1.
"You drunk?"
He turns, obviously not surprised that she's arrived. Hannah really doesn't know anyone else in DC. She has her answer right away—his pupils aren't dilated, there's a fluidity in his movement, and the bottle in front of him is still almost full. "No," he answers.
She can think of a number of reasons why off the top of her head: how badly he reacted to alcohol poisoning earlier that week. The early hour. His dislike of tying alcohol to emotional events. In any case, it was a redundant question.
"Hannah called me." She takes his silence as acknowledgement. "She told me what happened. Because we are friends."
"I'd rather not talk about it."
"Oh. Of course. We could…talk about other topics. I have become quite adept at the movements of current affairs." He still doesn't say anything, so she continues, "For example, we could discuss the implications and ramifications of the recent populist uprising in Egypt. Dr. Hodgins has spoken of little else in the past week, so I feel like I have an adequate grasp on the situation."
She's halfway through her opinion on the relative importance of the unemployment rate in contributing to the revolt when she thinks that perhaps Booth is not paying attention. He's hasn't said anything, is staring off into the distance, and shredding the label on his beer in a methodical fashion. She pauses, unsure of where to go next.
He turns to her. "And?"
"Oh. I surmised that you were thinking of other matters."
"I'm always listening to you, Bones. It's…proven helpful. You were saying?"
She's confused and thinks that the pieces don't quite add up. But Booth said she was being helpful, and she'll continue to try to be so.
2.
"…no, I am not a drunk."
"You sound…something. Hannah called me—"
"Just…I really…I don't want to talk about that—"
But she interjects, because she has to say this.
"I find myself quite upset with Hannah."
She thinks she's surprised him, because he turns around so quickly that he spills a bit of his drink. "You what?"
Or maybe it's just too loud in the bar; that is also a possibility. "I said, I find myself quite upset with Hannah," she repeats, louder, enunciating every syllable.
"Jeez, Bones, no need to yell, I heard you the first time."
Oh. "I find it exceedingly hard to believe that she would do such a thing to you."
He mutters something that sounds like "join the club," but now is not the time to be clarifying odd colloquialisms.
"I care about you, Booth, and I want to see you happy, but…" she's aware that there's very real possibility that Booth will misconstrue her meaning, so she hurries on, "I am disappointed in her. As a friend, I told her about your monogamous tendencies and adherence to traditional societal values, but it appears she was less intelligent than I presumed."
He still looks confused, so she tries to find a way to explain. "I told her that you would commit yourself entirely, because that's how you approach your life. I have years of empirical evidence to this point, and I related this to her."
"You gave Hannah advice?"
Even she can't mistake the incredulity in his voice, and she finds that she's slightly hurt. "I am more than capable of dispensing advice, Booth. I…I merely drew upon my own evidence. Because you are a very committed…partner."
"You said I didn't have evidence," he says, and she can see that she's losing him.
How to make him understand? She turns to him, trying to relay her sincerity with every fibre of her being. "I was wrong, Booth. You are the evidence, your every action is evidence. Hannah merely failed to notice. Or I failed to convey it to her."
Her expression is pleading, and for a moment she feels like it worked. He's looking at her, the way he used to. The silence extends, and they simply look at each other.
And then he turns away. "Yeah, well, let's look at the evidence, shall we? Because I'm batting zero for three and it's time I took a look at my swing."
It's not enough, of course—his confidence is shaken and he's upset, and logically she knows that the healing process will take more than 'three days.'
But what's important is that she's there for him.
3.
"…I'm over it…I'm done, OK?"
"So, what happens next?"
"What happens next…what—"
"—with us," she adds, impulsively. Later, she won't be able to recall exactly what made her say that. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, the confusion of rushing here, the jarring news…
But for now, he just looks at her, taken aback. She can see him sifting through her words, weighing them carefully.
Her heart beat is much louder than normal, the steady thump-thump drowning out much of the ambient noise of the bar. "What now?" she repeats, consciously trying to speak softly.
He laughs, in a short, curt manner that is not at all indicative of joy. "What us, Bones? What is there to us? There's just me, here, alone. Again."
"That…that is an erroneous statement. You are most definitely not alone."
"That's not the view from here."
"I'm just…just…"
"You have your family. You have your colleagues at work, at the Jeffersonian, some of the patrons here."
He half-smiles. "Look at you, throwing my own words back at me. Attagirl, Bones."
"…you have me," she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper.
At this, he slams his glass on the bar. "No. No, you don't get to say that. That is…wrong. You and I…we lost what we had. Okay? We lost it."
The pounding hasn't stopped, and it's now accompanied by a faint roar. She feels like she's fighting herself to be heard, but she has to win. "Did we?"
He shrugs in response, picking up his glass.
"But then…we can find it, can't we?" The roar vanishes. This is concrete. This she can do. "If it's lost, we can find it. We will find it."
4.
"Those are my only choices?"
"Yes."
"Then…I choose to leave."
She's not quite prepared for the look on his face. It somehow crushes her own heart even more than anything else she's ever experienced. But she finds the strength to stand up. "That's…that's not the choice I want to make, Booth. I find myself wanting…more."
He's silent as she walks away.
ooo
She doesn't leave him there—as soon as she leaves the bar she calls them and arranges for a cab to take Booth back to his apartment. Because he won't have thought of it, and she knows now that sometimes she has to take care of him.
Maybe he's not willing to offer his heart to her, but she finds that she's willing to wait.
ooo
He cashes in a few of his vacation days, and his empty office is such a bizarre sight that Angela, turning in her latest sketches, sends her a picture of the darkened room with the caption 'G-Man's down!' She agrees with the metaphor, since Booth feels like he has been shot in a non-literal fashion.
She doesn't go to see him. She has this feeling that it would be wrong, somehow. Intrusive. Right now, all she wants to do is be there for him.
So she sends food to his house. Thai, mostly, but also some Italian and Chinese that Sid picks out.
ooo
It's almost two weeks before he shows up to the lab with a new assignment, and she falls over herself trying to observe him while simultaneously examining the reports filed by the FBI techs.
A cursory glance indicates that he seems fine. Closer inspection suggests he isn't sleeping very well and is tired while shaving in the morning. At least, she notes with some satisfaction, he doesn't seem hungry.
Their conversation is measured, polite. He finishes describing the remaining details and then adds, seemingly as a side note, "I've been vetting some other field agents, and it comes down to Agents Perotta and Katz, who you haven't met. They work as a pair, though."
She forces herself to remain calm. After all, she had made her choice in full understanding of the consequences.
After he leaves, she goes down to Limbo and just sits behind Unidentified Persons, circa 1950 for hours.
ooo
There's a learning curve with Agents Perotta and Katz. They address the interns as Dr., ask about technical details, and accidentally sign Angela and Hodgins up for couples counselling. They are constantly asking for her opinion on unsubstantiated hypothesizing and expect her to join in.
She finds herself severely annoyed but refuses to send them away. It's vexing, but Booth picked them and she trusts his judgement.
She tries to subtly ask them for information about the Bureau, but has the distinct sensation that they can see right through her. Eventually, Agent Perotta starts volunteering information without being asked. She learns that Booth has been promoted, that he helps train new recruits, and that he's looking to expand the science/FBI program.
She knows Booth; he wants to be out in the field again. She compiles a list for him of the best forensic anthropologists, categorized by location, experience, and willingness to relocate.
ooo
It's a few months in when things finally come to a head. The remains are those of two three year old girls, they aren't getting anywhere, and tensions are high. The media, the bureau, they all press and press for a new lead, a new anything, but she has nothing concrete to give them.
Agent Katz snaps first. It's ugly and vicious, and before long there's a full fledged standoff on her platform.
It's nothing she hasn't heard multiple times before—emotionless shell, lack of feeling, barely human. These are someone's children, how can you not be moved by that. What sort of depraved person are you.
She knows that human beings tend to lose control over their actions and words when inflamed, but she can't help but feel hurt and betrayed, just like she has a hundred times before. Each new barb somehow manages to penetrate deep with her, until she can't take it any longer.
Tears are rolling down her cheeks despite her best attempts by the time she pulls out of the parking lot. She's glad that it's late and the streets are empty—it's hard to concentrate on the road.
The work that she enjoyed has become stifling, and she can't ignore that any longer. She'll call up…someone and hand in her resignation to the FBI, maybe go to South America. The Jeffersonian has a dig there, and she thinks that it might be nice this time of year.
ooo
An hour later, her phone rings. She automatically lifts it to her ear. "Brennan."
"…Bones?"
She sits up, suddenly alert. "Booth?"
"Yeah…how are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you for asking," she replies, before it dawns on her that he must have heard about the incident in the lab. Even if he hasn't, once upon a time he was able to tell when she was lying.
"Look, I heard about what happened at the Jeffersonian today—"
She braces herself for the worst.
"—wanted to see if you're okay."
"I'm fine, Booth, thank you. It was a small misunderstanding." She hopes that the tremor in her voice isn't readily apparent.
"Well, that's not what I heard, and that's not the confirmation that I got. What Agent Katz did was completely out of line."
"We're all rather worked up about this case, Booth."
There's a long pause, and she checks once or twice to see if the line has been disconnected. Finally, quietly, she hears,
"I think you're lying, Bones. Can I come in?"
There's a soft knock at her door, and she nearly falls off of the sofa in surprise. She crosses her apartment to the door and opens it slowly, revealing Booth. After one look at her, a scowl appears on his face.
"You're not fine."
She pauses for a long moment before acquiescing and nodding. As she's enveloped, she thinks that she doesn't need to be brave anymore.
5.
Her mind might be whizzing at nearly light speed, formulating and discarding hypotheses, but she's cognizant of reality all the same.
She's sitting at the bar, drinking in silence with Booth, and there is no easy fix.
He's drinking and he's angry, and he doesn't understand her frustration with Hannah. He doesn't realize that she's thinking of them, of their future. He's badly hurt, in that emotional way that she now knows all too well.
Of all the ways this night could have turned out, she's not sure whether she picked the right one. She's not even certain she could have picked another alternative—perhaps she's forced to concede that fate had some role in bringing them here, to this point.
For the moment, however, she is ready to be there and do what it takes to help Booth. Because there infinite possible futures, and she wants to be in every last one of them.