A/N: This is my first time writing fanfiction for Bones. Be kind, that's all I ask. If you saw 'Aliens in a Spaceship', then you see what a terrible waste the rescue scene was. To me, it fell horribly short. So, this is my interpretation of what I would have like to have seen happen between Booth and Bones. Yes, it's rated M. And to me, this was inevitable.
He'd brought her home after a grueling afternoon of questioning by the FBI and local law enforcement. Did she see anything, hear anything? What happened after she was attacked with the taser? Booth found the line of questioning completely pointless and tried repeatedly to get her out of there and back home, where she belonged. But Bones had persisted, saying she wanted to get this over with while the details were still fresh in her mind. So, he'd brought her a cup of that horrible sludge his department had called 'coffee' and stood in the corner of the room as she warmed her hands on the Styrofoam cup. She never made eye contact with the agent questioning her. She never let her weakness show through until she was alone with him. She was quiet as he drove her home, opting to look out the open window, opting to haul fresh air into her lungs. He hadn't spoken until they were standing in front of her door. She searched for her keys and tried to get the correct one in the lock. After two attempts, she looked up at him with tear filled eyes.
Booth reached out and touched her face. "You don't have to be strong for me."
"No, but I need to maintain a level head. I need to be able move on from this," she rationalized. She was always rationalizing, always looking for an explanation for things that had defied her logic.
He crooked a finger under her chin so she could look into his eyes. "You don't have to move on from this. You almost died." And I would have lost you, he thought. Driving up to that pit, and seeing the vast amount of area they would have to cover with no time left on the clock, made his heart stop in his chest. She could have been anywhere, and all Booth could think of was how much he had failed her. And then, he'd seen that puff of smoke. He had to get to her. He had to find her and make sure she was all right. He didn't think as he slid down that embankment and sprinted for the smoke. And somewhere between digging through the sand to find her, and pulling her out, he'd said a prayer. A prayer of thanks.
She looked away trying to get a grip on her thoughts. She was alone when she was in the parking garage, and the gravedigger had gotten to her. He'd been smart enough to drive right into the secure lot and grab her. Surely, he was smart enough to know that she had survived and her ransom would never be paid? Suddenly it felt as if she'd been doused with ice water. What if he knew she got out alive? What if he was watching this very moment? What if he was planning another grave for her, only this time she wouldn't be able to escape? She began to shake; there was no other explanation other than fear. Fear that she was going to die if Booth decided to leave her alone. She looked up at him just then. "Can you stay… stay with me, for a little while?"
He took the keys from her shaking hands and pushed the correct one in the lock. He didn't answer as he guided her into her home and secured the door behind them. "Go get comfortable, I'll make you some tea," he answered. She didn't have to ask for his response to her request. She watched as he shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie. She didn't move. He came to stand in front of her and spoke gently. "Go on. I'm not going anywhere." She nodded once and walked slowly to her bedroom.
She took a shower, washing the dirt, grime, and blood from her hands and body. She was so cold; she turned to water as hot as it could go. She washed her hair slowly and when she could no longer keep the tears from escaping her, she slowly sank to her knees and sobbed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard him enter the bathroom. She didn't care that she was in such a bare state, both mentally and physically. All she could feel was the oversized towel he'd wrapped around her. She shivered in his arms. He'd taken another towel and dried her hair, then took her robe and slipped it around her shoulders, and when she was completely covered, he removed the towel he'd procured for her earlier, opting to use it to dry off her wet skin.
He'd turned and pulled the covers down on her bed, urging her to move beneath them. "Come on," he gently pushed on her shoulders and she moved, hesitantly. It wasn't until he'd pulled the covers over her that she realized he was going to leave her alone again.
"Booth?" She didn't recognize the voice that called out to him. It didn't sound like her. That voice was raw and scared. She wasn't an emotional woman. She wasn't a scared woman. She knew how to defend herself; she knew how to keep an emotional distance. And yet somehow she'd almost managed to get herself killed and now was on the verge of an emotional collapse.
He turned when he heard her voice and saw her brow furrowed in fear and consternation. "I'm going to get your tea."
She shook her head and sat up, holding onto his arm. "Stay." Her command was quiet.
He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead before saying, "the tea will help you rest. I'll be back in a minute."
She pulled on his arm, this time with a little more force. "No." Tears reformed in her eyes as she spoke. "Stay." Temperance watched as his hand reached out and dried her tears. "Please?"
Booth shook his head once. "I'll stay."
She turned on her side and allowed him to kick off his shoes before he lay down and curved his body around hers. She pulled his arm around her waist and felt something lurch in her stomach. He was all she had. She didn't have her parents or her brother; she didn't even have a lover she could count on. All she had was Booth.
Booth waited awhile before he heard her breathing even out. She held fast to his arm as if he were the only tether she had. He began to extricate himself from her when she stirred. He got off the bed and stood staring down at her. She'd turned where he had been and pulled the pillow he'd had under his head, closer to her body. She could have died if hadn't been for Hodgins' idea of cleansing their air. He stooped to his knees beside her bed and watched her sleep, reaching out to tuck and strand of hair behind her ear.
He'd gotten up somewhere around 1am and went to the sofa. Exhaustion from the day's events finally started to take hold of him. It wasn't until he heard a whimper in the dark that he'd been on his feet and at her bedroom door again. "Bones?" he called out in a whisper. The whimpering continued. He'd turned on the bathroom light and left the door slightly ajar to keep her from fearing he'd left her alone in the dark. It wasn't until he'd approached her bed that he saw she was still asleep, restlessly shifting under the blankets. "No," she cried. Over and over again, she said it until her hands came out in front of her as if trying to defend herself. Booth didn't hesitate as he took her shoulders and shook her slightly to rouse her.
"I'm right here. You're at home. You're ok." He repeated. He knew when she was awake, for she started to sob all over again, clutching at his shirt.
"I was scared," she cried. "I was scared."
"I know. I was scared too," he admitted. He was scared now. Bones had never sounded defeated. Hearing her voice and watching her come to terms with her ordeal, caused him to ache for her. He held her close to him, trying to be strong for her. He had to give her the strength she didn't have right now, but the truth was he couldn't pretend that he hadn't felt like his world was crashing down around him. What if he hadn't found her? What if he'd woken up tomorrow and had known he'd never see her again. "I wasn't going to lose you."
She sniffled and pulled away from him. She knew he wouldn't give up on her. That wasn't Booth. He would have walked to the ends of the earth to save her if that was what it took. She pulled him down to the pillows with her again, this time turning in his arms and tucking herself under his chin. She could hear his heartbeat thudding against her ear and feel the warmth of his body pressed against the length of hers. She'd gotten the idea to use the airbags to blow the windshield, but what if he hadn't been there to pull her out? She hadn't had enough strength to dig her way to the surface; she didn't even know how far that was. "You saved me," she whispered.
His arms tightened around her. "I told you, I wasn't going to let you go."
She turned her head and placed a kiss on the side of his neck.
He pulled away slightly. "Bones."
"I wired the explosive to the windshield and I thought I was going to die." She inhaled shakily. "I looked at Jack and I thought I was going to kill him." A sob rattled from her throat. "But then you pulled me out. You saved me." She felt his hands move along her back in a soothing motion. "And then all I could think about was how he would know I survived and what if –" she sniffled. "What if he tried to—"
"He's not coming near you again." Temperance Brennan was famous for basing all of her instincts or feelings on reason. And in this very moment, the doctor he'd come to know and respect sounded as broken as one person could get. He felt her hands move to his waist, tugging at his shirt and again, and he felt her lips against his skin. "Temperance," he started again, and this time he pulled away from her completely.
"I'm alive, Booth. Because of you, I'm alive." Tears that had filled her eyes flowed freely. She closed the gap between them, capturing his mouth with hers.
She was kissing him. Maybe it was her way of coping, maybe she was showing him gratitude, but he couldn't allow her to embarrass herself. He knew without a doubt that she would berate herself later on. Yet, in some other part of his brain, the part that thought about her constantly, the part that yearned to touch her skin and feel her in his arms, was screaming at him to never let her go. But he did. "We shouldn't do this. You've been through enough for one day."
"I'm alive, Booth. I want to feel alive." Her hands moved from his waist to the buttons on his shirt. Swiftly she began to disengage the buttons. "Make me feel alive." The normal parameters of their relationship were, at times, blurred in her mind. It caused her from time to time to mentally reestablish what exactly those boundaries were. But one thing was very clear. She'd been cognizant of the fact that her heart could never be a part of it. Right now, she could rationalize her behavior as nothing more than her reaction to a traumatic event. She could reason with herself and say it was nothing more than her biological need to have something sated inside of her. However, if she were asked by someone else, just what she was doing in this very moment, the answer would have been clear. She'd stopped thinking with her head. She'd given into the needs of her body and of her heart.
Booth reached up and grasped both her hands in his, leaning forward and touching his forehead to hers. "I can't let you do this."
"You're not letting me do anything. I want this, Booth." Her voice came in a whisper at the end and he closed his eyes unwilling to see the image of her broken spirit and soul through those hypnotizing eyes. "I want you to save me." His eyes snapped open at her words. She pulled her hands free and guided his to the tie of her robe. His eyes flickered to the knot at her waist and then back to her mesmerizing gaze. "Please, Seeley." She reached out and touched the side of his face. She just wanted to feel safe. She wanted to feel like she was still in control of her life.
She knew this would change those preset boundaries between them. She knew that getting this 'personal' with Booth would undoubtedly lead to disaster between them. But he was all she had. Booth was her friend, her co-worker, her partner. She cared about him, maybe a great deal more than she should, but they had a connection with each other that she'd never shared with another man. Gently, she pulled on his neck, bringing his mouth a breath away from hers. He was hesitant. He had every right to be. She was hesitant too.
For a moment, he felt as if his world were spinning out of control. This was Bones. Bones. She was a pain in the ass, she was a brilliant scientist he'd been fortunate enough to have in his life, and most of all, and this was what surprised him the most, she was the woman he couldn't get out of his head. And maybe it was his savior complex; maybe it was the fact that he felt the need to always be on her side no matter what. But try as he might, all he wanted to do was show her she wasn't alone, that she didn't have to be strong for anyone and that, yes, she could count on him to always save her. He took a deep breath and slowly pulled the knot free.
She closed her eyes for a moment when she felt his acquiescence. When she opened her blue eyes again, she was met with determined brown ones staring back. "You'll never have to ask," he said as he carefully pulled the material back and away from her body, exposing the pale, alabaster skin underneath. She shivered as he bared her to the cool air and listened as he sighed in appreciation of what he saw. Using the back of her hand, she caressed his cheek. He was so selflessly giving her what she needed. Would he ever understand?
"Booth?" She whispered his name, turning her hand to cup his cheek. He took her wrist and guided her small hand to his mouth. She watched as he placed a kiss on the inside of her palm before he moved his lips up her forearm. Slowly he approached her, starting from her neck, planting kisses along her skin until he met her jaw line. "I'll always save you." He touched his lips to hers, gently drawing her lower lip between his.
Temperance's arms wound around his neck as her body arched toward his. Her hands wandered up his muscular back and into his short hair, holding him against her. She knew he would always save her. He wouldn't give up on her; he would never give up on her. His hands were around her ribcage, warming her before they slid to her hips. She broke away from his mouth when he moved down the column of her neck, his mouth kissing along her soft skin. Her head rolled back when she felt his breath on her breast. Instinctively she arched her back giving him unrestricted access, and suddenly she was surrounded by heat and pleasure. Her breath came in quick short spurts as Booth grasped her sensitive nipple in his mouth, worrying her flesh until it pebbled in his mouth. She bit her lip when he repeated his ministrations on its twin before his mouth trailed lower to her flat stomach.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wrestled with control over his growing reaction to her. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he grappled with the idea of all this being a dream. And then it hit him. She'd almost died today. That was not a dream. He had paced and waited, he had worried and broken things, he had yelled and in the quiet solitude of his office, he'd prayed for her. No, he realized, this wasn't a dream. Having his heart pounding in his ears, feeling as if everything was coming apart at the seams, that was real. She was real, and she was alive. He pulled his mouth away from her body and grabbed her shoulders. Pulling her into a sitting position, he stared into her blue eyes as he removed the robe from her shoulders.
Temperance watched as if in slow motion as he approached her, closing the minute space between them, and kissed her. He took his time, teasing her mouth, coaxing the acquiescence he sought from her. And when he was granted that permission, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, searching, exploring, and then slowly stroked her own. And then something happened. The twisting she'd felt earlier in the pit of her stomach when he'd lain with her, had blossomed into something more. It was as if her body was slowly awakening, and it tingled from her limbs to her very core. Her hands cupped his face before they moved of their own accord to get his shirt off his body. When he'd pulled away from her mouth, she guided him back to her with a simple, whispered demand of "more." And he'd returned, granting her request and eliciting a moan from her. She'd finally slipped the last button free and pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Her hands flew to his bared skin, feeling the heat that radiated from him. She was so cold, but his warmth had started to seep through her fingertips bringing her back to life. I'll always save you.She felt the tears well in her eyes as his words echoed in her head. She had no reason to doubt his promise. And though he'd never said those words, she knew that's what it was; a promise, a vow, a pledge that he'd made to her.
Booth felt her hands move toward his waist, intent on freeing him of the restricting material of his pants. Desperately in need of air, he broke away from her mouth and moved to her collarbone. He sucked along the delicate skin there before moving to the juncture between her shoulder and neck. He bit down just hard enough for her to feel his teeth before he moved to soothe the aching spot with his tongue. She gasped and dug her short nails into his back. "Booth," she moaned quietly. If things had turned out differently, he would have had to attend her funeral. He would have had to stand there and watch them lower her back into the ground, the ground in which she'd been buried before, the ground in which she would have died. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and kissed her again. She had no idea just what it was like for him; the wondering, the hoping, the waiting, and then, the anguish, knowing that she'd run out of air. He was assaulted with thoughts of her suffocating to death; of her being tortured before she'd been buried in that car with a limited supply of air. He sat up and pulled the remaining articles of clothing from his body.
With the dim light coming from the bathroom, she could see the scars on his chest and arms. They were battle scars he wore like the soldier he was. She shivered as her fingers traced along the puckered skin of his rib cage and inhaled sharply as her eyes caught another on his shoulder. It was jagged and ugly and when she looked into his eyes, she saw a world of pain she had no idea he'd been drowning in all this time. She felt him settle himself between her legs, and when he did; she raised her head and placed a kiss on his once wounded shoulder. "I'll always save you too," she whispered back. He turned her head and fused their mouths together. She felt the tears slide from her eyes.
Booth was acutely aware of the sensation of her in his arms. Her weight, the softness of her skin, and the way she trembled against him. He inhaled her scent. He'd never been this close to her before, never drunk from her mouth, and never tasted her salty skin. He'd looked into her eyes moments before and the fear he'd seen there from the moment he'd dug her out of the earth, had dissipated. Instead, reflected back to him was sorrow. He stopped breathing for a moment when she'd touched her lips to his skin. Being a soldier was who he was. It was a fact of his life. Never had he had anyone react to that facet of him as she did.
Temperance angled her hips toward his in gentle encouragement as she felt him begin to lose himself in her. It was like a drug coursing through her veins the way he touched her, and how he kissed her. His hand descended down her body stopping at her stomach where he lightly drew the back of his fingers along her skin. In her sensitized state, she arched her back and inhaled deeply. And then his hands were on her hips sliding under her, lifting her off the bed slightly, fitting their bodies closer together. She could feel his pulsing hardness between her legs and she writhed in his arms. She didn't want to be afraid anymore. She didn't want to feel alone. "I don't want to be alone anymore," she told him.
He wasn't ready to hear those words from her. She'd always been so independent. She'd always done things her way. And it was in that very moment, he realized it was all an act. He slipped into her body with one smooth thrust and watched as her eyes closed at their connection. "I've got you," he said softly. He'd always have her. No matter what she would always have him. He used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that escaped. "You're not alone." His rhythm was slow, holding her to him as he offered her the security she needed. He felt her arms snake up his back and hold on. She was trusting him. She'd broken down and she trusted him with a side of her she'd never showed anyone else.
Images of being trapped in the car flickered through her mind. The questioning she'd endured echoed in her head. But the fear she felt in her spine and in her heart were what terrified her the most. She could have died. But she hadn't. Booth's persistence and faith in her ability to stay alive had made sure she hadn't. And now the fear wasn't what she felt. What she felt was safe. Slowly she let go of the vestiges of those feelings and focused on the man with her. She pivoted her hips and took him deeper.
Her sudden movement had surprised him as he sunk further into her slick heat. His pace increased fractionally as he tried to control his burgeoning climax. She was hurting and she was scared. It wasn't about him and his urges. It was about her and what he'd promised he'd give her. He touched his forehead to hers and leaned closer, intent on keeping his vow. His fingers threaded through the silky strands of her hair and brought her mouth back to his, thoroughly kissing her. The thrusts of his tongue moved in time with the thrusts of his hips.
The storm started to build inside her, causing her body to faintly spasm. His unrelenting tempo caused the sensations coursing through her body to coil tighter, waiting to be released. And finally, when she could no longer take the painfully pleasurable feelings, the edge she'd been walking along fell away and the storm broke, flooding her. She shook in his arms, desperately trying to hold onto the euphoria her body was experiencing. "Let it go," he gently instructed her. She cried. For the first time in two days, she cried for the one thing she'd had ripped away from her, the one thing Booth had given back to her without question. She buried her head in his shoulder and held him close.
She fell asleep long before the sun rose, wrapped in his arms. He watched her face, the smooth planes of her porcelain skin, his eyes moving to her neck where he could see the ugly wounds from the taser. His jaw clenched and suddenly the events of the day before replayed in his mind as if he were reliving them all over again. She'd been targeted by that stick bastard. He'd found her when she was vulnerable and alone. He hadn't given her a chance to defend herself.
"Dr. Brennan, did you hear anything? See anything before you were attacked." The agent asked her.
He stood in the corner of the interrogation room and watched as she stared into her cup of coffee. "I felt something standing behind me but before I could react, I… the…" she pointed to her neck, "I was out. I'm sorry I'm not much help.""You don't have to apologize. This isn't your fault," Booth explained.
Somehow, she'd managed to take the blame on her shoulders. She took responsibility for something she had no control over. He brushed her hair off her forehead and stared at her for what seemed like hours. She wasn't gone. She wasn't still buried in that quarry. She was in his arms, and she was broken. And perhaps that was the scariest part of all for him, to watch her fearlessness, her spirit, get diminished into nothing but a dull glimmer in her eyes. Gone was her wide eyed skepticism. It was replaced with tears and trepidation. He slipped from under the covers and bent to retrieve his pants. Grabbing his cell phone from his pocket, he quietly closed the door to her bedroom and placed a call.
"Yeah, it's Booth. I need Vega to meet me in my office this afternoon. I want any and all information on The Gravedigger on my desk yesterday." He waited for confirmation before closing the phone. He wasn't going to allow her to live the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. She would put on a good show that much he knew. She would pretend that she'd moved past everything, that she was well on her way to being back to normal. But when she was alone, he knew her well enough to know what would happen.
She heard the door click shut and sat up slowly. She'd managed to ruin their friendship. She'd blurred the lines of their relationship to a point beyond recognition and they would have to live with the consequences. Consequences for actions she'd set into motion with her pleas to him. Temperance pulled her knees to her chest, anchoring her wrists around her ankles. The sun was shining and she couldn't help but stare out the bright light. Putting her head down on her knees she felt her stomach flutter as she remembered the way he touched her and the way he kissed her. But he was gone now, and she supposed this was par for the course. Friendships usually didn't survive when pushed past their limits. It was an anthropological fact. Relationships often broke down after a fracture in those constraints occurred, and last night, she'd asked Booth to decimate them. So, she realized, this was how it was going to be. She'd lost him. And not just for a few weeks or a few months, but for good. She had to accept that. She didn't realize she'd been crying until the lump formed in her throat.
He pushed the door open, carefully balancing the two mugs of coffee in his hands. He saw her sitting up in bed, staring out the window. "Hey, you're awake." He hadn't any idea what he would say to her after the night before, and he was mildly surprised at his attempt being a good one. She looked up and he froze for a moment. After setting the steaming liquid down on the night table, he sat on the bed and turned her toward him. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"We… last night I…" she shuddered. "I thought you—" the words lodged in her throat. "I thought that you would resent me for what I asked you to do."
His hands gently cupped her face. "I could never resent you."
She searched for another reason to cover her tears. "Well then, you could regret what happened."
He shook his head. "I'll never regret it." He thumbed away her tears. "What's going on?"
"I just thought…I don't know what I thought." She looked away unable to meet his eyes.
"You thought I left." He watched her close her eyes and exhale slowly. "Bones," he urged her to look at him. "Look at me, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you."
"But we can't work together. Everything's changed," she rationalized. "When two people who are supposed to have a professional association with one another cross that line—"
He kissed her. She was right, everything had changed. She'd allowed him to see the side of her she'd kept guarded from everyone else. She'd trusted him enough to breakdown in front of him. She'd wanted him to put her back together again and make her feel whole. He pulled away slightly, caressing her face, "I think we crossed that professional line a long time ago."
She shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ears, "They're not going to let us work together anymore."
She'd asked him to save her, to make her feel alive. She'd needed him in a way he never thought she would. "No one is going to take you away from me," he whispered. "Never again." He closed the gap between them and felt her respond to his touch. He pushed her back against the pillows intent on showing her just how much he was unwilling to ever let her go.