The heart of the matter

BOOTH

For a long time he must have been staring at the ceiling into the dark while he listened to her quietly sobbing. He didn't want to close his eyes. Somewhere deep inside he knew he was tired, that he had to sleep. But he didn't want to sleep.

She was blaming herself. For something she could not have prevented. This wasn't fair.

A sudden rush of love filled him. Or something close to it. He did not allow himself to call it love. Feelings were too complicated, always too complicated when it came to her.

He would make it right, he swore. Damn Broadsky! How could that bastard Broadsky dare!

He felt angry about himself, too. He should have been able to do more. He should have prevented Vincent's death. They had known Broadsky was dangerous, that he was out of control. He should have taken better precautions. What a soldier he was, huh? In this he had proved as useless as just any of the squints.

Well, what did it all matter now. He could not bring Vincent back. Perhaps, there was a remedy to mend the hole Vincent's final words had carved so deeply into her heart. He should be the one to find it, to make her see that she had gotten those words all wrong. But how?

He wasn't even sure he had found the right words earlier. She did not believe in God. Talking about the universe was not enough either. Not for her. Some things just remained inexplicable. Even to him. Yes, he was ready to admit that it was quite a challenge to believe in God when HE had allowed for a such useless murder to have happened. This day had been a terrible day that might have had even his faith tempted. But then, it was better to believe cruel things happened for some greater reason. He would have faith for both of them. For her, too, when she needed it.

When she had acknowledged that if there had been existing a God then HE should have had let Vincent stay here with them - his heart had skipped a beat. And not just one. Was this his Bones? Her – admitting to even the slightest possibility that God existed?

He had felt – yes – love. It all seemed to come down to that.

They had talked about it. It was a possibility. Maybe one day it would be true – for both of them. Still, he felt he had to forbid himself thinking it was possible to happen. He had had his hopes up before only to end up brokenhearted. ...But then, if he kissed her now would it still alienate her? How much had she changed from the woman he had sought to love two years ago? He hated to face another rejection. But then, she HAD changed. He knew she had.

She wasn't the cold-hearted woman they all doomed her to be – lying here in his arms in the middle of the night crying over the death of her squintern. They were all wrong. All of them. Sweets and all the rest of them. He knew her better. He knew how below her all too rational protective shell lay so much warmth, understanding, compassion. And a deep empathy for those she understood to be suffering. He knew. And his heart grew full of affection knowing it. He only wished he could...

She shifted slightly which interrupted his thoughts. He felt the wet spot on his chest where her tears had moistened through his t-shirt and the warmth of her palm next to where her temple laid against his body.

She sighed. "Booth?"

"Yes?" He gently rubbed her arm while still holding her tight.

"I'm glad you didn't answer that phone call." She eventually said. Her free hand wandered across his chest obliviously petting his t-shirt.

"What?" He felt his blood rush downwards into regions that he did not intend it to go to. Oh God, not now. Silently he recited the names of all the saints he could think of. Okay. Focus. Now.

"I'm glad you didn't pick up the phone but asked Vincent to pick it up." She turned her face looking upwards to him. "I don't think I could bear to live on with you being dead." A tear ran down her cheek. She sighed again her hand still gently stroking him.

"Bones." He uttered hoarsely. He wasn't sure what he was more irritated about, her face being so close to his or her inadvertently proclaiming what she had just said which sounded so wrong – morally, at least - but yet so sweet, such a confession right out of her mouth. He understood her. He knew exactly how she meant things, how the world worked for her. He could not deny – obviously he was in love.

He had been angry. Very angry. He had told her so. He had tried to get away from her. Several times. But now, he was in love with her again. Now more than ever. He wasn't sure how to cope with it. Not yet.

She looked puzzled for a slight moment. Then a revelation struck her. "...Oh...That..., that came out very wrong, didn't it? … At least the part about Vincent... I did not mean to say that I'm happy that Vincent has died. I merely wanted to express, that I..."

"I know." He said and cleared his throat feeling that his voice still sounded much too hoarse and lacked strength. Again, he fought the sudden desire to kiss her. But he did not dare to spoil this moment. Her in his arms – if that was all he was going to get tonight he would be content. For anything more she had to be the one to come forward first. But then, surely this wasn't the right time and place. So soon after Vincent's death. "I'm glad, too, that I'm still alive. ...To be able to, you know, solve murder cases with you... And catch the bad guys out there..." He attempted a smile. Then he shed a glance at his weapon lying on his bedside table. Yes, he would be ready to protect her when Broadsky made his move. This time he would not meet Broadsky unprepared. He would hunt him down. He would get his revenge. He would make it all right.

Thinking about Broadsky was good. It helped him focus. It helped him to stay angry.

"We are a good team. You and me. In the end we get them all." The hint of a smile flashed her face and he felt her usual self-confidence had returned. He was glad. This was his Bones. The one he knew so well. The one he...

"Thank you." She said, her hand gently petted his right arm. "...Thank you for being there for me. You know, like now. When I'm scared. Or upset. You are always there for me." She moved up a bit closer to meet his face. "You are a good partner. A good friend..." She hesitated. He felt she wanted to say more but then she didn't.

He felt his blood stir again. To his embarrassment he wasn't sure if this time she could have missed it.

"Did your male parts just..."

"No. They didn't." He quickly insisted. Naming it did not make things any better. Oh God.

"Oh – ho" She chuckled. "Yes, they did."

He pretended to clear his throat, lingering. But obviously, there was no way out of this. Not when it came to her scientific way of clinging onto facts anyway. He sighed. "Well, if they did - maybe it is because my er... 'male parts'... are irritated that half of you is lying on top of them."

"Oh." She just said. Then nothing for a short while. "I could go back onto the couch if the physical contact makes you feel uncomfortable." She almost moved to get up.

"No!" He held her tight. He was beyond confusion now about what he really wanted. All he knew was that he didn't want her to leave either. "Bones, look..." He didn't know how to say this right. "You're a beautiful woman," he continued. He was forced to clear his throat again. "...And me – being a man – of course, I, ..." Oh, this felt just like it came out all so wrong. Damn. "Well, I am attracted to a..., to..."

"Booth. I understand," she interrupted, her face barely an inch away from his. "Today has been very stressful. You could have easily been the one that was shot."

He was surprised. But he understood why she had to deal with it all in her detached scientific way. But, she was wrong. She was strong. If he had been the one that was killed today she would have coped. He – in turn – was the one that would have gone mad – losing her. He could not bear to think of it, knowing what both of them today had come so close to losing.

He was a gambler. Still. He had to push things forward. He had to try. They might not have too much time left together. Tomorrow he had to go after Broadsky. They both knew the danger. Broadsky would kill him when given the chance.

"I don't wanna have any regrets, Bones." His voice was hoarse again. To full with emotion.

"I don't know what that means." She said, her deep blue eyes faithfully clinging onto his dark ones, waiting for him to explain.

"There were so many things we let pass by. ...So many things that we didn't do …"

"Like, sleeping together..." She chipped in.

"And tomorrow, or actually today, in a few hours I will have to go after Broadsky and..." He stopped, realizing what she had just said. "What?"

"We never slept with each other." she emphasized.

Her words lingered. Time and space between them felt suspended to him. His blood rushed through him again. Desire tingled all over his body. He did not yet trust to believe it to be true. "Do you want us to sleep with each other?" He finally asked in total amazement.

"Yes." Her answer came quick and in all earnest.

He did not expect it. Even now, he still did not. "Now?" He asked. Confused. Expecting from her a "no" which would postpone things again to an indefinite time. They had done that before. Agreed that eventually things were bound to happen between them, just not at that point, or any foreseeable point in the near future.

"Yes." She said again.

A split of a second her "yes" knocked him off track. All he then managed was to utter her name. "Bones." His name for her.

He wanted to smile. Wanted to do anything to reassure her. But he couldn't find how to do it. Emotions flushed through him. Seven years. Eight almost. They should have done this seven years ago. Now he felt nervous overstepping that boundary.

She waited for him to make the move. He felt she was nervous, too.

"Well, we already talked about doing it... And we both agreed that it would be quite satisfying if we did it. We're very compatible... sexually." The hint of a smile caressed her face.

He was lost. "Bones." He whispered her name again. Still, he did not move, such was his state of disbelief. Her lips were barely half an inch away from his now, tempting. He could not explain what held him back.

"You do not wanna have intercourse with me..?" She asked, hesitantly, bewildered.

The disappointment in her voice shocked him. No! He did. She got it all wrong.

"Bones, ...it's not that I don't..., well I..." His mouth felt all dry. God, he wanted so much to say the right thing. What made it so hard? All he wanted was to love her. "I wanna make love with you." His voice cracked.

He looked into her eyes. He was ready to risk his heart again. Yet a part of him deep down inside still needed to be assured she was ready to risk hers too. "It's just..." He hesitated. Something in him demanded her to be sure about this. "...We're talking about M-A-K-I-N-G L-O-V-E here, right? There will be no going back once we've crossed that line."

"I don't wanna go back." She said. "You told me that two people can break the law of physics, can occupy the same space at the same time... I wanna try that, I wanna understand how that is possible."

His fingers reached for her face. "Right," he said. The anticipation made them tremble. The prospect of of finally, finally – after all those years they knew each other – making love to her. Getting emotionally and physically involved with her still seemed much too incredible to him. The thought of it was overwhelming. She'd given him permission. She was ready to drop all her defenses – for him. She was his. Finally. God.

"Well?" She said impatiently. "Traditionally, at this point – the male would engage in taking the lead, by kissing and petting the female – thus stimulating her to become aroused sufficiently to agree to later participate in the actual act of copulation... If you feel uncomfortable with that I could take the lead ..."

Finally he pulled her close. No more words. They were not needed. His lips soughed hers. He tasted her. Deep. Demanding. Not like any of the kisses they had ever shared before. They didn't need to say it. He knew now what he wanted. Right now – he wanted her.

This was better than any dream, any imagination. This was real. He wouldn't stop. He didn't need oxygen. Not yet, not for a while.

He turned her around, ended up on top of her. His hands stroke through her hair, caressed her face. He covered her with more kisses. In between two kisses eventually he allowed for a moment for their lips to part. "I like the traditional way." He said content, happy.

His lips found her again. Her cheek, the lobe of her ear, then working their way down her throat. He felt her shiver. Good. He wanted to give her pleasure.

She tugged his shirt and he obliged and took it off. His hands in turn found her warm skin underneath the sweatshirt which he had borrowed her. It wasn't needed, not right now.

He'd touched her a thousand times. Hugged her. Even kissed her. But never like this. For a moment he halted. She did not wear anything underneath the sweatshirt. Feveredly he pulled off the sweatshirt and took in her beauty. He'd never seen her naked. "You're beautiful." He whispered against her skin, then started to kiss her all over again.

"I know" she replied. It almost made him laugh. His Bones. So true to herself.

"You're very pleasing to look at, too." She said. He felt her hands wandering over his body, examining him.

He had no doubt she would catalogue every inch, every bone of his body. He would let her. He took in the sensations her fingers left wherever they touched his skin. He loved her. It was much too soon. Yet still he knew he did.

She demanded the lead. He let her have it, rolled on his back, pulled her on top of him. She bent down. Her lips found his. He remembered them in his coma dream. Had it been anything like this?

Slow, he thought, they had to go slow. He wanted this to never end. His urge to make love to her right away was strong. He hadn't slept with any woman since his breakup with Hannah. He had not wanted to. He had not felt he needed it. But now, with her in his arms, her kisses hot and greedy on his skin – a celibate man of several months could not respond to that with patience.

They took off each others remaining clothes. Giggling. Content. Aroused. Something had changed tonight. Something between them. It was too soon to name it. There would be time for talk later. For now, the physical urge demanded to be fulfilled.

He slept with her. Afterwards he would not recall it in too much detail. He felt in a state of trance. It was beyond what he'd imagined it to be like. Being that close to her. Finally, making love, occupying that same space – with HER.

He recalled commanding himself to go slow. The months of celibacy urged for release. Yet, he wanted to go at her pace. He needed to be the one – of all her lovers – to give her the utmost pleasure.

It didn't take them very long. There would be another time for making love slowly, gently. A time to linger.

But not tonight. Tonight two bodies became one, occupying the same space with a need for urgency. Too much time had been lost already. He never wanted this to end. But then he felt her shiver with pleasure and he let go.

He collapsed next to her, breathless, exhausted. Happy.

For a minute neither of them moved.

"That was extremely satisfying." She then declared.

Somewhere in the state of exhaustion into which he had drifted he realized he was glad. Of course, past girlfriends had attested him to be a skilled lover. But this was different. Things were always different with Bones. Something inside him longed for her approval.

He let out a grunting sound, not ready to leave his state of exhaustion yet. He could have stayed like this forever, he smiled.

She chuckled.

"What?" He replied weakly, fearing that Bones was not the one to let him linger in this state of bliss for much longer.

"Total exhaustion in the male would suggest it's been a while since..."

He sighed. "I haven't slept with anyone since Hannah." It was not a topic he liked to discuss, let alone to have her execute a scientific evaluation about it.

Hannah. Somehow he wished he hadn't mentioned her, hadn't said out aloud her name. At least not now. Not at this moment.

He almost feared the magic spell of the last hour could be broken. He had to preserve it. It had taken them years to come this far. Now they couldn't go back. Or could they?

He had to fight his fears, make sure her heart was his. At least he couldn't go back and he didn't want to. With Bones things were different, though. What if she wanted to go back to 'just being partners' tomorrow? He couldn't bear it.

"Bones." He silently bid goodbye to his desire to linger in this state of complete physical exhaustion any longer, "Tonight..., this... means something, right? I..., I didn't sleep with any woman since..., well, ...for me, sleeping with a woman, making love, ...it HAS TO MEAN something. I didn't want to sleep with anyone else. I..., I wanted that person to be you..."

There. It was out. Still, the fear lingered. He touched her face, gently brushed away a strand of hair. She was beautiful. She was so beautiful tonight. He took all his courage. "This isn't a one-night-stand, right? We won't go back after tonight? Because..., because I can't. I can't do that again."

"You can't sleep with me again?" Confusion lay in her blue eyes.

"Bones, what I mean is, I, ...I can't make love to you without completely losing my heart to you again."

Memories of that night outside at the Reflecting Pool came to his mind. Their misguided conversation. His confession that he loved her. Her rejection. Her painful words.

He sighed again. He had to know. "You told me once before that you don't want me to love you. But I will not be able to help it, not if we continue to sleep with each other. I can't have the one without the other." His heart lay bare, open. Now it lay in her power to love it or crush it.

"No. I have changed Booth. I have become quite strong. I told you I would." She took the hand that still caressed her face and kissed it.

"You have." He felt happiness spread through him and smiled. Then he kissed her. Long. Deep. As if to prove that things definitely had changed between them. He needed to touch her, needed to feel she was real, she was his.

"Booth?" She asked and he stopped to kiss her seeing her frown.

"What is it?"

She hesitated for a moment. "I do not completely understand the feeling, ...but I think I am in love with you Booth." Her hand brushed his shoulder, his arm. Her frown then became deeper. "What if I do not know how to have a REAL relationship? What if I am not good at being in love with one person permanently...? I am not sure I..."

God, he loved her so much. Enough to brush away all her doubts with another kiss. This time soft and gentle. She obliged him and waves of rekindled desire passed through him. "Don't worry, I am gonna teach you everything there is to know..." He whispered and then slowly, unwillingly fought against his desire to make love to her again. He caught the time on the alarm clock. They both would be spent in the morning. In roughly 2 hours they would need to get up again. There was no way around that. With Broadsky still out there it wasn't the best time to be careless.

"We should get some sleep." He said but moved no more than an inch away from her.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I am keeping you from your sleep. But you need to get Broadsky tomorrow..., today." She corrected herself and rose.

Confused he grabbed her hand. "Where are you going?"

"Onto the couch." Still naked she was looking around for her clothes.

"What! Why?" He was flabbergasted. What was happening?

"Well, you need your sleep. And I will go back onto the couch so as not to detain you any longer..." She moved to leave the bed but he held her back.

A thought dawned on him. Jesus. "Oh, no, no, no, no. I meant we should get some sleeep, here, together, in this bed." He still needed to adjust to how literally she took everything. He hadn't meant for her to leave. "The bed is much more confortable than the terrible couch. And it is certainly big enough for two people." First lesson – lovers slept in the same bed.

"But the couch was fine. And I don't mind sleeping on the couch." Now she appeared to be the puzzled one.

"But I do mind. I want you here, with me, in my arms. Come here." He smiled when she moved back beside him. Back where she belonged. "It's the safest place. Broadsky will have to get past me to get to you..." He patted on the pillow next to his indicating to her to lie down again.

"Booth," she however still remained sitting, "why did you let me sleep on the couch when it wasn't as safe as the bed?" She looked at him questioningly.

He went hot. He would never ever have endangered her safety. If there had been the smallest doubt, he... It took him a moment to grasp her way of thinking. How she had meant it. Of course, for her it was a question of logic, she had not meant it as any kind of accusation. God, they still would have a long way to go to learn to understand each other.

"Bones," his voice was full with love now and almost hoarse, "I couldn't ask you to stay over at my place and then expect us to sleep in the same bed, now could I?" Even if I had wanted to – he added silently to himself. It didn't matter now. He now had more than he'd ever dreamt of.

"Yes. That would have been weird." She acknowledged. "...But I can see why you would want me to stay with you in your bed now." She smiled, finally moving to lie down with him again.

He put his arm around her. Her head rested against his shoulder. He kissed her bare shoulder, took in her scent. She soon drifted into sleep, he listened to her even breaths. "I needed you to come to me," he whispered against her hair. And then, "I love you."

Maybe it was too soon. But it was the truth. And no matter what tomorrow would bring, whether tomorrow Broadsky killed him or not, at least for tonight he was the happiest of all men.