I'm not even sure why I started writing this one... it sorta just came to me. Anyways, just a quick explanation before you read: This is based in the very early stages of Season 5, so Bones and Booth are not together and she has distanced herself from him after how close they got at the end of Season 4, which is something he doesn't understand and hasn't really had time to.
"What's up, Ange?" Booth asked, walking into her office with a frown. He cast a concerned glance back over his shoulder at where his partner had her back to him up on the lab platform. This didn't go unnoticed by Angela, who had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised when he turned back to her.
"You know what's up," she stated calmly.
He groaned internally. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. Didn't he have enough problems trying to sort through this mess with Bones, without having the artist throwing in her opinions and her side of things as well? He could barely cope with one issue, and his sleep was certainly suffering for it.
"Ange, she won't talk to me; I don't know how to get through to her."
The woman sighed, and motioned for him to take a seat while she leaned against the Angelator to address him. He felt uncomfortable, like he was in the principal's office after causing some sort of disaster in the hallway. But her gaze was pitying now, rather than confrontational.
"You need to explain some things to her, Booth, and I mean actually explain. Don't just use that 'I care because I'm your partner' crap. And the best friend gig ain't gunna fly this time either."
He stared at her in shock. "What?"
"Booth, we both know this case hit her hard."
No kidding, he thought irritably. Foster care cases were bad enough without throwing in that the victim had been fifteen and according to the files they had she'd been sexually abused. Bones' reaction to all of it had been unpleasant, not that he'd expected better. But still, he hadn't been thinking that she'd shut him out along with everyone else. She seemed to be pretending the world didn't exist outside of this lab, and the way she icily dismissed any attempts at concern for her well-being was only confirming the sick feeling in his gut that she felt a connection to this victim that he would certainly prefer she didn't.
"I just wish she'd talk to me."
"Then make her," she answered firmly, "Don't you dare let her keep this up, or I will blame you. You know you're the only one who can through to her when she's like this, and I'd really like to see a bit more effort."
He felt his fists clench, and he gritted his teeth. "You don't think I'm trying? Every single time I try to get her on her own... help her out... offer to take her to get something to eat... she acts like we don't even know each other! Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"
"Yeah, I do," she said calmly. He felt the anger drain out of him and sighed, burying his head in his hands. Lately he was just unable to do anything right, it seemed, and yelling at other squints to take out his frustration towards his inability to help his partner was not going to help things one bit.
"Sorry, Ange," he said, glancing up at her. She just nodded at him sadly.
"She's my best friend, Booth, and I don't want to lose her any more than you do. She's doing the same thing to all of us... you aren't totally alone. But if you'd just let her know how much you want to help her, maybe she'd finally see it."
"What do you want me to say, exactly?" he asked, tensing as he waited for the answer he knew would be coming.
"Tell her you love her, Booth. Just... do it, okay? Stop being so afraid; she needs you."
Somehow, the usual frustration at Angela's attempt to get them together didn't come. It was probably because of the look in her dark eyes, he thought, and the way they seemed to shimmer like she was holding back tears. She wasn't just teasing or trying to play matchmaker, not today. This time she was trying to help the both of them, and he couldn't deny that her sincerity hit him rather painfully. How was he supposed to do this? Yes, he wanted to hold her and stroke her hair and rock her in his arms like someone would do for the woman they loved, but she wasn't exactly going to comply to any of his wishes. Not Bones.
"You really think that telling her that is going to help?" he asked resignedly.
Angela's lack of excitement at his basic admittance to the fact he loved Bones added to the dark cloud that hung over the entire Jeffersonian. There was a brief spark in her eyes that told him she was glad of the fact, but besides that... nothing except for the advice she went ahead to provide.
"Yeah, Booth, I do. I think Brennan... well I think she's just as upset by her past as she is by how we all react to it. I mean, we've always known she's terrified of being abandoned, so if you treat her like you care she thinks that it can't really mean anything. Especially with what she must be reliving..."
He winced at that last statement. "Yeah," he muttered. "I tried telling her I cared about her and it was almost like that made it worse. She shut her apartment door in my face."
Angela cast him a sympathetic look before she continued, "She can't believe it," she explained, "And she's afraid that if it's true then it won't last or something like that."
He looked at her in slight admiration for a long moment. "How do you know that?"
"I've known Bren for a long time, Booth, I've gotten pretty good at reading her. You have too, of course, but I knew her when she was younger... and she wasn't as compartmentalized as when you got here. She told me a lot of things before she hardened up and pretended her past didn't happen." He nodded, and so she went on with what she'd been saying before. "If you prove to her that you care because of something, then she might understand better. Tell her..." she shook her head suddenly, "Tell her what you feel is right. I know you can do it, Booth."
"And what if telling her I love her scares her more than everything else so far has?"
"Then we don't give up," Ange said, crossing her arms. "We will never give up on Brennan, not as long as I'm here. Or you are," she amended, seeing the look on his face.
"When am I going to do that, exactly?" he added as an afterthought, only making it halfway towards the door before he was unable to finish the journey out to his partner. "I can't really just go up and start talking to her while she works up there..."
"It's late," Ange said with conviction, "She's gotta go to her office at some point. Follow her, okay, Booth? Don't let her walk out of here without making her understand that she doesn't have to hide herself from us, from you."
He nodded and headed once more for the door, pausing with his fingers around the handle. "Thanks, Ange," he said, attempting to offer her a smile that he knew came out more like a grimace.
But she shook her head at him, "Thank you," she turned his words back on him. "Make her happy, Booth. Make her safe."
"I will." He finally exited the room and found himself underneath the brilliant lights of the lab. Bracing himself, he made his way to her, and then stood off to the side and watched in silence, every move that she made hurting him. She worked methodically, but it wasn't her usual manner of thoroughness. It had a more cold aspect to it, and everything she said or did was clinical and without the slightest trace of emotion. Her eyes were a paler blue than he'd ever seen them, and her skin was pale. Shadows under her eyes showed that she hadn't been sleeping properly either, and her hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, showing him that she'd taken the time to flatten every strand perfectly before going to work. She'd probably stood in front of the bathroom mirror like a robot. It hurt him more than he could say to picture that.
More than anything in the world, he wanted her back. The Bones that he'd had before, with her adorable cluelessness and their friendly banter. The way her eyes shone with excitement when she figured something out, or how they flared up as though someone had lit a fire behind them when she was defending a theory to him. He missed that, her passion. It seemed to have vanished along with every trace of who she had been to him over the past four years.
If someone asked him who she was, he would not have answered the automatic 'Bones' that was engrained in his mind. He would have stared at her for a long moment, for the first time having to consider. She was not Brennan or Bren, because the friend Ange had found in her was just as gone as the one that Booth had known. And Dr. Brennan, as a formal title, would have fit, but it wouldn't have at the same time.
He would have had to answer something that made his throat tighten and his heart clench at the thought.
He would have said, "I don't know," because she wasn't who he knew, or who anyone knew, and the person in front of him was a dark shadow of the woman he'd grown to trust and care about more than anything in the world.
The urge to grab her and wrap her safely in his arms, beg her to just be herself again, was almost impossible to fight off. He needed her back with the same intensity as a man who'd gone without food for days craved a good meal. He needed her back in his life, or he was pretty sure he was going to go crazy.
Finally Cam came out of her office and in a firm voice that didn't match the expression in her eyes or on her face, told both of them that they needed to wrap it up and go home, or she'd have security force them out the doors.
Angela passed by, attempted to catch Bones' eye and failed, and then gave Booth a piercing but urging look before she vanished out the doors. Cam shut the lights off in her own office, called out one more warning, and then followed her.
Booth wished he could be like her, and just command Bones to do something. Instead, every fiber of his being was telling him to comfort her. No matter how much good it would do her, he could not seize her and forcibly drag her to the diner so that she would have a meal for the first time in two days. He just couldn't do that to her.
Without looking at him, she set down the piece of skull she'd been holding and whisked past and down the steps. He followed at a slower pace, and paused outside her office door. He could see her inside, putting her things neatly in her bag and hanging her lab coat with precision on its hook. She pulled on her own jacket with the same silent and stony manner.
Just as she was pulling her bag over her shoulder he pushed the door open and knocked softly on the wood, peering his head around it. She didn't look up, and pretended as though she hadn't even heard him. His heart was thudding in his chest with the anxiety of the situation, but he took the step and moved his entire body inside, shutting the door and standing in front of it so she could not leave without at least speaking to him.
She went around behind her desk and shut her computer down, straightening papers and sliding some into a file which she stored carefully in a drawer. Never once did she make eye contact with him, and her body language didn't even suggest that she knew he was there. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought he'd somehow become invisible to the rest of the world.
"Bones," he said calmly. Nothing. She came around her desk, put a book back in its place on the shelf, and then made her way towards him.
He didn't move.
She stopped directly in front of him, staring straight through him as though she could see the door handle that she needed to reach on the other side of him. The illusion of being invisible was increasing, but he didn't give in.
"Bones," he said more firmly.
Then, at long last, she made eye contact with him for the first time in two days.
The glare she sent him almost threw him off his feet. Her eyes seemed to go on forever, and he stared into their depths as though he could not look away, which in fact it seemed he couldn't. A storm was roiling there, and he could practically see lightning flash as she stepped towards him menacingly. She didn't speak, but the look was enough to convey every message she could possibly need to send.
With great effort, he remained standing where he was.
He saw her jaw clench out of the corner of his eye, since he could not break the contact between their stares, and for a moment he feared she might actually attack him and forcibly remove him from her path.
Then she did something he didn't expect. With the single word that escaped her lips, the look in her eyes transformed, although it was for a split second.
"Move," she hissed. The storm seemed to intensify so that he could suddenly feel every ounce of pain that was swirling through her mind. The word seemed to reverberate through the recesses of his brain, echoing continuously in a chant of suffering and fury. More so than the anger behind it, though, it revealed the torture she was suffering on the inside.
In seconds her eyes were back to the stony ice-gray they had been, and they flashed dangerously with another spark of that lightning.
When he still remained where he was he saw her falter slightly, saw her hesitate. He could have sworn he saw the faintest bit of moisture glaze over her look, but it vanished in a flash. Then he was assaulted by an array of emotion, from pleading to desperation to another bout of pure anger. How was that even possible from just a look in her eyes?
But it seemed to be radiating off of her entire being, from the way she held herself and the way she tensed slightly or leaned forward or bent her head. Each reaction lasted no longer than a second, and she seemed to be at a loss for a proper way to confront the situation. She obviously didn't know what to do or how to remove someone who was not intimidated by her fury alone.
He wanted to move, he realized suddenly, feeling an ache in his legs. He wanted more than anything to stand aside, to let that relief shoot through her so she could escape, so she could be free. But Ange's words cut to the core of him once again... and he knew that he couldn't just let her walk out of here. He couldn't do what would save them both the emotional toll if it meant losing the long-term effects. He would have to fight this battle, and it would help him win the war. He couldn't give up one, or it would destroy the other.
If he backed down here... would he ever find the courage to stand up to her and tell her the truth? This was going to hurt, yes, and it was going to take a lot out of both of them. But he didn't have much of a choice if he didn't want to lose her... and losing her was not an option if he wished to continue living.
"Bones," he said again, and he saw a flash in her eyes once more, not anger, but rather fear. It would have worked, too, but his resolve had strengthened. He didn't have another option. He cared about her too much. "Bones, we have to talk, okay?"
He held his breath as she stared back at him, her fists clenched at her sides. She didn't appear to be breathing at all, nor had she been that entire time, he thought. He felt like he was going to explode if this went on much longer. It was like he'd been running a marathon and he'd only just begun, knowing how much further there was to go...
Finally she shook her head fractionally side to side, the movement stiff.
"No, Bones, we have to," he repeated, "I need to talk to you. Please."
Another long pause. Torture.
A stiff nod, and then she spun on her heel and stalked back behind her desk, sitting down and staring at him as though daring him to protest to the seating arrangements.
He simply bowed his head, grabbed a chair from against the wall, and pulled it around so that he sat next to her rather than across. She tensed at that, but didn't get up and run, which he took to be a good sign.
"Please talk to me," he whispered, knowing that he sounded desperate and not really caring. He'd only heard her voice a few times over the past few days, and all of those had been when she was speaking with someone else... all of it pertaining to detailed and concise facts which he understood none of.
"What do you want?" was her way of complying. The harshness and the disassociation he heard there made him wince, and he gritted his teeth, feeling like he'd been slapped rather than just spoken to.
"I want you to stop shutting me out," he finally answered. "I want you to let me help you, rather than pretending I don't exist."
"I'm not pretending you don't exist," she answered, her voice betraying not a single trace of emotion. It was like she was reading out of a book rather than having a conversation. "I'm just choosing to be professional and actually do work. Maybe you should go back to the FBI building and do your own job rather than observing us do ours."
He hadn't really thought words could hurt more than physical pain, but those sent shockwaves through his system, like an electrocution. He breathed out a heavy sigh, his muscles tense from clenching his fists for so long. He stretched his fingers, staring down for a long moment before he finally raised his eyes to her. She was staring at him, which was still a shock given her ability to ignore him for so long. He couldn't get used to being paid attention to again, at least not in this way where he was more of an insignificant bug under a microscope instead of her friend.
"I'm not going anywhere, Bones," he managed to get the words out, with a bit of difficulty.
The way she regarded him next, and the words she spoke, brought back memories from a long time ago, from a part of their relationship he thought he'd never see again. It was something they'd both agreed unspokenly about, something that had been the tying line behind the relationship he so cherished.
"Don't call me Bones," she said.
And then she stood and she stepped around her desk, vanishing out the door of the office before he could even say another word to her, or attempt to stop her. She was gone, and he buried his head in his hands. He was broken, unable to move from the seat as he stared emptily at where she'd been just moments before. It was only several minutes later that he realized the coldness spreading through his face was not the blood draining from it out of shock... but rather tears, slowly making their way down his skin. He didn't bother to try to stop them.
Instead, he stood up and went to the door, staring into the deserted lab and shutting her office door behind him, not knowing if this place would ever be the same for him again... or if he'd ever even come back to it.
Well, what did you think? I wasn't sure how OOC Brennan was, but I was trying to put in a real strain on their relationship, and I could see her doing this with the combination of factors from the last season's ending and this case that I've given them... but I'm not in a position to say. You are :)
I'm going to continue this; there will be more up sometime soon. It won't be an incredibly long story like my other one, but I'm pretty sure it'll be a few chapters. We'll have to see. :)