A/N: I'm back, baby!!! And I miss posting!!! I finished my tests, so now I have more free time. This is something I have been working on for a little while, but just got around to write it. It's different kind of romance from my Christmas one, but I really really hope you like it!!!
Thanks to bertie for revising everything and for helping me develop the story line!!!
Lyrics are from Snow Patrol - "Set the fire to the third bar" - such beautiful song, and it fits perfectly with the chapter.
Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.
I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground
And I, I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms
Cuba. Classified location.
The heat was nearly choking her as Brennan made her way slowly into the bathroom, the door closing with a click behind her. Clicking the light on, she watched as it flickered a few times before giving up, and she let out a frustrated sigh.
As the sun was shining so brightly outside, she opened one side of the creaking wooden shutters, illuminating the dirty bathroom. Walking back, Brennan leaned over the sink, the pallor of her own face startling her as she stared at herself in the stained and broken mirror.
Overwhelmed by the events of the last hours, she felt her stomach beginning to turn, the first wave of nausea hitting her as she doubled over the toilet, throwing up the remains of a long ago consumed meal. When she was sure her stomach had settled, she pushed herself back up, small beads of sweat prickling her brow.
Moving back over to the sink, she quickly rinsed her mouth out with water from a crinkled plastic bottle before spitting it into the sink and repeating the process three more times. Only when the bitter taste left her tongue did she allow herself to stop.
Imitating her actions from minutes ago, she leaned over the sink, watching as a drop of sweat made its way down her fevered forehead, and wanting nothing more than to cool her body down. Part of her wanted to simply drop to the floor and sleep, but the idea of falling onto the dirty tiles of the bathroom repulsed her, so she kept herself up, standing on trembling legs.
As the wind blew into the room through the half-open window, she felt her back aching a little more and her skin burning against the soft cotton of her dress. Hissing in pain, she stripped herself of her clothes, piling them on the closed toilet as she turned the shower on. The first drops of water began to fall as she stretched her hand under the spray, sighing softly as the cool droplets caressed her skin.
Gingerly, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, careful not to touch the skin under the white lace. Turning her back to the mirror, her heart sank as she followed the path of the light bruises and red burns standing out on her pale skin. Pushing her panties off her legs, she tried to erase the last events from her mind as she stepped inside the tub, sinking to the floor as her legs gave way.
Hugging her knees close to her chest, she closed her eyes as the cold water hit her back, each drop cleansing her of a little more fear. The fever would go down on its own, and the bruises would heal eventually. But the consequences were far from over. She not only knew, but was painfully aware, that it had only begun.
Temperance lifted her head at the feel of the water running down her face, blurring her vision and mixing with the warm tears in a path down her cheeks. As irrational and impossible as it was, she wanted to go back to a time when everything felt right, a time when she could still see his eyes and his warm smile.
"Booth…"
His name fell from her lips like a plea, a prayer for the days when she had his comforting smile and touch to get her through the rough times of death and despair. Now, he seemed like a memory or a dream, a vague illusion constructed well enough to deceive her craving heart.
She was alone now, and painfully aware that her knight in FBI shining armor wasn't about to sweep in to save the day. She had to either get herself out of this on her own or perish in this god-forsaken place, so far away from home.
The wind picked up outside, blowing through the window, and goosebumps rose along her spine at the light breeze. She had to leave this room eventually, she knew that. But she preferred to remain sheltered in the dirty bathroom for now, away from work, away from the world and away from him.
He'd left a little while ago, just before she entered the bathroom. She never asked where he was going, knowing an answer would come just as coldly as it always did. He left in his usual manner, with a curt nod and a flash of the gun on his hip. She'd learned to keep her mouth shut for the first time in her life, burning the back of his skull with a glare as he closed the door behind him, locking it from outside.
Stretching her legs out, she lay back in the tub, being careful not to put pressure on any of her wounds. Luckily, she didn't need any medical assistance, and hopefully they would heal fast. Tilting her head up, she sighed as the water ran between her breasts, over her stomach and down between her thighs.
Closing her eyes, she let the water wash over her relentlessly, the gentle touch on her skin taking her back to the last night she'd spent with her partner instead of him. It was a difficult memory, since there were so many conflicting emotions during that night that she'd felt overwhelmed by them.
Behind her eyelids, Brennan saw Booth's smile, felt his hands against her bruised and injured skin as he whispered something in her ear. She couldn't make out the words, but the soft brush of his warm breath against her ear was all she needed for comfort.
And so she let herself get lost in the dream that maybe everything could still be okay. Placing her open palm over her heart, she let the steady beat carry her back to Booth, back to his warm embrace. She wanted to feel his skin under her fingers again, feel his hands on her body as he kissed her. She could almost feel him there next to her in some dismal bathroom in Cuba.
That was until there was a hard knock on the bathroom door. He was back.
Washington DC. Jeffersonian Medico-Legal lab. Six months earlier.
They were fighting as usual in her office, about a subject Brennan couldn't even remember. She said something harsh and watched Booth's eyes flash dangerously as she turned her back to him, intent on walking out. She had no time to react when she felt him spin her around, her back meeting the wall with a muffled thud. Her protests were silenced as his lips claimed hers in a fury, his hard body pressed against hers, pinning her between himself and the wall.
She returned the kiss with equal ferocity, pulling him hard against her with strength forged by years of restraint. His lips were persistent as he kissed her, his hands moving down over her waist, her hips, her thighs, as though mapping the unchartered territory of her body and claiming it for his own. She arched her body under his possessive touch, the feel of him pressing against her thigh marking him as hers in just the same way. She let out a small moan of encouragement at the sensation and Booth took this opportunity to let his tongue enter her mouth, tasting her with a hunger he knew would be insatiable.
In the back of their minds, they knew they should stop. This was wrong on so many levels, but it felt so right to be so close, having a taste of each other even as they craved so much more. He wanted to give her everything he was, and she never wanted to turn down anything he offered. Her hands gripped his tee shirt tightly, holding onto him like a lifeline as he explored her mouth with his tongue.
Greedy for more, his lips moved to her neck, kissing firmly and nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear, while her hands gripped his behind, pulling him even harder against her, with the friction on her sensitive nerves causing a throaty moan to escape her lips as her head leaned back, colliding with the wall. The very slight pain at the back of her head seemed to act as some kind of awakening, and she pushed him away from her, a panicked expression on her face.
He was taken aback as he felt her soft hands on his chest, pushing his body back from hers. It took mere seconds to comprehend what had transpired between them and that they had crossed the line he was so careful to draw.
Backing away with her hand over her mouth, Brennan could still feel his taste on her tongue. As good as it felt, there was a warning flashing red in her head, telling her that this was wrong.
"I have to go," she said quickly, taking her coat in one hand as she tried to make a quick escape, knowing that the only way to regain the control she so desperately needed was to get away from his gaze, his scent, and everything else that made him Booth. But she had no luck as he gripped her arms to stop her from running.
"Bones, wait," he pleaded, turning her to him as he searched her eyes. "We need to talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about. It was just a kiss, that's all," she said firmly, her tone more confident than she felt. "It won't happen again."
"You're saying you felt nothing?" he asked, his eyes burning into hers, daring her to lie to him and say that their kiss hadn't affected her.
"Arousal is only normal in a situation like that. Arguing releases adrenaline, which in turn can inflame libido and increase arousal. It was the effect of hormones, nothing more," she said, turning her eyes from his as she shrugged his hands from her arms.
"So that's it? There's no emotion involved? You'll just shrug this off?" he asked, anger tingeing his words. She looked at him again, her mind searching for an answer as she tried hard to convince herself that her heart wasn't in the equation.
"Don't do this," she said with as much authority as she could muster, desperate for some safe ground to hold on to.
His eyes softened as he gazed at her, and taking one uncertain step forward, he held her arms with both his hands, his thumbs brushing her skin softly. "Then don't do this to me," he said quietly, almost begging, but closed his eyes as she stepped out of his reach.
"I'm leaving tomorrow, Booth. I had this trip planned for months," she said, folding her arms over her chest, in a defensive rather than confrontational stance.
"You can't run from me like this, Bones," he said hopefully, taking a step forward as she took another step back.
"I'm not running," she said calmly, "I had this trip planned, and I'm not changing my mind because of hormones."
He just stared at her for few seconds, tempted to push her against the wall and change her mind with his kisses, but was unable to even consider hurting her. She was scared, he knew that, but what else could he do? There was no forcing her to do something she didn't want to do, and this wasn't the way he'd wanted everything to happen.
"Fine, I won't stop you." With one final look, he turned and left her office, not bothering to look back as he strode off with a purpose. To let her go.
She watched him go, every step he took adding weight to her heart. There was no going back in her decision, but she still felt the sting of tears burning her eyes. With a last look at his retreating form she sighed, trying to forget the feel of his warm body pressed against hers and convince herself she'd made the right choice.
The next day, she couldn't help but glance back over her shoulder as she walked through the airport, half expecting him to be there.
But he wasn't. She was free to leave, and he wasn't there to stop her. One part of her was relieved, reminding herself that it was for the best, but the other, despite all her logic and protests of independence, wanted nothing more than to have him by her side. Logic won out in his absence though, and she boarded the plane, leaving behind Booth and a part of herself that she would never admit existed.
Washington DC. Booth's apartment.
The last dregs of his beer finished a long time ago, Booth kicked the bottle away from him as he slumped back on the couch, reaching for the television remote in an attempt to alleviate the boredom which was starting to take over.
One by one, he watched as the channels passed: a football game, a soap opera, a detergent commercial, several movies. Nothing was able to hold his attention. Until he reached the Discovery Channel.
On days like these, when he found himself alone at night in his apartment, Booth somehow took comfort in watching the Discovery Channel in particular. He could close his eyes and listen to all the complex words he'd never heard before, and it was like she was back, saying all those smart things that confused him.
Today was no different, with his schedule for the night consisting of nursing several beers before falling asleep on the couch. He wanted Brennan out of his mind, out of his heart, but she still had a strong hold over him. Over the last six months, he'd slowly started to let her go, but during the nights, she rarely left his mind.
"Bones…"
The nickname felt foreign to his tongue now, as it had been so long since he'd last used it. It was painful to pronounce, the remainder of a time when he stupidly believed in the possibility of a happily-ever-after.
There was no denying that he missed her. Terribly. But he hadn't seen her in six months, and the only news he had of her came from the short weekly e-mails she sent to Angela. One minute she was there, the next she was gone. And he could never forgive himself for not trying harder.
Sighing, he turned the TV off, needing a quiet evening with hopefully Bones-free dreams. He had to erase her from his mind if he wanted any chance of having a normal successful relationship. And right now, he wasn't willing to screw up. Not like before. She was perfect for him.
A week after Brennan left, he met her. He wasn't interested in starting a relationship, but she caught him by surprise that day. Sweet, funny, beautiful; she was everything a guy could ask for. But still, there were moments when he would catch himself wishing that her eyes weren't quite so brown, and her hair was the one specific shade of auburn.
They had been together for just under six months, their relationship marking the fact he'd decided to move on. She was good to him, and he felt happy with her. Their relationship was steady and smooth, never having a crisis to solve other than a small tussle for the blankets.
She was perfect in everything she did and sweet as a summer flower. But he always had the feeling that something was missing. Somehow, he missed fighting and bickering, he missed the intensity he'd felt in the past. But he couldn't dwell it, especially not when Brennan had been the one who decided to walk out of his life.
Turning over on the couch, he tried to surrender to sleep, but behind his eyelids he couldn't help but see her face, the teasing smile and kind eyes that haunted his dreams. He could almost feel her soft ivory skin under his fingertips, her scent washing over him just as when they were pressed against the wall.
Lying back comfortably on the leather couch, he rested his hand over his heart, and with a guilty sigh, he realized his heart was beating faster inside his chest at the thought of her lips and body against his. He knew that it was wrong, but thinking about her was beyond his control.
Giving in to his cravings, he wished for her kisses, for her sweet touch. He wanted to be confused by her intelligence and touched by her kindness and understanding. He wanted to fight, to argue and to yell at the top of his lungs, and bicker about guns and cars. But that was gone, and he only had the memories to keep him company now.
Even so, as he lay on his couch waiting for sleep to come, he let himself go to Brennan, wherever she was, picturing her and hearing her familiar voice as she gazed at him with those gorgeous eyes. And for a few seconds, he could've sworn he could feel her next to him.
That was until there was a soft knock on his door. She was back.
So, what do you think? I'll try to work on the next chapter as soon as I can, so go right ahead and leave a review!!!