So with the premiere of Bones only two weeks away, and with all these dang promos coming out, I felt like I had to process the unbearable horror of it all. Booth falling in love in Afghanistan. Booth telling Bones he misses another woman. Booth kissing another woman. Bones having to witness this horrible reunion of her partner/love-of-her-life and his Afghani fling. God. I just couldn't take it. I had to fix it. Hence, this slightly angsty piece, that, of course, ends happily for all involved. Except Hannah. *Evil snicker*

Enjoy! :)

I Promise

"Booth said he'd be here soon," Hannah said, smiling. "He got stuck in traffic." Across the table, Brennan nodded but didn't reply and Hannah felt obligated to fill the awkward silence. "I can't believe we haven't done this sooner," she commented, feigning polite amazement. "Booth talks about you all the time."

"That's probably because I'm a very important part of his life," Brennan stated. She paused and her eyes flashed with some hidden truth. "Professionally, that is," she amended in that clipped, almost clinical tone that Hannah had at first mistaken for coldness.

"Yes, well, he thinks very highly of you," Hannah said kindly.

Brennan nodded. "Booth appreciates my skill for identifying remains. Catching murderers is very important to him."

"His work as a sniper really changed him," Hannah said, remembering the frequent nightmares he endured in Afghanistan.

"Booth seems to be under the impression that there is some kind of cosmic balance in the universe. He wants to catch as many murderers as people he's killed. It's a ludicrous sentiment, but I've committed myself to helping him in that endeavor."

"I don't think it's all that ludicrous," Hannah said.

Brennan blinked at the contradiction. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I don't think Booth is under the impression that there is a cosmic balance that must be kept in check. I think his desire to capture as many murderers as people he's killed is for his own benefit." Hannah shook her head and smiled a little sadly. "I think it's his way of easing his guilt."

Brennan was quiet for a moment, regarding Hannah across the table. "Perhaps you're right," she finally said. She took a sip of water and glanced at her lap. "I'm glad Booth found you," she admitted. Her voice was softer, gentler somehow, a tinge of shyness breaking through her passive façade.

Hannah nodded, a small smile flitting across her face. "Thank you."

"I want Booth to be happy," Brennan continued. "I worried that after I turned him down he wouldn't be able to move on, though he said that was his intention."

Hannah frowned. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "You turned him down? When?"

"About a year ago," Brennan replied conversationally, as if they were discussing the weather. "He said he would like to try partaking in a romantic relationship with me, but I said no. Taking into account our differences, I determined that Booth and I weren't very compatible, romantically at least. Booth is very idealistic and tends towards wild notions of undying love and soul mates. I'm more rational, a scientist." She shook her head. "It never would have worked."

Hannah was quiet for a moment, feeling strangely calm at the anthropologist's blunt admission. She didn't feel surprised or angry or even jealous. Brennan's detached, oddly neutral manner was disarming and surreal. It left Hannah feeling clinical about the whole thing, removed from the raw emotion of it. "Can I ask you something?" she finally said.

Brennan nodded. She held her body stiff, her arms tense at her sides. Hannah thought she looked uncomfortable. "What did he say when you turned him down?"

"He said that I was right," she replied. "Then he…then he said that he had to move on." For the first time, Hannah could see a crack in Brennan's defenses as she struggled around the words, her jaw hard, her eyes shining. "He said he had to find someone who would love him in thirty or forty or fifty years." She dropped her eyes to the napkin folded in her lap, then lifted them to Hannah's face. "I guess that's you."

As Hannah studied her face, saw the conflicting anger and hopelessness and fear stirring in her eyes, she had the oddest urge to apologize to this woman who loved the man she loved, this woman who couldn't admit it, this woman who didn't even deserve an apology. "What did you say?" she asked. Her voice was soft. Maybe she didn't want to hear this anymore.

"I said, 'I know'," Brennan told her, just as quietly.

Hannah nodded, feeling something shift inside her. "Okay."

She didn't drop her eyes after that and neither did Brennan. They sat staring at each other, as some sort of understanding settled between them. When Hannah heard footsteps behind her and Booth's voice calling out to her, she stood and walked towards him, halting his movement towards the table. "I need to talk to you," she said gently.

His smile faded into a frown of confusion. He nodded warily. "Okay."

Hannah walked outside in front of him and remained with her back to him, facing the street, the cars rushing past. "I had a nice talk with Dr. Brennan," she said.

"Oh?" was his cautious response from a few feet away.

Hannah turned. "She's a bitch." Booth was too startled to respond, and she didn't give him a chance to recover. "She's in love with you."

He was shaking his head before she even finished the sentence. "No, she isn't," he said with a tinge of bitterness. "I spent a long time figuring that one out and I can tell you that she is most definitely not in love with me."

She shook her head. "She's just scared, Booth," she told him, then paused. She wanted him to hear this. "You are too."

"Hannah—"

"When you said you wanted to be with her and she turned you down, you said you had to move on."

It was surreal to be getting a recap of the most painful moment in his life from the girl he was dating, but he didn't fight it. "Yes," he confirmed.

"And what did she say?"

"She said, 'I know'."

She was quiet for a minute as she let that sink in. She took a step towards him, her face tilted up to his. "She's waiting for you," she murmured. "And you still love her."

"I love you, too," he murmured.

She smiled sadly. Leaned up and pressed a light kiss to his lips. "Not as much as her."

He was conflicted. She could see that much. His guilt was there in the slight shake of his head, the furrow of worry between his eyes, but he didn't contradict her outright. "Hannah," he began. His voice was rough. "I'm sorry."

She nodded and rested her palm against his cheek. "I know."

—BB—

"Booth, where's Hannah—"

"C'mere," he said, his voice low and commanding.

She balked at the order and tensed away from his offered hand. "Booth—"

"Bones, come here." She didn't resist this time as he took her arm and lead her outside, turning the corner into an alley that ran beside the restaurant. "Booth, what are you—"

"Bones," he said, "stop talking."

"Booth—"

"Bones." His voice was hard. She shut her mouth. He moved closer, his eyes flaring, his breaths heavy. "What did you do?"

"Booth, I—"

"Bones!" He practically growled her name. It made her shiver. It made her ache for him. "You drove her away. You had no right to do that." He turned away from her. Turned back. "I loved her, Bones. Do you get that? I loved her. And you…you had your chance and you turned me down."

"Booth, I'm sorry—"

"Bones, please!" He was yelling now, his voice raw with anger and hurt. She let out a sigh and bowed her head forward. He moved away from her again. "I don't know what to do with you. You don't want me, but you don't want anyone else to have me."

"Maybe I do want you." She said it so softly, he almost didn't hear. He turned towards her.

"Maybe?"

She shrugged, her head tilted towards him in easy defiance. "Maybe."

He clenched his jaw. God, she drove him crazy. She had singlehandedly sabotaged his relationship in the span of about twenty minutes and yet her love for him was always changeable and indefinite, stated in terms of variables, never constants. "Christ, Bones," he breathed and closed the space between them, pressing her against the wall behind her.

Her back hit the bricks with a soft thud that sent the air leaking out of her lungs. "I loved her," he said softly, his lips pressed to the hollow of her throat. She sighed and pressed against him. He raked his teeth along the side of her neck. Kissed her jaw, her cheek, her brow. He met her eyes. "I love you more."

"I think…" Her voice trailed off into a sigh as he ran his hands up her sides, his body hard and warm against hers. "I think I love you too," she said breathlessly, not meeting his eye.

He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger and guided her gaze to his. "You think?"

She swallowed. He pressed closer, lifting her against the wall. She slid upwards. Wrapped her legs around his waist. Rested her hands against his shoulders. He gazed up at her, his eyes trusting and expectant. "You think?" he said again. He kissed her collarbone and the place where the fabric of her dress gave way to skin.

"I know," she said softly. He looked up at her. "I know, Booth."

He didn't smile, didn't nod, just watched her, studied her beautiful face. Looked up into the eyes that held her secrets and some of his too. She knew. She knew him. That had to be enough.

He released his hold on her slightly and she slid down the wall slightly, so that she was close enough for him to kiss again. Close enough for him to delve deep into her mouth, sweep his tongue across her tongue, taste the wine she'd sipped earlier, and that other taste that was just her, just Bones.

A moan rose up inside her and escaped into his lips as her legs settled around his waist, as his pelvis rose up to meet the restless shifting of her hips. His movements were loving but laced with the urgency of his need, with the anger he had felt only moments ago, the anger that was still there in his bruising kisses, the possessive nips at her neck. When he swept his hands across her breasts, she let her head tilt back against the wall with a groan, giving him the access he craved. He bent his head forward. Ran his tongue along the edge of her dress. Pressed his lips to the top of one breast, then the other.

"Booth," she gasped. He didn't give any response besides an incoherent mumble into her cleavage. "Booth," she said again.

He shook his head slightly. Lifted his hand and dipped one finger below the hem of her dress, dragging it across her hardened nipple. She moaned and writhed against him. "Booth, please."

He finally lifted his head to look at her. He knew what she was asking. But he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to get into the car and drive home. He didn't want to break this spell they had woven around each other. He was scared she would take it all back as soon as her feet hit the ground. "I want you," he said roughly.

"I know," she breathed. "I want you too."

"Will you still want me when we get home?" he asked. She nodded and he kissed her softly. "What about tomorrow, Bones? Will you be in my arms when the sun comes up?" She nodded again and he loosened his hold on her. She slid down his body and leaned into him as her shoes met the pavement. "Will you still love me in thirty—" he whispered the number across her skin, his lips pressed gently to her cheek, "—or forty—" he kissed the corner of her mouth, "—or fifty years?"

She nodded and parted her lips as he shifted his mouth to hers. "I'll still love you," she promised, because that was the one thing she thought she could promise.

He smiled then, and kissed her forehead. "Then lets go home, Bones."

—BB—

The sun seemed to come up slowly as he lay on his bed with her in his arms. The light hit the foot of his bed first, creeping up the edge of the comforter that was draped over their bodies, then across the mattress until it hit her shoulder and the arm that was draped across his stomach. Next came her face, peaceful—innocent almost—and beautiful in sleep. Then her hair, disheveled and soft in the stream of early morning light.

He ran his hand up her back, trailing his fingers along her spine. The touch was light, but enough to lift her slowly into consciousness. She sighed and shifted closer to him. Let him pull her on top of him. She stretched against his body, still sleepy and disoriented. "Morning," he whispered, brushing the hair out her eyes.

She blinked at him blearily and rested her head on his chest. "Morning," she murmured.

"You're still here," he commented, running his palms along the warm, smooth planes of her back.

"Told you," she mumbled.

He chuckled. "You did."

She was quiet for a long time after that. He continued running his fingers along her skin, thinking she'd fallen asleep again, when she lifted her face and met his eye. "I always keep my promises, Booth," she said.

He nodded. "I know, Bones. I know."

She smiled and he felt her body relax against him again. He rolled them over so that she was pinned beneath him. "You should know," he said, his voice suddenly husky and rough, "that I keep my promises too."

He moved down her body and bowed his head low over her skin. "I promise to love you—" he kissed her cheek and jaw, "—and hold you—" his lips rounded against her shoulder, "—and make you laugh." He brushed his finger against her ribcage, drawing a giggle from her lips. He grinned and continued his descent. "I promise to take care of you." He kissed her stomach. "I promise to make you feel good." He tilted his head up and kissed the underside of her breast. She sighed and arched into him. "I promise to be your friend and your lover and your partner." He ran his hands down her sides and gripped her hips gently. He lifted his head and met her eye. "I promise to make you as happy as you make me."

And with that last pledge, he lowered his head, his breath whispering across her skin and she tilted her head back, her eyes falling shut in sweet, pure, undeniable pleasure.

Yay! So it all worked out. And by "worked out" I mean "Hannah gets screwed and Booth and Bones have a smutty make-out session in an alley". Yep. Totally excellent.

So. Reviews are awesome. I love 'em dearly. Almost as much as I love smutty, alley make-out sessions between B&B.