I'm so, so sorry for the delay. I expected to be able to write more over the holidays, but it was the exact opposite. Family reunions and a school project ate up all my time, but I finally managed to crank this chapter out. Anyway, happy belated holidays, and let's have an amazing 2011!
Disclaimer: Bones is not mine, and it will never be mine.
The Truth in the Chapters
The knock on her door makes her smile, because there's only one person who'd be here this late. Setting down the files she'd been reviewing, she crosses over to the door and finds Booth on the other side, just as she'd expected.
"What are you doing here?" she asks anyway, smiling.
"I need an excuse to be here?" he returns, grinning back. He holds up a bag of Thai and says, "It's been too long since we kicked back with some good Thai and a movie."
Too long. Yes, it has been too long. Warmth fills her at the familiarity of it all, and she opens the door wider to let him in. With a wide grin, he brushes past her and sets the bag of food on her coffee table before turning back.
"Don't lock the door," he says, catching the edge before she can close it completely. "I have a surprise for you."
A surprise? Brennan stares at him in confusion and says, "It isn't my birthday."
He laughs at her expression. "I know."
"And it's still a few weeks until Christmas."
He raises an eyebrow. "Gee, Bones, I hadn't noticed."
She frowns and folds her arms. "So what's the occasion?"
"You always think I need an occasion," he grumbles good-naturedly, brushing past her again and disappearing around the corner of the hallway. She stands there in bemusement for a few minutes before he returns, peeking his head around the corner like a child playing hide-and-seek. She doesn't bother stifling her wide smile.
"Illogically enough, I don't think you ever grew up, Booth."
He laughs, only his head and part of his upper body visible from where she's standing. "Bones, that's definitely the most illogical thing I've ever heard you say," he declares. "And that's the occasion."
Hiding his hands behind his body, he makes his way toward her, telling her, "Close your eyes, Bones."
She frowns at him. "This is childish."
"This is fun," he retorts. "I'm not coming any closer if you don't close your eyes."
"Well, you might as well stay there then, because—"
"Bones."
She harrumphs good-naturedly and rolls her eyes before closing them obediently. His footsteps draw closer until they stop just in front of her, and she cracks open her right eye for a split second. She can't catch sight of anything though because Booth scolds in exasperation, "Eyes, Bones!"
She shuts them again and says, "Can I look now?"
"Okay, quick, at the top of your head, what's your favorite name?"
"Booth," she says automatically, and then blushes. She can almost hear Booth pause in surprise, and she's suddenly glad her eyes are closed. At least she can't see his reaction to her probably noticeably pink cheeks.
"That might not work in this case," he says, a smile in his voice. "Another one."
"What am I naming?" she asks, confused. "It might help if I knew—"
He interrupts, obviously amused, "Nope, not going to work, Bones. Just give me a name."
Her mind leaps to Booth again, but she brushes away the thought quickly. She thinks for names—Temperance, Max, Angela—and can't decide on any of them. After a long moment, she blows out a breath in frustration and says, "I can't—"
"Oh good." He sounds happy that she can't come up with one. "Default name then—Jupiter."
And he shoves something warm and furry at her, and she has a sudden, sneaking suspicion as to what it is. Startled and just a bit worried, she opens her eyes quickly to find a small, white puppy in her arms, its warm brown eyes blinking innocently up at her.
"Booth…" she manages, not bothering to hide her shock.
"Look," he says, "after that incident with that guy—what's his name again?"
"Ben?" she guesses, wondering who he's talking about.
Booth nods. "Yeah, him. I figured you'd want some company."
"You mean protection," she corrects, raising an eyebrow. "You know, Booth, if you were afraid I couldn't protect myself, you could have simply gotten me a gun."
He barks a laugh. "Yeah, Bones, because I'm going to hand over a gun to you just like that. It isn't protection, really—this little guy isn't good for much yet—just company."
She glances back into her apartment and shakes her head. "Booth, do you know how many priceless artifacts I have? Not to mention the fact that my apartment policy might prohibit pets."
"Already checked," he answers, beaming. "They'll let you have pets as long as they're well-trained, and this guy is completely trainable." Bending slightly, he scratches the puppy's white head and grins. "Isn't he adorable?"
"Well, yes, but I really can't have him breaking anything…"
Booth straightens with a sigh. "And I'm perfectly willing to keep him at my apartment if you really can't take him."
Her eyes narrow at the all-too-innocent expression on his face. "Booth, was this all an excuse to get yourself a dog?"
He looks surprised for a second before bursting out into laughter. "When did you get so good at reading people, Bones?"
She rolls her eyes and pretends to scowl. "What kind of present is that? I feel slighted."
"Don't be," he says, grinning in that way that makes her want to give him anything he wants. "It'll be our dog." At her continued frown, he adds, "Isn't he cute?"
"Don't try to distract me," she retorts, but her lips are pulling up in a traitorous smile too. It doesn't help that the puppy has begun to wriggle in her arms, its tongue curling upward to lick her chin.
"He's adorable!" Booth exclaims, laughing at the startled expression on her face. "You guys are perfect for each other."
"Well, come inside," she grumbles good-naturedly. "The Thai's getting cold."
She lets the puppy down, and it sets off at once to explore her apartment. Booth assures her that it's well-behaved, so she lets it go with just a twinge of anxiety. There are several priceless artifacts throughout her apartment that she would really rather not have the puppy endanger. The two of them settle in front of her TV with the cartons of steaming Thai on the coffee table, and Booth switches on a crime drama channel. She can't concentrate very well though, what with trying to keep an eye on the adventurous puppy.
"Relax, Bones," Booth says in exasperation when she's distracted for the third time. "If he breaks anything, I'll pay for it. Scout's honor."
"That doesn't reassure me," she answers. "You couldn't afford much with your salary."
He rolls his eyes and sighs. "Bones, you are really good at bringing people down a notch, did you know that? When I need my ego deflated, I can just provoke you a little, and you'll rip me apart."
"I don't mean to insult you," she tells him, a bit uncertain. "I just state the facts." She wonders if he really is hurt by her words, if she should stop stating the obvious and let Booth preserve his pride.
He must see something in her expression because he knocks his shoulder against hers and grins. "Don't worry about it, Bones. It's a thing between us, okay? You keep me in line, I keep you from working yourself to death. Mutually beneficial relationship."
She grins back and leans against his shoulder contentedly, both of them turning back to the scene unfolding on the TV. She finds her mind wandering as the show progresses, focusing instead on Booth. It's been a while since they did this, and it feels like they've taken yet another step toward the easy thing they had before their year apart. They're finding their way back, slowly but surely. Thinking about it now, she realizes that her most prized memories, her best moments, have been here on a couch with him, filled with Thai, leaning against his shoulder, Booth's legs propped up on the coffee table with his mismatched socks just barely visible.
She glances surreptitiously at him, tracing the line of his straight nose and lips, admiring the way his smile is full of white teeth and lights up his dark eyes. Has he always been this attractive? she wonders. Yes, he has. She'll always be attracted to him. But has she ever had such a strong desire to kiss him? Has she ever noticed this acutely how warm he is, how the muscles in his arm flex as he throws it casually around her shoulders to bring her closer?
Has she always had such a strong rush of affectionate emotion as she looks at him?
"Bones? You okay?"
He turns slightly to give her a quizzical look, and she snaps her eyes back to the TV, embarrassed to be caught staring. She hasn't been this distracted by his looks since the first time they met.
"I'm fine," she mutters, reaching for her glass of water. Just as she touches it, Jupiter leaps playfully against the table in a sneak-attack, knocking over both her glass of water and Booth's can of Pepsi. She leaps back with a startled exclamation as both drinks spill into her lap before noisily dripping to the floor.
"Oh god," Booth groans, shooing Jupiter away with his hand as he moves to pick up the can and the glass. "I'm so sorry, Bones. Hang on, let me grab a towel or something."
He disappears into her kitchen for a moment before returning with a kitchen towel. They manage to wipe up most of the mess on the carpet, but her jeans are soaked through and her shirt is a lost cause. With a sigh, she pulls the front of her wet shirt away from her body and grimaces.
"Sorry," Booth repeats as he gently bats Jupiter away again when the puppy tries to stick his nose in the patch of soda and water on the ground.
"It's okay," Brennan answers. "It's just…do you mind if I take a shower?"
"Sure. Of course not." He eyes the wet towel and adds, "Let me just get this hung out to dry, and I'll get going. I'll take Jupiter with me."
She pauses. "Get going?"
"Yeah. Isn't it better if I go before this mutt gets into more trouble?"
"No," she says automatically. She doesn't want it to end, this familiar moment. She wants them to fall asleep on the couch together, her head on his shoulder and his breath mussing her hair. She doesn't want to be alone.
Shaking her head, she repeats, "No, you can stay. Don't you…" A glance at the TV gives her the excuse she needs, and she asks, "Don't you want to see who killed the girl?"
His gaze slides over to the TV too, and he laughs. "Sure. Yeah, I guess I do. I think I already know though." At the slight fall of her expression, he reassures her, "But I'll stay. If you want me to."
"Just let me take a quick shower," she replies, grinning. "And make sure you keep Jupiter out of my things."
Booth grabs the puppy's scruff and playfully ruffles his white ears. "Yeah, no problem there."
With a last grin, she turns and disappears into the bathroom.
He loves her. God, he loves her. Even with stains all down the front of her shirt, she's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen in his life.
He leans down to ruffle Jupiter's ears, chuckling when the puppy sneezes. "You're such a bad boy," he growls, trying to sound stern, but it's hard when the puppy turns his dark soulful eyes on him. So he sighs, grabbing Jupiter and settling him in his lap.
"You're going to be trouble," Booth mutters. "I can already tell." He sighs again and absently ruffles the puppy's ears.
The muffled sound of a shower starting tosses his thoughts back in Bones' direction, and he grins down at the dog. "Isn't she the cutest thing you've ever seen? Huh? Doesn't she just make you want to kiss her?"
The thought of anyone else kissing Bones, even the dog, makes him wrinkle his nose, and he shakes his head. "Never mind. But she sure is gorgeous, isn't she? I mean, those jeans…" He lets out a quiet laugh and shakes his head. "Man, those legs of hers…"
Jupiter stares at him solemnly, and he gets the feeling the pup's listening carefully to every word. He instantly feels the need to clarify, so he adds, "It isn't all physical, though, if that's what you're thinking. She's just…amazing."
The puppy sneezes again, jerking his head in a nodding motion, and Booth laughs. "You agree, huh? Smart kid." He taps his fingers restlessly on the couch arm for a moment before shifting Jupiter off his lap and rising. It's been a while since he was at liberty to wander around Bones' apartment, and he realizes that it's changed, just a bit. The table she used to have in the hallway has been moved further in toward the living room, the pictures on the mantle have been shuffled around, and her bookshelf is messier than he remembers it. But it's still Bones. It still smells like her, feels like her. It smells like home to him.
He feels a twinge of disappointment to find that the picture of the two of them that used to be on the corner table is gone. Sure, he completely understands why she removed it, but it still makes him sad. So many things have changed, and every time, he wonders if they can ever get back to what they had.
After glancing back to make sure Jupiter isn't tipping over some priceless vase or something, Booth wanders back over to the bookcase and glances at the titles. They all look familiar and boring, the science of blah-and-blah researched by Doctor Blah educated at Harvard or Yale or Oxford. He's never been interested in those, no matter how many times Bones has tried to hook him in. He usually can't get past the first sentence without feeling like he's reading a dictionary or falling asleep.
Well, at least Bones' tastes haven't changed any. Booth hums slightly under his breath as he traces the bindings of the books with his fingers, reading the titles and making faces. He's just about to turn away when his fingers run over a stack of jagged pages.
Curious, he retraces backwards with his fingers and finds a thick stack of pages wedged in between a couple of books. They aren't bound together by covers, just held together at the top with a binder clip. Just printer paper with small-print words that already make his head hurt.
He pulls it out anyway, curious. The papers are slightly dusty, like Bones hasn't touched them in a while. Booth turns the first page and pauses in surprise.
It's Bones' book, or at least chapters of it. He remembers bringing her Thai and finding the first chapter on her desk at the Jeffersonian. She'd been embarrassed about it then, but why? Is there something…?
He's too curious to put it down. What is she embarrassed about? He skims past the dedication, smiling at her nod at their partnership, and flips to the first page of the chapter.
His smile fades after a moment, replaced by a frown. The date suggests that the chapter takes place before Andy and Kathy engage in a romantic relationship, which strengthens Booth's interest. He reads a couple of pages with a sudden, growing sense of déjà vu. It's a snippet of the characters' partnership when their feelings come to light, and everything is going to hell. The dialogue is familiar. Kathy rejects Andy, and Booth isn't surprised; he had a feeling it would happen. He reads on to find another scene where Andy finds a new girl—the girl of his dreams—in a bar after Kathy turns him down. The new girlfriend is beautiful and perfect, and Kathy is a whole whirlwind of hidden emotion, so many feelings that it almost makes him dizzy. The nagging sense that he's familiar with the story grows. But it's only when he finds the scene with Andy kissing Kathy in a darkened hallway as his girlfriend waits outside that he fully realizes the truth.
It's them. It's their story. Everything that happened, everything that they felt…Bones wrote about it. He has always wondered how she keeps it in, all those feelings, and now he knows how: she doesn't. She lets them out on paper, whole and uncensored, real. Reading these papers, reading Kathy's feelings, he knows he's seeing deeper into Bones than he has ever seen her in real life. He has finally seen past the scientist, past the strong-walled woman, past all those defenses. He has seen her. The real her.
It feels like he's just woken up, just surfaced from a deep, dark place, and everything that has happened before Hannah and since Hannah is thrown into new light. Kathy was hurt and afraid, and Kathy is Bones. He feels like he's seeing her side of the story for the first time.
The shower stops, and a few minutes later, the bathroom door opens.
He sets the papers down on the coffee table and sits heavily on the sofa.
The truth this time. All of it.
In the shower, she thinks of anything she has that they can watch to spend the time. Movies? Most of her DVDs are documentaries of anthropological dig sites and other scientific subjects. Booth would probably be asleep before they got ten minutes into any of those films. But she doesn't have too many movies she thinks he'd be interested in. Maybe there would be something on TV? Or they can always watch something else; she thinks she might have some movies Booth left the last time he came over.
It doesn't matter anyway; when they're together, they always find something to do. So she hums a quiet tune under her breath as she turns off the shower and pulls a fresh towel from the rack. Slipping into a t-shirt and sweatpants, she makes sure to towel her hair thoroughly before opening the door and returning to the living room.
She doesn't register the change of mood right away. Instead, she makes sure Booth hung up the towel to dry and recycled the can of soda. She chucks her wet clothes in the laundry, checks to make sure everything is in place and that Jupiter hasn't torn up her apartment.
It's only when she returns to the living room, just about to sit back down next to Booth, that she realizes the light, comfortable mood is gone. Booth is sitting almost with the same posture as he had when she left him, but there's a line of tension in his shoulders that she recognizes all-too-well. His eyes are serious, which absolutely confounds her. What did she do? What on earth happened in the space of twenty minutes that sucked the frivolity out of the room?
Then her eyes, searching the room for anything out of place, fall on the coffee table, and everything is clear. A pit of bleakness settles in her stomach, and she reaches down slowly to touch the stack of faded papers.
"Your book," Booth says quietly. "Some of it at least."
Somehow she finds her voice. "A few chapters. They're…private."
Private meaning she'd thought they were safe. Private meaning she'd been sure no one would ever read them, meaning she'd written them on a whim, in a fit of emotion, and she'd never, ever in a million years intended to publish them. And she had never intended for Booth to read them.
"They were on your bookcase," he says. "I was curious."
Curious? She feels a sudden surge of fury, fury so strong she wants to scream at him. Curious? He was bored, waiting, so it meant he could pry into her things, things meant for no one's eyes but her own? He was curious, so he could take the most private things she'd ever written and read them?
But can she blame him? Everything, anything she's ever had has always been open to him. She has never endeavored to hide something from him before, so he must be used to having access to anything of hers.
How wrong. How…awful.
She snatches up the stack of pages and clenches them tightly in her hands. "They're private."
"I'm sorry," Booth says. "I'm sorry. But, Bones, you can't pretend I didn't read them. I can't pretend I didn't read them."
"So?" So forget, she wants to tell him. Forget everything, burn these pages because I wrote them when I was feeling stupid and lost, and why can't we just go back to how we were? Why does it have to be so hard? But all she can do is grip those pages and pray, pray he didn't read it all.
They stare at each other for a long moment before she manages, "How much? How much did you read?"
"Most of it," he says. "Bones…"
"Forget about it," she interrupts hurriedly, forcing herself to sound calm. "Can you just forget about it? It was just stupid stream-of-consciousness-type writing. It doesn't mean anything."
"You can't tell me that!" He's on his feet, looking half-torn between anger and confusion. "It has your real feelings all over it, I can tell. Everything in there is exactly what happened to us, Bones, exactly, except it's not Booth and Brennan, it's Andy and Kathy. What I said, what you said, what we did, it's in there."
She doesn't want to talk about it, because it'll pry open that box of emotions that she's been able to keep sealed for so many days now. "It's private," she insists. "You shouldn't have read it."
He stares stubbornly over at her. "But I did."
"Well, you shouldn't have!" she answers heatedly. "It doesn't mean anything!"
"I should have," he retorts, his eyebrows drawing together in growing agitation. "I should have read that thing a long time ago, Bones, because I never really knew how you felt all this time, did I? I just blundered around pretending everything was okay, but it wasn't, was it? Not to you."
It's going to be okay, she thinks. I'm always okay. Just stop this now before I break again.
"I knew you were mad at me," Booth continues, "but I never knew exactly why. And I never knew…" He sucks in a breath, and his eyes soften. "I never knew how you felt about me."
It's her turn to suck in a surprised breath, because hasn't he always been able to read her like a book? Hadn't he understood her when she had cried to him about never being enough? Hadn't he always, always just known?
"Felt about you?" she repeats dumbly, staring at him.
Booth jabs a finger at the stack of pages in her arms. "You can't tell me you didn't have feelings for me at some time. Kathy in there…It was all from Kathy's point of view, and any idiot can tell that she loves Andy."
"They're characters," she manages lamely.
"Don't lie to me," he says sharply. "Don't you tell me that you aren't Kathy, and I'm not Andy; we got over that stage a long time ago. It's—it's too much to be coincidence. They did everything we did. You put your heart in there, Bones, and I know it."
"Impossible," she says obtusely, hoping to stall him with logic. "If I put my heart in there, I'd be dead." Just breathe and reason her way out of this. Just act oblivious, and she'll find some way to stop talking about this.
"Stop it!" He's truly angry now, his eyes dark and snapping. His fists are clenched, but he doesn't move towards her. She's glad for that, because she's almost intimidated by him as he is now.
"Stop it all, Bones," he snarls. "Stop everything you do, all those defenses and fake smiles and pretend I don't know's. I want to truth—no, I know the truth now, so it isn't any use trying to pretend."
"What do you know?" she demands. Did he get from her chapters what she hopes he didn't? Does he know—
"You love me," he says, quieter now but still fierce. Fiercely believing.
It takes a moment for the words to fully register, and she stares at him, speechless. Yes, she wrote it in those secret chapters. Yes, anyone with half a brain could tell that Kathy loves Andy and make the connection to herself and Booth. But it sounds so…different when said out loud. It sounds so real.
She loves him. She loves him.
She loves him. Does she? Can she love when she doesn't believe in the concept itself?
"You love me," he repeats, his voice firm with conviction. "Or you did once. You loved me, and I never knew."
"Never knew?" she asks faintly, still reeling from hearing those words, that foreign concept, spoken of out loud. "How…why did you tell me I was the one, then? Why did you take that chance if you weren't sure I felt the same way?"
"I thought, I suspected, I was almost a hundred percent sure," he says, catching her eyes and searching them. She wonders what he finds there. "I prayed, I dreamed, I took every sign you ever gave me and built up my case on your feelings toward me, but I never knew. How could I ever know for sure? You were always so closed off, and you hide your emotions like nobody's business, so how could I know?"
"But now…" She clears her throat and looks away, swallowing hard. "But now you do know."
He freezes like her words have punched him in the gut, clearly shocked. "Bones, you…you don't deny it?"
Isn't she done hiding from him? Hasn't she been done since she cried on his shoulder, since he held her when she needed it?
Can't she trust him enough to be finally, completely honest?
"No," she says quietly. "I don't." She sighs and turns away to avoid his eyes.
"You love me," he says again, his tone wondering this time. "You love me. Me." As if he can't believe that he would be her type.
"I had feelings for you," she corrects stubbornly. "I don't believe in love."
He snorts. "Same thing."
She shakes her head. "No, it's not. I'm not like you, Booth. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone, but I don't…love you. I don't believe in love."
Guilt and regret flash across his face, and he sighs heavily, tucking his hands in his jeans. "No, you don't, do you?"
She looks at him in surprise; he never accepts it when she says things like that. He always argues, or tries to rationalize, or tries to prove it to her. But he never agrees.
"What?" she asks, confused.
He nods towards her chapters. "I told you, I read that, Bones. And I…see where you're coming from. Part of it, at least. I can see why you don't believe me about love and why you spooked when I told you I loved you. You're scared."
She makes to protest automatically, but the look in his eyes, sharp and knowing, forces those words back down her throat. She can't lie to him when he has that look in his eyes, that look that sees through any of her pretenses. "Yes," she admits simply. "I'm scared."
He moves towards her at last, his eyes soft again. How does he do that with his eyes, convey such a sense of safety and warmth that she can't help but want him? He stops in front of her and bends his knees slightly to catch her eyes.
"I won't hurt you," he says solemnly. "I swear. I'd never hurt you, Bones."
"Not purposefully," she mutters, glancing away. Not intentionally, but he hurts her without knowing because he's never known her, the real her.
"I'd never hurt you." He moves to find her gaze again. "Don't you trust me, Bones?"
"Yes," she breathes. "Of course." He's closer now, too close. Too close for her to think rationally, to remember what's stopping her from just throwing all caution to the wind and pulling him down for a kiss. She has to clench her hands to keep from wanting him.
And then he's kissing her. She's caught off guard, so startled she just stiffens against him unyieldingly. Her mind struggles to make sense of what's happening, but she's never been able to make sense of anything when his lips are on hers. He's a talented kisser, as talented as she's ever experienced, and when he runs his tongue along her still lips, her thoughts go blank. And she can't find a reason to stop him, if there was ever a reason at all.
Her hands find their way up his neck, up his face, to his hair, and he groans under his breath as her fingers tangle in his hair. His hands, on her waist, travel upward, up until he's cupping her face and kissing her dizzy. He's always warm, but when he's this close, he's like fire, burning hot, hot, hot and drawing her in until she catches fire too, and it seems like they'll never stop, because why should they?
She gasps as one of his hands grazes the bare skin of her stomach as her shirt pulls up, and he smiles against her lips.
"A little out of breath there, Bones?" he murmurs teasingly.
In response, she pulls his head down and crushes her lips against his, letting her tongue run tantalizingly along his lower lip and just grazing him with her teeth. His quick take of breath makes her smile widely and a bit smugly.
"A little out of breath there, Booth?"
He laughs lightly and runs his finger along her bottom lip. "Maybe I am." He gazes at her for a long moment and shakes his head. "God, you're gorgeous. How did you get this gorgeous?"
"Genetics," she breathes back, smiling, "and good nutrition as a child and adolescent."
He laughs again and dips to catch her lips again. This time, it's brief but just as sweet. Kisses with Booth are never dull, and now she definitely has enough experience to be able to make that assessment.
When he pulls away this time, his eyes are bright. "Bones, I know you don't believe in love, but—"
The mood, passionate and thoughtless, evaporates. Her logic, her reason, returns in an abrupt flood.
"No," she says, caught halfway between pleading and ordering. "Don't say it. Don't tell me that you love me." Don't ruin it now.
"Why can't we try?" he asks softly, taking her right hand in his. "We have something, Bones. We always did."
She pulls away from him, wanting him to understand. "I can't," she says helplessly. "I can't. I'm not…I'm not like you, Booth. I can't love you. I don't believe in it."
"I don't care," he says stubbornly. "Do you think I care? Isn't it enough that we're attracted to each other? Isn't it enough that we've been friends, partners, for years and years, and we trust each other enough to try for more?"
His question hangs there, suspended in the silence as they stare at each other, his gaze wide and pleading, and hers conflicted.
"I can't," she whispers. "You deserve better."
His eyes widen in disbelief, and he demands, "How could it get any better? Who could possibly be better?"
"Someone who can love you back," she tries, shaking her head. "Someone like you. You need someone like that."
To her surprise, he laughs breathlessly and reaches for her hand again. "Doesn't that mean you care, Bones? You care about me enough to think about stuff like that, what I deserve. Isn't it enough that you care about me too?"
She pauses, her brow furrowing. She cares about him, yes; that's never been a question. But an open heart…can she do that? Doesn't he deserve someone who has never been hurt before, someone who can give him everything without being afraid?
"I'm…scared," she says, holding one arm between them to keep him from pulling her closer. "What if I can never open up to you the way you want? You need someone with your kind of open heart." As much as it hurts to admit it, she isn't that kind of person.
"Screw my kind of open heart," he scoffs, brow furrowed in determination. "You said that last time, and I accepted it. But not this time, Bones. This time, let's talk about your kind of open heart."
Surprise shoots through her, and she stares at him quizzically, wondering if they're talking about the same her. "I don't have an open heart."
"Not like mine," he agrees. "But you have one too. You're one of the best people I know, Bones. You care about your friends, you care about the victims in cases, and you're always thinking about everyone but yourself. You're incredible, Bones. Why can't you see that?"
Can she do that? Can she open herself up totally, without holding anything back, and trust that he won't break her?
But it's never been a question of trust, has it? She's always trusted him. It's a matter of fear. It's a matter of risk. The real question is: is he worth the risk?
He's strong. He's intelligent in his own way. He's perceptive and kind and courageous. He has always, always looked out for her, even when she hadn't wanted him to, and he has always leant her his shoulder when she needed it. He's saved her on more times than she can remember, he's helped her when she asked for it, and he's made her feel so, so special, like no man has ever made her feel before.
So is he worth it? Is she ready enough, strong enough, to try?
Yes. Overwhelmingly yes.
"Let's do it," she says, squeezing his fingers. "Yes."
He doesn't respond instantly. Instead, he stares at her blankly, like her words don't make sense to him.
"Yes?" he repeats dumbly. Slowly, realization dawns in his eyes, and shock flies across his face. "Yes?"
"Yes," she says, a wide smile breaking across her face. She feels incredulous, elated, surprised. How has she never been able to say this before? When it was always so easy? "Yes. Yes."
He still stares at her uncomprehendingly, so she lets out a laugh—quiet, light—and pulls him in for a kiss.
It's better than before. She doesn't know how, but it is. It's short but sweet, and they can't hold it because suddenly they're laughing. They're laughing and laughing and laughing, and they can't stop. He leans his forehead on hers as they chuckle breathlessly, their ribs hurting, their chests heaving. Laughing at everything and nothing at all.
"Finally," he breathes, staring into her eyes, laughing still.
"Finally," she agrees, holding his gaze, holding those warm eyes with that look that has always been for her, even when she didn't know it yet.
"Hear me out, Bones," he says, holding her arms like he's afraid she'll bolt. "I know you don't believe in love. I know I'm part of what made you believe that. But it's real. This is the one time I know something you don't, so hear me out. You don't believe in it now, but will you give me the chance to prove it to you? Because if you give me the chance, Bones…" He swallows, glancing away for a split second before meeting her eyes again. "If you give me the chance, I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you."
The rest of my life. He's making a commitment to her, one with no real end in sight. This is usually the point she runs. This is the point where she says that's illogical and walls herself up, because she doesn't want to hear those irrational promises that will never be kept. But somehow, she's not afraid this time. This time, she's ready.
"Okay," she says simply, and he breaks out into the widest smile she's ever seen from him.
"Thank you," he says, kissing her again.
"No," she answers, kissing him back. "Thank you." How can she ever thank him enough, for staying when he should have left, for believing in her when she couldn't even believe in herself? For fighting for them even when he was fighting her?
"I love you," he says, squeezing her fingers.
And she smiles.