Title: Consecrated Ground
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
Author's Note: This was a difficult section to write – and I feel that it needs a little bit of explaining. I've tried to stay in character, which is difficult – because so much of the Bones/Booth relationship is based on things that aren't said – and I've tried to capture that. I hope that makes sense, and that you enjoy it.
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He couldn't look at her. He stared at her shoulders and makeshift bed, and it was just as bad, because her clothes were rumpled and she looked uncomfortable; propped up awkwardly on one elbow, absently flipping through the pages of an old magazine from the coffee table.
There are a thousand things he wants to tell her – but it's not even an option. He isn't that man; he doesn't know how to be. He has his mother's eyes and his father's hands and he was never good with emotions. Instead he walks up her slowly and kisses her gently on the forehead.
As he walks away he hopes that that will tell her all the things he can't say.
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Howard Epps is still breathing as his body folds from the first shots.
She stands perfectly still, frozen in horror; she knew she could have stopped him.
It's his rattled breath that shocks her into action as she runs over and quickly places one hand over the wounds to his abdomen. He's bleeding too much and she's afraid that if she can't stop it, her partner will be charged with manslaughter.
Her hand is slick with his blood as she searches out his pulse.
Booth says nothing; she hears his heavy breathing behind her as he stands, arms limply hanging at his side, his words echoing in her ears.
"You'll never be able to touch them again."
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She's pacing outside of his door, cursing her ignorance; situations like these confuse her – she's no good at taking care of others. Clenching a fist and drawing a deep breath, she places her hand on the doorknob and enters without knocking.
A lamp is on, sitting on a nightstand, and he's curled up tightly, eyes open and wide awake. His position disarms her, she always thought he'd be the type to sleep sprawled out, as if he was trying to claim the entire bed as his. He looks at her and quickly moves into a defensive sitting position.
"I know I was angry, I'm still angry," she says quietly, honestly. He nods silently, toying with the edge of the sheet. "You did what you had to…and I," pausing, she bites her lip, "Look at me." The simple command surprises him but he raises his gazes obediently. She surprises him still by taking her hand off of the doorknob and sitting on the edge of his bed. "You're the best man I know."
They're both better with gestures than they are with words, so when she takes his hand and whispers, "Thank you," he knows she's forgiven him, and that she understands.
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tbc?
I have a new chapter written, it's more playful and a lot less angsty – I'm all angst'd out. I had originally wanted to make this a B/B thing but ended up being more friendship based – this is a long winded way of asking if I should continue.
Thanks everyone who commented and made my day!