The Hearts in the Centre

A/N - Aaaggh, I could re-read,tweek and change for ever, have spent far too much time on this as it is, so here it is, finally the letter. Many, many apologies for the length of time it's taken to get here (and any, or rather the many, mistakes that are surely still here). I do hope it meets with your approval! Please, please let me know what you think: good, bad or ugly.

P.S. Thank you for the reviews and alerts last chapter.

Disclaimer: Yes, obviously, nothing owned by me. No infringement intended.

The story so far: Post Doctor in the Photo Brennan, never one to forget something she's learnt, decides to pick herself up, dust herself off and embrace life, no other regrets. Following a Saturday girl talk with Angela she's off to New York for a week. Booth meanwhile has resolved to fix his ailing partnership and friendship with her but is committed to making things work with Hannah despite the fact his mind is frequently not on the blonde. Angela and Cam found messages from Brennan on Monday morning informing them of her absence. Cam had gone to retrieve the Eames file from Brennan's apartment, found the letter, was in discussion with Angela about it back at the lab when Booth walked in, Angela sent him for the file and he found the letter.

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End of chapter 6:

As if his unconscious had made the decision for him he found his thumb sliding into the envelope. He eased out the numerous sheets and tried not to notice her distinctive 'Bones' fragrance lightly scenting the pages. Letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding he began to read.

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Chapter 7, The Letter:

Dearest Booth,

It feels very strange to write a letter to you that I don't intend for you to read; however, I believe the process of writing will aid my attempt to move on, as I must do, and as you have.

I do very much hope that this exposition of my feelings will help me to put them to one side, because at this moment I feel as though my love for you may never diminish; although logically I know this not to be true. As you promised you have proven to me that love exists but you have also proven, as I knew, that love is ephemeral, it does not last and cannot be relied upon; nothing and no-one can, as I always feared. While I now intend to embrace my life and to live with as few regrets as is possible, I have remade my peace with the knowledge that love will not figure in my future; my foray into this area has been proven a folly.

Firstly I must apologize to you, I've hurt you and I'm so very sorry. It hurts me deeply to know I have caused you pain; please know that this was never ever my intention. More than anything, more than my own happiness, I want you to be happy, to have the life and relationship you deserve.

I will forever regret not recognizing the moment outside the Hoover for the pivotal one that it was, for not overcoming my fears, for not trusting that I could be enough for you. However dwelling on my regret is not the purpose of this letter. As you did, I will move on. The loss of what we once had, and what we could have had, will forever be mourned in my heart. Although you are now fading from my life, you have left a lasting legacy, my heart has been opened. I can feel, more importantly, I want to feel; I refuse to be scared anymore. Is it ironic or tragic that at possibly the most important moment in my life I failed to think logically? In trying to resist inevitable entropy I lost everything I was trying to protect.

While I do not pretend to comprehend the extent of the feelings you once had for me - you wanted to test, to try, to gamble, and yet you said you knew, you wanted a lifetime, and yet moments later you needed to move on - I understand that there was once something beyond the platonic bounds of our professional relationship.

Why has this been the one area in which our knowledge of the other has failed so dramatically when we excel at understanding each other in every and any other matter? We have confided the depths of our minds, or souls as you would have it, to each other, and yet we failed ourselves by never finding the courage to speak of the most important part, the contents of our hearts. I think you must be incredibly surprise to find me writing of my heart; more of you has seeped into me than I could ever have imagined.

Perhaps my explanations will only make sense if I start at the beginning.

My parents' disappearance, Russ' abandonment and the abhorrent experience of foster care conspired to sever the connection between by mind and my heart: the feelings I experienced were too much to bear so I learn to ignore them, but I ignored them for so long, trained myself to only accept fact, logic, truth and evidence, that I lost the ability to comprehend my emotions.

When we first met I felt something too, but I was unable to ascertain what it was, what it meant. Now I can see that is was the realization that we would always have a deep abiding connection, I imagine you would term it love at first sight. I believe the strength of emotion was too strong, too foreign, and it scared me, the notion of connecting with someone so deeply and feeling loss again was too much to bear, and so, as I do, or rather, as I did, I ran.

I tried, and largely succeeded, to forget the feeling you had stirred. However, when we began to work together again my respect and admiration for, and attraction to, your character seemed only to strengthen, as did my appreciation of your physical attributes - yes Booth, I admit it, I find you devastatingly handsome. It amuses me to write this, imagining your reaction to reading this, although I have no intention of ever giving this letter to you.

When our moments of connection brought wistful notions of more to my mind I reminded myself that to you I was simply your partner and friend, that I shouldn't mistake the deep bond of friendship and sexual attraction for any romantic desire on your part, there was no danger of crossing the line you had drawn.

I convinced myself it was the same on my part, simply natural feelings for a friend so important to me as you. I felt that I should feel extremely fortuitous to have you in my life at all. With reflection I believe I buried my feelings for you inside our friendship and partnership. I didn't realize the extend to which you had snuck in through the cracks in my walls, but you had, and you found your way to my heart. I remained unaware, but it is now clear to me that you claimed ownership and took up residence a long time ago.

You asked to gamble, to see if you could love me, but for me the stakes were too high, I knew I'd loose. I felt I couldn't be enough for you to love, I couldn't be who you would need me to be, I couldn't open my heart wide enough. It was clear to me that you would find me wanting, and I couldn't bear to disappoint you in that way.

Illogically I accepted as true that trying and, inevitably, failing would mean loosing what what we had as partners and as friends. Yet, I clung to the notion that refusing to try would keep everything as it was. I couldn't bear to risk loosing what I had of you; I'd lost you before, your death hollowed out my insides. In fear I forgot that everything changes. I failed to realize that if you moved on nothing would or could be the same. This has been proven true, what we had is ebbing away at a speed I could not have anticipated. I understand, I do, as much as it pains me to admit, Sweets was correct, we did have a surrogate relationship, now you have a real one you do not need me. I will not deny that this has been a difficult adjustment - and I see now that my attempt to befriend Hannah is a desperate bid to remain close to you - but I know that it is important for you to put everything you have into the relationship with the woman who will be your future.

Maluku gave me the time and space I required to think clearly. Being parted from you allowed me to clearly evaluate your presence in my life, to evaluate myself without you. I realize that although you had changed me, so much for the better, maybe enough to be good enough for you, that I was still me, I could stand alone, I could live without you, I just did not want to, and I could take the risk, I could take you up on your gamble, because if we failed, I would be devastated, but I would not crumble to nothing.

I understand now that I hurt you very much by not communicating while we were apart. Once I had come to the realization that maybe we could have those 30, 40 or 50 years I wrote many letters to you, though lamentably they remained in my possession, when the opportunity to post one arose I would decided that I didn't want you to read that I loved you in a letter, and I was also uncertain that you would still want to try, I needed to speak with you face to face. Then of course, once we were reunited, I learnt of Hannah, and I resolved never to reveal my feelings to you, to do whatever was necessary to ensure you found the happiness you truly deserve.

I am sorry that I failed to honour this commitment to you on Friday night. I should not have put my desires above your feelings. As you know the Eames case affected me deeply. I found myself reluctant to follow her path, to live a life free of connection to others, a life surely filled with regret. My life turned upside down. I acted impulsively in reveling my sentiments to you, it was imprudent, I did not think, I just knew I couldn't live with myself if I did not make you aware of my feelings. Yet, I am aware that I still told you relatively little, I imagine this is why this letter is proving cathartic, while you will never read these words, expressing the evolution of my emotions has helped me to understand both my actions and inactions, logical and illogical.

If only I had assessed my desire to reveal myself to you in a rational manner I would have saved us from a conversation which is surely to have inflicted further damage on the already fragile bonds of our friendship. I know you so very well, I understand the strength of your feelings for Hannah, I understand that she offers a much stronger chance of providing you with the happy future you desire, I know that you are a loyal man, I know that you would never have forsaken the promise you have made to her for my belated declaration.

Any explanation I can offer for such foolishness is mearly an excuse, I should not have done what I did, it was not the actions of a good friend, not the actions of someone who only wants your utmost happiness.

I must end here, as this must all end. I suppose this letter is an adieu to the you who lives in seemingly my every waking thought and deep within my dreams. My fanciful notions of a future with you, a family with you, must end. These fictitious characters must no longer reside in my imagination.

I now understand the feeling of heartbreak; strangely however, I am glad to feel, event if it means that I am hurting so very deeply at the moment. Once the damage has healed perhaps I will be stronger, though I know I do not ever intend to repeat this experience.

Please do not feel any sorrow for me as I know your generous heart is wont to do; I am excited to embrace the rest of my life, to enjoy my family, my friends, to forge a life outside of the lab. I intend to honour Dr Eames memory by doing what she cannot.

With deepest affection, Bones

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A/N: Okay, so it is probably very OOC for her to write about her heart (well the whole emotion filled letter really) I have taken it that firstly she is effectively writing to herself, secondly, she knows he would know, if it really was to him, that she was using it in a metaphorical sense, although in TV reality she would be very likely to add in a caveat about not really believing the heart could feel blah blah, in my story she's trying to ease up on the 'science' in her life outside of work and somehow the explanation didn't suit the tone of the letter. Hope you can just go with it!