Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seeley Booth was running late. He shouldn't even be here at the airport, but he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to his partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. Not when she's about to leave for the Macapoopoo or Malulu or whatever they're called islands for a year. Not when he knows how she tends to get herself in trouble. Not when he's not there to protect her. 

A wave of relief washes over him when he sees her. She's looking down at her bags, probably triple-checking she has everything. Eventually, she looks up and spots him, doing a double-take before making her way towards him despite the objections from Daisy Wick, the intern accompanying her on her year-long trip.

“Hey,” He says softly, holding his arms behind his back, as if to keep himself from reaching out and holding her. “Sorry, couldn't get a pass. I had to sneak off the base to come say goodbye.” There's a heavy silence between them, but Booth doesn't let it last too long. “Listen, Bones.” 

Brennan interrupts him. “Booth, wait!” She plants her hands on his chest, and Booth’s whole body freezes up. This feels way too intimate, and his heart has already broken for her; he doesn't need this added to it. “I'm in love with you!” It comes out as a whisper, so subtle he's not sure he heard her right. 

“What?” 

He watches the woman he's in love with, his partner, his Bones, take a deep breath before repeating those five beautiful words. “I'm in love with you.” Her voice is strong and firm; there's no mistaking it for anything else.

Booth tries to keep his heart in check, tries not to get his hopes up that this is true. Then their surroundings hit him again. He's dressed in his army uniform, standing in the airport, about to say goodbye to his partner for the next year. He lets out a breathy laugh, not because this situation is at all funny but because of the opposite.

“You're in-” He cuts himself off from asking the words directly. “You're serious?” 

“Yes.” Again, her answer is firm and final. “I wouldn't do that to you, Booth. I know I might not be that humorous or understand certain practical jokes, but even I know taking back a love confession is going too far.” Her palms against his chest turn into white knuckle fists on his uniform, as if she's holding onto him and not wanting to let go.

Booth blinks rapidly, trying to keep the tears he feels coming along at bay. He feels pathetic, but he's been waiting five years for Brennan to see him the way he sees her. So he owns his patheticness and flashes his charming smile to ask for something selfish. “Say it again, please?” 

Brennan cocks her head to the side, giving him a look to ask, “really?” Booth just keeps on smiling, finally releasing his hands from their grip behind his back. After a bit of a staring contest, the corner of Brennan's mouth quirks up. She looks down at his name over his right chest pocket, tracing the letters with a finger before matching her beautiful blue eyes to his. 

“Seeley Booth,” She starts. “I, Dr. Temperance Brennan, am in love with you. I think I have been for a while now, but I've just been too scared to let myself feel it.” This time, it's her eyes that go glassy from tears, and Booth can't take it anymore. He grabs her jaw with one of his hands while the other finds a resting spot on one of her hips. Brennan’s breath shakes a bit. 

“As soon as you left that night after you confessed how you felt about me, I went home and I cried. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I didn't do anything but relive that moment over and over again and think about how I should've said yes.” The first few tears fall, and Booth quickly swipes them away with his thumb, listening to her speak without interrupting. “And then the week after, when you were pretending to be my husband and defending me to all my former classmates. I tried to imagine it was real, but when we solved the case and came back home, you went out with that marine biologist, and I went out with Andrew. All I could do was think of you on that date. I wished it were you.” 

She looks like she has more to say, but Booth is aware of the time they have left. He can see Daisy tapping her foot and looking at her watch over Brennan's shoulder, and he should definitely get back to base before anyone notices how long he's been gone.

“Bones, you have really bad timing, you know that?” He takes a step closer, bringing his other hand up to her jaw so he's cradling her in both hands. “Couldn't you have done this like a week ago?” 

Brennan wraps her arms around Booth’s back, the movement pressing their fronts together in a way that makes Booth want to abandon his duty and run away with her. 

“I didn't realize it until I saw you just now.” She swallows a lump in her throat. “I was thinking about you and then here you were and I realized I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you or me and I never got to tell you.” 

Booth lets out a humorless chuckle again and wraps his arms around his partner in a deep embrace. He holds her head to his chest with one of his hands, not wanting to let go.

Still holding her, he goes into what he wanted to say before she interrupted him. “Listen, Bones, you gotta be really careful in that Indonesian jungle, okay?” 

Brennan pulls away with a concerned furrow in her brows. “Booth, in a week, you're going to a war zone.” She reaches up and places one of her soft hands on his cheek, studying his face and tracing his bone structure. “Please don't be a hero.” She begs. “Please just… don't be you.” 

He can't hold back anymore. He can't keep himself from taking what he wants anymore, so he closes the distance between them and matches his mouth with hers. It's soft at first, tender and hesitant, but then she kisses him back. She opens her mouth and matches her tongue with his, and Booth explodes with awe and wonder and love. He savors this moment, savors the feeling of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against his own, the hunger he can sense in the way she won't let him go, not even when both of them are struggling for air. 

Eventually, they have to pull away, their chests heaving from the lack of oxygen, lips red and swollen, and eyes looking dark with their pupils blown. 

“One year from today,” He starts looking deeply into Brennan's eyes. “We meet at the reflecting pool on the mall. Right by the-” 

She finishes the sentence for him. “Coffee cart. I know.” A soft smile appears on her lips. “One year from today.” 

“I'm in love with you, Temperance Brennan, and one year from today won't change that fact.” Booth takes a few steps away from her but laces their hands together just to hold her for a few moments more. “I hope that in that time you will still love me.” 

“Of course, I will, Booth. You're the only man I've ever loved, ever will love.” She squeezes his hand. “One year from today, at the coffee cart, we will see each other again, and we will try this out. We will be what we have always been, but more.” 

“Fuck!” He swears, losing his control and pulling her into another hug. “I'm going to miss you, Bones.” 

“I'll miss you, too, Booth.” She relaxes into his embrace. “But we can still keep in touch. I've been told that there will be a satellite phone in the Maluku islands, or we could always write letters.” 

“Letters?” It sounds old-fashioned and romantic and exactly the type of thing he wants to share with the love of his life. “Yeah, we can write letters.” 

“Good, I'm looking forward to it.” They pull away and rest their foreheads against each other.

“One year.” 

“One year.” She pulls away, but not before placing one final kiss on Booth’s lips, and not before Booth plants a lingering kiss on her forehead.

He watches her walk away for just a second, pulling her suitcase back to the line of their awestruck friends, but then he can't take it anymore. He has to turn around and march right out the doors, only looking back once to find her already doing the same. He mouths the words “one year” again and watches her laugh once before nodding. Then he turns away again and makes his way back to base to prepare for Afghanistan, where he will spend the next year writing letters and thinking about how much he loves Dr. Temperance Brennan.

Chapter Text

Booth, 

I figured, because you were the first to say “I love you,” that I should be the first to write a letter. Of course, there is a possibility that by the time this reaches you, you might have already written to me yourself. In any case, you must know this was my intention. This is me trying to make up for lost time with a “romantic gesture,” even though they are not my strong suit, and I do not know if I am doing this right.

I have never written a love letter to anyone, so please forgive me if it is not up to your expectations. That being said, I will try my best to succeed. You know more than anyone how much I hate to fail. 

Seeley Booth, you are someone I cannot live without. I find myself unable to be rid of you, even when I tried so hard to keep these feelings a secret from both myself and from you. But after saying the words out loud to you in the airport, I find myself wanting to say them over and over again.

I love you. I'm in love with you. And I wish you were here with me, Booth. 

The islands here are beautiful, which I know you would appreciate me writing to you about, over the historical and anthropological viewing of them, I myself find fascinating and important. Ms. Wick and I are making slow progress, which is to be expected, seeing as it is only the first week of being out in the jungle. One of the downsides of sharing a tent with her is that she will not stop talking about missing her dear “Lancelot,” nor will she stop asking about the two of us, and that moment we shared in the airport.

Whenever she brings that up, I find myself focusing solely on that moment. It was a great kiss. In fact, the word great doesn't feel as if it can adequately describe it. I am sure I could list a bunch of synonymous words that would do it justice, but I will not bore you with that. 

Instead, I will tell you that if I think about that kiss too long, how you held me, how you looked at me, how I looked at you, or how you responded when our tongues matched, it makes me feel the need to kick Ms. Wick out of the tent and send her off on some miniscule task just so I can be alone with my thoughts of you.

I know you do not like to talk about sex, but I feel the need to tell you that I'm thinking of you, and I never want to stop thinking of you. I can almost picture your face flushing and you checking over your shoulder to see if anyone is reading these words, which causes me to smile just at the thought.

I love you. I'm in love with you, Seeley Booth. I will never love someone as much as I love you.

Only three hundred fifty-seven days until our year is up. 

Write back soon.

Love, Bones. 

~~~

Temperance,

You really should warn a guy when you write about the stuff you said. You toyed with my emotions, making me feel one thing after the other. It was the best kind of whiplash a guy could have, and I assure you, your intentions of wanting to be the one to write the first letter are clear and understood.

As for the first love letter, if I were to give you a grade, it would be an A+++++. I know, I know, there is no such thing as that grade, but you, Bones, you deserve for the whole system to rework itself around you. 

I'm sorry this has probably taken a lot longer than you expected. There's a lot of training and drills to do around here, and I haven't had much time to write back, and when I have had time, I find myself starting over so much that it just never gets done. I haven't written a love letter to anyone either, and you deserve one of value, one that gives you as much hope and shows my love as yours did for me. So I'm sorry if this doesn't meet your standards, but please know I'm trying my best. 

I guess I should say this…

I'm in love with you, Temperance Brennan. But I don't wish you were here with me because I'd be terrified you'd find a way to get yourself in trouble, and I would never see you again. But I love you, and I really, really, really miss you.

I know I'm laying it on pretty thick with all the reallys, but I have been waiting for this moment for five years. I wasn't kidding about that talk we had outside the Hoover building. I'm that guy. I'm the guy who knew from the moment we met that you were it. You were the person I was going to love for the rest of my life. You are the person who I want to have by my side when things get tough and to celebrate the good moments. You are the person I can't live without. You are my Bones. 

I know you're all independent about all this, and you are not a possession to be had, but that doesn't mean I'm not yours. You own my heart, Temperance Brennan. You have for a long time, even longer than I let myself realize it. 

I can't stop imagining us when our year is up. When I can hold your hand, kiss you, make love to you (hey, look at me talking about sex). I have all these plans about taking you to dinner somewhere nice, where we get dressed up and drink fancy wine. Plans about staying in with your favorite Thai food while I catch you up on all the best movies. Plans about you bringing me along to your anthropology lectures and conferences out of town, just because we can't stand to be away from each other that long. I want to show you off to the world and establish my “alpha male” dominance. I want everyone to know that such an intelligent, confident, beautiful woman chose me. For some crazy reason, you choose me, and I'll try my damnedest to earn that every day you will let me. 

Again, I love you, Bones. 

Now, less than three hundred thirty-some days until the end of our year.

See you at the reflecting pool. 

Booth. 

Chapter Text

If Brennan is being honest with herself, she's miserable. And it's not just because she misses Booth and wishes she had more than the five letters he's sent her. It's also because this whole trip has been lacking in the first seven months she and Ms. Wick have been here. 

The weather is hot, the bugs are constantly buzzing, Daisy still complains about missing Sweets, and she still won't stop gushing about how precious and romantic it is that Brennan and Booth are finally together and writing each other letters. She's compared it to Romeo and Juliet multiple times, to which Brennan is very much annoyed by because the thought of Booth or herself dying before they really have a chance to become anything makes her feel uneasy.

She knows it's illogical the way she's feeling. But Booth makes her want to be illogical. It would just be a lot easier for her to come to terms with it if she were close to him, going to crime scenes, interrogating suspects, interviewing witnesses, solving cases, and going for drinks after. She misses that feeling of accomplishment. She's missed the feeling of being a part of a team, being partners with someone who understands her better than she does herself.

Brennan left the Jeffersonian for a reason. She thought that reason was because she didn't feel as if her true passion for the work, the research, was still being fulfilled. She was distracted by being in the field and working with bodies less than ten years old. Before she told Booth she could be a duck all those years ago, she was going to Guatemala, Iraq, Mexico, Peru, and so many other places where she made a difference with identifying victims and giving them their names back or discovering an ancient civilization. She thought she had missed that, which is why she accepted the role as lead anthropologist for the Maluku project. 

Now that she's here, now that it's been seven months of nothing, she wishes for nothing more than to get back to D.C. and work on homicide cases with the man she loves. 

Even if she were to leave now that doesn't mean Booth would be there. He was called to serve for a year; that was the agreement. He still has five months left, and Brennan knows that if she were to go back to the Jeffersonian, she wouldn't be any happier there than she is here. She wouldn't want to work with any other FBI agent than Booth, and she doesn't know if she could go back and not have their whole team. 

Angela and Hodgins are somewhere off in Paris, being a happily married couple. Brennan doesn't mean to think it because, after years of working with Booth, someone who has taught her a lot about emotions, she knows it can be offensive to say that Dr. Saroyan isn't enough. 

Cam is a crucial part of their whole dynamic. Brennan knows that, without her, their strange, unconventional family wouldn't be complete. But she also needs Angela Montenegro, her best friend, the woman who brings her out of her shell when Brennan is too stuck in her work. She needs Dr. Jack Hodgins, the bugs and slime guy who understands her language and love of the weird better than anyone. She needs Dr. Lance Sweets, although she would never really admit to needing his soft science psychobabble; sometimes, he can be proven effective, and a small part of her, which she still hides from herself and her family, thinks of him as a little brother she never had. She needs Caroline Julian, a woman she respects and admires for her gumption, and if she's being honest with herself, scares her a bit. Most importantly, she needs Seeley Booth, her partner, the man who changed her in a way she never felt possible; he's the man she loves, he's the man she wishes she could see in person again, even just for a minute.

“Dr. Brennan, do you think we’ll find anything?” Daisy asks one night after a long day of driving around to dig spots and finding nothing substantial. 

“We have found things already, Ms. Wick.” Brennan answers, dropping her bag at the foot of her bed before sitting down on the edge of the cot. Her muscles are sore, her clothes are dirty, and she would kill for a hot shower right now, but still, she holds strong. 

“But we haven't.” Daisy moans, flopping onto her cot face first, a fall that could not have been unpainful. “At least nothing like the signs of early man we were promised to find seven months ago when we were on our way here.”

Brennan takes off her hat and lets her hair down, her bangs dropping into her eyes a bit. “There were no promises made.” 

“Ugh!” The intern groans, screaming into her wimpy pillow. “It felt like a promise. It should've been a promise because a find as big as what we were not promised would have been worth the dingy tents, the soggy shoes, the being eaten alive by bugs, and the homesick feeling I have been away from my Lancelot!” 

“Enough, Ms. Wick!” Brennan snaps. Daisy sits up, looking properly scolded. “Don't you think I am disappointed as well? I was hoping to find something as grand about our human history as you are, but you do not hear me complaining every hour of the day, do you?” 

“No.” It comes out barely as a whisper. “I'm sorry.” 

Brennan takes a deep breath, feeling exhausted and in need of something remarkable to happen. “I am sorry for snapping at you. I will try not to let it happen again.” 

Daisy forces a small smile, taking her hair out to try and rebraid it so it's not as annoying to sleep in. “I'll try not to complain as much, too, Dr. B! Just you wait, I'll be chipper and excited and ready to find something to change the course of history tomorrow!” 

Brennan rolls her eyes, not able to decide which version of Ms. Wick is going to be worse, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she lies down on her cot, reaching under the bed on the opposite side of Daisy to grab her stack of letters from Booth.

Most nights, she rereads all five of them. The first one she's practically memorized by now, the others are pretty close to being permanently ingrained in her mind. She skims the first letter, reading her favorite parts.

“I'm in love with you, Temperance Brennan. But I don't wish you were here with me because I'd be terrified you'd find a way to get yourself in trouble, and I would never see you again. But I love you, and I really, really, really miss you.”

The part he wrote about her getting in trouble makes her laugh quietly to herself. He knows her very well, and she would probably do just that. She even loves the redundancy of how many “reallys” he listed. 

The second letter is shorter but just as comforting. 

“Bones, I know it's been a while, too long, since you probably got my last letter, and I really wish I had more hours in the day to write to you. I know, I know that isn't scientifically possible. I wish I could hear your voice correcting me on my mistakes. I wish I could just hear your voice, period. 

“There's a smart guy here, a real brainiac like the squinterns (not you, no one could be smarter than you), and he's a big fan of you, Bones. I caught him reading one of your books once that he brought along. It was a ratty paperback, and it really caught me off guard to see your picture on the back cover. I then asked him how he was liking it, and he gave a raving review of your work. He just about lost it when I told him I knew you, that I loved you (I didn't actually tell him that. I just wanted an excuse to write it out). He even asked me to sign his book when he found out I was your inspiration for Agent Andy. 

“Talking about you with him was something I didn't know I needed to do. I told him about our cases, how well we worked together, how we ate lunch at the diner at least three times a week, and got drinks at Founding Fathers after every solved case. I think he figured out there was more to our relationship than just being partners, with how much I wanted to talk about you. But I didn't care. I'd take any excuse to talk you up, Bones. 

“Being without you is getting harder and harder, even with all the distractions and lack of downtime. I find you in my dreams, and when I wake up to this nightmare without you, I wish I could go back to sleep. (Was that too cheesy? Sorry if you're weirded out, but what can I say, I'm a man in love.)

“I can't wait until the next two hundred eighty-some days are up and we can see each other again. I'll try to write to you more often, but that might be difficult, so I hope this is enough for now.

Love, Booth.”

Brennan rereads his words over and over again before holding the stack of letters close to her chest. She falls asleep thinking of Booth, not ready to wake up the next morning to the nightmare without him.

~~~

“Day two hundred thirteen, found nothing.” Daisy sighs, looking down at a clipboard that doesn't really mean anything.

“Well, three months ago we found an onyx bead.” Brennan says, trying to keep both their spirits up. 

Daisy sighs yet again. “No offense, Dr. Brennan, but what we’re looking for is evidence of early man, not jewelry that's barely two thousand years old.” Before Brennan can respond to her, Daisy lets out a loud squeal of distress.

The forensic anthropologist tracks her intern's eyeline and finds the cause of her scream. “I find it interesting that I am only afraid of snakes when Booth is around to be jumped upon.” As to prove her point, Brennan just grabs the large yellow snake out of the back of their Jeep and lets it slither away.

Once the snake is taken care of, the pair gets into the Jeep to begin the long drive back to their campsite. They drive for as long as they can before suddenly coming to a stop, smoke coming from the engine of their vehicle. Brennan hops out to take a closer look at the problem while Daisy panics and complains. So much for her enthusiasm and chipper attitude. 

“If I can't fix this carburetor, we’re in trouble.” She says, fiddling with what's under the hood. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Daisy’s back go straight, and her eyes widen with concern. “I think we might be in trouble anyway.” Brennan looks up and spots the “trouble” she is referring to. Three men carrying guns are staring at them. “Dr. Brennan.” There's panic in her tone.

Brennan tries to sound reassuring. “This is a very delicate situation. If I were you, I'd swallow that engagement ring right now.” She hears the nervous girl gulp down the piece of jewelry.

Brennan then goes into an explanation of who she believes these men to be and conveys the importance of showing them they are women. Daisy panics, taking off her shirt so she's left in a bra and her shorts, to which Brennan is completely confused, even after her explanation. 

“You take the little one, and I'll handle the other two.” Brennan whispers to Daisy, reaching into the back of the Jeep to find something to use as a weapon.

“What?” Daisy gasps, taken off guard.

It's at that point where the three men attack. Brennan swings a shovel at one, knocking him out cold before swinging the gun out of one of the other man's hands. While he's flailing, she kicks her foot up, hitting his chin. The final man is taken out with a swift blow to the groin, to which he's rolling around groaning and holding himself in pain.

Brennan was just about to head to try and start up the Jeep again when the sound of a gun cocks behind her head. “Not so fast.” An accented voice says from behind her. It doesn't sound local, but she can't be too sure without turning around and facing him.

She's about to try and fight her way out of this, but she sees Daisy being grabbed from behind, a gun pressing against her temple.

“You two are coming with us.” The voice says, gripping her hands and tying them behind her back. “Don't even think about trying to escape; otherwise, my friend over there will shoot your naked friend in the head.” 

Brennan can see the panic all over Daisy’s face as her arms are tied behind her back. She does what the man behind her says, hoping that after some time, she can figure out a way to escape that keeps both Daisy and herself alive long enough to get back to the Indonesian airport to go home.

This is exactly what she was worried about. Or, well, at least this is somewhat exactly what she was worried about. She didn't really go into specifics, but a kidnapping by mysterious strangers who aren't native to the lands has to fall under “ I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you or me and I never got to tell you ” territory. 

As scary and sad as it is to think about, she's grateful she told Booth how she felt. She's just wishing there was a better possibility of her making it to their reflecting pool date by the coffee cart in one hundred fifty-two days.

Chapter Text

Booth is trying to get some sleep before he takes his men out on a training mission tomorrow, but he's having a hard time actually doing so. It's not that he's nervous about tomorrow; he has faith in his men and knows that they will all do everything in their power to make sure the training goes smoothly. Just like they would on a real mission. 

It's just that it's been seven months without seeing Brennan, and the time has really gotten to him. Back at the airport on the best day of his life, the day Bones told him she's in love with him, he was ready to throw everything away and run away to be with her. It's hard not to regret the decision to fulfill his duty when he's questioning if the war he's fighting is worth it.

So he takes a page out of Bones’ book and grabs his stash of her letters from his pack. She's sent him seven, one for every month they've been a part, while he has only managed five. He tries not to feel guilty over it, knowing that it's not technically his fault, and he doesn't have the time to sit down and write out all the words he wants to say to her. 

In one of her previous writings, she mentioned that she reads the letters he's sent her every night to fall asleep. If he remembers correctly, it was the fourth one she sent. So he unfolds that one, grabs a small flashlight so he can see the words, and settles back down to see if it might help him get some sleep.

“Booth, it is now the beginning of our fourth month apart. Only two hundred and forty-three days until our year ends, and we will sit on our bench by the coffee cart. This time, I might actually kiss your hand. Do you remember that night? 

“It was the night we found out about the severity of the Gormogon case, back before Zach was ever a part of it. I was running a sprint, as you called it, when it was supposed to be a marathon. Then I went on to try and tell you that wasn't the correct etymology of marathon, but I stopped short. I stopped short because you looked at me with your mesmerizing brown eyes, and I lost all words. Looking back at that time now, I realize that would have been an adequate time to kiss you. So, just know if theoretically time travel existed (which it doesn't, no matter what conspiracy Hodgins has to try and explain it), I would go back to that time by the reflecting pool and kiss both your hand and your mouth.

“Is there a time or situation that happened between us that you would want to go back to and change? I have a few more, but I wish to keep those to myself for now. Maybe in my next letter, I will share another. But I'm curious to hear your thoughts. 

“Another question, do you sleep alright over there in Afghanistan? Does the gunfire keep you up, the heat, the fact that you are sleeping next to a dozen other men? Or, like me, is it because I am not close to you? I know we have not crossed that sexual line in our relationship yet, but sometimes it feels like we have. Ever since admitting my feelings out loud to you, I feel your lack of presence even more than before. 

“Which is why I reread your letters almost every night. It relaxes me after a disappointing day of digging, or if Daisy is making me want to pull my hair out. (By the way, I cut bangs in my hair last week on a whim. Usually, I am not impulsive like that, but for some reason, I felt the change was needed.) 

“I have gotten close to believing you are next to me after reading your words over and over again. Sometimes my arms wrap around my thoracic- sorry, my rib cage subconsciously, and I let myself think it's your strong arms wrapping around me as protection. 

“Maybe you sleep just fine, and all of this is a humiliating admission at how lonely I feel without you. I thought I was good at being alone. I thought being lonely was just how life was going to play out for me. Then I met you and everything changed. I didn't want to be alone anymore, and you made me feel like I was never lonely. 

“This is now feeling redundant. Probably due to the fact that I spent the last eighteen hours digging in dirt for nothing before driving four hours back to camp. Daisy is snoring next to me, and I have to hold a flashlight in my mouth in order to write this down. It is quite unsanitary, but because it is for you, I will endure it.

“Hopefully, you are dreaming of me now, Booth, like I will of you tonight.

“Love, Bones.” 

She's right. Reading her letters does make him think she's next to him, even if it's just for a brief moment. He remembers how, when he responded to this letter, her fifth one had already come in as well. He tried to respond to the small things he picked up on, answer her questions, while also giving her an update about himself. 

Most of the time, his letters are written a couple paragraphs at a time. Either because of minimal downtime or how sore his hand gets from not being used to physically writing like this in such a long time. Probably since high school, if he remembers correctly. 

“Booth!” A whisper of a gravelly voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Turn the light off. Some of us like it dark when we try to sleep.” 

Booth doesn't say anything, just sits up to tuck the letters back safely into his pack before turning the light off and going to sleep himself.

~~~

The training went perfectly as expected, but then a new call came in about a real situation, one that should prove if this training paid off. Booth is leading his men, giving orders to them on the drive to the drop-off point. 

“Everyone knows your positions.” 

“Yes, Master Sergeant!” The whole of them grunt in response.

“Alright, let's head out!” 

The teams of men get into formation, weapons ready for anything that might come their way. Booth looks around, checking behind him, above him, and anywhere a potential threat could strike from. When he's satisfied with the situation, he moves on.

“She says two insurgents, five minutes ago, went to kidnap child of NATO interpreter.” One of his men says as they close in on their target.

“We gonna allow that?” Booth asks rhetorically with a bit of a smile to try and relieve any final bits of stress. “Just like we trained, boys, a hundred times, right?” 

His calmness and reassurance seem to do the job, and not a second later, they're moving in. Booth and his partner go on either side of the door while another pair goes around to the other exit. One of his men gets a smoke bomb ready to throw into a window before getting into his position. 

Once the smoke bomb goes off, Booth kicks down the door and heads in, gun raised and ready to fire if necessary. There's shouting in a foreign language, gunshots, and receding footsteps. Booth sees one right in front of him and takes his shot a second later, another man takes his place, not able to get one shot off because of the former sniper's quick reflexes. 

The kid they were sent to rescue is nowhere to be seen, so as soon as the building is clear, they move out into the streets. Booth hears a woman shouting, sounding distressed, sounding like a mother. He doesn't hesitate to go to the call and finds the boy being held by two foreign soldiers. 

“Stay back! Stay back!” He tells the frantic mother. The two men turn around, and Booth takes one of them out before he can raise his gun. 

“Put the boy down.” He demands, looking through the scope of his gun, ready to take the shot if necessary. The second man picks the boy up as if to use him as a shield while also drawing out a small handgun from somewhere on his person to hold to the kid's temple. “Put. The boy. Down.” He says again. He takes cautious steps forward as the man yells at him. “Don't pretend you don't understand what I'm talking about. Put the boy down or I'll shoot you now!” 

Booth keeps moving forward, and the foreign soldier keeps moving backward. This is all part of his plan; he just has to hold out a little longer until his team is in position. He wishes that the mother would stop shouting and crying because it's a bit distracting, and any wrong move could set off the man holding a gun to her son's head. But as a father himself, he understands. If this were Parker, he would probably be panicking just as much as she is. 

The cocking of a pistol behind the man's head makes both Booth and the man he's been targeting tense up. All but one of the guns, the gun being held by one of his men, are lowered. The captor is taken into custody, and the boy is released to run back to his sobbing mother.

Booth watches her grip her son tight, chanting, “Thank you, thank you.” While she kisses his hair. “This would not have happened if his father were here.” She says clearly, more sober now that she has her son back. “Where he is supposed to be, instead of off fighting someone else's war.” 

The words hit Booth harder than he thought they would. All he can do is just stare at her, at a loss for what to say to reassure her that what her husband is doing is an honorable duty when he himself questions his own. Eventually, she puts an arm around her son and walks home, leaving Booth to stand alone with his thoughts.

Back at base camp, Booth is sitting alone with his thoughts when someone comes into his tent to say he's got a phone call. 

It's not particularly unusual for him to get a call. Sometimes there's one from Angela and Hodgins in Paris, others Cam from back in D.C., and he gets calls from Parker at least once a month. But this phone call is different. Something in his gut is warning him that whatever he hears on the other end of the phone, he's not going to like.

He heads to the technology tent and grabs the satellite phone from one of the sergeants working. Nothing on the man's face tells him what he might expect from the call, so he takes a quick deep breath and turns away from the group huddled by satellite computers to get just a bit of privacy.

“Booth.” He says in acknowledgment.

“Cher.” Caroline’s voice is scratchy through the receiver. “You gotta come home quick.” 

“I can't just pack my things and go, Caroline.” He can't help but roll his eyes at the federal prosecutor. “Just because you say you need me doesn't mean I can walk away. I have a duty.”

“Duty Shmooty.” She scoffs. “It's not me who needs you, Cher.” 

“What? Who?” He asks, immediately, back to serious.

Please don't be Bones. Please don't be Bones. He thinks to himself, holding his breath.

“It's that pretty doctor of yours.” She sighs, knowing that wasn't what he wanted to hear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Booth swears under his breath, gripping the satphone in a deadly grip. “What happened?”

“That's the thing, we don't know.” Even with the poor quality of the connection, Booth can hear the stress in Caroline’s voice. 

Throughout the years, Booth has noticed her become begrudgingly fond of all the squints, especially Brennan. She's worked with them on cases, helped get warrants in times where it seemed impossible, and even joined them for meals at the diner or Founding Fathers. She's a part of their family even if she would never admit it out loud to anyone.

“Angela tried to call her two days ago, and there was no answer.” Caroline continues. 

Booth looks up at the ceiling of the tent to keep himself composed. He doesn't need to break down in the middle of a war zone, not unless he knows for sure Bones is- he can't bring himself to finish the thought. 

“That itself isn't too suspicious, but they tried again this morning, and a man with a British, Australian, or some other weird accent answered the phone. He told her that if she had the right number that he had two valuable someones for her.” 

“Bones and Daisy were kidnapped?” Booth asks, catching the attention of everyone in the tent. This was just perfect, two kidnappings in one day. One he helped get back, and the other over four thousand miles away in the middle of an inhabited jungle. 

“That's our assumption, Cher. Now, you need to get that military butt of yours on a plane tonight. Hodgins and Angela are already on their way, and Cam is setting up the lab for everyone with Sweets.” 

“I'll be there as soon as I can.” He doesn't care what it takes; he will be on a plane out of here one way or another. There is nothing that's going to stop him from getting to Bones.

Chapter Text

Angela Montenegro has been to this airport many times before. She remembers picking up her best friend after her trip to Guatemala six years ago and resorting to flashing the man at the arrivals desk just so she could know when Brennan’s plane got in. She, of course, didn't need to do that because, lucky (or unlucky, maybe) for her, her best friend appeared just a second later.

As Angela and her husband Jack Hodgins are standing at the same arrivals area, she's wishing more than anything that her best friend is going to walk through that hall towards them any second. But it's not her best friend. It's Booth.

He looks different from how she remembers him looking seven months ago. In this very airport, she watched this man in the same military uniform but with smoother hair and a cleaner shave kiss her best friend. It wasn't a quick, polite goodbye kiss between friends and partners. It was an I love you kiss that her best friend fully committed to. The shock she felt when she and the rest of their friends witnessed it that day was intense. So intense that she couldn't even bring herself to ask what the hell happened before Brennan and Daisy were off to catch their flight. She couldn't ask Booth either because he's so secretive about his life, and he was already walking out of the airport.

Luckily, her best friend sent her a letter a couple of weeks later explaining the whole situation further. 

“Dear Angela, I know you must be confused as to what happened at the airport when I was leaving for Maluku. Hopefully, this letter clears it up just a bit more for both you and me. 

“I am in love with Booth. I know this revelation might not come as a shock to you because you have been in touch with your emotions a lot longer than I have, but it was a shock to me. You are my best friend, Angela, and I need you now. I need to tell you these things so you can explain them to me in ways I can both logically process and understand. That being said, it might be a little difficult for us to have that conversation, seeing as I am seven thousand miles away in the jungle while you are in Paris with your husband. 

“I will just start with the basics. Booth confessed his feelings to me, and I rejected him. I know how he is with love and what he wants out of relationships, and I knew I couldn't give him what he wanted, so I said no. That night, I went home and couldn't handle my own emotions and immediately regretted my answer, but I couldn't take it back. So for the next couple of months, we pretended like everything was fine. He went out on a couple of dates, I went out with Andrew, and I thought it was fine. Then I saw him at the airport. I didn't know if he would be able to see us off because of having to prepare to go to Afghanistan, but then I saw him. I saw him and I knew I had to tell him.

“So when we were standing close to each other, I told him I was in love with him. That I couldn't live with myself if I didn't tell him and something happened to either one of us. We made a promise to keep in touch and write letters. (A lot like how I am writing to you. I just finished writing his first letter before deciding to write to you too.) At the end of the year of us being away, we are going to try to be together as a couple.

“Angela, it's only been a week, and I miss him. I know it is illogical, but I can hear your voice in my head (not literally, that would be concerning, as we both know from past experience), telling me that our feelings aren't logical. So I have embraced these feelings. 

“I just wanted you to know that. I miss you and everyone else as well. Hopefully, this letter finds you in Paris. 

“Love, Brennan.” 

Angela likes to reread the letter sometimes and say “I told you so” out loud to no one in particular. She wishes her best friend were here so she could hug her and say it in person. But no. Her best friend is somewhere in the jungle of Indonesia with a man who is holding her and Daisy hostage. 

“Hey guys.” Booth says, standing in front of them. He tries to force a smile, but none of them really feels it. 

Angela can't hold it in anymore. She takes a few steps closer to Booth and hugs him, not caring if he's not the hugging type. The two of them are the ones closest to her, the ones who know and love her the most, and she needs that support right now. He drops his pack onto the floor and wraps the sobbing woman in his arms, fighting back tears of his own.

“We’re gonna get her back.” He whispers. “I'm gonna get her back.” 

“I know you will.” She sniffles.

The two of them pull away from each other. Hodgins pats Booth on the shoulder as a gesture of comfort, and the three of them make their way outside and head to the Lab where the rest of their family is waiting.

~~~

Caroline Julian doesn't like to feel useless; it makes her uneasy. And right about now, she's feeling pretty damn useless. This isn't just another one of their cases where she needs to smooth-talk a judge into getting a warrant in the middle of the night. This isn't just another trial where the squints are expert witnesses to explain all the science mumbo jumble. This is about their team, their family. 

Dr. Temperance Brennan has grown on Ms. Julian whether she'd like to admit it or not. She doesn't know the yappy intern as much as the rest of them do, but she does know the pretty doctor. She also knows Seeley Booth and how he feels about the doctor, even if neither one of them has admitted it. 

But apparently, they have admitted it. Apparently, the military man snuck off base to come say goodbye to his cherie and as a reward got a love confession. Caroline is sorry she missed it just because of a day in court. According to Cam, it was a good kiss, and Caroline had to wonder if it was better than the one that she had made the pair of them have under the mistletoe three years ago. 

When Angela, Hodgins, and Booth walk into the Jeffersonian, she relaxes for a brief moment, as if anticipating that Brennan is going to be right behind her. She's not. Which is why all of them are here. To make a plan to get the two anthropologists back to D.C. in one piece. 

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Cher?” Caroline goes right in for the hug, which a tired-looking Booth accepts without complaints.

“What do we have on this guy? Anything?” That's the agent she knows. Right to business, no messing around.

“I only have an accented voice in my head.” Angela says, choking up just at the thought. “He told me that he has Brennan and Daisy.” She loses it now, but luckily, Cam and Hodgins are next to her to rub her back and hold her hand.

“Then we have to call him back, try to trace the call.” Booth says, sounding all squinty.

Everyone seems to agree, so they head into Angela’s office and allow her to get set up with the tracking software before they dial the number again. It's completely silent as the phone rings over and over again, breath being held and hands clutching one another for support. It feels like a year has passed by the time the line picks up.

“Oy, is this that pretty voice from before?” A scratchy accented voice says, just like Angela says. It makes Caoline's blood boil, apparently Booth's too, because she can see how white his knuckles get as he grips his arms. 

“Y-yes. It is.” Angela says, trying to keep her voice even.

“Ah, yeah. That's the voice.” The man has the audacity to laugh next, an evil cackling sound that makes Angela flinch. She still manages to keep her fingers flying over her keyboard to track down the location.

“What do you want?” She asks, trying to keep him talking. “Why did you take them?” 

“My mate and I heard about the two Americans coming to the islands to look for treasure, so we came to see how they were coming along, maybe lend a hand or two.” 

Caroline feels useless again, so to steady herself, she places a hand on Booth’s shoulder as the two of them listen to the conversation. If only she were the one to make the first call, then she could be the one talking to this mystery man instead of just standing around and listening. 

“Treasure? How did you hear about that?” The computer looks like it's getting close to somewhere in Indonesia, but the federal prosecutor isn't a squint, so really, all she can see is triangles and blinking dots. 

“I have my resources. Now, enough chit chat.” He clears his throat. “These two gals here must be pretty important to you, am I right?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good, ‘cause we been followin’ them around for a few months and they ain't found no treasure.” Angela raises her head, a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes appearing across her mouth, and everyone in the room leans closer to see that she got a location. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna send my mate and I three million dollars for our troubles, and in exchange we won't hurt your gals.” 

Angela types out notes of what she can't say out loud for the rest of the group to read. 

They're out of the jungle. But that's all I know for now. I'm working on finding a more precise location.  

While she's typing, she keeps the kidnapper talking. “How do we know you won't just kill them after you get your money?” 

“Come on, love, we can come to an understanding, can't we?” From the other end of the line, a loud banging can be heard, and a new voice speaking in a different language. Caroline prays to God that the computer genius before her is recording this call so that she can go back and figure out that voice. 

“How are we supposed to send you the money?” 

“You'll receive a text from a secure number for an account number and an offshore account. Once the money is there, we’ll set the gals free and they can find their way back to you unharmed.” 

Caroline is about to jump into the conversation to negotiate, demanding that it isn't good enough, but she trusts Angela to do what she does best.

“It's going to take some time to get the money.” 

Another loud sound from the phone, and this time, what sounds like screaming. No one in the room can tell which one of the anthropologists it could be coming from, but that doesn't make it any less horrifying. Before the horrible man tells Angela what to do, he yells in another language away from the phone. The screaming stops, and it doesn't settle anyone any more than the screaming did.

“You have three days. That should be enough time.” He makes a noise, like a scoff or a grunt. “One of the gals is rich. We know because we saw her book in a shop window. ‘New York Times Best Selling Author’ now that just screams money.” 

Caroline grips Booth’s shoulder tightly and turns to spot the vein about to pop right out of his neck because his jaw is clenched so tightly. Everyone else in the room isn't doing much better. Despite how strong she's holding onto the conversation, tears are streaming down Angela’s face.

“Three days. Got it.” Angela has to take her shaking hands away from the keyboard. 

“Not a second later, otherwise we’ll start picking off body parts one by one.” The call disconnects, and Angela breaks down again, turning to her husband and collapsing into his arms.

~~~

The room is completely silent besides Angela’s sobs. Lance Sweets is staring at the monitor of the location where his kind of fiancée is being held captive, along with someone he's come to truly care about over the last three years.

He thinks he's going through the five stages of grief all at once, which, being a psychologist, he knows is possible. 

Denial. Daisy and Dr. Brennan are fine. They just lost their satphone and this guy found it and is using it to get money. The two of them are probably back at their camp, eating rations, digging in the dirt, or finding a new phone in town to call and let them know they are fine. Any minute now, the phone is going to ring, and he's going to hear the chipper tone of his Miss Daisy or the even deadpan voice of Dr. Brennan.

Anger. He's angry at Daisy for leaving. At himself for not going with her, for not saying he would wait for her, for not keeping in touch over the last seven months. He's angry at the people who asked her to go work on the Maluku project in the first place. He's angry at the kidnappers who think that they can just take two women from the middle of the jungle and demand money. 

Bargaining. What if he had gone with her? Would they even be captured and held if he were there to protect and help them? What if Daisy stayed in D.C.? Does that mean Dr. Brennan wouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place, or would they still be here worrying over how they were going to get the money? What if Daisy dies thinking he doesn't love her? What if Dr. Brennan dies and he doesn't get to tell her how much he's enjoyed getting to know her and Agent Booth? What if Booth blames him for all of this, for getting him to realize his feelings for Brennan, only to have their chance taken away by some evil man with an annoying accent? 

Depression. All feeling goes numb, empty. All he really wants to do is just lie down and never get up. 

Acceptance. No, he won't accept anything. They are going to get them back no matter what it takes. 

Booth is the first person to spring into action. “I'm going after them. I'm getting a flight and getting them. It's what, only a day’s flight. I'll be there and get them out before the three days are even up.” 

This snaps Sweets back into action. “I'm coming with you!” 

“No, you're staying here.” His tone is final, and the tight grip of his hand on his shoulder is a silent pleading. “I can't be worrying about you, too, Sweets. I need you to stay here.” 

Hearing the admission from the stoic agent before him makes Sweets agree to stay behind. He's reluctant but also knows it's best not to waste time.

“I got you on the next flight. It leaves in an hour.” Angela gets up and hands Booth the ticket. 

“Great, thanks, Ange.” He's running out of her office to leave the lab, and everyone follows close behind. “I gotta head to my apartment and grab some things. See if you can get in touch with the local government to let them know what's going on.” He stops suddenly, turning to address the group directly. “Don't let them move in. If these guys get spooked, we might lose our three days.” He doesn't say what everyone's thinking. That they might lose Brennan and Daisy, too. 

With one final nod, Booth takes off again, disappearing through the automatic sliding doors of the Medico-Legal Lab.

Chapter Text

Booth wasted no time getting back to his apartment, changing out of his uniform, and gathering the things he would need for the plane ride and for when he landed in Indonesia. He made it through security easily enough, especially considering he checked a few weapons, but he still had his clearance with the FBI, and he got through security fast enough to make his flight.

He was trying not to panic, to keep his cool and focus on what was ahead of him, one step at a time. Step one, get back to D.C., check. Step two, head to the Jeffersonian, check. Step three, figure out what actually happened, check. Step four, work out a plan, half check. He doesn't actually have a plan, but he knew he couldn't just sit around and wait while Brennan was captured in some small town in Indonesia. Step five, contact Angela and the local government about any updates on locations. Step six, rescue Daisy and Brennan. That's the most important step.

For now, all Booth can do is just sit around for the next twenty hours on a plane. Part of him feels helpless, but the other part of him, the part who knows what's on the other end of this flight, knows that this will be worth it. It has to be worth it.

He doesn't sleep, but he lies back with his eyes closed to make it seem like he is, so the older woman sitting in the seat next to him won't talk to him. She started chatting to him when they first sat down, talking about completing an item on her bucket list while pulling out knitting materials. Booth tries his best not to be an asshole by ignoring her, but it's hard when he doesn't feel like interacting with anyone, let alone a cheery old lady. 

He can barely get the in-flight meal into his system, but he forces himself to for energy. This is when the old lady sitting next to him puts away her knitting in favor of a book. Of course, that book has to be one of Brennan's. This one is a hardcover and new, unlike the one a member of his unit had. He wrote about him in a letter to Bones, explaining how much he enjoyed talking about her to someone.

“Have you read it, dear?” A voice snaps Booth out of his trance of looking at the professional picture of his partner. 

“Hmm?” He looks at the lady again, her reading glasses down low on her nose, making her eyes large and blurry. “Oh, yeah, I've read them before.”

The old lady flashes Booth a large smile. “You have good taste! I love her books. She seems like a really interesting lady.” 

“She is.” Booth responds, almost automatically. 

She gasps, holding the book close to her chest. “What? You know her?” 

Booth clears his throat of emotion and tries to keep his voice even. “Yeah, I'm Seeley Booth.” He gestures to the book, and the woman hands it over. He flips to the dedication page, where his name is typed out. 

“Oh my god! That means your Agent Andy!” She shouts, getting the attention of a few of the other passengers near them.

“Does it say that somewhere?” Of course, he already knew he was her inspiration, considering how similar the dynamics of Andy and Kathy are compared to Booth and Brennan. Along with the fact that everyone on their team has a character based on them in her books. 

“In the acknowledgements, she mentions you again.” She flips to the last page and skims through before showing him.

“Another thanks to Special Agent Seeley Booth, my real-life Agent Andy.”  

It takes him a lot of willpower not to break down. He can't afford it. Instead, he just smiles and nods, not trusting his voice not to betray his emotions. The woman seems to be satisfied with his reaction and just turns her attention back to the book, letting Booth be alone with his thoughts. He goes back to fake sleeping until the next meal. 

Twenty hours later, Booth is stiff from sitting in place too long and exhausted, but anxious to get going. Their three-day timeline is already down to two. Despite being in a rush, he ends up helping grab the bag from the overhead bin for the old lady he sat next to. Eventually, he gets through all the usual customs, baggage claim, and other obstacles, having a bit more difficulty getting his weapons back in this foreign country than he did getting them out of the U.S.

The first thing he does when he gets out of the airport is call Angela back at the Jeffersonian.

“I just landed, tell me you have something for me.” He begs, weaving through the people on the road.

“We’re still working on the location of the warehouse. It's like there's something getting in the way of the sensor, so we’re looking at other options.” Angela sounds about as tired as Booth feels, but he doesn't comment on it, knowing that it's not going to help either of them. “We did, however, get a location on their Jeep. It's in the city, about a thirty-minute drive from where you are now.”

“How does that help me?” He doesn't mean to be snappy, but he's going off of shitty airplane food and adrenaline alone.

“Maybe they left something there that can help lead us to wherever they've been taken.” Her tone is about as snappy as Booth’s. “Any lead is a good lead, no matter how small, Booth. And just so you know, I want to find them too. You aren't in this whole thing alone.” 

“I know Ange, I'm sorry.” He sighs, letting the silence hold for a moment before getting back to business. “Did you get in touch with local law enforcement?”

“Yes, but because they can't confirm if the kidnappers are from the area, they won't get involved.”

“Fuck!” He kicks at a rock on the road. “This just got a whole lot harder.”

“Slow down there, Sarge.” Booth does not like the nickname coming from Angela, doesn't feel right when he's out of uniform. “Caroline made a call, and she got you a ride and someone who's got connections.” 

“Who?” 

“They should be pulling up in a Jeep right next to you.” Just as she says it, Booth looks over to see someone he hasn't seen in a long time.

“Danny?” 

“Hey man, long time no see.” Booth’s former brother-in-arms flashes a smile and pulls down his sunglasses to reveal his eyes. “Heard you need a ride.” 

Angela’s voice snaps him out of his confused state. “Is he there? Will it work out?” 

“Yeah, Ange, it'll work.” He doesn't waste another second before throwing his bags in the back seat and hopping into the passenger side. “And Ange, don't call me Sarge.” 

“Yes, sir!” Before he can tell her not to call him ‘sir,’ she keeps going. “I just sent you directions to their Jeep. Keep the lines open for updates.” Then the call disconnects. 

As much as it felt weird to hear someone not in uniform refer to Booth as “Sarge,” it was nice to hear Angela be a little more at ease with all things considered. 

It takes a second for the directions to come through to the car's GPS, but when they finally do, Booth relaxes a fraction and turns to his old friend.

“What the hell are you doing here, Danny?” The current CIA agent just flashes another smile and pushes the gas pedal to go faster. 

“I was in Singapore when your Ms. Julian called me. Scared the shit out of me because the only people who have that number have a higher security clearance than me.” Booth makes a mental note to thank Caroline when they get back to the States. “So, how you been, Booth? Heard you joined back up?”

“It wasn't like that. I was called to train new soldiers.” He's not lying, technically it's just that since he's been there, he also headed up a few missions along with the training. “What about you? What were you doing in Singapore?”

“You know that's-” 

Booth finishes the sentence for him. “Classified. Yeah, yeah, you CIA guys and your secrets.” 

The two spend the rest of the surprisingly quick drive catching up on everything but work. Danny tries to bring up their current situation, but Booth dodges all the more personal questions to keep focused on the task at hand. 

The directions take them to the middle of nowhere, right on the outskirts of town, but at the edge of a tree line. “Hey there!” Booth calls out, spotting the Jeep.

Both men get out of the car to go and investigate. They search the vehicle for anything important. There are digging tools, a jacket, and not much else. Checking the glove compartment and the center console comes up empty, but when Booth finds a latch to lift the driver seat, there's a bag. A bag he is all too familiar with. It's the one Brennan used to bring with her into the field.

Booth reaches out slowly to grab it, feeling as if he moves too quickly, it might disappear. He goes through it while Danny checks the surrounding area. Again, there's nothing useful in the bag to help find them, but there's something that catches Booth's eye.

When he reaches in and pulls out a leather-bound book, he's not surprised to see it's a journal of some sort. Probably to document any findings Brennan found. She always had a thing for paper notes, and opening it to the first few pages, he immediately recognized the handwriting. Booth from reading her files on cases, and because of the letters she's written to him. There's something causing a crease towards the back of the journal, so Booth flips to the last page, and when he sees what the cause was, he almost drops the book. 

There, in the back of her journal, are his letters. All five of the ones he's written to her. He knows she read them a lot, mostly at night, because that's when she had time, but he didn't know she took them out into the field with her. He imagines her getting ready for the day, sending Daisy out to load up all their supplies for the day so she could sneak the letters from her usual hiding spot next to her bed and into her journal without getting an earful from the spunky intern. 

Danny appears in front of him, snapping him out of it. “I found tracks heading south, into the next town.” Booth snaps the journal shut and shoves it back into the bag, not acknowledging Danny’s questioning look. “My guess is they swapped vehicles out here and booked it before anyone could spot them.”

“Yeah, sounds right.” He shrugs the bag onto his shoulder and walks back to their car, grabbing his phone to call Angela to give her an update and hopefully get one for himself. “Hey, we found the Jeep abandoned on the edge of the trees just outside a small town. We got tire tracks heading south, maybe another town or village. Can you see if anything fits with that?” 

“On it.” Danny and Booth get back into the car, and he puts the phone on speaker. “There's another town fifty miles south of where you are now. Unless they turn sooner, there are a few other spots. But I think the best bet is to head for the fifty-mile mark.” 

“Not that I don't trust your judgement, Angela, but is there any reasoning to back up why you think that?” 

“I've been going through the recording of the call from yesterday. Separating the audio and sifting through the background noise. The screaming aside, I heard bells going off like from a church. And when I checked the time difference from when we called and what time it was there, it all lined up. The next town, fifty miles south, is the only town that is close that still has an operational bell tower church.” 

“Angela, you're a genius, I could kiss you!” It's a lead, and a good one at that. It sparks Booth back to life for a second wind.

“Save it for Brennan.” She laughs before getting back to the task at hand. “I'm looking closer at any warehouses in close proximity that would account for the faded bell sounds. I'll send them to you once I've got them.”

“Thanks, Ange.” 

“Just get them home, Booth.” The call disconnects again.

From beside Booth in the driver seat, Danny looks like he wants to say something with a smirk on his face. Booth ignores him, knowing it's just going to invite him to ask questions he'd rather not answer. 

“So are you gonna kiss her?” Danny finally asks after about ten minutes of driving in silence.

“What?” 

“Brennan, you gonna kiss her when we get to them?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively to egg Booth on.

“Shut up and drive!” That was not the correct response because all it does is get Danny to laugh, looking smug. 

Before he can talk himself out of it, Booth reaches into Brennan's bag and pulls out her journal. He releases the elastic strap, keeping the book closed, and flips to the final page where his letters rest. Angling the book so Danny can't see, he unfolds the one on top. It's the most recent letter he sent her about a month and a half ago.

“ Temperance, it's been too long since I've written to you, and I wish I could do better by you. You deserve it. You deserve the world, and as soon as we get back, I am going to do everything in my power to give it to you. 

“To answer your questions from your previous letter, yes. I do remember that night when you kissed my hand. I used to lie awake at night thinking about how your lips felt against my fingers and wished for an excuse for it to happen again. 

“To answer your question about whether I would go back in time and change anything between us, I would have to say no. I think, despite your horrible timing back at the airport, that we ended up exactly where we were supposed to be. I wouldn't even change the way we fought after our first case because I think we needed that year apart from working together to grow. I wouldn't change my rigging, you getting detained by Homeland Security, so I could come be your knight in shining armor (maybe Sweets has a point there, but don't tell him I said that). As much as it might annoy you, I wouldn't even change the fact that you didn't know I didn't die after I got shot at that karaoke bar. 

“We both know we felt something then. I know those two weeks being away from you were torture. I thought about calling you every day, but it was better if I stayed offline just in case I could be tracked. You weren't ready to acknowledge your feelings for me, but it was a step in the right direction, even if you still hate me for not telling you after three years. (By the way, I can still feel that punch you landed on me after you incapacitated the perp with a manikin arm. So I say again, Nice shot.)

“As for sleeping, I get as much as I can. Sometimes it's the guns, sometimes it's the men around me, sometimes it's the weather. But most of the time, yes, it is because you aren't close to me. When we’re in D.C., I know you're just a phone call or a quick drive away, and I could get to you fast if something were to happen. Being here, away from you, makes it difficult to relax and stop worrying about you. I will never stop worrying about you, Bones, will never stop wanting to protect you either. So please be careful for me, will you? It'll settle my mind a bit better, and maybe I'll get to sleep better.

“I'm glad you find comfort in my letters because I do the same with yours. This was a great idea you had, but then again, all your ideas are great. Please know I'm wrapping my arms around you now (not literally, I know), protecting you from any danger you might face in the world, even though I know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself.

“Just one hundred and eighty-some days left, Bones, then we won't be alone anymore.

“I love you, Booth.

“P.S. I can't wait to see your new haircut. I bet it looks great.”  

Booth just stares at his words after he finishes reading the letter. Wishing and regretting that he didn't write once a month like she did. It's not because of competition, which is something their relationship often revolved around. It's because she deserved it. She deserved more than what he could give her. He meant what he said in his first letter about wondering how someone like her could choose him.

Temperance Brennan is the smartest person he knows. She's got knowledge about everything, always something anthropological to say, even when the situation seems unrelated. It's intimidating. She could have anyone she wanted, yet somehow she chose to love him. It doesn't really make sense to him, but he's too in love with her to really second-guess whether being with her is worth it or not. After experiencing the terror of finding out she's been kidnapped, there's no way he's letting her go once he gets her back.

Danny was surprisingly quiet the rest of the drive and just let Booth reread through his letters in peace. Once Booth was done and slipped them back into the journal and the journal into the bag, he still didn't say anything. Booth was grateful, but he would never say it out loud.

“That’s one of the locations Angela picked out where they could be kept.” Danny says, parking a ways away. 

Booth takes note of the surroundings. “There's the church, too.” 

“Seems like a pretty good spot to hold people hostage.” Danny turns to Booth, evidence of concern on his face. “You ready, Booth?”

He nods, looking at the warehouse for a moment longer. “Yeah, let's gear up.”

Chapter Text

Brennan can't remember exactly how many days it's been since they've been captured. The room they're being held in is damp and cold, with no light coming in or out. It's constantly dark, the only glimpse of something is when one of the men who kidnapped them comes to check and make sure they aren't causing trouble. 

It's infuriating not knowing how long they’ve been gone for because she has been keeping a precise mental count throughout the whole trip so she could accurately write down the number of days left until their year was up, so she could tell Booth in one of her letters. 

It seems silly now, thinking about the days they have left when, best case scenario, she might not be able to send another letter, and worst case scenario, she won't live to make the date herself.

Daisy is not her usual talkative self. That might be due to the blood poisoning she is experiencing from her broken leg that's gotten infected. The two men who had taken them decided that the way to ensure cooperation was to be rough. 

Brennan’s eye is swollen shut, her lip busted, she's got scrapes on her shins from falling onto loose gravel, and bruises from the restraints around her wrists and the jabs to her stomach. Daisy is in much worse condition. There's a large gash in her head that made her lose a lot of blood, her leg is broken and was set by Brennan a few days ago without anesthetic or pain medicine. She screamed so loud and for so long that she passed out from the pain. Brennan let Daisy’s head rest in her lap as she stroked her hair. It was more for her than for Daisy; she wasn't awake to feel anything.

Every few hours, they are brought something to eat and drink, but Daisy hasn't eaten much of it. Brennan feeds her what she can handle before scarfing down the rest for herself as an effort to keep her energy up. If she were alone, she would have tried to escape a long time ago, but she can't leave Daisy. So she just tends to their wounds with the insufficient supplies they are provided, while trying not to think negative thoughts.

Although she does not have a pen and paper, Brennan mentally writes Booth one last letter.

“ Seeley Booth. I have always wondered why you do not like your first name. I have witnessed a ‘bit,’ as you might say, that happens between you and Cam. You call her ‘Camile’ and she calls you ‘Seeley’ and then you say ‘Don't call me Seeley’ and she responds ‘Don't call me Camile’, it's a strange thing. A thing I hadn't thought to question until I had nothing but time to think. 

“Sometimes I wish I had given you a nickname. I remember when we first started working together, and I tried to call you ‘Shoes’ just because they were shiny. It's embarrassing to think about now, and I am grateful you did not allow me to continue on with that nickname. 

“I have done this once before, you know. Write out final words for you to read if I were to die and my body were recovered. It was when Hodgins and I were buried alive by the Grave Digger. We each tore a page out of my newest book and wrote notes to the people we love. Hodgins wrote to Angela, and I wrote to you, Booth. I still have it, I keep it as a reminder of how I viewed my feelings then compared to now, and as a reminder that I am strong and resourceful and got through that difficult situation.

“I am determined to get through this difficult situation as well, so that I can see you again. So that we can be together and spend the rest of our lives together. So that I can read you that note. If I don't make it out of here, I wish there was a way to guarantee you find it so you can have something more tangible than this last mental letter that I'm writing to you. 

“I do not believe in signs from the universe or messages from God. I do, however, believe in you. And you believe in signs and messages. So please, find a message that leads you to me. Find a message that leads you to my Grave Digger note. Hold onto me, believe that I will be a ghost and haunt you because leaving this world behind, leaving you behind, sounds like torture. I wish I could believe in that. But I'm glad you believe. 

“I love you, Seeley Booth. I am yours just as much as you say you are mine. Always.” 

~~~

Brennan thinks it's been at least another day since she addressed Daisy’s condition, so she makes her way across the cold, damp room to check on her injuries. Of course, she's only gotten worse. The conditions they are in do not help, nor does the lack of proper supplies, but Brennan knows that their captors do not care about that. They didn't care the last four times she complained when they dropped off food, but that doesn't mean she isn't going to continue to bug them about it. 

Stomping footsteps are the first sign that someone is coming. Brennan takes a protective stance in front of Daisy, standing strong and projecting no fear. It's meant to be a defensive stance, but as soon as the loud door creaks open, something snaps.

The bald man doesn't even look around the room as he drops the food off. He just uses a can opener to pry open the can casually, like it's no big deal. That means he's distracted enough that when Brennan charges at him, he's caught off guard. 

She shoves him into the door frame, her dirty, bloody hands gripping around his neck. Somehow, the man is struggling to gain control over the situation. Maybe it's adrenaline, maybe it's shock, but whatever it is, Brennan is going to take full advantage of it.

The forensic anthropologist thrusts her knee up into the groin of her captor three times before he falls down to the ground. The kicking doesn't stop there; she stomps on his ribs, kicks the skin above his kidneys, and knocks his head into the ground until he passes out. 

She doesn't know if she's killed him, and she's not worried about that right now. All she's worried about is getting out of here alive with Daisy. 

First thing Brennan does when she's satisfied the man won't suddenly awake is grab his guns. She learned all the secret spots from Booth. One on the hip, one on the ankle, one tucked in the waist of his pants behind his back. She grabs one of the guns to use as protection while emptying the bullets from the other two and disassembling them around the room. 

The next thing she does is go to hoist Daisy up in some sort of piggyback situation. It's not easy with her dead weight and her moaning in pain, but eventually, Brennan gets her into a position where she feels confident she can walk out of the room. The first few steps are disorientating. 

There are four ways for her to go. The first one is up a set of stairs. At first consideration, it might seem like the best situation due to the fact that they are in a basement. But the echoing of the steps from when food is being dropped off makes Brennan think that's going to be close to where the other captor is hiding out. That just leaves three other dark hallways. 

She decides to go in the opposite direction of the stairs, figuring that if it leads to a dead end, she can circle back around and shoot her way out. Or try to shoot, she's not sure how accurate her aim is going to be with the extra weight of Daisy throwing off her balance. 

After some searching, Brennan manages to find another staircase leading upstairs. She has to put the gun in her pocket to make sure Daisy doesn't fall off her back while she ascends. There's a door at the top that's unlocked but rusty at the hinges, making it difficult to keep quiet. 

Daisy stirs awake for a few moments at the sound. “I'm sorry, Dr. B.” She mumbles her words, slurring together. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ms. Wick.” Brennan coos, getting the door open enough to the point where she can sneak through. Daisy mumbles something again, but it's incoherent, and Brennan can't understand it. 

She takes cautious steps forward, trying not to let her bare feet slap against the cold floor. They took their shoes and socks as a precaution for a possible escape. Little did they know that Brennan didn't mind having to endure a little pain to get to safety. 

A booming voice coming from somewhere in the building makes the hairs all over Brennan’s body stand up. The second captor must have gotten suspicious when the other didn't come back after all this time. Logically, this floor should be empty, which means she can try to find an exit without worrying about running into anyone. She grabs the gun from her pocket just in case.

Picking up the pace a bit, she hurries forward, finding light that blinds her eyes after being kept in darkness for days. The sound of banging causes her to freeze, expecting to see someone come out of the door she left the basement from, but instead the banging continues. Shouting plays out, and the noises develop in her ears as evidence of some kind of struggle between two people rather than one person kicking open a door.

It doesn't make sense why there would be a struggle, but she doesn't have time to figure out what it means. Brennan is full on jogging now, as fast as she can. Her feet slap against the floor, making an echoing noise, but she doesn't have time to keep her footfalls quiet. One of her legs runs into something sharp, and it slices at her skin as she pulls away, but she doesn't have time to scream or check the injury. 

Vision laser focuses on getting out of wherever she is, she finds a door leading outside, and shoves it open. The bright sun is disorienting, but just for a second. Her leg must be in pretty bad shape because she has to drag it behind her. A sharp wave of pain courses through her whole leg from her toes to her hip. It's wet, probably from blood, probably leaving a trail, but she just has to keep moving. She got them out of there alive, now she needs to find them a place that's safe.

Brennan is exhausted, sweating, and in pain. She doesn't know which way is right or left, and she doesn't know how much longer she can handle everything all at once. She makes it as far as a far wall of a church. They're hidden from plain view of the warehouse they were kept in, and it's shaded. 

She doesn't collapse, she won't allow herself to. Instead, she sets Daisy down and props her up against the wall before positioning herself in front of her, gun grasped in her hand and ready to shoot if their captors come looking for them.

With this downtime, Brennan takes deep breaths to calm herself. Once she's no longer as disoriented, she sees the trail of blood her leg left behind. She cursed under her breath and was just about to get back up to move positions when a figure came around the corner. 

She was just about to raise her gun to shoot, but then she saw the figure's face. She finally let herself break down. The whole time she had been so focused on staying strong for Daisy, making sure she ate and was taken care of, she had to push away her own pain and feelings to make sure they got out alive. They had done that. They got out, and they were alive and they were saved. 

“Bones! Oh my god, Bones!” Booth’s voice was ringing in her ears, and she reached out helplessly to him.

“Booth.” She sobbed but immediately felt better when she felt his arms wrap around her.

“Oh my god. Fuck!” He sounded frantic. She hated that she caused him to feel this way, but she didn't have the voice to say it. “Danny! Get over here.” 

“Holy shit!” A new, unfamiliar voice said. “You get her, I'll get the other one.” 

The other one . 

“Daisy!” Brennan gasped, gripping Booth’s arm, trying to tell him what she meant. “Daisy! Daisy!” Was all she could chant.

“We got her, Bones. We've got both of you, don't worry.” He was cradling her in his arms, and they were moving. 

Brennan’s head was against Booth’s chest, and she felt safe, protected. Her eyes were feeling droopy, and she had lost feeling in her body. “I love you, Booth.” She said, voice hoarse and raw. She thought she heard him respond, but her brain shut off before she could process the words. Her world went dark, her last memory of the man she was in love with. It was a good memory, too. 

~~~

Booth was sitting next to Brennan in the local hospital. Besides the fact that she was exhausted and needed to have eighteen stitches along her leg, she wasn't in that bad of shape. Just some scrapes and bruises that would heal and fade to light scars or be gone completely in a few months. 

Daisy was worse off. She had to go into surgery to repair the damage to her leg while also being pumped full of drugs so the blood poisoning wouldn't spread any further. Danny was with her in another room. Booth couldn't bring himself to leave Brennan alone. 

So he sat and waited. He watched the woman he was in love with sleep. He cataloged her injuries. Black eye, bruises around her wrists, scabs and small cuts on the bottoms of her feet, bags under her eyes, and an uneasy twitch of her fingers as if she were still fighting for her life. Booth grabbed her hand and squeezed, hoping that maybe his presence would help her feel at ease.

While they were driving to the hospital, Booth made the call back home. He let everyone know they were safe, but in rough condition. He heard crying and cheering and questions he didn't know the answers to yet. Everyone was saying something over the top of one another, and it was overwhelming. Danny had to take over the call to settle everyone down, promising to call back when they had the information while also reassuring them that both Brennan and Daisy were safe. 

Booth just held onto the sleeping Brennan during the drive. He knew she was alive and breathing because he could feel her breath coming through her nose, and he could see her chest rising and falling. Just to be sure, he pressed two of his fingers along the pulse point of her wrist so he could feel her heartbeat as reassurance.

From the bed, Brennan groaned, and her eyelids fluttered open. “Booth?” She said, sounding disoriented.

“Hey, Bones.” Booth didn't fight the tears that were welling up in his eyes. “Shh, it's okay. You're safe, Daisy’s safe.” She relaxed against the pillow again at the news. 

“Where are we?” 

“Some hospital in a random city. We drove as far as we could before we had to call for an air ambulance. Daisy wasn't doing so well, but she's recovering now.” Booth moved to sit on the edge of the bed and brushed some of Brennan’s hair out of the way. “I'm so glad you're okay.” 

“I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you found us.” Booth saw tears form in her eyes, and instead of brushing them away, he leaned down and kissed them. 

“I’ll always find you, Bones. Always.”

Chapter Text

After a four-day hospital stay, Daisy and Brennan were both well enough to fly back to D.C. Danny got them to the airport but left the rest up to Booth. The three of them slept practically the whole flight. Daisy had the window seat and was curled up in a ball as much as her cast would allow. Brennan was in the middle, one hand grasping Daisy’s arm to make sure she was still there, while her other arm was looped through Booth's, who had the aisle seat. She had her head resting on his shoulder, and he was leaning against her head. 

The same old woman from before was in the aisle seat across from Booth. He hadn't noticed until he woke up the first time. The woman’s eyes were practically popping out of her head as she saw the bruised, famous doctor-slash-author. Booth tried to explain it away as research for her next book. She didn't buy it, but let the man have peace while she got along with her knitting. 

Everyone was waiting for them at the airport. There was a welcome home banner for all three of them as if to signal that the last week didn't happen. It was just Booth coming home from Afghanistan and Brennan and Daisy coming home from Maluku. 

Angela cried a lot. And hugged both the girls fiercely before moving on to Booth. She thanked him for bringing her best friend home, and he thanked her for giving him directions. 

Sweets was choked up and a blubbering idiot, holding tight to Daisy and supporting her enough so that her crutches dropped to the ground. 

Hodgins went right for the discovery in Maluku, which was definitely not the right thing to bring up because it got Brennan in a fuss. She ranted about it being a waste of time and resources and complained that all it did was piss her off, keep her filthy, and get her kidnapped. 

Cam did a once-over of all their injuries and wanted to know the names of the doctors and surgeons who operated on each of them. Once her initial inspection was passed, her lip started to quiver, and she wrapped Brennan and Daisy in respectable hugs, holding on for a lot longer than Booth realized was usual for her.

Caroline gave them shit. Accused them of causing a ruckus just so that they could come home five months early. Booth knew she was all bark and no bite, but kept her secret. When no one else was looking, he saw the concern on her face as she looked at the young doctor she's come to know after all these years. When she noticed Booth looking at her, she narrowed her eyes and slapped Booth on the arm. He didn't bother asking what for. 

They all went to the diner for dinner. It was good, it felt normal. Everyone was laughing and catching up on what had happened in the last seven months. Hodgins and Angela talked about Paris. Cam talked about work and Michelle. Sweets talked about his time spent as a piano lounge performer. Caroline said she had a lot less to worry about due to the fact that none of them were around to get into trouble. 

The whole time, Booth’s leg pressed against Brennan’s, and his arm was around the back of her chair. 

They stayed until the diner closed, and then everyone went their separate ways. But Booth stayed with Brennan. They walked along the street for some time, even though Brennan’s stitches gave her a bit of a limp. She never complained and didn't say she needed to stop, so Booth let it go. He did, however, lace their fingers together as they walked, doing one of the things he said he was going to do in his letters. 

When he noticed she was going a little slower and wincing a bit more, he hailed her a cab. It felt like deja vu. But this time, he wasn't going to let her get away.

“Come home with me.” He gripped her arms.

She didn't even hesitate. “Yes.” 

Booth’s smile was beaming; it spread across his entire face. He helped her into the cab before getting in himself and telling the driver his address.

She was limping pretty badly by the time they were walking out of the elevator in Booth’s apartment. Brennan complained about Booth helping too much, but he caught the way her breath hitched when his hand wrapped around her hip. His first instinct was to go for the couch, but it was late, and there was no way in hell he wasn't going to sleep next to Brennan after just getting her back.

“This is awfully forward of you, Booth.” Her voice was low, and despite her comment, she made no move to stop Booth from leading her into his room.

“Well, I think we've waited long enough, Bones, don't you?” Her knees hit the edge of his bed, but he doesn't push her anymore. “Wait here.” He said, reluctantly letting her go to disappear back into his living room.

It took a few minutes for him to find what he was looking for, but when he found the field bag Brennan used at their crime scenes, he snatched it and hurried back to his room. Brennan was sitting on the edge of his bed when he showed up, but as soon as she noticed what he was holding, she stood right back up, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“Booth!” She gasped, one of her hands snatching the bag out of his hands. “Where did you get this? I thought it would be lost, forever in Maluku.”

Booth shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “We found your jeep at the edge of the jungle, and I found that under the seat. Thought you might want it back.” 

“Yes, I do. This bag is very important to me.” 

She started digging through it, pulling out loose papers, her fancy flashlight and blood detector glasses, a kit she often used for analysis on the go, and a bunch of other things. The bag was practically empty now, but Brennan was still searching through it. It made Booth smile; he knew what she was looking for.

“Are you sure everything was in here?” Brennan asked, letting the bag fall to the floor. 

Booth shrugged, his hands behind his back and out of her view. “Yeah, it should be. What are you looking for anyway?” 

“My journal.” She states, not looking up from her search.

“Your journal, huh?” He feigns ignorance. “I thought you said you didn't find anything. Why would your journal be so important?” Brennan is too distracted to hear the teasing in his voice.

“Even though our findings did not meet our expectations, it is still good to keep a detailed document.” 

She's lying. Booth knows she's lying because he's known her long enough to know when she's lying, even with her improvement in that area. He also knows because he's seen that his letters are tucked away in the back of her journal. So what if he decided to see how she would react? He's a man in love, and it feels good to see it with his own eyes as well as hear it come from her mouth. 

After staring at Brennan for a bit too long, he finally brings the journal out from behind his back. “Oh, you mean this journal?” 

Her head snaps up to meet his, and she bolts to stand in front of him, grabbing the journal from his hands. “Where did you… Why did you-” Booth can't help but smirk at the redness that coats her neck and cheeks when she finally realizes he already knew what she was looking for. “The letters. You knew they were there.” 

“Yeah, I knew.” His voice is soft and low when he says it. “I'm honored you kept them so close.” 

“They're very important to me. I've said so in my own letters.” She grips the journal to her chest. 

Booth takes a step forward, a little hesitant. He keeps going even when their chests are practically pressed together, stopping when Brennan’s knees hit the edge of the bed again. This is when he stops, letting her be the one to initiate. Even after seven months of writing letters, holding onto their feelings, and her being so worried about losing his letters, he's a little worried she might freeze up and take it all back. 

Booth holds his breath as Brennan breathes deeply, dropping the journal on the bed before placing her hands on his chest, just like she did at the airport. She grabs his jacket and removes it from around his shoulders, slowly, and it's torturing Booth not to touch her back. He stays still and waits for what comes next. When her fingers grab the hem of his shirt after his jacket falls to the floor, a warm feeling envelops him. Once his shirt is off, Brennan trails her fingers over his ribs and chest, paying special attention to all the faded scars. 

He feels cold when her hands pull away from his skin, but it doesn't last long because she's using them for something better. She grabs the belt of her jacket, shrugs it off, and is about to undo the buttons of her shirt, but Booth can't hold back anymore. He takes a step closer and does it for her, slowly so that maybe she can feel a bit of the heat and the want that he feels for her. 

When her shirt is off and she's left standing there in her bra, Booth softly places his hands on her hips to bring her closer to him. The bruises and injuries from being captured make guilt pinch at the base of his spine.

“I'm sorry.” He traces a purple and yellow spot that's about the size of a baseball. “I should have been there sooner. I should've been there with you.” 

“You couldn't have known that-” She cuts herself off for his benefit. “You couldn't have known. And you were there, when it mattered, you were there.” 

Before he can apologize again, Brennan closes the gap between them and matches their lips. Booth is all too eager to give in and forget about the past week. The kiss heals something in both of them, and it's the first one they are both completely aware of. It's not just a kiss on the forehead while Brennan is asleep. It's not a soft peck on the lips after waking up, too drugged up to feel it. It's real, it's deep, and it's everything.

“I love you, Bones.” It feels good to say it again. 

“I love you, too, Booth.” 

She sits down and crawls onto the bed, Booth not far behind her, swiping all the contents of her bag off the bed so they don't get in the way. Part of Booth thinks that Brennan will snap out of it, claiming her blood detector is fragile, but to his delight, her full attention is just on him.

As she lies back, she grabs Booth around the neck and pulls him as close as she can. He supports his weight on his forearms so he doesn't hurt her sore body, but that doesn't mean he doesn't kiss her as hard as he can. He kisses her, their tongues dance, her hands roam, and they lose themselves to each other. 

Sweat develops on their bodies, and their chests heave. Booth can't help but leave a trail of kisses from her mouth, across her cheek, down her jaw and neck, sucking against her collarbone, until she gasps in pleasure as he makes it to the soft swell of her breasts. 

“More!” She begs, gripping Booth’s hair tight like a vice. “Please, Booth. I need you.” 

“Where? Tell me where.” He asks, not letting up with his kisses. 

“Everywhere!” She moans, her body convulsing off the bed. “I need you everywhere and I need you naked.” 

Booth feels himself grow impossibly harder as he reaches beneath Brennan's body to unclasp her bra. “That can be arranged.” 

The fabric loosens around her chest, and her breasts are free from its hold. Booth can't help but swear at the sight of her peaked nipples. He can't help it when his mouth decides to attach to one of them without him really thinking about it first.

“Yes!” Brennan sobs, holding him close. Booth swirls his tongue around the tip and gets a whimper in response. “I always knew you were going to be good at this.” 

Well, if that didn't boost his ego… Booth can't help but smirk against her body as he drags one of his hands down to the waist of her pants. He manages to grab both her pants and underwear in one go, leaving her bare from the knees up.

“Booth, I want you naked too!” 

“We’ll get to that.” Booth reluctantly detaches from Brennan and sits up.

He just stares at her for a second, really enjoying the view of her naked body. The bruises are a bit of a hindrance, but not because he doesn't think she's any less beautiful; he could never think that. It's just because he feels guilty that she had to endure that pain. If he could have switched places with her, he would've done so in a heartbeat. Once he's stared at her for a bit longer, he gets to removing her pants carefully, keeping mind of the stitches in her leg. 

“This doesn't seem fair.” Brennan pouts, reaching for the buckle on Booth's belt.

“Bones.” Booth grabs her hands from him and instead laces their fingers together before pinning them on either side of her head. “Please, let me take care of you.” 

“I can take care of myself.” She sasses, which he loves.

“Yeah, I know.” He kisses her again, devouring her and absorbing her moans of pleasure. When he pulls away suddenly, Brennan lifts her head off the pillow to chase him. She's confused as to where he's going, but doesn't get a chance to voice it before Booth’s mouth is pressing a kiss just below her navel, just inches away from where she needs him. “But like you said, I'm good at this.” 

Before she can say anything in response, Booth is going down on her, his tongue marking a path along her slit. The screaming moan he gets in response is all the encouragement he needs to keep going. He sucks her clit into his mouth, licks at her pussy like it's his last meal, holds her stomach to the bed to keep her from thrusting off of it, and relishes in the sounds she's making.

“Oh my god!” Brennan groans, her legs wrapping around Booth’s middle. “Just so y-you know… that is ju-just an ex-pression.” It's funny how she's trying to explain this while her hands are fisted in the sheets and Booth is fucking her with his mouth. “This does nnn… not mean I believe in your… Jesus ! Myth.” 

Booth pulls away just to tease her. Brennan whines in protest. “Yeah, I know Bones.” He takes a second just to admire his handiwork. Her hair is a mess on his pillows, her skin flushed with heat, her core dripping with arousal, and she's looking at him like he's hung the moon. 

“Booth.” Just that one word conveys a lot of meaning. She needs him, she wants him, she craves him. What does it say about Booth if he denies her? He's never been able to say no to her, and he's not about to start now.

He leans back down and gives her what she wants. She pants and moans and convulses. He can feel how close she is, so he brings a hand up and circles her entrance as a warning before pushing two of his fingers into her tight core.

“Oh yes! Keep going!” He eases his fingers in and out in a steady rhythm while her orgasm builds. “Booth! I'm coming, yes!” He helps her ride out the high, slowing down his strokes until she's liquid and spent beneath him. 

Booth kisses his way back up to her head and positions himself on his side next to her. “I love you, Temperance Brennan.” He kisses her temple and drapes an arm across her stomach.

“I love you, too, Seeley Booth.” She adjusts so she's on her side now, facing him. “Now, can you please get naked and make love to me like you said so in your letter?” 

Like he said, he's never been able to say no to her.

~~~

What they're doing is silly, Brennan knows this, but it's something they promised to do. 

One year ago to the day, they made a promise. A promise to meet back here at the reflecting pool by the coffee cart. They promised that they were going to be together as a couple and navigate a new normal.

In reality, they have already been doing that for five months. They spend alternating weeks at each other’s places. Booth has taken Brennan out to nice restaurants where they got dressed up and drank fancy wine. He's brought home takeout from her favorite Thai place and showed her all his favorite movies. He's taken vacation time when she has to fly off somewhere to give lectures and attend conferences, allowing her to buy him a first-class ticket just so they can be close to each other. Brennan loves it all. She even loves how he shows her off to everyone and presents his “alpha male” status by keeping her close. They hold hands, they kiss, they make love. A lot. 

What's even more silly is the fact that the two of them decided that they would walk separately, as if they were coming from different places. They aren't. They left the hospital together after visiting Angela, Hodgins, and their newest addition, Michael Stacatto Vincent Hodgins, still dressed as Buck and Wanda from their time undercover at the bowling alley. 

The feeling she gets when she sees Booth still surprises her. It's as if her heart skips a beat, which she knows is not scientifically possible. He's smiling when they lock eyes from across the grass. She can't help but smile back. They continue walking until they are standing right in front of their bench. Brennan grabs Booth's hand and brings it up to her mouth so she can kiss his knuckles. Booth chuckles as they both savor the moment before he moves his hand so he's cupping Brennan’s jaw.

“One year.” He sighs, his eyes bright and happy. 

“One year.” Brennan repeats, kissing the man she loves. “Booth, I have something to tell you.” 

“Oh no.” He whines a bit dramatically. “Please don't tell me you're going to Antarctica or somewhere on the other side of the world for eight months again?” 

“No.” Her serious tone and expression get Booth to calm down his dramatics.

“What is it, Bones?” 

She hesitates opening and closing her mouth once as if to gather her thoughts. “They looked so happy. Hodgins and Angela.” That's not what she was going to say, but Booth, being used to her abrupt subject changes, takes it in stride.

“Yeah, well, they just had a baby.” He sits down on their bench and pulls her down with him, a puzzled look on his face. 

Brennan looks out across the reflecting pool. “Their whole lives have changed. You'd think they’d be a little more apprehensive.” 

“Well, you know, having a baby, that's a good thing.” He grabs her hand and squeezes it before looking out at the pool himself.

“You-you really think that?” She turns to look at his side profile and studies him like she has been for years.

“Yeah, it's a great thing.” He turns to look at her. “Wh…” Booth catches the uneasy furrow in Brennan’s brows and stops short. “What? Oh, come on. Bones, look, the baby… the baby’s fine. It's healthy. They had a healthy baby. All right? They love each other. This is the happiest day of their lives. Okay?” 

She loves how he tries to comfort her over worrying about her best friend, but his comfort is misplaced. It takes him another second to figure out that that isn't it, but he's clueless as to what else it might be.

“What?” He asks again, turning his body to face her.

His answers reassure her. What he had to say about Hodgins and Angela having a baby, that it was the happiest day of their lives, reassured her. She just hopes that it can apply to a different situation.

“I'm…” She starts, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I'm pregnant. You're the father.” 

Booth’s expression is blank at first but slowly shifts, the corners of his mouth raising in a beaming smile. Brennan can't help but smile back, now finally being reassured. He lets out a shocked laugh, eyes sparkling like the stars above them. 

Suddenly, he kisses her, hard and loving. Then in the next moment, he's pulling away from her and running around the grass. 

He yelps out an exclamation that Brennan can't quantify, his voice carrying out over the pool. “I'm gonna be a dad again!” Tears begin to fall from her eyes as she watches the man she loves make a fool of himself. Booth then suddenly turns around and runs towards Brennan, grabbing her hands in his own and flashing her with a huge smile. “Ya hear that, Bones? I'm gonna be a dad again!” Then he's gone again, running around, thrusting his arms up above his head, as if celebrating a victory. 

She can't help it. She loves being irrational with him. Which is why she gets up and chases after him, folding their hands together as they run around in circles, celebrating their victory. 

They might not be starting their relationship on this day, one year later from when she confessed her love, but they are starting something. A family.