Bones said no. He had laid his heart out and offered her everything, and she said no.
After dropping her off at her apartment, Booth drove around the city. He drove around, block by block, not knowing exactly where he was going. He just knew he needed to go.
Tired of the silence, and what his thoughts were doing to him, Booth punched the button to turn on the radio a little too hard.
"So why are you running away?" Hoobastank sang through the radio. Booth immediately pushed the "seek" button and found another station.
"Everything I have I owe it to you," the next song rang out. Booth changed the station just as quickly.
Jeez, is everything against me tonight? He thought.
"Yeah, I'm hot blooded, check it and—"
Booth punched the button again to turn the radio off. This wasn't working. The driving around, it was only leaving him alone with his own thoughts. Or the radio's thoughts, which was almost worse. Before he knew it, Booth was headed to one of the only people he really trusted.
Hopefully, this will help, he pleaded.
Knocking on the door, Booth was practically shaking. Bones was all he could think about, all he could really see.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry. We're closed!" A man's voice greeted his ears through the glass doors.
"Gordon Gordon!" Booth yelled, rapping on the glass again.
"Oh, Agent Booth! What on earth are you doing here?" the older man unlocked and opened the doors, allowing Booth to enter.
"I told her," was all he could trust himself to answer.
"You told who? Dr. Brennan?" the chef guessed. Booth looked down. "Ok, you told Dr. Brennan what, exactly?"
"I told her," Booth started. "I told her that—"
"You told Dr. Brennan that you love her?" he surmised. Booth nodded. Gordon had never seen the younger man quite this—distraught before. That was the only way to describe how he looked: sad. "Ok, Agent Booth, have a seat. I'm going to make you a scrumptious meal, and you shall tell me what all happened."
Booth recounted the events of that night while the older man cooked. At points, his voice cracked, and he would pause to regain his control.
"…So I…I told her that I have to move on. That I have to find someone who will love me for 30 or 40 or 50 years," he paused. "And you know what she said? What her…response to that was?"
"What was it?" he asked, placing two plates on the table.
"She says 'I know'. She doesn't know. I know."
"And what do you know, Agent Booth?"
"That we're meant to be together! That…that I love her."
"Do you love her?" The older man questioned, taking sip from his water glass.
"Gordon," Booth sighed, exasperated. "Have you been listening to a thing I've been saying all night?"
"Yes, I have…which is why I'm asking that precise question."
"Of course I love her. You know that," Booth watched the man nod. "Sweets knows. Angela knows. Angela's psychic knows, for Pete's sake. And Bones…"
Booth paused, swallowing the sudden urge to cry, "Bones knows. I—"
"Oh, does she now?" He interrupted the younger man, who now looked confused. "Does she know you love her, Agent Booth?"
"What? I mean…yeah. Of course she does. How couldn't she? Everyone tells her that I am. Angela tries to convince her on a daily basis to give me a chance."
"But have you told her?"
"I...I don't know. I don't know."
Booth thought about it. He'd told her, hadn't he? He quickly replayed the last 5 years in his head. Unable to think of when he'd said it, he went through tonight's events again. Booth let out a sigh.
"I never told her, did I?" Booth gave in.
"On the contrary, Agent Booth. You told her in every way you know how. You've been there for her; you've never left her side. In all the ways that truly matter, you've told her. But—"
"But I've never said it…"
"Precisely."
The two men simply sat for a moment. Gordon Gordon quietly finishing his meal, and Booth stared blankly at the tablecloth. The older man finally broke the silence.
"Well, I'm not sure why you're still sitting here with me," he chided. "I believe you have a woman to sweep off her feet."
"Thanks. For the…meal," Booth stood awkwardly and headed for the exit.
"Do you know what, Agent Booth?" Gordon stopped him at the door.
"No, I don't know," he answered, confused.
"Exactly."
"What?" Booth asked, confused.
"Have a good night, Agent Booth," the chef watched the younger man leave and began to clear the plates.
Booth exited the restaurant and climbed into his SUV. Starting the car, he was surprised hear the radio automatically start. A Hinder song met his ears through the speakers.
"Maybe we're not meant to be…"
Booth sighed and slouched against the seat. He'd tell her. He would. He'd just tell her—later. Now clearly wasn't the right time.
He put the car in drive and pulled out onto the road. He was headed for home.