Standard Disclaimers: I don't own Bones and never will. I've read a lot of fic that had a bit of a more polarized view of the events of "The Doctor in the Photo" and Hannah in general. Nothing against those ficts – but I got something quite different out of that last scene in the car and thought I should share. No bleach white heroes, no cardboard cut-out villains. Just hurt people.
Belated Mourning
He's never seen her cry like this before.
The earnest look on her face is one he knows well, the one that used to get under his skin and still sometimes does. Just as he knows the brightness of her smile as she tells him that she made a mistake, rambling and talking about insubstantial things like the universe, and chances, in ways that he has a hard time following.
She can't say it plainly though. She tells him that she doesn't want to regret.
She does not ever tell him that she loves him.
So he speaks the truth, reaching out in the language of facts, her language, for her. He tries to remind her of what she already knows and, uncharacteristically, isn't factoring in.
And she sits in the seat beside him and cries and he feels helpless.
And uncertain.
And, in the parts of himself he doesn't like, just a tiny bit vindicated.
He'd already had to mourn the loss of what she'd meant to him. He'd stared into the darkness. He'd cried. He had put on a brave face and told himself that her friendship was enough.
And he'd done all of it alone.
The solitary mourner for what they could have been together.
It was only fair that she have some realization of what they'd missed now, wasn't it? Better late than never. When something so wonderful was lost, it's right to weep.
At least now she understood.
At least she did if it was love, and not just regret…
He'd spent months trying to show her, to tell her that his heart was hers. Here. Take it. I'm yours. I love you. And she's known. She'd always known. They were close, closer than most married couples, closer than best friends.
But that hadn't been enough and she'd glided out of his reach, danced to the side, smoothly sliding around his silent declarations while every once in a while showing longing of her own.
Or what he had thought was longing.
Until he spoke it to life for them both.
Until she shut him down without hesitation.
No. Not a good idea. Don't. For his own good. For the fear widening those blue eyes of hers.
She pulled away. She pulled away but not completely.
Not at first. Not until she couldn't stand it anymore and she sent him off to a war zone with the scent of her hair in his nose.
And now, now that he'd been hardened, now that he'd killed even more men and failed to save even others, now that he'd healed some, found someone who didn't look at his love with disbelief, challenge it, question it, test it…. she wanted to pull him in.
God, Bones…
She's crying and he hurts for her.
But while Temperance Brennan's walls may have come down in the jungle air and the clarity of isolation, Seely Booth's have come up.
She talks, and he can't find any words to comfort her. There's just silence and the stone in his gut. He can't find any words to make this better. Nothing will make this better.
He'd gambled for them both, and failed.
Now, he deserves the chance to be the one to keep himself safe.
He watches her leave the car until he can't bear it. Can't bear to see her shoulders so slumped, bear to see the smile she's pasted on. He has to close his eyes.
Bones…
I just… can't… shatter myself for you again.
He watches the closed door to her apartment for several minutes before he finally, finally drives away.
…even if I wish I could…