Chapter 18
"I really believe that there is an invisible red thread tied between him and me, and that it has stretched and tangled for years — across oceans and lifetimes. I know that it won't break because our souls are tied."
― Jennifer Elisabeth, Born Ready: Unleash Your Inner Dream Girl
She was tired and it was late, but she wasn't ready to leave the lab yet. Letting out a heavy sigh, she looked up from her computer through the bank of windows that walled off her office from the rest of the lab. Her blinds were open, which she counted as progress. She'd kept them closed most of the week, unable to bear the sight of the forensics platform without being flooded by memories still too painful to deal with. The whizzing sound of the bullet, the desperate pleas of her young intern dying, and blood, so much blood.
Closing her eyes she forced a long measured breath, counting to keep it even. One breath, then two, three, four.
Bound and determined to change what had become her reality, she forced her eyes open and stared straight out at the platform, her focus unwavering, she didn't even blink until the buzz of her cell phone alerted her to a text.
Courts running late. Caroline thinks another hour or so. Do you still want me to pick you up or do you just want to meet me at your place?
Booth was at Broadsky's arraignment. He'd insisted on going, which she didn't entirely understand. "I'm gonna see it through to the end, Bones. I need to."
Sitting up, she adjusted herself in her office chair and leaned forward, switching the papers in front of her so she could grade the next in a tall stack of student work.
He'd asked if she wanted to come to the arraignment, offered to pick her up on his way to the courthouse, and she'd thought about it long and hard before deciding against it. Not for the arraignment. Maybe the trial, if it went that far, if he didn't plead out. Shaking her head slightly, she forced herself to focus. She had other things that needed her attention after choosing to spend the week largely in Bone Storage.
Staring at the message, she took another counted breath.
Numb. That's the way she'd felt most of this week, a byproduct of her own choice. Numb seemed like a better option than overwrought, which is how she tended to end up whenever she let go and allowed herself to feel the weight of the situation. She couldn't help but think back to an observation her favorite night watchman had made standing right there in front of the very object of her torture. Feelings are good, better than being dead he told her, or worse, dead inside. She had embraced that then, let herself feel the sadness, the loss, and it had worked out, but this, this was different. There was no way this situation would work out. Mr. Nigel-Murray was gone. There was no way to fix that.
Another forced breath.
She didn't believe in ghosts, not even a little bit, but this place she loved, the lab, her home as Booth often called it, felt haunted to her. Everywhere she looked harbored some memory of her lively young intern, and the forensics platform itself stood in the middle as a painful monument to his death.
Looking away, she considered her options. She could leave. Nothing was keeping her at work except her own stubborn desire to conquer this demon that had invaded her life. She could go home, relax, prepare dinner for the two of them. With dinner out of the way, they could go to bed early.
Neither of them had been sleeping well and not just because of the sex. The thought of their intimate relations gave her pause, a much needed break from the heaviness of being in the lab. She smiled. The sex was...quite good. Better than she'd imagined it would be, and she'd always imagined it would be...very very good. A satisfied nod to no one and her focus slipped right back to the great expanse of the lab, empty, lights dimmed because it was after hours. She was the only one there besides the security staff, and they were scarce. They would make rounds to check on it, but with the lab closed down for the night, no one would be stationed to guard it.
She used to cherish nights like this one. Used to. Typing quickly, she hit send before she changed her mind.
I'll wait. Pick me up when you're done.
The phone vibrated in Booth's hands, drawing his attention to her message.
She worried him.
Not that that was new. He'd been worrying about her from pretty much the very beginning of their partnership. You'd think it would get better over time, especially now that things were different between them, they were different, and while he thought he'd worry less now that they were romantically involved, like he'd have more control or something, nothing could have been farther from the truth.
It was worse.
The English squintern's death made it worse, at least he thought so. It added all this emotion to what was already a big change in her life. She wasn't really good with emotions or change to begin with, and here she was all tangled up in a big knot of both. Big emotions. Big change. And Bones, she was just so damned independant. He knew what was happening, he knew she was going to force herself to face the monsters that lingered in the lab, and he knew she was going to insist on doing it alone despite his attempts to get her to let him help her through it.
She didn't have to do that anymore, she had him, but that was Bones, right? Stubborn, bullheaded really. Independent. Strong. Maybe too much of all of those things for her own good. Maybe he should leave? She was more important than Broadsky. His jaw ticked wildly, his whole body taut.
Leaning forward with his elbows on his knee, Booth sat in the courtroom, phone in hand. It was set to vibrate. Looking up momentarily at the sound of commotion, he watched as one case finished and another was getting ready to start. There was a ritualistic changing of the guard that took place between cases. Once, when they were first working together, he told Bones that. She got all mad because she was waiting so see some ceremonial thing and the bailiff didn't change the whole time they were there. Booth chuckled quietly under his breath at the memory. So damn smart and still so innocent and naive in certain ways. God he loved her.
People shuffled out, muttered protests of injustice or joy and relief, mostly injustice. Sometimes loud, sometimes quieter, usually depending on how many times the offender had been through the system. First timers were a more timid, unless they were posturing. Repeat offenders loud and obnoxious. Loved ones, if they were there, fawning over some inmate as if he could do no wrong. It was always the same, just different faces.
The next set of players filed in. Booth looked down at his watch. It seemed like it had been hours, like he'd sat there damn near all day. It hadn't. Time was weird like that, sometimes it raced by so fast and others it barely crawled.
K. He sent back.
One more case and it would be Broadsky who walked through those doors in bright orange, shackled. Booth took a long shuddered breath. No other case had ever affected him like this, but then he'd never been so close to someone who'd done something like this either. The whole thing still seemed unbelievable, like they were two separate men. One he knew, understood, at least he thought he had at one time. Now he questioned that, wondering how he missed a change so big in a man he used to call brother. Used to. Not anymore. This man, the man he was waiting for, was a stranger to him.
Booth adjusted himself, settling back against the cold hard bench, looking up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling and taking in a long, sharp breath. He held it, sending another message to Bones.
I'll pick you up when I'm done.
Letting out a heavy sigh he looked up from his phone. He should've done more than asked her to come, he should have just flat out told her he needed her there with him. She would've if he'd asked. Which was exactly why he didn't. She had enough on her plate.
Things were settling back down in the courtroom and they were about to start the next arraignment.
She'd been on his mind all day, more so than usual, like there was a usual for them as a couple. He smiled at the thought before leaning forward again, the bench letting out a loud creak when he moved that echoed in the quiet courtroom. Caroline turned around and shot him an irritated look that screamed sit still. He was all too familiar with that look. He'd seen it a million times growing up in Catholic school. Caroline as a nun, that was a funny thought. He let his mind wander momentarily. She sat in the row in front of him, clutching her attache case with both hands on her lap.
He hated waiting.
Shooting the best charm smile he could muster back at Caroline, he gave her a nod. She just shook her head in response and let out her own exasperated sigh.
He just wanted this to be over. He wanted to pick Bones up, hold her tight in his arms, bury his face in her neck, let her hair fall over him, tickling his cheeks, catching on the scruff of his five o'clock shadow.
He stopped himself.
The days had been long since they'd gone back to work, him at the Hoover all day, her back at the Jeffersonian, no case. Angela had been sending him daily text messages, concerned that Bones was spending too much time alone, removing herself from the main body of the lab, hiding away in Limbo, not taking breaks, not talking, eating only when he came and got her for lunch or she forced a snack on her. Even then she mostly pushed her food around her plate. He didn't tell Angela that. She didn't need that kind of stress, she had her own set of worries so pregnant, so close to delivering. This whole mess had been too much, and she probably knew anyway. Angela was pretty good at watching for those kinds of things.
Besides, he was handling it. He was on Bones all the time to eat, even if it was only a few bites. It didn't really work, well, maybe a little bit, eating under protest while lecturing him on the importance of not forcing people to eat. Giving him crap about how the preconceived ideas of consumption were at the core of America's obesity problem.
He took it, of course, arguing just enough to make her comfortable.
His phone vibrated in his hand and he looked down at her response.
Okay. I'm in my office.
Brennan let out a heavy sigh after sending the message. She was committed now that she'd told Booth exactly where to find her when she was done. It was a subtle way of forcing herself to stay where she was, fighting the urge to leave for home or the safety of Bone Storage.
It was much easier to distance herself from these types of strong emotions before Booth. Sometimes she missed those days, but not often. Emotions, like these she was facing, were hard, but the joy she'd found in her friendships over the years and in this new relationship with Booth was undeniable. She just had a hard time finding her sense of balance.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she didn't know how she would be able to deal with the death of her intern without him. He was there for her in every way possible. He gave her space when she needed it and held her tight when the enormity of the situation felt overwhelming. He encouraged her to cry and talk and made sure she ate and slept. She wished she was better at communicating how much that meant to her, she knew she fell short when it came to that and feared, at times, it would be a hindrance to the success of their relationship. Thank you didn't seem like enough, although she said it often.
She resolved to make a better effort.
Tapping her phone on its edge against the desk, she stared off before looking back down at it and adding one more thought to the conversation.
Let me know when you're headed this way and I'll make sure I'm ready to go when you get here.
Booth smiled at her message, leaning back against the hard bench and stretching his legs out momentarily.
Her intern's death was awful. The worst. But there was part of him, the part that believed that all things happen for a reason, that couldn't help but wonder what would be different if the young man hadn't been shot or died. Bones, herself, had mentioned it. It was the reason she'd come to him that night, she'd needed his comfort, needed to be with him. She'd been moved by how fragile and temporary life could be. "I think I did it because of Vincent," she'd confided in him. Worried that somehow that would put them in a bad place with each other.
It was inevitable, he told her. They were meant to be and already moving toward that when the whole Broadsky thing happened. But, he could see where the kid's death affected more than just that night. They'd spent every night together since then, something he wondered if would have happened if things were different. It stirred so much up, the shooting, the loss, it dragged up so many similar situations, so many memories, and not just for her. Staying together hadn't even been a question. He had been there for her when the nightmares came, and she'd done the same for him.
Out of bed. Out of bed, out of the room, that was his motto. He'd lived by it for decades now. He made it a solitary thing, his thing. Not with her. How many times had he been in the same position? He couldn't count. Cam, Rebecca, Tessa, Hannah, and not just them, other women, the relationships that never went anywhere because they couldn't handle it, they stopped answering his calls after.
Most of them stood in the doorway to his bedroom watching him. A silhouette in the dark. Some of them wanted to help, asked about it, some of them just stared, to...he didn't know, shocked, worried, freaked out, to say anything. Not Bones. When she found him sitting on the couch nursing a couple of fingers of scotch, instead of going back to bed when he said he was fine, she came and sat down next to him in the dark and waited him out. Nobody'd ever done that for him before. Just sat with him. He loved that about her. She was there for him in a way no other woman in his life ever had been.
The kid's death was awful, it was wrong, it shouldn't have happened like that, but what it did for them, that was….His thought was cut off.
Booth looked up.
Commotion in the courtroom startled him, pulling him back from his thoughts. He'd missed the entirety of the last arraignment. Looking around he cleared his throat and tried to catch up with what was going on. The bailiff was shuffling papers, getting ready to stand and call the next case. A group of lawyers were making small talk by the jury box, laughing loudly as they traded plans for the weekend and gathered their belongings, getting ready to leave. Others, Caroline included, moved to the two tables in front of the judge.
Booth waited, shifting in his seat, hands clasped in his lap, but no Broadsky.
He's next.
He typed, looking up after sending the text, watching for Broadsky. Still no sign of him. Leaning forward, he was about to ask Caroline what was going on when he noticed the closed circuit television being wheeled into place. She must have read his mind because right about that time she turned around, speaking in hushed tones.
"He's still recovering from surgery on his leg, or so says his attorney. Damn lawyer's trying to play the sympathy card to get him out on bail. It won't work, thank God, Hamlin is a bastard when it comes to bleeding hearts." She laughed and smiled broadly. "Just the way I like 'em."
Caroline was a great lawyer, a pain the ass at times, but a good person, and at that moment he needed her quick wit and sardonic sense of humor. It made him laugh, low and under his breath. His shoulders fell at the momentary release of tension and he mustered up a smile. Caroline understood. She'd seen the toll this whole mess had taken on Booth, watched it with her own eyes. She knew he was worn out, exhausted, and not just the physical kind of tired, the soul kind.
"He's gonna plead not guilty, Cher." Booth looked up and nodded, his eyes wide and somber. "I don't know if you knew that." She wanted him to be prepared for that, knowing it would be easier to handle if it wasn't a surprise.
Broadsky had no idea the evidence they'd compiled against him and wouldn't until discovery, so of course he'd try and get out of it. Such an arrogant sonovabitch, thinks he's better at covering his tracks than he was. That's okay. Once his attorney saw the government's case he'd change his tune. He'd be asking for a plea deal then, begging for one.
Court was called to order. The process started all over again. Different names, different crimes, same basic procedure. Caroline's voice, Judge Hamlin, Broadsky's attorney, all taking turns, all talking, making their arguments, issuing rulings, it was all lost on Booth as he considered the man in front of him.
Staring at the television screen, he watched Broadsky's every move. It was the first time he'd seen him since the day he caught him. He was in a hospital gown, leg propped up, bandaged, handcuffed to the bed. The hand he'd broken on Lisenger's skull was cast now, not just in a wrap like that day at the port. He looked pale, weak, nothing like the strong, powerful man he remembered, nothing like the man he arrested.
Jake's voice sliced through his thoughts. "Not guilty, your honor. I plead not guilty on all counts."
This man who'd taken it upon himself to be judge, jury, and executioner, who had no problem killing anyone who got in his way, who threatened Booth and anyone who sided with him, who'd robbed Bones' young intern of his life, had the nerve to plead not guilty. Booth felt his whole body tense and a deep rage rise up within him. He was about to leave, in fact, he'd already started to stand when he heard the attorney ask that Broadsky be released on his own recognizance, arguing that he was a respected military veteran, a man of honor who had no intention of fleeing the jurisdiction.
At that he sat back down and looked immediately to Caroline. This couldn't happen, this man couldn't be released. Caroline jumped to argue the point. She was sharp, forceful and emphatic as the two attorneys volleyed back and forth. Booth watched intently, his worst nightmare hanging in the balance. This man couldn't go free. God, how would he protect Bones if that happened? How would he protect himself or Parker? His leg bounced rapidly, his eyes darting between courtroom players until the judge finally interrupted.
"Enough." The man's voice was loud and firm, drawing the immediate attention of everyone in the room. "I am well aware of your concerns Ms. Jullian. As for you, Mr. Blackburn, your client can stay right where he is until he's well enough for lock-up, and then physical therapy can come to him. Bail is denied."
Broadsky's attorney tried to argue, but his plea was drowned out by the echoing bang of the gavel putting an end to the matter once and for all.
Booth was done. There was nothing more for him here, he was confident the judge wouldn't change his mind. Standing, he quietly excused his way out of the bench and left the courtroom. He should wait, he thought as he made his way to the elevator, thank Caroline for arguing against bail, hear the discovery schedule, find out the trial date. He was pushing the button to the elevator madly, pacing as he waited. Court still hadn't let out yet, or Caroline would be in the hall already. Pulling out his phone he texted her.
Good work. Let me know the timeline. I have to go. Another meeting.
He didn't hear back from her immediately. Which was fine. His mind was already at the Jeffersonian. He needed to get to Bones. That was the only thing on his mind now, all he cared about. He forgot to text her, didn't even think about it, just drove straight to the Jeffersonian, parked, and practically ran to the lab, stopping only when he came to the edge of her office. Standing there in her doorway, he watched her. She was everything. Everything.
She jumped a little when she realized he was there, startled.
"Did you text?" Reaching for her phone, she looked troubled, afraid she'd missed the message somehow.
Booth shook his head. "Wasn't thinking about that. Sorry." His voice was quiet and deep, apologetic. Smiling, she stood and turned away from him, turning out her desk lamp, getting ready to gather up her belongings in the dim light her display cases provided. She was talking, saying something, but he wasn't really listening. His need to be close to her overrode everything else. Looking around at the quiet lab he took the few short steps bridging the gap between them. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off of him, but not touching, which somehow made her want that contact more.
She froze, her breath heavy and fast with anticipation.
There was a moment there that she could've moved, continued her nightly routine, and stopped what was about to happen, but she didn't. She wanted him, needed him after such a long week and hard night, and he needed her. She could feel it. Somehow all that need bound together creating something overpowering, a force all its own.
When he brushed her hair out of the way, the tips of his fingers dragging across the nape of her neck, a chill ran through her. His warm breath fell heavy behind her ear, tickling, teasing. Small kisses, pecks really, then firmer, his mouth open, murmuring against her sensitive skin, how much he missed her, how much he'd thought about being with her just like this all day. The scratch of his five o'clock shadow as his cheek grazed the length of her neck. It was irresistible.
His hands, his hands followed the curve of her body from her hips along her thighs, soft but firm, strong, sure, safe. So safe she leaned back into him, letting herself feel, she could do that with him, let go and just feel. She'd never experienced anything quite like that with anyone else.
And she was so responsive, it pushed him on, he needed more, more of her, all of her. Bunching up her skirt in his hands, he frantically searched after bare skin. It felt good, the dichotomy of his touch, his cool hands against her warm skin, his calloused fingers rough against her smooth leg. She couldn't help the sounds of pleasure that escaped, they were involuntary, and he couldn't control his reaction. They were lost in one another.
The rest was a blur, an overload of sensory input.
The way her head spun when he whipped her around, their lips crashing together. The sharp pain when her back hit the shelving unit behind her desk. The rocking sound of priceless artifacts as they shook and settled back into place. The feel of their bodies colliding with one another, with her desk, all sharp corners and rounded edges. Her hands on his belt buckle, nimble fingers against cold metal, raised letters, and slick polished enamel. Cocky.
The shuddering metal sound as she pushed him against the filing cabinet, pressing in on him. The grip of his hands on her hips as he jerked them firmly against his own in one swift move. His lips, hers, devouring. A tall floor lamp he reached out and steadied before it fell over as they made their way to the couch. The way it slid out of place as they fell on it. The wave of utter and complete relief when their bodies finally joined, it was audible, feeling brought to life in sound. The pleasure of friction, the pull and push, the final press, coursing, pulsing. One, being one, not just with anyone, with him, with Booth, and him with her.
They never completely disrobed, though as she lay there underneath him, both of them trying desperately to catch up with themselves, she determined it was by far her most passionate and satisfying sexual experience.
The press of his lips to her forehead, to her temple, her cheek, his breath becoming more even and normal with each kiss.
"Hi." He whispered, his lips brushing gently against her.
"That, that was...quite a greeting." Her hands rubbed firmly along his arms and shoulders.
"Well, yeah, I missed you I guess."
"Me too- I mean I missed you...too, also, not that I missed myself."
Leaning his weight on one arm he carefully stroked her hair smoothing it away from her face.
"I caught that." He went to move off of her only to have her stop him, holding him close.
"Not yet." She whispered, taking in a long deep breath.
That's when they heard it. The loud crackle of a security guard's walky-talky followed by the beam of a flashlight rolling across the walls of her office. Her eyes widened in a strange mix of panic and excitement as he quickly pulled his finger up to her lips and urged her to be quiet. Tucking themselves tightly against the couch, they tried not to move or make a sound as they listened to the man's muffled report.
Nothing out of the ordinary, no explanation for the crashing sound he'd thought he'd heard.
He was sure neither of them took a breath until they heard the man leave and the sliding glass doors of the Medico-legal lab close behind him. They fell apart laughing, straightened themselves up in the dark, gathered belongings, and exited quietly, looking down the halls before making a quiet run for it.
They were safe and sound in the truck when he turned to her.
"I love you, you know that, right?"
"I love you too." Her smile was soft and content and she was quiet for quite some time before speaking again. "I've never done that before." She confessed quietly, "in my office...well, not just my office, never at work, in the lab."
"Really?"
"No. Never." That wasn't surprising, she was pretty strict about conduct in the lab. There were lots of arbitrary rules that he was pretty sure were all her own.
"Not even with -"
"No. Not even with Sully. You're the first." He glanced over at her, watching as she tucked her hair behind her ear. She looked so young, so vulnerable sometimes, it nearly took his breath away.
"That's right, Seeley Booth, the one and only." He added proudly.
He had a way of making everything better, always had, and while she worried about what the future would hold for them, his thirty, forty, fifty years still seemed like such an impossibility; she knew deep down her life would never be the same, and at moments like this, she wanted every one of those years.
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A/N: Thank you so much for all your patience in waiting for an update on this story. Writing is still going slowly for me and my health is forever complicating that, but I'm plugging along and promise to finish this (it's not over yet) and Two Tickets to Paradise, as well as some other stories that are still just ideas that won't leave me alone.
Thank you to all those who have read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this and my other stories, especially the old ones. It's always exciting to get a review or follow or favorite from one of those older stories. I am so sorry I'm ridiculously behind on acknowledging reviews for both stories. With the little energy I have, I chose to squeak out a paragraph here and there. Please know that each review and message means the world to me. They do me good in just about every way imaginable, including fueling the creative fires.
Thank you also to chosenname and snowybones for help in editing and being a sounding board for this insecure writer. The reassurance that something is turning out relatively how I mean it to in my mind keeps me posting.
I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, I'd love to know your thoughts.
Much Love
DG
