Just something I needed to write down. It's only short, but it's only to distract me from another story for a bit.
Disclaimer: Still not owning.
You'll see the sun again.
She found him sitting next to his bed on the floor. Back against the bedside cabinet. The lamp on top of it had fallen over and was lying in pieces on the carpet. His jacket and tie were both on the bed and the sleeves of his dress shirt were pushed up well past his elbows.
His head was hanging and his arms were leaning on his knees.
It was the first time she'd ever found him like this and he looked so desperate that even her last little bit of good feeling after closing the case disappeared the minute she'd stepped into his bedroom.
"Booth." Her voice was barely above a whisper and filled with worry. The man on the floor barely looked up, his hair a mess, his usually warm brown eyes panicked.
"What's wrong?" She was almost afraid to ask. He'd seemed off today, but when she asked about it he dismissed her question, quickly steering onto another subject after assuring her he was fine. But she'd known this man for years and she knew that he was not fine. Not fine at all. Quietly and careful not to step on any of the things that were lying scattered across the floor, she made her way over to him. He moved slightly, away from her. His eyes focused on the carpet again.
The forensic anthropologist took off her coat and put it on the bed before sliding to the floor and sitting next to him. A heavy sigh escaped his lips and softly put her hand on his arm. He didn't move this time, knowing that she wouldn't give up.
"Nightmares." He said, his voice hoarse and barely audible.
"About your past?" She wasn't pushing, in stead her voice remained soft and gentle, not wanting him to push her away. She was surprised he was even okay with her being her. Even if Booth was always reminding her to open up about her past, he never took his own advice. She knew he'd killed people. She even knew how many, but she didn't know details. Apart from that one time when he had to shoot a boy's father back in the middle east.
"People I've killed. Bones, I'm never gonna go to Heaven this way. You're right. It's not some kind of cosmic balance sheet. I can't undo what I've done." His hands raked through his hair and he heaved another sigh. This Booth was starting to frighten her a bit. The man she knew was happy, content with the little things of the daily live. He was rarely in a bad mood.
"That's not true, Booth. The good I've seen you do far outweighs the bad that you've told me about." She caught a glimse of his socks. Plain black. His tie had been plain black as well. He wasn't having a good day at all.
"You don't know -" She cut him off, her voice raising a bit, hoping to get through to him.
"Know everything? It doesn't matter, Booth. I don't need to know everything to know you're a good man. And if someone deserves to go to heaven, then it's you. I can't think of a better person." Her hand had taken hold of his, she could feel it trembling under her fingers.
He looked up now, his eyes finding hers.
"Do you really think so?" The warm feeling that spread through her body nearly overwhelmed her when she saw the hope in his eyes. Her opinion of him was important to him, that he made clear.
"Of course. I never lie, Booth. Come on, how about a beer? Do you want me to order Chinese or Thai?"
"Pizza." Was his short reply, but it made her smile nonetheless. He was turning back into his stubborn old self.
"Good. Come on then." She got to her feet and offered him her hand. For a second he stared at it, then accepted it and allowed her to pull him to his feet.
"Pepperoni please." He told her as he followed her out of the bedroom.
He was sound asleep on the couch before the game had ended. She turned the TV off and took their empty plates to the kitchen, where she cleaned up before going back to the livingroom. In the meantime he'd shifted onto his side and was holding tightly onto the remote control. Carefully she pried the object from his finger and placed it on his coffeetable.
"Mmm-ph. Bones." His mumblings were barely distinguishable .
"Yes?" She picked up the plaid and covered his sleeping form with it carefully for she didn't have the heart to wake him up. Not when he'd just gotten comfortable.
"Don't leave. I don't want nightmares." He pulled the plaid closer around his body and settled deeper into the soft cushions of his sofa.
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
"I'm not going anywhere, Booth. Good night." She wriggled herself between the end of the couch and his feet, which he – being the gentleman he was, even when almost asleep – moved out of the way for her.
By midnight she was asleep next to him, his arm slung around her waist, holding her close.
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