Disclaimer: If I owned any part of Bones, I wouldn't preempt for American Idol every spring.
By the time Brennan unlocked her front door and stepped inside, she felt exhausted. She'd gone by Booth's apartment and his office, called his cell, sent him a text…all to no avail. She could only guess that he'd either gone off some place where she wouldn't think to look or he was intentionally ignoring her. Both seemed to be equal possibilities.
She kicked off her shoes as she edged towards the couch, but, before she could sit down, she froze. At any other time her half seated position might have been comical, but instead all she could do was focus on the scuffling sounds coming from the direction of her bedroom.
Within seconds she straightened up and hurried further into her apartment. She was either being robbed or -
"Booth…" Brennan breathed out when she found him moving around her bedroom. The only sound to greet her was the protesting screech of one of her dresser drawers as he yanked it open. It was only then that her brain registered the half-stuffed duffel bags on her bed and the whirlwind appearance of her room.
"Booth!" she tried again, more insistently this time.
When he still failed to respond, failed to even look at her, she walked in between him and the bed as he headed back from another drawer. This time she caught the flicker of acknowledgement as it passed over his face…right before he abruptly pushed her aside.
"Don't bother, Bones." The single sentence dropped heavily into the dead air. He blindly stuffed a handful of shirts into the nearest duffel before walking briskly towards the closet.
"Please…
"I can't believe how blind I've been." The words started to spill out of him, even as he continued to refuse to look at her. He yanked a few dress shirts off of their hangers, and she could hear as a button pinged off of the closet door. "I mean, really? How many times have you 'worked late', or 'had to write', or 'it's been a rough case, Booth, I just want to go home and sleep'?"
Brennan tried to move in front of him again, tried to force him to at least stop and talk to her, not just at the room, but he deftly dodged right around her.
"What was it tonight? 'I have a meeting with my publisher.' What a crock of shit," Booth spit out. He practically punched the next shirt into the bag.
"If you'd just let me explain," she whispered. The world was both figuratively and literally spinning. The pounding in her chest and in her temple only accentuated Booth's frenzied movement around the room, and all she could do was stand in the middle – the center of all the turmoil.
Booth paused at the dresser. Maybe he was watching her in the mirror or maybe the reflections he was seeing were of what he'd seen earlier in the evening. "Let me guess, he's your new publisher, and you just haven't had a chance to tell me."
"Booth…" This time her voice was pleading, breaking.
"Except for the fact that Anna called two days ago and left a message on your machine, and I was standing right next to you when you listened to it. You'd think she'd have known she was quitting or getting fired, or maybe she just won the lottery and moved to Bermuda overnight. Is that it? Should we send her a 'Congratulations on winning millions of dollars' card?" With a jerking shake of his head, Booth pulled himself out of his reverie and started grabbing random objects off of the dresser. "I guess we probably don't have her new address though."
Something in this last tirade sparked something in Brennan though, and she stepped towards him. Her hands sliced through the air in front of her as she insisted, "This isn't that serious."
Finally, this was enough to get Booth's full attention. Throwing a can of deodorant in the direction of the bed, he turned on her so fast that she had to take a quick step back, and even then he had grabbed her by her upper arms before she could get out of the way. "Not that serious? Bones, I'm packing my things. Is that serious enough for you?"
Brennan could see the rage burning in his eyes. Now that she had his attention, she couldn't escape it. His hands were gripping her arms tight enough to hurt, but she didn't see any sign that he was planning on letting go. She never was one to be intimidated, though, so instead she pushed back. "No, I say you're overreacting."
Her back thumped against the wall before she ever saw it coming. Booth still had a tight grip of her arms, so it was more as if he'd forcefully walked her into the wall rather than pushed her. It hadn't hurt in the slightest, but her mouth still dropped open.
Now it wasn't just the anger that Brennan could see. His arms were trembling as his chest jerked in and out, and his face was pinched in such a way as if he was truly fighting for control.