chapter forever and read it to the point where it's lost all feeling for me. She assures me I'm being ridiculous. So I'm letting it go and publishing it.

Much love

DG

The Long Way Home

Chapter 7

Her lips were warm and supple and one glorious kiss just seemed to easily turn into two then more until he'd blissfully lost count. He should stop, he knew he should. They should talk about this, he knew that too but the feel of her in his arms, the weight of her body pressed up against his was irresistible. It was all he'd thought about most of the last year and for her to initiate was a dream come true.

Stop, was what he wanted to tell her, what he needed to tell her. You've had a bad night, a hard couple of days and you think you want this but you're just really emotional right now. Instead, he found his arms wrapped around her, his hands trailing up and down her back, along those tempting curves while he deepened those kisses. Their tongues twisting together felt like a distant memory eliciting the most exquisite moans of pleasure he was sure he'd ever heard in his life. He wanted nothing more than to drown in the sound.

He was losing control and he knew it.

Her leg slipped up over his, her hips pressing in against him while his fingers slipped through her hair pushing back the cascade of messy curls I can't do this. She needed to hear that from him and he thought it, he did, but couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. We shouldn't do this. Because ...because he knew this was dangerous, dangerous for him. He was already hurting from her refusal to try to be together and he knew this was just going to make that pain worse, deeper. Maybe too deep to have any hope of ever recovering from.

Knowing now how it felt to hold her, what it felt like to caress her, to kiss her so intimately, wasn't going to help anything. It would only add to his agony when tomorrow or the next day she told him it had been the most amazing one-night stand ever, but she couldn't do it, that it was all a mistake. His mind begged his body to listen. But his body had other plans.

His hands slipped easily under the edge of her tank top landing in the deep arch of her lower back. Home, this was home. He couldn't help the way they slid easily up and down, circling this sacred space. Her skin was so soft, silky smooth, he found himself breathless with desire. She tugged and pulled and he raised up just enough for her to pull his undershirt off, their lips quickly met as they fell back down on the bed.

There was only one way to regain control, he thought. He would roll them over so he was over her. He could pin her down long enough to talk to her, keep those hands he'd admired for years from roaming, awakening every goddamn cell in his body. That would do it. And then he'd explain that if she cared for him at all they needed to wait, to stop, to talk, make some decisions. Because if they did this, if they continued down this road and made love, he wouldn't be able to just walk away and act like nothing happened. This would change him. It would change them whether she thought so or not.

He could hold her, that's what he would tell her. He could hold her all night, arms tight around her. He could offer her the comfort of a friend, but this, what they were doing, was going to be the death of him. She would understand. Hell, she should know that because she knows him better than anyone. Surely, if he brought it up she'd honor his wishes. So he rolled them.

"Oh, God," whispered against her skin in a sincere appeal to deity, he collapsed with his head nestled against her neck.

What was he thinking, of course, the feel of her beneath him was more enticing, harder to resist. Pulling himself up, he looked down into her eyes, those beautiful stormy eyes that had held him captive for years, he saw something he couldn't put into words. They stopped. Everything stopped.

She took in a shuddered breath, her hands reaching up, fingers carefully tracing the fine features of his face. Lightly stroking his glabella and supraorbital ridge as she thought, her eyes darting across him. Letting her fingers drift she watched as his eyes fell closed. The tips of her fingers moved across his face. From his supraorbital ridge to his temporal bones, sphenoid, zygomatic, long strokes along the strong line of his mandible.

They were just bones to other people but not to her. They were building blocks to her, the core of a person. To her, they told the story of this powerful man, this soft, tender man, this fiercely protective man who loved her. Her. She didn't understand. But she knew that no matter what happened in her life, past or present, he had proven himself there for her.

She watched his expression, felt the tension leave as his whole body relaxed under her touch. When his eyes fluttered open and connected with hers he saw something there and this time he understood. She loved him. He could see it so clearly in her eyes. Whether she knew it or not, whether she ever said it to him or not, he saw it. He saw it. But there was more there, a deeper vulnerability and openness that made reading her easy. And then she closed her eyes, effectively shutting him out.

"Let me love you, Temperance." His fingers traced along the edge of her cheek, his touch light and gentle. "Trust me to love you."

"Booth." Barely a whisper, her voice full of pain and weariness, eyes squeezed tight to ward off another round of tears. He'd seen her. Stood on the ground of her most vulnerable years, and she didn't know how he could possibly do that and still want her. She didn't understand but she saw his love and devotion to her in his eyes.

Cupping his cheeks she pulled him down into the softest, most simple, yet sensual kiss he'd ever experienced. That one kiss held all their years of friendship, all the bickering, countless lunches and dinners together, laughter and tears. It carried her careful care of him during this whole year of recovery from his brain tumor.

Before her were all the times he helped her navigate social situations or recover when things didn't work the way she'd thought they would. She saw them standing over rotting corpses at too many crime scenes in too many places to count. He was there standing in the doorway watching her hunched over bones, examining them. In her office on her couch, pacing, impatiently waiting, always amidst a flurry of cases, of ancient remains, of students. He was there at all the crossroads of her life and she at his. In his office, in his truck, in his apartment. At the diner and Founding Fathers.

But in his arms, like she was, this was where she'd never been, not really, and certainly where she wanted to be most. This moment was what they'd always denied themselves.

Reaching between them she started to tug and pull on the bottom of her tank top only to have her hands stilled by him. The look in her eyes was one of near panic and he knew she thought she'd made a mistake, misjudged the situation but that wasn't the case.

Keeping eye contact with her he scooted down her body, his hand laid down smooth circles over her tummy before he leaned down to press light kisses along the edge of where her tank top lay. The side of his hand pushed the garment up a little at a time as he worked his way back up her body. He heard her breathing change, felt her body rise up into his touch, her fingers played with his hair not to hurry him or push him away, no, she wanted to soak up every minute of attention he gave her. It was more of a dance they were sharing, easy and natural.

Kiss after kiss, inch after inch, until his lips pressed a long kiss over her heart letting his cheek rub along the swell of her breast. Lifting her tank top reverently from her body he settled back down reveling in the feel of their bodies pressed against one another. The slip of his skin against hers eliciting the most sensuous feel. He couldn't control the deep moan of pleasure that escaped him and vibrated through her.

She didn't know what it would feel like to have him touch her intimately until that moment. She'd imagined it many times in so many ways, passionate and out of control, angry, full of frustration that finally snapped, calm and tortuously slow. None of which compared to the feel of his hands moving on her bare skin, over her hips, along the curve of her waist, the back of his hand along her inner thighs. The way the roughness of his thumb felt as he stroked her breast. Nothing compared to the touch of the actual man, this man, she admired and respected so deeply.

She was sure she could lay there all day enraptured by the feel of his hands on her body if it weren't for her own need to touch him, to explore. Placing her hand on his shoulder she pushed lightly guiding him until he laid down on his back. Dragging her body along his, sometimes so lightly he could barely breathe, she worked her way from his forehead down laying soft kisses on every scar she found along the way until she hit the waistband of his boxers. He felt her lips press against the scar his brother gave him when they were boys then she moved to his other hip and he knew where she was going.

Her fingers went back to the scar he'd told her about. Looking up at him, her hands tucked themselves carefully into his boxers, he lifted his hips letting those delicate but sure hands slip his boxers from his body. He watched enthralled as she tucked her hair behind one ear before leaning down and pressing her lips to the long scar. His eyes fell shut. He expected her to move on but she didn't, she just hovered there, her breath uneven, until he felt what he knew were her tears falling on the old wound. Lingering, she spoke softly. "He shouldn't have done that to you."

"Hey, hey, come here." He reached for her, pulling her back up until they were face to face. Two bodies tangled, their lives intertwined. Pushing her hair back he caught her eyes. "It's okay. I'm okay." But it didn't feel like they were okay. It felt… it felt like they were two broken souls fumbling their way through life pretending that they were okay. "Seriously, I am." He wiped her tears and stroked her cheek. "We're okay. No one, no one, is ever going to hurt us like that again. I protect you and you protect me. We're safe now, right?" Tucking one lip between her teeth she nibbled nervously before nodding in agreement. "Right?"

They stayed that way for some time, until her lips found his, "Safe." She spoke against his lips. "Yes." Something changed in that moment. Everything felt different from when he first came to lay down beside her. She's found her footing. Her and Booth. No matter what the storm was it was the two of them, together. She lost track of the pain she'd been feeling, let it go of it as the world slipped farther away and he became the only thing in her universe. Him and her, them. He worshipped and adored and kissed over every inch of her until he found himself cradled by her body.

It wasn't how he would've planned it and certainly not how he'd imagined it. He never would've picked a hotel room, that's for dang sure. It would've been in his bed. Maybe hers. At home. There would've been a long, slow seduction that would've included dinner, fine wine, maybe slow dancing in his living room, or hers. The whole night would've been foreplay. There wouldn't have been tears and so much trauma in such a short span of time. But maybe this was just the way it needed to happen for them. Their way. Vulnerable. Raw. As different and unique as them. Normal. Their normal, but beautifully different.

Because when he looked in her eyes now there was no pretense, no guarded, controlled, wall staring back at him. Just her. Just the woman he loved nodding, telling him she was his, that she was ready. And when he pushed into her she took him in, her body drawn to his, beckoning, her delicate hands clinging to his shoulders. Nothing holding them back, nothing to keep them from giving one hundred percent of themselves to the other.

Everything that had seemed so complicated felt simple now as she stared into his eyes, felt the clarity of his touch, the completeness of having him inside her. She'd never experienced the sensation of being whole with anyone else before, not like this, not like with this man. It was something more than physical. It was safety and security. It was mutual companionship. It was pleasure with a tinge of pain, just enough to prove it was real and not some dream she'd never enjoy in reality. It was everything he promised it would be ages ago in a diner. It was oneness. It was love. It was all of it and she didn't want it to end.

So she clung to him and he clung to her as their bodies slid against one another touching down the entire length of them. Tension built with each long sensuous movement, each uttered confession of affection and need, each time their swinging hips met. Pushing their bodies to hold out a little longer until they couldn't push them any farther and they broke. Waves of utter bliss rolled over them pulling them down into an exquisite abyss.

They laid there stilled, catching their breath, waves of pleasure still pulsing between them, afraid to move and break this delicate new bond. When Booth tried to move, for fear he was crushing her, she stopped him. "No," she whispered, "Just ...just stay."

He stayed.

"I'm here." He showered her with light kisses and gentle caresses eventually moving to her side, pulling her in close to him. "I'm not going anywhere, Temperance, I promise." She clung to his body with a fierceness he hadn't expected. "I won't leave you. This is what I've always wanted."

She only nodded against his chest, holding him tighter. And when she started to drift off to sleep he moved them carefully under the covers, curling his body around hers. She stirred and complained in small grunts and groans until he was settled behind her. He softly gathered her hair tucking it behind her, stroking her shoulder in smooth back and forth motions, then pressing a firm kiss to her shoulder. Reaching behind her she grabbed his hand and pulled his arm around her. They both drifted off to sleep.

She woke first. Sun was shining through a crack in the blackout curtains in one long shaft. She wiggled a little until she backed up against the wall of a man lying behind her. She froze as he mumbled and protested pulling her back, his arms wrapped protectively around her. Not wanting to wake him until it was absolutely necessary she stilled herself, resting her hand on his. Her mind wandered as her fingers traced his, counting bones. Her eyes fell shut. She had a lot to think about. She took in a long deep breath and Booth responded to her movement.

"I love you." He whispered against her ear, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. It tickled as it resonated through her. Just a couple of weeks ago that same sentiment terrified her, now she welcomed the safety she felt but she couldn't help but wonder if that would change. "Shhhh…" he buried his face deeper in between her neck and shoulder.

She hadn't said anything and was about to protest but he pulled his hand back along her tummy until he found her hip. Long smooth strokes of his hand ran over the curve of her hip, drawing her attention away from all her worries as she calmed under his touch. Her breathing slowed as her body relaxed. She would've drifted off to sleep again but she knew they needed to get a flight out of Chicago before they were all taken by weary travelers like themselves. She wanted to be home.

When she was sure he was asleep again she slowly slipped out of his arms, gathered her clothes, and tiptoed quietly to the bathroom. She even dressed in the dark to keep the loud fan from coming on and waking him. When she was dressed she walked back into the bedroom area of the room to grab her cell phone. Booth was spread out on the bed now, the top sheet twisted around his body. Leaning up against the edge of the wall, she stood there watching him. Beautiful man.

Rolling back along the wall she sunk to the floor and let out a heavy sigh. She scooted back into a corner of the closet area and started calling. The storm had passed, the airport was open, flights weren't grounded anymore but everyone was trying to get on those flights. Flopping her head back against the wall she waited on hold with one airline after another until she finally got them two seats on a United flight. They would have to leave in about an hour to get through security. Standing she made her way back into the room.

There were times she'd seen him sleep in the past. It was common when they went undercover. They often shared adjoining rooms when they were out of town working on a case, it made collaborating easier. When he was in the hospital. Her heart clenched at the memories that flooded her mind. Short of when he was shot and she thought he'd died, no event had scared her more than when he woke and didn't know who she was. A familiar panic started to rise up within her. Losing him terrified her. For years she'd convinced herself that if she didn't allow herself to love him she could spare herself the pain of losing him in the end. As she stood there looking down on him, she could help but wonder if she'd really spared herself. She was pretty sure losing him would be life-shattering regardless.

An overwhelming need to be closer to him drove her back to the edge of the bed they'd shared. She laid down beside him, keeping just a little distance. She would have to wake him soon enough. For the moment she could lay there in the stillness with him. As she lay there studying his features she wondered what this night would mean for them.

Everything happens eventually. He'd told her that once. Everything. She remembered standing in the doorway to that dingy pool hall he'd had her meet him at to fire her. He'd fascinated her from the beginning. He was handsome, strong, but more than that he was passionate about his work like her. She didn't know many people who wouldn't give up when faced with insurmountable obstacles but here he was working on a case everyone else had given up on.

That was attractive to her. Even his endless attempts to contact her during the year that followed fascinated her. He was like her but also completely different. He had something she wanted, many things actually, and he was willing to help her get them. Something happened that night when they kissed. Something she'd never experienced. A connection. She thought it was the tequila. She thought if a kiss left her that vulnerable she wasn't sure what sex would do.

A sharp deep breath redirected her attention because now she knew it wasn't the tequila and she knew what sex …she stopped herself. Was it sex, though? Making love? Two people trying to be one. Defying physics but really he was turning science, everything she knew and counted on the concrete nature of, turning all of it on its head. She felt that, like she'd been spun about. She also felt like trying again, and again, and again. Was this an eventuality? Was this one of those "everythings" that Booth had told her would happen one day?

She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him that she tucked her hands up under the pillow her head was resting on. Her movement stirred him and she froze hoping he'd settle back down to sleep a few more minutes before she needed to wake him.

She hadn't been ready to sail off with Sully. Gordon Gordon said it was because she wasn't ready to live a purposeless life. She needed her work. But Booth was intertwined so completely in her work, in all aspects of her life, that even then she'd wondered if it was Booth she wasn't ready to live without. Because ...because she still wasn't ready to live without him. She was sure she never would be.

Booth's big strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her in close. He pushed his leg up between hers as his hand slid over her hip dragging her leg up and over his. "Clothes." He still hadn't opened his eyes. Instead, he grumbled as he tucked himself around her drawing her in close. "Too many clothes." He mumbled against her neck. The effect this man had on her was simply unfair. She moaned helplessly, enjoying his attention entirely too much.

"Tickets." Breathless, reeling from his attention, she fought for every semi-coherent word. "I got…" she couldn't finish her thought, her mind lost to his sensual kisses trailing from just below her ear down her neck.

"Tickets?" He spoke against her skin. She hummed her answer unable to form words, knowing she needed to say more but unable to. His hands slipped up under her shirt, they were warm against her cool skin. They wouldn't make their flight if this went any farther.

"Now." She mumbled. "We ...go." He wasn't stopping and she was slipping into oblivion. "Booth." She whined. Pulling away gave her just enough wherewithal to roll onto her back.

God, she was beautiful laying there, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. He didn't care about the flight, he didn't care about anything but loving this woman and bringing her pleasure. His hand moved across her stomach and gripped her hip with just the right amount of pressure. Turning her head she locked eyes with him.

It all happens, he told her when Sully left, you just have to be ready for it. Was she ready? Maybe it was too late to be asking. It had already happened and she couldn't ignore that, not with Booth. But she couldn't help but ask herself. He could see the thoughtfulness in her eyes and let his hand drift up to stroke her cheek. He wasn't about to make the same mistake he made on the steps of the Hoover and pressure her. Without saying a word he bent down, pressed a warm kiss to her forehead, and pulled back to get up.

She was grateful for that. He acknowledged her need to think this through, but didn't question her or push her, he would give her the time she needed to think. No pressure. She needed that. One thing she knew for sure, no one knew her like Booth did. No one would ever love her like he loved her.

Grabbing his undershirt and boxers he made a mad dash for the bathroom stopping briefly to give her a knowing wink and a smile. She chuckled that beautiful low laugh that made him weak in the knees and shook her head.

She watched him round the corner before letting out a heavy sigh. Everything she knew about love she'd learned from Booth. He was her standard and certainly her source of information in an area of expertise she felt she was greatly lacking. She wasn't good at abstracts. She did much better with those aspects of life that were concrete, quantifiable. Love was not quantifiable, not really, it wasn't even easily defined, not as far as she could tell. It couldn't be measured. It would be so much easier if it could be. In all things that involved social interactions she relied on him to help her, his opinion meant the world to her, but how could she ask him if it was about him.

Booth swore he could hear her thinking from the other room and found himself praying to God this didn't blow up in his face. Setting that all aside he leaned against the counter, whipped out his phone, and sent a quick text to Angela.

We are flying in at 6:00 get everyone to meet us at the Founding Fathers at 7:30

Angela answered, worried about her best friend. Booth tried to play it down, he wasn't going to give details, but he didn't have to. Angela understood. She'd caught enough from Brennan's tone to know she could use a welcome home party. He came back out to find Bones sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to leave. Twenty minutes later they found themselves checked in, at the gate, waiting for their flight to board.

The airport was packed with people, travelers whose plans had been thrown into chaos. They were tired and anxious and loud, which wasn't an issue until Brennan broke her silence.

"Do you think I'm ready?"

"What?" He asked, even though he was pretty sure he heard her.

"Do you think I'm ready?" He wanted to scream yes. Absolutely, yes. He wanted to tell her even though it would've been hard to stop last night from happening he would've if he thought even for a second that what was happening between them wasn't going somewhere good. Somewhere good for them. Somewhere they were both ready for. But he didn't say any of the thousands of things he was thinking. Grabbing her hand, he gave it a firm squeeze.

"I can't answer that for you, Bones, only you can answer that question."

Letting out a heavy sigh, she nodded looking down at their joined hands, then back up to her partner and friend unavoidably adding lover to the long list of roles Booth played in her life. They fell back into silence as the world clamored around them, her hand wrapped protectively in his.

They'd resisted for years, too much at stake, he'd told her, not directly, they never talked directly. Too much to lose, a devastating amount to lose. Surely more to lose with every day that passed, every late night working together, every undercover case, every lunch at the dinner or dinner at the Founding Fathers, every time he consoled or counseled her through life's trials. Were they really everything to each other but lovers as Angela frequently told her? Were they at the point where what they had to lose by continuing to deny themselves personally was more than what they had to lose professionally? She wanted to ask him what the consequences would be for them, professionally, but couldn't help but think Booth would tell her that wasn't what she should base her decision on.

His thumb stroked her hand softly, evenly. He could feel the worry build in her and couldn't help but wonder if she was spiraling, thinking herself into a hole she'd never get out of on her own. Maybe he was wrong in telling her she'd have to decide if she was ready. Maybe she did need his help to figure it out. He felt her squeeze his hand and when he looked over she gave him a smile, her eyes conveying a peace he found infinitely comforting.

Physics. Science. Her area of expertise. Two people becoming one forging a new connection. His area of expertise. They'd come together quite nicely, she thought, better than nicely. The two of them one. Brilliantly, passionately, perfectly one.

"What?" She only shook her head but her smile grew and there was a look in her eye.

Leaning in, he was sure she was about to whisper something wonderfully seductive when they called their flight to board over the loudspeaker. She stood and he pulled her back. "Tell me."

"Booth," she whined. "We ...we have to board." She was blushing which only made him more curious. She tugged, pulling him up. This time he followed.

Guiding her, his hand on her lower back while he attentively watched their surroundings. She was used to traveling with him and certainly his protective nature but still, it felt different. At first, she thought it might be because they were seated together which rarely happened but it was more than that.

She settled next to Booth but within several minutes he had her switch seats with him so he was on the aisle. She hadn't thought much of it until the normal procession of fans started making their way to their favorite author. Booth was her wall, her buffer and as much as part of her wanted to argue that she could take care of herself, she'd handled aggressive fans for years, she was entranced by watching him. Would he do this all the time if they were a couple? She wasn't sure she would like that, but this time, when she was worn out, exhausted, and deep in her own thoughts, she sure did.

"Dr. Brennan is done signing autographs for today." She heard him but his words sounded distant, so far away. Standing momentarily, Booth became a formidable figure. "Okay, okay as much as she would like to continue to sign autographs, this plane's gotta get off the ground so if everyone could please take their seats."

Would this be their life together? Was he her someone, the one she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with? Booth believed in fate so of course, he believed this. She didn't believe in fate. Saying there's a person for everyone seemed the same as saying couplings were a matter of fate, but she couldn't deny how good she and Booth were together. They did complement each other. A life with Booth would be very fulfilling.

But she couldn't conceive of thirty or forty or fifty years, she couldn't commit to that, she was sure of that. The very thought, no matter how much she cared for Booth, even loved him by his definition, sent her into an absolute panic. This place, that she was trying desperately hard to leave, had taught her that nothing was guaranteed.

The plane was taxiing. Home seemed closer, an attainable possibility for the first time in days. She turned her mind away from the idea of thirty or forty years, let out a sigh of relief, slipped her arm through Booth's holding it tight, and settled her head on his shoulder. It was a three-hour flight and having made her decision, she was ready to rest. Booth leaned over and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

A/N: Sooooo …what do you think?