She's regressing.
She had thought she was evolving. But evolution only goes in one direction: forward, for better or worse.
This is definitely not forward, and not for the better.
She feels more like she is playing some sort of insipid board game: two steps forward but three steps back.
She's lied for him before, to the FBI nonetheless. But tonight she just can't summon that strength before a less official audience.
"Booth went home to have sex with Hannah."
She doesn't maintain eye contact long enough to see Angela's shock at her bold statement, instead turning back to the bar to take a gulp from the goblet of wine the tender has placed in front of her.
At least she has the foresight to make sure Sweets is out of earshot first. Forward.
Of course, he doesn't needle her as much these days anyway, only bringing up her third wheel status when Booth is present, and dropping the issue quickly.
She fails at convincing Hodgins that she had no prior knowledge of the baby. Baby Montenego-Hodgins. Back.
Later, after Vincent and Sweets have been poured into a cab she finds herself watching infomercials, too wired to sleep, despite the bottle of wine she and Cam shared at the bar. Is this forward or back? She can't decide. Seven years ago she'd use this time to work on a manuscript or critique an article for a colleague. Now she's watching a bottle blonde with artificially emphasized cheekbones demonstrate the multitude of uses for a snuggy. However, she is watching it on a 96" plasma.
No one even questioned her acquisition of said television when she revealed her guido-viewing habits.
Is that because they believe she's changed? Or do they just no longer care?
Old Brennan would have had to coerce Old Booth to vacate her sofa late in night after forcing his way into her apartment to see proof of the television for himself.
New Brennan can't remember the last time he set foot in her home.
She is the one to initiate physical contact now. A touch on his shoulder or grab at his arm to get his attention. Forward.
But her efforts go unreciprocated and he's annoyed with her all the time now. Back.
She'd find his reaction rational if it were due to her constant needling about the state of his relationship with Hannah. She knows he finds her questions intrusive and personal, but can't help herself in trying to uncover any evidence that makes sense of his relationship with Hannah in light of the claims about love and happily ever after that he's been spouting at her since they met.
But what appears to actually bother him is her presence. Car rides are now mostly silent and she is largely absent from the interrogation room. She isn't even invited to watch from the other side of the glass mirror, much less feed him questions and insight and bicker with Sweets.
So she overcompensates when they do speak. Tells jokes that fall on deaf ears and are too literal, even for her. He seems embarrassed by her, for her. Back.
Old Brennan would be on a plane back to Maluku or Guatemala right now. But she remembers the anger in Cam's eyes when she returned the last time, the disappointment from Wendell at putting her own needs first. Even she is hard pressed to distinguish her desertion of her Jeffersonian family from what her parents did nearly two decades ago. Forward.
But she also finds it more difficult to actually engage with any of them. Late, late on a Friday night Angela and Hodgins have returned home to build baby furniture, Cam departs to watch for Michelle at curfew and Daisy disappears to some clandestine meeting with Sweets. She, however, sits alone in her office hunched over x-rays of some long-dead soul. Back.
Twenty years ago she expected to be alone.
Five years ago she had a pseudo-family she never expected. Forward.
One year ago she now dares to admit she possessed an inkling of hope. Forward.
The television gives a blast of noise and turns to static at the late hour.
Back, definitely back and back again.