Chapter 3

"But everything evened out eventually, didn't it – every wave subsided, lapsed back into the ocean, returning, giving them time to put themselves back together again. He was her moon. He balanced out her tides."

Katie Neipris

The streets were dark, rain stained with splashes of color stretching out across the pavement, a reflection of neon lights that lit up the city by night. Booth drove. She sat quietly in the passenger seat looking out the window, watching them streak by in a beautiful blur. It was cold and the sound of the windshield wipers seemed loud in the face of their silence. It wasn't a bad thing, there was no tension between them, just a long stretch of thoughtful quiet. Stirring, she resettled herself in the seat, pulling her scarf up closer around her neck. He reached over and turned up the heat, aiming the vent toward her. If he asked she'd tell him she was fine and not to worry about it, but he knew she was cold.

He was taking her home, back to her apartment after their traditional post case celebration at the Founding Fathers. She offered to get a cab, he insisted she let him drive her. It was important to him. His eyes darted back and forth between the road and his partner, hating the silence, but not wanting to disturb it at the same time. It gave him time to think, which he seemed to need more than usual lately. Letting out a long, deep sigh he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel and let his mind wander.

They spent the better part of their first morning on the case lost in a corn field. How fitting, he thought, even as he traipsed aimlessly through the tall stalks, because since their return to DC it felt like they were lost. Their partnership, their working relationship and friendship, constantly in a state of flux. It was exhausting. Every time she thought she understood and mentally reset the parameters of their relationship, things changed again, making it impossible to settle into a way of being with him for any length of time. He saw it in her eyes, watched her struggle with it, but couldn't fix it for her. Maybe that's why he spent so much time convincing himself and her that they were the same partners they used to be. He did it for her...and for himself...if he was being honest.

But it was a delusion, they were different, they changed. It was inevitable, right, entropy, wasn't that what she called it. They spun in different directions for all those months when they were apart, how could they come back together and just pick up where they left off. He knew that when he signed up for active duty, that's one of the reasons he did it. He didn't want to come back the same, he left so he could come back different, so he could get over her and move on, they both did whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Being lost in that corn field gave him some much needed perspective. They wandered searching for the crime scene, him looking, her following, talking like she so often did, for him, because she knew he hated silence. And there was something comforting about hearing her casually school him with a long string of facts and trivia. He missed that over the last month while he was recovering from the injuries he suffered on the last case. It took some time, healing, physical therapy, strengthening, getting cleared for active duty again, which gave him some much needed distance.

They met at the diner a few times for lunch, had a couple dinners out, always the three of them, him, Bones, and Hannah, and at his office, just the two of them, to finish up paperwork but that was it. A far cry from days gone by when they spent nearly every waking hour together. A glimpse into the future he thought. It took him back to a conversation years ago when they were in partners therapy with Sweets. Coffee. This was their real life answer. If they didn't work together, they'd have coffee, every once in awhile, to catch up. He didn't like it, in fact, he hated it.

In a way it wasn't all that bad, he argued with himself, that time apart. It gave him time to focus on Hannah, let all the other stuff go. He needed that. Chalking all those feelings for Bones, that thrill that ran through him when they stood there alone in the darkness of his bedroom, to pain killers and trauma. He had to put some time and space between that night and their partnership, find some perspective.

Because it was just a fantasy, right, one he'd played out a million times in his head, come to life. Bones standing there in his bedroom undressing him, slow and deliberate, the brush of those hands of hers against his bare skin. Those hands, God, how those hands captivated him, all of him. How many times had he stopped and watched her work, watched those hands? And then she was there, not like he imagined it, not exactly anyways, but it was real, tangible, and his physical response, well, was just that, a physical response.

Biological urges, that's what she called them, right? It wasn't love, couldn't be, right? Because he was over that. He was with Hannah now. All this was, was the memory of something they used to, well, never mind, it wasn't even something they used to have. It was something he used to want.

Corn in Mesoamerica. Corn. Now playing on the Bones Channel, he let her words, her long stream of information, weave through his thoughts. He couldn't help the chuckle, the slight shake of his head back and forth. Somehow the woman made even the dullest topic sexy. And with that, the old familiar thrill surged through him. He craved it. Brushing the tall stalks aside as he walked, he wrestled with it. With no idea where they were, where the crime scene was, he wished out loud he brought the GPS with him. God help him, he stopped right there, dead in his tracks, forcing himself to get out of his head and focus on the crime.

"Here you can be the periscope?"

She must have felt it too, the electricity of that night lingering, pushing it's way from the past into the present. He saw it in her eyes when she backed up several steps and shook her head, every bit of her giving him an emphatic no.

"Uh, no thanks." She insisted.

But she came, with a deep breath and a wary look in her eye, she put her foot in his hands and her hands on his shoulders, and he hoisted her up. All in the name of perspective. Maybe this was a test, maybe he did it not just to find the crime scene but subconsciously to prove to himself that what he felt for her, that pull of attraction, was nothing but the pain killers and trauma of that day all jumbled together in one hell of a night.

If so, it backfired because there it was again, that same sensation. She slid down, slipping through his hands as he tried to steady her until she landed, so close, inches apart, face to face. Time froze, they froze, and her chatter stopped. Standing like that, with her, it was hard to feel lost. His hands lingered, tightening ever so slightly on her hips, a little too long for partners or friends. Their eyes connected in that same old silent dance of theirs. He could hear her breathe, felt the intensity of her stare, and, in that moment, true to their old selves, neither of them said a word.

There was something else in her eyes, though, something he saw more and more, a hesitancy which broke his heart. Swallowing hard, she choked down her feelings for fear she'd lose him all over again if she admitted them, and he watched her do it. He hated that she'd become so careful with him. These days she hid more than she revealed. He missed the transparency they once shared.

"What?" Confused, Booth turned his head sharply toward her.

She asked him something or said something, he wasn't sure. Lost in thought, whatever it was it didn't register, just startled him back to reality. They were nearly halfway to her apartment and he didn't remember anything past leaving the bar. He was driving on automatic, muscle memory from years traveling the same roads.

"Is Hannah home yet?" She repeated. "You said she was working late."

"Oh, yeah...no. I texted her right before we left, she's still at work, gonna be a while. Something about a filibuster and the threat of a Presidential veto. She's says she's a victim of the twenty-four hour news cycle." Booth chuckled lightly, it sounded hollow, even to him.

Bones nodded, then turned her attention back out the window. That was her attempt at small talk. She made several of them since leaving the Founding Fathers, each died quickly after a couple back and forths. Turning his attention back to the road, he whispered, "right."

He missed the warmth of the bar, the soft chatter of the patrons, the comfortable feel of the evening. Like the diner, it was theirs. They should've stayed longer, he lamented, as he looked back over at her. It was his idea to leave, she validated it, excusing away the chance for more time together by telling him it was a good idea. She needed to get some writing in and he needed to get home to Hannah, surely she would want to spend some time with him too.

The woman who thought she didn't have an open heart, but always put the needs of others, especially him, above her own. Except he wasn't at all sure that's what he needed. In the face of a cold night, he wanted the warmth of the evening back, the ease he felt as he led her through the crowd to the table like he had a million times before. A nudge in the right direction, the tips of his fingers barely brushing the back of her overcoat. There was so much to celebrate, more than just the successful end of another case. They were "them" again. Relaxed with each other, natural, throughout the whole case. They joked and laughed and swapped theories, bantered back and forth, all with ease. It felt good, better than good, it felt great. Being there with her, in a place where he could raise his hand and holler to the bartender to bring them their usual seemed like the perfect end to the perfect case.

Booth settled in at their table, ready to relax, but Bones, she wasn't done with the case yet. He could see it build in her, the confusion as she mentally tried to reason out the concept of love. Cam and her doctor friend's relationship was right there in front of them, she couldn't help watch them from across the bar, comparing them to their victim and his sister wives.

They used to talk after a case. Bones, she would take it all in, every little detail, then when it was over process it all. Evidence, details, facts, she'd spit them out and he'd help her understand all the social and emotional implications which always seemed just beyond her reach, bridging the gap for her. Lowering her guard, she'd allow him to see her most vulnerable thoughts and feelings. It was their own brand of intimacy and he missed it.

Like everything else, that changed when they returned to DC. They didn't do that anymore, didn't go there, in fact, they barely even celebrated at the end of a case. Looking at her, he wondered if she missed all that too. Knowing, even if she wanted to go there with him again, she wouldn't initiate. She was too careful these days.

That was okay, Booth was ready and welcomed the opportunity. He'd been thinking about it since they walked out of their victim's family home on that first visit, knowing that love would be at the center of this case. He waited for this, the opportunity to say things to her he couldn't say outright, and so he led the conversation.

"So, this case proves, two's company."

Opening the door, which she graciously walked through on her own, he let the conversation deepen until he could guide it in the direction he desperately wanted it to go. Each answer leading her to another question, building on one another, until he could deliver a personal message from him to her, a carefully couched message. The one he hoped would reach past her defenses and touch her heart.

"What it means, Bones, is you can love a lot of people in this world but there's only one person that you love the most."

"How do you know?"

She asked him, adding some scientific mumbo jumbo to make her confusion sound valid and justified. He let her lay out her science, confessing her worry that she'd never be able to tell the difference between elusive notion of love and what she knew was a chemical reaction. She trusted him enough to ask him how and he gave her the last answer she wanted to hear.

"You just do."

Directing her attention across the bar towards Cam and her boyfriend, he stole a long lingering look, jerking his gaze away just in time for her to wonder if she caught him or if it was her imagination. That was supposed to be the end of it, right there. He just wanted her to know that she was the one he loved the most, regardless of who he was with, regardless of whether anything ever worked out between them, she would always be the one he loved the most, his Bones, his standard. But, she wasn't the same woman, she was bolder, and she blindsided him with a question so raw, so vulnerable that it pierced him straight through his heart.

"What if you let that person get away?"

Booth answered without thinking, no brain, all heart.

"That person's not goin' anywhere."

There was a moment where they connected completely, eyes locked, hearts pounding at the clear message sent and received between them. They dropped it there, quickly covering, it was enough for now, had to be.

Pulling the SUV to a stop in front of her apartment complex, there was so much he wanted to say, but nothing came, he just sat there watching as she gathered her belongings. He wasn't ready for the night to end, but realized it needed to. His eyes darted over her, everything that felt perfectly right between them, grew complicated and heavy under the weight of their acknowledgement.

"Let me walk you up." He finally said, his voice tender and soft.

"No, I'm fine from here, Booth." She was out of the truck now, standing there with her arms full. Smiling sweetly, she thanked him and said good night. He watched her until she was all the way into her building, past the security desk, juggling her bags as she pressed the elevator button. He couldn't seem to pull himself away. She looked over her shoulder while she waited, waved through the plate glass windows as she stepped into the elevator and disappeared. Booth sat there, let out a long held breath, put the truck in gear, and drove away.

What if you let that person get away? Pure honesty, without guile, his heart clenched as her words rang in his ears. And tied to her question, his answer, that person's not goin' anywhere. It felt like a promise.

God, he had no idea how he was going to keep that promise, but he knew he needed to find a way.

ooooo0ooooo

A/N: I always have so much I want to say in these author's notes and then I sit down to write them and...I can't remember any of it...

Happy Thursday! I am so grateful for all the feedback and love I've received for the chapters I've posted and this story so far. I feel it and boy let me tell you, it has made writing so much easier. Reviews are food for the writer's soul. I also want to thank Kickster28 for the sweet reminder message that it is indeed Thursday and time to post. That put a big smile on my face while I was out in the ridiculous heat running errands.

I meant to mention in the author's notes for chapter 2 that the scene when Brennan is standing outside the diner with the shell to her ear is where the title of this story comes from and why there are ocean quotes at the beginning of each chapter. (I've never done anything like putting a quote before a chapter before - do you like it? I fell in love with some of the quotes I found) I love that scene, her innocence, his troubled look of adoration, it get's me every time!

I love this episode too, The Sin in the Sisterhood, I think when it originally aired it brought such hope to a Hannah-weary fanbase. I love the way he looks at her, the barely missed back and forth glances they both steal. Ah...gets me every time!

Please leave a review, let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far, I am anxious to know what you think!

Much Love

~DG