In between the bedroom action we didn't see and the sending off of Mr. Nigel Murray, I believe there was a conversation we also didn't get to witness. Something that solidified our dynamic duo as something more than they'd been before. This is about that. Special thanks to the lovely Baileyjane and the incomparable Eitoph. Their comments and suggestions made this story infinitely better.

The Wait

She'd been waiting three hours.

In truth she would have waited all day.

Because in the grand scheme of seven years these few hours were of little cost.

She'd known he wouldn't be in his office. Agent Shaw had informed her that there had been gunfire, that Broadsky was wounded, but that Booth was fine. She had known Booth would go with Broadsky to wherever they took him to tend to his wound. There would be booking and processing and interviewing and paperwork. All of it incredibly time consuming.

She would wait.

Somewhere inside she knew that it was irrational, this need to see him. Logically, she knew he was fine. He'd told Agent Shaw to call her. He'd made sure she'd known he was alright. She tried to convince herself that she'd have been sitting in his office, waiting to see him, regardless of what had happened the night before.

She wasn't really sure that was true. She'd spent a lot of years, a lot of energy, tempering her reactions to be "appropriate" or "partner like."

But everything was different now. And based on that, she had decided to assume that her reaction, her need, was an acceptable new reality. She decided, perhaps for the first time ever, to ignore that scientific voice in her head that warned her not to jump to conclusions.

Because the other voice in her head, the one that screamed "I must see Booth," was just louder than anything else.

This was all new for her. She didn't know what to think or how to feel or what came next.

So she sat and waited because she just didn't know what else to do.

She'd tried, of course, to do other things. She'd spent thirty three minutes trying to complete paperwork, another forty seven minutes in Bone Storage and yet another seventeen minutes with Angela, trying to explain why it simply wasn't rational to go over to the Hoover and wait for Booth.

"But you want to go."

"It makes no logical sense, Ange. Booth isn't even there."

"But that's where he'll go next, right? The first place he'll be when he's finished with Broadsky?"

"Yes."

"And you want to be there when he gets there."

"Yes, but…"

"No buts, Sweetie. You were worried about him today. Last night upped the stakes. It's okay for you to want to see him as soon as you can. I'm sure he wants to see you, too."

"Why? I wasn't in danger."

"Because he loves you, Brennan."

"I…"

Angela hadn't let her go on. "Even if you don't want to think of it that way, this case took its toll on us all. He was friends with Broadsky once, right?"

"That's true."

"So this is probably hard on him."

"You might be right."

"You should be there to comfort him."

"In case he feels bad."

"And because you love him, too."

"Angela…"

Her friend held up one finger. "Don't. Believe whatever you want, but go, Brennan. Be there."

It really hadn't taken much convincing.

She'd closed the blinds and cursed the see through glass door when she'd arrived. She really didn't want anyone to know she was there. She just wanted to wait, in peace, to see Booth, so that she could begin to breathe normally again. She knew a few agents had seen her go in. She imagined that after a while they would assume she had left. It wouldn't be rational for them to think she was still in there after three hours.

Three hours.

Seven years and three hours.

And she would wait hours more if she needed to. It couldn't be quantified, but in some odd way it made sense to her that she was sitting there. It was…the right place to be. She couldn't say how or why, but it felt much like the first time she'd walked onto the platform at the Jeffersonian. There had been a shift inside her and something had clicked. She was supposed to be there, much as she was supposed to be in Booth's office now.

She'd stationed herself in a chair in a corner, out of eye line from the door. Brennan wasn't one who had trouble waiting. Sitting and waiting drove Booth crazy, but she could sit and wait with no entertainment at all.

Especially when there was so much to think about.

She'd thought a lot over the last twenty four hours. She'd thought and thought and thought the night before until she'd just needed some answers or at least, some sort of relief. So she'd turned to the person she had always turned to.

Booth.

What she hadn't thought was that it would turn into more than any comfort they'd given and received before. He somehow always made her feel better, from the steps of the courthouse to the burial of her almost dog, Booth always seemed to know what she needed to hear, when a hug needed to be given.

This time had been no exception. He'd held her tightly as she'd cried. He'd had no profound answers, really, other than that Vincent was most certainly not talking to her. But he'd wrapped her up in his arms, whispered words of comfort and she'd just let it all out until there was nothing left.

Well, almost nothing.

When he'd run out of words and the sobbing continued, he'd dropped a light kiss in her hair. Intuitively, without out any thought at all, she'd turned further into him, wrapping one arm around him.

There had been a change in the air right then, another of those rare moments when she'd felt a distinct shift and click. He'd felt it too.

And so it had begun.

Or maybe it wasn't the beginning. They'd been on this journey together for a while. Sometimes she'd been one step behind, sometimes he'd veered off to the side, but maybe, just maybe this wasn't the start, but the middle. Or a new direction.

They hadn't really talked about it in the morning. They'd talked about other things; breakfast options, the plan to capture Broadsky, whether or not Brennan herself should contact Vincent's parents, but the unspoken words hung in the air too, not heavy, like burdens, but lightly, like balloons that needed be grabbed onto and tied down to something solid.

"So, uh, we should probably talk about this." He'd said in the car on the way to the lab.

"But not now." She'd known.

"No. Not now. I have to focus. I can't…I can't think beyond Broadsky."

"Of course."

"It means something, though, okay? We will talk about it."

"Yes. After you get Broadsky."

"Yeah. After I get Broadsky."

He'd glanced over at her, and she'd smiled at him.

He'd smiled back.

They'd be okay. Whatever this was, whatever it meant, they'd be okay.

So she waited, so lost in her own thoughts that she startled a little when her phone rang.

"Brennan."

"Where are you?"

"Booth! I'm…" she suddenly felt a bit sheepish. "I'm in your office."

"I thought I heard your ring tone when I called," he said, coming around the corner into the room. He hit the disconnect button. "Hi." He said softly.

She disconnected too and stood, suddenly uncertain. "Hi." Her voice seemed to have left her and her greeting came out more quietly than she'd meant for it to.

The bullpen was empty, save an agent or two, but he shut the door behind him, unwilling to compromise this moment. "I was going to call to see if you'd meet me."

"I've been here a while. I just…" She stopped herself, redirected her words. "You got Broadsky."

"Yeah." He took a step forward, closer to her.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm better now." He answered pointedly.

She nodded. "Me too."

Once, in an airport, just about a year before, he'd stood close and grabbed her hand. Back then she'd been all at once hopeful and fearful that he would pull her into him. Now, as he grabbed her hand and pulled her in, she was just thankful.

He was alive.

Alive and safely with her.

And not just with her.

With her.

She circled her arms around his waist, and though she would normally reach his shoulder, she positioned herself against his chest and he dropped another of his kisses into her hair.

"Eighty" she said after a while.

"What?"

She pulled back and looked up into his face. "Eighty. You heart is beating at eighty beats per minute."

"Is that good?" He smiled at her gathering of proof that he was really alright.

"Yes. Perhaps a bit elevated for someone as physically fit as you, but the events of the past two days are the likely reason."

"Bones, if my heart is beating faster than normal, it has nothing to do with Broadsky." He half joked, and all the words that hadn't been said that morning were on deck now.

She swallowed and nodded, not sure what to say, but absolutely certain she should say something.

"I've been here for over three hours."

He blinked, looked confused, so she said what she'd been about to say when he first came through his office door. "I just needed to see you as soon as I could. Logically I knew you were fine, but I just…I needed to see you." She couldn't convey what she wanted, but she hoped he understood.

He did. "I needed to see you too." He confessed, still standing with his arms around her.

She smiled and he felt like the sun rose in his chest.

"You did?" She was awed.

"I did." He put his hand to her face, stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"I'm not impervious anymore, Booth."

"I never really thought you were, Bones."

"Are you…angry, still?"

"No." It came out in a whisper. "Far from it."

"Okay." She responded, as if that was all there was to say.

"Okay?"

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm ready to try us. To give this a shot." She spoke his own words back to him.

"I'm not. I'm not giving this a shot."

She stepped back out of his arms as if he'd struck her.

"What I mean is," he scrambled quickly to recover her trust. "I'm not just giving this a shot. I'm not trying. We're not a recipe to test out. We're not a scientific experiment. I'm not trying this. I'm doing this. With you. As long as you'll have me." He grabbed her hand again. "What do you say?"

But she couldn't say anything. All she could do was nod.

"That's a yes?"

"Yes." She croaked out and, as he broke out in his trademarked grin, she smiled back and said it again, stronger this time. "Yes."

He stepped forward and kissed her then and she kissed him back with everything that she had. It was a combination of newness, of awe, of sweetness, of love, of friendship, of promises, of past, of present, and of future.

She'd waited three hours.

Seven years and three hours.

She broke the kiss first, just to look at him; to take in his face, to remember everything about this moment.

He smiled again. "I can't believe I get to do that."

"Neither can I." She answered honestly. But there was still real life to tend to, however difficult it was, however strong the desire to pretend everything was fine now. "We're saying goodbye to Vincent tonight. We can release his body now. The hearse…the hearse is coming at nine."

"God, Bones." He took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry he got mixed up in this."

She nodded, mute now for a different reason and he hugged her tightly.

"I've got some things I have to finish here, but I'll be there, okay?"

"Thank you." She said, quietly but fiercely into his shoulder as she returned his embrace.

" Of course."

"I have some errands I should run before then." She stepped out of his arms reluctantly, but then thought better of being reluctant. She could hold him, be held by him, whenever she wanted now and she wondered if she would ever get used to that. "I'll see you at nine? The loading dock in the back of the lab."

"I'll be there." he promised, watching her as she collected her bag and coat before she went to the door.

She turned back, almost shyly. "Bye, Booth. I'll see you in a while."

He wanted to kiss her goodbye, but he wanted to play by her rules too, let her lead a little. "I'll see you in a little bit, Bones."

" Okay." She gave one last small smile and walked away.

There might be more. I honestly can't decide if I want to address events after VNM's send off in this fic or another. Feel free to tell me what you think about that.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are appreciated.