(A/N: Hey there! Well, I'm really pleased with the fact that I got five story alerts and a favorite story addition, all within eight hours or so. Yay! I uploaded extra fast so you guys got a reward :) But I'm also a little sad that nobody took the time to leave a quick review. I know my stories are far from perfect, and even if it's something you didn't like or something you disagree on, tell me! I'm a nice person. And it makes me that much more eager to update...Anyway, enjoy)

There was a time when Temperance Brennan hardly ever did her own dishes. There had been no need. Nearly all her meals had been consumed in the diner or at the bar, or from biodegradable cardboard takeout cartons that made the kitchen smell of tofu for hours afterward.

But that was before she had left for the Maluku Islands, before Special Agent Seeley Booth had gone into a war-torn Afghanistan. And sure, they'd come back, but he'd brought an addition with him – a girlfriend, a reporter named Hannah Burley.

And somehow, those after-case drinks, the fries at the diner, the meals at Wong Foo's, got more and more infrequent. She tried not to miss those times, tried to rationalize that eating at home was more economical anyways, but found it was surprisingly harder than she had expected. But in any case, here she was, Temperance Brennan, clearing up after her dinner, wiping her own dishes until they were pristine, trying not to indulge in nostalgia for days that were long past.

It was a fact she just needed to accept, Brennan told herself sternly. Booth had found another woman, a good, smart, bright woman, and it was considered intrusive and frowned upon to claim more time with her partner. Girlfriend trumped work partners, even a socially inept person like herself knew that. And yet – sometimes, she couldn't help but feel that she had more right over him than Hannah, seven years of knowing him, as opposed to Hannah's seven months. It gave her a strange sense of satisfaction, to still be able to count their relationship in terms of months. As though it made their relationship even slightly more transient.

That was when the phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID flashing the name 'Hannah', Brennan wondered yet again at the common occurrence of someone calling you right when you thought about them. She had seen an interesting study about it the other day, published by the Institute of Noetic Sciences – she had to dig up the article soon.

"Hello Hannah, how are you?" Brennan answered, smiling into the receiver. She liked Hannah a lot, even though, anthropologically speaking, she should dislike such an obvious equal who was competing for men in the same age group as Brennan was, especially given her recent…realizations. But Hannah was a good friend to Brennan, and she couldn't help but like the reporter's friendly, down-to-earth manner.

"Not so good, actually," Hannah replied shakily, and Brennan was immediately concerned. She could tell that Hannah, whose courage and independence Brennan had always appreciated, had been crying.

"Hannah, what's wrong? Are you alright?" Brennan asked, confused. She and Hannah were friends, yes, but she hadn't anticipated herself as the first person Hannah would call in times of trouble.

Are you alright? The words made Hannah close her eyes in despair and sink a little more into the leather of the taxi seat. No, she wasn't alright. Her insides hurt. Her throat was scratchy from suppressed emotion, and she really wanted somebody to understand. Someone who would give her a hug and a glass of hot milk.

"I'm…fine," Hannah lied easily. "It's Seeley."

Those two words were enough to make Brennan's heart race, even as her brain cautioned and reasoned and refrained from jumping to conclusions. "What happened?" Brennan asked, her voice sharper now.

The change in tone didn't go unnoticed by Hannah. She still loves him, Hannah noted absently, and then stifled a tiny jealous part of her deep inside. That was a good thing. Seeley needed all the love he could get at the moment.

"We – we broke up."

Both women were silent for a few moments. Then, Brennan cautiously offered up, "Oh, Hannah. I'm so sorry."

It didn't sound insincere, Hannah noticed. And then she realized it was because Temperance was completely sincere. She was genuinely sorry for Hannah. She hadn't even realized yet that this meant Seeley was 'available' again. And that made another tear of shame trickle down Hannah's cheek.

"I wish I knew what else to say in cases like this," Brennan continued, hesitating between her words. "Would – would you like to come to my apartment?" Hannah truly sounded horrible, and even though Brennan wasn't at all familiar with this department of social conventions, she was determined to be the best friend possible to Hannah. Especially if Booth had broken up with her. That sting of rejection was one that Brennan still felt keenly and could sympathize with, even though it had been nearly a month since that conversation on that rainy night.

"Oh, no," Hannah hastily refused, even though a sizeable part of her wanted to accept. "I – I have to move out. Of Booth's apartment."

There was a short pause as both women digested this fact. This was it. The end of 'Seeley and Hannah'. And Brennan found herself feeling slightly guilty at having counted their relationship down in months for so long. Even though she knew scientifically that it wasn't the cause for the breakup, irrationally, Brennan felt like that petty little indulgence had taken its toll somehow.

"That's not really what I'm calling about," Hannah finally broke the silence. "It's just…I'm worried for Seeley." In a few poignant phrases, the journalist outlined the whole evening out for Temperance, using as many facts as she could, avoiding describing his face, or her feelings, or anything too painful and raw.

She didn't need to describe anything. Brennan could see the scene playing out right before her eyes, a warped, distorted version of the night when Booth had asked her to take a chance, on the steps of the Hoover building. She could see the pain in his face, the blind hopelessness, magnified at the third rejection of his life.

Logically speaking, Brennan knew the heart was a muscle that only swelled under certain medical conditions, but it felt like her own heart was swelling from the sorrow and pain that Booth was probably feeling.

She felt a surge of anger towards Hannah. She had warned the reporter, after all, when Hannah had first moved in with Booth, that Booth wasn't someone who did casual flings. She had told Hannah that Booth would give her everything he had, that Hannah should be sure, should be careful not to hurt him. And yet, Hannah had hurt him anyway.

"Hannah...that was not a good idea. Booth isn't - "

"I know I messed up, Temperance," Hannah cut her off, an edge to her voice. "I know I… screwed things up majorly. For him and me and you. And…I know, out of all the people in the world, I'm the last one who should be asking you for a favor. But I'm doing it anyways, because maybe that will make things a little more right."

Instantly, Brennan felt bad about blaming Hannah. It would be like the frying pan calling the fire hot, she realized. After all, just under a year ago, hadn't Brennan herself done exactly what Hannah had done? At least Hannah had tried having a relationship with Booth - Brennan had skittered away at just the idea of 'giving it a shot.'

Taking a deep breath, and then exhaling through the nose, Brennan finally spoke. "Oh, Hannah," she sighed. "I'm so, so sorry."

Hannah felt tired, numb, dead. But Temperance's sincere tone lit a spark of hope inside her. "So you'll do it, then?" she confirmed.

"Do what?" Brennan asked, now completely confused.

"Find See – find Booth. And stay with him." Hannah gave a shaky laugh. "I know I sound bad, but I bet you a million dollars he's in a worse condition."

That was debatable, Brennan found herself thinking. Hannah sounded pretty bad. And she knew from experience on both sides, that being the rejector took just as harsh a toll as the converse. Rejecting someone you were close to meant not only that same feeling of heartbreak, but also a sizeable amount of guilt at having caused that heartbreak in the other person.

"Hannah – " Brennan began, not sure how to convey that she had no idea what to do.

"No, Temperance, he needs you," Hannah insisted. She exhaled, long and hard, steeling herself to say the hardest words of the night. "He needs you – you in particular. His…partner. His friend. Not me. Not Hodgins or Sweets. And I know this must be hard on you, but can't you – can't you do it for your partner?"

"I – I won't know what to say," Brennan floundered, searching for a good excuse. She didn't want to see Booth like that again, she didn't want to feel that pain again, when she realized it was too late. Booth had moved on, and she had begun to do the same.

Hannah sighed again. God, they were both so stubborn. "He loves you, Temperance. And you love him back. You can keep dancing around it, you can keep ignoring it for as long as you like, doesn't change the facts."

There was a long silence. And then Hannah found herself saying, with the weak chuckle of someone who had absolutely nothing to lose, "You know, if I'd said yes, he'd have woken up someday and seen me for what I really am. And he'd have compared it to you, and he'd have been unhappy. And he'd keep being a gentleman, and he'd do the right thing, but he'd always be unhappy. And I… I would have been unhappy too."

"But – " Hannah added, shifting the phone to her other ear, "You're different, Temperance. You know him better than anyone else in the world. You're partners. Isn't this what partners do for each other?"

Brennan still couldn't say anything. She had no idea what to do. But somehow, without her brain sending any signals whatsoever, her hand moved of its own accord, reaching for her jacket and keys. She was going after her partner. Going to stay with him and comfort him no matter how much it hurt her.

"I'm on my way out."

(A/N: Go Bones! And goodbye, Hannah! Unless I change my mind, that should be the last we hear of her. So...what did you think? Tell me everything! Next part's going to be the actual conversation in the Founding Fathers - so looking forward to writing that one!)