Summary: My take on why and how Bones and Booth got together at the end of Season 6. Unique take with the personification of "Death." (I hope it makes sense.)

AN: Like everyone, I wished we were given more at the end of Season 6 and beginning of Season 7 for the start of Bones and Booth's relationship and I wanted to try to fill that gap when the scene faded to black in 6x21. But unlike some, I felt that it was a complete natural progression for them to get together when they did.

This is my first time writing for this fandom, and I really struggled getting into Bones' character because she is so unique and specific with her words and thoughts. I hope to write more for BB because they are one of my absolute favorite ships and I don't ever want fic about them to stop. But I think it will always be a struggle to write for her.

No beta, so please be kind if there are mistakes. And comments, follows, and favorites are the lifeblood of fic authors, so please be generous with those.


It makes sense really, that it was Death that finally brought them together like this. Death had always brought them together.

Maybe it was because he was a sniper, responsible for the death of so many. Maybe it was because she's a Forensic Anthropologist who reads life stories from the bones of the dead. Or maybe they are just two people whose lives are cursed to be surrounded by, marked by, and advanced by Death.

But here, under the cover of darkness as they find solace, security, assurance in the body of the other, they are not going to question the morality of the timing, because for them, Death has always brought them together.

The death of Gemma Arrington, a talented and beautiful young woman with a life so full of promise and hope destroyed by an angry and fearful man, brought them into each other's lives.

Seeley Booth, a father, struggling gambling addict, and lone wolf agent, needed help. He found it in her: Dr. Temperance Brennan, a young, but brilliant scientist, staunchly independent and stubborn. A woman who needed no one, and definitely not him. Or so she had believed.

They felt it immediately. The spark, the attraction, the connection. It felt preordained – fate as he called it. They almost gave in to their carnal desire to have one another on that first case. But something held them back.

Maybe it was Booth's last-minute reading of the universe and acknowledgment that their allure to one another was more than skin deep. Maybe it was Brennan's immediate reading of Booth's lineage and connection to his family's shame from his bone structure. Maybe the universe understood that if they fell now, it would be explosive and the death of their future together.

They left each other angry and confused, seeking out meaning elsewhere. But it only took a year before Death brought them back to each other.

Brennan fled the country for several months because she couldn't shake the feeling of him. Booth was in her mind, her dreams. She could still taste him on her lips. She spent hours ruminating on what would have happened if she had not left alone in that taxi. She couldn't escape him, not in D.C.

Booth focused his life on change. Going through the program and dedicating his time to his son and effort to his career. But every night before he went to sleep he could see her face. He tried and tried to reach her, only to be thwarted by her grad assistant at every turn.

The death of Chloe Eller, another young and beautiful woman full of talent and ambition, struck down by yet another angry and fearful man, provided a reason for Booth to call her. And of course, when she ignored him – the stubborn woman that she was – he pulled strings to get her attention.

Death was the catalyst for Booth and Brennan to reconnect. And after that case, they slowly worked their way back together. With each new death that they investigated they spent time together, testing one another, stretching the boundaries of their new-found friendship.

But a little over a year later, Death struck too close to home. Brennan spent what she believed would be her final hours trapped in the car with an unconscious Hodgins and she spent those precious minutes thinking about her relationship with Booth.

She wrote down her thoughts on a scrap of paper pulled from her most recent novel and poured her heart out to him. She told him that his way of life and beliefs confused her, but drew her to him, and that she knew that something about them was different because of the way she felt when she noticed his brown eyes on her. She pledged to him that she would tell him how she felt.

But once she was rebirthed from the dirt and gravel, the reality of the world came crashing back down. She and Booth were friends and partners, not lovers. And she was not his lover.

Then just a few months later, after the near death of Cam at the hands of Howard Epps, Booth made it abundantly clear that a relationship between them would be ill-advised, harmful to their work.

As painful as it was, Bones agreed to live on the right side of that line and be Booth's friend and partner. And she did as Death was the only thing that seemed to bind them together. Week after week and month after month, they worked seamlessly to solve cases and fight Gormogon.

But, just as before, Death had its own idea. Booth was killed by Pam, shot in the heart at the Checkerbox while Brennan was letting loose and singing a song from her childhood.

For two weeks, fourteen days, over 300 long hours Brennan thought Booth was dead, gone from the earth, and gone from her life forever. The agony of this false reality was almost more than she could bear.

She was transplanted back more than fifteen years prior, when the loss of her parents and brother were fresh on her soul. The pain of losing Booth reminded her that life was temporary, that no matter how much you loved someone, depended on them, relied on them, in the end you had no control over their continued presence. In life, you could only depend on yourself. You were the only one guaranteed to be there the next day.

Bones pulled back from Booth, unwilling to admit the pain she'd felt and refusing to ever get close enough to him to feel it again. She continued on like this for years, denying all connection to Booth that was not professional.

But Death had other plans. Once again Death sought to take Booth from her. The anesthesia necessary for the easy removal of a benign tumor left him in a coma for four days.

This time, Brennan coped with her pain by never leaving his side, reviewing all medical records, talking to his doctors, and creating a new false reality – a life in which they were different kind of partners: lovers, business owners, and soon-to-be parents.

Booth shared in this reality, living it in his coma as she read the story to him during their time alone. He spent minutes building their nightclub, reveling in their love, and solving a murder. He woke from his coma confused, wanting so desperately to return to that reality.

He was not, however, confused about his love for his Bones, never mind what Sweets had said. He'd felt it before, of course, in degrees. When they met, it was electrifying, but as they grew together, as Death brought them closer and closer, he understood more about her, her story, her personality, her secrets and desires, and her fears. And through all of that, he loved her.

Other's tried to sway him. Tell him that his feelings were just the result of the coma. Or have him double and triple think his plan to tell her that he loved her, because they had watched her suffer through the loss of him twice before already.

He tried to push it down, live only in their friendship and through their work. But he couldn't.

It was in Sweet's office, discussing that first case almost six years prior, when it all came flooding back. The heat, the desire, the deep, soulful bond that they shared coursed through his veins, clouded his mind.

That night begged her, pleaded with her, to let them cave to it. Let them finally give in and be together. He knew, he had always known that they would be so good together. She just needed to open her heart and set aside her rational mind and give them a shot.

Fear overwhelmed her. She did not deny her feelings, her love for him, but she was so afraid of losing him once more that couldn't risk it.

The weeks and months following, they tried to ignore their mutual ache for one another, push it back down, work through it. But they both knew it was there. They were at a stalemate. They knew that they both wanted more. He was ready. She was not, and she may never be. Eventually, they could no longer continue. So, they fled. Him to Afghanistan. Her to the Maluku Islands.

Brennan buried herself into her work, searching for new signs of early life. He buried himself in violence and into new romance. And they ignored their pain, which was easier with their new shiny distractions.

Death, however, knew that they needed to be brought back together. This time it was the accidental death of a young boy, so loved by his parents that drew them back to each other before their planned year apart had come due.

In the weeks that followed Brennan's pain increased. It doubled, tripled, quadrupled every time she saw Booth with Hannah. It felt different than when she lost him before. Then, she was grieving the loss of him in her life and their future. Now, she was grieving the loss of his love. He was giving his love to another woman, and somehow that was more painful than his death.

Then the death of a surgeon, who bore an eerie resemblance to Brennan, at least in her own mind, flipped her world upside down for three days. For those three days she was forced to rethink her entire life, her choices and her desires. And at the end she'd decided.

She didn't want to live a life of regrets. She accepted that she needed love and wanted to accept Booth's love. She wanted to be brave enough to face her fears of letting herself connect to and rely upon another person. She was ready to invite him in and move forward together.

It felt like death when Booth rejected her that night in the rain. His bold declaration that he loved Hannah, that she was not a consolation prize, was an arrow to her heart. But in the anguish of it all, she felt assured because had Booth easily abandoned Hannah, a woman who he claimed to love, then he would not be the loyal man she knew and craved in her life. His love, the love that she so desperately wanted, would be meaningless if it was so fleeting. So, she grieved the loss of Booth and the hopes she had of sharing her life with him once more.

Death acted more subtly this time. Through their seemingly normal work, Booth and Bones drew closer and Booth became more scattered. Confusingly he redirected all his energy into forcing his relationship with Hannah. He ignored her statements about living in the moment, seeking adventure, and not being the marrying kind. And in all of that, he got his heart broken. Bones was the one who came to him that night. She listened to his rant, offered solace for his tears, and sat next to him as he drank himself under the table.

Then it's Death at the hands of a past acquaintance, Broadsky, that brings Booth a new mission, a new reason to get out of bed and work hard day in and day out. While seeking out the rogue sniper, Booth and Bones draw closer once more.

They get stuck for hours together in the cold elevator of his building and are able to admit to themselves and each other what they want, but that neither of them is fully ready. Too much has happened to allow them to just jump. He's still angry and she's still wounded, holding on to the last vestige of her invincibility, too afraid to be strong.

When Death makes his preeminent appearance, he takes a person too close to everyone: Vincent Nigel-Murray.

Their fear of losing their own lives, of losing each other and their grief for Vincent broke through their last bit of resistance. They need each other in their lives, their futures, and right now in this moment.

If you asked either of them the next day, neither would be able to pinpoint the moment when the air shifted; neither would be able to identify who made the first move. But one second, she was laying on his chest—taking comfort in his warmth, strength, smell—and he was holding her in his arms like he'd always wanted, and the next second, their eyes met, their noses brushed, and then their lips were gently pressed together as they both inhaled.

The kisses were soft and hesitant until their lips parted for breath and tongues made their appearance. Slowly hands began to move over fabric, then sneak under clothes and across warm, smooth skin. Soon shirts were gone, and pants followed.

Laying there, skin on skin, chest to breast, Booth lifted his head up and met her eyes.

"Bones…" It was a question.

Bones, for all her difficulties with the subtleties of human emotions, tone, and facial cues, could read Booth's face as well as she could read the bones in her lab. Their connection was one that poets and songwriters dreamed of in their limericks. And forged by Death, their trust of one another ran deeper than explanation. They were soulmates, as Booth would say, and she would deny. But at that moment, there really was no other explanation for her ability to read every one of his questions in his eyes: Are you sure? Are you ready? Are we ready? Is this the right time? Is this real?

"Yes, Booth," she said quietly nodding and answering each one as it flitted across his brown eyes.

He smiled before he kissed her lips once more, then down her neck to her chest as his hands pushed her underwear to her knees and she kicked it off. He pushed his own down, kicking them off to be lost in his sheets.

He settled between her hips, resting hot and heavy against her core. Their breath mingled as he maintained eye contact. He used his fingers to check her, finding her hot and slick. Groaning at the realization that she wanted him, that she was finally ready for him, he gripped himself and ran his erection up and down her sex. He circled her clit with his tip before pushing himself down and then in.

Pulling away from their kiss, he inhaled a quiet "Oh god," and tucked his head into her neck, gathering his wits.

"Booth, please," she begged, ready for him to move.

He rocked against her, not pulling out, almost as if he feared breaking their physical connection would cause this all to fade away.

Bones would tell you that two people shattering the earth is not possible; miracles are not real; soulmates do not exist; fate is made up and nonsensical. But even she could not find a better metaphor for the moment they connect fully. It was as if everything finally made sense in her life and between them. As if, no matter how irrational it sounded, they were always supposed to end up like this.

Soon, years of passion held at bay and finally released overwhelmed them. He lifted up just enough to let the air cool the skin between their bodies and push his hips faster, harder and run his hands over her body until there was nothing but for them to allow their bodies to shudder and shake with their releases. Pleasure flooded through their veins and exploded through them.

When he finally pulled away and rested next to her on his back, pulling her to lay her head on his chest once more, he confessed, "Bones, I love you. I always have and I'm certain that I always will."

He feels her nodding against his chest before she speaks, "Even though I know it's irrational to say and believe, but I can't help but feel overwhelming love for you too Booth and, as much as I dislike speculating as to the future, I cannot think of a time that would come in which I would not love you."

He squeezes her to him tightly as he exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I promise you I will get Broadsky and this will be over. We will be able to move on from this and be together."

"I have faith in your abilities, Booth. I know you will come out on top."

It was at this that Death felt he could rest, at least for a little while.