Author's Note: Well, I had a little spare time, so I managed to do another chapter. We are getting close to the end, so I hope you're all still with me. Let me know what you think, please. Thanks.
As he walked back to the cabin from the surrounding woods, Booth stooped to gather a few more of the smaller branches to add to his armful. While the cabin had a fairly good supply of logs to burn, there wasn't much kindling in the box. He breathed in the cool mountain air and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling. He had always felt like he thought more clearly up here, for some reason. He should try to visit the place more often from now on. He knew that Hank wouldn't mind.
A slight sound made his head whip around toward his car. He stared in disbelief for a second and then closed his eyes. Maybe he had been wrong about not having hallucinations while he was awake, because he thought he had just seen Brennan peering into his car. He was either dreaming, or losing it, big time. When he opened his eyes again, she was still there. He laid his burden down in the wood box and began walking toward the carport. Why in the world was Bones here, and more importantly, how had she tracked him down?
"Bones? What are you doing here?" came out with a raspy sound. That's what six hours sleep over three days did for you. Immediately she turned around and the look on her face was a combination of shock and—was it relief?
"Booth! You scared me! I didn't hear a sound," she gasped. "I'm so glad that you're all right," she continued. "I've been so worried about you."
Booth felt like his mind wasn't quite functioning properly. Could this be a dream, brought on by too much scotch and too little sleep? Brennan was off with Sully on a boat somewhere. Wasn't she? Her sudden appearance here at the cabin did not make sense.
He voiced the first thought that came into his head, "Aren't you supposed to be on vacation?" At her nod, he continued, "What happened? Did Sully get sick or something."
"No, I just decided that I couldn't go with him after all," she replied evasively.
Booth stared at Brennan with concern. It sounded like a classic case of Bones pushing the guy away when he got too close. This had to be a major personal crisis for her. Maybe that's why she had come looking for him.
"I'm sorry, Bones. I thought that you two were really hitting it off. Are you OK?"
Bones looked almost angry at that. It was just like Booth to worry about her even when he should be worried about his own problems.
"Booth, will you please stop worrying about me all the time? What about you? Are you OK?"
Booth blinked at her, unable to figure out why she was so upset. What could possibly have set her off, and sent her all the way out to the boondocks to make sure he was "OK." She must have gotten her wires crossed somewhere. She had given off a weird vibe, too, when he asked her about Sully. Something was going on there, and he needed to find out what it was so he could help her get back to normal.
"Sure, I'm OK." At that she only gave him another glare, so he cleared his throat and tried again, "Uh, why wouldn't I be OK? "
"Because when you came looking for me yesterday Angela said you looked like you were terribly upset about something. I know that I don't always give much credence to Angela's intuition, but she was positive that you were experiencing some sort of crisis. You're always the first one to help me when I have problems. I decided it was about time that I returned the favor."
Booth was taken aback at Brennan's explanation, such as it was. "You mean that just because Angela told you she thought that I looked upset, you canceled your vacation to look for me?" he asked incredulously.
If it was someone other than Temperance Brennan, he would have said she looked cagey. "Not exactly. At first I tried to get in touch with you to find out why you needed to see me so urgently. No one I talked to seemed to know where you were. I talked to your office and Rebecca and all they knew was that you were out of town. Even Dr. Wyatt came by the lab looking for you, wondering why you had missed your appointment. You told me you always make sure someone knows where you are, because of Parker. So when I couldn't track you down I got worried."
Booth gave Bones a searching look. Something about this just didn't sound right. He'd gone away for the weekend before without a search party being called out. Sure, he'd been a little abrupt with Angela, but the lack of sleep would do that to you. He was pretty sure that he hadn't given off any signals that would have told Angela he was having a "crisis," unless she was a lot better mind reader than he thought. He wondered what had really happened to set Bones off. For some reason, she wasn't telling him everything. It looked like he would have to dig deeper to find out exactly what had happened.
"It didn't occur to me that anyone would notice I was gone," he said reasonably. "I mean, it's not like you've ever commented before when I left for the weekend. I figured the only person who would really care is Parker, and he already knew I was going to be gone. And I left word at work. You were supposed to be leaving town yourself, so why would I tell you where I was going?"
When put like that, Booth's behavior sounded almost logical, which Brennan rejected immediately. "Well, as it turned out, I didn't go anywhere. Except here, of course. You left me an urgent message and then disappeared, so I got worried. What else was I supposed to do?" Brennan replied. She was evading his questions, and he knew it. She needed to figure out a way to get him to talk about his nightmares. If only Dr. Wyatt was here, he would know how to get Booth to open up. She was no good at that sort of thing, and Booth was a master at acting one way and thinking another. It was why he was so exceptional at undercover work.
Booth decided to take a little more time to figure out what method he needed to use to find out what he wanted to know without being too blatant about it. Brennan was usually pretty straightforward, but for some reason she was acting like she was hiding something.
"Look, Bones, it's almost dark. Let's go inside where it's warmer," he suggested, and led the way into the cabin. "Have a seat, Bones," Booth said as they entered the front room. "Do you want a drink? Or maybe some coffee?"
"No thank you," Brennan replied, sitting down on the sofa. "I'll take some bottled water if you have it." Brennan watched Booth surreptitiously. He looked exhausted, and he frowned as though his thoughts weren't particularly pleasant. She hoped that she could help him with that, as he had done for her so many times.
Booth handed her the water from the fridge and sat in the rocker. "Are you going to tell me why you're really here, Bones, or do I have to shine the bright lights in your eyes," he said suddenly, immediately going on the offensive. Maybe he could surprise the truth out of her. He was smiling, but his eyes looked like they did when he was interrogating a suspect—penetrating, probing, missing nothing. Seeley Booth was a very difficult man to lie to.
"I don't know what you mean, Booth," Brennan said defensively, "I told you why—I was worried about you."
"Yeah, but what you left out was why you were worried. And don't give me that crap about Angela's intuition. If that was the only reason, you wouldn't have come chasing after me all the way out here."
Booth held her gaze for another few seconds. It was difficult for her to meet his eyes, but she did it. He sifted through what Brennan had said since she got here, and finally came up with the fact that no one other than Angela appeared to have told her anything alarming until she talked to Dr. Wyatt. Brennan might not put much faith in Angela's intuition, but surprisingly she had become quite a believer in Wyatt's abilities.
"You said Gordon Gordon came looking for me. Is that what set you off—something he said?" Booth asked abruptly.
Brennan was shocked at Booth's unerring ability to zero in on the right questions to ask. "Not really, except that he seemed very concerned about the way you were behaving," she said, looking down at her water. "He seemed to feel that something wasn't right with you."
"Bones, this is me you're talking to. He told you something, but it couldn't have been anything specific because of patient confidentiality. So what was it? You can tell me," Booth urged persuasively.
Brennan stood up and walked over to the fire. She had known she couldn't fool Booth for long. The logical thing to do was tell him the truth—get everything out into the open so that they could have a frank discussion. According to everything she had read, talking about his problems would help Booth work through them. On the other hand, she didn't want things to get sidetracked by whether or not Wyatt should have given her such a strong hint about Booth's problems. She didn't want that to happen. After all, Wyatt had only been trying to help Booth. She tried to think of something that would distract Booth and focus him on something else entirely. Suddenly, it came to her.
Straightening her shoulders, she turned around and faced him with her expression full of hurt and indignation. "I don't understand why you're acting like this, Booth. I'm your friend, your partner. Why are you giving me the third degree like I was one of your murder suspects when I'm only trying to help? I'm here because I thought you were in trouble and I was worried about you. When did that become a crime?" The beauty of it was that underneath it all she did feel hurt and indignant about Booth's attitude, so she wasn't lying. Luckily, Booth could nearly always be distracted by her emotional problems.
The slight smile on Booth's face disappeared, to be replaced by a concerned frown. "Look, Bones, I'm not trying to give you the third degree. I'm sorry if it seemed that way. I'm just trying to figure out why all of a sudden you're acting like Dr. Phil doing an intervention and--listen, forget it. Thanks for being so concerned. I appreciate it, I really do." He hurried to change the subject, "Hey, you must be starved, driving all that way. Do you want something to eat? I've got bacon and eggs, bread, cheese, and salami. What'll you have?" Booth decided to let it go for now, since Bones was so upset about it. He'd get the truth from her later.
Brennan gave Booth a sweet smile, "Thank you, Booth, I am hungry. I'll have a cheese omelet. And did you say you have coffee? I'll make a pot while you cook."
Booth shook his head as she turned toward the kitchen. The way to an anthropologist's heart was obviously through her stomach. He'd have to try to find out more later. They chatted together throughout the meal, each of them avoiding the topic that was most on his or her mind. Brennan offered to wash up since Booth had cooked, and he opted to dry. Afterward, they sat by the fire and drank the last of the coffee, talking about cases they had been working on, and Parker's architectural designs. Before either of them realized it, it was nine o'clock.
Booth suddenly realized that he had to figure out a way to tactfully show Bones the door. There was no way she could stay at the cabin--unless he was the one to leave.
"So, Bones, where were you planning to stay tonight?" he asked, trying not to sound too inhospitable.
"I hadn't really thought about it," Brennan replied. "Why? Isn't there enough room here?"
"There's enough room, but I really don't think it's a good idea, Bones," Booth replied uneasily. He had to get her to leave. If he had one of his nightmares while she was around, he didn't like to think what might happen. Once when his brother had tried to wake him, Booth had thought he was one of the torturers from his nightmare and had almost broken his arm before finally waking up. He was determined that nothing like that would ever happen again. He wasn't responsible for his actions when in the grip of the dream.
"Look, Bones, if you leave now, you should have plenty of time to get to the highway. There are a lot of motels there," he suggested, hurrying to open the door. The scene outside was like something from a horror movie. The fog was so thick you couldn't see two feet in front of you. "Damn," he muttered.
"Booth, I can't leave in this fog. I'd drive off the side of the mountain. Listen, there are two bedrooms and a couch in the living room. I doubt that you'll be able to hear me snoring from another room," Brennan said sarcastically.
"Fine," Booth said tightly, "But you have to promise me that you'll keep your door locked and not come out for any reason, no matter what."
"Why, for goodness' sake?" Brennan asked. "What if I have to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water?" She was determined to get Booth to admit that he was having nightmares, and this was an ideal way to do it.
"Listen, Bones, this is non-negotiable," Booth said. "If you don't promise me, I'll have to sleep out in my car."
"But Booth…"
"Look, I have nightmares, all right? Bad ones. If you tried to wake me, or disturbed me somehow, I might accidentally hurt you." Booth confessed reluctantly. "I absolutely refuse to take that chance."
"All right, Booth. I'm sorry. Of course I promise," Brennan said soothingly. She was so relieved that his secret was finally out. It meant that they could begin to talk about it.
"What kind of nightmares do you have?" Brennan asked softly. There was a long pause while Booth agonized over how much to reveal. Nothing on his face showed his struggle. He looked distant and impassive. Finally, his answer came, low and difficult to hear.
"Different things," he muttered. "Mostly about combat, that kind of thing." He didn't meet her eyes because it was something he had admitted to only a handful of people in his life. Even though he knew it was something he couldn't help, he felt somehow ashamed to admit it to Brennan.
"It's OK, Booth. I understand. I have nightmares too: about Kenton and the dogs, about the death squads in South America. Believe me, I understand," Brennan said gently.
Booth did not respond directly to that, but she thought he looked slightly less tense. Instead he said, "You can have first turn in the bathroom while I bank down the fire. The room on the left is the one with the best lock, so you should take that one. I'll sleep on the couch."
When Brennan came out of the bathroom, Booth was staring out the window. He turned to say goodnight and his breath stuck in his throat. With the flickering firelight on her face, she looked like a golden goddess of old, the kind who struck down the mere mortals who dared to look at her. Even in a tank top and drawstring pants, she was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. He was grateful that the shadows hid his body's obvious reaction.
"I put a couple bottles of water in your room," he said in a husky voice. "There's a chamber pot in the corner if you need it." He hoped that the mundane words would disguise what he was feeling.
"Thank you, Booth." She reached out and touched his arm. "I hope you have only sweet dreams tonight," she whispered, and impulsively leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Good night." She didn't wait for his reply, but quickly turned and went into the bedroom.
As the door shut behind her, Booth whispered, "Good night, Bones," knowing that she couldn't hear him. He gave a heavy sigh and dropped down onto the couch. He didn't think he'd have any trouble with the nightmare tonight. He was going to be awake all night waiting for his body to quit aching for Brennan. He wondered how much sleep deprivation it would take before a person was babbling like an idiot. In his case, it probably wouldn't take a whole lot more. He tried not to think of how Brennan had looked in the firelight. This was going to be one of the longest nights of his life. He closed his eyes in exhaustion and prayed for morning to come quickly.
