AN: Hello guys! Thank you so much for continuing through this story. It'll be a ride for all of us, and I hope you enjoy! I'm not going to pressure you to review, but if you think something needs to be said, go ahead and tell me! Xo
Booth woke up and was hit hard with last night. He remembered all of it. The denial, the crying, and the case of beer. The whole case of beer. Those- those twelve cans of beer. He was angry last night but, but he didn't have to drink all the cans. He suddenly felt disgusted with himself, and sat up. Well, he tried to sit up. His head was spinning from his hangover and pains were shooting all through him. What have I done to myself? He shook his head in anger and disbelief.
He suddenly felt rage. Why did he do this? How could he do this? Shit. "Bones!" He turned his head and no one was there. Where could she be? Did I- No! I wouldn't... I couldn't... Not caring that he couldn't see straight, he bounded out of their room. He ran to Christine's and saw that she was still sound asleep. His heart lifted in his chest. Jesus, I didn't hurt her. No. I couldn't hurt her. Never. I would never... Bones. That was who was important right now. If she shut herself away already, Booth would never get her back. Funny, a memory triggered in his mind.
Booth and Cam sat at the Founding Father's, drinking themselves silly. Shot after shot, Booth finally found the courage, although it may be liquid courage, to tell Cam how he was feeling. Finally, he turned to Cam and said "All right, um. That place I went to. You know, in my coma dream, it was just- Bones and I were so real..."
"You're in love with Doctor Brennan." Cam shot out. It wasn't even a question. She knew the truth, the others knew the truth, and although she was happy that Booth wasn't blind to his feelings anymore she couldn't help but feel sad. Booth had been hers. Twice. And she lost him both times. Maybe she was just the wrong girl for him, but he was the right man for her. Hell, Booth was the right man for everyone. He was just so... Perfect. She smiled to hide her pain, and saw Booth's terrified look. She continued on, "My advice, for what it's worth, forget the bruised brain and go with the lion heart." That man did have a lion heart. When he loved, he loved with everything he had. She knew, well sort of.
The first time they had been together, Booth gave her everything she wanted. But when they had their relationship back at the lab, they kept it a secret. Neither really spoke about it, but they knew why. Well at least she knew why. He'd been in love with Brennan since the start. Yes, he may have loved Cam, but there was a time for that, and that time unfortunately, had ended. Booth's love for Brennan was obviously eternal, and for that Cam was envious of the clueless Doctor. She respected Brennan on a very high level, but seeing them dance around like this made her angry at times. If they couldn't see it now, who could be so sure that they'd see it later? She knew it was wrong, but she wanted Booth. She'd get over it, but she knew deep down inside a part of her would always love him.
After what seemed like an eternity, Cam came out of her trance and looked at Booth. Staring back at her, he said "Right. Right. Yeah, and uh, tell Bones how I feel?" It sounded more like a question than Booth had wanted it to be.
Cam smiled at his nervousness, "Yes. Except be sure about your feelings. Because if you crack that shell, and change your mind, she'll die of loneliness before she'll ever trust anyone again."
Booth looked at her sympathetically, and Cam smiled once again. She knew she was the master at hiding feelings, and she also knew she was the master at keeping company. "You'll do fine, Booth" was the last thing she said before they took another shot.
Booth shook at the memory. Brennan let him in and he betrayed her. She'd been like an egg; once cracked, everything came pouring out. It wasn't until now Booth had realized that shell hadn't cracked until recently. Only recently had she been forthcoming to him about her feelings. It hadn't started until she came back from on the run. It's funny; Booth hadn't even been with her when her shell was broken. He wondered what led her to break, because he obviously hadn't been there. When she opened up to him in the laundry room, he didn't know how to react so he instinctively kissed her. Booth couldn't believe how stupid he'd been to think he'd cracked her before. It's been too soon. She'd cracked, and not even a year later he broke her heart. The heart cannot be broken, Booth, his inner Brennan told him, you've only crushed my heart. It's okay, I'm fine. Alone. He shuddered at the newest memory.
Booth couldn't take it anymore. His still pounding head led him towards the stairs. He had to find Bones. Wobbling down the stairs, he was sure the neighbours could hear the pounding of his feet on the wood, he was so disoriented. Finally reaching the bottom, he steadied himself against the wall. After what seemed like minutes, he brought himself around the wall to look into their living room. That's when he saw her. In his chair. Booth walked up to her slowly and softly, well however soft a hungover man could walk. His first instinct was to check her face. That's where his father always struck first. He held his breath as he checked his sleeping wife's- wait she isn't my wife. "Dammit" Booth said in a whisper.
Brushing the hair out of her face, he inspected it and saw no marks. He exhaled loudly; he knew he would never hurt her. He just had to be sure... That was when he saw the glimmer. He saw the beer cans. He couldn't have Brennan knowing how much he drank. He walked over to the cans, shoving them all back into the box. The empty twelve-pack seemed unbelievably heavy in his arms. Opening the door that led into their garage, he chucked the case so that it hid behind their snow-blower. Closing the door behind him, he walked back into the living room. He looked at Brennan. She's so beautiful when she sleeping, he thought. Scratch that, she's beautiful all the time. He sat down in her chair, since she was occupying his.
Brennan was awake, but Booth didn't know. She didn't want to open her eyes, at least not yet. She'd woken when Booth collected the cans. She hadn't seen them last night, and she didn't bother to go find them. She heard him put away at least ten cans and that scared her. So she decided she didn't want to be awake just yet. She'd heard him throw the case, but she didn't know where, and really didn't want to. She heard him sit down, and focused herself on his unsteady breathing. He was breathing much like a child; short, fast breaths. This also scared Brennan.
She decided to open her eyes, and she saw his big, empty brown ones staring back at hers. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what to say. She sat up straight in her chair, removing eye contact from Booth. I'm still angry, something inside reminded her. She looked down at her feet. "Good morning" she mumbled.
"Yeah, a good one..." Booth said, still staring at her even though she looked away. He wanted nothing but to tell her, that this wasn't his fault. That this was all Pelant. That he wanted nothing more in this world but to be married to the love of his life. But he couldn't.
An alert Brennan heard the tone of his voice and knew he wanted to say something. "What?" she asked.
"Excuse me?"
"What do you want to tell me?" Brennan said, still looking at her feet.
"I'm sorry, Bones. I don't know what you're talking about."
"The tone of your voice would indicate that you have something to say to me so you might as well say it." She snapped back at him and stood up. She began to walk into their kitchen, not even bothering to look back at Booth. She was angry and she wasn't going to make this easy for him.
"Bones!" he said back to her. He wasn't going to yell. He didn't want to; he couldn't. He chased her into the kitchen and grabbed her right hand. Brennan froze in her tracks. "What do you want to say, Booth?" she said again. Booth turned her around so that she could look at him; except she wouldn't. "Bones... please?" he pleaded. Brennan stared at his shoulder. Normally in this circumstance Booth would pull her face to him, but he was afraid an action like that would be his last. He wanted to tell her so badly that he wanted her. He wanted everything about her. He wanted to prove to her how much he wanted her; but he couldn't. Suddenly Booth knew what to say. "Temperance, please?"
Brennan could hear how emotionally strained his voice was. He sounded like- he sounded like he did last night. Damn, she thought. He knew Temperance always got her. She finally looked up at him and she could see the dampness in his eyes. "Please... just don't call me that." Brennan replied.
"I'm sorry."
"No. You're not."
"Bones, how could you say that? You don't even know how I'm feeling right now!"
"If you knew you'd be sorry after telling me we shouldn't engage in marriage than you shouldn't have said anything at all, Booth!" she spat back at his face. "You shouldn't have pressured me into even thinking about the idea. You knew how much I didn't want it! And then you forced me, Booth. You forced me!" she jabbed her finger into his chest. She was done blaming Pelant, this was all Booth's fault now.
Booth just stared at her, his jaw dropped down as low as it would go. "Bones..." he was able to let out.
"No. I don't want to hear it, Booth." She unravelled herself from his embrace. She started to walk away from him when he grabbed her arms again. "Let go of me Booth or I will roundhouse kick you in the head." They both knew she wasn't lying.
Brennan darted up the stairs, running to their room. She slammed the door as hard as she could to make her anger noticed. She then ran into the bathroom and locked the door.
The slamming door obviously awoke Christine and she started crying. A shocked Booth ran up to her room and grabbed her out of the crib. Christine almost never cried, and this worried Booth. She was obviously startled, but it was like whenever something happened to Brennan she began to cry. The last time he recalled her crying was when Brennan was shot in the lab. Booth bounced her up and down and sang some nonsense to her. He was an awful singer, but it seemed to calm her down. Christine eventually looked up to her father and said nothing but "Dada."
"I'm here, baby." Booth cooed back to her. He held her close to him and decided it was probably best for him to not go ask Brennan what the hell is wrong. He brought Christine down the stairs and to the kitchen. He grabbed her bottle out of the fridge and warmed it up in the microwave. When Christine became fussy again, Booth started to bounce her up and down again warbling Hot Blooded. Christine started at her father begging for more. He didn't know why, but she liked his singing. "Well, okay..." he started, "I'm hot blooded, check it and see! I got a fever of a hundred and three. Come on baby! You can do more than dance! I'm hot blooded, hot blooded!" he sang the last 'hot blooded' a little too loud. Finally the microwave beeped and he pulled out Christine's bottle. He never understood why babies like warm milk, he tried it once, and it was awful. Putting the bottle in her hands, Christine shoved it into her mouth. Although he didn't approve of the taste, Booth always loved the sound of babies sucking on their bottles. It reminded him that they were actually here. That they weren't just imaginary, that they were really alive; that they were beings. Still bouncing Christine up and down he noticed for the first time that he was in nothing but his underwear. He slightly blushed. He was too disoriented earlier to even notice that he wasn't wearing any clothes.
Walking the two back up the stairs, Booth dared to enter his and Brennan's room. Turning the door handle, he walked in silently. He didn't see Brennan anywhere, so she must have been in the bathroom. "Bones?"
There was a pause before anything was said. "Leave, Booth." Brennan said barely above a whisper. She'd been crying. In the time she was in the bathroom her rage progressed into sadness.
"You know I'm not."
"I said get out."
"No." He rebelled. "You may be behind that door, but you can't stay there forever. When you decide to come out I'll be right here-" he paused "I'm not moving."
"My daughter needs tending to."
"Our. Our daughter. And she's in my arms."
Brennan said nothing. There was nothing to say. Actually, there was a lot to say but she didn't want to say it.
"We'll be right here when you're ready to come out."
"I know you, Booth. You'll get bored. You'll leave."
"And I know you. You'll get fidgety and need to get out of there."
"No. I'm fine in here."
"And I'm fine out here," he chuckled to himself, "I guess we don't know each other that well, do we?"
"I guess we don't." Brennan said bitterly.
After what seemed was hours, but was merely only minutes, Brennan indeed became fidgety. She twiddled her thumbs, played with her greasy hair which was in need of a clean. That's it, she thought, I'll have a shower. And that's what she did.
The shower turning on startled Booth and Christine. Booth took this time to put Christine back in her crib. He sat her down, and worked his way back to their room. He knew what he was going to do, and he knew Brennan wasn't going to like it. Booth walked up to the bathroom door and was determined to open it. It was easy to open when it was locked. Parker had locked the door by accident before, and all Booth had to do was jiggle the handle. That's exactly what he was going to do now.
Booth jiggled the handle until he heard the click and slowly opened it. Brennan obviously didn't hear him because the shower was too loud for her to notice. Booth left the door open, and Brennan felt a cold breeze. She looked through her shower curtain and saw Booth. She gasped as she saw him just standing there. "Booth..." she said breathlessly, "what- what are you doing? Get out!"
"No." Was all he said.
"Booth I don't want to talk about it, and I would greatly appreciate it if you got out." Brennan said, trying to stay calm.
"Well I want to talk about it."
"And I said I don't, so leave."
"You do. I know you do." Booth said leaning against the sink.
"Booth I am extremely uncomfortable with you being in here right now, and seeing as I don't even know how you got in here, because the door was locked, you never asked and I want you gone."
I want you gone. The words rang like gongs in Booth's head.
Brennan misinterpreted Booth's silence as a leave of absence. "Go." She repeated. To her surprise, Booth shut the lid on the toilet and sat down. "I said I wasn't leaving and I'm not" was all he could muster up.
Brennan was losing patience. "Booth I said. Get. Out."
"No."
"Yes."
"No." He crossed hi arms.
"Booth get the fuck out!"
Her rage surprised both of them. "Bones... Come on, this- this isn't rational."
"Says the man who is the least rational person on the planet." She retorted.
"Bones, I-" he paused "I'm not going to say I'm sorry because you obviously aren't accepting that, what I am going to say is that you're sorry."
She wasn't taking this. "And why would I be sorry?" she barked.
"Because you think this is your fault."
"Booth, could you be any more naive?! This is all your fault!"
Jesus, here we go. "No. That's what you're trying to tell yourself. You're telling yourself that it's my fault because you don't want to believe it's yours. And that big brain of yours isn't helping either, is it? It keeps screaming at you that you caused this and what I'm trying to tell you is that... You didn't cause this. It's not your fault, Bones. You need to believe that. And- and it's not my fault either."
Brennan stood in silence, her tears blending in with the drops of water falling on her. She still couldn't see him, and he couldn't see her. Right now she was glad Booth pushed her to getting the burgundy shower curtain. Her tears fell freely. "And Bones I know you don't want to hear it, but, it's okay to be sad. I know you're trying to be angry, but do you know what anger is? Anger is just fear being afraid of itself. It's okay to cry, and you know, it's okay to talk about your feelings."
And with that, Booth left. He'd said all he needed to, and he traced his way back to Christine's room.
But Brennan wasn't done. Not even close. She promised to herself that she wouldn't make it easy and she wouldn't. She knew exactly what she was going to say.