Chapter Seven: The boats of hope in the Ocean of Despair.

It's been three and half months since she got home, she wonders why she knows this so exactly, why marking the passage of time is a fixation she's acquired. Deep down inside the answer to this question resides but it's painful to acknowledge it. She's been aware of Booth's relationship with Hannah for this amount of time; been forced to face the grim reality of a world where Booth is very definitely moving on and leaving her behind him.

In truth, Booth and Hannah have been dating for six months now, as close as she can estimate from the things he's said. Six months is a longer period of time than any of the relationships she's been involved in – unless she counts her partnership with Booth as a relationship, and she likes to think it is. It's the only way to make his six months with Hannah seem small and insignificant.

She wants it to be insignificant, and yet Booth appears happy, and she wants his happiness more than anything. If he and Hannah were to split up, Booth would be unhappy, that's become clear to her. He so obviously cares for this woman, and Brennan cannot blame him for that. Aside from the fact that Hannah's existence has broken her heart – a term she understands now as she feels splintered into pieces – she cannot find anything to dislike about the woman Booth has chosen. She's smart, humorous, beautiful and most important she obviously loves Booth and wants to give him anything and everything she can.

Brennan had hoped the relationship wouldn't work and would come to a natural end, and yet it appears to work fine and she now sees no ending in sight. Booth is the kind of guy who is looking for commitment, who actually embraces the idea of forever with the same person. He seems to have found a match in Hannah, someone just like him, without all the stress of opposing world views. Hannah is even Catholic.

Why would Booth ever contemplate giving that up for a romance bound to have problems? It makes more sense for them to only be partners.

For the first time in her life, she doesn't care about the logical, rational choice; she wants the insane idea, the incompatible world views, the drama, the arguments, and the lifelong commitment.

She just wants Booth, and she wants it more and more every single day.

Hell, though she's never believed in the concept, is being in love with someone you cannot have.

Her dinner with Hank and Booth has become a cherished memory that she relives all the time. For one night, she allowed herself to behave as she wants too, to laugh and flirt with Booth and play along with Hank's idea that the two of them are secretly together. It felt like such a family thing to her, and Hank, he feels like her grandfather too. She loves him, for making Booth the man he grew up to be, for his love of life, for his confiding in her. Hank doesn't approve of Hannah – at least he doesn't approve of her relationship with Booth, he made that very plain to Brennan when Booth wasn't there to overhear.

'Don't you worry too much about that Temperance . . . Shrimp will figure out that he's got himself all backwards here. I know what you told him, but I know how you really feel . . . you gotta trust him, he'll find his back to you 'cause Shrimp will always follow his heart in the end.'

Hank's words have become a beacon of hope, a lifeboat for her in what feels like an ocean of despair. Hank is old, but he's wise, and no-one knows Booth better than he does. If Hank believes that Booth will follow his heart back to her, then maybe he hasn't yet fallen really in love with Hannah. Maybe he only thinks he has, and when he tries to commit himself more he'll find himself unable to take a step that would be irrevocable.

And he'll end things with Hannah.

And Brennan will be able to tell him how sorry she is for everything she's put him through.

There were moments that evening when she caught Booth looking at her like he used too; in a way she now recognizes. There was heat in his gaze, like a caress on her skin. Times when his eyes seemed almost black and the emotions swimming in the depths looked like love and desire. Instances when she knew that a part of him still wants her, still needs her.

It took every ounce of control she possessed not to launch herself at him when he looked at her that way. The need to be in his arms, to press her lips on his, to feel his strength beneath her, around her . . . it was overwhelming. Now that she's acknowledged her feelings, reconciled herself with what her wants and desires really are, every time she looks at him now she feels these urges more. For one night at least she was determined to allow herself the freedom to feel it, to express even a small part of it. She has no idea what Booth thought about her performance, he probably thought it was simply that, a performance for his Grandfather. If he only knew the truth, that she simply could not deny herself a little bit of an outlet, even for just a few hours.

It was cathartic, and since it made Booth look at her like he was seeing her again, then it was worth it. Maybe he won't find his way back without help?

The thought crosses her mind and she cannot let it go. It rolls around like pebble in her shoe, poking her conscious mind, prodding at her will.

She wants to do the right thing, the honorable thing and let him be happy and leave it be.

And she will, in part, she won't interfere with his relationship, but she can at least look at him like she loves him surely? What harm can come from that? Maybe he'll see it in her eyes the way she knows now she always saw it in his, even if she wasn't able to name the emotion back then.

She saw that night there is still something in his eyes when he looks at her. He still feels some of what he once did.

She is buoyed suddenly by a second lifeboat, and clinging to her twin life-preservers she soldiers on.