Title: Beyond the Fear
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: T
A/N: Thanks to everyone for the continued support. I am so glad everyone is enjoying this. I like to think that Brennan's reaction to Booth's admission here is a little more realistic than her being wildly jealous – because I simply don't think she would be. Thanks.
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Brennan dressed, silently contemplative, while, on the bed, Booth lay, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Although he couldn't see her, he knew each movement she made, perfectly choreographed; underwear first, jeans, shirt and when she began to run a brush through her hair, he shifted his gaze to her. The early morning light cast a golden glow through the silken strands.
"Camille called me last night," he said, and he noticed her spine stiffen, the movement was infinitesimal, but he was so aware of each movement of her body that he could detect even the smallest shift. Her fingers repeated the path of her brush, fluffing her flattened hair.
"Oh?" she said, placing the antique silver brush on the dresser, slipping red beaded earrings into her lobes. The tiny scarlet gems brushed her jaw as she reached for her necklace, a heavy rope of round polished stones, a similar shade to her earrings.
"She asked me to me her at the diner," he placed his head in his hand, the sheet slipping over his hipbone. She glanced at him in the mirror, her eyes following the trail of dark hair long his belly.
"Is that were you went last night?" Brennan asked, slipping her feet into her boots. His lashes brushed his cheeks when his eyes narrowed, gauging her irritation. By all outward appearances, she was calm and collected, in no way threatened by the woman who systematically wanted to destroy her.
"She sounded desperate, Bones," he reasoned and she turned, her bright blue eyes holding no trace of ice.
"Is she alright?" He was surprised by her apparent concern, having never been in a relationship that was so devoid of jealousy. Swinging his legs over the end of the bed, he held the sheet close, crossing the bedroom until he stood before her. Taking her shoulders in his hand, he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, smiling as he did.
"She's fine. Camille just wanted to make sure I'd made the right choice." Brennan blinked, a brief bolt of electric blue shooting through her crystal irises.
"Have you?" she asked, a hint of self-doubt creeping into her tone. His smile was brilliant.
"Absolutely," he said, nodding. "Even if I could have foreseen this chain of events, I'd still be here." He brushed his fingers over her clavicle, feeling her heart leap against his touch, and her reaction to him only proved to reinforce his certainty. "You could stay… go to work late…" he whispered, cupping her breast through her shirt. She leant into him, her nipple hardening through the silken material.
"No I can't," she reasoned, instantly wet. "I need to reassure myself that this relationship isn't going to effect my work." Booth nodded, pressing his forehead to hers. He inhaled her perfume, a sweet floral scent that was both comforting and alluring, all at once. Virginal yet vixen. "Tonight, if you pull another stunt like last night in the hallway…" he shushed her.
"Don't go all school teacher on me, Bones… you enjoyed it." A blush tipped her cheeks, and she hated to admit it, but she did love the dangerous element to his unique spin on lovemaking. She got a thrill, imaging that one of her neighbours could easily have rounded the corner. "Maybe tonight, I'll take you to a parking lot and you can put some handprints on a steamy windshield." She swatted his chest.
"That is so adolescent, Booth," she said, shaking her head. "I would at least expect to be romanced a little, first." He smiled.
"You do have a sense of humour, Temperance," he whispered, "all evidence to the contrary." She narrowed her eyes.
"My humour and yours is just different." She slid from his embrace, gathering her belongings. "I'll see you tonight?" she asked, eyeing the bed. He caught her implication, and grinned.
"Sure," he said, tightening the sheet around his waist when he caught the hint of her wandering gaze. "Oh and, you're not going to rip Cam's hair out by the roots, are you?" he asked. Temperance slid her arms into her coat, a tell-tale smirk toying with her lips. He wanted to touch her, ravage her.
"Booth," she said patiently, "I'm not one of those women." He knew immediately what she meant, and understood that she certainly wasn't. Tempe wasn't ravaged by jealousy – it simply wasn't in her nature. While inwardly, she was probably a little irked at Camille's audacity, and a prickle of self-doubt nudged the back of her mind, he suspected she was almost perfectly confident in herself. Totally self reliant. If he left her now, and shacked up with Camille, Temperance would survive. And he loved that about her.
"You're amazing…" he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching as she buttoned her coat.
"This isn't a line to get me into bed, is it?" she asked, dropping her hands from the little buttons. He grinned.
"I wasn't, but if it worked, it could be…" Brennan rolled her eyes.
"It won't. I need to go." He caught the whisper of goodbye in her voice as she exited the bedroom, and for probably the first time in his life, he hated being alone.
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"Do you love him?" Angela swung the door shut, the glass rattling in the frame. Brennan felt her spine stiffen at the sudden intrusion, and when she realised it was her best friend and not a threatening inquisition, she relaxed.
"I don't feel comfortable discussing it with anyone, Ange," she replied, her fingers moving over her keyboard. "Shouldn't you be working? Doing something constructive before Camille sucks your career out of the Jeffersonian?" Angela grinned, liking the new-found bitchiness of her best friend.
"Nope," she replied, dropping into the couch. "Camille took a few days to visit her family in New York. We're free…" she allowed her voice to drag out the final word for maximum effect. Brennan glanced up. Barely.
"Why?" she asked, suspecting that it had a lot to do with Booth's refusal to be with her.
"I don't know. She called this morning from JFK." Brennan lifted her eyes fully now.
"It must be nice not having to get holidays approved." Angela nodded. "Anyway, if you're here to get information out of me, you can just leave." Brennan pushed her chair back, folding her arms. She looked stern, unwavering.
"Yeah right," Angela chuckled. "What gives… either he's the best in bed or you love him. No way would you have chosen him over career if he wasn't something special." Brennan's fingers tightened, the truth of her friend's words becoming strikingly real. "Ooh…" Angela's eyes widened. "This is brilliant, sweetie, and this time, I promise I won't breathe a word to anyone. Last time it was a huge mistake…" Brennan's gaze flittered to her friend's face and she sighed.
"I want to see how things go, Angela. I'm not going to curse things with words like 'love' and 'special'." She stood, turning away from her friend and the situation.
"You don't believe in curses," she replied. "But you do believe in important relationships. Don't let your fear eat into this one, sweetie. He's too…"
Brennan nodded. "I know what he is," she replied firmly. "And I'll admit it when I'm ready." Angela clicked her tongue, her tone decisively impatient.
"What is he, honey? Admit it now!" Brennan spun.
"Why don't you admit what Jack is to you?" she barked and Angela recoiled, looking as though she'd been slapped. "Because you're afraid to admit he's perfect for you? Don't come in here, Ange, preaching, until you stop making the same mistakes as me." Sliding her hands into her pockets, Brennan blinked, shocking by her own outburst. "I'll admit that Booth is perfect," she paused, "when you do the same." Certain that she'd put an end to Angela's persistent romance, Brennan relaxed.
Angela straightened and stood. "Fine," she said, her tone as firm as Brennan's. "I'll do it. Right now."
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I've been busy so I apologise for the delay in this chapter.