Weathering the Storm

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in posting. This chapter had to be rewritten a couple times! Whew… anyway, here it is… finally finished.

Chapter 5: The Talk

Booth looked at her with an open, unguarded expression. He was tired, but he'd stay up all night if that's what she needed. But she looked like she badly needed rest. The hotel, actually a bed and breakfast on the main street of Forest City, had been almost completely booked. They'd been lucky to find one of its five rooms unoccupied; several other travelers had also found themselves stranded by the dangerous storm. It was a large room, comfortable and tastefully decorated, it's most valuable asset being a large desk they'd been using all night working the case with the squints via internet.

"Are you sure you're not too tired, Bones? You've had a tough day." They were sitting side by side on the bed, propped up against the headboard, both in T-shirts and sweats.

"I am tired. But I don't think I'll get any sleep without talking to you first."

She twisted a corner of the bedspread around her finger. Silently, Booth scooted up so he was sitting close to her. Her sock-covered feet were tucked up under her and she had kept her jacket on over her thin T-shirt. Now she was pulling it around her body and shivering. Whether she was cold or nervous wasn't clear. It was kind of cold in this room, Booth realized. He wanted to put an arm around her to warm her up, but he wasn't quite sure where they stood. That would depend on what she needed to talk about. After a moment's deliberation, he reached for her hand and played with her fingers. He was relieved when she didn't pull back like she would have only a few days ago.

"You were going to tell me why you're concerned about the change in our relationship," he prompted. "I gotta tell you, Bones, I think our relationship is about as close as any I've ever had, and it has been that way for a long time. I don't think kissing you changed that. It was a natural expression of how we already feel about each other." His thumb continued to rub gently around her palm.

"But it did change how we see each other."

"Not for me."

She was silent at that sweet admission. He sounded so matter-of-fact, so sure of his feelings. Turning to face him, she stared at him without speaking until he began to wonder if something was wrong. Booth frowned and a little pucker formed between his eyes. But as soon as she saw him start to worry, she hastened to explain her thoughts.

"Being your partner is something I can count on. When we have problems working together, we push through them. I'm aware that I have a tendency to sometimes make tactless comments. But because we're partners, even when you get mad at me I can still get up the next day and go to work and know you and I will be fine. We figure it out. We do this because we know we're a good team. We're a great team, and what we do is important. But that's at work."

"It's not all work," Booth said. "We're a good team because we're good together. You understand me, and most of the time, I understand you, too. We get each other. I'm not sure how or why, but we do. You know it's true."

"Yes, it is true," she hedged.

"So what's wrong?"

"Booth, every personal relationship I've had has run its course and ended. I don't do well at relationships. I think it might be a mistake to cross that line with you. I don't want to lose you."

Is that really what you want?"

Brennan was silent, but her eyes filled with pain and longing.

"You want to know what I think? I think you want to avoid being hurt by not allowing yourself to love anyone." He maintained his hold on her hand. To his relief she didn't pull away.

"But there are people I love, Booth. I don't hold myself back from loving Russ, or my Dad."

"You did, at one time. Are you sure you're not still holding something back, just to make sure they can never hurt you again?"

"No, I'm not. Well… I'm not sure," she admitted, shaken. She pulled her jacket closer as if she could pull into her shell. "I guess I try not to think about it. They are back in my life and for that I'm grateful."

"I seem to remember you were furious with both of them for a while, back when you first found them again. You didn't even want to talk to them. All that anger means you must have felt hurt, right? You haven't dealt with that hurt, Bones."

"I've gotten past it."

"You've buried it."

"I don't know what it means to deal with it. I assume you mean psychologically? I've never understood what good it does to express anger and hurt over something that happened in the past."

Booth knew he'd hit a nerve. Brennan jumped up and began pacing, her sock-covered feet shuffling across the tile floor. He swung his feet to the floor and watched. How very hurt she had been was abundantly evident in her expression and his heart swelled with tenderness for her. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and hold her tight, to tell her everything was going to be fine, that he would never allow her to be hurt again. But something told him to wait. She needed to deal with this on her own terms. Booth clenched his fists and willed himself to sit still. Waiting wasn't one of his strong points. She stopped and looked at him.

"What do I do, Booth?" She asked softly, plaintively. Tears were trying to spill over her cheeks but she was holding them back with mighty effort. He got up, walked over to where she stood and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Start with your father," he said. "And please… come back to bed. It's cold."

Turning her by the shoulders, he guided her back to the bed and made her sit down again. She was so tired she was unsteady on her feet and Booth was growing concerned that she was pushing herself too hard. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he shouldn't have kissed her in the car the night before. That kiss had been amazing, wonderful; but she'd been acting uptight ever since. But wait; she'd kissed him first, right?

"My father? My father was very involved with Russ and me. He inspired my love of science. And in spite of everything esle he's done, all the con-man stuff, it's still his first love. You know how Dad is."

"Yeah, Parker loves his science enrichment class with your Dad. He's really enthusiastic and it's catching." Bones looked up and smiled at that. Although she never talked about it, she was proud of her Dad and Booth saw it shining on her face.

"Dad wasn't home in the evenings a lot as I got older, though. Looking back, I suspect those were the years he was involved in illegal activities. Mom went with him a lot, too. Russ and I spent a lot of time by ourselves then."

"So…" Booth prompted.

"So what?" Bones was clueless. Booth would have to spell it out for her.

"So, you're angry with your Dad for spending less and less time with you as you got older."

"Yes, I think you're right," she said, genuinely surprised. No wonder she'd never dealt with this, Booth mused. She needed a road map for even the simplest leaps of logic when it came to her own emotions.

"How much time do you and your Dad spend together in a typical week?"

"You mean now?"

Booth nodded.

"I see him at work in passing, and we have dinner and play cards every Sunday night. You know that; I had you and Russ over to play cards with us a few times."

"You're right, it was great; but I didn't realize it was a weekly thing. That's really nice. So how do you feel about good old Dad now that you two see each other regularly?"

"I think he's trying very hard to make up for the past."

"Bones… have you forgiven him for the past?" Booth leaned his chin on her shoulder and looked at her, daring her to avoid his question. Although she squirmed a bit, she met his gaze and answered.

"By forgiven, do you mean have I forgotten the past and can I start over, fresh? Because I can't forget that he left me and Russ."

"My understanding of forgiveness is that it isn't forgetting what a person has done so much as we agree to start over and not hold onto the past mistakes of that person."

"That explanation helps me," she said, after mulling it over. "And I have had some experience with that definition of forgiveness since my father came back into my life. Somehow, if I take each day I am with Dad as a chance to just enjoy being with him, I feel that I am learning to love him now, in the present. This approach seems to work, Booth. But if I have to forget what happened and how I felt when he left, then I suppose I haven't forgiven him and I never will."

"You'll never forget, but you can deal with it and get past it."

"Booth," she said tentatively. "What about you? Have you forgiven your Dad?"

"No," he finally said grimly. "I'll tell you something, though. Watching you with your Dad has helped me more than you'll ever know. Maybe someday I'll get to where I can forgive my own father."

Booth looked so sad Brennan couldn't stop herself from throwing her arms around him. He tensed with surprise but it only took him a few seconds to recover himself and wrap himself around her. It felt so good to hold her close.

"You're good for me, Booth. Thank you."

"We're good for each other. As partners and as friends." He was nuzzling her hair in a distinctly not-just-friends manner. Brennan giggled.

"Just friends?"

"Maybe more than friends? I mean, if you're still okay with that. With being… more than friends."

Booth was beginning to stumble over his words. Usually he was the more sensitive one when they talked and the one more likely to end up hurt or irritated with Brennan, while she was at a loss as to what she may have said or done to upset him. Tonight, though, he felt like he was the one walking on eggshells. It was really important to him to not mess this up, so the fear of saying something that would scare Bones away from their fledgling relationship was paralyzing him, causing him to agonize over every word. To his delight and relief, Bones put an end to his uncertainty.

"I've been giving this a lot of thought, and I mean you're good for me on many levels. Booth—you're the most important person in my life."

"Really?" Her admission filled him with warmth.

She yawned. "Uh huh," she mumbled, closing her eyes and snuggling against him.

"Wait. Take off your jacket and get in here."

Dropping the jean jacket on the floor beside the bed, he pulled the covers up around them. Funny how being stranded in a car in the middle of a storm the night before had managed to break down barriers that now just seemed to want to stay down. It was the most comfortable, the most natural thing in the world to climb into the same bed, pull her up under his chin, settle down and close his eyes.

"Good night, Temperance," he whispered, enjoying the chance to use her given name. He really liked her name; he'd never told her that. He made a mental note to tell her in the morning.

"Good night, Seeley," she whispered back. He could hear the laughter behind it. He punched her shoulder.

"Don't call me Seeley."

"Sorry," she yawned. She was so not sorry; he could hear it in her voice. Unaccountably he found himself wishing she would call him Seeley more often. He liked the way it sounded when she said it. Now that really was a first; he hated his name.

"Tomorrow we need to get home as soon as we can. You and I have some detective work to do. This case seems to have a missing killer and a missing political aide. Maybe they're the same person?"

"I know—I have a similar theory. Tomorrow, Bones. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Relax. Sleep." He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.

For several minutes together in the dark no words were said. The only sounds were the wind outside and their soft breathing as they drifted off.

"Bones," Booth said, startling her. The sound of her name rang loudly in the dark.

"What? I was asleep," she said, confused. Slowly, his hands ran up her back and came over her shoulders to gently grasp her cheeks. She could feel his warm breath. When he leaned in and brushed his lips back and forth across hers it seemed perfect. She smiled drowsily against his mouth.

"Good night, Booth."

"Love you, Bones."

As he drifted off to sleep, holding the woman he loved securely in his grip, Booth had the hazy, euphoric feeling of déjà vu, of coming home to a familiar place that for a while had been lost to him. Maybe dreams really did come true.

That's it…

The End!

Hope you enjoyed it!