Learning to Fall

By: Tamara A. Ryder

"I was alone in the dark,

Never let down my guard,

Closed the curtain on my heart,

So the world could not see

All the demons in me.

Told myself I was free.

And you showed me how wrong I could be."

Her body shook with sobs and her tears soaked his t-shirt. He stroked her back and murmured comforting nonsense sounds in to her hair. It was hard to believe that the fragile, brokenhearted creature in his arms had any connection to the steely scientist he'd met all those years ago. He'd like to believe that with endless patience and perseverance he had worn away her armor, but he knew the truth. It had always been as fragile as an egg shell. Most people didn't notice the cracks because they weren't really looking.

Gradually her shoulders relaxed and her breathing steadied. For a while she just lay there, her head pillowed on his chest. He thought she had fallen asleep when she suddenly sat up and looked at him. "Are you still angry?" she asked.

He frowned. "About Vincent? Yeah, of course I am."

But she was shaking her head. "Not about Vincent. About . . ." She looked away and plucked at a crease in the sheet. "About me and Hannah and . . . and nobody wanting to marry you."

He stared at her, slowly realizing what she was asking. Finally he said, "Oh." He had to think about it for a moment. This had been the last thing on his mind when he'd taken her in his arms, but now that he analyzed his jumbled feelings, he found that the anger was gone and had been for a while, completely eclipsed by his growing love for this fragile, awkward, fiercely caring woman. "No," he said. "No, that all seems kind of silly now."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment. "I find," she said quietly, "that today's events have made me see the value of emotional vulnerability over imperviousness more clearly than ever although logically they should have had the opposite effect. I feel . . ." She took a long breath. "I feel strong enough to take a chance."

He couldn't speak. He had temporarily forgotten how to construct a coherent sentence. She misinterpreted his hesitation. "Of course, if you feel this is an inappropriate time," she began, but she never finished the sentence because her lips were suddenly very busy.

"When you looked in my eyes,

Past the fear and false pride,

You saw goodness inside.

I can't believe how I feel

Knowing that love is real,

And I'm ready to heal."

He was woken at three a.m. by the buzzing of his phone. He answered it quickly so it wouldn't wake her. "Booth," he whispered.

"Hey. It's Cam. Why are you whispering? Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. It's just that Bones stayed at my place last night and she's still asleep."

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the call. Then, "Did you say Dr. Brennan spent the night with you?"

"On the couch, Camille." Well, she'd started out on the couch, so it was sort of true. "I didn't think it was safe for her to be alone in her apartment. Why are you calling at this hour anyway?"

Because he knew that he had lied and he felt guilty about it, the question came out sharper than he intended. He could hear her own tone bristle defensively. "Uh, to check up on you? In case you've forgotten, there's an insane vigilante sniper trying to kill you."

He had forgotten. For a few hours the whole world had disappeared. It was just him and the woman he loved, and everything was perfect. But he couldn't say that.

"You know what? Forget it," she said when he was silent too long. "I'll talk to you after you've had your coffee. Goodbye, Seeley."

"No, wait, Cam. I'm sorry," he blurted. This was a really bad time to part with angry words. "Thanks," he said instead. "For worrying. I appreciate it."

"That's what friends are for," she said, mollified. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Later."

As he rolled over to put the phone back on the nightstand, a hand softly touched his back. He turned to look in to those piercing blue eyes. "Why did you lie?" she asked. Not accusingly. Just curiously.

"I'm not ashamed or anything," he said quickly. "I just . . . I don't think it's wise to flaunt something like this right now. It could be dangerous."

"You think if Broadsky found out we were lovers, he would try to use me against you."

"Yeah. I mean he blames me for the death of the woman he loved. But once Broadsky's taken care of, we can tell the world."

"I don't think it's necessary to tell the whole world. The information is only of consequence to our friends and family. Why are you laughing?"

"Because I love you," he chuckled, kissing the tip of her nose. "I love everything about you, even your maddening literal mindedness." He pulled her closer and breathed in her scent. "I couldn't bear losing you," he whispered. "I'd die."

"I'm going to tell Angela, though," she said after a moment. "It's highly unlikely that Broadsky could find out from her so it should be perfectly safe."

"And if you don't tell her, she'll pick it up on her radar anyway, and then she'll be mad at you for not telling her."

"Angela doesn't have radar. She has an instinctual cognizance of subliminal cues embedded in body language and speech patterns. Radar would actually be useless for analyzing interpersonal –"

But once again she suddenly had better things to do with her mouth than talk. They didn't sleep any more that morning.

"Now I'm standing on a mountain of rubble

That once was a wall.

Took years to build around me,

And you came along and you tore it down

Like it was nothing at all.

Now it's a little scary.

Learning to fall."

A/N - The song "Learning to Fall" is by Martina McBride, but it might as well have been written just for our favorite crime fighting couple.