Disclaimer: See ch. 1
Spoilers: Through the season 4 finale
A/N: Again, sorry for the extremely long wait! I feel like I'm ripping this story out of my head kicking and screaming. I mean, I've got most of it all planned out, but actually getting myself to sit down and write it is a whole other fiasco. Ah well, I hope you enjoy this one!
Previously in The Ex at the University:
"I won't accept any less than all of you, Bones," he told her gently. "And if you can't do that--" He paused and searched her gaze with his own, all the while wondering if she could see the pain it caused him to contemplate her not being able to meet his demands. "Then we can't do this," he finished, motioning between them.
With that, he turned and headed for the bathroom, and probably a cold shower, leaving her to her scattered thoughts.
"Oh my God, Bren, a stalker? And he blew up Booth's car? Why didn't you call me sooner?"
Temperance shifted on her hotel room bed, straightening the pillows up behind her and smoothing the too-stiff covers. She'd just finished explaining the whole ordeal to Angela and was just now bracing herself for the worry and concern her friend was undoubtedly about to express.
"Well, with one thing and another, we've been rather busy. You'll take a look at the photos, though, won't you, Ange?"
"Of course I'll look at them, sweetie. I'll let you know anything I can. God, are you sure the two of you are alright?"
Temperance glanced uneasily at the closed bedroom door, thinking of how Booth had pressed her up against it only minutes before. His demand flashed ominously through her mind. "I won't accept any less than all of you, Bones."
She took a deep, shuddering breath and gripped the cell phone a little bit tighter.
"We're fine, Angela. Booth's injury is healing nicely. He doesn't even take the pain meds anymore. The stitches should come out in another day or two."
Angela snorted softly. "He's probably just playing the tough, macho FBI agent. Refuse the medication no matter how much something hurts."
Temperance was sure that was partly true. Booth would also not want to be impaired in any way while he was dealing with an ongoing investigation. Especially one involving her… She pushed the thought away.
"Agent Perotta seems to find him plenty tough and macho," she heard herself saying.
"Ah," Angela said in a knowing tone. "You had mentioned she was there."
"Cullen sent her."
"I'm picking up some hard feelings here."
Temperance forced herself to sound innocent and aloof. Something she'd never been particularly good at. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Uh, uh, uh, no fooling me, Bren. You might be able to fool yourself. Heck, maybe you're still even fooling Booth, but I know you, hon, and I recognize jealousy when I hear it."
"Wha—I—that's ridiculous."
Angela ignored her. "I'd noticed it the last time you guys worked with her. I mean, the woman is an outrageous flirt, and if your glares could kill, she'd be six feet under right now. But don't worry, sweetie, your man's got eyes only for you."
"My…my man? Angela, he's not my…"
"When are you two going to step out of Denial Land and join the rest of us mere mortals here on Earth? Because everyone else can see it, hon. It's just the two of you who are blind."
The water cut off in the outer bathroom and Temperance's heart pounded frantically in her chest. She could see him in her mind, naked, water dripping down his chiseled chest to his well formed pecs, lower to his…a shudder rippled through her and she forced herself to focus back on what Angela had been saying.
"What can all of you see?" She asked quietly.
Angela was silent for several moments and Temperance began to worry that she wouldn't answer.
"Ang…"
"That you're in love."
The rest of whatever Temperance had been about to say got stuck in her throat.
"But I'm not…we're not…we're just partners."
"You both keep saying that, Bren, but the way you guys act, the way you look at each other, the way you speak of each other, it proves that you're more."
Temperance's head was reeling. First Booth, and now Angela? How could everyone presume to know her mind when she wasn't even sure she knew it herself? Booth hadn't come right out and said anything, but the way he'd been so adamant, so sure that there was something more between them… "Between you and me, Temperance, it could never be just a fulfillment of biological urges. There is so much more to this, to us, than that, and you know it."
"But I'm not…I can't be…in love."
"Why not?" Angela asked softly.
"Because I…because it… love is not a quantifiable emotion," she reasoned. Who was she trying to convince here, Angela, or herself?
"Oh, sweetie. Emotions are never quantifiable."
"They're mental and physiological states in which…"
"They're also completely subjective, Bren. Meaning that no one can really measure them; they're different for each individual. Stop trying to fit everything into the realm of factual, definable scientific equations. Love was never meant to be defined like that."
Temperance sunk further into the pillows and listened to Booth moving around in the outer room. It was sort of comforting just knowing that he was out there, even though her thoughts were in complete chaos in here.
"How do you know, then, what it is? Or even that it exists? Angela, I…"
"Let me ask you a question, sweetie. Does the wind exist?"
"Yes, of course, Angela. Why would you ask such a…"
"How do you know?"
All was silent in the other room. Booth must have decided to sleep on the couch. For some reason, that thought made her incredibly sad. She shook her head and refocused.
"What? How do I know what?"
"How do you know that the wind exists?"
Temperance shifted uneasily on the bed. She knew that this was probably a trick question, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what Angela was getting at. That sort of thing was Booth's forte…
"I…I can feel it—on my skin or in my hair. And I can see its effect on other objects."
"Exactly," Angela breathed triumphantly.
Temperance felt her eyes narrow. "What?"
"Love. You can feel it—your love for another person. And you can see its effect in the way two people act around each other, the way they look at each other, what they're willing to do for the other. That's all love, honey. That's how you know it exists."
Temperance muddled through those highly irrational words for a few moments before clearing her throat. "But how do you know…when you feel it, that is?"
"Oh, sweetie, it's different for each person."
"But how do I know, Angela?"
Another long, silent pause followed before Angela spoke softly from the other end of the line. "What you feel for Booth, have you ever felt it for anyone else?"
It took her awhile to answer that. It wasn't easy to categorize what she felt for Booth, let alone compare it to what she felt for anyone else.
"Bits of it," she finally admitted.
"For whom?" Angela asked.
"Well…my parents, I suppose, back before…" she cleared her throat, "when I was younger. And Russ. With Sully, also, but it wasn't as…"
"Intense?" Angela asked.
"I was going to say acute. But yes. And I guess I feel some parts of it for you and Jack and…Zack."
Angela remained quiet, allowing Temperance the time to fully comprehend what she was saying. She'd never thought of it in these terms before—comparing what she felt for Booth with what she felt for those other important people in her life. There was affection, of course, and a deep sense of caring. But with Booth…
"How do you feel when you're with him?" Angela asked finally.
"Safe," Temperance answered automatically. "Physically, of course, but then I can take care of myself if I have to."
"Of course," Angela said with a light laugh. "How else?"
"It's…hard to describe. Emotionally, I guess, or psychologically. I don't know. It's like, he understands me. He sees the real me, the whole me, and he doesn't want me to change. I feel like he tries to keep the rest of the world from trying to change me, as well."
"He's the filter," Angela said quietly, "between you and the rest of the world."
Temperance chuckled. "Lord knows I need one. I'm not exactly a people person."
"And he knows that, sweetie. And instead of trying to fix you, he's that person for you. He shelters you, protects you from those who don't understand you like he does."
"Yes," Temperance said, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her chest, "that's exactly how I feel."
"What else?"
"I…I'm free with him; freer than with anyone else. I can be me. I can laugh and be silly and childish and he doesn't care. He doesn't judge me. He's not always expecting more from me. In fact, sometimes I get the feeling he wishes I'd do less."
"And how do you feel when you're not with him?"
"I don't…I don't think that I understand. There are many times when we're apart and I've gotten along just fine."
"I don't mean apart for a few hours or a day or two. I mean truly separated. How did you feel when he was shot last year? When you thought he was gone?"
A pit opened up in the bottom of her stomach and it was like her whole self, her whole world was sucked down into it. Her vision went blurry and unfocused.
"Angela," she gasped, blinking away the tears.
"It's alright, sweetie. I already know; you were devastated."
Devastated did not even begin to describe it; the word itself was not nearly strong enough to describe the horror, the absolute gut wrenching terror that she had felt the moment she'd been informed of his death. Broken, incomplete, torn asunder, those were more apt terms for what she had been. It had been like a whole chunk of her had just been ripped out and thrown away; a rather large chunk—almost like a whole half of her.
"How did you feel when he was taken by the grave digger? Or when he had the brain tumor? Or the other night when he was unconscious and bleeding on top of you?"
"Angela, stop. Please, stop. I get it."
She was taking deep, slow breaths now to keep from hyperventilating. Even the thought of Booth injured or in danger or… dead. It was too much. It didn't make any sense at all; he was perfectly safe in the next room. It was not rational. But then, as she'd recently learned, love was not rational.
"Can you picture life without him?" She heard Angela ask as if through a haze. There was no thought required in answering that question. She'd had reason to contemplate it before and the answer had not changed. Would never change, she realized.
"No."
"So what are you afraid of?" Angela cajoled. "What have you got to lose?"
She was afraid that he would leave her, just like everyone else. She was afraid that he wouldn't. She was afraid of losing her independence, her strength, herself. She was afraid that she couldn't feel for him what he needed her to. She was afraid that she would feel too much for him and that it would end up consuming her. But more than anything, she decided, she was afraid of never having known what she could have if she allowed herself to give in and fall into the arms of Seeley Booth.
"I don't know," she told Angela.
"Just go for it, sweetie. You'll thank me sooner or later. I'll check out those photos and let you know what I find. Be careful up there. I'd wish you luck, but you don't need it." And with that, Angela hung up, leaving Temperance to contemplate the impossibility of being in love with Agent Seeley Booth.
A/N: I know Brennan seems a little more insightful than she might usually be. Chalk it up to Angela's influence. Sorry it's such a short chapter, I really just wanted to get something out there for you guys. I promise there's more action to come—both kinds, of course;) I was totally hoping to get this story finished by the time school started up again, but the writer's block is killing me. Bear with me and I promise I'll finish it. Thanks, again, for reading and don't forget to let me know what you thought!