The second part of my four-part "The Grave Digger: what happened next?" series. Of course, this is what happened after "The Hero in the Hold." I just watched it again in preparation to write this chapter, and I forgot how great that episode was. I found the conversations between Booth and Teddy to be very telling about where Booth's head was at, especially in regards to his feelings for Brennan.
This is long. Apparently, Booth had a lot to go through following his turn with the Grave Digger. There was quite a bit to unpack after "The Hero in the Hold," though, so I guess it makes sense.
And apparently I have a thing about Booth being in the bath, because there are several instances in which he ends up there during this chapter. It's a thing. Just go with it.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This chapter title comes from the song "Bad Liar" by Imagine Dragons.
"Are you sure you don't want to go back to the hospital?" Brennan eyed her partner warily, studying him closely for any signs of distress. He had only been in the hospital for a few hours after his rescue, and had barely tolerated the little bit of treatment he did allow. When he had turned those eyes towards Brennan and asked her to take him to Arlington, Brennan knew that she couldn't say no.
So she had given him a duffle with a change of clothes and a bag of toiletries she had pilfered from Booth's apartment. She remembered, when leaving the hospital after she and Hodgins had been found, one of the things that Brennan had most wanted was to be comfortable in her own, clean clothes. Booth had smiled gratefully at her—if a little sadly—when he accepted the bag from her. By putting on a suit, Booth was able to feel normal, for at least a little bit.
On the way, Booth had been abnormally quiet and lost in thought. It wasn't until they had arrived at Arlington that he had relaxed a little, and he even seemed almost at ease as he explained to Brennan just who Corporal Edward Parker was, and what he had asked Booth to do. It still seemed rather absurd to Brennan, but it was just so very Booth that she went along with it. To her, it was a sign that even after his own traumatic experience with the Grave Digger, Booth would eventually be okay.
Booth sent her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He had been driven to fulfill Teddy Parker's last request since climbing on that helicopter. Now that he had succeeded… that listless feeling was coming back, the darkness that he had been fighting since he realized just what had happened to him creeping up.
"I'm fine, Bones," he assured her. They reached her car, with Booth going towards the passenger seat without any compliant. The fact that he was letting Brennan drive without a word of argument really spoke volumes.
In fact, Booth climbed into the seat, rubbed his hands over his face, and closed his eyes as his head tipped back against the headrest. There was a tension in his jaw that Brennan wasn't used to seeing and he seemed tightly coiled, ready to attack at the first sign of a threat.
Brennan had wondered, when she had first picked Booth up from the hospital, if he would want her to stay with him the way he had with her, over two years ago. For as many people that tried to claim Brennan was closed off and didn't want to need any help, Booth was even worse. Watching him now, Brennan's mind was made up. She was going to stay with Booth for as long as he needed, no matter how much he wanted to pretend that he was alright.
So she wordlessly drove back to Booth's apartment. When she pulled into a parking space, she reached for her purse and her go-bag, giving Booth a look that no one would dare argue with. When she had started working with Booth, she had began keeping a bag packed in her car, never knowing when a case would pop up or where it would take them. She was glad for that level of preparedness now.
Booth didn't say anything either way as they made their up to his apartment. He unlocked the door and immediately turned on the light in the hall, before moving through every room in the apartment, methodically turning on every single light he owned. Brennan pressed her lips together, remembering her own reluctance to stay in the dark. She wondered how aware Booth was of his actions, but chose not to comment on them. It had barely been twelve hours since he had been rescued, after all. Booth likely needed space to think about what he had just been through.
It suddenly struck Brennan that Booth had been through something like this before. He had been in captivity, had been trapped with little hope of escape. That time, he had been beaten and abused, held for weeks instead of hours. Like now, it had been a miracle that he had been rescued. He had survived. The fact that he'd had to experience this more than once in his life crushed her heart in a way that she wasn't sure she had ever experienced before.
Two years ago, Booth hadn't known that Brennan had been trapped in a car once before—and he still didn't know just how deeply Brennan's capture by the Grave Digger had affected her due to her previous childhood abuse. It was still a secret that she guarded carefully. Still, he had managed to do and say exactly the right things. He hadn't pried too much, hadn't asked too many questions, as he sometimes had a tendency to do. Booth had been there for her, and Brennan had an almost desperate need to be there for him now.
She cared about him. He was her friend, her partner. Booth was always there for everyone else, and he deserved to have someone in his corner, too. Brennan could freely admit that she had stumbled a bit in that respect lately—the incident with Jared around Booth's birthday immediately came to mind—and that also made her ache.
Brennan thought about what Angela had said earlier, about loving Booth. Just as she had before, Brennan immediately pushed that notion away. If she thought about it too much, it would open a door that Brennan had been keeping tightly closed for a reason.
Shaking her head slightly, Brennan dropped her bags on the couch and found Booth in the kitchen. He was standing in front of his open fridge, staring into its contents. It appeared that Booth had gone food shopping before getting ready for the banquet almost two days before. The fridge was stock full of meat, cheeses, beer, and even some vegetables. Brennan briefly wondered if she was rubbing off on him, but Booth was very physically fit. Despite his somewhat unhealthy ordering habits while they were at the diner, Booth worked out regularly and kept a healthy diet outside of their takeout meals. He would have had to, in order to keep his body in peak physical condition.
"Are you hungry?" Brennan asked, more for something to say than anything else. She wasn't used to seeing Booth so aimless, so unsure. If he was hungry, she could make something for him, and that would finally give her something useful to do.
Booth shrugged his shoulders, his hand tightening on the top of the door to the fridge. He stared into the fridge for another long moment before he shook his head slightly and swung the door shut. He scrubbed his hands over his face before he turned to face Brennan, giving her a smile that didn't reach his eyes at all.
"You know, Bones, you don't have to stay." Booth tried to force casualness into his voice and failed miserably. Was this how she had felt two years ago? There was a desire to just be left alone, where he could just be without anyone asking questions, but there was also a deep-seated fear about actually being alone. Booth was familiar with this feeling, having dealt with it several times during his days in the Army. It never got any easier.
Out of everything that had happened to them in the last three and a half years of their partnership, Brennan was sure that she had never seen him so immediately after such a traumatic event. By the time she had seen him again—like after he had gotten shot for her—Booth had already gotten his feelings under control and was fairly closed off about it. This was new territory for both of them, and it was clear that neither Brennan nor Booth knew what to do next.
She shook her head. There was absolutely no way that she was going to let Booth bustle her out of his apartment and leave him to deal with this on his own. Wasn't it time that he let someone be there for him, just as he was always there for everyone else? It amazed Brennan that someone who was so insistent on offering everyone else help refused to accept any himself.
"I'm staying," she told him, her voice firm. The tone of her voice dared him to argue with her, and of course he did.
"Really, Bones, I'll be fine—"
"Are you forgetting that I've been through this before?" Brennan blurted before she could stop herself. Booth seemed equally as surprised, staring at her with widened eyes. Brennan forged ahead, because there was no point in trying to backtrack. "I know, Booth, okay? I know what it was like. Let me stay."
Booth was watching her again, his eyes dark, and Brennan could swear that he could see to the very heart of her. He had a way of looking at her that made her so very aware of the connection between them. It was like she could feel a physical caress of his gaze, and it always made her feel a little unbalanced… but in a way that Brennan rather enjoyed.
She went in for the kill, the one thing that would get Booth to give in to her. Turning her wide, blue-eyed gazed on Booth, Brennan pleaded, "Let do this for you. Let me be here for you. Please."
It was the "please" that did it, paired with the openly imploring look in her eyes. Some of the tension left Booth's shoulders, and he closed his eyes briefly before he nodded his head. "I'm going to take a shower," he mumbled before he brushed past her and headed back towards his bathroom.
Neither of them mentioned the fact that he had already taken one shower, at the hospital. But that one had been quick and more about clean enough to get changed into his suit than anything else. He felt the need to really get clean, to remove any trace that being stuck on that ship had left.
As he left Brennan in his kitchen, his heart squeezed in his chest at the memory of what she just said to him. She had been through this before, two years ago. And now Booth knew exactly what she had experienced, and it killed him to know that she had gone through that pain and felt that afraid.
It made Booth wonder if he had done enough for her after that night, had given her what she needed. He didn't like the thought of Brennan being in that much pain, and he wondered if she had felt like he did right now: like he was barely hanging on.
Shutting his bathroom door firmly behind him, Booth stripped his suit off and in a rather uncharacteristic move, left it piled on the floor. He did, however, carefully set his new belt buckle on the kitchen sink. He stared at the shower head and then the tub, trying to decide if he wanted to take the time to soak in the tub. It really wasn't a very tough decision to make, honestly.
After plugging the tub and turning on the faucet to fill it with the hottest water his water heater could mange, Booth stared at the cocky belt buckle for a long moment. He was touched that Brennan went through the trouble to find a new one for him, especially since he had only been in the hospital for a few hours. She must have gone home, showered and changed, and then immediately gone out to find him a new belt buckle.
Once the tub was full, Booth stepped in, hissing as the steaming water hit his aching feet. He slowly lowered the rest of his abused body down into the tub, giving himself a few moments to adjust to the heat of the water. As his muscles slowly began to loosen, Booth relaxed against the back of the tub and closed his eyes.
He immediately regretted it when he was bombarded by the image of that dark, dilapidated ship, and the sight of Teddy Parker, bloody and injured, slumped against the wall. Booth's eyes snapped open again, and he sighed heavily before he turned his head and directed his gaze towards the cocky belt buckle. It seemed safer to look at that than anything else. Plus, that buckle now reminded him of his Bones, and what she had done for him.
Booth lounged in the tub with his eyes half open, letting his mind drift. The hot water worked its magic, as it always did, since the very first time his physical therapist had suggested it after he had been captured while he was in the Rangers. The nightmares would probably still come, and he would always remember the way it felt to wake up inside that stupid, cramped, yellow submarine. At least this way, physically, he would hurt a little less.
He lingered until the water became too cool to bear, almost an hour. Just as he was putting his hands on either side of the tub, preparing to push up and out, he heard a soft knock on the bathroom door.
"Booth? I made some lunch, if you want to eat," Brennan said through the door.
It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, but Booth hadn't eaten anything since lunch almost two days before. It was only as he thought about it that Booth became aware of the clawing emptiness in his stomach. He did need to get something in his stomach at the very least, even if he didn't particularly feel like eating at the moment.
"I'll be right out," Booth called back to her.
He heard Brennan's quiet footfalls as she walked away from the bathroom and back into the kitchen. Booth climbed out of the tub and grabbed his towel, drying himself off with quick, efficient movements. He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed into his bedroom, where he pulled a worn pair of sweatpants and an old Army t-shirt out of one of the drawers.
Opening the top drawer, Booth stared at the array of colorful socks he had collected. He wasn't exactly in the mood to wear any of his crazy patterned socks, but he remembered the reaction Brennan had when he had worn black socks during his therapy sessions with Gordon-Gordon. He didn't want to worry her anymore than she clearly already was, and he also just didn't feel like answering any of those questions.
So Booth pulled a subdued, two-tone blue pair and tugged them onto his feet. He jammed a pair of slippers on and shuffled out into the kitchen, where a delicious aroma hit his nostrils. He sniffed at the air, having become quite familiar with this smell over the past couple of years. A small smile appeared on his lips as he spotted Brennan at the oven, where she was waiting for the last few seconds on the timer to tick down.
Wanting to be absolutely sure of what he smelled cooking in his oven, Booth asked, "Bones, did you make macaroni and cheese?"
"It's not the exact recipe I usually make," Brennan was quick to point out. The timer dinged, and Brennan slid on his slightly ridiculous Flyers-printed oven mitts and pulled a baking dish out of the oven. Curls of steam drifted up from the cheesy top, and Booth's stomach growled.
"You only had three kinds of cheese," Brennan continued. "And you didn't have any pancetta, so I used bacon instead. But it should still be okay."
"It smells amazing, Bones," Booth assured her as he headed further into the kitchen. In addition to the macaroni and cheese, Brennan had also roasted some of the broccoli Booth had. She had taken a beer out of the fridge for him, and had poured a glass of wine for herself. Booth honestly wasn't aware of the fact that he had picked up another bottle of Brennan's favorite red wine, but he was glad that he had.
Thinking back, Booth wasn't really sure when he started buying Brennan's favorite wine, or that weird Moroccan beer that she liked to drink. It must have been after the first few times they had stayed up late after finishing paperwork form one of their cases. They had been at her apartment that time, and he had been nursing one of those Moroccan beers when she had pulled a bottle of pinot noir from the fridge, and he had taken note of the label. When they had done paperwork at Booth's apartment during their following case, he had handed Brennan a bottle of that same wine and a glass. The smile she had given him had stayed with him for days after that.
"I just figured that you'd have leftovers for a few days," Brennan told him as she scooped a large serving of the cheesy pasta on to Booth's plate.
"Can I do anything to help?" Booth offered. Brennan had taken over his kitchen completely, just as she did any time she ended up cooking for him.
Brennan scooped some broccoli onto Booth's plate and sprinkled some extra parmesan cheese on top of the macaroni. "You can go sit down," she directed with a smile. Taking his beer, Booth took a seat at the kitchen island while Brennan grabbed a fork and set the utensil and the plate in front of Booth. She fixed a plate for herself and joined him at the island, turning her body so that her knee brushed against his.
Suddenly starving, Booth scooped up a large forkful of pasta and jammed it into his mouth. True, it was different from the macaroni and cheese Brennan normally made, with the seven different kinds of fancy cheeses, but it was just as delicious. The comfort food had been exactly what Booth had needed, and he groaned in satisfaction.
"Damn, Bones, this is great," Booth said around another forkful of food.
"It is?" Brennan looked a little self-conscious as she twirled her fork through the melting, stringy cheese. "Because you only had sharp cheddar and mozzarella and pepper jack, and the recipe doesn't usually have pepper jack but I decided to use it anyway—"
"Bones." Booth slid a hand over her knee, giving it a pat. "It's good. Trust me."
Brennan smiled at him, and Booth tucked back into his meal. It was maybe ten minutes later when he finished clearing his plate, and he picked up his beer and drained the rest of it quickly. He got up to get another one, wondering if he should change to something a little stronger. It was four o'clock in the afternoon and entirely too early to start drinking heavily, but suddenly Booth wanted a little buzz.
Brennan watched him carefully, choosing not to say anything. She ate another bite of her pasta while Booth popped the top on his second beer, brought it to his lips, and downed half of it quickly. He joined her back at the island then. Booth perched on the edge of the stool, toying with the peeling corner of the label on the bottle.
"So what's the plan for this weekend?" Booth asked. "Are we going to play board games like last time, or did you have something else in mind?" There was a note of bitterness that he couldn't quite keep out of his voice, and Brennan's eyes widened slightly.
"Booth," Brennan began, but seemed at a loss for what to say.
Watching his partner blink at him, Booth scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I'm just…" He trailed off, not exactly sure how to put into words what he was feeling.
Brennan was watching him with those piercing blue eyes, and she reached out, her fingers brushed against his forearm. "I know," she murmured.
That crushing feeling hit Booth all over again, knowing that Brennan had experienced torture at the hands of the Grave Digger. Hell, he even felt sick remembering that Hodgins had been there too, injured and worried that he might never see the love of his life again. Booth could relate to that, because for twenty-one hours, he had feared that he would never see…
Booth pushed those thoughts away, unwilling to finish them even the privacy of his own mind. He inhaled deeply and took another swig from the beer bottle, once again wishing that it was something stronger. He wasn't going to let himself go there until at least eight o'clock, though, and he was probably only going to limit himself to a glass or two. Brennan already had to deal with him and the aftermath of his emotions about his abduction via the Grave Digger. The last thing she needed was to have him drunk off his ass on top of it.
"Isn't there a Flyers game on tonight?" Brennan finally asked.
There was, and Booth had no idea how Brennan would be aware of it. "Yeah, there is. How did you know?"
"I checked the television listings earlier," Brennan admitted. "The game is going to start in an hour, but I believe there's also something called a pre-game show?"
A slow smile began to spread over Booth's face. He had only just managed to convince Brennan to watch him play in a hockey game earlier that year, and now she was going to watch a Flyers game and the pre-game with him?
Taking his beer and her glass of wine, he headed into the living room. Brennan followed him, reaching for the remote to pull up the pregame. Booth watched in amusement as she flipped through several different versions of ESPN before she found the broadcast from Philadelphia.
"Why are there so many sports channels?" Brennan grumbled.
"For the same reason there are so many science and discovery channels," Booth quipped. "Lots of different science, lots of different sports. People like to watch different things, Bones."
With nothing to say against Booth's surprisingly logical argument, Brennan settled back into the corner of the couch. The pregame did manage to hold her attention, since a lot of strategies and rules of the game were being discussed. Always looking for an opportunity to learn, no matter what the subject was about, Brennan listened intently. Booth split his time between watching the pregame and his partner, and was equally fascinated by both.
She managed to make it through the first period of the game, mostly because she had gone back into the kitchen for her plate and had finished her macaroni and cheese. After she set her plate aside, she had tugged Booth's plaid blanket off of the back of the couch, snuggled up underneath it, and had curled back into the corner of the couch. Brennan drifted off not long after that, and Booth stayed on the couch, still switching between watching Brennan and the game.
The Flyers won, barely. Brennan was still fast asleep on the couch, and Booth could tell that it was the sleep of someone who was so completely exhausted, weary right down to the bone. Booth wasn't surprised that she had fallen asleep like that. She had been up so long, and had worked so hard to save him. He was touched by everything she had done, by how amazing she was and how hard she had worked. Brennan had done the same thing when she and Hodgins had been captured by the Grave Digger.
He thought back to that weekend they had spent together, and how they had watched the movies he had picked out and played the games he had brought over. Yet here Brennan was, watching the things that he liked, making his favorite food for him, and giving him the space that he needed. For a woman who thought she wasn't good with people, she sure had no problem sensing what he needed.
With a sigh, Booth stood up and reached for her plate to put it away. As he stood, the blanket covering Brennan shifted and slipped off of her shoulder. Stopping, Booth picked up the corner of the blanket to cover Brennan back up again. The movement caused her to wake up, and she jerked upright, almost colliding with Booth's hand.
"Hey, whoa, it's okay," Booth soothed. He tucked the blanket over her shoulder and rubbed soothingly for a moment. "Go back to sleep."
Brennan shook her head and stood, folding the blanket with sharp, precise movements. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and managed a small smile. "No, I'm alright. I'm sorry I fell asleep."
Booth watched her as her hands—normally so sure and in control—nervously refolded the blanket. "No, I'm sorry."
"For waking me?" She shook her head. The last thing Booth needed at the moment was to be left alone without anything to distract him. She certainly wasn't going to sleep while he needed her. "Don't be."
"No. Well, yes, but that wasn't what I was talking about." Booth realized that he was still holding Brennan's empty plate, and he turned and walked into the kitchen. Brennan followed him, waiting for him to explain what that cryptic comment meant.
"Booth?" Brennan prompted when several moments passed and he didn't say anything.
Setting the dish in the sink, Booth braced his hands on the counter. "That weekend… you know, after we found you…" He didn't have to elaborate, because Brennan knew exactly what he was talking about. "All we did were the things that I wanted to do. We watched my movies, played my games and I… I wonder if what's you really needed."
Brennan watched Booth for a long moment, and the shocked the hell out of him by bursting into laughter. He blinked at her, eyes wide with surprise, not saying anything as she got her apparent amusement out of her system. When her laughter eventually died down, she wiped at her eyes and shook her head.
"Booth," she began in that practical voice that she got whenever she was about to lecture him. "Do you really think that I wouldn't have done those things if I didn't want to?" Well, that was certainly true. No one ever made Brennan do anything that she didn't want to do. "I rather enjoyed those movies. And I…" She gave him a look that was almost shy. "I really liked that you were the one to show them to me. I've never seen Toy Story before, if you'll recall."
Despite the fact that it was a children's movie, Booth did remember Brennan's surprised laughter at several moments during the film. And he also remembered how she soundly whipped his ass at Monopoly. She really did have fun doing those things, and he knew just how much her admission meant.
He felt her step up behind him, and her hand—so delicate but somehow still so strong—slide over his back. "You gave me exactly what I needed that weekend," she murmured.
Closing his eyes, Booth leaned back into Brennan's touch for a moment. He didn't realize how much he needed to hear those words until she actually said them. They never talked about those moments between them. Not the weekend they spent together after Brennan's capture by the Gravedigger, nor the nights they had been together after he had been shot and faked his death. They didn't talk about how, after they had found out what really happened to her mother, he had stopped by her apartment with food every night for two weeks straight. Or how, once they had finally buried Ruth Keenan's remains under the name Christine, how Booth had held Brennan while she sobbed. And even though it had happened recently, they didn't bring up the entire night Brennan stayed with Booth when he had his concussion, ice skating with him, or the three days she spent checking up on him after that.
They were always there like this for one another, quietly supportive, in each other's corner. To hear Brennan say it now made Booth realize how much he needed to acknowledge the things she did for him, too.
He turned, facing her. "Thank you, Bones."
Her smile was a little confused, and she slid her hand from her back to his forearm. "For what?"
The fact that she didn't realize how much she took care of him spoke volumes, and Booth was once again struck by just how caring and compassionate Temperance Brennan was. "For… just, for everything."
Their eyes connected, warm brown and icy blue. They were much better at communicating with looks than they were with words oftentimes, and now an understanding passed between them. Brennan's fingers tightened on his arm, and Booth lifted one hand to cover hers with his.
They ordered pizza for dinner and watched a movie about pirates, which led to several lectures given by Brennan on the accuracy of the movie and the history of pirates. Booth patiently sat through them all (and fondly remember their case involving pirates, early on in their partnership), taking comfort from the sound of her voice more than anything else. While he listened to her, he was able to pretend that, just for a little bit, everything was normal.
When they had finished eating and the movie was over, Booth turned on a documentary that he knew Brennan had been meaning to watch, and grabbed a Sports Illustrated off of the coffee table. He flipped through the issue and read some articles twice. It was nearly eleven o'clock when he set the magazine aside and yawned, rubbing his hands over his face.
Brennan turned down the volume on the TV. The first documentary had finished long ago and a second one that she hadn't been paying very much attention to was on. She had spent more time with her eyes on Booth, watching as more and more tension caused the line of his shoulders to go stiff, as the furrow in his brow became deeper.
"Tired?" Brennan asked. She tried so hard to be nonchalant, but Booth saw right through her. She was trying to ask how he was without really asking, but all he needed to do was look into her eyes. The concern shining out from the blue orbs was clear as day; Brennan really did wear her heart on her sleeve.
Booth cut himself off mid-yawn and managed a small, tight smile for Brennan. "Not really," he said with more of that forced casualness. If he looked into those eyes any longer, there was a very real chance he was going to give in and lose it. Booth turned his attention back towards the television. "What's this one about? Anything good?"
Brennan pulled up the TV guide, since she honestly wasn't sure herself what was on. "Secrets of the Titanic," Brennan answered.
"Great." Booth plucked the remote from Brennan's hand and turned up the volume. "I've always wanted to know more about the Titanic."
Brennan arched an eyebrow at Booth, obviously not buying the lie for a second. Though she knew that Booth did love history, she never knew of him to display much interest in the Titanic. Brennan very much doubted that after being trapped on a ship for the better part of twenty-four hours, Booth really wanted to watch a whole documentary about another large ship that sank in such a horrific way.
Still, Booth tucked his hands behind his head and pretended to watch with intense focus. Brennan shrugged her shoulders and settled back, prepared to watch the rest with him.
It was finally over at one in the morning, and both Booth and Brennan were obviously struggling with keeping their eyes open. Booth rubbed his eyes and jumped up from the couch, heading over to his bookshelf. He pulled his copy of Bred in the Bone from the shelf, went back to the couch, and opened it.
"Booth," Brennan began in a carefully neutral voice.
Booth pretended not to hear her and very pointedly flipped a page. Brennan sighed and went to get her laptop. She could get some work down on the outline of her next novel if she was going to stay up, after all. This went on for another half an hour before Booth finally looked up from the book and turned towards Brennan.
"You should get some sleep, Bones," he encouraged. "You must be tired."
"You've got to be tired as well, Booth," Brennan pointed out immediately. "When's the last time you slept?"
"I'm not tired," Booth immediately denied. There was no way that he was about to admit that if he didn't sleep, then he didn't need to face the inevitable nightmares. This was always the time of year he had them about Teddy Parker anyway. After his experience on that ship, he knew that this time around, they would be one hundred times worse.
Brennan leveled him with that straight forward, uncompromising look—the one that Booth could never hide from. "It has to have been almost two days, Booth. You've been through a very trying ordeal. You need to get some rest."
Shaking his head, Booth repeated, "I'm not tired." His voice was less sure this time, and his eyes drifted shut.
"Well, I'm not sleeping until you sleep," Brennan calmly stated. "So I'll wait with you until you're ready."
"Bones, no," Booth protested immediately. "You've been up for as long as I have. You need to get some sleep."
She scooted closer to him on the couch, until their thighs were pressed together. Booth glanced down at the point of contact and looked back up at Brennan, his eyes dark. Brennan wondered if she was taking some sort of liberty here, but she found herself needing the contact, needing the proof that Booth was alive and well next to her.
"I already had that nap earlier," Brennan reminded him. "I can stay awake for quite a while. My body is rather adept at staying awake and alert for long periods of time without rest. I have done it many times before."
"So have I." Sure, Brennan was the one who did it more often, but Booth had had his fair share of staying up for days at a time, keeping his eyes on a target during his time as a sniper in the Rangers. Not to mention the nights he had stayed up gambling. He could function on very little sleep, if he wanted to.
Brennan gave him that stubborn look and crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't going to budge on this, no matter what Booth said. If he wasn't going to sleep, neither was she.
"Bones, come on." Booth gave it one last feeble attempt. If she went to sleep first, then he could make sure that she was really out before he finally succumbed to his own exhaustion. Then if he had nightmares, maybe he wouldn't accidentally wake Brennan up and have to make her deal with any more than she already had to from him.
"No, Booth, you come on. If you're going to stay awake, then so will I."
He wasn't going to win this one, and frankly, Booth was too tired to put up much more of a fight. They were coming up on two in the morning. While it was true that neither of them needed to be at work the next day—after such an ordeal, they were generally given a week's worth of downtime—it still wasn't good for either of them to be up this late.
"Fine," Booth relented with a sigh. "If I go to sleep, will you?"
"Yes." Brennan shot him a triumphant smile and stood, already searching for an extra pillow and some blankets. "I'll sleep on the couch."
"Bones—"
"Booth, absolutely not. I'm perfectly fine with sleeping on the couch. And after what you've been through, your body could not possibly handle a night on this couch."
She made a fair point. Booth stood and winced as his back popped. He watched for a moment as Brennan tossed a pillow and two blankets onto the couch, rearranging the cushions to her liking so she had space to sleep. She seemed perfectly at ease in his apartment as she got ready for bed, as she had earlier in his kitchen. With another sigh, Booth dragged his hand through his hair.
"Well, let me know if you need anything, Bones," he finally said before he turned on his heel.
"Booth?"
Booth stopped and turned around. "Yeah, Bones?"
Those blue eyes were so full of compassion and sympathy, and Booth wasn't sure how long he could stand there under her careful scrutiny. "If you need anything, will you let me know?"
Like he could say no to her when she looked at him like that. "Sure, Bones."
The exhaustion of the past two days got the better of her, and Brennan drifted off to sleep. Despite his best efforts, the same thing happened to Booth. He dreamed of Teddy slumped over against a tree in that godforsaken jungle, bleeding profusely from wounds that he would never recover from. Teddy was calling his name, pleading for help, and even though Booth was right there, no matter what he did, he couldn't save Teddy's life. The worst part of it all was that it wasn't even a true nightmare—he was just reliving the horrible events that had already happened.
Even though Booth knew that Teddy's death wasn't his fault, his time on that ship only made him relive losing one of his closest friends. He didn't exactly relish those memories, or being reminded of the amount of loss he had faced in his life.
Booth woke from that nightmare by snapping his eyes open, with his body covered in a sheen of sweat. He sat up, pushing his hair back, blinking in the darkness of his bedroom. Hell, he hated this time of year, and now he had an extra reason to despise it. He had no idea how he was going to get through this next year.
For the next twenty minutes, Booth tossed and turned in bed, wanting to fall asleep but not wanting to have to deal with those memories again. The bed creaked underneath him and the sheets rustled, and he wondered if he could get away with sneaking past Brennan so he could go out for a run. Maybe running his body into the ground would finally let him get some dreamless sleep.
Needing to do something, Booth rolled out of bed, wincing when his bare feet came in contact with the cool, hardwood floors. Naturally, his slippers were all the way on the other side of the room, so he stood to his full height and began to shuffle his way over to them.
And instantly regretted it. The tightness and soreness in his body was very nearly unbearable, and he bit back a blistering curse. It seemed that a run was out of the question, given how much his body simply just hurt.
It wasn't surprising, given the abuse his body had been put through over the past couple of days. Being crammed into that stupid submarine, fighting not to drown, and setting off an explosion inside a metal ship had not done good things for him. The adrenaline and the drive to stay awake had long since worn off, leaving him at the mercy of the soreness in his limbs.
There was really only one thing to do to make himself feel better when he was like this, and his feet were already moving towards the bathroom before he realized what he was doing. With a sigh, he cranked the faucet on the tub to its hottest setting before he plugged the tub.
It was past three o'clock in the morning, but sleep was no longer on Booth's mind. The only thing he cared about was relieving the aching tension in his muscles. The tub wasn't even finished filling before Booth stripped down and climbed into it. He settled back against the short side, holding on to the edges of the tub as the steaming water filled in around him.
When Booth was submerged up to the top of his chest, he reached over and turned the tub off. Leaning back, he closed his eyes again and took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. The heat from the water seeped into his aching body, and, for a moment, he could pretend that it was actually healing him. The second bath seemed to be doing more for him than the first one had.
Booth had been sitting in the water for maybe two minutes when there was a soft knock on the door. Booth's eyes slowly drifted open as the bathroom door cracked open, and Brennan stuck only her nose through.
"Booth?" she whispered, as if she were afraid that she was disrupting him. "Can I come in?"
For some reason, that made Booth feel a hundred times better. He laughed at that, a real one that echoed through the bathroom. Unable to help herself, Brennan pushed the door open further, until Booth could see her whole face. She had that look of exasperation and confusion on her face, along with a touch of concern that he figured wouldn't go away for quite a while.
"I fail to see what's so humorous about my question," she stated as her arms crossed over her chest. "In the past, you weren't particularly pleased when I barged into your bathroom without an invitation. I thought it would be appropriate to ask now."
It was on the tip of Booth's tongue to ask how many more times she planned on barging into his bathroom, but he managed to choke back the quip just in time. Instead, he focused on Brennan's oh-so expressive eyes. That little furrow was between them, indicating her confusion, but the worry for him was clearly shining through. It was obvious that the only reason Brennan had asked for permission to enter instead of just barging in was because she was worried about pushing him.
Booth was amazed that with just one of her practical, no-nonsense comments, Temperance Brennan managed to make more of his tension disappear than even the bath had. Just looking at her made the tightness in his chest lessen.
"It's just that you've never seemed too keen on asking before," Booth reminded her. The smile still on his face let her know that he was teasing more than anything else. "But yeah, Bones, you can come in."
She seemed a little surprised at his acquiesce, and she edged into the bathroom. Brennan's eyes swept over him briefly, in that compassionate, slightly clinical way she had whenever he got injured. They were both incredibly aware of the fact that Booth was very obviously naked, and that he was completely exposed through the transparent water. They were both too tired to care very much or comment on it, though. After what they had both been through that day, it just didn't seem very appropriate to mention it.
Brennan kept her eyes respectfully reverted from the tub, though, and instead sat on the floor, leaning against the wall opposite from the tub. She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hugging herself.
"Sorry if I woke you up," Booth finally said.
Brennan let out an annoyed huff of breath, making Booth arch an eyebrow at her. Seeing the questioning look on his face, she said, "Booth, would you please stop apologizing? There's not… there's nothing that you need to be sorry for."
Damn it, he couldn't resist her when she looked at him like that, all big blue eyes with her heart on her sleeve. So he pressed his lips together and nodded his head. He dragged his fingers through the water, watching the steam that still swirled up.
"I wasn't sleeping very well," Brennan admitted quietly.
"Why not?"
"I was… well, I was wondering if you were sleeping well." Brennan gestured to Booth's rumpled pajamas piled on the floor and where he was in the bathtub. "I suppose this is my answer."
Shrugging his shoulders sheepishly, Booth explained, "When I woke up, everything was sore, so… this seemed like the best option."
"It's what you do when your feet are causing you pain, correct?"
Booth wasn't at all surprised that Brennan knew one of the ways he dealt with the residual pain from the injuries in his feet. She was the bone expert, after all. He pressed his toes into the bottom of the porcelain tub, pleased to feel his muscles loosen even further. He nodded his head, indicating that Brennan was correct.
Twisting her hands in her lap, Brennan paused for a moment before she said, "I have some salts and essential oils that might help. There are different uses for each that can help with relaxation and decrease muscle inflammation."
"Sure, Bones." The aches and pains in Booth's body from his various injuries was something he battled daily, and some days were worse than others. "I'll try anything if you think it'll help."
Pleased that Booth was so willing to accept her help, Brennan sent him a bright smile. They sat in comfortable silence for a few long moments, in the humidity of the steamy bathroom. It wasn't awkward, it wasn't pain-filled… it was easy, and as there often was, there was complete understanding between Booth and Brennan.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Brennan asked after a long moment, her voice back to a whisper.
There was another long beat of silence, and Brennan thought that Booth was just going to ignore her. She wouldn't be surprised if he did—she had pretty much done the same thing when he asked her that question, two years ago. Still, it was important for Brennan to ask anyway.
And then Booth said, "Did I ever tell you where Parker's name came from?"
After visiting the cemetery that day, Brennan had put two and two together. Still, the fact that Booth was willingly offering up this information was a big step for him, and Brennan wanted to hear his side of the story.
So she sat back with wide, expectant eyes, waiting to soak in this new piece of Booth's history. A small smile touched his lips. It was easy to see that even the mere thought of Parker was enough to relax him. His eyes lost just the slightest bit of that stark haunted look he'd had since they rescued him from that ship.
"Towards the end of Rebecca's pregnancy with Parker it was… well, it was a rough time for me," Booth began. His gaze was directed up at the ceiling now, like he was afraid to look into Brennan's eyes during this part of the story. "The last mission I had been on… it went to hell in a hand basket."
Brennan didn't like the furrow in his brow or the heavy, quiet sadness of Booth's voice. So she very deliberately said the one thing that she knew would bring a smile to Booth's face: "I don't know what that means."
Booth cracked a smile, just as she hoped he would. "It was bad," Booth clarified. "We were in this god-awful jungle, had been staked out in the same spot for over thirty-six hours. We were hungry, tired, and more than a little on edge. The target was a bad guy, this horrible guy in charge of a human trafficking ring and this mission was our one chance to get him. The pressure was… a lot."
Booth didn't often talk about his days as a sniper, but whenever he did, Brennan got that heart-crushing feeling in her chest. Those days were so full of pain for him, full of so many secrets and things he would never be able to share. She bit her lip, watching him with wide eyes as Booth got lost in his own memories.
"My spotter was Teddy. Teddy Parker. He was the best damned spotter I ever had. The kid was always somehow in a good mood, even when we were sweating our asses off on some ledge in the jungle, staying as still as we possibly could. You could be the best shot in the world, but it would mean nothing without a good spotter. That's what Teddy was to me. He saved my life, more times than he'll ever know."
Brennan had wondered why Booth was so hell-bent on working by himself in the early days. Now, it all made so much more sense. He had had a partner once, one that he had trusted and who had always had his back. And he lost him.
Booth let out a rueful, humorless laugh and dragged a hand over his face. "You know, when I wrote the mission report, I had every detail perfectly memorized. I owed it to Teddy to explain exactly what happened. Once I handed it in though, that crystal-clear sharpness of what happened went away. I could only remember it in bits and pieces."
Booth trailed off and dropped his hands into the water. He was quiet for a long time, and Brennan knew not to push him. He would talk when he was ready. Almost five full minutes passed before Booth let out a shuddering breath and started to speak again.
"I got my chance. Got the shot off, hit the target. Teddy didn't stay down. He sat up a little too high, got caught in the crosshairs of an enemy sniper. Their commander had just been killed, they knew that someone had been waiting for that perfect moment. They were looking in all directions and Teddy… he got caught. It was a stupid mistake on both of our parts and I've never… it took me a long time to let go of what happened. He was hit, but he was still alive, and I knew that we might have a chance if I got us back to the rendezvous point in time. So I patched Teddy up as best as I could, tossed him over my shoulder, and hauled ass out of there."
"How far did you carry him?" Brennan whispered.
"Five miles." Booth stared into the cooling water. "He died, somewhere around mile two. But I couldn't… I couldn't leave him. The chopper was late getting to us anyway and…" He trailed off again, letting the words hang unspoken in the air. There were a lot of things in his life that Booth would never forget. Sitting next to his dead friend, covered in blood, while the helicopter lights threw everything in stark, horrific relief was just one of them.
"I'm sorry," Brennan said. She wished that there was something more that she could say, something to make him feel better, but nothing seemed like enough.
Nodding his head, Booth shifted in the now chilled water. Sensing that he wanted to get out of the tub, Brennan pulled his towel from the towel rack and handed it to him. She stood, turning around to face the wall as she waited for Booth to get out of the tub. Frankly, after that story, she didn't want to be alone, and she didn't think that Booth would mind the company either.
So he didn't tell her to leave and she heard the splash of the water as he stood. For a moment, Brennan imagined the water sluicing off of Booth's body, but she hastily pushed those thoughts away. Booth needed someone to be there for him right now. He certainly didn't need her lusting after him.
A few long moments passed, and then Booth touched her shoulder. Brennan turned and found herself face-to-face with Booth's bare, damp chest, and she swallowed thickly. Brennan sucked in a quick, deep breath and forced her eyes up to meet Booth's. There was the slightest spark of knowing amusement in his eyes, and he reached around her to open the bathroom door.
Brennan lingered in the doorway of Booth's bedroom as he pulled on a pair of boxers under the towel that was wrapped around his waist. He pulled on a t-shirt, but not before Brennan caught a glimpse of the bruises on his back and sides.
"Well, I…" Brennan cleared her throat. "I guess I should leave you alone and get back to bed."
"Or you could stay."
Booth and Brennan stared at each other in surprise. Booth couldn't believe that he had actually let those words escape, while Brennan was shocked that Booth had basically admitted he didn't want to be alone. Brennan pressed a palm to the dark comforter covering Booth's bed, that little furrow developing between her brows that she got when she was deep in thought. Booth watched her, wondering if he should explain himself and then deciding that he didn't really need to.
After a long beat of silence, Brennan climbed fully up on to Booth's bed. She hadn't wanted to be by herself after her own experience with the Grave Digger, and Booth hadn't really given her the option. She was thankful for the fact that he had been beside her in the dark, helping to keep the nightmares at bay. Brennan wanted to do the same for him.
It was amazing to her that Booth didn't seem to understand just how much his presence that weekend had made a difference for her. Often, when facing her most difficult experiences, Brennan had been left to deal with them on her own. Not that time. After being buried alive, Booth hadn't left her side, not even for a second.
Brennan wasn't going to leave him. Not when he needed her.
Booth's shoulders slumped in relief, and he immediately climbed on to the bed next to her. Brennan watched him get settled under the covers—she wasn't surprised that he was cold still, despite the fact that the heat had been cranked in his apartment—before she slid back and relaxed against the pillows. After hearing Booth's story, she couldn't help but feel completely and totally exhausted.
"You're amazing, Bones," Booth murmured once they were both settled into the bed.
It wasn't the time for joking, so Brennan held back from saying, "I know." Instead, she blinked at him with wide eyes, not expecting the heavy emotion behind his words. She couldn't seem to find the words to respond to Booth, and a small smile ticked up the corner of his mouth.
"You saved yourself, when this happened to you. You and Hodgins. You had nothing, but you managed to survive." His eyes dark, Booth dragged his hand over his face and sighed deeply. "I read the report, you know. The air from the spare tire. The way you guys made a carbon dioxide scrubber out of the items you had with you. How you rigged the air bag. You… you saved yourself. And I just… I had to… I feel like I could have done more."
"Oh, Booth." Brennan shook her head, and she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around him and pull him close. "You did so much. I read your report too, you know." She still couldn't believe that Booth had written it while he had been in the hospital, hooked up to an IV so that he could be rehydrated. Booth had insisted that he wanted to just get it done and over with so he didn't have to think about it for much longer. It was like when he had written the report after the mission with Teddy; he wanted to get all of the horrible details down while he could still remember them clearly, and then he wanted to push it all to the back of his mind.
"You did a lot, and that was while you were trapped on a decommissioned ship by yourself. What you did with those explosives…" Brennan supposed that she should have guessed that Booth would be able to handle explosives. He must have had the training while he had been in the Rangers, but she had never given much thought to it before. Knowing that Booth had tried to blow his way out of a ship that had been built to withstand such an attack made fear course through her body.
"It's not that you had to come get me." A ghost of a smile passed over Booth's lips, and he touched her hand. "You can rescue me any time you want, Bones."
A flush spread across Brennan's cheeks, and she flipped her hand over, tangling her fingers with his long, strong ones. She stared down at their linked fingers, noticing the contrast between his golden skin and her paler complexion.
"I just hate the fact that I had to wait to be rescued," Booth admitted in a quiet voice. He hated the fact that he had been weak, and he hated saying it out loud even more. Seeley Booth had stopped admitting to being weak when he was thirteen years old—right after his mother left, and he had taken a beating from his father to protect Jared for the first time. He had been rescued then, too. Three years later, by his grandfather.
Shaking her head again, Brennan shifted closer to Booth and tightened her fingers around his. "You think I saved myself? While objectively, that is true, I won't…" She closed her eyes briefly, feeling tears suddenly burn in them. Throughout this entire ordeal, she had tried her hardest not to think about her own trauma, because Booth didn't need to deal with that. And yet here she was about to lose it.
Brennan sucked in a deep breath and opened her eyes again. "Booth, crawling through the dirt, trying to reach the surface… it was one of the worst moments of my life. We had escaped the car, but there was a very real chance that we wouldn't be able to break the surface. I could have sent Hodgins and myself to death, where we would suffocate on dirt and then we'd just have to wait to be found. When I was digging through that dirt, and I felt your hand touch mine…"
Booth was watching her with wide eyes and suddenly, Brennan was so very afraid of baring her soul to him like this. She knew that he would be there to catch her when she fell, and perhaps that what terrified her the most. He didn't expect her to change, but he challenged her, made her think, made her see that she didn't necessarily know everything. There were still things that she could learn, and he would be there to teach her.
She had a feeling that Booth would likely always be in her life, but she still couldn't bring herself to cross that line. He might have been the one to put it there, but she always played a part in being hesitant to cross it. So she stopped talking abruptly and took another deep breath as the tears welled over.
"I'll never forget it, Booth," Brennan finally finished. "Never."
He had her pinned with those dark, bottomless eyes, and there they were, suspended together in that moment. Booth reached up, and the calloused tips of his fingers brushed over Brennan's cheek, wiping her tears away. She leaned into his touch, her eyes drifting shut.
After a long moment, she cleared her throat. "You should get some sleep."
Booth's hand fell away from her cheek, and he nodded his head. "Okay."
They fell asleep still holding hands.
The next day passed quietly. They went on a run through the park near Booth's apartment, had pancakes for breakfast, and fielded calls from Angela and Cam. They went to see Parker's soccer game, which did a fantastic job of distracting Booth for a few hours. He smiled, he laughed, and it was like a weight had been lifted from him.
They took Parker out for ice cream, and the little boy remained blissfully unaware of the ordeal his father had been through. He bounced around Brennan and Booth, talking a mile a minute about the goal he made, about the science project he was working on, about how his blueberry ice cream was so much better than Brennan's mint chocolate chip, but could he try a bite anyway?
Parker had a birthday party to attend that evening, so Booth and Brennan dropped him off with Rebecca. They picked up some coffee at their spot on the mall, sat on a bench until the sun began to set and the air cooled around them.
They went back to Booth's apartment, and neither of them made any mention about Brennan leaving. She was going to stay another night, and there was no room for discussion on the subject. Brennan picked a movie at random from Booth's extensive collection—something animated, about a green ogre that made some rather inappropriate comments—and they settled onto the couch.
The movie did a good job at distracting Booth for another hour and a half. Brennan was slightly embarrassed to find that the movie was actually highly entertaining. While children could watch it, there was also enough humor hidden in it for adults. By the end of the movie, Brennan placed an order for takeout from their favorite Greek place by Booth's apartment.
Right before their food arrived, Brennan could see the heaviness come back to Booth. His shoulders slumped more, he was frowning, his hands kept tightening into fists. The darker it got, the less at ease he was. Brennan could certainly relate; the darkness made everything a little harder.
Booth didn't bring it up, and neither did Brennan. Booth turned on some college football game, they ate their food, they got ready for bed. Brennan lingered in the doorway under the pretense of saying goodnight to Booth, not sure if she was overstepping by wanting to just climb back into bed with him.
This was more than a little confusing, given that Brennan wanted to be there when he woke up with the inevitable nightmares, but she was nervous to be completely vulnerable with him. She pushed those thoughts aside, though. At the end of the day, this was about Booth and she could dissect (or completely ignore) her own feelings later.
Booth held his hand out, wordlessly inviting her to his bed. This was about comfort, about being there for him, Brennan knew. Still, she couldn't stop the low swoop in her belly as she crossed the bedroom in bare feet. He pulled back the blankets for her and she climbed in, turning on her side to face him.
They didn't say anything, but nothing really needed to be said. Brennan extended her hand across the expanse of bed between them, and Booth's eyes filled with relief as he took it in his own. Brennan kept her eyes trained on Booth until his exhaustion won out and his eyes drifted shut, his breathing evening out. Only then did Brennan allow herself to fall asleep as well.
Brennan woke when she felt the bed shifting beneath her.
It took her a few seconds to remember where she was, but she realized that she was in Booth's bedroom, in his bed. It was completely dark and Booth was tossing and turning in the bed next to her, with a sheen of sweat covering his skin. He was mumbling under his breath, his voice panicky in a way that broke Brennan's heart.
Brennan knew that she needed to wake him up, but she wasn't sure what to do in order to make that happen. After a moment of indecision, she reached over and touched his shoulder with the tips of her fingers. That one touch was enough to wake Booth up, and his eyes snapped open.
He was wild-eyed for one moment as he stared at her, unseeing. His hands immediately went to his side, like he was reaching for his sidearm. Of course it wasn't there, but the movement was as natural to Booth as breathing. Brennan held her hands up, waiting for him to realize where he was and that he was with her.
Then Booth blinked, and it all came rushing back to him. His hands covered his face and he let out a shuddering breath before he picked up his pillow and threw it across the room. He looked like he really wanted to throw something heavier, but Brennan caught the sheen in his eyes before he covered his face again.
"Booth…" Brennan whispered.
Booth made a noise in the back of his throat, one that was decidedly broken. "God damn it," he finally muttered, his voice tight. He wiped at his face, trying hard to hide the tears that appeared and wouldn't seem to go away, no matter how hard he tried.
"Booth," Brennan said again, her voice stronger. She reached out, brushing her fingers along the tense line of Booth's shoulders. He didn't pull away from her, but he didn't turn towards her either. His lack of reaction didn't deter Brennan in the slightest.
She was going to be there for him whether he liked it or not, and she was going to do everything in her power to comfort him. It was time that Booth leaned on someone, time for him to let someone else be strong. Brennan had no idea if she was doing the right thing or even if this is what Booth really needed, but he had always been there for her and supported her. Brennan cared about Booth. Even if she failed spectacularly, she had to at least try.
So Brennan took Booth's hand, squeezing carefully. With her other hand, she reached up and touched Booth's cheek, sliding her palm along the strong line of his jaw until she cupping his face fully. He looked up at her with tear tracks down his cheeks and more welling in his eyes.
Booth was one of those people that when you saw them cry, it completely crushed you. His tears were quiet, his eyes red and puffy. His jaw was clenched, and the look of pain in his eyes were so stark, Brennan couldn't help her quick inhale. It destroyed her a little to see that look on Booth's face.
Brennan tugged Booth towards her, and he resisted; it was half-hearted, like he was doing it because he was trying to be strong because he thought he had to be. He had this look on his face that Brennan recognized, because she had seen it on her own face in the mirror. There was quite a bit of despair and pain there, but it was mostly anger. The anger was easier than wondering why they had been chosen as victims to the Grave Digger's horrible torture, and it was certainly easier than going over every horrible detail, over and over again.
Brennan wasn't going to let Booth push her away now, though. They were alone in the dark, in the same bed and for once, those walls were down between them. Here, they could share in this, the pain that they now both knew.
So she tugged again and this time, Booth went willingly into her arms. Brennan leaned back against the pillows and Booth reclined with her, sliding down until his head was resting on her stomach. Brennan cupped one hand around his cheek, her fingers brushing away the few tears that had fallen, while the fingers of her other hand combed gently through his hair.
It had to have been at least half an hour when Booth finally spoke. His voice was raspy, a little shaky and definitely too quiet. "What happened with Jared?"
Brennan's jaw tightened, and she felt a pulse of anger shoot through her. It was gone as soon it materialized, and all she felt was sad for Booth all over again. The last thing he needed was to shoulder the guilt for Jared—not when the younger Booth brother finally stepped up and supported his older sibling.
"He did what he was supposed to do," Brennan finally said, without a single ounce of apology in her voice. "He did what he needed to do to help save your life."
Surprisingly, Brennan saw a small smile tick up Booth's lips. "Why do I have the feeling that you had something to do with that?"
Shaking her head, the tips of Brennan's fingers followed the strong line of his jaw. "Booth, he's your brother. He loves you. He'd do whatever he needed to in order to save your life, no matter the cost. We all would."
"But you told him to do it, didn't you?" Booth asked after another long, quiet moment. He tilted his head up in order to make eye contact with her, but made no move to sit up or pull away from her. "I mean, I know my brother loves me. I know that. But still, he…" With a sigh, Booth shook his head.
Brennan knew what Booth was trying to say. "He came through, in the end. No matter how… no matter the problems Jared has had, I'll always be thankful for what he did for you."
He smiled a little bigger at what Brennan said, staring into her eyes in that way that he had. "He lost his job," Booth finally said. "We talked when I was in the hospital and he didn't tell me everything, but I know he's in trouble—"
"Booth." Brennan's fingers pressed against his jaw again, stroking unconsciously. After everything he had been through, he was still trying to fix his younger brother's problems. The capacity Booth had to care for people constantly had Brennan in awe.
"There has to be someone I can talk to," Booth went on. There was a furrow in his brow, and he was getting distressed again.
"I will take care of it," Brennan said. Honestly, she didn't know how much she could do, but she did have a few contacts in the Department of Defense—or at least a few people in the government who could get her in contact with them. She doubted that she could get Jared's job back, but hopefully she could get him released.
"Bones, you don't have to—"
Brennan easily cut him off. "Booth."
Booth watched her for a long moment before he closed his eyes and turned his face into her stomach. He let out a slow exhale and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, his body began to relax, until he had melted completely into the bed—and into Brennan.
She didn't feel trapped, or suffocated. Instead, Booth's long, strong body covered her, comforted her, and anchored her. There was that familiar pull to run away, an urge to hide from the feelings she had spent so long denying, but Brennan took a deep breath and thought about how it was time for Booth to have someone take care of him… and how much she wanted to be that person.
More and more, she found herself thinking about how easy it was to be around Booth, how he didn't expect her to change and liked her just the way she was. Brennan was now at the point where she could not imagine her life without Booth and frankly, she didn't want to. So much of her life was planned around Seeley Booth and at one point, it had scared her quite a bit; the more time they spent together and the more time that passed, the weaker that fear became.
She thought Booth was asleep, and Brennan gave in to the desire to stroke her fingers down the curve of his cheek, trailing her fingertips along the strong line of his jaw. It was something she had imagined doing many, many times over the years, and given the raw emotions they had shared, she simply couldn't pass up the opportunity.
Booth wasn't fully asleep, though. He didn't open his eyes, but his lips tilted up in a sleepy smile. It was the most relaxed that Brennan had seen him in days, and he snuggled a little further into her. Brennan smiled at him, even though he couldn't see it. Seeley Booth was a total snuggler, and the thought amused and pleased her.
"Thanks, Bones," Booth murmured.
Brennan's felt that tightness in her chest again, but this time, it wasn't because of despair, or sadness over what Booth had been through. A warmth began to spread, and she stroked her fingers down the line of Booth's jaw and cheek again before she closed her own eyes.
That night, there were no more nightmares.
Whew. Booth had a lot of feelings here. I probably fudged Booth's history a bit, but let's just call it creative license. Also, I feel like season four was when Brennan really started recognizing her feelings for Booth, and his experience with the Grave Digger in particular gave her a lot to think about.
This has been a pretty rough week for me for personal reasons, so any feedback you guys could give on this would be awesome. Writing has pretty much been keeping me sane at this point, and I appreciate you all taking the time to read this!