A/N: This first saw light as a piece of original fiction, but suited Booth and Brennan so well I adapted it for their purposes. No money being made, these guys and their angst do not belong to me. Reviews are like SlowMotionRunning!Booth (awesome, obviously.) Enjoy!
Trade-off
The first time it happens is just after Zack's transfer from the hospital to the institution. They, what is left of them, eat at the diner together. Brennan is the first to leave. Unable to bear the crushing silence any longer, she slips out and her disappearance is hardly noticed by her dejected colleagues. It is not until later that she realizes Booth must have noticed. She remembers thinking that this is what they should teach about having a grad student. Forget the academics she loves so. That love did not, could not, save Zack. And really, she thinks, if it couldn't do that, than what is the goddammn point. She had shared her knowledge with him, grateful to finally, finally, know someone who thought just like her. She had shared the knowledge she used for good and he used it for evil. She doesn't even care that she used god, good and evil, concepts that cannot rationally exist in the purity society believes of them, in the same thought process.
She walks to the Jeffersonian, unable to bear company but unwilling to go home and face the prospect of waking up in a world different from the one she knew this morning. She keeps it together for the whole trip, from the diner to the lab to her office, but no further.
She's not sure how he did it, how he knew to go to her at the very moment she was about to fall apart. When Booth enters her office, he finds her crying on the couch, curled as small as her long limbs will allow. He jokes lamely that she shouldn't have a couch in here, it enables her workaholic tendencies. This prompts a cold, humourless glare from her, and she is annoyed that it didn't scare him away. She worrying for a moment that she's lost her touch, but then remembers it's Booth she's dealing with and since when has he ever been scared by her. Brennan admits now that her tears must have spoiled the effect anyway.
Booth sits down beside her, puts his arms around her and, like he has some many times before, holds her. Her sobs slow and she furtively meets his eyes. She, possible for the first time in their relationship, has nothing to say. There is a long look, one she recognizes the meaning of, and she knows this is going nowhere good but she can't stop it. This isn't like those other times Brennan realizes. Those hugs were sympathy; this, whatever it turns out to be, is grief.
He kisses her then, and it's like a dam breaking. Slowly, and then with ever more power, everything they've held back over the last three years rises to the surface and is let loose. Brennan knows this is wrong on so very many levels, but she cannot help it. His kiss is like everything else about him, powerful and demanding and with a layer of tenderness that she doesn't want to think about and, despite everything, she knows that she needs it. She needs the pure, raw, human contact just as much as Booth.
They do it on the couch, with her sitting above him, her knees on either side of his hips. She is relieved they don't make it to the desk she has to actually work at. She closes her eyes, presses her face to his neck and tries to forget who he is, who she is. She tries to pretend the man
she's doing this with is David or Peter or Michael or anyone that isn't her second partner. She tries to pretend, but somehow can't forget that she wants it to be Booth.
They do not speak, have not spoken since his comment about the couch and, really, there is nothing to say. They both understand how wrong it is, how they don't want it but somehow need it and they trust each other to not make it more complicated than it is.
When it is over they dress quickly and he takes his leave without any awkward attempts at small talk. He simply nods and tells her he'll see her in the morning. She bids him good night and he's gone.
And this is what happens fairly regularly in the nights after. Usually in her office, once in the storeroom Angela and Hodgins have made such good use of. The technicalities of position and location vary, but in many ways it is always the same and the details matter little. It is always late at night, after most of the staff have gone home. They hardly speak and he never stays. Brennan prefers it this way.
She knows the relationship is not normal, knows they are living a lie. She can see the absurdity in discussing cases and forensics all day like there is nothing else going on. They tiptoes around each other, all professional and polite. They try with all their formidable strength to act as if he hasn't seen her naked. As if she doesn't know about the scar on his hip and has no desire to ask how he got it. They play a losing game of denial, perhaps fooling their colleagues but not, for once themselves.
For Booth it is a tainted gift from God. Everything he wanted, in the worst possible way.
Brennan just tries a little harder to ignore it.