BONES

I set the bottle of scotch on the bedside table then hand Booth his glass before joining him on the bed. His eyes flicker away from then back to me and I think he's not going to answer. He laughs again and smiles at me.

"I was just thinking about," He looks pointedly at his genitals then at me again, "Well, you know. Just… wow."

"Fellatio," I offer. His smile fades and he looks confused.

"What?"

"Fellatio," I repeat. "When oral sex is performed upon a female's genitals it is referred to as cunnilingus, but when oral sex is performed on a male's genitals it is called—" He holds up a hand to stop me.

"I know what it's called, Bones," he interrupts. "As a matter of fact, I'd lay odds you don't know half the words that—"

"You're so uptight about sex," I accuse, laughing. He scowls at me.

"I am not," he shoots back. I'm the exact opposite of uptight. I'm cool as a cucumber." He says the strangest things sometimes.

"I don't know what that means," I admit honestly.

"It means talking about sex doesn't bother me… at all," he proclaims. I take a sip of the scotch I'm holding and dare him again over the rim of my glass…

"Then say it."

"Oh, I think you've said it enough for both of us," he stalls, then takes a long drink. Tipping back mine, I empty the glass and leaning over, sit it next to the scotch bottle.

"I don't know why you're so uncomfortable," I tell him truthfully, flinging one of my legs over his and lowering myself onto his lap. "Fellatio has been practiced since Ancient Egyptian times," I continue, laying my arms over his shoulder and fingering the back of his neck the way he likes. "According to Egyptian mythology, after Seth murdered his brother, Osiris, he dismembered him then scattered his body parts across the land. When the last piece was found - his penis-" Booth shifts beneath me.

"Geez, Bones, no. No," he insists, but I've no idea what was bothering him.

"What's wrong?" I ask. I don't think I like the way he's looking at me, because this look usually means I've inadvertently committed some grievous act against etiquette or the rules of social engagement… or he finds something painful.

"You don't just go around talking about a guy's… you know…"

"Penis," I help. He rolls his eyes heavenward and sighs.

"Yessssss."

"I'm sure Osiris won't mind. He's dead," I remind Booth, emphasizing the last word.

"That's not what I mean," he retorts. "You know…" he looks down at his genitals, "and chopping, it puts an image in a guy's head – a painful one."

"I don't know why," I laugh, then continue "It's not your penis. If it makes you feel better, Osiris's wife, Isis, found his penis and it's said she blew on it to bring him back to life. The myth is one of the oldest mentions of fellatio—" He sighs again.

"Back to that again…" I ignore the comment and take his glass out of his hand and set it on the table next to mine.

"When Pompeii was uncovered," I continue, sliding my hands under his robe, feathering my fingers across his chest, "Archaeologists made specific mention of ancient baths decorated with very graphic frescoes in which both cunnilingus and fellatio were featured."

"Oh, boy…" he sighs again. I slip off the bed, his eyes following me.

"Take off your robe," I tell him in the low voice that I've found makes him smile. Shifting to one side then the other on the bed, he frees his robe and it quickly finds a home on the floor.

"The Kama Sutra, written in 300 AD," I continue, positioning myself on my knees behind him, "Offers step-by step instruction on how to perform fellatio. 'When your lover catches your penis," I slide my arms around him, and take his budding erection in hand. A flash of lightening brightens the room "In her hand and, shaping her lips to an 'O' lays them lightly to its tip," I make and 'O' with my fingers and mimic, "Moving her head in tiny circles, this first step is called Nimitta,'" I quote, circling a finger around the tip. He draws in a swift breath, then tries to sound unaffected by the touch. His erection tells another story.

"I never pictured you sitting around reading sex books." I laugh, then slide my hands upward, caressing his abdomen.

"The Kama Sutra, is not a 'sex book,'" I correct. "It's divided into five sections and only two provide sexual guidance in some form."

"I'm sure Sister Mary Teresa would disagree," he quips, then moans softly when my finger circles his belly button and I brush parted lips over his shoulder simultaneously.

"Then, she would be wrong," I insist, drawing my hands up to his chest. "The Kama Sutra is about relationships both professional and personal. Itacknowledges the importance of building a relationship, developing a connection, enriching it and views sex as a measured expression of consensual love."

"All I hear is sex," he jokes.

"'When a man under some pretext or other goes in front or alongside of a woman and touches her body with his own, it's called a touching embrace,'" I counter, "Or the equivalent of what we consider a hug today. Embracing and touching are as important to a relationship as sex, as they not only create a physical connection but also serve as a reminder of affection. It's actually very much in keeping with your thoughts on love and sex." This draws another laugh as I move around him and straddle his lap. His hands catch my hips and he eases me down when I lean in and kiss him.

I have a hard time deciding what I like more: The way he hums at the beginning of the first kiss or the or the way his fingers dig into my hips indicating his pleasure. Or maybe what I like most is that he doesn't hide his desire or how he feels about me. Perhaps I like it all equally. Perhaps it doesn't matter at all which I like most. He stirs in me feelings that I've never experienced before and makes me feel even more connected to him than I had been, which I truthfully did not think possible.

"How's that?" Booth murmurs the question against my lips. My lips leave his and I wait until his eyes meet with mine then start stroking his bottom lip with the pad of my thumb. According to the book, most men love it when attention is paid to this area and if the way he is doing likewise to my waist and the way his eyes warm up is any indication, the book is correct on this point.

"'When a man and a woman are very much in love with each other,'" I begin to recite, switching to cupping one side of his face while I caress and brush kisses over the other side. I smile against his cheek when I hear him hum. "And not thinking of any pain or hurt, embrace each other…" I switch to the other side of his face, "as if they were entering into each other's bodies.'" Booth tugs loose the tie of my robe then wraps me firmly in his embrace and covers my lips with his in one smooth motion.

"Mmmm," he hums against my lips, "The sexy scientist's sex book agrees with me," he gloats between kisses. Maybe Angela's right. Maybe I do sometimes underestimate Booth's intellect. I didn't need to explain the quote as I had anticipated, not at all. Still there is something I must address immediately. Planting my palms against his chest, I effectively end the kiss when I put space between us.

"You know I do not like to be called that," I reproach. He is unabashed. With a smile he draws me back in and begins peppering supple kisses down my neck, pausing at the spot he'd discovered earlier is one of my erogenous zones. His words are a whisper soft breath against the damp skin where his lips had been. I close my eyes, focusing solely on the sensations that bathe my body.

"You didn't like 'Bones' at first, but it grew on you."

"It did not," I object. Even I'm aware that my breathy words and the way my fingers flex against his back as his lips journey further south make my statement sound hollow. He laughs low in his throat, pleased with himself. "I just resigned myself to the fact that no matter how much I protested or demanded otherwise, you would not be deterred. You're a very stubborn man."

"Determined," he corrects while lifting his head. His eyes catch mine and hold. "A determined man." With a soft groan, he gives in to temptation and leans in to kiss me again. When our lips part, our eyes meet again. "Why have you never called me Seeley?" he asks, tucking my hair behind my ears. I find the question quite odd but answer anyway.

"Well, to begin with, you don't like it when people call you Seeley." He nods his head once in agreement.

"And?" My brows draw together. I'm not at all sure where he is going with this.

"And, we're partners. It would be unprofessional to refer to you by your given name." He seems amused by my answer, confusing me further.

"And…?" He prompts again.

"Because you're Booth. You've only ever been Booth to me."

"Do you know what I think of when I call you Bones?" He brushes his lips against my forehead. "Trust…" Then one cheek… "Faith…" then the other. "Friendship…" His lips touch my left eye… "Happiness…" Then the right, before resting his forehead against mine. "And love. 'Bones' is our story: How we met, how we became partners, then friends…" His eyes crinkle when he smiles. "How we fell in love."

I have no words. I'm not the romantic one – that's Booth's department. I do, however, know how to express what they make me feel. With a hand to the back of his neck, I draw him to me and kiss him, pouring every ounce of what I feel for him into it. When our lips part, our eyes catch and what I see in his brown eyes makes thoughts of exploring his body as he'd just done mine and trying some of those suggestions from the Kama Sutra flee from my mind. Instead, I find I want to submerge myself in sensation… feelings…

And Booth.

From the soft desire in his eyes and the way he's threaded his fingers through my hair, he's of the same mind. I palm the back of his neck and ease him down onto the bed, his hand against the back of my head taking me with him. In no time, he skims off my robe and tosses it over the side of the bed then sealing his lips to mine, rolls with me until I'm beneath him. I laugh softly. I've learned in these past few days that Booth is a generous lover, determinedly setting aside his own needs to make certain mine are assuaged. Right now, there is only one thing that will satisfy me and it will only take a single word to get it…

"Booth…" His lips had left mine to travel along my neck then over my sternum while I was lost in my thoughts. Now, they pause just above my hardened nipple and his head snaps up, his eyes searching my face. Sliding his arms beneath my shoulders, his weight supported on his forearms, he shifts upwards then rests his forehead against mine.

"Bones…" he breathes. I recognize the look on his face, one that is never displayed in public and I suspect he allows only when with me. The whisper of my name is not meant as an endearment or an expression of desire. It's a show of his own vulnerabilities, a reminder that he no less breakable than I…

It's a request that I turn things lighter and a warning that If I don't, if I go with him where I wish to, I alone hold the power to reinforce his belief in love, his faith in us or to finally resign himself to what he's always feared: He doesn't deserve to be loved like other people do.

"There's something wrong here…"

No, it's that there is something so right there, that it frightens me how much I want what it is he's offering…

Something I want so badly that it outweighs my own fears that I may not be enough for him.

I lay one palm on the back of his neck and another on his shoulder…

Then smile. It's the only answer he needs and his smile in return makes my skin flush warm.

We danced, our bodies rising and falling, bending and arching in sync, glancing touches like soft whispers against our flesh. We're silent, no words shared, our heavy breaths mingling with the sounds of waves crashing, thunder rumbling and lightning cracking. A breeze coming off the water bathes us, the contrast between our hot, damp bodies and the coolness of the air turning our love making all the more sensual. A sound of frustration passes my lips, my body thrashing beneath his. I want to be closer, I want to feel more, to lose myself in him. He shifts, taking most of his weight on one arm, his other hand stroking down the outside of my thigh, before he lifts my leg over his hip while bending his leg and wedging his knee into the mattress. This time my moan is of pure satisfaction, his pelvis grinding into mine with each thrust, making me ache for release but at the same time not wanting this to end. I wage a battle with myself that last mere seconds, when Booth shifts again and, resting against both forearms once more, touches his lips to my neck while weaving his fingers with mine. Both gestures are so… intimate… that my back arches off the bed as my orgasm crashes over me with more force than the waves hitting the shore outside. It is only when his hands grip mine that I realize he's lost his own battle and I focus all my attention on his presence inside me, feeling the warmth spread through me as he expends his body in mine.

Booth lowers his head and with well-placed touch of his lips on the sensitive skin of my neck, distracts me as he eases his body from mine. A few lingering kisses later, he stretches out on his side next to me. I mimic his position, resting my head on my pillow, his hand sweeping my hair back from my face before I have the chance then capturing my hand in his and pressing a kiss against my knuckles.

He smiles.

I am beginning to understand what the saying 'Happiness is like influenza' means.

And I smile back at him.

"Brennan. You're not alone in this."

"I know I'm not alone."

I'm in a basement. It's cold and dank. I can hear water dripping. Sniffling. Clanging. A scuffle. I run towards the sound.

Without conscious thought, I aim the gun and fire.

"I had to shoot him," I mumble, staring at the man lying not far from my feet, his wide-open eyes gazing at me in death…

Screams. I hear screams.

No, not my screams. Other people's screams. They're running, but from what?

Wait.

I'm in a club.

I'm in the club.

The obese woman lays on the floor near the bar.

I let the gun fall from my hand.

Booth. He's laying on the floor next to me, blood streaming from his chest, stunned and his eyes losing focus.

"Booth, you're going to be fine. I'm right here. Come on." I place my hand on his chest, applying pressure, trying to staunch the bleeding. "You can do this. You're going to be fine. You can make it. Come on!" His eyes stare up at me, but he's not seeing me. "You're going to make it. Come on! Come on, Booth! Come on!" I lift him to me. "You're going to make it. You're going to do this. Come on. Come on, Booth…"

Colored lights are flashing everywhere, blinding me, as I run alongside the stretcher with Booth on it from inside the darkened club towards the ambulance waiting for him.

My hand clutches his.

"I'm here, Booth. You have to fight. Booth! You have to fight!"

"Miss, you can't go." I aim a furious look at the paramedic speaking to me.

"I'm a doctor and he's my partner!" I insist, avoiding the hand reaching out to grasp my arm and throwing myself towards the open back of the ambulance. An arm circles my waist before I can make it onboard. "Put me down!" I scream. "Let go of me! He's my partner!" I struggle against my assailant, who lifts me from my feet, trying to stop me from resisting. My feet find purchase on the bumper of the ambulance and I push off as hard as I can, taking us both to the ground. I scramble to get up. Another set of hands grab me. "Get off of me!" I scream. "Get off of me!"

"Let her go!" Hodgins shoves his body between me and the E.M.T. "C'mon, Dr. B. We'll be right behind him…"

The fluorescent lights of the waiting room are blinding. Exhausted and terrified I drop my head into my hands, oblivious. The sight of Booth's blood on my pants is more than I can take and I close my eyes, rocking myself, trying to find some form of comfort.

I yank my head up at the sound of the whirring motor of automatic doors. At the form of the man in the blue scrubs and surgical cap I am on my feet and stopping in front of him before the people with me even realize what's going on.

"Booth? Agent Seeley Booth? Is he alright? Can I see him?" I rapid-fire the words at the doctor before me.

"I'm sorry to inform you…" I take a step back, shaking my head, stumbling over the pair of feet directly behind me.

"No. No!" I insist.

"Despite doing everything within our abilities-"

"No! No! Booth!" I scream towards the hallway the doctor had just emerged from.

"—Agent Booth was unable to overcome-"

"Where is he? I need to see him. Where's Booth?" I shove past him and crash into the doors the surgeon had just exited. They don't budge. I grab the handles of the door and pull frantically, again and again. The windows rattle at my efforts. "Where's Booth?! Booth! Booth!—"