Remember that point in time when Booth decided Hannah deserved to know everything… that Brennan had ever thought or felt… but made no admissions of his own? Where's that Catholic guilt now, jackass?
Gotta say… had the season ended a little more unhappily, this angry stuff would be easier to write. However, had the season ended a little more unhappily, I'd probably stop watching altogether. So… my muse takes the hit. I can live with that. :) But I feel like Booth's assine tendencies throughout season six need a little airing out and we've got 17 weeks until a new episode... Cue a kickass Doctor Brennan who's a little more in touch with her feelings. This takes place post-Blizzard (which, despite what follows, is still one of my favorite episodes of all times). : )
I'm never certain about my own writing, and if it makes sense to anyone but me… that's definitely true with this piece. To my beta on this one who doesn't want credit (is that cause it's actually really bad? :)) …thank you anyways. We all need a beta. #JenaFanficRules.
Also, check my profile for a link to The Bones Baby Name Pool… If you're so inclined to bet in a non-gambling manner on those sorts of things!
This was one of those "you can cut the tension with a knife" scenarios.
It had been awhile since they'd been sitting on his couch, together.
In fact, he knew exactly when the last time they had both been in his office together, sitting before him. At least, before that day, they came a little more willingly and seemed to like him at least some of the time.
Today was an entirely different story.
Today, their presence was mandated. Because you can't have a screaming match in front of a half dozen agents plus a couple dozen lab techs and local law enforcement officials and not have such an event make it back to the top brass at the FBI. And when the bosses hear one of their top agents has been openly fighting with one of the agency's top consultants at a crime scene, they don't want to interfere themselves.
That's what FBI psychologists are for.
"One of you needs to speak up and tell me what happened," Sweets pleaded.
But the agent and FBI consultant before him maintained their stony focus, one to the wall and one to the window, as they both clung to their respective ends of the couch in order to put as much physical space between them as the furniture would allow.
"Doctor Brennan?" he asked, thinking she might be the easier egg to crack. The irony of that thought wasn't lost on him.
"Nothing happened, Sweets," Booth said, afraid that his very honest partner would outright answer the 12-year-old. He hazarded a glance at her out of the corner of his eye to see she hadn't flinched. Hadn't moved, hadn't reacted… hadn't taken off that stony look she had the last time she looked at him before leaving the crime scene earlier that morning.
"There are at least 30 agents, lab technicians and Jeffersonian employees who'd be willing to recount the events as they witnessed them for me. So, I can go to them, learn what happened from their points of view, and make my recommendations to your supervisors about the future of your working relationship. Or, you could talk to me. Because what happened today was definitely something and if you're not going to tell me something, anything, I can use, your superiors are seriously considering ending your partnership."
"Maybe they should, Sweets," she said, barely above a whisper.
Now Booth and Sweets were both staring at her, eyes wide. "What?" he said, first in shock, before he scoffed. "You don't mean that Bones," Booth said dismissively.
"This isn't working. You are hostile and pushy and often just downright mean to me when we have to interact. My role in this 'partnership' has clearly been redefined by your actions as 'restricted to the lab and a crime scene when necessary', while yours is in the field. If I need a face-to-face conversation with you, I have to come to the Hoover, because you've only graced the lab with your presence twice since we returned from our sabbaticals. It's clearer to me each day that what was our partnership is no longer something you value. I am just a means to help you close an investigation, rather than an active participant."
"How could you think that?" Booth asked incredulously, but with an underlying tone that Sweets thought was laden with guilt.
"How could I not think that? I'm a scientist. All I have to go on is the evidence, and the evidence in this case is quite clear," she said in a most factual tone, still not making eye contact with either man.
"Well, maybe it would be easier for our professional relationship if you remained professional at all times," he said cattily, scrubbing a hand over his face.
"I'm going to need you to clarify how any of my behavior prior to you yelling at me in front of your colleagues and mine could be classified as unprofessional," she stated, her tone remaining completely even.
"All I'm saying is if you're going to discuss plans with your new boyfriend, it would be nice if you could wait until we're done at a crime scene."
"I'm not dating anyone," she said with a twinge of anger rising in her voice.
"You could have fooled everyone with the way you and Agent Sanders were around each other today."
"You mean the agent who caught me and kept me from falling when my foot slipped in the pit of mud that the decomposing body was laying in, so that I didn't disrupt the evidence at a crime scene?"
"It was a lot more than just catching you. He was like a needy puppy, holding your hand, looking over your shoulder as he watched you work."
"He was being observant and asking questions relevant to the case. I didn't find his presence inappropriate, since he was working, as was I."
"And then you guys were discussing your dinner plans."
"Again, no. He was asking me to dinner, which I politely rejected because I was at a crime scene and needed to transport the remains I was looking at back to my lab so I could solve a murder. However, I was again delayed from returning to my lab after finishing that conversation, because I received a berating from another FBI agent regarding the speed at which I was working to retrieve the remains out of a muddy pit, in the rain, further causing my delay. Much like this meeting is keeping me from the lab," she said, standing to make her way to the door.
"All I'm asking for is a little professionalism," Booth said, rolling his eyes are her retreating for, making a gesture toward Sweets that this was just more proof to make his point about her unprofessionalism.
"Then maybe the next time you have an issue with something you think I've done, you could be an ass in private."
Wanting to keep Doctor Brennan from leaving, Sweets spoke up at a near shout. "Agent Booth, why does it bother you if another man shows interest in Doctor Brennan…" he said, which still hadn't gotten Brennan to turn around, as she opened the door. So Sweets pressed on quicker.
"…especially since you made it clear to Doctor Brennan that you weren't interested in a relationship with her, when she revealed to you that she felt her initial reaction to your overtures may have been a mistake."
That last part caught her attention.
Booth looked at Sweets agape, not believing he had just brought that night up, barely having a moment to react before he heard the door slam shut.
Both Booth and Sweets jumped at the sound, but Booth visibly relaxed a bit while Sweets remained wide-eyed and fearful of what was to come. Booth's problem was he thought the slamming of the door meant his partner had walked out, which would give him a moment to recover from this and beat on Sweets for starting this whole mess with his poking and prodding.
Sweets was wide-eyed because Brennan had slammed the door with her still in the room and was now standing behind Booth with a kind of anger in her expression he had never seen present in the anthropologist features before.
She didn't walk back around the couch. In fact, she made no noise at all, not even enough for a sniper-trained Army Ranger to pick up on, until her hands were resting on the back of the couch. He jumped, letting out a yelp as he felt her arms extending pressure on the couch, and she leaned down so that her voice was level with his ear while standing behind him.
"It was one thing when I had to accept your need to tell Hannah what I said. But you told Sweets too? This, coming from the man who once bit my foot off for telling his boss that he didn't like eggs in his meatloaf because they reminded him of eyeballs. I get that my timing was terrible, but I've never lied to you Booth, and I wasn't about to start, not then, not ever. I don't lie. You'll have to forgive me, for assuming what was ours was still ours."
"Bones, I only told Sweets because…"
"I haven't shared that conversation with anyone else, including Angela, my best friend. It was private, it was personal, between you and me. You used to be someone I could trust. 'What's goes on between us is ours' remember?"
"You can trust me! I told Hannah because she had the right to know and I told Sweets because…"
"I. Don't. Care," she said with an eerie calmness that made Sweets squirm in his seat. "I don't care about your reasoning, I don't care…" she said, pausing. Something in her eyes, in her expression changed, and Booth knew what it was before he could name it, much less stop it. It was defeat, plain and simple.
"I'm done caring," she said, barely above a whisper, before pushing off the couch and turning to leave. "I'm just done, period." And with that, the door opened and closed faster than Booth could round the couch.
He paused at the door, the slamming of the door and the look on her face nearly paralyzing him. "What do I do?" he whispered, mostly to himself. But he remembered Sweets was still in the room and turned to look at him, a plea for direction in his eyes.
"I don't know," was all Sweets could say.
When his feet allowed him to move, Booth tore out of the room, brainstorming what words could act as the metaphorical sledgehammer he needed to tear down that wall of cool, calm, purely rational scientist she started rebuilding before his eyes, a wall that only took him seven years to break down to begin with. Things had been better lately. He thought things had been getting better. But then he saw Sanders talking to her and hovering around her and she laughed and smiled…
He couldn't remember the last time he made her smile, really smile at him, because of him, for him. Despite being better, it was simply a "better than it was last week" kind of better. Not a return to them. Not nearly enough to be satisfactory. She smiled a real smile and it was because of someone who wasn't him. And something inside him just… snapped.
He darted for the elevators, but immediately unwilling to wait long enough, he headed for the stairwell, and bolted down seven flights of stairs toward the parking garage, hoping to catch her before she left. He called dispatch, which patched him through to the garage attendant and told him to prevent her from leaving until he reached the gate to the garage. He had to catch up to her. He had to… hell, he didn't know what he needed to do, but the woman who made up one half of the most important relationship he's ever had just said she was done with him.
That had to be enough motivation to get over his anger issues, right?
Sweets had followed Booth out of the room, steps behind him, and watched him dash down the stairs. Booth thought if he could just stop her from leaving, he'd fix it. Sweets' made a note to point out to the agent who could read suspects well-enough to predict their next moves that he no longer possessed the same senses when it came to his partner. He heard the elevator ding onto his floor from when Booth instinctually hit the button, and he dashed for the door and rode it five floors up. When the door opened, he broke into a run for the assistant director's office.
"Stop! No, Doctor Brennan, don't do this. Don't go in there, yet, please," Sweets pleaded.
He had walked into the AD's outer office in time to see Brennan speaking to his secretary Marjorie, who had the phone in her hand, likely calling the director and asking for time for Brennan to speak with him.
"Please, Doctor Brennan," Sweets pleaded, placing his hand on her arm.
She glared at him, for his nerve, his gall to chase after her, and even worse, that it was Sweets who knew what she was doing. Something about him making contact by grabbing her arm, however, softened her. She almost laughed when it crossed her mind that in the past, if a man had made the same gesture, she would have flipped him onto his back.
"You can come back and have this conversation with the director at any time. Right now, you're angry and you have every right to be. I just want you to be 100 percent sure this is what you want…" he said, pausing as noted that the receptionist looked at them with interest. He used the grip he already had on her arm to pull her away from the desk for privacy. "If ending your partnership is really what you want, it can wait until tomorrow. Hell, after what I just saw, I'll help make sure it sticks, if you want. But I want you to be really, really sure this is what you want."
Aside from a particularly hard swallow on her part, Brennan's face was void of emotion. Almost as if her personality had vacated her person. Sweets saw this as an opportunity to lead her away without getting his ass kicked.
"Come on, let's get out of here. We can talk, or not, but you don't need to be here right now," Sweets said, tugging her arm. She started walking with him without a fight. Sweets opted for a different route out of the building, using an elevator off the main lobby to descend from the building.
Brennan remained quiet the entire ride down, finally speaking when they reached the ground floor.
"My car is in the garage," she whispered, as Sweets took a more active role in directing her by putting his hands on both of her shoulders and guiding her forward.
"And right now, I bet Booth has security waiting for you to hold you until he reaches you. How do you feel about going for a walk back to the Jeffersonian?"
"You don't have to walk me out, Sweets."
"Just in case Booth spots you, I can run interference, giving you whatever time you need to get away, get space. Okay?" he asked, with a take-charge confidence that might have surprised her if she wasn't suffering from some sort of shock over her own actions.
Sweets walked her to a back door, and asked the security guard to check Brennan out at the front desk, handing him her visitor's pass. The delay in notifying the security guards at the front desk would buy Sweets more time to get her away from the building. Sweets kept his hands in place, guiding her by her shoulders in a near hug, as they made their escape.
He ran back down to the parking garage, coming out the door to see her car still parked in the spot she'd left it in. The garage's security officer shook his head 'no' when Booth looked to him, asking the unspoken question of where his partner had gone.
He ran back up to the front lobby, and searched for her. It didn't make any sense… if she didn't go back to her car and she didn't walk out of the building, then where in the building would she be…
Dammit.
He ran out of the elevator onto the twelfth floor, other employees nearly diving to get out of his path.
He ran into the director's outer office at full speed, and he heard the receptionist chuckle. "I figured I'd see you soon, Booth. What did you do to that partner of yours?"
Booth's face dropped. "Marjorie, is she in there right now?"
"Nope. Your Doctor Sweets prevented her from going in. Director never even knew she was here. They left a few minutes ago," she said, nodding toward the door.
"Thank you," Booth said as he sprinted out of the office. As he reached the elevator, he thought to try Sweets' office to see if she was there. He stormed, in, saw no sign of them and ran back out. Again, waiting for an elevator to return felt foolish, so he bolted down the stairs.
He'd sprinted from the Hoover toward the Jeffersonian on foot. She hadn't taken her car, and while his would theoretically be faster, D.C. traffic would likely waylay him.
Despite running, she still had a decent head start and he didn't catch her until she was walking up the steps of the Jeffersonian. He could see Sweets walking next to her, hands in his pockets, while she walked, looking straight forward and holding herself with crossed arms.
He doubled his efforts on foot to cross the mall and called to her as he neared the steps. While Sweets turned around with a look of defensiveness toward him that, on any other given day, he would have respected and appreciated on his partner's behalf, today, it was just annoying.
Brennan maintained her pace without falter towards the front doors while Sweets turned and stepped down the steps toward Booth.
"Sweets, not now," Booth barked as he reached the psychologist, who crossed his arms in front of him.
"Bones, we need to talk," Booth shouted, trying to side-step Sweets who was doing better than he expected at the task of blocking.
Brennan's hands hovered over the door handle, wanting to pull and retreat to her sanctuary.
"Come on Bones, I know you didn't mean what you said back there. Let's talk and we'll fix this."
She turned and looked at him incredulously. "Maybe I don't want to fix this."
"You don't mean that. You're just scared and running, like always."
"No, I'm not. But you… you're still mad at me," she said matter-of-factly.
"I told you, in my apartment, I'm not mad at you."
"Since you're apparently so willing to lie to me when it suits you, I'm comfortable concluding that that's another lie."
"Bones, I'm not…"
"Yes you are. You're still mad at me for what happened last Spring."
"I'm not discussing this in front of the kid."
"Oh, so if we left here, just the two of us right now, you'd be willing to discuss it?" Brennan looked at him intently and he looked away without saying anything. "That's what I thought."
She started to walk toward the door, before she turned on her heel back to face him. "You know, throughout our partnership, you've been telling me that I need to open up, that I need to show people how much I care, to give a little bit of myself to someone else to show them that I really understand. And I've listened Booth. I've always considered you the expert on these subjects, but the truth is, you are nothing but a hypocrite."
"A hypocrite? Me? A hypocrite." Booth repeated incredulously.
"Would you like me to get you a dictionary? Yes, Booth, you are a hypocrite. I have to open up, I have to share pieces of me with you and the world but you rarely ever do the same. Not for me, not for anyone."
"That's rich Bones. You're one of the hardest people anyone can ever try to get to know. Your need to be purely logical, without any room for an explanation that might not fit into a neat and tidy scientific box," Booth said, making a tiny gesture with his fingers. "You insult people's beliefs and feelings constantly, without any thought given to how you might affect them. You use your logic to close yourself off to people which more often than not, makes you seem mean and thoughtless and c…" he stopped himself suddenly as he realized what he was saying.
"Cold? That's what you were going to say, right? That's what you thought of me that first case we worked together. And apparently, you still do." Brennan said, her voice flat.
Booth, kicking himself for going there, started to backtrack. "Bones, I wasn't…"
"Shut up, Booth," she said quietly, but with enough venom to make him flinch. "I may not let many people in, but the people I have let in, know me well. That's the problem with letting people get close to you. They know exactly what to say to hurt you best."
Booth crossed his arms, half in defense, half in defeat. "So, calling me a hypocrite was just you proving you know how to get under my skin."
"No, calling you a hypocrite was me telling the truth. In this partnership, I'm expected to open up and tell you how I'm feeling constantly. You're angry. I know you're angry. Sweets knows you're angry, everyone knows you're angry! Booth, you're just mean now. And I know some of your anger was my fault. 'Was' being the operative word. Because since that night, you've dated, you've fallen in love, you've had a woman move-in with you and you asked her to marry you. And the fact that none of that worked out the way you wanted it to… that's not my fault. In some ways, I resent Hannah for just picking up and leaving. I resent Rebecca for being Parker's mother. Because you won't get mad at Rebecca because she is Parker's mother and you can't get mad at Hannah because she's gone, so I'm taking the brunt of all of it because I'm still here. They left you and I'm still here, so it's my fault. Everything and everyone you're mad at, you take it all out on me. And taking the brunt of all of your anger… it hurts. And you not talking about your anger, not dealing with your feelings, whether you discuss them with me or someone else... That makes you a hypocrite."
"That's why I talked to Sweets…"
"About MY feelings, not yours!" she screamed in frustration, before composing herself again. "You don't hide your feelings as well as you think you do, but then days like today happen, when you just metaphorically explode. Had there been a clown at the scene, live or mechanical, it would have met an untimely end. I did nothing to deserve being berated at that crime scene, Booth. I did nothing to deserve that and the only person at the crime scene who could be classified as being unprofessional was you."
"Fine, I'll admit that maybe I overreacted to what was going on, but…"
"I'm still talking," she said so harshly that he physically took a step back in shock. "You know, there was a time when I was willing to accept that you were angry, and my role in the reasons you felt that way, but I can't be entirely to blame anymore. I'm tired of your snide remarks. I'm tired of you lying to me. And most of all…"
"What? What, Bones, get it all out, tell me all I've done to wrong you," he sniped.
Brennan tilted her head with a look of disbelief over her features, before shaking it. "That night, when I asked you if we could still be partners… I asked for the wrong thing. I didn't know…" she said, pausing.
"Since we got back, we've been partners. We still work together. But…what I should have asked for that night is if we could still be friends. I never… I didn't think those two things were mutually exclusive. I couldn't imagine…
"I've told you about my regrets that night. You know I have them. Given time, I was able to realize that. If I could go back and change it, I would. And I've never believed in thinking like that, because it's not possible. Why wish for something that could never happen? I can't change that night, Booth. But if I could… More than anything, Booth, I miss my friend. If I could go back to that night, I'd ask for my friend, not my partner," she said sadly. "If I could go back to that, as irrational an idea as time travel is, if I could only have one night to go back in time and change something, it'd be that night."
The both stood there in silence as Sweets racked his brain for what he could possibly say at this point. Brennan had been so open with her feelings and Booth appeared as if that honesty was beginning to crack him. He was staring at Booth, psychically imploring him to say or do something. But he stayed silent, allowing Brennan to continue.
"After Hannah left, you told me I had a choice. You told me that we could be partners or see myself out the door. Working with you, just being your partner while you display hostile contempt for me? I'd do just about anything for you Booth. I'd kill for you. I'd die for you. But this? I can't settle for this."
She sighed, all the fight left in her seemingly exhaled with that breath.
"Thank you for walking me back to my office, Doctor Sweets. Doctor Saroyan will be in touch with any updates on the case," she said to both of them or no one in particular, before she walked through the doors and disappeared from their sights.
Booth stood there for a full minute before he reached for the handle to the door to go inside. But he didn't open it.
Booth stood holding the door handle for nearly another minute, during which Sweets turned and walked away, leaving him there to decide what, if anything, he was going to do next.
Hey… this is an Angry series. Nothing in this thread ends over pie and milkshakes and sweet-baby-making-love. While I considered carrying this fight out for awhile, I've got a better, season seven fight I've been toiling with. So, this ending is what you get. Was it worth it? Are you still mad about Booth's need to spill all about Brennan's feelings only? Should I put away my writing quill?
Comment, complain, etc., with the review button. I'll love you for it always. :)