He Shouldn't Have Done That

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Brennan ends her partnership with Booth after she considers his confession to Hannah about her the ultimate betrayal. AU.

Chapter 13 – Twelve Months After, Part II

Throughout the course of history, the majority of mistakes have been explained with the opening line – 'it seemed like a good idea at the time.' This night would be no different it seemed. It was illogical, it was something I had never *ever* possibly conceptualized occurring a year ago. But, here we were. I can't explain it, but here I was... here Booth was... here we were. And, at the time... it seemed like a good idea.

I spent a long time in Booth's arms. I'm not certain why I let him do that or why he let me do that. I think... maybe, it was because he was there, and he offered. After all, I am a user. I take what's offered. It's what I do, what I've always done. So, Booth was there, and he was offering, and I wanted to be held. I wanted to feel something strong, something warm, something that was real. And, so he held me, and I cried. At last, at some point, I didn't have any more tears left, and, eventually my sobs subsided. When I felt some sense of control seep back into my consciousness, I was torn. I didn't really want to be out of control enough to start crying again, but I didn't want to be in control enough to have other negative emotional responses – I didn't want to start remembering my anger, resentment, regrets that lingered over so many things. It would be a delicate line to balance, but if I was careful, I could manage it.

Slowly, I leaned forward and slipped out of Booth's arms. I shivered a bit at the loss of contact. He was warm and strong and… *there*. He watched me as I reached for the bottle of vodka from the coffee table.

As I took a long drink, he said, "Careful. You keep that up, you're going to end up either needing a bucket or passed out."

I nodded firmly at him. "Good. I want to pass out. I do. I want to. I want this day to be over... done with... finished. I want to go to sleep or pass out... just whatever I have to do so that it's not tonight and it's tomorrow instead."

"You can't keep using alcohol as a crutch, Bones," Booth said softly. "Every time... you see something with his name on it... every time you come into contact with some reminder of him? You can't do it. More importantly, it's not fair to him. You shouldn't do it. It's not right. If there's anyone that knows that fact, it's the son of an alcoholic."

My head whipped up at that. "So, you're saying I'm an alcoholic now?"

"No," he said slowly. "Not necessarily. I... I-I'm just saying... it's really easy for something like this to be a fallback response. I think you're starting to use alcohol as a coping mechanism, and... it's becoming habit. It's not a good thing, Bones. It can spiral out of control before you've even realized what's happened."

I slowly nodded. "I know," I said wistfully. "I *know* that… and, I'm working on it. That's why I stopped two months ago. Didn't have a drink that entire time, did I? I stopped before, and I will again tomorrow. It's just... I'll stop. I know I need to stop. Just, not tonight. After tonight, I will. Starting tomorrow when I wake up tomorrow. I promise. Just, I-I-I just… tonight, okay? Just tonight… I need… I know I need… I just need to stop, and I will. But, I can't handle that... and all of this right now, okay?"

He shrugged. "Your call."

I nodded. "Yeah, it is."

Leaning forward, he reached for the glass that he had been drinking from earlier. Grabbing it, Booth extended it in expectation. "Can I?"

I cocked my head at this and said, "Why?"

"Because my buzz is starting to wear off, and I really, really would like to hold on to it for a while longer," he confessed.

Shrugging my shoulders, I refilled the glass. He downed the shot quickly and said, "Can I ask you something?"

I sighed. "Sure."

"When did you decide that you were going to let this thing win? When did you give up?"

It was a simple question. One I wasn't quite sure how to answer, given he could be meaning so many things. At last, I decided an open-ended question deserved an open-ended answer.

"There wasn't really a set point," I said, fingering the bottle's handle. "I mean, I guess... maybe it was today?" I stopped talking and looked away. "You know... you know I've been trying these past couple of months. I've been trying to make my peace with things, let things go. But, it's been a really bitchy year. And... today... getting that goddamn package on today... today, of all days."

He paused and looked up at me. "What's today?"

At this, I swallowed a cry. Of course, he wouldn't remember. Why would he?

Pursing my lips, I said, "A year ago... it was raining, and-" I glanced at my watch and nodded. "As of about a half-hour ago, you had just saved my life in Woodland, and we were driving back to the Jeffersonian, and I was pouring my heart out to you about finally getting the right signal at the wrong time and about not wanting to have any regrets."

The words seem to hit him like a physical blow. He looked up and away from me. Booth's face tensed, but then he looked back at me in a plea to continue speaking.

"So... it's sort of been a cumulative thing. Each time something happened, pushed me a little bit more, stretched me a little bit further, And, today, when I saw that dedication... I realized that my strength... my ability to fight and sustain myself... recover, I just don't have the same stamina anymore. I can't keep taking these hits. I just can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore. I'm done fighting. I just… I just said… 'fuck it'… I know I wasn't supposed to, but, I did try... and I can't... so, I've been going from day-to-day ever since." I paused before I added, "I'm sorry. I know... I know that-"

"No," Booth said. "Don't apologize. You've taken all you could take today, and that's okay. Everyone has their limits, Bones."

"Even you?"

Booth was quiet for a moment before he said, "Yeah, even me."

"Is that what happened the night you went to the Founding Fathers?" I asked, curious.

He nodded. "I was so angry that night... and, then... you showed up... and-"

"What?" I asked.

"How much do you remember about that night?"

I paused, and considered the question. Again, I didn't really know how to answer it given that my memories were… hazy, at best, of the evening. Again, I decided a blatantly honest answer was the best way to tackle the question. "Honestly… yes and no." I pursed my lips together, struggling to see what I could recall.. "I… I'm still a bit… uncertain about… parts of what… happened." I stopped and looked up at him. "How much do you remember?"

Looking away, he flushed at the question, and then, right then, I knew the answer to my question. Booth remembered more than I did… or, at least enough.

Turning back to face me, he said, "I… I… was very drunk… but… I remember… pieces. There are... some things I remember. The details aren't all there, but the general idea, yeah. I remember... a fair amount."

I nodded. "The last clear distinct thing I remember was seeing you at the bar. I was standing in the doorway and turned to leave."

"You didn't."

"I figured as much… I remember… I remember talking to you… us exchanging barbs… you grabbing my arm," I closed my eyes, willing the memories to come back. "I told you to let go of my arm. You had grabbed it so hard, I don't remember you ever having grabbed it so hard in the entire time we've known each other—"

His hand came up to his hair as Booth absentmindedly brushed it back in… nervousness? Uncertainty?

"Yeah, well… that part's a bit foggy for me. I remember you were gonna leave, and I didn't want you to… not… I couldn't let you walk away again," he confessed.

I looked away, trying to wrack my brain for the memories. At last, I said, "I don't remember what happened next."

Booth nodded. "I… I'm a little unclear about that, too. I think… you stayed for some reason. We argued... but then... somehow... we stopped arguing, started talking. You stayed. We talked... bickered... and there was more drinking. More accusations... more truth... it... we said a lot that night. I don't remember everything that either one of us said... but it was a lot. And, at some point, one of the bartenders came over and told us it was last call."

At that, finally, *finally* an image seamed to rise from the depths of my consciousness. Last call. Discussion... debate. Where to go next, what to do next... neither one of us wanting to go home yet... neither one of us really having achieved our goal.

"A cab," I muttered. I looked up firmly at him, seeing the image of the taxi cab solidify in my mind. I nodded and continued. "There was a cab... a cab... and a cab ride."

I could see it… in my mind… it looked like a movie clip being played on slow motion… the bar was closing, a cab was waiting at the curb, both of us were too drunk to stand up without one supporting the other. And, so…

"We both got into the same cab," I sad finally.

Booth glanced at me and then shrugged his shoulders lightly. "If you say so." Booth's tone was softer this time when he continued. "I don't remember anything about a cab ride. One minute we were in the bar, and the next minute... the next clear thing that I can really remember is being here."

My eyes narrowed at that. Here? He was here that night? No. I would remember that, surely.

"Booth?" I asked. "We didn't come here. I-I... I would remember that."

"We came here," Booth insisted softly, looking at me with a slight nod.

"We came here?" I repeated, in disbelief.

Looking away again, he answered, "Yes."

"I left, but you followed," I said.

"Yes," he repeated.

"And, then what happened?"

Again, Booth had averted his eyes from mine. He was flushing a deeper red, and this time I felt fairly certain it wasn't from the alcohol consumption.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"What happened?"

He remained quiet again, still embarrassed. What was he embarrassed about? What was there to remember that he *could* be embarrassed about? What was it that I wasn't remembering?

I stared at him... sitting on the couch. I tried comparing the two images of him... the one from that night with how he looked now. He had been wearing a black button-down shirt that night. I remember that. Not like now. Now, his black leather jacket lay tossed on the back of the couch, and Booth sat on the edge of the couch wearing jeans and a t-shirt. But, that night... there was a black button-down shirt. He had been wearing that black button-down dress shirt.

Buttons.

The image bounced into my conscious mind like a tennis ball hurtling onto my side of the court.

Buttons... buttons... buttons.

Too many buttons. I couldn't get them undone. It was taking too long. Why did the shirt have so many goddamn buttons? And, then... buttons flying. Black buttons flying as I ripped them, the image flashed in my mind. The flash made me wince. My eyes closed in frustration. What was I remembering? What had happened?

Buttons... skin... oh, God... his skin. It was warm, so warm... and... on top of him. *I* was on top of him? Oh, God-

"Booth?" My tone was wavering slightly.

"Yes, Bones?"

"Did we… something happen between us when we came back here?"

A beat of silence was followed by a simple answer. "Yes."

Oh, God. Warm, and skin, and I was on top... on top of him? I was on top of Booth?"

My voice faltered again as I asked the question that I knew needed to be asked. "Booth?"

"Yes, Bones?"

"Did... d-did we have sex that night?"

I searched my mind, silently begging my recall to free from the confines of my long-term memories whatever pieces it would at last surrender to me. Closing my eyes, I shook my head. They weren't fully formed, logical rational memories that were coming to the surface, per se… but flashes? Maybe that's the closest thing to it that I can use to describe them. Flashes?

Blackness. No… it wasn't black, but it was dark. And… cold, it was cold in the apartment because no one had been home all day, and I had left the A/C on accidentally at a much lower temperature than I usually did. We stumbled into the apartment. The keys... why wouldn't they open the goddamn door. I needed to get inside, wanted to be inside. If I could just get inside, I could get at him. But, not here. Not in the hallway. He was behind me, pressing up against my back. God, he was warm. And, hands. His hands were everywhere. The keys... I dropped them once. I had to struggle to get the keys from the floor as he kissed me. Booth? Booth was kissing my neck? Had to get inside. The keys... finally! Finally, I opened the door... and stumbled. We stumbled inside. I went first, and he followed. When did he start following me? And… the couch. He was lying on his back... and I was pulling at his shirt... and there was something. Something on the couch. Me on him... on the couch.

"The couch?" I asked, looking at him. "Here? On the couch?" He was still silent. "Booth!"

Finally, his head snapped back, and Booth insisted, "We didn't have sex that night."

"I remember," I shook my head. "I remember... I was on top of you... here."

His flush deepened. "Yes," he confirmed.

Oh, God... the dreams. The dreams... they... t-t-they weren't-

"What did I do?" I whispered, the shock evident in my voice. "What did we do?" I pressed.

"We didn't have sex that night... per se… but yes… we were on the couch… this couch," Booth said vaguely. "We were together on this couch that night."

My face wrinkled in annoyance and confusion. "And, we didn't have sex that night… per se? What the fuck does that mean?"

Booth sighed. "We… stopped… before… we… had actual intercourse." He was still looking away from me, but then his head turned back to gaze at me as he added, "But—"

"But?" I prodded.

"But… it stopped just short," Booth said at last.

Again, another flash. Hands...my hands? Or... no, not my hands. His hands... and my jeans... writhing... dark eyes. I remember what his eyes looked like. How could I have forgotten that? How? Oh, God, his eyes were dark. His face...

Suddenly, the dreams... I remembered every detail of the dreams. And, now, like a wave of mist had been blown away, I saw him clearly for the first time. My dreams... no, not dreams. Memories. They were memories, and I remembered... Booth... me on top of him, him on top of me... touching, tasting, pulling, pushing. It was him. Goddamn it! It was him, and... why hadn't I remembered?

Why... WHY? WHY?

Booth watched me for a moment. He saw my head shaking slightly. "Do... do you remember now?"

Fuck… how… why? How?

I closed my eyes, again, trying to recall something… anything. But, there wasn't. It was just at the edge. I couldn't get a firm grip. God, I... why?

"I... yes. I think so... I... but, I'm not certain. I'm not sure. You... you need to tell me. What do you remember?"

He was looking away again. "I… like I said… it's a bit vague, Bones. There are pieces… chunks. Lots of space in between, but—"

"But?"

"But… I know we stopped."

"Stopped?" I asked softly.

No, no... we hadn't stopped.

Anger, oh God... the anger flashed in my head. Why was I doing this? Why *did* I do this?

Another flash... hands... this time, my hands, not his. Hands... and his belt buckle. How... oh, God. His belt buckle... and... and boxers. He was wearing blue plaid boxers.

"We didn't stop," I murmured.

Looking at me, he could tell I was remembering. Grabbing my hand, he said, "Yes, we did." I looked up at him. "I remember, Booth... God, you were wearing blue plaid boxers." I closed my eyes tightly, grabbed onto the image firmly, and then I saw it. Yes, it was there. His boxers. They were blue plaid that night. Snapping open, I looked at him directly, and said, "You were wearing blue plaid boxers that night, weren't you?"

Flushing, Booth merely nodded.

"Fuck-" I sighed. "What did we do?"

He looked away, again, but then said, "We... I... I can't deny we did do a lot of things that night, but I'm not lying when I tell you that we... we didn't have intercourse." He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. Firmly looking at me, the doubt obvious on my face, Booth repeated his earlier words. "We *did* stop, Bones... but…"

"But?" I prompted weakly.

"But, we had made a fair bit of progress in that direction before we did," Booth admitted at last.

Silence weighed down on us for a minute before a thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Was it you or me?" I asked.

"What?" he responded in confusion.

"Was it you or me? Who stopped it? You or me?" I asked again.

Booth shook his head. "I don't know… I think… maybe... both of us?"

Another flash... me pushing off of him... him rolling away to face the wall. And, anger... and regret... not regret at the act... but... oh, God.

"I wanted to hurt you," I choked. "I... I was going to do it. I wanted to hurt you, and I knew if we did it... did *that*... if I could push us into doing that... I would be punishing you. You... I thought, if it kept going, and you used me, it would hurt you the next morning... that's why, why I kept going. I wanted to finally, clearly and without a doubt, be able to accuse you of something unforgivable. I wanted to get you out of my head... and out of my heart. I wanted... I wanted you gone. I just... wanted to stop obsessing about you... about what happened. I wanted you to just be gone. I wanted you away, and oh, God..."

Quiet for a moment, Booth said, "I was so angry that night. So angry. Not just at Hannah... at all women. And, you were a woman, and you were there, and you wouldn't go away. I kept thinking, at some point, you'd finally back down and leave. But, you didn't, and when you didn't, it just made me even more pissed off. So, you were there and were going... and I wanted to take... you. I wanted to take you, take from you, because... you... you've taken so much over the years... that's what you do, Bones... you take. You give, too... and... before... everything... I didn't mind letting you take, because it wasn't really taking when I wanted to give it to you, but that night... all I could think was that... you... y-you take. And, that night... I wanted to take something. You were there, and you kept... you just kept pushing. And, you were there, and I wanted to take something from you... I wanted to use you."

Again, silence weighed over the pair. "But, we stopped," I said at last.

There it was... another flash. Him leaning over me, both of us breathing heavily, flushed with the release of the orgasms brought on by the acts that constituted how far we had gone. And, a look. There was a look in his eyes as Booth looked at me, and I looked at him, and we had to chose whether to proceed or not. There was a look, and suddenly, he turned and I turned... and we went no further.

"Yeah, we stopped," Booth conceded. "I don't know why you did-"

"I couldn't," I said. "I was torn... conflicted. I couldn't go through with it... doing that to you. I... just wanted it to be over. I... what we had done already... I... even after everything that had happened, I realized I had started to respond to you. And, not just in a physical sense. And... I started to realize that even though I'd just spent the past four months trying to cut you out of my life, sever all my emotional ties to you... some remnant of the connection was still there. And, I was so scared, and frustrated, and panicked. And, then, I just I wanted to let you go and realized that no matter how hard I had tried, I still hadn't."

"I-" Booth said. "I... when you stopped... it was almost at the same time I did... I... couldn't use you like that. I... it was you, and I couldn't go any further."

"Further?" I was getting frustrated. He knew something. He knew more than I did, or at least he thought he did. Booth knew something more than what he was telling me because he still didn't think I had remembered as much as I actually had. Would he really keep that from me? Would he? I had to know.

"Further than what?" I asked.

"You don't remember?" he asked.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and then began to speak. "There's something there... there's flashes. I know I was on top of you... your belt buckle... and the boxers... and then, I remember rolling away from you. I was sweaty... and my heart... God, it was pounding so hard."

"Look," Booth said. "The next morning, I woke up sitting down in the lobby. I… I know we didn't have sexual intercourse… but… there are these flashes… images… like I said… we came close."

"How close?"

"Close," he said softly.

"Booth!"

At this, his head shot up. "What do you want me to say, Bones? You need a play-by-play description?"

I looked away, and swallowed once. "Tell me."

Booth sighed. He ran his hand through his hair again. "You were angry. I was angry. We were both drunk. The next morning… some of the buttons on my shirt were missing."

He stopped, and my head shot up. Buttons. I knew it... buttons, and the belt buckle, and his boxers... and... hands... both of us touching... and jeans. Oh, God... my jeans... and release. Fast... frenzied... angry... release.

A cry... I remembered that... a cry. But, as it his or mine. Or, both?

"Booth?"

He looked away again. I sighed, and then said, "Look, I know this is embarrassing for you-"

"I'm not embarrassed about what happened," Booth said honestly. "Just... how and why... but not what or whom."

"Okay," Brennan said. "But, even still... I need to know... I've got these... images. You have to tell me what I'm seeing... There was... skin, and hands, and a cry, Booth. It wasn't a cry of pain, it was a cry of release. What am I remembering? Was it you... or me?"

After a minute, he said, "Both."

I swallowed once. Of course. In the dream... no, not dreams. In the memories I had... of course, it had been both of us. Still, I needed to hear him say it.

"And?"

"I know this is a fairly stupid question for me to ask, but you don't know what third base means, do you?" he asked quietly.

Now, I was getting pissed. Not so much at him… but at myself. How… how could I have done this? And, then on top of everything, not fucking remembered? How?

"Digital or oral?" I asked bluntly. The truth, I needed the truth, and I needed him to tell me the truth, and I was in no mood for anything else.

"The first… for you… for me… the second… I think," he said. "Like I said… there are some rather large gaps…."

At this, I started to feel tears prick my eyes. I was not drunk enough for this. I really, really wasn't. I reached for the vodka bottle again and took another drink.

Booth watched me in silence. I was shaking my head when his question came.

"What?"

"I am just so over this," I said. A lump had formed in my throat. "I am so over… all of this," I nodded firmly. My brain... even my own brain had finally betrayed me. *How* could I have not remembered?

"Bones—"

"No," I cut him off. Somewhat surprising myself, I reached out and grabbed his hand. Holding it to my chest, just above my heart, I nodded, "Do you feel that?"

"Yes," he admitted quietly.

I nodded. "Do you remember that night I told you there was nothing left? Well, it's true. My heart… you feel it beating? It's doing so merely out of habit. There's nothing left. If I can't even trust my own goddamn brain to tell me the truth, then I have nothing left. And, I am so fucking over it."

"I feel it beating, Bones," Booth said. "And, I think you're wrong. Because, what I feel here? It's still beating… steady, strong, warm, and *alive*."

I shook my head, tightening my clasp over the hand that was pressed to my chest. "You're wrong. And… I am so tired of all of this. I mean, what type of person am I? To let something like that happen?"

"Well, then what type of person does that make me? I was right there with you," Booth said.

"But, you pulled away," I pointed out.

"So did you," he countered.

"I was just so angry," I said at last. "I was so sick of having all this pent up indignant rage at you. I wanted to make you feel as badly as you had made me feel."

"And, I... I wanted to get back at you. I wanted to... I mean, you were there. You were finally there. Before, it was like one day, everything was fine between us and then you showed up that afternoon, and just... you made me do that. And, I didn't want to... it wasn't fair, what you made me do. Out of the blue, no chance to explain... six years, Bones. Six years, and you just acted so unilaterally. I couldn't even say one word in explanation let alone mount a defense. You acted as judge, jury, and executioner," Booth said.

I swallowed. "I did it... because you made me," I told him. "I didn't know what else to do. You had told her... and didn't even give me any warning. How could you do that?"

Looking up at her, he said softly, "It's a fair question, and I'll answer it, I promise. But, first, I need you to answer a question."

"What?"

"When you were with Wendall, did you ever tell him anything about me... about us, things that had happened between us?"

I flushed at that, this time embarrassed myself. I was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because," I said. "I was with him, not with you. I owed him my first allegiance."

Booth nodded. "So, you understand then?"

I swallowed the knot that had formed in my throat again, and then nodded. "I... I can see why you would say that. But, there's just one big difference between what I told Wendall and what you told Hannah, Booth."

He was quiet, didn't say anything, but waited for me to continue.

"I... when I told him, you weren't in my life. You... I had made my choice. Okay, maybe that's not completely fair. You compelled me to make a choice, but when I was with him, I wasn't trying to have the best of both worlds. I was with him, and I was with him completely. And, that's not something you did. When you were with Hannah, you... you never chose, Booth."

"I loved her," Booth said. "I loved her. I had a right to love her. She made me happy. And, I did nothing wrong in that."

"No," I conceded. "But, you did do something wrong in not letting me go... not completely. And, that's why it was wrong when you told Hannah what you did. You told her because you felt guilty... and scared, I think."

"Scared?" he said. "Of what?"

"Of me," I said. "I think... I don't know... I just... you shouldn't have done that."

"It hurt you," Booth said.

I nodded. "Yes. Badly."

"I-I... never wanted to hurt you," Booth said. "I'm sorry... for that. God, Bones, the last thing I wanted to do was ever hurt you."

"I know," I admitted. "*Now.* I know that now... that's the reason why you stopped that night, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he said. "I... I was so pissed at myself. After everything that had happened, after everything you'd done to me... and there I was... you were looking up at me with that look... you have a look, by the way, just after... and your eyes were so dark, so blue, and I remembered feeling... sick. I... I saw you looking at me, and it was a look I'd wanted you to look at me with forever... but, when you finally did. It wasn't right. It wasn't how it was supposed to be, and I got sick... and I knew then. I still cared about you, like I had said earlier. I still loved you then... otherwise... *otherwise* I wouldn't have felt so guilty, I think, about how things were happening."

At this, I sighed. So fucked up, things were so, so fucked up.

He looked at me for a moment, and then said, "Bones, I... want to make this better... will you let me?"

I shrugged. "You're still here, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Booth acknowledged. "And, I'm still a bit confused by that. I thought you'd be more... angry about this."

"I can't do that anymore," I said immediately. "I just... I don't have any more fight in me. I told you that. I can't fight both you and Wendall at the same time. I made that choice a long time ago. I can either fight one of you, but not both, not at the same time. And, I guess, in a way... you won that one because you're here right now, and he's not."

"What can I do?" Booth asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know. I... I don't know. I know you want to make things better, I know I want to make this better, too," I said. "But, with everything today... I just don't know if I have it in me to do what I would need to do to make it better with you. What can we do? I just... I don't know. I don't know if I ever will. All I do know is that I want-"

Booth stopped for a moment and said, "What do you want?"

"I want…"

"What?"

"I told you what I want. I want to stop feeling sad… so fucking sad. There's so much anger and pain and regret and sorrow… I'm sick of all of it. It's all I've felt for so long I don't think there's anything else left for me to feel. So, you know what, Booth? That's what I want. I want to feel something other than all those horrible, negative things that keep knocking me down every time I set myself up right. I... I've felt a lot of negative stuff recently... and this... it's just too much. It's not fair, and I... it's got to balance out. I need the negativity to balance out with everything else. That's what I want... but, I don't know how to make that happen even if I'm strong enough to actually go through with it," I finished.

Booth was quiet for a moment before he grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. God, he was warm. So warm... and the warmth, it wasn't negative, right? It was warm, and he was warm, and I suddenly felt a type of lightheaded giddiness fall over me. Warm... I wanted to be warm. I was so tired of the cold.

"You are so warm," I murmured as he held me, my cheek pressed against the crook of his shoulder. "It's so cold, and you're so warm."

"You're warm too," he said quietly. "And, much, much stronger than you give yourself credit for..."

"I don't feel strong," I said. "I feel cold and weak and exhausted. No, not exhausted. Fatigued. I feel so worn out over... everything." I stopped and then pressed my cheek against him again as I said, "But, you're here... and you feel warm... and strong. So warm."

I couldn't help myself as I nuzzled his neck. I didn't want to say no. It was illogical, over-emotional, and, as I said, probably not the best of ideas at the time given what had happened to me, to him, to us... *between* us. But, I was selfish, and the numbness had started to cloud my brain again in euphoric liberation. or maybe he was just so warm... and the warmth felt so good. I nuzzled his neck again, and felt his muscle tense a bit as he remained perfectly still.

"Warm," I murmured again. "So warm."

Despite my claims about the state of his current body temperature, I felt him shiver as I continued pressing my cheek to his neck. And, then suddenly he moved just a little bit - and I moved at almost the exact same time, and slightly, just ever so slightly, suddenly to was no longer my cheek that was nuzzling his neck, but my lips.

-TBC-