This is just a one-shot. About the beauty that it Emily when she's portraying crying Brennan. About the evolution of a woman. About the man who loves her. And her tears. Read after "The Patriot in the Purgatory".
CRY ME A RIVER
"I could avoid it all before I met you."
"Sh, it's okay, come here."
Then she was in his arms, all soft and pliant. Her arms curled around his midsection, she buried her face in his shoulder, crying hot tears into his shirt; for him, for herself, for all the could-have-beens. The wine glasses on the counter long forgotten, he just held her, cradling her safely, wrapping her up in his love for her, his big and warm and crazy love for her.
Around them, it was night. Somewhere on the first floor, their daughter was sleeping in her crib. Murder and mayhem did not rest, but, for a moment, it was easy to believe that they might.
She cried for a soldier. A warrior. A long forgotten hero.
She cried for herself, for the girl she had been, for the woman she had grown into.
She cried for a long time, but it was okay because he caught her. His cheek in her hair, her soft fragrant hair, he murmured soothing nonsense, and even though his heart hurt for her, it was a hurt mingled with pride.
He thought about the woman who had once been sitting next to him, talking about strength and imperviousness; he thought about the woman who'd uttered with teary eyes that she was not a gambler; he thought about the woman with rain-soaked hair who had shed heavy tears of regret in his car...
Temperance Brennan was strong. She did not cry. Except that she did. Over a dog who had been put to sleep. A tiger that had been shot. And a lot more.
Tears made her eyes brighter and, if possible, bigger.
Tears made her look smaller, fragile even, although he knew that she was anything but.
Whenever she cried, he was lost. Had always been.
-BONES-
The first time he saw her tears, they weren't meant for him to witness. He didn't know why she disliked Christmas so much, all he knew was that being locked up in the lab at the 24th of December sucked.
He didn't really understand her Grinch-y behavior, didn't even want to. Until he eavesdropped on his partner and her best friend. Booth didn't intend to listen, not really, but after hearing the first words, he found himself unable to walk away.
So he learned her story. A story about a fifteen year old girl whose parents had disappeared around Christmas. About presents she had refused to open. About the new year that had found her in the foster care system.
Her eyes shimmering with moisture, she looked young, so young, and something inside of him rose. It was an age-old imperative and it simply said, "Protect her."
She didn't try to hide her emotions, wasn't embarrassed. It simply wasn't her style. After a few minutes to regroup herself, she was back to her usual prim self.
As if nothing had happened.
Something had happened, though.
And the imperative remained.
Protect her.
-BONES-
"It's never just the one person who dies."
The tear slid down her cheek like a solitaire, almost unseen through the curtain of moisture that was clouding his own vision, but he saw it, he saw it. Saw it and felt the weight of her hand on his arm, calm and reassuring when nothing else was.
"We all die a little bit, Bones..."
That tear, her tear, it was for him, and if she could shed a tear for him, he couldn't be such a bad man after all. He felt like it, though, felt like it.
His hand covered hers, and he accepted the warmth she was offering.
He had seen his brilliant partner vulnerable before, but this was the very first time that he had allowed himself to put his own vulnerability on display. To open his heart in front of her. A heart that had been open for her from then on.
She hadn't hugged him. It had only been a simple touch. But it had been enough.
That and her tear.
-BONES-
"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan. I work at the Jeffersonian Institution. I'm a forensic anthropologist. I'm specialized in identifying... in identifying people... when nobody knows who they are. My father was a science teacher, my mother was a bookkeeper. My brother... I have a brother... I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan..."
"I know you who are. Hey, I know. Sh... It's okay..."
A gentle touch, and the damn broke. Turning around, she flung her arms around his neck, finding solace on his shoulder, and, as her hot tears dampened the fabric of his shirt, he chastised himself for recognizing the soft weight of her body in his arms, for taking in and filing away the sweetness of her scent.
It was comfort. Just comfort.
It had never been just comfort.
Comfort doesn't keep you awake at night with fantasies. Comfort doesn't leave a picture engraved in your mind. Her tears... her goddamn beautiful tears... He blamed it on her tears.
-BONES-
Once he had given her a pig to soothe her tears. Meet Jasper... At other times, it had been a hug... It's a guy hug, take it.
He had witnessed her tears a lot of times before they'd been for them. The first time, she had cried for them, he had cried as well. Not on the steps of the Hoover, but later, at home, in private. Thinking about the pressure of her lips against his, he had tried to drown it in Scotch, but even as the alcohol had been kicking in, it had dawned on him that a memory like that could never be drowned.
The second time she had cried about them, he hadn't turned around to look at her. His heart in a nutshell, he had tried so very desperately not to be affected, but even upon telling her that he'd adjusted, that he was fine and in love, he'd known that he was living a lie.
A lie that had burst.
And it had been his turn to cry. All the while, she had been sitting next to him like the brave woman she was, downing her drinks, accepting his decision. Be my partner or walk out. She hadn't walked out. She had never walked out on him again.
It had been tears that had led to the change in the game.
Tears that had made her come to his bedroom at night. What kind of person am I?
He knew the answer, had always known it, right from the very first time he had seen her crying.
And if it hadn't been for her eyes, her damn blue eyes, he might have been strong enough not to kiss her that night. But the imperative had still been there. Protect her! Make her feel better!
Make her feel your love...
Kisses had mingled with tears, and, as he had felt her open body underneath his own for the very first time, she had pressed her hot cheek against his, holding him close with everything she had.
Until she had stopped crying. Until they were finally joined as one, falling into each other...
It's been a long way from that night to their kitchen, but his mind traveled it in mere minutes.
"It's the same for me, you know?" he finally whispered, and she sniffled in his arms.
"It is?"
"Yeah."
His palm rubbed soothing circles on her back, and he swayed her gently.
"Whenever I have to tell somebody that he's lost someone, I think about the ones I have to lose. You. Parker. Christine. Whenever I see a man grieving about his wife, I think about you."
"How do you do it?"
Her voice was a rough whisper in the night, and he pulled her even closer.
"I just do it. That's the price you pay. The more you love, the more you have to lose. And I love a lot, Baby, I love a lot."
"That's the burden," she stated, adding silently, 'Like wings...'
"That's the burden," he repeated.
Finally lifting her eyes, she looked at him with watery eyes, so big, so blue.
"I regret nothing, Booth."
A smile lit up his face, tentative at first, but then anything but.
"Neither do I. Never."
Using the back of her hand, she tried to brush away her tears, laughing out almost shyly.
"I never thought I'd be part of a family one day, and, yet, here I am. With you. With Christine."
"I always knew it, Bones."
"I know..."
Tilting her head, she sought his lips, and then he was kissing her. His taste clutched her guts with its familiarity, the soft moan deep in his throat caused her chest to overflow. Lips parted, tongues connected, his hands wandered into her hair. He was warm and strong and reassuring.
He was the reason she had tried to change, the one person she had ever needed more than being safe, and, standing here in their kitchen, kissing him, she felt more like herself than ever before.
His body was opening for her, she could feel it. Her palm on his cheek, she felt how he was leaning into her touch; his arms around her waist, he knew that she was falling into his.
Hell, even watching basketball games with him was more meaningful than anything she'd ever done alone.
"Booth," she whispered between kisses, and her heart was beating his name.
"I'm here, Bones, I'm always here for you..."
His hands swept under her shirt, finding skin and curves he knew so well, and, without blinking twice, she lifted her arms so he could pull the shirt over her head. And he did. Her bra was simple, but there was nothing simple involved, and he opened it with nimble fingers. Despite all those years of struggling, baring her had always been easy, and, as he took in the milky-white fullness of her breasts, he couldn't stop his gaze from flickering to her eyes; couldn't help but notice that there was more than one definition of "bare".
"Beautiful," he just stated, and she almost blushed under his open adoration.
His shirt was discarded easily, and when he took her into his arms anew, it was skin to skin. His muscles, her curves; his strength, her softness.
Lips met again in a sinful dance, tongues tangled. Tilting her head, she opened her mouth to kiss him even deeper, and he pulled her closer into his embrace.
"I'm so happy with you."
She heard his words, and, with eyes closed, she nodded wildly, trying to convey her answer with one kiss.
Time did not still, it simply cannot, but it certainly felt that way.
She was the first to reach for his pants, undoing buttons with flying fingers, but he followed shortly after. And when she pushed her hand inside, fingers wrapping around his half-hard shaft, his eyes closed on a blissful groan.
"Bones..."
"It's not about sex, you know that, right?"
"I know."
Using both hands, he pushed pants and panties down her legs, finding damp heat in the juncture of her thighs.
"But it's a nice plus, isn't it?"
She laughed out on a gasp, letting her head fall onto his shoulder.
And her fist moved up and down his length.
And his fingers curled between her legs.
Eventually, gravity got the best of them, finding them on the floor, and, as he pulled her on top of him, she wriggled out of her pants, and he pushed his own his legs.
And, just like that, they were both oh so bare in front of each other.
With a smile, he let his fingers dive between her legs anew, watching how her eyes fluttered at his touch, how her cheeks flushed, as he pushed two fingers into her body. Swaying her hips, she was moving on top of him, and his fingers followed her, caressing her so very intimately. She was hot and wet around him, and the feeling made him long for more. Burning ache coursed through his veins, and then she lowered herself, adding friction and pressure to his most sensitive parts.
Removing his fingers and lifting them to his lips, he held her burning gaze, sucking her taste into his mouth. She watched him with parted lips, bending down one heartbeat later, finding herself and so much more in his kiss. A kiss that wouldn't end; a kiss that did not end, as she lifted herself to align him properly, as she sunk down again to welcome him inside of her.
A gasp was heard and a sigh.
Being inside of her... it never failed to amaze him, never failed to consume him.
Being one with him... it always, always reassured her with the sweetest wave of tenderness.
This... it was meant to be like this.
And then his hands covered her buttocks, pressing into her flesh, and she moved with rocking hips. Moved until they were almost separated; rocked back until he was buried inside of her to the hilt. Spreading her legs even further, she tried to accommodate him deeper, and her breasts brushed over his chest with every stroke.
Every stroke.
It was a miracle, but it wasn't. It was the other side of her tears, the river she had cried for him. It was a sunny day on the banks, the soft sound of rippling waves and some birds cutting the flawless sky with their wings.
It was pathetic, but it wasn't.
It was just this man, joined with her on their kitchen floor, his head resting on the uncomfortable hardness, but his eyes shining with the sweetest warmth ever.
And she was moving under his hands. Her wetness was coating him, as her body was approaching its peak, tiny spasms gripping his flesh.
"Booth," she whispered because, even when there weren't words left to utter, there was still his name.
His palm curled around her nape, pulling her down, lips sucking her into the deepest kiss ever.
Her belly tightened, and then she broke free; broke free and shattered above him and all around him... because she had already cried for him, and this was just one more way to shatter.
And he followed her. Followed her and held her and was with her, as always, as his body was coming apart in hers, joining them once more and forever.
And the river was flowing.
-BONES-
Later, much later, as they had traded the cool floor of their kitchen for the cozy sheets of their bed, her head was resting on his shoulder.
"Booth?"
"Hmm?"
"When your friend walked in... what were you going to tell him?"
Despite everything that had happened since then, he knew exactly what she was talking about.
This is my partner. Temperance Brennan. She's also my...
I'm his mate. We have a daughter together.
"I don't know. Girlfriend, maybe...?"
His voice trailed off. How could he possibly sum up everything she was in one word? She wasn't his girlfriend, she was...
His partner, the mother of his daughter, his light in the darkness, his one shot at happiness, the person he couldn't live without, the heart outside his chest... Just, everything.
"That doesn't sound correct."
Her nose wrinkled, and he placed a kiss on her forehead.
"I know, you're so much more. 'Mate' was fine, I think..."
"Booth?"
"Yeah?"
She curled up in his arms with a content sigh, the burden lifting its wings to make her fly.
"Make it 'wife'."
The end.
Thank you :-)