Author's Note: Listen, it's been a while since I've written any fanfiction. And I've never written anything for Bones. But I rewatched the entire series and realized I still have a lot of feelings for these two. This idea came to me in the middle of the night a while ago and I just decided to flesh it out and write it. I'm posting it because I don't know what else to do with it.
Stormy Weather
Brennan woke suddenly in the middle of the night. Jolted upright, panic and fear racing through her veins as she gathered her surroundings. Her grip eased from the blankets clutched in her hands as her body slowly calmed itself down and she became more aware.
She was safe. She was in her home, in her bed, surrounded by her belongings. It must've been a dream, she thought, lowering herself back down to her bed and cursing herself for getting so worked up over it. She slowly began to drift back into a peaceful slumber when the flash lit up her room. She knew what was next - the loud crack with the rumble tapering off to silence again. She counted - One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi, Four Mississippi, Five Mississippi, Six Mi- The lightning and thunder cut her off. Six miles away. She wondered if it was coming or going.
She knew it was irrational to be afraid of a storm. Only children were afraid of storms and she was definitely not a child anymore. She recalled being afraid as a child, but she hadn't been afraid of the storms as an adult. Not since her trip to Brazil a few years ago. She had traveled to Brazil alone - like so many of her other trips - to help identify the remains of victims from the mudslides. She had been informed that the surrounding area was still considered to be a danger, that the storms could change direction, that she too could become a victim. But they also said it was an unlikely chance and that she would be safe from any dangers. Every scientist will explain that nature and weather can be extremely unpredictable. She knew that she would be smart to be overly cautious. She over planned and over-prepared herself for the worst-case scenarios. But she wasn't prepared for the weather to change the way that it had. She wasn't prepared to travel closer to the storms than originally expected. But no one tells Temperance Brennan what she can and can't do - especially if it is to help a victim or victim's family.
Her last day in Brazil found her face to face with monsoon rains, fresh mudslides, and thunderstorms that went on for hours. Numerous times she found herself being pulled away from the camp by the mud and rain. But every time she was able to grab ahold of something or someone and pull herself back to safety. It was dusk when she lost her footing and began to slip into a dangerous area, panic rose in her chest as she reached for the closest thing she could find - a bush. As she used it to pull her weight up the hill and out of the mud and debris, the bush uprooted, sliding down with her. She yelled for help - screamed so loud her throat burned - but over the sounds of the thunder and rain, it was hard to hear anything. At some point, the camp disappeared from her vision and she had lost all her tools and equipment. She was slammed into a tree, which she was able to wrap her body around and keep herself from moving farther away. Her head hurt, she eyes burned from the dirt and mud, she was terrified for her life, and she felt her resolve and strength slipping from her each moment that passed. It felt like days, but she was told that she was only missing for 16 hours. Someone at the camp realized she was gone, called the cavalry, and the search party began before the storm had even ended. She was on a flight back home within hours of being located and cleared by paramedics. They had advised her to not travel so soon with the concussion and other traumas. She promised to go to the hospital in America once she landed. She just needed to be home, she needed to feel safe. She had never been more afraid in her life.
Now, every storm resulted in the same terrified panic. She needed to feel safe again. Every storm that struck forced her to seek shelter and safety differently. Sometimes she was driving home from the lab late at night, sometimes she was sitting in the diner enjoying breakfast, sometimes it struck her at home - all the places she once considered safe suddenly felt terrifying. But every single time she found herself in a panic from the storm, it didn't matter where she was, she could always find that safety in someone.
Instinctively, she picked up her phone and recalled a number from memory. She tried to count the seconds she waited to distract herself from the storm outside.
"Booth." His voice was heavy with sleep and she instantly regretted calling him. She wasn't aware of the time. She wasn't even sure how to respond yet, the fear was paralyzing. She hadn't thought of what she should say or how to explain herself. He always just seemed to know when she needed him.
She willed herself to talk. To say anything. Literally anything to him. But she couldn't find her voice. Thunder echoed through her apartment again, louder than before. She squeezed her eyes closed as tears threatened to fall.
"Hello?" He asked again, this time more alert. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sounds came out. "Bones?" She nodded her head as if he could see her. Her breathing became more labored as her partner waited for the response she couldn't give. "Are you okay?"
A few moments passed, she could hear him rustling around on the other end of the phone. She worried for a moment that he had dropped the phone in bed or that he forgot about her on the other end of the line. But then his voice filled her ears: "I'm on my way Bones, just hang on."
He had known about his partner's experience - after all, he was the one they called from her camp. He wasn't aware that she placed him as her medical proxy. He knew they had an unspeakable amount of trust, but this spoke volumes to how she truly felt about him. A doctor there had explained that she may have some PTSD from the experience, despite her attempts to fool everyone into thinking she was fine. Booth knew she would be fine physically, and he knew that she thought she would be fine emotionally. He wasn't a stranger to PTSD and how it sneaks up on you just when you least expect it too.
His apartment was approximately 6.34 miles from her apartment. With the storm and the current time of night, he was able to make it to her apartment quickly without any problems. He used his spare key to let himself in. He stepped out of his shoes, shrugged off his wet jacket, and abandoned his keys, phone, and wallet on the kitchen counter. He knew his way around her apartment in the dark, and if anyone asked he would say it was due to his military training. But he knew that it was because he had been over to her place more times than he could count on one hand.
He approached her room cautiously. He didn't want to startle her and scare her any more than she already was. He tapped softly on the door frame and peeked around the corner into her room. She was sitting with her back against the wall when he found her - legs pulled up to her chest, she rested her chin on her knees, the blanket wrapped tightly around her legs. Her eyes were fixed on an unknown object in the distance. His heart ached at the sight of her so afraid - his partner was usually fearless and in control.
"Hey Bones," he whispered softly as he approached her bed. He was cautious not to startle her and cause more fear. She didn't notice him until he sat on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight, spilling her body towards his. She looked over at him, eyes glazed and threatened to release the built-up tears. Booth read the panic her eyes held.
"You came?" Her trembling hands reached for his, gripping on to him tightly as thunder rang out around them again.
"I'm here." He replied unsure if she was asking a question or making a statement.
"I tried to sleep." She began to explain. "I tried the breathing exercises, and-and the counting, b-but then it was so loud and it woke me up and I just couldn't move and I just kept thinking about..." her voice trailed off with the realization that she might say more than she wanted.
"It's okay." He smiled warmly at her, hoping to provide some comfort. He brushed some stay hairs away from her face. "I'm here, you're safe."
"I took the medication from Sweets." Her voice breaking into a choked sob. Booth knew how hard it was for her to reach the point of taking medication, and then having to admit that she had taken something. He recalled Sweets writing her a prescription for Xanax to help specifically and only for this kind of a situation after she returned. Brennan was against the idea of having prescription narcotics in her home and exclaimed she wouldn't even fill the order. But she had the medication in the back of the medicine cabinet as a precaution, even if she had never intended to use it. "It didn't work." She confessed. Panic still evident in her voice.
"It'll take some time to work, babe." His arm had reached around her small frame and was holding her close to him.
"I don't like this." She admitted, clutching his hoodie as lightning lit up her room again. Although the timing of her comment would indicate that she was referring to the stormy weather outside, Booth understood the double meaning that she had taken the medication.
"Do you want to try to get some sleep now with me here?"
She nodded her head slowly and pulled herself away from his body, retreating slightly back to her side of the bed. Booth stood to remove his jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He shrugged off his hoodie and held it out for her, knowing it would offer even more comfort and security for her. She slipped it over her head and adjusted it slightly so it would fit comfortably on her smaller body. Booth crawled into the bed and settled into space next to her as she watched him intently. Once she knew he was comfortable, she tentatively lowered herself into the mattress next to him. She felt his arm wrap around her waist and pull her closer to him so her back was against his chest.
The minutes passed slowly. He was waiting for her to fall asleep before allowed himself to sleep. He knew she was still too tense and with every flash of lightning, she'd hold her breath until the thunder passed. Booth cursed himself for not closing the blinds before laying down. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest and wondered exactly when the Xanax would kick in to give her some relief. The next wave of thunder brought on heavier rain that could be heard splashing against the window and roof. Booth could feel her shaking slightly against him and realized he needed to do more to help her or she wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon.
"Bones," He whispered as he slowly unraveled his arms from her grip and started to turn her to face him. "Rollover, babe."
"Okay." Was all she said. Booth's heart ached at how small she sounded and appeared to be right now. She turned so she was facing him, her legs still curled and mixed in with his. He waited until she settled before pulling the hood of his hoodie up over her head, hoping this would help block out some of the lightning flashes. Thunder echoed through the room and she instinctively grabbed at his shirt and her breathing picked up again.
"It's okay," he kissed her forehead, "you're okay." His arm wrapped around her and pulled her closer, creating a cocoon around her. She tucked her head under his chin and let out a long shaky breath. Booth continued to whisper to her and gently rubbed her back.
The scent of Booth surrounding her, the Xanax, and his rhymic heartbeat was working on slowly pulling her into a heavy sleep. Eventually, her fists loosened the grip on his shirt and she became lax in his arms. Booth sighed and finally allowed himself to close his own eyes and fall asleep.
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and also let me know if you want more...?