Chapter 14

I would like to give a shout out to the three people who reviewed last chapter (PercyzBookworm, luckywynner86 and mendenbar). I would also like to say that this chapter was... difficult to write. I had the ideas, the beginning, the ending all planned out, it was just difficult to say what needed to be said. So reviews would be nice. I'd love to know if you guys want me to keep going with this story, because as each chapter comes, it's getting harder and harder for me to write it.

He didn't see Brennan that night, or at all on Sunday for that matter. Brennan had been busy with interviews and book signings for her book tour all weekend. She had, however, managed to schedule in time to have a few brief conversations with Booth over the phone at night time, discussing their respective days and arranging a date for Monday afternoon.

Booth had spent the better part of his Sunday morning planning the date for Monday. There would be no fancy restaurants, no special connections or string pulling this time. It would be Booth, Brennan and some of the finer historical sites of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

His afternoon, however, was spent venting his frustrations over the case at hand at the local gym, thrashing the boxing bag with all of his might. It, perhaps, wasn't the best coping technique for stress, but Booth figured it was much better than spending an afternoon at the FBI shooting range, emptying clip after clip into a lifeless paper target until he felt better. At least, he thought, this way both he and Brennan could enjoy the benefits of Booth's vigorous, albeit unhealthy, workout.

Monday morning came too quickly for Booth's liking. Despite having taken the afternoon off to show Brennan around Philadelphia, Booth was not looking forward to the mountain of paperwork he knew would be waiting for him at the office.

So in a vain attempt to make the afternoon come quicker, Booth hauled himself from the comfort of his warm bed, and into the bathroom for a shower.

The knock on his front door twenty minutes later startled Booth, and he was quick to grab his shirt off the back of the dining chair and throw it on before swinging the door wide open.

"You could've called, Don" commented Booth, turning on his heel and walking back into the house as he fidgeted with his collar, none too pleased with who'd shown up at his door, or why.

Don followed closely behind Booth. "Yeah, well this couldn't wait." He handed a folder to Booth, who flicked through it, wincing at the contents as he read the reports.

"I guess we know who the snitch is, huh?"

"He was found in a ditch last night in the bad part of town by a couple of teenagers. My guess is McLeod told Laurence we figured there was a snitch and he knocked him off."

"Could be..." shrugged Booth, "Or it could be the fact that he was given a tip which led to five of his men being incarcerated, and figured it was a setup."

Booth slipped on his holster , then his tie, before shrugging on his jacket. "I hate dirty cops" he mumbled.

"Dirty cops? C'mon Booth, you know that it comes with the territory. There's not much we can do about it."

"Yeah, I guess" shrugged Booth as they made their way to Booth's SUV. "But most guys only come across one or two dirty cops in their entire career. But Roberts is what, my fifth or sixth in less than 20 years. I guess I'm just a bit over them..."

"Why? What? Did you have a bad run in with some dirty cops?"

Booth's defeated look was all the proof Don needed. "What happened? Did one kill your partner? Or was it your partner?"

"Almost and No!" came the automatic response from Booth.

"Wait, What?" Don's eyes widened at the realisation. "The Doc? He went after the Doc?"

Booth wrenched open his driver side door. "I don't wanna talk about it!" he said, and slammed the door shut behind him in finality.

Casework for the morning was slow going. The autopsy of the snitch, Tom Roberts, was taking longer than anticipated, and the arrested men were resisting to give further information on Laurence and his plans.

Sauntering into Booth's office and grabbing the football from the desk, Don slouched down into one of the chairs opposite the desk, tossing the pigskin between his hands.

"She survived, didn't she? I mean, she wouldn't be here if you hadn't saved her."

Don watched Booth's expression darken, and Booth reached out his hands to grab the football off Don.

"Point is, I almost didn't, alright?"

Don was hesitant to pry. Booth's past was kept under lock and key, and he of all people knew that if Booth wanted, or needed to share, he would. "What happened?" he finally asked, sighing as he waited for Booth's reaction.

"It wasn't the first time she was attacked by a dirty cop, and it probably won't be the last. But for me, and probably her, it was the scariest. We were chasing a suspect, me and Bones, during a case a few months after I came back from Iraq. We'd never suspected a dirty cop to be involved in this one, it just seemed like a simple open-and-shut murder for us to solve. So, obviously, when the perp led us down an alley, the last thing we expected to see was the cop waiting for him, gun at arm's length, pointed at me and Bones."

"I told her to get back. I had the gun, I was the one who was meant to go first, ya know. She didn't listen. I kept calling her to stay down and come back to where I was, I even tried grabbing a hold of her jacket, but She's so... she's so goddamn stubborn. I didn't realise he had guys surrounding the area, backing him up, so we I was caught off guard when I heard the Glock being cocked behind me."

"She picked that moment to charge the guy, trying to knock him off his feet. His thugs knocked my gun from my hands and held me back, and I watched on as... as... She...uh... she got shot. That bullet was meant for me, Don, for me."

"What happened after that?"

"Bones, she bled out... a lot. I finally broke free from the other guys, and shot the cop. His thugs ran off, and I got to Bones just in time. She was in the hospital for two weeks, and spent three days in a coma."

Booth sighed. He'd never told anyone this story before. "I was still with Hannah at that time. I... I didn't go and visit Bones very often while she was in the hospital. Mostly because I felt guilty for what happened. If Bones and I hadn't been fighting before we started chasing the perp, maybe we would've been fine. I don't know. There's no point speculating about it now, it was over three years ago."

Don sat back in his chair, blown away by what he'd just heard. "Shot? She got shot? Wow, that's just... Wow."

"I'd worked with her for six years, and I always kept her safe, you know. But it just takes one time, one time to slip through the cracks. She always told me it wasn't my fault, but I still feel guilty about it. Her father, Max, however blamed me for all of it. And he's a guy who doesn't beat around the bush. He blamed me, which made me feel even guiltier for it all, because I promised him that I'd always keep her safe."

"Was that why you...?'

"Left? No, not exactly. It's kinda why Hannah left, kinda, but no... I left because of Bones, not because of guilt. I had loved her for so long, and had changed her mind on half of the things she believed in, but I could never change her mind about love, about us. She was certain we were destined to be platonic. And after everything we went through, she still wasn't willing to give us a shot, so I left. I couldn't deal anymore. I spent years denying how I felt, and then I spent years hiding how I felt... When you're rejected twice, what do you do?"

There was an awkward silence that hung between them for a few minutes as the words Booth had spoken sunk in. "Uh, shouldn't we, uh, get back to the case Don?"

Don shook his head, a vain attempt to make the fuzz clouding his mind disappear from the intense conversation he and Booth had just shared. "Yeah, sure." Don stuttered a bit, reaching for the file Booth was handing him as he scanned it. "Laurence's lackeys have been processed and are waiting for a transfer to other correctional facilities around the area. Autopsy on Roberts is almost done, gunshot wound up through the head from the underside of the jaw, Laurence's M.O. Nothing else out of the ordinary so far, but we'll just have to wait for the autopsy to be complete by Steph."

Booth sighed, the action expressing his depression over the case. Sure, these small facts were leads, but they were simply basic facts that wouldn't help them locate Laurence or anticipate his next mood. Basically, they were useless.

He'd been sure since the beginning of this case that it would be a career killer for him – it certainly had been for the last poor schmuck who'd been handed it, quite literally. He'd been murdered by either Laurence or one of his thugs before backup or the EMTs could get to him. And though Booth was the Director, and it was not his duty to act as the lead on a case, or be directly involved in them at all, he missed being a field agent and thoroughly enjoyed the physical and mental aspects of being out in the field.

He'd been handed the Laurence case six months prior after it had sat cold for almost a year after the Lead Agent was slain. And, even though Don was technically 'Lead' on the case, Booth took it as an opportunity to relive some of his glory days, which Don gratefully indulged him in.

"We'll get him, Booth." The statement shocked both men as the words slipped from Don's mouth. "we'll get Laurence, and McLeod for that matter, before any harm can come to the Doc, alright!"

After a vegan lunch at a small cafe on Broad Street, Booth and Brennan proceeded, hand in hand, to some of the finer points of interest in Philadelphia. First on Booth's list were some of the museums. He was taking her to the Franklin Institute to see one of the exhibits they were currently showing – Cleopatra: The Search for the Last Queen of Egypt. Booth knew that 'The Mummy' was Brennan's favourite movie, and though her field of study was Forensic Anthropology and not Cultural Anthropology, she did enjoy learning about the lives of those in other cultures in Ancient times.

His next stop was the National Constitution Centre, where he and Brennan revelled in the intensity of what created their nation. They bickered over various historical events, assassinations (in particular that of President Lincoln by John Wilkes Booth), and everything felt natural, as though no time had kept them separated or events pulled them apart. What surprised Booth, though, was one of the exhibits on display.

"Booth!" Called Brennan, and she dragged Booth over to the entrance of the exhibit that had piqued her interest. "Art of the American Soldier. We have to see this Booth!"

They wandered through, examining each piece as they passed it. "Some friends of mine, old army buddies from the first Gulf War submitted some pieces back in the early 2000s. Usually these are only kept on military grounds, but I guess someone figured it was time for the world to finally see what life was like for the soldiers, how they viewed the fucked-up mess they were in."

Booth sighed. He actually recognised some of the paintings and some of the artists, which he pointed out to Brennan as they walked by. There was one in particular which caught Brennan's attention as they passed by. "Booth," she called, worry edging her tone as she scrutinized the painting before her. Booth was quickly by her side, but took a step back upon seeing the painting.

"This painting has excellent brushwork, and the detail in the image is excellent. Didn't you say this was one of your army buddies?" she asked, pointing to the plaque beside the painting. The painting depicted four men, sitting around a fire, and drinking beer with photos of their girls back home being passed around between them. Their uniforms were clearly visible, and so were the names across the chest, though to protect privacy, nicknames were used, presumed Brennan.

Booth nervously palmed the back of his neck. "uh... yeah, so it is. Ha, who knew?" He tried to move Brennan to the next painting, but her focus was fixed. "There are several men with their names visible on their uniforms. The signature in the corner says that this was painted by a 'Tex', yet the man with 'Tex' on his uniform strikes a remarkable resemblance to you, Booth."

Booth took a step backwards, unsure of how to approach the subject. "Yeah... uh... about that..."

Realisation struck Brennan and she stood up straight, pointing an accusatory finger towards Booth as she stepped towards him. "You... You... you painted this?" Her voice hitched at the end of her question, making her uncertainty and doubt clear to those surrounding them. A silent, most discreet nod was given by Booth as he kept his gaze down, as though her were ashamed to admit that he was the artist. "You painted this, and your buddy gets the credit?"

Booth jumped to attention. "You'll note, Temperance, that it says 'Submitted by Rai Parkins', not 'Painted by Rai Parkins'" Brennan's stare gave no room for argument, and Booth quickly hung his shoulders in defeat. "Alright, Bones. Yes, I painted that, back in the First Gulf War. That's one of my favourite memories from back then. That night and painting that piece." Brennan gave him a sceptical look and folded her arms over her chest, her foot tapping impatiently on the floor as a crowd watched from a few metres away. "I gave it to the guys, I didn't need another reminder of what had happened during those times; I had enough of them. Obviously, Rai submitted it. We all got a letter from the Army a few years ago asking for any art pieces from my army days to be submitted. It wasn't compulsory or anything like that, but Rai must've seen some talent in it. I think he's an art critic or curator or something now..."

Brennan's foot stopped tapping. "Seeley Joseph Booth, you mean to tell me that we have known each other for a decade and I'm only now finding out that you have artistic talent? You know, Angela would've hated you much less for leaving if she'd known how artistic you were..."

"And she probably would've dragged me along to every art show she could find. That or make me pose for her own art..." Booth shuddered at the thought of posing naked for Angela in her office at the Jeffersonian. He'd been there and done that once before, he didn't need to be stripped down to his socks for Angela's own enjoyment too. "Look, you're making a scene, Bones, so let's just move on from this painting, and get through the day, please."

Brennan unfolded her arms, stopped tapping her foot and gently took hold of Booth's arm as they moved on to look at the other artworks. When they were a couple of metres away, Brennan noticed the huge swarm of people now surrounding Booth's painting. Brennan snickered and pulled Booth's attention to the scene. She absolutely lost herself in hearty laughter as Booth covered his eyes in a vain attempt to hide himself from the embarrassment.

After a light afternoon snack at one of the cafes in the park area, Booth and Brennan meandered over to the Liberty Bell, and spent a good while wandering around the park grounds, before Booth took them on a guided tour of Independence Hall. Brennan was finding all the history in Philadelphia very interesting.

"I had only done some light Googling before I came here, so I find your knowledge of the area quite... intriguing. It's refreshing to see you with all of the knowledge on a topic in a setting where I would usually dominate."

Booth took the compliment in his stride and tried his best not to let his ego take over at that moment, or his libido for the possible double-entendres encased in Brennan's final comments.

Nervously, Booth pulled at his non-existent collar as he cleared his throat. "So, Bones. Where to for dinner? It's getting kinda late and the sun's almost gone. I figured you might be a bit hungry."

Booth smirked as he and Brennan caught a cab to Old City and pulled up in front of a beautiful looking restaurant. Brennan gasped as she climbed from the cab and Booth paid the driver.

They were directed to a little private booth towards the back, lit by exquisite candles as they perused the menu for dinner, and Brennan chose a glass of wine, while Booth opted for a nice beer. As Brennan read through the menu, she stopped and slammed it gently on the table, also lowering Booth's.

"This is a vegan restaurant, Booth" she commented in a whisper. Booth simply nodded.

"You might also note that it's eco friendly, all the food is organic and sustainably grown. I know how much you care for the environment, Bones." He gave her his patented charm smile, and for once, Brennan was helpless to resist it.

They wined and dined until the later hours of the night, leaving Farmicia sometime after 10:30 and making their way down to Penn's Landing to glimpse out at the waters by moonlight.

"I've been having a really great night, Booth" admitted Brennan as they watched the ferry leave the dock. "I thoroughly enjoyed visiting those museums, and spending time doing something that I enjoy." She'd really enjoyed her last two dates with Booth, but in her opinion, this one was the icing on the cake. In simple gestures, Booth had shown just how well he knew Brennan, from the vegan restaurant to the museums and historic sites they'd visited in the afternoon. A part of her didn't want the night to end, she hoped that tonight was the night for her and Booth, and she could tell that Booth hoped so too.

"Yeah, well you could've had all of this a long time ago..." It was mumbled under his breath without a second thought of whose presence he was in. He didn't exactly mean for it to come out or for it to sound so rude, but it was the truth. A part of him, buried deep inside, wanted to punish her for making him wait so long to have this chance.

"Excuse me?" asked Brennan, her gaze shifting directly to Booth as she searched for some reasoning as to what he had just said.

"I... uh... I didn't mean..." stuttered Booth, but he was cut off by Brennan before he could explain himself, not that he actually had an explanation at that moment.

"I tell you how much I'm enjoying spending time with you, how much I like that you put thought into such an antiquated practice, and you just throw it back at me by reminding me of my past mistakes. I'm sure your ridiculous dating protocol dictates that flaws and mistakes are taboo subjects for discussion!" With that, Brennan turned on her heel and stormed off towards the car park, away from Booth.

He was quick to follow her, racing after her, dodging cars until he finally caught her. "Look, that's not what I meant, Bones, and you know it."

"Well, what do you mean?" challenged Brennan, turning to face him and staring straight at him, standing as close as she could without physical contact, and without Booth being able to overpower her fighting nature with his warmth and heart.

"I never said any of it was a mistake, Bones, just that things could be a lot different. You, of all people, believe we are the sum of our parts, so we probably weren't meant to be together then."

"And maybe not now" she mumbled in retort, a mistake as she flared Booth's anger, stoking it like a raging fire having alcohol thrown into it.

"Now, wait a minute. I gave myself to you, one hundred percent. I offered you everything I am, everything I was, and it wasn't good enough for you. I wasn't good enough for you! You always, always, always take the time to think serious, life altering decisions through, but it took you all of three seconds to turn me down." He couldn't stop himself, the words, however painful they were to speak or hear, were spouting from him uncontrollably.

"How do you think that made me feel? I've spent my life searching for absolution, to rectify my cosmic balance sheet for everything I've done, and I thought finally, finally, I'd paid my dues, that I could move on from this life, that I could be rewarded. I thought that you would be my reward, for all of my self restraint over the years..."

"I'm not an object to be owned, Booth!" shouted Brennan in retaliation. "Nor am I something that can be given."

"And I never said you were, Bones. I just thought I'd finally caught a break, you know? You... you were so happy, even for one second, and then you threw it all out the window."

"A personal relationship would never have worked between us, Booth."

"Where's your proof, huh? Our partnership wasn't supposed to work, but we were solid for five years!"

"And it ended, just like everything else does, Booth"

"Because of you!" His words were spiteful, and they stung Brennan like poison, but she bit them back.

They were silent for almost a minute, absorbing the words exchanged between them. This was not the way either of them imagined their evening going.

Finally Brennan broke the silence. "It hurt, Booth."

Booth was genuinely confused by her words, her confession. "Huh?"

"That night, it hurt to turn you down Booth, but I know now that it was for the best." It was a quiet confession; Brennan kept her eyes down the entire time so as not to reveal her betraying eyes to Booth. Tears were threatening to spill over, but Brennan held firm.

"How so?"

And so Brennan recalled to Booth a conversation she'd had with Angela a while after coming back from Maluku.

It was a crisp Friday night, and Brennan was cooped up in her office, working on yet another set of remains from Limbo. This had been her routine since she'd returned. She would spend most of her time at work, catching up on everything she'd missed while she was off chasing a fantasy.

"I know your fear, Bren" stated Angela, her tone expressing just how serious she was, as she sashayed into Brennan's office.

"Pardon?" came the reply, but Brennan never lifted her head, she remained focussed on the task at hand.

Angela sighed. Why couldn't anything ever be simple with Brennan? As she took a seat on Brennan's couch, her hand gently resting across her stomach, she thought of how she would share with Brennan something that she'd kept in for so long.

"'Friends!' That's what I told Hodgins all those years ago. I know your fear, Bren, because I've been there. It's the fear that it won't work out, that we'll lose everything that we value, everything that means something to us. I told him that it might not work out, and where would we be if it didn't. And his response, Bren, was 'What if it does?'" And he was right. It was great, it was perfect even, and though we broke up, we found our way back together again, as in love as ever, despite all of the obstacles we had to overcome to get there."

"Don't you get it, Bren? It's worth it. It's worth the risk of losing something so dear to you, because what you gain, Bren, it's more magical and precious than anything you could ever imagine. It was worth the risk for me. I have no regrets. And for a love, true love, like what you and Booth could have, I'd risk it all again, so why shouldn't you?"

Brennan took no more than three seconds to give her answer, as coolly and calmly as she could muster, despite the inherent need to bawl over Angela's words and her hurt.

"Because Booth has Hannah."

Booth was truly touched by what Brennan had just shared with him, but despite that, her words had not helped her case.

"That doesn't justify it, Bones. In fact it proves you wrong!"

"You get the gun and the badge. You have your bucket list, your 'cosmic balance sheet'. When I turned you down, everyone felt sorry for you, because apparently, you were the only one hurting. But you were the one who actually had a reason to keep going, Booth. You had a reason to live, and I had nothing."

"You could've had everything, Bones" said Booth, almost defeated.

"And when I left, I needed a perspective on my life. You didn't have to leave. In fact, you admitted it was a mistake leaving DC, leaving Parker. I got my perspective, I finally realised that I couldn't live in a world without you. But when we came back, you had Hannah. That initial pain was necessary, Booth, because it made me realise just what I was missing. But you caused unnecessary pain, Booth, when you brought back Hannah. I spent months trying to be happy for the two of you, to accept that you had actually moved on. And every day of it was painful" a tear escaped Brennan and trailed down her cheek. "And you... you didn't even realise how much I was hurting. You weren't the same man when you came back, and we could all see it-"

"-I wasn't the same man when I left, Bones. I was dying inside; I had to get out of there after you turned me down, Bones. Don't you see? Trying to be partners with you, knowing that you knew how I felt about you, was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Before that night, I could pretend, I could pretend I didn't feel how I felt, and after two years of it, it was fairly easy. But that night turned everything upside down, for me and for you, and I couldn't hide it, Bones. Because you knew, and you felt nothing!"

"So you loved Hannah because it was easy to pretend around her?"

"Maybe I'll tell you that story another night, Bones, but right now, it has no place in our argument!"

"You weren't the same man!" stated Brennan, infuriated that she had to reiterate her point to continue her side of the argument. "You spent hardly any time with me in those months."

"I had a girlfriend Bones, you passed up that opportunity, and we both knew things had to change. I had a girlfriend to take care of."

"I TOOK A BULLET FOR YOU!" Brennan practically screamed the words at Booth. "I almost died, Booth, and had you not been so taken with Hannah, maybe you would've realised just how little you were there for me during that time."

"I visited, Bones. I came to see you." His words were almost a whisper as he tried to bring the volume of the argument down, but Brennan was unrelenting.

"Twice! I was in hospital for two weeks, in a coma for three days, and you visited me twice!"

"I came in with you, Bones. But if you hadn't been so quick to be a hero, to prove a point to me, then maybe you would've been conscious for that part, for the part where I completely blew off Hannah for the three days when you were in that goddamn coma and maybe you would've known that I never left your side for more than five minutes during that time!"

She was taken aback by his statement. No one had ever told her that side of the story, the part where Booth actually acted like his old self. Perhaps Angela had kept it from her to keep her sane – she was the only person who knew how much Brennan was hurting over the Hannah/Booth situation. But still, despite her lack of knowledge of Booth's presence, it still didn't explain his whereabouts for the remainder of her time in hospital.

"Explain to me this, then Agent Booth. If you cared so much about me, like you claim, then why did you only visit me two more times in two weeks?"

Booth sighed; he should've seen this question coming. "Because, Bones, Angela kicked me out. She blamed me for all that happened. She told me I might as well have pulled the trigger, because I was just as guilty as the guy that actually shot you. I didn't visit because you didn't deserve to see me and Angela having it out in front of you!"

It was partly true, both he and Brennan knew it. That was part of the reason he didn't visit, the other part being he was too busy with Hannah.

"Don't lie to me, Booth. You spent all of that other time with Hannah, probably romping around your apartment. You were so blinded by her that you couldn't see how much we all needed the old Booth back!"

And with that, Brennan stormed away from Booth again. He was completely infuriating, and every minute she was with him at the moment stirred something deep within her that had laid dormant for over three years. She needed this release. Booth needed to know how much he'd hurt her.

When he caught up to her again and spun her around, Brennan stared him down in silence. "Why did you leave?"

"Because of you!"

"And what did I do?"

"It's not what you did, Bones, it's what you didn't. It was over between me and Hannah; it had been for months-"

"A month!" corrected Brennan.

"We were finished. I tried. I tried my hardest to make you see that things could work out between us. I took you out on dates that any normal woman would swoon over. I showed you just how much I still cared about you, I tried to make up for everything I'd put you through. But I wasn't enough. I tried to make it work between us, but you... you wouldn't budge. You always have to be right, but you were so wrong this time. You wouldn't give me the time of day, Bones. You wouldn't meet me halfway, and you just ignored me like you did when we first worked together. I had to leave, Bones, because I couldn't take it anymore. I was going crazy. I could've had you; we could've had each other if you hadn't been so... so... cold!"

She'd been called cold before, but those words coming from Booth were the final straw. She looked him square in the eyes, grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a demanding, passionate kiss, and just as quickly, released him and stormed off up the darkened street in North Philadelphia. Booth was still stunned by the sudden kiss, and by the time he'd wrapped his head around what was going off, Brennan was nowhere in sight.

She was mad. No, she was beyond mad. She was pissed! Brennan stormed. She could've taken anything from Booth in the way of name calling, but not that. He would never call her cold. Does he really think that of me? Brennan rounded a corner, hoping she could find solace from the Booth that would surely be on the hunt for her now, but found herself falling down to the ground after bumping into someone.

"'Allo Love!"

Okay, so this story is actually set in about 2014, but when I was doing research for this chapter, I couldn't resist the War Paintings exhibit on at the Constitution Centre (You Americans get so many cool exhibits), and I had to throw it in. And since they are paintings by soldiers, and Booth was a soldier, I just had to put a painting in by him, just to add to his history, although it was submitted without his knowledge by his buddy. I apologise for the inaccuracy this will bring to this piece, but indulge me :D

Reviews will be much appreciated, and rewarded with thankyous and imaginary choc-chip cookies :D I am also happy to answer any queries you have about this story.