Bones fic: The Break in the Heart (post-ep 5X16)
For a time there were only small sounds between them as they crossed the mercifully-deserted mall: the metronomic click of her heels, faint splashes from stepped-in puddles, the rustle of fabric on fabric, and the gradual slowing to normal of their breathing. Her arm was hooked through his, her hand's grip on his forearm still retaining its panicked tightness; he could feel the weight of her head against his shoulder, feel her tears still soaking into his shirt, feel the silk of her hair against his own damp cheek. They walked on and he had no idea where they were going. The chasm between where they'd been an hour ago and this place was immeasurably vast.
He'd gambled, and seen the wreckage of his fortune in Brennan's terrified eyes. Status quo had long since ceased being enough for him, but apparently the idea of changing it was too much for her to bear. I can't change, she'd said; I don't know how--which was closer to the truth, though of course she had already changed, far more than she realized. He knew her well enough to know the source of her fear--Hell, he even shared it to some extent; their friendship, their relationship, was already a precious thing to him, and the thought of losing it scared him too. But the thought of walking away from everything else he knew they could be to each other, that was worse, and he'd had to try. And now she held tight to him as though letting go meant losing everything, and he didn't have the strength to push her away. He'd told her he had to move on, but it was a mostly hollow threat; she consumed him so completely there would be very little room for anyone else for a very long time.
They reached the end of the concourse and he steered her, with infinite gentleness, back in the direction of the Hoover Building's parking garage. "Come on," he murmured, into the crown of her head, "let's get you home. It's getting late." Her hand instantly tightened around his wrist, and she raised her head so quickly he had to jerk back to avoid a collision of her skull and his nose.
"No. Booth, I--"
"Bones, it's all right. Look, let's just--let's just table the discussion for now, okay? Now was not the right time. I shouldn't have let Sweets goad me like that. I just--"
"I'm sorry," she blurted, stopping dead and pulling him around to face her. "Oh, God, Booth, I'm so sorry."
"So am I, but we'll get past this. We will. Hey." He lifted her chin, looked deep into her streaming eyes, and wondered dimly how the hell he was managing to comfort her when everything inside him felt like shattered glass. "Hey, Bones. We're the center, remember? And--"
"--the center must hold," she finished for him, in as small and shaky a voice as he'd ever heard from her. He nodded, accepting her into his arms as she collapsed back into him.
"We will," he said again, and she startled him by raising up and kissing him--not passionately as she once had, or desperately as he had earlier kissed her, but firmly, decisively, as one might to seal a deal. Which, he realized, was exactly what she was doing.
"We will," she echoed, stepping back from the embrace. Falling into step beside him, her hand found his and twined their fingers together. "We will hold."
He'd gambled, and seen the wreckage of his fortune in Brennan's terrified eyes. Status quo had long since ceased being enough for him, but apparently the idea of changing it was too much for her to bear. I can't change, she'd said; I don't know how--which was closer to the truth, though of course she had already changed, far more than she realized. He knew her well enough to know the source of her fear--Hell, he even shared it to some extent; their friendship, their relationship, was already a precious thing to him, and the thought of losing it scared him too. But the thought of walking away from everything else he knew they could be to each other, that was worse, and he'd had to try. And now she held tight to him as though letting go meant losing everything, and he didn't have the strength to push her away. He'd told her he had to move on, but it was a mostly hollow threat; she consumed him so completely there would be very little room for anyone else for a very long time.
They reached the end of the concourse and he steered her, with infinite gentleness, back in the direction of the Hoover Building's parking garage. "Come on," he murmured, into the crown of her head, "let's get you home. It's getting late." Her hand instantly tightened around his wrist, and she raised her head so quickly he had to jerk back to avoid a collision of her skull and his nose.
"No. Booth, I--"
"Bones, it's all right. Look, let's just--let's just table the discussion for now, okay? Now was not the right time. I shouldn't have let Sweets goad me like that. I just--"
"I'm sorry," she blurted, stopping dead and pulling him around to face her. "Oh, God, Booth, I'm so sorry."
"So am I, but we'll get past this. We will. Hey." He lifted her chin, looked deep into her streaming eyes, and wondered dimly how the hell he was managing to comfort her when everything inside him felt like shattered glass. "Hey, Bones. We're the center, remember? And--"
"--the center must hold," she finished for him, in as small and shaky a voice as he'd ever heard from her. He nodded, accepting her into his arms as she collapsed back into him.
"We will," he said again, and she startled him by raising up and kissing him--not passionately as she once had, or desperately as he had earlier kissed her, but firmly, decisively, as one might to seal a deal. Which, he realized, was exactly what she was doing.
"We will," she echoed, stepping back from the embrace. Falling into step beside him, her hand found his and twined their fingers together. "We will hold."