Hold Your Breath As The Silence Screams
There was silence on the line, nothing but the soft breathing of another living soul listening to his words as he waited for a response. Three in the morning, the phone had buzzed on his bedside table. He didn't need to look at the name on the screen, he simply knew and he waited.
"Bones?" His voice whispered, glancing to the woman sleeping beside him, she was sleeping soundly, but his concern wasn't for her, it was for the person on the other end of the line.
She didn't answer this time, the first time she had dialed his number at this time since they had returned from their separate journeys. He thought that the phone calls would stop, he thought that the time apart had erased the demons or at least tamed them. He thought he wouldn't hear from her since Hannah had moved into his apartment, since he shared his bed with another woman. He thought that, but he knew better. Bones wasn't calling for pleasure, she was calling for comfort.
"You have to talk to me, Bones." He whispered, but as soon as he spoke those words, the line went dead.
He contemplated calling her back. He contemplated it for a moment and knew that if he tried, she wouldn't answer the phone. If she wanted him, she'd call him.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his mind moving methodically through different scenarios. The time on the clock reminded him time and again what she was calling for, he knew her reasons, it was always the same reason, and always the same time. It didn't make him feel much better.
He rolled onto his side, staring at the phone on the side table, he waited for it to ring again, waited for her bravery, or her fear, whichever was what made her call at that time. He stared at the phone until his eyes flickered shut, not to open again until the alarm jarred him awake.
The next day when he walked into her office, she spoke nothing of the phone call, acting the same as she always did when she would call him in the middle of the night. They never spoke of their late night conversations, and he never pushed her.
She looked tired and ragged, she looked exhausted. He said her name twice before she looked up, and even then it took her a second or two to acknowledge that he was standing there. She said nothing when he announced they had a case, simply stood up and grabbed her bag as she followed him to the SUV.
The only conversation that filled the air from the moment he entered her office until he dropped her off at the lab, was work related. There was no banter, no arguing, and no exclamations of confusion over what something meant. She pulled open her door when he pulled up to the Jeffersonian and she reached for the handle, stopping the moment his hand touched hers. She turned sharply, her eyebrow rising questionably. She said nothing, and he responded in the same manner, the words that she spoke with his eyes expressed that she was not going to discuss it. He let her hand slide from his and she moved from the car. "I'll call you when we find something." Her voice whispered, he nodded and before he could even think of something to say, the door was closed and her back was turned to him as she walked toward the lab.
He was suddenly ripped from his reverie when his phone rang, and he lifted it to his ear. It was Hannah, solidifying their plans for dinner. He agreed to meet her that evening at Founding Fathers, and she could sense the tension in his voice. She attempted to force his feelings through the line, but he resisted, only telling her that he'd discuss it later, suitably dropping it before he announced that he had to go. He hung up his phone and lingered for a moment longer, his eyes staring at the door to the Jeffersonian before he slowly pulled the SUV into drive, and continued back to the Hoover building.