Vanishing Point

She's said it before- though he wasn't around to hear it back then- there are no singular moments in history, just moments, and you almost always get a second chance. For him, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result(well, actually, that was Cam, but we'll ascribe it to him since Brennan did). This second chance won't lead to insanity...

It was Deja vu all over again as Booth watched the taxi's taillights disappear into the night, carrying his heart along with it. He could still feel the heat from her fingers slipping through his as he tried to hold onto her and in his mind his lips tasted like that unique mix of tequila and Bones.

The fact that the last time he'd let this happen it had taken thirteen months before she would talk to him again wasn't lost on him. But as he started to wonder how long it was this time, he pulled himself up short. Because this wasn't six years ago and they were far from the same people they were back then.

Double checking to make sure he hadn't left anything at the bar, he let his fingers brush over the well-worn poker chip as he took off at a jog for his SUV. He went into auto-pilot once he got going, leaving his mind free to pray like hell that he wasn't too late. A few minutes later he was pulling into the familiar parking lot, heaving a sigh of relief at the light coming out of her window.

Taking full advantage of his government plates, he landed in the first available spot and hopped out, saluting her doorman on his way in before taking the stairs two at a time. He almost used his key, then thought better of it given the razor's edge they had all been on the last few days and settled for an impatient knock.

B&B&B&B&B

Brennan had only just changed out of her day clothes and into something more comfortable when his knock came. Her heart clenched because she'd known that this night would either end in complete silence or in confrontation and she still wasn't sure which she preferred. Now their course was laid in and whatever came next it would start with that knock.

"I know you're in there, Bones," his voice, an odd mixture of patience and stubbornness, reached her. "You've got 'til the count of three to open up before I come in."

There was a moment of utter silence.

"One."

More silence.

"Two."

She vacillated, her heart longing to reach for the knob even as her brain tried to quickly construct a rational against it.

"Thr-"

The door swung open and his jaw went slack.

"Thanks, Bones," he said softly as she stepped aside for him to enter.

"You were coming in anyway," she shrugged, stating the obvious. "This saves me a door and you a sore hip."

"I have this," he dangled the key in front of her.

She bobbed her head in acknowledgment and slight chagrin, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she wondered what the socially appropriate thing to say would be.

"Bones-"

"Booth-"

The words were spoken simultaneously and another awkward pause ensued.

"You followed me," she broke the stalemate and he nodded. "Why, Booth?"

"You know," his eyes probed deeply into hers and even though they were a good six inches apart, they both felt like they were touching.

"I do," she admitted in a small voice.

No words, clever or otherwise, were needed between them and just like they had done so many times before, he stepped slightly forward and she fell into him. His arms wrapped around her fiercely and protectively, yet with a tender softness that underscored how deep his love for her ran.

The careful control she'd been exerting all day collapsed in on her and she buried her head in the familiar scent of his collar. Silent sobs wracked her body and he rode out the pain and confusion with her, rubbing small circles into her back and encouraging her softly to let it all out.

His tender touch only brought more tears, but she remained anchored to him as if unable to pull away. She wasn't sure how long they stood there, though the first thing she noticed as her emotions settled was that the front of his shirt where his jacket was open was soaking wet. The second was that his face had tear tracks as well.

"I hate that you see me like this," she murmured softly. "So weak."

"No," he shook his head, eyes boring into her. "No, you aren't weak. You're one of the strongest people I know. Today, on the stand, you were amazing, Bones!" He cupped her cheek, "I was so proud of you for putting everything out there. We nailed Taffet because you connected with the jury and put Taffet in her place when she tried to trip you up."

She was shaking her head violently, "You, and Angela, and Cam, and Hodgins-"

"We were good, yeah," he agreed, "but you were the one to get the tooth connection and you were the one who drove every one of the forensic parts home. And you showed that jury just how big your heart is."

The energy reserves that she had been pulling from, suddenly felt depleted and Booth steered them both onto her couch before her legs gave out completely. Somewhere along the way her hand had fused itself with his and as they sat down they became aware of it for the first time. Blue-grey eyes queried brown, pupils dilating while desire rose.

As one they moved forward and their lips met in the middle. Her tongue sought his out almost immediately and a frenzied dance began. The small whimper that escaped her, freed his hands to roam freely as he pulled her into his lap. Her hands were in motion now too, slipping his jacket off easily to give her further access to him.

She pulled back abruptly and his heart stopped.

"Wait," her hand on his chest stayed any forward movement. "What about Catherine?"

"We had two dates," he told her with a smile. "But I had to tell her I couldn't see her any more."

"You couldn't?" hope and trepidation laced the question.

"Nope," he was punctuating his words with kisses up and down her neck now, "turns out I'd already forged a social contract with someone else."

"Hmm," she suppressed a moan, trying to stay on topic. "Someone else?"

"Yup," their lips met and separated again, "someone who's got beauty and brains. Not to mentiona soft spot for pigs named Jasper."

"And Christmas trees," she added. "I told Andrew something similar, by the way."

"Good to know," his smirk was large. "Since the contract goes both ways."

"That was my conclusion as well," her voice was low and sultry and her fingers moved to brush his belt buckle.

His hips bucked into her involuntarily and his groan ignited them both as she began outlining the buckle more boldly.

"Like what you see?" he teased, scraping her lips with his teeth.

"Very Boothy," she answered.

The kissing intensified, then settled into a rhythm as their hands continued to roam free. She was the first to liberate him from his shirt and hers followed soon after.

"Beautiful," he breathed, enjoying the view before nestling his head in her bosom.

"You're not so bad yourself," she grinned, tracing his toned, pectoral muscles.

Her fingers stopped short at his shoulder and all motion ceased for a long moment. She pressed a soft kiss up against it before tracing it one last time, then as if of its own accord her hand moved to his scalp and the scar they both knew lay under his well-coiffed locks.

"Four days," she brushed the scar on his shoulder once more before meeting his eyes, "and two weeks."

"Yeah," he traced her jaw lightly with his thumb, unsure of what he should say to that.

"Losing you," she admitted, "is an extremely unpleasant experience for me even though I fully accept death as an anthropological inevitability."

There were a hundred thoughts that sprung to his mind right then, but they seemed inadequate or trite so instead he merely nodded and enfolded her in his embrace; the intimacy of their bare skin connecting not lost on either of them.

From the pile of clothes on the floor a ringtone sounded, shattering the silence.

"Let it go," he told her when she began to shift.

"It's your phone," she pointed out.

"That's what voicemail's for," he smiled. "Besides, I'm a little preoccupied right now." She arched an eyebrow and he continued as the call went to voicemail, "It's true. In fact I predict my lips are about to be very busy."

True to his word, their lips collided once more, only to be interrupted yet again by Booth's insistent phone. For a second time he ignored it, focusing instead on the woman in front of him and how long he had waited to do this with her. The third time his phone rang, he swore and she suggested he answer it as it appeared someone wanted very badly to get a hold of him.

After fishing around for it, he flipped the phone open, keeping an arm around his partner as she stretched herself out on the couch and rested her head on his chest.

"Booth," his chest rumbled in her ear and she could hear the barely veiled irritation in his tone. Almost immediately his body stiffened, "Yes." The voice on the other was too low for her to hear but she could tell that the news was not favorable. "Of course. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He closed the phone mechanically, letting it fall out of his hand and back onto the floor, then encircled her with his arms and held her tightly.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently.

"Pops had a heart attack," the words leaked out of him as if he still didn't quite believe them. "I'm his medical proxy so they called me."

"Is he-" she couldn't finish the question and risk the pain it might cause him.

"No," Booth sniffed, shaking his head and sitting them up; his grip on her remaining firm. "Well, not when they put him in the ambulance at least. He's on his way to the hospital now."

"You need to go," her voice was firm, but soft.

He nodded reluctantly and looked up at her, "Come with me?"