AN: I'm a jerk! I took the advice of some reviewers and decided to write the next chapter rather than work on my backlog of review replies. So if you haven't gotten a thank you yet, I'm very sorry. And very strapped for time this week. So I might continue being a jerk until I finish out the story. My bad. : (
Booth found himself gazing down at the quartz-speckled formica of his kitchen table. Hannah still wasn't answering her phone and he knew this wasn't the kind of conversation he could bring to her office. So he contacted dispatch and took a personal day, finding the orderly sense of crisis management the military had distilled in him. First things first.
And first, he needed to understand just what the hell was going on.
The two pieces of evidence lay spread out before him on the table, both paper, both covered with words written by the woman he believed he loved. Evidence. The small florist's card came first; he reread Hannah's message to Bones, attempting to puzzle together her intentions. This at least seemed to indicate that Hannah had been unaware of how much trouble her article would cause for Bones. The breezy offer of lunch spoke of her innocence. The idea that the accusations in the newspaper might have an upside, namely helping Bones sell a few more books, made it seem like Hannah had unknowingly made a mistake.
Okay, so that was good at least.
He set the card aside and swallowed a lump of foreboding as he reached for the paper. The big-type heading jumped out at him again, and he had to shake off the feeling that this could still all be a strange and unfortunate dream.
So he forced himself to read, as the vintage clock that hung over his fridge ticked out the seconds.
After only four rotations of that ticking second-hand, Booth sat back in his chair and refolded the paper, hoping more than ever that the whole thing was a dream. Because if it was real, he was now face-to-face with the realization that the squints hadn't been overacting; that Bones was justified in feeling unfairly attacked and publicly vulnerable; that Hannah was either moronically oblivious or cruelly manipulative.
And most horrifyingly: that yes, he had been the anonymous source.
His mind drifted back in time to the evening, a few weeks prior, sitting at the very same table, when he had stupidly, tragically, betrayed his partner without a second thought...
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"You and Temperance have an interesting dynamic, don't you?"
"What? Um, I don't know if it's that interesting. We sort of keep each other on our toes, think differently, you know? Pretty standard partnership."
"Well you seem like friends at least. I mean, you're friendly outside of work, right?"
"Yeah, of course... we're friends. We've been through a lot over the years. Why so interested all of a sudden?"
"I just want to understand her better. I've never met someone so... I'm not sure how to describe her. And it's sometimes hard for me to comprehend the two of you as friends."
"Why's that?"
"You're just so different. You're like polar opposites. Usually that sort of... chemistry... doesn't end up in friendship, that's all."
"We're just work partners, Hannah. Friends. You have nothing to worry about."
"I guess time will tell..."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Just that I'm new here, in your town, in your life. I'm meeting the whole cast of characters and trying to figure out how they fit in, that's all."
"She likes you. If you give her a chance, you might like her too."
"It's just that... what I don't understand is why you seem to act like the man in her life. I mean, doesn't she ever date? I know you say you're just friends, but I'd feel better if she was out there... you know, trying to meet other people..."
"Bones doesn't have the best track record with dating... it's not her fault. Well, sometimes it's her fault... but really she just seems to attract losers. And even if she were to find Mr. Right some day..."
"What? What's the problem?"
"Nothing... just... she has some issues with things that have happened in her past. Things that make her understandably not want to trust people."
"Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push—maybe I shouldn't have asked."
"Hannah, stop. It's okay—how could you have known?"
"It's just that it makes a lot of sense. Knowing how protective you are. In a way it's comforting, because I understand it now. Why the two of you are so close."
"She was in foster care after her parents disappeared. It wasn't easy. She had one foster father who... I shouldn't even be talking about this but... I just want you to understand that it's not easy for her to open up and trust people. And she trusts me now; I'm her friend. It's not something I can just walk out on because we're dating, okay?"
"Poor Dr. Brennan... was it, I mean... was it very very bad? This foster father?"
"Let's just say she still has scars. Physical and emotional. And I need you to understand her place in my life even though... I realize this is asking a lot of the woman I'm romantically involved with. I need you to know that I'm not going to be the next person to abandon her."
"I'd never ask you to..."
"I just want that to be clear. There's not much I wouldn't do for you, for our relationship. But Parker and Bones are permanent parts of my life. I need you to be okay with that."
"Baby, shhhh. Of course I'm okay with that."
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"Oh God, Bones,"he whispered, his head falling into his shaking hands as he staggered under the realization that he had betrayed her after all. He had made a mistake, had trusted the wrong person. And now Bones was paying for that mistake.
He hadn't aimed to share her secrets. He'd just wanted to be open, to be a good boyfriend. Those were the kinds of things you should be able to trust the person sharing your life with. He'd wanted to make Hannah understand firmly, and from the start, that Bones was a non-negotiable part of his life. Part of the package of living with him. Part of his world. He'd wanted to protect his relationship with Bones. It was horribly well-intentioned, really.
But he still shouldn't have shared so much of her past with a woman she barely knew. Bones' secrets weren't his to divulge, regardless of his intentions. He had just flat-out messed up.
It all hit him at once, how much blame was yoked around his shoulders, the weight and finality of it. He looked back in time, at the first case that had taken him to Bones, to a lecture hall full of rapt squintlets and the gorgeous presenter who defied all his expectations. The first moment they made eye contact, he'd felt a vibration echo deep inside his body, a tone sustained. And he'd been as nervous as a tuning fork, but doing his best to hide it.
He wondered now if that moment was a bad omen for Bones. If his entrance into her life was a continuing bad luck charm: getting her hurt in the field, getting her shot-stabbed-beaten-buried, causing her grief and worry, ruining her career. Maybe all the misfortune in the past few years of her life could have been avoided by rewinding, like a worn VHS tape, until the picture returned to that lecture hall. To click Stop before his hand reached to open that door. Before he asked if she believed in fate.
He never would have thought, before this day, that he was fated to bring suffering to her life. But it seemed so obvious now that if they had never met, she would most likely never have been hurt all those times, and would most likely be enjoying the successes of a brilliant ongoing career.
There was no pain like causing the sadness of the one you loved. Which made him wonder again how Hannah could have done something so thoughtless if she even loved him at all.
As if drawn by his thoughts, a key slid in the lock and she entered, her Botticelli curls bouncing cherubically around her face.
"Hey! I didn't know you'd be home," she said breathlessly. "What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?" he countered quietly.
"I just forgot a few folders this morning... hey! Did you get me flowers?" she smiled, her eyes lighting on the bouquet of yellow roses. "This is such a coincidence because this is the same arrangement I picked out for..." she glanced at his unsmiling features and back to the flowers, and then to the card on the table. "Why do you have the flowers I sent to Temperance?"
He stood slowly, studying her incredulously. "I read your article."
She smiled. Smiled. "Did you like it? I'm pretty excited, I mean, page One, above-the-fold! It's a big win for me."
"Did I like it?" he repeated numbly.
"I'm not saying it's Pulitzer-quality or anything, but it's definitely provocative. I think the whole spy thing adds a nice dimension of mystery to her image, don't you?"
He curled his fingers into fists, marshaling every fiber of patience in his being.
"What's wrong?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"How could you?" he managed.
The shock on her face was almost credible. Anyone who didn't know her would have been completely fooled, but he saw the recognition behind her eyes, and he knew that for all her innocent-seeming bluster, she had at least expected this reaction.
"I'm a reporter, Seeley. This is what I do. I have a right—no, an obligation—to question public figures. And she's a public figure," she replied formally. It sounded rehearsed.
"You sold me out," he growled.
"I did nothing to you, Seeley. This story was about your partner. This is why I didn't tell you- I knew you'd take it too personally."
"It IS personal, Hannah!" he yelled, unable to control the volume of his voice any longer. "What Bones and I do IS personal—it's not just a job. It's our life. It's my cosmic balance sheet. It's my soul on the line and she helps me! Every day!"
"I can't believe that you can't even be happy for me that I've managed to get a respectable byline again. I don't know if you thought about this," she hissed, "but my career took a big hit when I left Afghanistan. I did that for you!"
"I never asked you to!" he roared.
"Well I haven't heard much complaining about it!" she retorted angrily. "You can't even be a little proud of me? Even a fraction as much as you're proud of your precious Bones every day?"
"You expect me to be proud of you! You printed slander and accusations and half-truths about my partner! You took the information I gave you in confidence and used it to hurt her!"
"Oh please—most of that story was public record," she sneered. "Anybody who took the time to do their homework could have found the same things. And I protected you- I listed you as an anonymous source, even though that weakened the credibility of my piece!"
"How many murderers do you think are going to walk because you got Bones taken off FBI cases, huh, Hannah?"
"I never came out and actually accused her of anything!" she shouted.
"Yeah, because you didn't have the guts to do it!"
"Are you kidding me, Seeley?"
He grabbed the roses and flung them furiously at the kitchen wall where they shattered into a storm of ceramic shards and broken yellow petals. Hannah gasped and clapped her hands over her stunned face.
"YOU HAD NO RIGHT!" he bellowed. "This could cost her her career! I've lost my partner! Does that make you happy, Hannah? Maybe you like that, huh? Less to be jealous of?"
Her eyes watered with fear and surprise. "I wasn't jealous," she ground her teeth.
"Oh you weren't? Jealous of the fact that Bones holds a place in my life that you never could?"
She scoffed bitterly. "And what place exactly is that, Seeley?"
"Someone I can TRUST!"
The tears she'd held back sprung to life, and she swabbed her hand clumsily across her face, leaving a smudge of mascara on her cheek. "I—okay, so maybe I should have talked to you first."
"What do you think I would have said, Hannah?" he chuckled sarcastically, throwing his arms up in a gesture of helplessness. "Go ahead and stab my partner in the back? This is insane," he sighed. He flopped heavily down into a chair, feeling weariness settle in his muscles almost painfully.
He looked up at his girlfriend, and noticed once again how beautiful she was. Her golden hair, athletic curves, perfect pouty lips. But now he felt like he could truly see her for the first time. And she was ugly.
"When you betrayed her, you betrayed me. It's that simple," he whispered.
"I've done nothing wrong," she vowed. "I'm sorry that you can't see that."
"I want you out of my home. As soon as possible."
He sat at the table as she packed her scant belongings, not even trusting her enough to be alone in his apartment. The muffled, passive-aggressive slamming of dresser drawers fell gladly on his ears. Maybe he would have regrets later, about how this relationship had ended. Maybe he would miss Hannah and wish things had gone differently. But then again, maybe he hadn't really loved her in the first place, because this part felt too easy. He was thankful, even, to see this side of her before their lives became more tangled. Before Parker came to rely on her presence in his life. Before he did something monumentally stupid like propose marriage based more on the hopes of a future than a celebration of the present.
It felt good. Like excising-a-brain-tumor good. He couldn't change the mistakes he'd made because of this relationship, but he could at least wake up tomorrow morning in a better place. And that was progress. Progress that he needed to revel in right now, because God knew he needed something to hold onto.
There was a kernel of truth, though, in one thing she'd said. In a way, she really had done nothing wrong. Because truly, he realized, the blame lay solely on him.
He dug out his cell and scanned through his contact list, unable to hide a bitter grin as he heard luggage zippers being yanked angrily shut.
Hannah appeared in his peripheral vision, struggling under the weight of a menagerie of duffel bags.
"I guess this is goodbye," she ventured.
"Yeah, bye. Whatever," he replied, glancing up before returning to his phone. She hesitated another moment before shuffling towards the door.
"Take care," she tried again.
He waved his hand casually in response, not bothering to turn around. It felt great.
And with that, she was gone. And he could move on to the next matter of business.
First things first.
He hit Send and lifted the phone to his ear. "Rick? Hey, this is Seeley Booth. How you doing, man? Yeah, alright. Listen, I won't hold you up—I need to call in that favor after all."