A/N: It's funny how these stories just write themselves sometimes. I recently saw the circus episode and I ever since I've been wondering "What happened when they shared that teeny tiny bed??" This turned out waaaaay more angsty than I had intended, but what can I say? It wrote itself...

Thank you everyone for the feedback I've been getting on my other stories lately and I hope you enjoy this one too :)

Tears streamed down her face as she clutched and pulled at the sheets in their tiny shared bed.

"Bones, Bones," Booth gently shook her shoulder which resulted in a slap to the face.

"Get away from me!"

He was stunned for a minute, having just been roused from sleep and slapped by his screaming bed partner. He shook his head clear and tried again to rouse her but she began kicking. In the small bed in the even smaller room with her martial arts skills she was able to kick at everything very expertly.

"NO! Stop!! Don't touch me!! Stop it! Stop it!"

Booth pulled her close and held her tighter the more she struggled. "Bones, Bones…shhhhh…" he cooed in her ear. "Calm down, sweetheart, it's just a dream…wake up Bones…"

"Stop…stop…" her protestations grew weaker as she began to wake up, sobbing. Booth pulled her even closer.

"You're okay, Bones," he whispered one last time. She stiffened in his arms at that utterance. Reluctantly Booth loosened his hold on her, not wanting to scare her.

"Where am I? Why are you here?? What is this place??"She began to panic again, this time awake and lucid. She scrambled as far away from him in the tiny bedroom as possible (which wasn't very far), the moonlight reflecting off of her pale and sweaty skin. Her icy blue eyes were wide with fear and shining with un-shed tears, caught between the sleeping nightmare and the strange reality(?) of waking up in Booth's arms; her eyes danced frenetically trying to assess their environment, where the dangers were. Her torturers were nowhere to be found; only the angelic face that had kept her sane.

"We're in beat-up old RV in Texas. Remember?"Booth uttered slowly and quietly, not wanting to push her over the edge. "We're undercover at a circus. We're pretending to be Buck and Wanda Moosejaw?" He gave her his classic Bones-I'm-worried-about-you look.

"A knife throwing act," She replied, back in reality again; the tears spilling from her eyes. In shame? In relief? She wasn't sure but nonetheless she buried her face in the sheets she had managed to pull from the bed.

Before her sobbing got too out of hand she felt his hand intertwine with hers and pull her into his arms. The room (if you could call it that) was small enough that he didn't even need to get up. She continued to cry, less forcefully now that he was being strong for her, surrounded by his warmth and scent.

He caressed the back of her neck, letting his fingers tangle gently with her hair and trail down her spine, and finally making little circles at her lower back. It was difficult to resist kissing her while holding her so close; it seemed to him a natural instinct as an alpha male to offer a such signs of affection when a loved one had a nightmare. When Parker had bad dreams, he would crawl into bed with Booth and he would kiss away the bad thoughts until Parker fell asleep. But Booth didn't want to push Bones. Instead, he compromised by letting his nose nuzzle the top of her head and breathed in the wonderful smell of girly shampoo, dusty bones, and Bones.

When she had calmed again she pulled away from him enough so they could look at each other.

"I'm—I'm sorry about that," She mumbled in apology "I didn't—I-"

He cut her off. "Hey, it's okay," He dared to caress her cheek lightly in reassurance. "We all have bad dreams."

"But you don't kick your…bed-mates."

"Not true," he admitted without hesitation. "I spent a week in a psychiatric hospital for PTSD; twice. It's actually why Becca and I broke up before we knew about Parker."

"Oh," Was all she could think of to say.

Booth wasn't sure he should ask, but he decided to brave the question.

"What burned?"

She stiffened as she held the breath she had half inhaled; she pressed her lips together in a thin line as everything else about her remained unchanged. This was defensive Bones. Unsurprisingly (What were you thinking, Seeley??) she moved away from him as far as she could in the tiny room and turned her back to him. Brennan's shoulders slumped as she buried her face in her hands, contemplating her next move.

As Booth was about to retract the question, she pulled her nightshirt up, exposing her alabaster-white back to him. There were nine jagged, circular brand marks randomly over her back, marring the otherwise flawless skin. Booth just stared at the torture marks caught between thoughts: Bones gets me a lot better than I give her credit for and murderous thoughts for the bastards that hurt her so much.

After so much silence Brennan, was about to lower the shirt when she felt his cool fingertips slowly trace aro

und the brands.

Answering the question in Booth's head she stated: "When I was in El Salvador, the rebel group captured me and my team for several days. I'm still unsure of what they wanted from us, but they—they—they just began torturing me and my team. We were beaten, some had their bones broken, metal pipes to the feet. These brands aren't close to the worst they did." Her voice cracked as she remembered identifying the body of one of her newer interns, a recent college graduate who had wanted to 'see the world'.

She trembled as his fingertips were replaced with his lips, Booth no longer able to contain his desire to kiss away the demons. He placed a soft kiss on each scar, sending shivers up her spine and goose bumps everywhere else. He drew his arms around her once he finished with the scars and continued kissing slow, soft kisses up her spine to the nape of her neck and nuzzled her ear. They both sighed in content.

Together they sank back into the pillows, drawing what they could find of the bedclothes around them in a cocoon.

"Let's get some sleep Bones," He whispered in her ear, and then pressed a soft kiss behind it. "I gotta throw knives at you tomorrow, remember."

"How could I forget…"They both chuckled as she intertwined their hands and lightly kissed his thumb.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. Too bad there isn't an easy and convenient way to give an author feedback of his/her performance...What a shame ;)

Fyi, it's totally awesome that I even have people reading my stories. When I looked up the reader stats, it was CRAZY the number of countries that was represented. I have someone in Pakistan reading my stories! I even got a review from someone in Latvia! LATVIA! I feel so connected to the world (this coming from a Midwestern girl who's seen the ocean three times. This is about as worldly as I get lol). So thanks for reading even if you don't review, seriously :)