fDisclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own nor am I involved with the production of Bones, - so if Hart Hanson & Company are reading this? Call me.

Synopsis: Booth and Brennan have come through the long dark night but there are things left unsaid and now Booth's worried that the woman he loves beyond measure may discover he really isn't good enough. How will Brennan deal with the revelations of his past, his childhood, and the secret he keeps hidden deepest of all?

A/N: Adult language and situations apply including controversial topics, frank discussions of emotional and physical abuse, and suicide. Oh and there may be a tiny smidgen of smut.

A Pivotal Moment - Chapter Three – Revelations

Brennan's POV

Booth is holding me now, and I'm laying limply in his arms, clasped to his chest like a rag doll. The sweat of our efforts is drying, threatening to seal us together as if that is all it would take. We are joined in so many ways now, I will never be free of him, nor he of me. As surprising a revelation as that is for me, more surprising still is the realization that I never want to be free of him. He owns me now, I demanded as much and he gave me that and more. I'm shaking with relief, aglow in the aftermath of the most intense and incredible session of lovemaking I've ever had. Lovemaking. I, Temperance Brennan, now say words like 'lovemaking' and 'own' and 'mine' and I mean them, I revel in them. So much has changed, perhaps that fight was the best thing to ever happen because this, this I'm not sure would have ever happened without it. I'm still leaking tears of joy when I hear those words, words I am not sure he meant to say aloud but words he spoke to me, directly to me, "You are mine, Temperance Brennan, all mine, forever mine and I, I am yours from this day forward, forever yours."

The tears come unbidden, springing anew from the intensity of his devotion to me, from the physical ministrations, the feelings he evoked, the sheer volume of pleasure he gave me, not just more than I've ever known from any one man, but more than I've ever known from all the men I've ever known. That sounds extreme, true, but it is the truth. Sex with other men was always pleasurable, but it was always only pleasurable. One time with Booth and the bar has been permanently reset, no other man, not even Sully, can compare to what we have. I can't help myself, the tears continue to fall, a sob escapes me, a rasping breath, and Booth, my Booth, is suddenly worrying over me.

"Hey. C'mon Bones, baby, what's wrong?" The concern in his voice is so clear but I can't bring myself to look at him with tears running down my face.

"It's nothing Booth," I sniff and laugh a snotty nosed laugh at the same time, really attractive I'm sure. His hand grasps my chin and there's no avoiding those deep, chocolate brown eyes or that puppy-dog look he gives me that melts my resolve. My poor Booth, so worried he's upset me.

"C'mon Bones, you can tell me. W-was it not good?" Christ God Almighty, is he kidding me? On what planet could that not have been good?

"Booth, oh my God no, it-it was unbelievable, better than good it…I don't know how to describe it." breathe Temperance breathe. "Seeley it…it was the best ever, it was just so much, too much, I-I've never felt this much before, or so intensely. I just wasn't ready for it to be this good, so amazingly good." The smile beaming from his face could light up my apartment and I marvel at the man who places so much stock in what I think and say. I realize then what it means to love someone, to really and truly love someone. We put our hearts in their hands, we trust in them completely, and we give them immense power over us. I know now, I am his and he, he is mine, completely.

"Well I'm glad it was good Bones, though you know it will get better."

"Better? You can't be serious."

"No, I am. The more we get to know each other intimately, the more we learn about each other's bodies, the more responsive they'll become…the more attuned to one another." As he's saying this his hand has begun lazily drifting over my skin, his fingers tracing nameless patters where they touch raising a trail of gooseflesh in their wake and sending shivers down my spine. I'm just now starting to calm down from that last incredible session of lovemaking , the intensity of our emotions, the need for release, the passion that lay in every touch, every kiss, every thrust and lick and bite and oh my. I'm already getting wet just thinking about it again, the heat pooling at my core, that tell-tale trickle of moisture threatening my folds, and the familiar feeling of something twitching at my thigh tells me that Booth is well on the way to recovering as well. I have to wonder now if death by orgasm is actually a possibility. If he can recover that quickly and given as I'm already warming to the idea of another go, then it could be possible. Of course I must admit the thought of the two of us doing nothing but coupling until neither of us can move again has its merits. Still, there are things I know we need to talk about, things that we must address unless we want to go through something, a version of this, all over again.

"Booth?" He fixes me with a smoky look and I can tell he's thinking about another round of hot and sweaty lovemaking. I can feel myself shiver at the thought, and I promise myself we're definitely doing that after.

"What is it Bones?" I swallow around the lump in my throat, it's now or never.

"I, I was thinking. Before we…made love, we were talking and I, I was apologizing for calling you a loser." I can feel him tense against me and I rush through the rest of what I need to say. "I never got to actually apologize Booth. I know I shouldn't have trusted his word, and I know you are nota loser. You never have been Seeley, never. Not in my eyes, and not in Parker's. No one who knows you would ever call you a loser and, and I'm sorry that I didn't handle it the right way. I just, I, I didn't say the right thing in the interrogation room because I was surprised by your reaction and I fell back to what I knew, what I'm good at, which is anthropology, you know, being a squint. I didn't understand then, but I do now." His lips quirk slightly at the word squint, but his eyes are still closed so I can't tell what he's really feeling.

"You do?" Booth's voice is low, soft, and level but it's not until he opens his eyes and looks at me that I get any sense as to the depth of his pain. I only hope he understands what I'm trying to say.

"Yes. Your father and mother, the way they treated you, every day of your young life, the way they made you feel? When I didn't defend you, when I let you think that…anyway that brought it all up again. It tore open old wounds, made them raw again and I know that hurt you. I'm sorry Booth, I'm so sorry I hurt you like that but…"

"But what Bones?" He's not pulling away, not shutting down, he's listening to me. There's that at least.

"But maybe that needed to happen. Old wounds Booth, they don't always heal right and opening them up, bringing things out into the sunlight, it's a good way to heal. Hang onto them and they fester, become septic." I'm still no good at this, this talking about issues, problems. I'm a scientist at heart, logical and reasoning, but with him I'm trying to 'think' with my heart instead of my brain. So far it's worked, my brain got me into trouble, almost cost me my chance of a real relationship with Booth, my heart on the other hand, my heart got me Booth and the best sex I've ever had. I watch him carefully, willing him to understand what I'm doing, why I'm bringing this up again. Time passes, seconds into minutes and we lay there just as we were, his arm still covering me, his leg still over mine, finally he exhales slowly, and when I see his eyes my heart unclenches. The smile is back, the smile in his eyes, the one I hadn't seen in a month, the one I thought I'd nearly driven away forever.

"So tell me Bones, when did you become so insightful?"

"I'm not really. I just have a very, very good teacher."

"You do huh? Anyone I know?"

"I don't know. He's tall and handsome, has a great sense of humor, he's a very attentive lover, and he's smarter than he lets on."

"Smarter? Really?"

"Oh yeah, much smarter, and when it comes to reading people there's no one better."

"Hmm, so what's this wonderful guys name?"

"Lance Sweets" I love to see his smile and I can't resist teasing him a little, even after all we've been through he needs to know that we can still laugh. Especially after all we've been through. I'm not disappointed when Booth grabs me, pulling me atop him while rolling underneath, his fingers dancing along my sides the entire time, tickling me relentlessly until I'm gasping for breath, thrashing about, unable to do more than slap ineffectively at him, tears streaking down my face as I giggle and laugh like a child.

"Care to tell the truth Temperance? Because I can keep doing this all night."

"B-B-Booth! H-His name is Bo-o-o-oth!" He finally relents, his hands coming to rest at my waist, I struggle to regain my composure, my chest burning from laughing so hard when he captures my lips in a deepening kiss that sends my heart racing and takes my breath away all over again. I feel myself melting into his embrace, the heat pooling at my core again, definite signs of life in Booth, when he finally breaks the kiss and I can't help but groan in disappointment. A single look and I know, we're going to finish the talk.

"I love you Bones, my God how I love you. You need to know that."

"I do Booth. I know you love me, and I love you too. Do you believe me?"

"Yes sweetheart, yes I do. I just had to make sure you knew that because what I'm going to say, what I'm going to tell you, it gets kind of hard for me to talk about without disconnecting, ya' know? I, I have to…"

"Compartmentalize, distance yourself, so you can do it. Right?"

"Right."

Booth's eyes sweep over me, until our eyes lock again and I can, what does he say? Oh yeah, I can see the wheels turning. He wants to talk to me, he wants to tell me everything now but he's afraid. Before he was telling me because he wanted to chase me away but now, now he's afraid that I'll become disgusted by him and run. My poor Booth, I have to wonder if love is really worth it. I mean I love him, and yes, he's worth anything to me but for him, how can the hell he's putting himself through be worth it? How can I be worth all of this?

"The first home I was placed in, when I went into foster care, the family was very strict, very authoritarian. It was a traditional household, the father worked a factory job, the mother stayed at home and took care of the house. They had two other children, both boys, both younger than me…" I'm rambling, I know I am. I don't know why, it shouldn't bother me. What happened is all in the past, but talking about it hurts. "My foster parents locked me in the trunk of a car for two days when I broke a dish. I was a very clumsy child. They warned me that it would happen but the water was so hot and the soap was so slippery. I still don't think it was fair even though they gave me fair warning. The water was so hot…"

Tears sprang hot from my eyes, and I choked on my own breath until Booth clutched me tightly against his chest. He placed small chaste kisses along the side of my head and whispered sweet blandishments attempting to assuage my pain. He rocked me gently from side to side, traced long circles in my back, stroked my head lovingly until the my tears stopped and my breathing steadied. It wasn't long after that the rocking stopped and as I rested my head upon his chest, head tucked snugly beneath his chin, that I heard him speaking to me.

Booth spoke for quite a while. He told me the stories of his childhood that no one else knows, not even Jared. These were the dark secrets that only Booth and his father would be able to talk about, the things that gnawed at him deep inside. I listened quietly as Booth told me how his father would tie him up with electrical cord and lock him in a closet, a dirty rag shoved into his mouth, as punishment for being a 'smart ass'. I said nothing when he related how his father taught him the valuable lesson of always making sure his shirts were starched and pressed, by holding a steam iron to his chest until the wrinkles disappeared. I remained silent as he told me how his old man once marched him outside in the dead of winter, making him stand in the driveway while wearing nothing but his underwear, and then directed a continuous spray of icy water from a garden hose at Booth's young body. I cried softly as he told me how each drop of water felt like a needle being driven into his skin, how his father kept at it until his teeth stopped chattering and his lips were blue, how he nearly died from pneumonia. Apparently this was his father's idea of just punishment, and Booth's sin was leaving a wet towel on the bathroom floor. Of course he'd been warned what would happen.

All of that I endured with hardly more than a few tears escaping. Though my heart ached for Booth, the child, the innocent, and though inside I was crying in agony with him, I did my best to show nothing and I did it for him. I did it so Booth wouldn't feel as if he had to stop, wouldn't feel as if he was upsetting me. I know him and as strong as he is he can't stand to see the people he loves suffer, and I am one of them, but for him I would have endured far worse tortures. I would have gladly traded places with him. Instead I listen stoically, struggling with the few tears that escape my control. I make a silent vow, as I listen, that one day I would meet Booth's father, and when I did the measure of revenge I would exact on Booth's behalf would leave that man wondering why his God didn't grant him a merciful death. I understood then, why Booth reacted the way he did about my stories in the system and later, travelling abroad. Love was powerful, and dangerous, in its way. We each felt the need to protect the other, a powerful, dangerous, possessive need and I, for one, no longer felt the urge to fight it. He belonged to me, battered and beaten, and as yet unbowed, he was mine and I'll be damned if anyone ever treats him like that again.

"It was the start of my summer vacation, freshman year in high school. Mom had been gone for almost two years, she stopped writing us, stopped sending money, stopped caring. The barbershop was struggling and every spare dime Dad had went into a bottle. I was working two jobs plus my paper route just to make sure we had money for groceries and to help pay for the little luxuries like electricity and water, and I still did most of the work around the house. Bones, I was just fifteen but I felt like I was fifty, my friends were worrying about how they'd afford a new pair of shoes for some dance and I was wondering if we'd have enough money to by lunch on Friday. I was just so tired, ya' know?"

I could feel the fatigue in his voice, I looked up at him for the first time since he'd started and stifled a gasp. He was looking back at me but not at me, through me. His eyes were hollow but filled with incredible pain and sadness, I'd seen this look before, hours before in my office. This frightened me.

"Anyway, there was a dance and I wanted to go. This girl, Eleanor Sandino, she really liked me. She was smart, funny, a real brain…you'd have loved her Bones, she was our class valedictorian and she liked me, me."

"I can see why Seeley, I love you and I'm pretty brainy too."

"Nah, you're not just pretty brainy Bones, you're beautiful and brilliant, way smarter and way, way prettier than Eleanor, but Eleanor Sandino was the smartest girl in school and she wanted to go out with me. So the night of the dance I took my money and I bought myself a new pair of shoes, borrowed a buddy's fake ID and my old man's car and picked up Eleanor for the dance. We'd only been there an hour when he found me. He started in right then, in front of everyone, pushing me around, taking his shots and calling me names. For once I actually had it coming, and honestly I didn't care what anyone else thought but when I saw Eleanor looking at me…it was the look in her eyes. There was nothing there but pity Bones, nothing but pity. I guess that was the tipping point for me, that moment when it all changed."

I knew. I knew without asking but I had to ask him now. "What did you do Booth?"

He pulled his arm off my back and turned it toward me, showing me the underside of his forearm. I tentatively pressed my thumb to the flesh and found what I was looking for, the scar was faint, barely noticeable even under close examination and I was sure it's mate on the other arm would be the same. However when I pressed the muscle of his forearm with my thumb and looked carefully I could still see it, just beneath the surface. Lengthwise, a single long straight scar, no hesitation cuts just one long smooth stroke. During my time in the system I'd seen plenty of scars from botched suicide attempts, girls and boys who slashed their wrists not realizing that the most effective way wasn't crossways, but lengthways in line with the blood vessels. Booth had meant to do a neat job of it, and by the length and depth of these scars he should have been dead. It takes everything in my power to not cry out as I turn back to him.

"You tried to kill yourself."

"I would have succeeded if it wasn't for my grandfather. He took me in after the first attempt, helped me get better, helped me find a way to overcome the darkness I felt inside me. He gave me a purpose, taught me to be a better man, taught me that God doesn't give us more than we can handle and I should seek strength in my faith, look to Christ when I'm feeling weak." Booth's eyes finally seemed to focus on mine again, and he smiled sweetly at me, bending just enough to place a small kiss on my forehead. "He'd love you Bones, he really would."

"Your grandfather, is he still alive?" Booth's nod and smiling eyes are all I need. "I would very much like to meet him sometime Booth, to say thank you."

"Thank you?"

"For giving you to me, and for making you the man you are…the man I love." I think to myself, even as I reaffirmed that I would never, ever, belittle Booth's faith again since it was part and parcel to his very real salvation, that I would never again let this man lying beneath me think for one moment that he was anything other than loved or that he deserved anything less than to be loved. I reach up to him then, taking his lips with mine and kissing him deeply, wondering as he opens instantly to me, our tongues sliding over one another in a familiar dance. When we part for air, I can't help but smile at the beautiful face I see. So strong and warm and gentle, and to think I nearly lost any chance at knowing him.

I heard his voice then, thick with fatigue and emotion, husky from the long nights efforts, asking me one last time for an affirmation. "Temperance, are you sure you want this? A life with me?"

"Seeley, my love, I have never been more sure of anything. You are mine, and I am yours. If I believed in fate I would say that we were put here to find one another, to complete each other. Your weaknesses, my strengths; your strengths, my weaknesses. We fit Booth. There are no two more imperfect souls on this planet but together we are a perfect fit."

He says nothing and I'm afraid my florid prose has failed to achieve it's task until the familiar rumble in his chest reassures me. My Booth, my Seeley, is laughing.

"Jeez Bones, a simple 'Yeah, we're good' was enough for me."

Laughing back I slap him hard in a joyous scolding and his chest rumbles anew with laughter. Leaning forward Booth places a chaste kiss on my forehead. "You know, I said a simple 'Yeah, we're good' was enough, but thanks for the long version Bones. It was beautiful."

"New York Times best selling author Booth, you have to expect I'll wax poetic every once in a while. Just don't expect it too often, especially not after we make love."

"Yeah, it's funny how you can barely string two syllables together after you've come a few times." Booth's snort is a welcome sound, my Seeley is back.

"Six is not a few, and at least now I know why they call you a Special Agent."

"Heh, don't you forget it either Bones."

"Well you can always remind me of it in the morning.

Booth chuckles again, the familiar rumbling soothing me he pulls down the throw off the back of the couch and settles it over us, shifting slightly so I would rest comfortably half on him, half against the back of the couch. Exhausted, though my emotions are still running high, I couldn't help that a few tears that leaked out unbidden at this simple sign of his protective nature. A nature, I now knew, that had been forged in pain, tempered in darkness, and sharpened by the cruelty of our world. Still to feel so loved and cared for, to be so selflessly protected by a man so good, I didn't know if my heart would ever grow used to it, or if my brain would ever accept it, but I was resolved to love him for as long as he would let me. My ear pressed against his chest, the gentle beat lulling me into slumber. The last thing I was aware of was the feeling of his lips on the top of my head, and the sound of his voice rumbling, "Good night" as I drifted off to sleep.f

A/N: Feedback is always welcome, the more specific the better. Thanks!

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