She knew it wasn't her fault. Amidst the chaos and chatter in the bar, it wasn't easy to drag Booth away to discuss Jared with him. But they had, and she was glad. As with Angela though, she couldn't shake slight feeling that not everything was back to normal yet. And when she saw Booth drag his brother out to "get some air", she thought through her conversation with Booth in her usual, analytical fashion. However thorough she thought about it though, she could not get rid of what Cam and Dr. Sweets had said earlier in the day. It's pure conjecture, the anthropologist frowned, as she recalled exactly what the psychologist had said. There's no way Sweets could know that Booth's father was abusive. He's merely speculating. That's all. But what about Cam? Cam had said that she had known the Booth boys for fifteen years. Is it still conjecture then? But she hadn't said exactly what it was that became apparent in the fifteen years she had known Booth. Brennan shook her head gently at herself as she took a sip of wine, leaning her left arm against the bar and staring out the window. It was, to her, a great disability to not be able to read human emotions through micro expressions.
"Sweetie, this is party. It's a...oh, how do I put this? It's a social gathering to celebrate Booth's birthday. That means you have to do the 'social' part." Her best friend came over to stand in front of her, sighing at the frown on Brennan's face. "Is this about Booth? Cause I saw him drag Jared out the door and he did not look like he was going to give him a warm hug." The doctor's lips quirked up at the corners, recognising the humour. "What's wrong, Bren?"
"How could I have believed that Booth was a loser?" Hurt and bewilderment were clearly displayed on her face. "I let Booth think that I thought he wasn't as good as Jared." Angela leaned her elbow on the bar and sighed.
"Well, do you think that Jared is better than Booth?" The artist gave her a no-nonsense look.
"Well, not at investigating murders or...dealing with me. I know sometimes it can be...that is to say that sometimes..."
"Look, Bren. Yeah, it's difficult to deal with geniuses." Angela smiled fondly, reaching over to lay a comforting hand on the anthropologist's. "But I promise that Booth isn't 'dealing with you'. Sweetie, he enjoys working with you. We all enjoy working with you."
"Yes, because I'm intelligent." Angela rolled her eyes and chuckled. "But it was different, with Jared. He tricked me. He...charmed me." Angela sobered up, nodding.
"Yeah." There was a pause, the sound of the crowd of people laughing and talking filling up the empty space in the conversation. "But charm is easy. At least that's the way it seems for Booth and his brother. I'm not saying Jared's right, but maybe Booth's helped him out for so many years that he doesn't think he's wrong anymore." Angela sighed. "The point is that you shouldn't let Jared get in the way of your relationship with Booth – "
" – which is purely a professional one."
"Which is purely a professional one." The artist smiled warmly before giving her best friend a hug. "I'm glad you're okay, Bren. I get scared sometimes when you're in the field."
"You're my best friend, Ang. It's normal to be frightened at the thought of losing such a strong, human connection. Anthropologically speaking, it's – "
"—go get Booth some cake." She interrupted, laughing.
"What?" Brennan's face bore a perplexed expression.
"It looks like they're done talking. Jared's coming back in." The two walked over and Angela handed the doctor a slice of cake. "Go give that to Booth. And you know, just talk to the guy." The painter smiled reassuringly.
"Thanks, Ang." Brennan smiled down at the cake in her hands.
"You never have to ask, Sweetie."
She stepped out after Jared had come back in, clutching the cake. Her heart sank a little as she saw the FBI agent's posture of defeat sitting at the bus stop.
"Hey. You coming back in for cake?" She took a wild leap at a conversation starter, hoping Booth wouldn't be hostile. He sighed.
"Bones, I just...I just need some time." His shoulders slumped as if the weight of the universe was resting on them.
"Do you need time and space?" She pressed, hoping he would say no. She stood hesitantly beside the structure, not sure how far in she could go without invading his space. At her words, he looked up, a familiar smile gracing his face.
"Just some time." His words brought her comfort, and she moved to sit beside him, offering him the plate. After a companionable silence, he spoke again. "My dad drank." Brennan felt her heart break a little for him. Not knowing what to say, she sat in silence, waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, she spoke.
"That's not your fault, Booth." He reached over to take some more cake, smiling at her with tears in his eyes.
"Thanks, Bones."