Disclaimer: I do not own or lay claim to anything even tenuously associated with Bones; it belongs to various individuals and corporations who are considerably more talented and well-off than myself. I am only playing with the aforesaid characters, situations, settings, etc. for my own amusement and am making no profit whatsoever from this (other than the bettering of my writing skills and my own amusement). No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: The quotes referenced in the beginning of this fic come from a chat that Brennan and Angela had in the pilot episode.
The heart can not break. It is physically impossible. The heart is an organ – muscle and soft tissue – which can be torn or crushed; it is not hard or brittle, and thus can not be broken.
Words, like a Greek chorus, echo in her mind. Angela: "…people are mostly soft". Herself, in reply: "except for their bones".
Hearts are not hard, but bones are. Perhaps Booth named her aptly, after all.
Hearts can not break, but when she remembers that look in his eyes – as though his metaphorical organ was being ripped out of his chest – she feels as though her own heart is being constricted.
You brought this upon yourself, she reminds herself firmly.
She let this… thing… go too far. She always knew that they would both get hurt, but she'd been weak, had allowed herself to revel in his propinquity, had allowed him to get close in the first place.
She is a scientist, one whose experiments have spiraled out of her control (if ever they were within her jurisdiction to begin with), and she doesn't know what to do. Because she can't – she can't – open her heart any further. And it isn't that she doesn't want to, but she simply isn't capable of it. And Booth deserves so much more than what she can offer. He is a good man – the best man she knows – and he deserves to be happy, to be loved by someone who knows what she's doing.
She doesn't know what she's doing. That scares her, because she's Doctor Temperance Brennan and Dr. Brennan always knows what she's doing. She's made a career of not only knowing what she's doing but being the best at whatever she does.
This is all for the best.
She knows that most people will think (if – and oh please, don't let them – they ever find out about this) that she turned him down because she's afraid that he'd wake up one day and see the real her; that he'd see the real her and not like it, and abandon her.
But that's not the reason at all. She knows that Booth would never willingly abandon her, abandon anyone to whom he'd pledged his devotion.
No, she's afraid that he'd wake up one day, see and dislike the real her, and stay anyway.
She refuses to let him trap himself with her out of pity or misplaced duty.
If only she had remembered this sooner, she could have prevented that stricken look in his eyes, this ache in her chest. If only she hadn't been selfish, hadn't ignored all of the signs. Because she knew how he felt; of course she knew. He was never exactly subtle about it. And she's an anthropologist, which means that she's more than adequate at interpreting body language. But she hadn't wanted to know, not really, so she'd ignored it. Hoping that it would go away if she just didn't acknowledge it, like an ostrich with its head in the sand. If I can't see you, then you can't see me.
Foolish; irresponsible.
She has been grossly unfair to him without intending to. Looking back at her actions, she realizes that she's been giving off signals that could easily be misconstrued by someone as emotional as Booth. And if rectifying that mistake causes them both pain in the short run, well, it's worth it. Because Booth is worth it.
And she will protect him. Even from herself. Especially from herself.
The heart can not break, after all.
He will heal from this and move on. He will find someone who can love him, who will still love him 30 or 40 or 50 years from now. This will happen because he is Booth and it is scientifically impossible that he won't find someone to share his life with.
And so, even though it feels as though her heart is being wrung like an old dishrag, she hurts him. It's for the best.
In the end, this will all have been worth it.