Just a little idea I had today.

A STORM APPROACHES

It is still over the horizon, but there is lightning in the air. Are either of them aware of the gathering turbulence? Can they feel the crackle of electricity in the wind, or are they aware of only the power that they generate between themselves? The first hint of this storm is not a thunderclap... it is a knock.

I. Before the Storm

The first week went by in a haze of whiskey and numbness. 'Don't feel. Don't think,' throbbed like a mantra in his dazed head. His apartment was as empty as his heart, and day by day he awoke, dressed himself and drove to work on autopilot.

Blue eyes were following his every movement, and Booth was sure that – despite her usual inability to read humans – Brennan could see his inner struggle, could look directly into his bruised soul. She tried to be there for him, he knew it, but more than once he felt the urge to scream.

Why now?

For years he had circled his partner like a moth which tries to get close to the fatal flame, addicted to every little sign that told him that she noticed it. A tiny touch, a laughter that was solely his to hear, a bright glance that lingered just a tad too long to be a glance. A head on his shoulder whenever she felt weak. He had taken and given. A plastic pig, a hug, the smurf she deserved. Words that went a long way down to soothe her old pain. A family.

And then – one night – driven by stupid courage and hope, his crazy heart had given too much. It had been the end of their universe of little details. Suddenly the innocence of their physical closeness had seemed to be contaminated, and, eventually, Brennan had fled. Marking the end of something. Opening the door to something new. Someone else. Someone but her...

The second week the pain came back with full force and in its wake the nagging questions. Why did he always fell in love with women who did not love him enough? Marriage, a wife, a single life shared – was it really too much to ask for?

Booth had witnessed so much death in his life, and Rebecca had reminded him of the vitality of youth. They had created a new life, new hope, but for reasons he failed to name it hadn't been enough.

Loving Brennan... loving Brennan had been inevitable, and he had known it right from the beginning. Not in a million years would he forget the unexpected clenching of his heart muscle when he had first laid eyes on the woman that should become his partner. His best friend. The protagonist of his dreams. And in the end his biggest pain.

Without being aware of it, Hannah had offered a way out of his misery, and gratitude had mingled with something else when he had first made love to her. She had invaded his life with laughter, and for a short while he had been truly happy. And then he had pretended to be happy for a while longer.

Booth wasn't a fool, and deep down he knew that marrying Hannah wouldn't have provided him with a solution. It would have prolonged something that was never meant to last in the first place. His love for the blonde journalist was tender and soothing, but... it did not burn. Never had.

And in the end, in the end he was too similar to a moth to settle for anything less than dazzling.

The third week his vision cleared somehow. Since Hannah had left, Booth had stated repeatedly that he was fine, had moved on, but for the first time it felt as if it might actually be true. Moving on... the only question was: In which direction?

Brennan's pale blue eyes did not stop observing him, cataloguing him, and every once in a while he met her gaze and felt the familiar ache. Only that it was different now. He had told her that he would be her partner from now on – nothing else – and she had accepted it. At least she had told him so. Her gaze, however, spoke a different language, and Booth didn't know if she was aware of the signals she was sending to him.

He had tried to forget it, had buried it as deep as possible, but it was in the third week when the memories of the night in the rain broke free. Not the first night, no, the second one. The one that hurt the most.

Her beautiful face covered with tears. Her small voice when she had whispered her regrets. Her sobs when he had to tell her that it was too late. The tingling sensation in his fingers when he had tried to suppress the urge to hug her.

She had never meant to hurt him, and he had never meant to hurt her, but somehow their history was saturated with pain. His, hers, theirs.

Rejecting her had been an ironic twist of fate. In all those years this had only been the second thing he had denied her. A gun and his heart. Although, he had to admit, that wasn't completely true because his heart had always been hers. He just couldn't tell her then.

He ended up spending Valentine's Day with her, and when he came home that night, the first candid smile in three weeks tugged at his lips, and suddenly the knot in his chest loosened somehow. In all those years he had never spent the 14th of February with Temperance Brennan, and this year she had chosen him over every other invitation she had gotten. No, she had not only chosen him, she had gone the extra mile to provide him with exactly the kind of celebration he had needed.

Maybe, Booth mused, maybe he didn't have to move in a certain direction. Maybe just drifting was okay for a while.

The fourth week found them having drinks at the Founding Fathers again, and everything felt almost normal.

-BONES-

"Cheers, Bones."

Raising her glass, she added.

"To us and one more solved case."

Both of them downed their shots, and his grimace was accompanied by her mild gasp when the golden liquor hit their throats.

The case hadn't even been particularly challenging, but for the first time in ages an undiluted happy mood surrounded them, making their hearts lightweight and their tongues incautious. Booth threw his arm up in the air, and the gesture was followed by a triumphant outcry.

"We rock, Baby!"

He noticed his slip immediately, and something inside of him cringed, but her face didn't show any reaction. After a moment he relaxed and exhaled a breath he hadn't been aware of holding.

Then he turned his attention to the barkeeper, and Brennan's heart started beating again. When the endearment had left his lips, a rush of warmth had spread out in her body, and Booth would never know how much it had cost her to keep her facial features unaffected. He hadn't meant to call her that name, she knew it, and reacting to it could have made things worse. They had just stopped walking on eggshells around each other, and Brennan was glad for their newly found bond of trust and friendship.

Somehow the tables were turned now, and he wasn't ready yet. A few weeks ago he had told her that he would never be. Twisting her glass in her hand, Brennan remembered that conversation. They had been sitting in exactly the same spot, but back then his eyes had been dark and haunted. To her, Booth was the most honest and loyal person she knew, but despite her usual literalness, this time Brennan didn't believe him. Something in the way he looked at her told her that there would always be another option for them, one that was more than mere partner- or friendship.

She just needed to wait for him.

The barkeeper placed two fresh drinks in front of them, and she nodded her "Thank you".

"Bones?"

By the way he was looking at his glass and not at her face, Brennan could tell that her partner was suddenly nervous again.

"What is it?"

"I've been thinking. I want to thank you somehow... For what you did on Valentine's Day. Is there something I could do that would make you happy?"

For a moment she stared at him with wide eyes while her mind formed several scenarios how exactly Booth could make her very happy. None of them seemed appropriate, though, and she cleared her throat.

"Not necessary. I enjoy whatever we do together. I had a lot of fun myself," she smiled, and for a moment he lost himself in it.

"How did you know it anyway? That I always wanted to shoot a gun like that? Why did you give it to me?"

Suddenly her answer was very important, even though he didn't know if he was truly ready for it.

She hesitated for a heartbeat.

"You want the truth?"

Did he want it?

"Yes. Please," he added.

Taking a deep breath, Brennan twisted her glass in her hands.

"I knew it because... I know you. I gave it to you... Well..."

She stopped, taking another breath to calm her racing heart. Then her crystal blue eyes searched his.

"Do you remember the phone Hannah gave to you?"

'Stupid question,' she thought, and instantly his gaze clouded, as he nodded.

"She asked me about a gift for you, and it seemed reasonable to tell her about the phone. But... ever since I saw the delight in your eyes, I've been asking myself why I didn't give it to you. I still don't know why, but I promised myself to never withhold such a simple pleasure from you again. You are important to me, Booth, and I like giving things to you that make you happy."

She shrugged helplessly.

"Whatever that means... I want to see you smile."

Her confession was followed by silence, but Booth wondered if she could hear the walls inside of him crumbling. Her truth had been so simple, even though there was nothing simple about it.

"Thanks, Bones," he said softly.

Something between them shifted, and suddenly he felt bravery he hadn't experienced for a long while raising its head.

"Hypothetically..."

Her eyes flew to him.

"Hypothetically?"

He nodded, his brown orbs holding her inquiring gaze.

"Can we... Bones, I need to know some things."

"Hypothetically?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Her guts twisted in anxiety, as she awaited his questions.

"Some weeks ago I gave you two options."

She nodded.

"You chose to stay."

One more nod.

"If I had given you another one... would it have led to a different outcome?"

There is was, the moment of truth Brennan had sought and dreaded simultaneously, but she was long past denial.

"Yes."

And he saw it in her eyes.

"If I ever gave you another one... hypothetically..."

"Booth... I'm a scientist, and I know that, logically speaking, my next sentence doesn't make any sense, but... there will always be another option for us because in the end it isn't really our choice."

A tentative finger brushed his hand, and he curled his pinky around it in a gesture that was more a promise than a touch.

"You have changed, Temperance."

"So have you."

With a final caress, he released the warmth of her hand.

"One more drink?"

"Always."

-BONES-

It was the fourth week, and something inside of him was burning again. But this time it wasn't burning in despair.

It was burning with hope.

To be continued...

Intrigued? Give me two weeks to continue this story ;-) Whatever idea the show might come up with, this one will end happy soon.