Title: Alive Again
Disclaimer: These characters and the plot mentioned herein belong to someone else. I am so disgusted that they're not mine so I won't mention the name of those foul people. Okay… is it illegal? Alright, I'm skint and I can't afford to be sued so whisper Fox. Oh and, P.S. 'skint' is very Belfast. It means 'I have no money'.
Summary: Post-ep Solider in the Grave. Brennan takes the memories away.
Author's Note: I haven't seen this episode, yet. Thanks to BonesDBchippie I have read the transcript for it and I am inspired. Apologies for any inaccuracies here. I just cannot be arsed waiting for another few weeks. Strike while the iron (muse) is hot. Oh and thanks to BonesDBchippie. I don't think this story would be written, otherwise.
Rating: Oh! I almost forgot about this. Juicy M.
When I compose myself, Brennan is looking at me with the softest compassion I have ever seen. She tilts her head, blinking slowly. I am embarrassed by the sentimentality I feel. I'm plagued by my time as a Ranger and while I should be wondering whether she is appalled, I am relieved that I've voiced the hell I live in.
And I cannot imagine sharing it with anyone but her.
She slips her hand from beneath mine, blinking again. Brennan holds my gaze for a long time, her way of telling me she is not repulsed. That she can look at me and not see a brutal murderer.
Her fingers touch the base of my neck and I struggle not to be overwhelmed by the gentleness of her touch. There is so much compassion in the way she looks at me. So much sympathy. She should be telling me I am a monster. She should be asking me if I know how that little boy feels. She lost her parents, too, thanks to a murderer.
"Booth?" She shifts close, our thighs bumping. I don't answer because I'm not sure how I ought to respond to such expression of concern. Brennan is a strong, feisty, no-nonsense woman and yet she's curling her fingers in my hair, looking at me with understanding instead of disgust. I cannot comprehend how grateful I am to have here with me at this moment. "How many more people would have died? How many children, Booth?" I nod mutely. I know what she's trying to do and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to accept that what I done was just a duty. That it is no reflection on me. Perhaps I have convinced my self, mostly late at night, that it is a reflection and I am a bad person.
"We should go," I say, standing. Her hand falls away and I regret the loss. Brennan is astoundingly warm-hearted when she's not talking about science. She follows me, her eyes downcast. I find myself wondering how I can prolong our time together. There is an ache inside and I want her to stay. I want to pour my soul out to her.
I know she'd let me.
"Sid's?" She asks, slipping into my SUV. I turn the key in the ignition, my fists clenched around the steering wheel.
"I don't think I can handle it," I say. She nods, once. Her fingers fiddle with the radio for a few seconds as I drive in the general direction of DC. I have no destination. I rely on Brennan to make a decision. Does she want to go back to the Jeffersonian?
"We can go to my place. I'll make us some tea," she says and I smile. She's wonderful. She understands like no one else ever could. How does she know me so well? How does she know what I want? What I need?
Her apartment is filled with everything that is Brennan and in the same instant I catch the scent of vanilla in the air, my shoulders relax. I cannot explain why her space makes me feel the way it does. I am cocooned in her warmth and it's unlike anything I have ever experienced before.
She is barefoot, padding through the apartment, into the kitchen where cups clink together as she prepares tea. I stand against the frame, watching her. She reaches into the cupboard, her expression firm with concentration. I smile as she contemplates camomile then shakes her head, tossing reddish curls around her cheeks. She instinctively knows I would hate it.
When the tea is made, she turns to me and smiles. "I didn't see you there," she says. I am glad. I enjoy observing her. There is an ethereal quality about Brennan that I cannot put my finger on. Perhaps if I watch her for long enough I'll be able to understand why she affects me the way she does.
She passes me a cup and our hands brush. I feel her soft skin, and I wonder if my emotional state has turned me into a bubbling fool, for as I cradle the cup in my hand I can think only of how I want to take her in my arms. I think of how I want to forget the anguish that presses on my chest.
"Bones," I say, as she moves around the kitchen, putting spoons away and neatly arranging things. I know she's aware of the change in chemistry and maybe she's not altogether comfortable with it. I take a sip of tea and set the cup on the counter, stepping towards her. She turns, pressed against the edge of the sink, her fingers clutching the bench. I see how her eyes dart manically from one object to the next. When she looks at me, her breath hitches a little.
"It's alright, Bones," I say. "I know you're a little surprised by everything that's happened today-" she shakes her head, her blue eyes darkening. Within seconds her irises are like the ocean at dusk. The colour of midnight. I am captivated by the transformation.
"I'm not. I'm fine with all that," she says. "Drink your tea." I smile a little, stepping towards her. She tries to back away but she's nowhere to go. I slip my arms around her waist, pulling her against me. She feels exquisite. She's real. A person. I bury my nose in her hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her. "Booth?" She questions, tentatively patting my back. I sense her confusion and it makes me smile. Sometimes Brennan cannot accept things at face value.
"Thank you for everything," I whisper. "Your acceptance of me has been more than I could ever have imagined. Or wished for." She relaxes against me, her nose pressed against my chest. I love having her here. More than I should be allowed to admit. Having her so close ebbs all my fears away. I don't contemplate a life of solidarity when I am with Brennan because I can convince myself she'll never leave.
Especially now. Especially now she knows.
"You think about it all the time," she says. She does not question. Merely states. I nod against her head.
"All the time," I echo.
"You said that you die a little bit with every life you take." My arms tighten instinctively. "Do you think those parts of you will ever be alive again?" She asks. I shrug, my lips brushing her hair. The scent of her confuses me. I can almost believe we are meant to be like this. The feel of her in my arms is too familiar. I find it too easy to adjust. I shouldn't be so willing to touch her. "If there's anything I can do to help… just ask," she says and I cannot explain, even to myself, how my heart beats faster in response to her kindness.
"That sounds like a sexual innuendo, Bones," I quip and she chuckles.
"Maybe it is." I growl against her.
"Games, Bones, I don't do games well." Her fingers dance across my spine and I wonder if she's still comforting me or if this is something else. She hums contentedly, apparently she's no longer unnerved at our proximity. The tables have turned because my body stiffens as she continues. She has dexterous fingers that slip beneath my shirt, moving over my back. My breath shudders in my chest.
"Hmm…" she replies, her little hands moving, touching and exploring. It drives me crazy and I step back. I regret the loss immediately. "I make you nervous," she says and I shrug. "Booth… call it woman's intuition but I know you want me." I think it was less to do with intuition and more to do with the fact I am hard and I was pressed against her moments ago.
"Yes I do," I admit, vaguely wondering how tea and turned into the pre sex 'do you want me?' dance.
"So why are we standing here?" I shrug. I never imagined Brennan to be the one who would take the first step. I knew we would eventually end up here. There's a chemistry that cannot be denied. I never tried to ignore it but she did. For that reason, I am stunned when she begins to undress.
She moves towards me and takes my hand, leading me from her kitchen, through her living room and into her bedroom where she turns to the immaculately made up bed and smiles. She looks serene and I wonder how she can be so calm while my heart thumps inside my chest.
Brennan removes everything now, and when she sits on the edge of the bed, entirely naked and showing no hint of self consciousness, I can't help but wonder at the transformation. Only a few minutes ago she was clutching at the counter in her kitchen as though I was going to attack her. And I was only going in for a hug!
She looks fantastic, reclined back against the comforter, her long slim legs seemed to go on forever and her breasts tempt my eyes. I shift, painfully hard. "Bones…" I try to conjure up a warning that, if she doesn't stop, I am going to ravish her and then it will be too late.
"Come here," she demands and I am powerless to resist. She tugs on my belt and I am on top of her, the lovely length of her shifting beneath my body. Her thigh brushes my groin and I moan. She pressed her mouth to mine, needy and uninhibited. I press my hands to her shoulders, wondering if I should stop. Her legs snake around me, holding me against her.
Temperance Brennan is naked. She's naked beneath me.
Her tongue parts my lips and I sigh into her mouth. Her fingers tug at my hair and her hips thrust, grinding against me. After a few moments, she pulls on my belt and removes my pants with a dexterity I was surprised by. I feel her nimble fingers as she rips off my tie and unbuttons my shirt. I let her kiss me. I know she's trying to erase my memories and I know it will take a lot to succeed, but I let her, anyway.
I expected our first time to be slow and languid. Brennan has other ideas. When I am naked, she tilts her hips and I slip into her. Even without foreplay, she's astoundingly aroused. I could not have fathomed in a million years how good, how perfect, it would feel being inside her.
She's moaning, and her breasts move in front of my face with each upward thrust. I take her nipple in my mouth, and in response she moves harder. Faster. Her hand slips between us and I feel her finger moving in tight circles between us. She says my name. I hear her say something about me living again, completely, but I cannot comprehend what she is telling me because she is tight around me and with a single cry her walls tremble and quiver around me.
I know at this moment that we have to do this again because everything has moved so fast. I need to touch her. Again and again.
When she thrusts her hips a final time, my arousal climbs to a shuddering high and when I come it's unlike any time before. She wraps her arms around me and I sink into her embrace, breathless and sated.
"Well?" She says, her mouth at my ear.
"Well what?" I query, shifting against her.
"Did you forget?" I chuckle against her throat.
"Oh yeah. I think I could get used to this method of therapy." When she doesn't protest, I know she's happy to comply.
Final note: The 'tea' thing is reference to The X-Files "All Things". When Mulder returns from England Scully says "Come, I'll make us some tea." This is the episode where she tells him everything and were, in theory, they had sex. Oh… bliss. Sex. X-Files. Mmm…Hmm…
Anyway, thanks for reading.