“This is terrifying.”
“That's okay. You won't be alone.”
“I…-want- this to work.”
“Me too.”
“Please be patient with me?”
“Always.”
“We go slow?”
“I'm a patient man. We go at the pace you're comfortable with.”
“I don't think I'm an easy woman to love.”
“I'll be the judge of that. I think you're amazing just the way you are.”

Gabi was pacing in her apartment, running her hands nervously through her long black hair. Two weeks since she had met Seeley J Booth. Two weeks since they'd had a conversation that didn't actually -define- anything.

“What does this make us?”
“Seeley and Gabriella.”
“No titles?”
“No. I'm not going to see anyone but you. You're not going to see anyone but me. But I'm not using titles like 'relationship' or 'girlfriend' around you yet. I don't want to scare you even more. If someone asks me who you are to me and you're not in earshot? You're absolutely my girlfriend. If you're in earshot? You're my… Gabriella.”

He'd been out of state on an assigment, and though they'd talked every night, Gabi had worried about him. Missed him…and now he was back. Dress comfortable, he'd said. I'll come pick you up at 7.

She was dressed in jeans. A hoodie. Sneakers. But she'd left her hair down. And it was now that she was pacing, her fingers wringing each other. Waiting. Her breath was shallow, hitching. An anxiety attack on the way. Shit. She looked for coffee only to find she had none. She went into her bathroom and looked for her medication, not finding it. Shit.

It was 6:50.

Seeley had been looking forward to it all day. He'd had a skip in his step that nobody could fail to notice. Even Bones asked him if he was seeing someone new. He'd been a little cagey, given his conversation with Gabi, but he did finally admit he had a new girlfriend. She wasn't in earshot, and he did admit he would do that.

Dress comfortable. He figured he knew that meant dress down to her. But it was a day at work for him, so he was in one of his smartly tailored suits. Black, crisp white cotton shirt with silver cufflinks, thin black tie, black lace-up shoes. All contrasted by the 'Cocky' belt buckle at his waist and multicolored stripy socks. His way of showing his life wasn't just black and white.

He pulled up in the nondescript black SUV that everyone knew was an FBI vehicle. The barely hidden lights, the fact no-one else drove them. It was a sign that said 'you don't mess with these guys'. It suited him.

He bounded up the stairs to her apartment, two at a time, with an energy he hadn't felt outside of his work for a while. He caught his breath smoothed down his tie, checked his suit. And knocked.

SHIT!!! Okay. Calm. Breathe. What do we do when we don't have our emergency medicine, Gabi? Breathe. Speak. “Come in!” She called, dashing into her kitchen and opening her fridge. Coffee. Chilled cappuccino. Close enough. She -chugged- it. It was just enough caffeine to ease the edge of the attack. She could work herself down from there. Oh right. Door was locked.

Maybe actually -check- who it is, Gabi?

She peeked through the peephole in her door and shuddered, her stomach turning. Oh god don't throw up on him…wait…this….this turn is…different.

She looked again and her stomach did that odd turn that was not her normal anxiety.

Butterflies. Oh. OH.

She pulled open the door and greeted him with a smile…cappuccino mustache and all.

“Seeley.” She said, her smile audible in her voice.

“Come in!” OK, why wouldn't she lo-it is locked, she's freaking out. That quirky grin dropped for a fraction of a second as he worried about her, then back to that boyish, happy-go-lucky look she had fallen for. Support her, give her what she needs.

He choked down a chuckle, turned it in a mild snort of amusement when he saw her face. And that mustache. He reached inside his suit jacket, pulling out a cloth handkerchief and reached up to wipe the froth from her lip as he stepped forward, across the threshold, into her apartment. “Drinking that frothy crap again?”

Gabi was mortified for a moment, but something in her eyes softened as he wiped her upper lip. He didn't draw attention to it, her anxiety attacks were something she'd had to tell him about early on. Instead, he asked about her -choice- of drink, and she laughed for a moment, then ran a hand through her hair. “In emergencies, beggars can't be choosers. Katie left it here. Thank God she did.” She said quietly, admitting to him she was doing her very best to hide her anxiety attack from him. “Yes, it was gross. Far too sweet and thick.”

Seeley folded the cloth so everything was safely hidden inside and returned it to his pocket for future use. Or just to chuck in the laundry when he got home. He could tell she was struggling with admitting she was anxious, hiding it behind a facade of humor, although still subtly admitting it. He would notice. Others might not. She was well aware of how observant he was.

“She loves the stuff. You know I can't stand it any other way than untouched.” He was aware, but he wouldn't draw any attention to it. That would only be to push her buttons, the bad ones, and since the first time, he'd been loathe to do that. Sure, it had happened, but he was devastated each time he did it. He meant to make her happy, protect her, make her feel like love was real. When the person doing that pushes the wrong buttons? She needed to be protected from him. That's hard to do when you're doing the protecting as well.

“Ready?”

“Me either. Either way, it was only strong enough to take the edge off.” She admitted, letting him know that she was still dealing with it to an extent. He'd pushed the wrong buttons a few times, but Gabi was still here. She was coming to learn that when he did push those buttons, it was never on purpose. But once a wrong button was pushed, she knew it wouldn't be pushed again. He'd promised her he'd be patient. She understood it meant she had to be patient too as they learned where the limits laid.

At his question, she had turned slightly. Right fingers to her forehead, the center of her chest. Front of her left shoulder, then the same spot on the front of her right shoulder. Holy Mother, help my nerves settle down… She turned to Seeley and smiled, threading her arm through his.

“Ready.”

He led her out, let her lock the door behind them, then down the corridor to the stairs. He parted from her for the few seconds it took to get down the stairs, with how awkward it would be, and barely wide enough for the pair, but he waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs to offer her his arm once more. Then out to his vehicle.

He slipped her arm out once more and pulled the door open for her to sit, standing where he could offer her a hand in if needed it.

“So, how do you feel about the range?”

She had her left arm through his right arm until they parted to go down the stairs. At the bottom, her left arm again slipped through his right, but this time, her right hand came over, resting gently curled over the crook of his elbow. She missed you, Booth.

A smile grew on her lips and she paused a moment before getting in. “The second most effective thing to coffee is firing a gun.” She quipped with a chuckle as she took his hand before getting in. Not because she needed it. But because she liked these little gestures he did. Whoever said chivalry was dead had clearly never met Seeley J. Booth.

His smile never left his lips as he helped her into the car. There were some who would complain about his little gestures, holding a door, helping a lady into the car, showing a little courtesy. But it was part of him. And he would never change.

Once she was seated inside, he closed the door behind her and jogged around behind the SUV. He could have walked, but he wanted to be there for her, a grounding influence. She needed him. He opened to door and climbed in, sitting in the familiar seat. “Seatbelt.” He did his own then keyed the vehicle into life, made sure hers was firmly in place, then pulled away, heading towards his home. Second home. Place of work, really.

“It's incredibly satisfying, isn't it?”

Gabriella grew up in an Italian mob family. Criminal activities aside, they tended to be an old-fashioned bunch. During their hours-long conversations, while he was on assignment, Gabi revealed herself to be rather conservative. Despite her ink, she dressed relatively modestly, actually. He'd seen the rosary on her nightstand during a video call, the cross on her wall. Seeley's gestures were part of an etiquette Gabi grew up thinking was the status quo. Imagine her shock when she dated that one boy in high school. Held no doors for her.

Seeley even closed the door too. She pulled on her seatbelt at his reminder, and she didn't bristle at all. Her brain could get chaotic during an anxiety attack. She'd given him all the ins and outs of her attacks, so he'd know what to do in the worst of cases. He was simply helping her. One less thing to stress about remembering. “Oh yes, it is. I…” She swallowed. “…hope the range is the only place I ever use mine.” She wasn't disparaging his work, she greatly admired him for it. But even this melancholy moment, most likely made even more so by her anxiety, passed quickly. She wanted to enjoy his company, not worry about the danger of being…her.

Her hand rested on the center console. They'd not had much time between that day at the cafe and him leaving for his job. Her fingers had yet to be laced between his…and here she was….offering.

No.
Asking.

Hold me?

Seeley turned his head to look at her for a moment before returning his view to the road. A tinge of regret, quickly hidden by his usual facade, happy to be with her. It wasn't hard to hide his regret for the many he'd killed in the line of duty, he'd been doing it for most of his life. It's why he did the job he did. Justice. Trying to bring in as many criminals as he could to balance those scales. “It's just part of the job, to me.”

He caught her hand in his peripheral vision, on the center console. Open. Inviting. It wasn't something he expected from her, with how closed she was most of the time. But then it dawned on him that this was private time, between them only.

It took him a few moments to get comfortable and shift his grip on the wheel. He lowered his hand to hers and…

He held her.

Gabi turned her head slightly to look at him. For a few moments she was quiet, only when his hand descended, only when her fingers crossed between his. Only then did she speak.

“I don't think any less of you for it.” She replied, squeezing his hand. She knew some of her family had been killed by men like Seeley. It was entirely possible Seeley might have killed one of the Carmichael faction. But, mafiosos knew what the risks were when living the lives they led. Gabi would have had a stain-free record if homophobic assholes hadn't attacked her best friend.

“I don't have much pity for them. The mafia. They made their beds. I knew from an early age I wanted nothing to do with it.”

Seeley tilted his head a little as she spoke, opening his mouth to follow up just as she continued. He waited for her to finish, then waited a moment as he readjusted his angle of attack to align with the new information. It pretty much covered his own opinion of them, so he didn't have to say anything further on that.

“That's refreshing. A mafia princess, wanting nothing to do with the family.” He had something else he wanted to say on the subject but held back as it might be a button. He was trying to learn his way around her, and it meant he would show caution at times. This was one. She had a chance to run if he said the wrong thing, so it could wait.

Then something she'd said earlier clicked. Something he wanted to pump her for. It wasn't that part specifically he wanted to bring up, so he didn't need to be as cautious.

“I looked up your record.” He didn't need to specify it was before he'd even met her, and he'd stored that info for later. “You did a good thing. But I can see how hard it was.”

Gabi's chuckle escaped then, a sound he'd first heard over the phone., her head shaking as she smiled. “I am no mafia princess. I've never fit that stereotype. Some of my cousins in the Francone family, yes.” She turned her head to him and smiled. “Would you rather have a princess? I'm sure I could set something up.” She teased softly.

She grew quiet when he spoke of her record. “Little Ange and I met in fourth grade. Our families didn't think much of it because we were kids and friendships can be so fleeting. As we grew we only got closer and closer. I was the first one he told when he realized he was gay. I kept his secret. Our families tried to separate us but we always found a way. Little Ange grew taller and more muscular than Big Ange, and he marched to his father with me in tow…and told Big Ange that I was his best friend and “That's that, Dad. Take it or leave it.” She smiled at the memory. “Big Ange took it.”

“I was at class when the…” She stopped and looked at him. “Seeley…please…promise me this stays between us…especially what comes after this. If it ever leaves this car…I'm a dead woman walking and my days numbered.”

There it was.

Giving him everything that could destroy her…and trusting him not to do it.

Next: Survivor's Guilt