Quick recap:
After the "Doctor in the Photo" conversation, Booth comes home drunk. He texts Brennan, but never sends the very last message he typed, which is a declaration of his love for her. Hannah reads it, of course. She decides that she loves Booth too much to torture him any longer. She sends the text to Brennan and leaves for good.
... ... ... ... ...
"Bones. I'm still in love with you."
Brennan dropped her phone on the bed as if it had burned her hand. She backed away from it, her heart racing. How can he be so cruel? she thought, as her breaths morphed into silent shudders. Tears never escaped their ducts; she had already cried her limit that night.
Suddenly resolute, she got out of bed and dressed quickly.
... ... ... ... ...
She pounded her fist against his door, not caring that it was barely dawn, not caring whether she woke the neighbors or Hannah, not caring if Booth would be pissed off.
"Booth! Open the door!"
When she heard nothing, she unlocked the door with her spare key and was about to brazenly barge inside, when she heard movement on the other side. Booth's sleepy face appeared in the doorway, puffy brown eyes taken aback by her presence.
"Bones?" His voice was gruff. She could smell the liquor on his breath. "What are you doing here?"
All of the rage of the previous half hour left her like the air hisses out of a balloon.
"I- Booth, I..." she faltered. Those sad puppy dog eyes always had this effect on her. How could she be mad at him when he looked so defeated? "You look terrible. Are you okay?" she asked tenderly.
He sighed. "I don't know yet," he shrugged tiredly, his shoulders heavy with a tremendous weight. "Are you okay?" His concern was evident, as if his own happiness was hinged upon her well-being.
She ignored the question, still focused on him. "You've been drinking." She stated it simply, as a fact. There was no judgement in her voice. He nodded tersely, knowing that Brennan understood his internal torment. He hated himself when he drank alone, especially when his intent was to forget his life. Whenever he lost control like that, he couldn't help but start to see his father's fingers wrapped around his glass.
Just then realizing that they were still standing in his doorway, he motioned sleepily. "Oh, I'm sorry, Bones, come in, come in."
"No, I don't want to wake Hannah." She was surprised at her own words. Only moments ago, the exact opposite had been true.
"She'll be fine. This is important to me. You're important to me."
He stood to the side and ushered her in. He almost put his hand on her back as she passed, but caught himself right before he touched her. Brennan noticed, and winced painfully at his hesitation.
They made their way to the couch where he had been laying. Booth flopped down and rubbed a hand over his face. She sat nervously beside him, perched uncomfortably on the edge of the seat. He leaned towards her. Their knees were almost touching.
"Are you really okay, Bones?"
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the hurt that this conversation would bring. Booth would tell her again that he was with Hannah. She was sure of it. But Brennan needed him to understand how angry and confused his text had made her. He had no right to jerk her around like that if he was serious about Hannah.
"No, Booth. I... I thought that I would be okay. I understand and accept your decision. I even respect you more, in a way, for not abandoning Hannah. I don't know why I thought that your feelings for me would remain constant, especially after all we've been through in the last year. And I know that you love her. You should stay with her, Booth. She makes you happy, and I know how important monogamy and marriage-"
He laid a hand on her knee, interrupting her.
"Bones." He searched her eyes with an intensity that made her ever-racing mind go still. "What happened?"
All she could do was gulp and hold her phone out to him with a trembling hand.
"You can't tell me you're still in love with me, Booth. Not after tonight."
His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. He took the phone and quickly read the words on the screen, shock and concern evident.
"I didn't send that," he insisted, shaking his head emphatically. "I promise, Bones, I didn't. I... I typed it. But I didn't send it. I decided that it wouldn't be fair to you."
"Well, you must have sent it accidentally." She looked away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry." Her eyes landed on a curious piece of paper on his coffee table.
"I'm the one who should be apologizing to you. I sent the message."
She brought her gaze back up to his. "Is it true?" Her voice was suddenly soft; vulnerable. They studied each other for a moment, both searching desperately for something deeper than words.
When he spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. "Yes. I... I can't help it, Bones." Brown eyes burned into blue. "I'm starting to think that I'll never be able to get over you. But I have to try. I have to give Hannah a chance."
"I know," Brennan whispered, looking towards his closed bedroom door, and then back to the small sheet of paper on the coffee table. It was covered in handwriting, but not Booth's. Something tugged on her subconscious mind. "She loves you, Booth," Brennan murmured, half of her mind trying to figure out why the paper was commanding so much of her attention.
Booth's eyes followed Brennan's gaze to the note. He moved his hand to reach for it, but paused before his fingers ever made contact. "Hannah..." he mumbled, as he stood suddenly and walked toward the bedroom.
Brennan furrowed her brow and frowned, picking up the paper with delicate fingers.
"Hannah?" Booth called, a little louder. He walked to Parker's bedroom door.
Brennan's eyes skimmed over Hannah's loopy handwriting.
"She's not here," he said, stunned. "Her stuff's gone."
"Booth," Brennan called out to him, her voice tight with pain. "Look." She stood up and brought the note to him. He read it quickly before letting his hand fall and dropping it to the floor, dazed.
"Booth?" Brennan said tentatively, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. He stared straight ahead, not seeing her.
"She's gone. Hannah's gone."
"I know," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, sweetie."
The term of endearment, so uncharacteristic, yet so filled with meaning, snapped him out of his daze. He finally turned to look at her face. Brennan's eyes were full of tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She was hurting for him. Overwhelmed by everything- her show of emotion, the weight of their conversation in the car, Hannah's departure, the mess he had made- everything, Booth felt his tears coming, too. He pulled Brennan into a tight hug as sobs shook through his body.
"Shhh," she murmured through her tears, rubbing up and down on his back comfortingly, "Shhh, Booth, I know."
His own pain was suddenly forgotten at the sound of the grief in her voice. He guided her head to rest against his chest, placing his chin on top of her hair. "Oh, Bones, don't cry. I'm so sorry for making you cry. I'm so sorry, Bones, so sorry. What's wrong with me?" Brennan knew that he was remembering their conversation from earlier that evening.
"You need to sleep," she whispered, pulling her head back to look up at him. He was a mess of emotion.
"Sit here," she directed, leading him to a chair. She disappeared into his bedroom. Booth was so tired, he couldn't even wonder what she was doing. His eyes raked sadly though his apartment. It felt strangely empty, even though Hannah's belongings had only filled three small suitcases. Brennan returned several minutes later with a small duffle bag he normally kept in the bottom drawer of his dresser. It looked full.
"Come on, Booth," she murmured, tugging on his arm gently and leading him towards the door.
"I thought you said I needed sleep?" he asked.
She nodded as her eyes swept the room. "Yes, but not here."
Relief spread through his chest and trickled down to his fingertips. He hadn't realized how suffocating his apartment had been until she pulled him out of it, like she took the lid off of his coffin.
... ... ... ... ...
Thanks for reading! Please review, if you feel so inclined. I think I'm addicted to reviews.