Title: Can't Live it Down
Summary: It wasn't a reason, it was an excuse. And a lie.
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Booth/Brennan
Series: Long Trip Alone, part 8/11 (Only need to have read parts 6 'Trying to Stop Your Leaving' & 7 'Long Trip Alone')
Length: 1,700 words
Genres: angst, romance, fluff
A/N: I made you wait an extra day! Don't kill me! Shopping (gack), a rodeo (yay!), and a horse show took away the majority of my free time yesterday and earlier today. But, you know, I still got this written fast, so yay! And yes, this one is ANGSTY too, because I can't help it, but it gets fluffy towards the end, so it's all good. Enjoy. Oh, and also un-betaed, so all mistakes are totally mine.
Can't Live it Down
(Long Trip Alone, part 8)
Brennan blinked for a moment, still stunned by Booth's mere presence—he'd come all the way to Africa after her! "Uh, yeah, sure," she automatically answered, stepping back to allow him entrance into her hotel room.
Without hesitation, he brushed past her into the room.
She, however, hesitated briefly before closing the door and at least temporarily sealing her in alone with him. Turning to Booth warily, she folded her arms. "How did you find me?" she asked.
He smiled lightly. "I work for the FBI, Bones. It isn't that hard," he said. He paused, and his eyes traveled quickly around the hotel room, taking everything in. Then he exhaled a short sigh and added, "Plus I've been looking for you for a while. Over a week." He chuckled. "To be honest, I actually wound up out in that middle of nowhere tribe looking for you… only to be told you'd already left."
Brennan had to admit that the thought of Booth on the savanna with a primitive African tribe was pretty funny, but she tried not to think of that.
She cleared her throat. "How'd you get time off to fly all the way out here to Africa?" Best that she start with the easier, shallower questions first. That way she had that much more time to steel herself for the inevitable argument that was coming.
"I took a few days of personal leave," he said distantly.
Even though he kept the light, friendly smile on his face, she could see in his eyes that he knew what she was doing. And he was silently asking her not to do it—not to put off the questions that she had in her head. He wanted her to ask.
Caving in, she sighed. "Why are you here?" she asked. She could hear the weariness in her own voice.
All semblance of light happiness faded from his face to be replaced by solemnity. "I think you know why I'm here, Temperance," he said softly.
Her heart raced and her mind leapt back to that dream and to all of her carefully hidden doubts. She wiped her sweaty palms on her sleeves. "I don't want to go back to DC yet," she lied. "My job here isn't finished yet. I still have to—"
"I didn't ask you to come back to work, Bones," he interrupted sharply yet quietly.
Reflexively, she clenched her folded arms tighter. She was putting finger-shaped imprints on her upper arms, she knew, but she couldn't loosen her grip. "Then what are you asking?" She was afraid of his answer.
"I'm asking you to come home, Tempe," he replied, his voice soft and melancholy, yet also challenging, like he dared her to say no. "Not to come home to DC, Temperance, but to come home to me."
Her breath caught in her chest and she was overcome by the desire to do exactly that. To run right back into his arms and to forget all the risks and forget all she'd done to push him away.
But she overcame that desire with a sudden surge of willpower. And she realized that somehow, she was already losing this battle. She had to do something quick. "You're not home to me anymore," she said sharply.
The words sought out their target and detonated against it like a missile. Booth looked as though Brennan had just plunged a well-sharpened knife into his heart—which, metaphorically speaking, she probably had.
"Temperance." He choked out her name in a pain-filled tone as his eyes reflected the same agony. "Don't tell me you don't feel anything at all for me."
She didn't answer. She couldn't.
"Temperance, why did you leave?" he asked, the pain that remained in his voice quickly breaking her heart as well. He took a single step closer, and she took one away, keeping the distance the same. He painfully accepted that. "What did I do?" he demanded. "What could I possibly have done that hurt you this bad?"
Her throat tightened. "You didn't do anything." That was at least the truth—he hadn't done anything. "I told you, things just weren't working out." That, on the other hand, was a complete lie. She told it smoothly. "Some people just aren't compatible."
For a moment, he blinked dumbly, and seemed at a loss for words. He recovered his voice rather quickly. "That's a lie. And it's not a reason, Temperance. It's an excuse."
His words pierced through all the shields she'd erected, causing her to flinch—and for her mask to slip. She recovered it as quickly as she could, but she already knew it was too late. He'd seen it. Understanding and realization dawned on his face.
Damn his ability to read people that well, she thought.
"It's not an excuse, it's a perfectly logical and acceptable reason," she tried. It was no use. She could hear her own careful control over her voice break, and even to her the words sounded like a lie.
He studied her carefully, as he did when he was interrogating suspects. "You're scared." There was no questioning in his tone; he stated it as a clear fact. "So you're running away. What're you scared of?"
Knowing he'd seen right through her mask now, she panicked. Her worst fears about this meeting were coming true—that her reasoning was going to crumble, and she was going to run right back to him.
She blinked at the unexpected tears in her eyes, and Booth was suddenly there, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He enveloped her in almost every sense—she could feel him, smell him, see him, hear his heartbeat close to her ear—she only lacked the taste of his kisses, and she wanted that too.
The desire welling up inside her was just too much for her to bear, but she pressed her head hard against his chest so she couldn't see his face, hoping that'd help still her racing heart.
She still wanted him, still loved him, no matter how she'd tried to stop it. I can't let this happen! her mind screamed at her. She couldn't let herself slip now, because she'd inevitably get hurt, and then where would she be? But I'm already hurting by trying to tear myself away from him! another part of her mind yelled at her.
Broken-spirited and torn, her tears intensified and she couldn't stop them.
"Shh," he whispered soothingly. "I'm here."
The words struck her oddly, and her thoughts fled back to her nightmare... She managed to control the sobs enough to regain her voice. "That's the problem," she said bitterly. "You're here now, but…" She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
Drawing back so that they were at half an arm's length from one another, Booth frowned down at her. "What?" he asked. When she didn't answer—the explanation stuck in her throat in her last-ditch attempt to salvage the situation—his voice dropped down to a solemn whisper. "What's got you so scared, Temperance?"
The last of her resolve crumbled, and she looked down at the floor, too ashamed and broken to meet his gaze. The tears welled up again and it was hard to talk again, but she went on brokenly, "You got shot…"
"Oh, Tempe…" he said softly. He had guessed. She knew that now he knew.
She went on explaining it anyway. It gave her solace. "And I realized the danger—the risk. I had a dream that you didn't have the vest, and that it got to you." She looked up to meet his gaze, though tears distorted her vision, and, she saw, his too. "I watched you die, Seeley, and it scared me to death."
Pulling her to him again, he held on even tighter and tucked her head beneath his chin. She could tell he was crying too, silently. Then he sighed deeply. "I'm not going anywhere, Tempe," he whispered. "I'm not going to die any time soon."
She pulled back and looked up at him. "But you could," she insisted. "With your job, it's very likely that you could die and leave me all alone. I couldn't live that down: going on knowing you were dead."
His eyebrows raised slightly. "Do you realize with the kind of high-profile cases you work, it's just as likely you could die and leave me all alone, Bones? Running isn't going to solve that at all."
"But aren't you scared about the possibility?" she asked.
He nodded. "I'm scared as hell every day that something might happen to you, Bones. But there isn't really anything I can do to stop something happening when I'm not there, and I've had to accept that."
"But the risk…"
"Inside, underneath it all, I'm still a gambler, Bones," he said, pulling her to him again. This time, she didn't pull back. She didn't want to anymore. "I like to take the risks—to beat the odds. And to me, that risk is only an incentive to love you harder in the time we do have. Because if you were to die and you didn't know that I loved you, I wouldn't be able to live that down." He paused, then asked, "Could you do that too, Temperance? Could you live in the face of the odds and love despite them?"
She took a deep breath. That actually made sense, and, she had to admit, even though she wasn't one for feelings, it felt… right. Considering she didn't believe in the afterlife, but that this life was all she'd ever have, it made sense that she should try and do what she could with it.
Lifting her head, she looked him in the eye and nodded. "Okay, yes," she said softly. "I think I can do that." She smiled and brushed a soft kiss on his lips. "You'll have to help me with it, though."
He grinned. "Yeah, I think I can do that." His grin slowly faded to a small smile. "So," he asked, "does this mean that you are ready to come home?"
Tightening her hug around him, she brought her face closer to his as she smiled. "I'm already there."
TBC in part 9, That Don't Make It Easy Lovin Me
Please review if you enjoyed this, and are no longer wanting to throw things at me. :D