Day 18
She couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts.
Everything was so different than it used to be.
Brennan got out of her bed and made her way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. This day would be drastically different than six years ago. Different than one year ago. Different than even last week or yesterday.
Angela and Hodgins are married with a baby. Vincent Nigel-Murray is dead. My father is alive. Parker has cancer. I'm a bestselling author. Booth and I aren't partners. My parents abandoned me out of love? I'm virtually alone. The thoughts swirled around in her head. It felt like one of her cases, with all of the facts about the victim floating around until she fit them together with an identity and a killer to make them make sense.
But somehow, her pieces didn't make sense. They were all facts, but somehow they didn't fit together. How was this her life? When did she go from being a dedicated forensic anthropologist to this? Basing my demeanor and my attitude on my emotions… this is not a reasonable way for an intelligent woman to conduct herself.
She tried her best to compartmentalize, but now she found that the pain was devouring her from the inside out.
Booth woke up late.
After leaving the hospital, he went to his apartment and nursed a few beers and went straight to sleep. This morning, his back was killing him. He needed an adjustment. Just another reminder that he screwed up and there were consequences.
Booth slowly rose from bed and shuffled to the kitchen. No pain could keep him from eating. The vigil at the hospital the night before made him ravenous that morning. The fridge was nearly empty besides ginger ale, some eggs, and jelly. He decided the best choice might just be to go out before work.
After catching a quick meal from the diner – yet another reminder – he arrived at the Hoover for the first time in weeks. The time off to take care of Parker was good, but now distractions were necessary and welcome. He was eager to start another case and adding another tally to his cosmic balance sheet.
Unfortunately, his co-workers didn't get the memo.
Word spread quickly through the large building that the brilliant team split up. Some whispered about how unbelievable it was that their chemistry was ruined; others were angry that the partners with the highest solve rate were so selfish as to split up. Others showed pity and pain for the man.
Booth walked through the building, realizing that every detail stuck out to him. In the past, the bullpen was just a blur on the way to his office or the conference room. Now it seemed as if every lingering glare and distant whisper was a neon light, flashing warning signs in Booth's face.
He made it into his office and shut the door. He dared not look out of the glass again at the other agents. It only made him feel weaker and less in control than he already did.
Booth silently swore as he sat down at his desk, remembering his dinosaur of a computer. He turned it on and it whirred to life.
Booth waited for the ancient machine to load. He looked around his office, which seemed to be cloaked in a metaphorical coat of dust. It seemed like a different world than the last time he was there. It seemed dimmer, less hopeful than it used to be.
His blank stare at the room was broken only by footsteps and the sound of his door opening. Booth snapped out of his trance and greeted his guest less than enthusiastically with a grunt.
"Agent Booth," Sweets began, "how's it going?" Sweets stopped a few feet from the desk with his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels.
"Agent? Since when am I Agent again?" Booth's eyes remained on the computer screen as he entered his password to enter the system.
"Since I'm here as Dr. Sweets."
Booth looked up, eyes narrowed. "What is this? They're sending you in here to mess with my brain and make sure I'm functioning for duty or something? I'm fine Sweets, really…" he trailed off with an uncomfortable laugh.
"Actually, that's exactly why I'm here. But we can talk as friends if you'd like." Sweets held his hand out in gesture.
"Ha, no, no Sweets. You gotta choose. One or the other. At least you have to choose when you're comin' in here." Booth continued to look at the computer screen, clicking away at the e-mails he neglected to check in the past weeks.
"Agent Booth, surely we can be friends outside the office and colleagues in the office. I have to oversee…" Sweets defended.
"Well I guess you've chosen, Doctor Sweets. So get on with it, what do you want?"
"It's been recommended that you be assessed for your fitness to come back to duty. You've been through quite a bit of emotional trauma recently…"
Booth interrupted. "I've been stressed out, alright Sweets? I'm not sitting here crying am I? Now who you need to check is Richardson down the hall, he's been eating expired yogurt from the fridge I hear." Booth smirked, pleased with himself to shut down the adolescent-like doctor.
"Agent Booth, you can't just interrupt me. If I don't clear you for duty, they'll take your gun until I tell them otherwise. Just cooperate and we'll figure this out."
"Ya'know what, Sweets, I liked you better when you…" he trailed off. Something on the lit screen caught his attention.
"When I what?" Sweets inquired. "Agent Booth, what is it, what are you staring at?"
In Booth's inbox was an unread e-mail. He hadn't clicked on the line – he felt paralyzed by it. She sent it the day after he found out about Parker's condition.
Sweets made his way around Booth's desk to look at the screen. His eyes immediately dropped to the Sender column where 'Bones' was listed. The subject line was empty.
"Oh. Uh, Booth?" Sweets looked to the agent's face and back to the computer. "Are you going to read it?"
Booth's answer was evident when he clicked the link. A new window popped up and the words of his former partner came onto the screen.
Booth,
I know that you are angry with me and that you are disappointed I would be so secretive about something that I am aware is significant in your life. I am not going to say I am sorry for keeping it from you, rather, that I did not know of a better solution to letting you know. Please accept my apology in my absence, as I will be out of the country for an indefinite period. I hope that we will be able to converse as colleagues again, but if we cannot, know that I do care for you and will miss being by your side.
Love,
Brennan
Booth buried his face in his hands. If the guilt didn't kill him now, he didn't know what would. It felt like a theme in his life – he protected others and what he got in return was a load of guilt. He was an excellent protector with the marksmanship and support system to prove it, but he was an even better martyr.
"Booth…" Sweets started, anticipating interruption. When he found no response, he went on.
"Had you not seen this before?" Booth barely shook his head.
"How are you feeling?" He took a chance on a question that typically elicited a threat from the agent.
Booth simply shrugged.
"Can I tell you what I think about it?" Sweets ventured, still hesitant.
Another shrug.
"I believe you and Dr. Brennan never really dealt with everything that happened between you. You, confessing you loved her after we talked about my book; her, confessing her regret over not trying. It's a door that you never closed. It's like it's letting in a draft and you can't shake the chills."
Booth remained still and quiet. Sweets sat in the chair in front of Booth's desk and leaned forward with his elbows propping his upper body over his knees.
"You both have your ways of escaping dealing with it," he continued. "For Dr. Brennan, it's leaving the country and identifying remains. She can go to a world where no one from her past exists and she doesn't have to deal with any of the pain for that period in time. I suspect, however, that it still plagues her despite her physical distance from the situation.
"You, on the other hand, feel guilt for things that are not your fault. Sure, you were a sniper. You had to kill people. You explain to people, including Dr. Brennan, that you were just the finger that pulled the trigger. But do you believe that? I think you carry that guilt with you and use overprotectiveness as a mask so that you don't have to let anyone in and see that. The guilt eats you up."
Booth pulled his hands away from his face and covered one hand with the other and resting his chin on them. Sweets noticed his bloodshot eyes and dark circles under his eyes.
"I just don't know what to do." Booth finally spoke. "I mean, I'm not mad anymore. But she definitely is and shows no signs of forgiving me anytime soon."
"Booth, I think the important thing to remember here is that all her life, Dr. Brennan has been conditioned to keep her emotions in neat compartments where no one can touch them. She avoids forming emotional attachments to protect herself."
"That's why she was so upset when Russ and Max came back." Booth grumbled. It was making more sense to him. She was more fragile than she let on. She told him on a few occasions that he was the only one she told about something. Something personal.
And now, here he was, pushing away the best friend he'd had. The smartest. The most beautiful.
"I think you just need to be honest with her. But take your time. If it took seven years to get her to where she was, know that it will be quite challenging to get her to open up again." Sweets lifted himself from his chair and headed towards the door.
He turned back to face a shrunken Booth. He looked small – not from loss of mass, but from grief. "And I'm sure you know this – but I can't clear you to work in the field quite yet." He expected a rebuttal, but was surprised to receive only a nod in return. "I'll be around if you need anything."
He left Booth to think about their conversation, the e-mail, and Parker. He felt at war with the universe, with God. He was unarmed and he was alone.
AN: Who would have thought I'd write a longish chapter? Booth is finally coming to his senses a bit. But how will he actually make up for his anger with Brennan?
Please let me know what you think. I won't beg for reviews, but I certainly like to know what I've done well and what I've done poorly. Thanks for reading!
-zee