Author's Note: And so we've come to an end. Thank you for hanging in there with this long story. A million thanks to Amilyn for her encouragement and assistance (you should check out her stories!). I'll miss the reviewers I've gotten to know while writing this. I'm sure I'll "see" you around. ;)

Chapter 57: When it Counts.

It took a minute for him to be able to hear anything other than his own blood rushing through his ears. It took him a minute longer to be able to see through the red haze that had formed before his eyes. It didn't take him very long to be able to admit to himself that he'd always known there had to be more.

But it was worse than he thought, and he didn't know that he could believe her when she said she'd be okay. How had she done it? How had she lived through it? How had she come back and gone to work and been his partner and hosted dinners and built snowmen? He would have asked, but he knew her, and he already knew her answer.

What else could she have done?

A million things, really. She could have done a million things. She could have given up. She could have retreated completely into herself. She could have lost it, let anger consume her. She could have started drinking. She could have found God, or started to believe in psychology. She could have turned her back on a world that never seemed to deal a fair hand.

But none of those things were Bones.

So she did what she did- lived through it, packed it all away, and moved on. But now she was telling him. Now she was wondering if maybe she wouldn't have to move on alone. Stories beg responses, but his came slowly, because it had to be right.

Fury, that was his instinct. At Max, who should have told the goddamned truth, who should have done a better job of protecting his children. At himself, for not being fast enough, for hiding from the truth. At those men...those men...

It could have consumed him, but she was right there beside him. Max was gone. The men were dead. And she didn't need him to make this about himself. She needed him to prove that he was the man she thought he was. She needed him to prove that she could tell him everything and that nothing fundamental about who they were would change.

She needed a response, but starting was hard. He did what she would do; he began with the truth.

"I'm sorry." And the dam broke, and tears spilled over. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He held tightly to her hand and told the truth, over and over again.

She shook her head. "You shouldn't be sorry. You don't need to apologize, there's no reason-"

It was one of those times where maybe he could help her understand. "Yes there is. There is a reason. I'm not...I know it's not about me. I'm not blaming myself and having you take that on too, but...but that doesn't mean that I'm not so, so sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry that I didn't get there sooner, that somebody didn't get there sooner. I'm sorry that it's been months, and you've been facing it all alone." He cupped her chin in his hand. "I meant it when I told you that you mattered the most to me, and I'm so sorry that this happened to one of the people I care about the most. I'm sorry, Bones."

She chewed on her lip before speaking, and her words weren't what he expected. "Booth, I have a question, and I need you to answer me as a law enforcement professional, not as my friend."

And he wanted to give her what she needed, but he also wanted to be honest. "I'm not sure I'm capable of being anything other than your friend right now."

"But this is important."

He wouldn't let her down. Not again. Not when it was important. He steeled himself. "Okay. What's the question?"

"If you were hearing my story as a case study and were asked to make critiques, what would you have suggested I do differently?"

Oh God. This was what she had been carrying with her. He tried not to let his voice shake. "Not a fucking thing. You did everything you could have done with the information you had."

"There were several times...during transport...those first few days...I didn't fight."

Now he was the one shaking his head. That she even had these questions caused him actual physical pain, but he did his best to inject professionalism into his tone. For her. He would do anything for her. "It wouldn't have been smart. You were outnumbered in unfamiliar territory. You were blinded. If this were a case study, I would have said you did everything right."

But she wasn't done. "What about the food? Hunger pains are severe, but misleading. You think you're going to die, when, in reality, there's time..."

He was going to vomit. He had to stop her. "NO." Maybe he said it more loudly than he should have; she flinched, and he softened. "No. No. You had no real choices there, Bones. No. If...if you had done anything differently, you probably wouldn't be sitting here with me right now. I would have found your body, blown to bits and mixed with all the pieces of those bastards." He visualized the men in pieces. It calmed him.

"And that is your professional opinion?" She would trust him, he could tell.

"Yes, that is my opinion as a law enforcement professional." And as her partner. And as her friend. And as the man who loved her.

She took that in, thought on it. He watched the tension leave her eyes the moment she accepted it. "Okay."

The countdown on the television screen had started once again, marking the passing of another year for some other time zone. Her hand was still safely in his. She was still there. This was new to him, but she had already been living with it. She was the expert.

"So what do we do now, Bones?"

She turned to him pensively. "Right now?"

He let out a breath that was half laugh. His partner, always literal. "Sure. What do we do right now?"

"I...I suppose we should clean up our hot chocolate mugs."

And you had to start somewhere. "After that?"

"Well," she though for a moment, "then you stay in the spare room, because it's still snowing, and there are a disproportionate number of drunk drivers out on New Year's Eve, and it's well after midnight, and I don't really want to have to get out of bed to let you in at 7:30."

He could accept that. "Okay. What about after the holidays? What about when we go back to real life?"

"This is real life, Booth."

She had a point. But still. "You know what I mean, Bones."

She shrugged a little. "We go to work. We catch bad guys."

They would be who they had always been. Fundamentally. "And we'll be okay."

"There's no reason for us not to be."

He had to say it. "But if we're not, we'll ask for help."

She nodded; she knew what he meant. "And I'll finally start planning Angela's baby shower." Her eyes lit up; she had something else to tell him. "Did you know that if it's a girl, they're going to name her after me?"

He smiled a real smile. "We're going to have a baby Temperance?"

"Well, not exactly. It will be her middle name. They won't call her that. Angela says it's awful."

He was offended. "Angela's middle name is Pearly Gates! Who the hell is she to say someone else's name is awful?" And even though it felt weird to do so, he laughed. "Can you imagine what they'll probably name that baby? Probably something insane, like...like, Merry-Go-Round!"

She joined him in the laughter. "You are being ridiculous."

"No, no. I could totally see it. Little baby Merry-Go-Round Temperance Montenegro Hodgins."

"That would be...horrible."

"Right? Or, oh God, Hodgins could insist on some sort of bug name. Praying Mantiss Temperance Montenegro Hodgins."

She was laughing so hard she was crying, and he loved seeing her happy. But they weren't finished, because the time for glossing over things had passed

"Will you be seeing Max again?"

She sobered. "Not a lot. Maybe at the holidays. Maybe."

"I'm sorry I brought him back into your life. I'm sorry I pushed you to accept him."

"I'm not."

He squeezed her hand. "Okay, so you'll plan Angela's baby shower and sometimes you'll spend holidays with Max. Then what?"

"I imagine...Sweets always says that our emotional lives aren't linear...so...so I guess that means that occasionally something will happen to remind me of the kidnapping or the assault, and it will take my breath away."

He looked at her intently. "And then you'll call me."

"Okay. And then I'll call you." She smiled up at him shyly. "And then one day, I'll turn around, and it won't be shadowing me anymore...metaphorically speaking."

He smiled. "You speak metaphorically now, Bones?"

"From time to time. I'm working on it."

"You're doing good."

"I don't do anything that I can't do well."

"Touche, Bones." He winked at her before turning serious. "So where will it be, metaphorically?"

"Still there, but farther away." She sounded certain.

There was one more thing he had to make sure she knew. "And where will I be?"

She gave him a look that let him know there was no doubt. "You'll be beside me."

And that was enough for now. She would be okay. They would be okay. Eventually.

"Damn straight, Bones. Always."

Fin