So I know there have been many versions of this story, but hopefully I can offer something different. This will not be a story where Booth takes Brennan somewhere secret or finds a way to send her a code message of the truth.
This is going to be a sad story, just a heads up, but I will sprinkle in sweet flashbacks to balance it out.
With everything we know (or mostly don't know) this is my attempt to connect the dots between the end of eight and the beginning of nine.
Hope you like. Please read and review!
He sat back in his chair after he watched her leave the room.
Maybe it hadn't looked as bad as he thought? Maybe in his own devastation over the situation he was, what would Sweets call it- projecting? After all, she said she was fine with it; practically thanked him for calling it off. So maybe she was actually fine with it because it was unlike her to hold back what was on her mind. She was without question the most blunt person he'd ever met.
Her eyes, though...
He couldn't get them out of his mind. No matter how cool and collected her tone could be, her eyes always betrayed her. They betrayed her tonight. His head was suddenly feeling too heavy for his neck and for his shoulders; he buried it in his hands. Head hurt. Heart hurt. It all just hurt. This was not how they were supposed to be spending the night. There was supposed to be takeout and beer and a bubble bath were he'd slip his grandmother's ring on her hand when she wasn't paying attention. It was a night he'd thought about constantly since the first week of them being together. Instead she'd retreated to their room and he was just sitting alone. Maybe he couldn't fix everything, but he could at least make it better.
However, not a second after he stood up, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. One new message from blocked number.
Good work, Agent Booth. Mission accomplished.
His fingers struck the screen as he tried unsuccessfully to call back the number.
Sorry, Agent Booth. We'll speak again soon, don't worry. And I'm sure Dr. Brennan will understand... well, we can hope.
He turned around and ran for the window; yanking the curtains open. No one.
Not there. Try again.
This time the laptop that was laying open on the kitchen counter. He slammed it shut and pulled the cord from the outlet.
Wrong once again.
Two later nearly everything electronic in the living room and kitchen had been examined. The TV. The microwave. The coffee pot. Lamps. Still, he couldn't find it.
Get some sleep, Agent Booth. You've had a rough day.
He glanced at his watch. A quarter past midnight and as much as he hated to admit it, he was exhausted. He crawled up the stairs, hating that he was admitting defeat, but resigning himself to the new reality. And although he vowed silently to himself that this would end and that he would win, he had to come to terms with the new guest in his living room.
It wasn't until he opened the door to his bedroom and saw the image of the woman he loved, that the gravity of their situation began to set in. She was curled up and laying right against the edge of the bed; something he'd never seen before regardless of their fights. Normally, she hogged the bed and slept in the middle or as close to the middle as possible; usually with and arm or a leg across his body. When she was mad she would turn away and face the wall without giving up an inch of territory. Even if he was mad at her, she was still close enough, that inevitably at some point in the night, he could reach over (or she could) and wrap his arm around her waist. Tonight, though, was different.
He went to the bathroom and began his nightly routine of washing his face and brushing his teeth, and that's when he spotted the magazine in trash.
Damn.
Quietly, he shut the door of the bathroom and turned the sink back on as he began to rummage through it. Inside he found bookmarked corners, post-it notes and small annotations. Clearly, she was not a fan of white wedding dresses, but a couple cream colored ones had been book marked. Also, pink seemed to be out of the question for wedding colors, but green or peach- not together, though, was agreeable.
He flipped through a little more until he came across a page with writing different from hers and something more like a certain artist's.
"This one! You'd look just like Kate Middleton!"
A small laugh escaped his lips and he imagined Brennan's response. Something about it being much to virginal or formal.
Reluctantly, he place the magazine back into the trash. In his hands was proof that the woman who had asked to marry him, meant every word. Part of him wanted to keep it, but if Brennan saw it, she might become suspicious. It was to risky. He stuffed it back into the trash can and opened the door to their bedroom.
She hadn't moved.
As he took off his jeans he watched her intensely. Watching to see if she was asleep and trying to will her to turn around and look at him. However, has he crawled under covers, she was still motionless. Inch by inch he scooted closer to her, knowing that he would have to make the first move and hoping it would be received well. His arm came around and pulled her close to his chest. Immediately her heard and felt a sharp intake of breath. Was she crying? He couldn't take it if she was up her all alone and crying herself to sleep. Maybe he had just startled her?
His lips came down and kissed her temple hard, "I love you so much, Bones." He nearly fought his own tears getting the words out.
She didn't return his words, but simply reached her hand up and squeezed his. All too afraid that the last two hours of crying would be heard in her voice.
So this is the tone for the story. I'm really interested in the idea of a paranoid and obsessed Booth trying to grab at sand that keeps slipping through his fingers. I could see him putting all his focus on catching Pelant while putting arising problems with Brennan on the back burner in the hopes that everything will be magically fixed when Pelant is taken out.
For Brennan, I think she'd know something was up... but it will be Booth handling of the situation that will be the most harmful. His lying, his frustration, not coming home until late... that will have the biggest impact.
So let me know if you'd like to see more! Or if there's certain theories you'd like to share- i love ideas! In the meantime, my other story Truth in the Season is closing in on the end. There was an update last week, so check it out if you haven't already!