Chapter 17

"There are fossils of seashells high in the Himalayas; what was and what is are different things."

Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost

Booth walked out from the bedroom slipping his belt through his shoulder holster fasteners, buckling it, and straightening his tie. She was there, ready for work, belongings organized by the front door, filling their travel mugs at the kitchen counter.

"Bones, what are you doing?" Staring at him blankly, she stopped. It was obvious what she was doing and she didn't understand why he asked. "You read Cam's email, right?" Still, nothing seemed to register, "about the lab being closed today and tomorrow."

"I check my email at work." A look of deep sympathy washed over his expression and while she appreciated it, she didn't like it. Choosing to close her eyes to avoid his gaze, she set the travel mug she was holding down on the counter, felt her pockets for her phone, then directed all of her attention to searching for the email.

He took a few steps closer, talking, but it all sounded like gibberish, his words lost on her. Letting out a long held breath, she sighed, looked up at him briefly, then back down at her phone. There it was. Clear as day, with 911 LAB CLOSURE information tagged in the subject line, informing everyone that all access to the lab would be restricted to essential security personnel only for a day or two while they dealt with the shattered skylight. Her mind went immediately to the way the temporary plastic sounded as it flapped in the wind, a constant reminder that it was there to cover the gaping hole in the skylight.

Gaping hole.

That's what her intern's death felt like to her, a gaping hole threatening to swallow her up, leaving her to face a terrible dilemma. The lab was a comfort to her, a safe place, a sanctuary of sorts. She needed it, but at the same time, this time, it was at the center of her trauma. All morning was spent readying herself, mentally, emotionally, to face the lab, specifically the forensic platform, which she needed to walk past to get to her inner sanctum. She avoided it Friday, averted her eyes and walked briskly straight to the bone room. But, she was motivated, Booth needed her help to find Broadsky before he disappeared again.

Today was going be different, she knew it, there was no case to distract her, that platform would be front and center when she walked through those sliding doors, waiting for her. She would have to face it to get to her office, to the bone room, to limbo, to the sense of normalcy the lab gave her. She needed it, her structure, her routine, her lab and everything it offered her, to find perspective and process everything that happened, that was happening.

"Cam never emails on weekends." She added, looking up from her phone, staring into Booth's warm, brown eyes, "unless there's an active case."

"I know." His voice was soft and tender.

"You caught Broadsky."

Swallowing hard, he took a step closer, nodding in agreement as he watched her process yet another change. It was too much, he could see it, and he wanted to help but knew he needed to give her a time to process the information on her own. Don't push her, he reminded himself, kicking himself for not bringing up the email earlier in the weekend when he first read it. "Yeah, I did, we did...together...all of us."

"This isn't an active case. We don't have an active case."

Shifting her weight, she moved nervously. Where was her brain? It never failed her before, not like this. It felt like ever since that shot rang out and she heard the crackle of the glass breaking apart overhead and the whizzing sound the bullet made as it cut through the air, her mind was scattered, it was everywhere, all over the place, and nowhere at all. Certainly not where she needed it to be when she needed it most.

Her judgments askew, she let herself get lost in the weekend, in Booth, in this man and his silliness and his touch and his compassion, and whenever she felt that moment, Vincent Nigel-Murray's death, pulling her back in, he was there to pull her out. That was good, she thought, but not thinking about birth control and not checking email, ignoring the world like it didn't exist, that was bad, had to be.

"Bones." It was the third or fourth time he said her name before she acknowledged him at all. Each time he took a step closer until he was standing right in front of her, letting his fingers sweep her bangs behind her ear. "Hey, hey, you know, why don't you come with me to the Hoover today, okay? We can do that paperwork we didn't get around to this weekend."

This man.

His tone was light and playful, his eyes sparkled when he talked about their weekend and his pelvis thrust forward just a tiny bit, in two maybe three swift movements. She shook her head and let out a slight chuckle, barely audible.

"You, you're trying to distract me." She saw the truth of her accusation flash in his eyes when she said it. The strong, independent woman inside didn't like that, this was Booth trying to protect her. Groaning, she set her jaw and squared her shoulders. "I don't need you to, to babysit me, Booth. I can take care of myself. I'll just stay here, I'll...I'll work on my next book or grade some papers or something. I'm fine. I'll be fine on my own."

But she wasn't fine, he knew it, hell, she knew it, and he didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone with everything that happened still so fresh and painful. Taking in a sharp breath he breathed it out in one long huff.

"Maybe it's me. Maybe it's me that needs you, did you ever think about that?" Confused, her eyes darted across his expression for some hint of what he was talking about. His playful expression gone, faded away, she saw the seriousness of his statement reflected in his eyes. "Jake was my friend, Bones, more than a friend, you know, in that situation, in the situations we were in together, we were more like brothers...or...or maybe like partners, but closer, you know, in a unit you're together all the time, like a family." In all of that, the only part she could relate to was partner. Partners, she understood that frame of reference, he saw it in her eyes, so he continued. "In the Army, in the Rangers, our lives depended on trust, on that brotherhood, you know, that bond, like me and you as partners. I mean...we...we relied on that, we had to...to do our job, to survive." Booth stopped and took another long deep breath, this one slow and even.

"I thought I knew him, you know, I thought...I thought I knew what kind of man he was, and well, I never thought he'd do the things he did, never, not in a million years...I mean, the man I knew, the one I served with wouldn't just kill people like that." Booth shook his head like he was trying to shake it all off.

They talked about this before, but not like this. He told her things about Broadsky, about their time in the military, about how this felt for him, and she knew he took the man's choice to kill personally. It was an affront to everything he stood for. Honor was important to Booth and this man's actions were in strict opposition to the oath they took as soldiers. She understood, in fact, she used that in her argument with Sweets when he told Booth that he couldn't take the situation with Broadsky personally just days ago. Days. It felt longer than days and at the same time like it just happened, sometimes like they were still kneeling over her young intern's body.

"He threatened me, Bones, he broke into my house and held a gun on me, said he was going to kill me and leave my son fatherless like it was nothing like I was nothing. Collateral damage, that's all my life was to him. And he tried, God, he tried." That's where he stopped, leaving a heavy gap in their conversation. She could hear him breathe and she watched his jaw tick as he gathered his thoughts. "He didn't do anything wrong, Bones, that squint of yours, he was just a kid. Just a nerdy kid who answered the goddamned phone for me, that's all. He wasn't a serial killer or some dumbass counterfeiter, or a crooked cop, he was just a kid with his whole life ahead of him."

She felt her heart clench in her chest as he spoke and the depth and weight of Broadsky's betrayal became clear to her. Eyes burning, breath heavy, she raised her hand to cup his cheek and pull him closer. He blamed himself. He said he didn't. He said he blamed Broadsky, the guy who pulled the trigger, as he put it, but that wasn't true, not completely. She should've seen it, she should've known, this was Booth, of course, he blamed himself.

"It wasn't your fault," she whispered, but he wouldn't look at her, his eyes darted away.

"I wanna be done with it, Bones, I wanna finish the paperwork and wash my hands of the whole goddamn thing."

Partners share, he always told her that and here he was sharing his burden with her. She felt honored and protective and scared because she wasn't at all sure she could help him, that she could give him what he needed.

Nodding, she swallowed hard and spoke. "Yes, yes, of course, I'll come with you. We'll do the paperwork today."

"Good." Leaning in, letting his forehead rest on hers, he spoke softly. "Good."

His fingertips twitched against her hips and he pulled her closer, letting his lips fall on hers. It wasn't a particularly sexual kiss, not an advance or proposition for more. It was simple, meaningful, warm and soft and vulnerable, a kind of intimacy she wasn't sure she'd ever experienced. Pulling apart, she could see he felt it too. The corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile and he gave her a nod, she gave him one back.

Grabbing both their travel mugs, he headed for the door.

They were in this together, she felt the connection, partners, more than partners though, which sparked a silent smile and a spark in her brilliant blue-green eyes.

A few months ago partners felt extremely restrictive, now, the term seemed versatile. Applicable to both their professional work together and their romantic relationship, it was a word she found both comforting and terrifying at the same time, hurling her into a state of contemplative thought.

Everything felt familiar and yet startlingly different.

Something so simple as sitting next to him in the passenger seat as they drove to the Hoover felt new and yet it was something she'd done too many times to accurately count.

But, counting was easier than reconciling what was normal and yet felt foreign at the same time. Counting was a diversion, an aside, an indulgence which she allowed herself under the circumstances.

And so her mind played. On average they worked together several days a week, three or four, and in that time they rode together four to six times a day, in trips, to and fro, always an even number, there and back. That, times the number of weeks in a year and years they worked together. Taking into account that there were times they were together more than six trips a day Early in a case they may ride together all day interviewing witnesses, searching homes, offices, storage units, etc., sometimes ten to twelve or more trips, place to place to place.

Of course, other times when it was less, when vacations and digs separated them, the months they spent apart when he was in Afghanistan and she was in Maluku, and then there was Hannah. Her thoughts paused, then moved quickly on. There were inconsistencies over the years, more, less, thus the need for averages. And so her mind went, calculating their trips together into the thousands, over seven thousand, 7,488 times, like this, side by side, headed toward eight thousand, until she felt his hand brush against hers, tenderly wrapping around her own, holding onto her.

Biting her lip she looked first to their hands, then to him, his attention divided between her and the road, also familiar. Holding her hand, that happened significantly less times, in fact, she was sure she could count that with complete accuracy on one hand. And when he gathered her hand up in his, lifting it to his lips, and kissed it, and well, that only happened one other time in all the years that spanned their partnership. Friday, on the way home from the Jeffersonian after saying goodbye to Mr. Nigel-Murray's remains. Two, two times.

Bringing her right back to the beginning of her thought, life, their life together, similar but different.

And so her day went their drive to the Hoover, the way he ushered her into the elevator, the familiar pressure of his hand on the small of her back as he guided her through the bullpen to his office, his quick movements and mumbled comments as he made room for her to work.

"It's different, I know, but different isn't always bad, right? Sometimes, different is...better." That's what he said to her when her silence crowded them on the way into work. Different is better, she reminded herself as she struggled to keep her attention on completing the paperwork for Broadsky's case. This, between them, was better, uninhibited, freeing, like the last barriers standing between them fell away when she crawled into bed with him.

Looking up, she stared at him for a moment, long enough for him to feel it and look up from the stack of papers in front of him just as she looked away. She caught herself, remembering she didn't have to do that anymore, hide the fact that she was looking at him. Old habits die hard. Glancing back she smiled, the message in her eyes easy to read, their communication clear as their smiles broadened.

This was better.

This was them, the easy part, a reminder that these looks and the feelings that went with them were there from so early on in their partnership that neither one of them could remember exactly when they started. It was reassuring, evidence to her that this wasn't as new or different as her mind kept trying to make it out to be, not really, it was more an extension of what they always were. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looked back down at the lab reports on her lap and began thumbing through them. Booth didn't look away, not for what seemed like a long time to her and she loved that, found it comforting for reasons she couldn't explain.

Not more than a minute passed before there was a quiet tap on the metal door frame, garnering both their attention.

"Hey, guys." Sweets turned his attention to Dr. Brennan. "I heard you were in the building today. So, it's true then, the lab's closed." He knew it was, he got the same email from Cam everyone else did and while Brennan may have missed that detail in her harried state, Booth didn't.

Tensing immediately, Booth cleared his throat, drawing the psychologist's attention momentarily back to him. He didn't like it when Sweets did that, played dumb like that, especially when he was using the technique on them. He was about to intervene when she spoke.

"It's okay, Booth." Her hand moved just enough for him to catch the gesture. She was telling him to let her handle it. "Only for repairs. Only for a day or two." Eyes steady, she was insistent and firm.

"That must be hard for you, not being able to access the lab like that, I know how importa-"

"Sweets." Booth leaned back in his office chair, an act that could only be described as deceivingly casual, in opposition to the way he spoke his name which was curt, his tone a warning, plain and simple.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just know how hard this whole situation must be on you, on both of you. That's why I'm here. I just wanted to see how you're doing, how both of you are doing."

"We're fine, Sweets." The partners answered simultaneously, speaking over each other.

"Well. We're doing well, Sweets." Looking at the psychologist, her eyes darted to Booth, then back again.

She liked Sweets, she did, but there were times she felt overly cautious when speaking to him, knowing that everything she said would be analyzed and processed as what she was sure he'd deem some kind of psychological evidence to be held, stored, and arbitrarily applied to meet his preconceived ideas. His futile attempts to paint his soft science as a hard one, which irked her to no end.

"Good. Good. You know, we haven't really had any time to talk since Vincent was killed and I just wanted you to know that if you need anything, I mean, I'm a trained grief counselor, you know, and a friend, your friend, first and foremost, a friend to both of you, and I'm here, you know, I'm here for you. I can help. I just wanna help."

"That's great, thank you, Sweets." Booth answered as he stood, already making his way around his desk to usher the man toward the threshold of his office. One hand on his shoulder, a couple of firm pats as he turned him around and moved him out of his office.

"In fact, I have some time right now, you know, we could talk here...or we could go up to my office…" Turned around now, Sweets was speaking over his shoulder as Booth walked him out into the bullpen toward the elevators. "Or you know, you could schedule an appointment, though, you know, it doesn't have to be anything formal."

"Sweets, we're fine, okay? We're dealing with it just fine." Booth stood close, leaned in, all acts Sweets knew were purposefully intimidating.

"But, Dr. Brennan, you know she won't deal with this, she'll...she'll push it away and call it compartmentalizing and...and...and...she nee-"

"Bones, is fine, okay, she's dealing with it in her own way, all right? What she needs is for you to stay out of it, give her some time, space and time, that's what she needs, all right?"

"No. No. Not all right? You know why, Agent Booth, because I care, okay, because...because…." Sweets stopped abruptly as he carefully studied the man standing in front of him. "Oh boy, something's changed between you hasn't it?" Sweets was nodding now, nodding incessantly, his eyes wide, darting back and forth between Booth and his office where he could see Dr. Brennan pretending to look at the paperwork, her attention split between that and the two men standing in front of the elevator.

Booth was already denying it, scoffing at the young man, shaking his head, speaking in hushed tones as he looked around the room.

"Shhh, keep your voice down and no, okay? You got it all wrong. Nothing's changed between me and Bones, not like that, not like you're insinuating." Sweets watched Booth's jaw tighten, his eyes take on a hard, fierce look.

"You're being awfully protective of her."

"She's my partner, Sweets, my partner...and she's been through something horrible, of course I'm protective."

"And pretty confident she's dealing with it, Agent Booth, like you have some firsthand knowledge or something."

"I do, okay, but not like you think." Sweets shot him a look that begged explanation and made it clear his curiosity needed to be satisfied. Letting out a long, frustrated sigh, he tried to explain. "We're friends, well, partners and friends, and when Hannah left, you know, Bones was really there for me as a friend, a good friend."

"So, you go there now? Again, you go there again, as friends, because a couple months ago you said you didn't."

"As friends, yes, just friends. I'm returning the favor, that's all, as a friend, you know, we were both there, when it happened, when he died, you don't know what's that like, Sweets. All the grief training in the world doesn't prepare you for something like that, it doesn't...they can't teach you what that's like." Booth looked away, back over to his partner, letting out another sigh, then back at the man standing in front of him. He wanted this time with her, just the two of them, no interference, no meddling from friends, even friends with good intentions, he couldn't have Sweets in the middle of this thing they were building together. "Friends, that's all, got it?" Sweets nodded, dawning that goofy, satisfied grin he got whenever he thought they were making progress towards becoming a couple.

"Friends." The younger man nodded softly as he spoke, "got it." Stepping away, he pressed the elevator button, rocking back and forth as he waited. "Seriously, if you need anything."

"You'll be the first to know."

The doors opened and Sweets stepped in. Reaching around the open elevator door, Booth pressed the close door button, then stepped back.

That was it.

She watched him carefully as he walked back to his office, trying to read him, relieved when he stepped back into his office, grabbed the file from her lap, and spoke softly.

"Let's go home."

Home.

She looked relieved and lost all at the same time. Her home? His? Answering her unspoken concern, he caught her gaze and held it.

"Home is wherever you are, Bones, it doesn't matter to me whether it's my place or yours."

"Yours. It's closer."

ooooo0ooooo

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience. This winter has been a rough one physically, my autoimmune disease has been going nuts. One step forward, two steps back, very frustrating, but very much life, right?

Also, thank you for the wonderful response to the last chapter. It was a fun one to write. And thank you for all your support in reviews and follows and favorites. It's always such a pleasant surprise when the alerts pop up in my email, they brighten my days!

I owe a special thanks to morebonesplz and snowybones for help with this chapter. It's hard coming off such a fun, sexy chapter that's so well received and moving onto a building chapter that's setting the stage for the next phase of the story. They really can't compete with one another, though, it was hard to keep that in mind while writing. I was more than halfway done and ready to scrap the whole thing for much easier approach. Great advice and encouragement kept me working on this one instead.

So, what do you think? Did you like the chapter? Hate it? Please take a minute to let me know what worked for you and what didn't.

Much love

~DG