Title: Into the Wild
"Apologies and Making Up"
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Rating: T - and the MA version will be mailed to those of you who applied!
A/N: Okay. For anyone else who wants to be added to my mailing list I need your email address. Probably best if you do notsend me this by PM as this website eliminates it from the message. Please email me directly at:
(please excuse the funny spacing, it's really necessary) pereybereparadise () yahoo (.) co (.) uk Look forward to adding you to the long list of smutty minded people! Ha! P.S. If you emailed me at the end of chapter seven, you don't have to do this! I should have got you!
Oh - and thank you all somuch. I've always loved writing, but you guys have made me feel like I'm doing more than brighten my own day! So I hope I can keep you entertained for a while longer.
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The impending storm held off long enough for Booth to light a fire and wrap fish in aluminium foil.
Brennan rested beneath her sleeping bag. The pain relief had been and gone and she felt the aching throb just below her ribs. When she shifted, her entire body seemed to protest, from her head to her toes. Her knees were raw, her muscles overworked and her behind her eyes her entire head seemed to bang.
"I hate the forest," she whispered to herself, nuzzling her cheek against her makeshift pillow. Outside, the wind howled between the trees, and she felt a chilly gust slip between the open canvas folds. Booth cursed when a small foil pot tumbled from the fire. She sighed. His mood had far from eased, even after his time alone.
She regretted her stupidity from the moment she'd felt the rock come loose in her hand. But she regretted it more now because, not only had they lost the challenge, but she'd effectively hurt Booth's feelings and cheapened everything that had happened between them.
Even she knew men like Booth did not come along often. She should have approached her own fears in a much more tactful way. Perhaps if she'd addressed her concerns like an adult, instead of leaping away like timid virgin they'd have been alright.
The panels parted and Booth knelt by the entrance, proffering a bowl of fish and a cup of water. Brennan shifted, teeth clamped over her lip as she refrained from grimacing. His eyes clouded with concern that went unvoiced. He was pissed. Too pissed to ensure her brush off. Maybe it was closer to hurt. He didn't want to watch her as she whispered how she was 'fine' and he would have to nod in agreement because, of course Dr Temperance Brennan would be fine. She was always damn fine.
"You need to eat," he said gruffly, passing the plate to her. "There's more aspirin in my bag. You'll need that, too." Brennan accepted the fish, resting the cup between her knees, she pressed her fork into the fleshy meat, turning the prongs until the fish broke apart. Booth sighed. "Are you going to play with it or eat it, Brennan?" She glanced up. He'd called her Brennan a few times since their debate. No Bones.
"I'll eat it soon," she said, turning to his bag. "Everything in there remained dry." Booth half nodded, half shrugged.
"There's waterproof lining inside. Only the top items will be wet." He shuffled outside again, and she speared another chunk of fish and took a bite. Unsalted, unflavoured with no dressing. Hardly Michelin Star. Brennan took a sip of water, wincing when even swallowing hurt her side. Her chest hurt to breathe. Each movement felt like an enormous effort.
Outside, Booth made a racket with the fire, pouring water of the flames and packing away the grill. After a few long minutes he slipped back into the tent carrying a small cup. Steam rose in curling columns, and Brennan imagined, again, being home in the tub, soaking away the aches and pains she felt.
She picked through the fish bones, swallowing the remainder of the flesh and emptying her cup. When she set the plate aside, she caught Booth's eye and tried to smile. His expression remained impassive.
"Take your clothes off," he demanded, pulling off his shoes. She recoiled.
"What?"
"Don't worry, Bones, I'm not going to make another pass at you. You need your wounds cleaned again." He gestured to the steaming water he carried, and tilted his chin. She saw hurt flash inside his eyes again, and felt a blush creep along her neck. How had their circumstances become so dire? How could she salvage the situation?
Unbuttoning her shirt, she slipped the material over her arms, catching sight of her own bruises. She grimaced. Her skin was marred with blackened circles and angry red marks. Where she'd cut her side the wound had swollen, blotched and revolting. She felt unattractive. As though her body were butchered.
"Lie back," Booth commanded her and she wordlessly complied, resisting the urge to hide the abrasion. Booth had torn a piece of cloth from a t-shirt and soaked it with hot water. Wringing the material, he dabbed her side, carefully watching her face for a reaction. Brennan closed her eyes, pursing her lips.
The hot cloth seemed to ease her tension and she eventually relaxed, releasing her breath from her lungs. Booth blinked, his expression seemed to soften, and so did her resolve.
"I'm sorry," she whispered at last. He drew his hand away, dipping the cloth into the water again.
"Yeah. I know," he replied, clenching his fist, squeezing the liquid from within the fibres. "I'm sorry too. My mind went into over drive." She nodded, tears prickling her eyes. She had cried more in a single day than she could remember crying in years. There was something about being injured in the middle of nowhere that made her realise how fragile the balance of everything was. It made her realise how many things she stood to lose in life.
She'd grown up without her parents and had believed for so many years that doing things the risky way didn't matter because she'd already lost so much. But looking at Booth, she realised she'd found something new that would cause an equal amount of heartache if she lost it.
"I'm scared of letting people into my life," she admitted, touching his hand as the cloth passed across her ribs. He stiffened, dropping his eyes to the sleeping bags beneath them.
The rain had started, now, heavily beating against the canvas above their heads. The pitter-patter would have been soothing, had they not been crouched inside a small two-person tent.
"I know," he repeated. "It's alright. I understand. Lie still." She froze, gnawing on her lip as she took her hand and brushed the cloth across the wound there too.
"I'm frightened by what I feel for you," Brennan said, draping her arm over her eyes. "It's intense and it's scary. I'm not used to…relying on anyone." Booth nodded, turning towards her pants. He unbuckled her belt, flicked open the button and slipped the cloth over her legs. She ought to have been embarrassed, but she felt a weight crushing her chest that could only be described as overwhelming emotion.
Booth dabbed her knee, his teeth grazing his lip. She saw the want there, and his attempts to conceal the masculine desire he was so powerless to stop.
"Bones…" he began, and stopped. "You're really torn up. We should-" She reached out, dropping her hand to his forearm, clutching there. His mouth closed, and his shoulders sagged, a sigh spilling from his lips. "Look, Brennan, I know what you're trying to say. And I understand," his fingers touched hers. "I really do. It's common knowledge around the Jeffersonian that you have enough in your life to keep you occupied and relationships and commitment are the last thing on your mind." Reaching across he stroked her cheek, it should have been sensual, but Brennan interpreted it as a friendly reassurance. "It's okay," he added, dropping the cloth into the bowl and unzipping the panel.
When he'd disposed of it, he pulled his wet shirt off and replaced it with a dry sweater. She watched as he fashioned himself a pillow and became vaguely aware of her near nakedness and how, she was no longer cold. Quite the opposite, in fact.
"Booth-"
"We need to rest, Bones. It's going to be a rough night." He gestured to the whipping trees above their heads and the blustery wind. She inhaled.
"I didn't want commitment," she said. Booth nodded.
"I know." Phrase of the evening, Brennan thought.
"No, you don't, Booth," she said, ignoring the shooting twinge that moved through her body when she turned. "You don't know anything-"
"Well thanks, Bones! Thanks a lot-"
"I'm falling in love with you, Booth! It scares me more than almost falling off that damn cliff! It scares me more than anything has ever scared me in my life because if I love you that means I have to accept you into my life. I have to accept that I'm not a singular anymore. Do you get it? Have you ever been alone for so long that you don't know how not to be?" His eyes were rounded orbs of astonishment. She felt her stomach lurch with nervousness and closed her eyes.
Booth faltered, quite unsure how to respond.
Her chest heaved, her breath coming from her lungs in raspy gulps. He felt guilty. Yet unbelievably elated. Reaching out, he placed his palm against her torso and she gasped. "Hey," he whispered. Her eyes flew open.
"You're probably finding this all a bit melodramatic, coming from the Jeffersonian's 'Ice Queen' but-"
"Stop analysing, Bones," he warned, shifting towards her. She ran her tongue over her lips, releasing a shuddering breath.
"Okay."
He smiled, bending his head and touching his lips to hers.
"Tomorrow, when you've rested, we can talk more. Until then-"
"I don't want to sleep. I want you to touch me. Like you did last night. Make me feel like that again, Booth." He smiled raking his eyes over her body, watching how she seemed to tremble with need. With desperation and exhilaration.
"You can't have sex, Bones," he said. "You're injured." She crushed her lips against his, insinuating her tongue in his mouth. He moaned aloud.
"Improvise," she whispered.
Well, this is where MA version kicks in. So those of you who like it, I'll send it to you soon.