First, let me thank all of you who read this and of course special thanks to those who reviewed. I've really been pretty insecure about this one-shot… using present tense and first person.

But since some of you really seemed to like it, another idea in my head beckoned to be written. So, this is now officially a one-shot collection .

The cure…

I give her a thankful smile when she hands me the beer. I'm damn proud of myself.

I just finished setting up the TV and hard disk recorder with DVD player I talked her into buying. Of course – being Bones – she might have been able to set it up herself, but this is man's work.

And she only gave me a five minute speech of how women were perfectly able to do things like that themselves. Five minutes is nothing. So, in the end I won.

And now I'm sitting in front of that impressive plasma TV, wondering if I'll ever be able to afford something like that myself. Thinking of how school just started again and Parker had brought home a long list of things Becca and I needed to buy…. Ah, not likely. So, I just have to spend as much time as possible at Bones' apartment.

I glance over to the beautiful woman beside me and decide that there are definitely worse things in the world than being stuck with her. She cocks an eyebrow at me and I realize I've been staring at her.

Huh. Can beer work BEFORE actually drinking it?

I wink at her and ask. "Ready to try it out?"

"You tried already when you were programming channels and all." She throws in and I roll my eyes.

"This is different. Now the work is done and we can just lean back and enjoy." I explain to her, giving her a pleading look.

"Ah. Go ahead." She waves her hand at the new system and I press the button and ta-da there it is. I really, really wish I could afford something like that. Vibrant colors, big screen, great sound. A dream come true. I may not own the system, but I can still enjoy it, right?

I zap through the channels, quickly passing Discovery Channel and all those things she might find interesting. Wouldn't want to end up watching a documentary about the mating rituals of penguins, now would I? Who produces that stuff, anyway? These people must need an endless supply of coffee to be able to film something like that. Or, which is an disturbing thought, they actually find penguin sex interesting. Perverts.

"Hey, look." I pause at a music channel. "Foreigner." They're showing a concert of Foreigner and I smile when I remember how the sometimes so uptight woman beside me had danced to "Hot Blooded."

As if on cue, the next song starts. And I know that drum intro.

"Come on, Bones… It's Hot Blooded. Wanna dance? Remember the last time?" I smile at her, but the smile vanishes in an instant when I see her pale face, her trembling hand nearly dropping the bottle of beer she was holding

"Bones?" I ask, not sure what to make of the her quick change of mood.

Her gaze is glued on me, her face pale and there is panic clearly visible in her eyes. "Off." She forces out and I shake my head, not understanding what she's talking about. "What? The TV?"

"Yes." Her voice wavers and she gestures towards the screen. I reach for the remote control and set the TV to mute. She is still shaking and I take the bottle out of her hand before she manages to spill the content. "Bones, you look as if you've seen a ghost. You're scaring me."

Her eyes still hold that gleam of panic when she reaches for my hand. She's holding on as if she needs to make sure I'm still here. And that's the moment when realisation hits. "It was the song, right? Hot Blooded."

She nods, her breathing slowing a little, but her hand in mine is still trembling. She looks as if traumatized.

I swallow hard and whisper. "Tell me. Tell my why you're scared. It will help." She shakes her head, but after a moment complies anyway.

"I can't listen to it." She forces out. "It …. brings up memories." Her voice sounds exhausted and I think I hardly ever saw her looking so pale and fragile. I do what comes naturally and hug her. She sags against me and I'm shocked at how limp she feels in my arms. "Bones, what scares you that much?"

"You." She whispers and I'm shocked. Shocked to the core. Her voice sounds tormented and I really don't want to be the reason for her pain. I draw back a little searching her eyes. They're filled with unshed tears.

"How did I do that?" I ask, trying to give my tone a casual note. And failing miserably.

"You got blown up by my fridge. I hear that song… and… and… I smell the smoke again." She stumbles over her own words. I'm once again shocked by the fact that something had managed to get her so out of sync.

"And I…. I have to put out the flames. I… need to check for your pulse and I … have to put out the flames…." Now the tears are falling, streaming down her cheeks and slowly I start to understand that the bomb in her fridge had put me in hospital, but somehow had scarred her far more deeply than me. Traumatized her.

"Hey, it's okay." I murmur and brush away her tears with my thumb. "You put out the flames. You did great."

"I thought you were dead." She forces out and more tears start to fall. "I thought you got killed because of me."

"Hey, hey. I'm here, right here and I'm very much alive." To prove my point I take her hand and put it on my chest, over my heart. "See, I've got a heartbeat."

A ghost of a smile wanders over her face. "I know." And more tears are falling and she sags against me once more. I have no clue what to do, but to hold her close, wait the storm out with her. What else is there to do, really? It feels good to hold her, but I really wish she would stop crying…. The sound of her painful sobs hurts me, too.

"Bones, shh, shh." I murmur again and between sobs I suddenly hear words. "…Blood. And I can't stop it. So much.. so much blood. My hands are full of your blood…."

I'm pretty sure that my broken ribs hadn't been bleeding when her fridge had blown me up. "… shot. Because of me. And then you were dead. YOU WERE DEAD." She suddenly pulls back and yells at me and I realise she has left her apartment and the memory of the bomb in her fridge.

She has moved on to the evening in that karaoke bar. When I had been shot. When I had stepped in front of a bullet that had been meant for her. Which I would do again. Because I'd rather die myself than see her in pain. And only now I realise how much pain my fake death must have caused her. I silently curse Sweets.

All the tears she seemed to have denied herself are now streaming down her face as she frowns at me. "You were dead, you bastard. You just left. How could you just leave me?"

"I'm here, Bones." I whisper. Her pained voice has me swallowing hard against tears that threaten to build in me now too. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did. You made me depend on you and then you took it away. It hurt so much." She sobs again and her words rip through me like the bullet that I had taken for her. No, the pain is worse. Different and worse.

Her red-rimmed, teary eyes hold an accusatory gleam in them and her trembling hands are clamped down on mine. There's desperation in her eyes that mirrors my own.

I've got to tell her how much she means to me. I know it. This is the moment. It's now or never and I free my hands of her grip, then cup her cheeks with them, brushing another tear away.

"Temperance. I'd die for you. Because you're so damn precious to me. I love you." My throat closes after I said those words. My voice had sounded unsteady and odd, I realise myself. My heart beats so fast the sound blurs together, but time seems to stand still when another pained sob escapes her. She gives me an incredulous and surprised look, but then relief shines bright in her eyes and she launches herself into my arms again and she holds on as if for dear life. "Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me." I hear her whisper and I press a kiss to her temple. I know she's finally opened up to me. And I'm glad she did.

"I couldn't." I say. "I need you."

She remains silent and I whisper into her ear. "I have memories too. Horrible ones, Bones. How I found you, when you were taken by Kenton. Your phone call from New Orleans." I swallow hard, because here comes the hardest, the hardest part. "The phone call from the grave digger." I take in a slow, steadying breath. "That was the worst. When time had run out…. I thought I lost you." I feel tears burning in my eyes too. But it's okay. She'll understand.

"You didn't give up." She whispers, her voice low, barely audible.

"I couldn't." I close my eyes and savour the feeling of her in my arms. "It would have made it ... real. And I couldn't accept it. Couldn't lose you."

"Then don't." She says. Simple. My squint manages to simplify what I always thought she'd analyse to death. But it was so easy. I wouldn't lose her. She wouldn't lose me. We'll just hold on to each other.

She shifts in my arms, pulls back just a little, to be able to look into my eyes. I'm not sure what kind of emotions battle inside her, but I recognize the moment when the war is over. Her eyes are shining brilliantly, and though they are red-rimmed from crying, she is beautiful, so beautiful to me. I wish I could tell her, but my vocal cords won't work.

Then she suddenly closes the distance between us, presses her lips against mine. Gives me a sweet, long kiss. My eyes are still closed when she suddenly pulls back again. "I love you too." She whispers and I can't suppress a shudder. I've dreamed of her saying these very words. Then she covers my mouth with hers again, the kiss becoming more urgent, more demanding. Her hands wander over my chest, my back and I feel the heat burning between us.

"I need you." She breaks contact long enough to whisper in a husky voice to me. "I need to feel you."

"Yes." Is all I manage to say. It has to be enough. I'll just show her, how much she means to me, since words elude me. I kiss her back with all the passion I had been holding in for…. I don't remember how long. It seems like an eternity.

We change positions without even thinking about it, I lean back and take her with me, her body covering mine while she kisses me as no woman has ever kissed me before. Her hands wander under the hem of my t-shirt as mine start to unbutton her blouse. My head suddenly collides with something hard and the TV starts blaring "I want to know what love is" at us. Seems I pushed a button, huh?

She smiles at me and whispers "Show me."

I try to pour all my love and desire into a kiss, then I finish unbuttoning her blouse, softly brushing the material away. "You're so beautiful." I whisper at the sight of her perfect breasts covered in white lace. Her mouth crushes down on mine, then she gets rid of my shirt, her fingers tracing the outline of my muscles.

"You look great too." She says and I suck in a breath, when her tongue darts out to replace her finger. She licks her way up from my stomach to my breast, then over my throat to my mouth, where I have to capture her tongue in a kiss before she dares to let it wander off again.

I unhook her bra and smile at the sight of her now bare breasts. "Come here." I say and draw her nearer, then I start nibbling and licking my way over her breasts. Her moans tell me she likes what I'm doing, but I ask her anyway. "Like that, do you?"

"Yes." Her husky whisper makes me feel even hotter than before. "What else do you want me to do?" I whisper.

"Show me." She repeats her words from before. "Show me, how it's supposed to be."

And I will. Over and over again. Foreigner's music plays to our love-making and one of my last coherent thoughts before losing myself in her is, that she's probably cured from her trauma about Hot Blooded by now. And if not, I'll make it my mission to cure her.

Soooo, what do you think? OOC, I know, but somehow it begged to be written like that.

Please let me know what you think!