He Shouldn't Have Done That

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Brennan ends her partnership with Booth after she considers his confession to Hannah about her the ultimate betrayal. AU.


Chapter 8 – Eight Months After


After the incident at the Hoover with Booth, I refused to go back to that building for the time being. I couldn't… every time I started to think of the conversation that Booth and I had had… every single time, I started to shake. First with anger, then with rage, then with panic, then with fear, then with regret, and then, the whole process would just start all over again.

Later that evening, Wendall came over and found me still like that. I was just sitting on my couch when he knocked. I vaguely called to him to come in as I had left the door unlocked from when I had earlier stumbled inside. And, there he found me - just sitting, just starring, just shaking. I wasn't crying. I wasn't making a noise. Carefully, gently, he asked me what was wrong. At first, I wasn't sure what to say. What *was* there to say, exactly? What *was* wrong except for the fact that I had seen Booth, and he had told me that he wished I was happy? I shook my head, and struggled to verbalize the mash of emotions wafting over me.

For a time, when he saw I was struggling to provide me with an answer, but couldn't, Wendall came, sat down, and just held my hand. We said nothing for a long time. At last, after who knows how much time had passed - I know it must have been a while since it had still been partially light outside when he arrived, and when I finally started to come back to my senses, it was dark. Then, finally, I was ready, and I told him. I used simple words, short sentences, and told him what must have been, for him, a most disappointing let down after all the expectation that my melodramatic response had caused. I told him, and he held me, and reassured me, and I don't know why, but I was surprised at myself when things started to feel just a little less intense, a little less chaotic after I had spoken. I realized that there was no logical reason to feel the fear, the panic, or the regret that had characterized what I would later recognize as having been a mild, but long-lived panic attack.

After I began to feel as I had before the day's events transpired, Wendall asked me what I wanted for dinner, I shrugged, and he left me only for a moment to disappear to see what might be palatable to have delivered since we both needed to eat *something*... and obviously, I was in no condition to go out to dinner as we had originally planned after the day I had had. That first day was hard, very hard, but the first days always are. I continued to put one foot in front of the other. I didn't see Booth alone again, and gradually, a few days turned into a couple of weeks… and soon, a month had passed, and it was almost as if the entire conversation had just been another one of the distant memories I had of the conversations I used to have with the Booth of my dreams.

We spent the majority of those weeks, instead of doing things as time passed so quickly... but just talked. We talked of many things, and I found I very much enjoyed not having to hold every thought, every response in my own head. I could talk to Wendall about almost anything for any reason... except that I wasn't quite ready to discuss with Wendall what I had told Booth just before I had left the conference room in the Hoover that day. I know that Wendell knew my opinion on our continued interaction. It was positive, fun, and I did enjoy spending time with him. I believed, given the right amount of time, it might lead to something more, but that's what I needed - time. Without more time, I just couldn't give him more than that... no matter how much I would have liked to... or hoped I would eventually be able to do so. However, Wendall seemed content with that which I was able to give him and didn't ask me for more than I was able to give him before I was able to give it.

At one point, he invited me home to his parent's home for a Sunday evening meal. It was... unusual. Obviously, when Wendall's mother met me, she was of two minds. On one hand, she knew I had been his dissertation adviser, internship supervisor, and friend for several years. On the other hand, I was also now the woman who her son was dating seriously enough that he had brought her home for Sunday dinner. And, I was older than him - a *lot* older than him... but, for her son, since he seemed happy, and I seemed to be the one I wanted at the moment, she remained civil and cordial. I found myself warming to her no-nonsense goodness - she's the one whom Wendall took after more than his father in that aspect - and by the end of the evening, I could honestly say I had had an enjoyable experience. On the way back that evening, we chatted about his plans for the upcoming academic semester. It was now late July, and he would begin teaching at George Washington in about a month's time.

"So, tell me again - what courses did the department chair say had enough enrollment so that your sections won't be cancelled?" I asked.

Wendall's eyes remained on the road as he said, "Two sections of Introduction to Anthropology and one section of the Foundations in Forensic Anthropology."

"Hmmm, but those are all undergraduate classes, as I recall?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Dr. Davis mentioned something about maybe being able to schedule me for a 4000-level senior seminar in Osteology, but he said it would be at least a couple of semesters before they would be able to work me into the rotation for graduate seminars. And, I'm *okay* with that. I'm scared enough as is with the idea that I'm going to have 150 freshman twice a day staring at me like people normally stare at you when you walk into a classroom, the only difference is I feel like I have absolutely no idea why they would be doing that."

I laughed at this. His insecurity and anxiety about teaching for the first time as a tenured-track faculty member really was completely undeserved... and somewhat adorable. "Don't worry, Wendall. You'll be fine. There is an extremely high probability that you already know more about anthropology and its various sub disciplines by at least a power of ten when compared to the students who will be enrolling in your course for the first time."

He chuckled in response. "I hear you saying the words, but it still doesn't make me feel any better. Logically, I know you're right... but my gut tells me... all it takes is one. We both know, just *one* smart pain-in-the-ass student can throw me off, make me look like an idiot in front of the entire class, and for the rest of the semester no one will respect 'the new baby doc in Foundations'," he parroted.

Smiling, I said, "Don't worry. I'll help you. It's not very true that you *need* any help, but anything I can do that will make you feel better, more confident, as the first class approaches, just let me know."

At this, his hand came over and reached for mine as he gave it a squeeze. "You really are incredible, you know that?"

I wasn't sure what I had done to make him keep thinking this, so I just smiled, nodded slightly, and squeezed his warm hand back in return.


A few days after the dinner at Wendall's parents' home was Angela's birthday. She had given birth to little Michael a few weeks before, during the drama that ensued with the mystery of the remains of Booth's little sister. However, not long after little Michael had been born, Angela already seemed to be bouncing back from her labor and delivery with an energy and level of enthusiasm that were somewhat frightening in their intensity. Since the baby was only a few weeks old, and Angela was still recovering from the effects of the birth on her body, Hodgins had decided to forgo his normal plan to throw a huge beach party that he had talked about putting together before Micheal's birth. Promising that the beach party was not cancelled, just postponed until Labor Day weekend, he had reconciled his desire to commemorate his wife's birth in a spectacular way with her desire for a more low-key, low-stress get together. On the actual day of Angela's birth, a small and much more intimate dinner party was being thrown at the Hodgins' estate. The big party would come later.

I was running late because I had spent too much time trying to wrap Angela's present perfectly, and I felt frustrated at myself as I rushed to finish getting ready for both being behind schedule and the reason that had prompted my tardiness. Wendall watched me buzzing back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom with an amused expression on his face, as he had finished getting ready a half hour before. But, Wendall was quiet and wisely said nothing, despite the smile on his face. I finally let out a grunt of frustration as I still struggled to tame my hair into some semblance of non-frizz horribleness.

Coming up behind me, Wendall placed two hands on my shoulders gave me a light kiss on the cheek as he said, "Don't worry about it so much… you look spectacular."

"You'd think I'd look good with a brown paper bag over my head," I retorted.

He laughed, "Well, yeah… but only if you're wearing only the brown paper bag." Wendall waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I reluctantly laughed.

"We're going to be *so* late," I frowned again, as I glanced at my watch.

"Don't worry about it, Tempe. We'll call Ange on the way there so she knows what's going on," he said. He then glanced out the window as he said, "I am kinda worried about the weather, though. It looks like it's about to start pouring. Maybe we should just take my car? I can run and go pull it up so you won't get wet."

Looking at the clock and then the window, I reluctantly nodded. "All right. Just be careful, okay? And, don't forget to grab that bottle of vodka from the kitchen counter. I told Angela that I'd bring it for her since she said Hodgins was almost out, and they want to make that new martini that she's been talking about all week."

With a smart salute, Wendall turned on his heels and left. By the time he pulled the car around front, and I had climbed in, the rain started to drizzle. The drizzle very quickly turned into a spectacular thunder and lightning storm that is quite normal during the summer weather one will encounter if in the DC area during the month of July. However, since we were running late, and although I had telephoned Angela to let her know of our impending tardiness so she wouldn't worry and could adjust plans accordingly, I was still frustrated and obsessing over that irksome detail.

As we drove in the direction of Hodgins' estate, the sound of the rain falling provided the only sounds for the first few minutes as Wendall concentrated on driving, and I brooded. At some point, Wendall grew tired of the silence and flicked on the radio. He flipped through the channels until one station caught his attention. I recognized the song immediately. Wendall, for his part, turned the radio up a couple of levels as his smile increased, and he began to slightly bob his head to the beat of Eddie Money's "Take Me Home Tonight."

After a few seconds, Wendall suplemented his head bobbiing with an off-key rendition of the song. I looked over and rolled my eyes at him when he put on a falsetto voice and crooned one of the refrains, "Be my little baby, be my little baby."

He shook his head with his smiling turning into a griin. "Come on, Tempe. It's Eddie Money."

"You know, considering your age, you're quite well versed in the musical classics from the 1980s," I couldn't help but tease him a bit.

When we had first started dating, he knew that I had a weak spot for 80s music. Although Wendall tended to prefer more modern alternative rock in the guise of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and U2, he started to listen to more of the 80s music because of me, because he knew I liked it.

"Hey, 80s music is cool," he said with a wink.

I looked back at the window as I let my thoughts drift as he continued to sing. Then, at the edge of my mind, I suddenly jerked up. "Wendall?"

"Yes, Tempe?"

"Did you remember to grab the bottle of vodka?"

His head stopped bobbing at that question and Wendall's lips pressed into a thin line. "Ummm... hmmm... yeah. I, ah... I meant to grab it on the way out... but, it was starting to rain, and I didn't want to get too wet-"

"Oh, Wendall..." I said.

He smiled at me lightly and said, "Don't worry, Tempe. We can stop at that liquor store on the corner before the turn off to the house. I'm sure they have to have vodka-"

I frowned, but nodded with a sigh. "Okay."

The music continued to play, and his head moved again in rhythm. It gradually transitioned from a slight nodding to a full bop of his head as he resumed singing. "Take me home tonight, I don't want to let you go till you see the light, listen honey, just like Ronnie said—"

I gave him a look at that.

"Oh, come on, Tempe... like I said, it's Eddie Money!" He gave me an encouraging look.

Smiling, I started to feel his enthusiasm spread like some type of infectious laugh. I couldn't help myself as I chimed in at the next lyric, "Be my little baby, baby my darling—"

Wendall grinned back at me in approval as he continued singing.

"Take me home tonight, take me home tonight, take me home tonight—" we both sang.

I was so lost in the moment that, starting to feel a little relaxed and happy and in a mood to enjoy a party, that I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. The rain was coming down harder, making it difficult to see very much visibility-wise despite the fact that the car's wippers continued to operate at full speed. Then, there was a crack of lightening, and a boom of thunder as the sounds of Eddie Money's song provided the soundtrack as things slowed down to a crawl… and I felt the car move with a sickening force as metal on metal grated my ears. There was the shattering of glass and the screech of tires… and the last thing I remembered was Wendall shouting my name. And, then, again – there was nothing. Just pain and black and overwhelming darkness.


Angela sat, red-eyed and puffy faced, on the hard chairs that were so familiar to her from various hours spent in hospitals over the course of her life. Some of the occasions had been happy, some of them had been filled with intense pain, but this time – on *this* particular instance, it was sadness that she felt. She was overwhelmed with sadness as she waited for her best friend to wake up.

Physically, physically Brennan had been lucky. Her seat belt and the car's airbags had deployed and had kept her from being ejected out of the car through the shattered windshiefd. She had several cracked ribs, a hairline fracture in her ankle, a nasty gash on her forehead that required stitches - and would most likely leave a scar - and numerous cuts, scrapes, and bruises. However, once Brennan woke up from the drugs the doctors had given her as they ran tests and tried to stabilize her, a new set of injuries would have to confronted.

Eventually, Brennan did awake, groggy and stiff and in pain. Her eyes struggled to focus, and when they did, they fell upon Angela. It took a few minutes, but eventually Angela's words started to penetrate the fog that had settled over Brennan's mind since the darkness had overwhelmed her in the first few moments after the accident.

"There was an accident, sweetie. We're… we're still not quite sure of all the details. But, the highway patrol said that a car from the oncoming lane hydroplaned into your lane… and the, uh, the car hit you guys pretty hard," Angela said.

"I ache all over," Brennan said. "How bad do I look?"

Angela stood and walked to the bed. She brushed a lock of hair out of Brennan's face. "Not bad at all, Bren. You're beautiful, spectacular even."

"Liar," Brennan said.

And, then, something in Angela's wording triggered something in her mind. 'Spectacular.'

"Hmmmm," Brennan said as she closed her eyes, leaned back into the meager pillows of the inclined hospital bed, and took a breath. "I… I hope I at least look better than Wendall does, otherwise he'll never let me hear the end of it."

At her words, Brennan smiled softly to herself and then looked at Angela. Her friend had paled again, and Brennan immediately knew something was wrong, even though her mind was seriously clouded with pain and drugs to numb the pain caused by her injuries.

"Ange?" she asked quietly... innocently even... in a voice no louder than a child's.

Angela bit her lip. Fresh tears were beginning to pool in her eyes.

Struggling to sit up a bit more, Brennan started to panic as she said, "Ange, what is it?"

"Bren-" Angela tried to start. Her voice caught on a lump that had formed in her throat. Angela struggled for breath as Brennan watched on, her panic growing.

"Angela...? What's wrong? What happened?"

"Ummmm, Bren," Angela began with a swallow.

"What?" Brennan pleaded, panic and fear beginning to overwhelm her. "Please, Angela... tell me? What is it? Where's Wendall? What happened to us? To him?"

Angela looked down for a minute, wringing her hands before she stood and took a step closer to the bed.

"Oh, no," Brennan gasped when she saw what Angela was doing as she reached for her friends hand. "No. No. No. No. No. Angela... what is it?" What aren't you telling me?"


Hodgins, eyes red-rimmed and throat choked with emotion, stood outside the door to Brennan's hospital room. Solemn, Max Keenan stood beside him… and beside Max, stood two grim-faced men - Sully and Booth. When Sully had gotten Angela's call about his partner's accident, he had been out for a beer with Booth, and, after hanging up the phone, dazed and confused, Sully eventually spoke in response to Booth's look of concern. Wendall had suffered from extensive internal bleeding before the paramedics had even gotten to the site. They were trying to resuscitate him, but things hadn't looked good from the moment they lifted him out of the car and found him to be unresponsive. Angela had little information for Sully on Brennan, aside from the fact that she was still alive and the doctors were working on her. Quietly, after a few moments of stunned silence, as the meaning of the words of Angela's message finally set in, both eventually looked up at each other. Neither one spoke, but merely nodded, and went to the hospital to join the others who were already keeping vigil for the injured pair.

At last, hours later, after Brennan had finally woken up, and Wendall's fate, too, had been determined, the two quiet men joined two other quiet men to form a quartet of silent watchfulness. Not a single one of them spoke, with everything that could, or needed to, be said already having uttered hours before... with one lone exception. Only one thing remained to be spoken, to be told... and, now, now all they could do was watch as the one thing that was left to be said was being said by Angela as she spoke to Brennan while they looked on through the window.

Each man watched with intense effort and concentration as they looked through the door's observation window as Angela continued talking. Each man was focused intently on Brennan's face as Angela continued to speak, despite the fact that each man couldn't hear a word that was being spoken. However, all four men *did* eventually hear a single, choked ear-piercing scream rattle the glass of the door, much like a banshee's wail or the cry of a wounded animal. And, each man saw Brennan's chest begin to heave with sobs as tears started to run down her face. They watched as she tried to push Angela away, and they saw as Angela refused to be pushed away. Eventually, Brennan stopped fighting Angela, and her friend climbed into the bed next to her, just holding her as they both cried and didn't stop crying for a long, long time.


Angela, she… she wouldn't leave me that night, after she told me. But, it didn't matter. None of it mattered. If she didn't tonight, she would at some point. After all, that's what always happens. I know that now. At some point, she'll leave me. They all leave me.

My parents, Russ, every lover I've ever had, Booth, my baby… and now Wendall.

He left me. Oh, how could he? He promised. He said he wouldn't. But, he left. He left me.

It's all gone… and, oh, God… I'm all alone again. Again. I'm all alone. All alone.

Alone.


-TBC-