Chapter 25
Ten minutes after hanging up with Angela, Booth waved a hand at her from his seat in the diner as he saw her walk in the door. He had already ordered them each a cup of coffee, and Angela smiled at his thoughtfulness as she sat down. "Thanks for coming, Booth." She did a double take at the bandage on his forehead. "Whoa, what happened there?"
"I wrecked the truck," he flatly stated, his tone dismissive. "I don't want to talk about it. What's this about breaking a promise?"
Angela looked nervous and somewhat guilty all at the same time. "Not just breaking a promise - keeping one too. Well, breaking one promise to keep another, I guess. I promised Brennan I wouldn't meddle into what's going on with you two. I also promised to just be her best friend. But after what she let slip at her apartment last night, I've come to the conclusion I can't do both. Booth, you know she's my best friend, right?"
Booth's stomach was beginning to clench. What exactly had Brennan let slip that was so important Angela was willing to go behind her back and talk to him? "Of course."
"And that I'd do anything for her?"
By this time, Booth was leaning across the table he was so eager to hear what she had to say. "Yes - Angela, what did she tell you?"
"Booth, I know that you told her how you feel. I also know that she kissed you and then told you she didn't return your feelings."
Booth studied his clasped hands on the table, somewhat surprised that Brennan had been that forthcoming, even to Angela. "Okay." He could tell Angela was building toward something, so he didn't comment further.
"She's lying, Booth. Brennan does return your feelings. She all but admitted it to me."
Sitting back in his seat with a heavy sigh, Booth tried not to show his disappointment. He had hoped to find out something new. "I already know that, Ange."
Angela looked surprised, but recovered quickly. "Okay. But do you know why she's pretending she doesn't?"
That got his attention, and he looked up sharply. "Aside from the obvious answer that she's having a hard time being around me after what happened in Albania, I would assume it's because the whole idea of relationships in general scares her. She thinks everybody that she loves leaves her. She thinks I would leave her, and what happened on the plane just confirmed it to her."
Angela leaned across the table toward him this time. "You're wrong, Booth. That's what I thought too, the whole time she was trying to convince me that kissing you was a mistake and she didn't feel anything for you. So I tried to tell her that you would never hurt her or leave her, and that's when she completely lost it. She forgot all about her little act, and got real. And the first words out of her mouth were that she knew you wouldn't."
Booth's mouth fell slightly open, feeling like the world had just tilted underneath him. "She said that? That she knew I wouldn't hurt her or leave her?"
'Then why...'
The world didn't get a chance to right itself before Angela set it spinning out of control again. "Yes. Right before she admitted that she can't control being afraid every time you get too close. She tries not to be, but she can't help it. That's what this is really all about, Booth: not being able to have sex. She said it wasn't fair to you - that if you were already giving up marriage and children to be with her, it wasn't fair to ask you to stay if she couldn't have sex with you."
For a moment he sat reeling, a dumbfounded look on his face, and then a moment later all Booth could see was red. Blind fury filled him, making him feel as though the top of his head was about to explode. Without thought, he reached for his wallet and threw the first bills he found onto the table before standing up angrily.
Angela watched her friend's reaction to her revelation in horrified fascination. He looked positively murderous, and for the first time in her life she was somewhat intimidated by the FBI man - even though his anger clearly was not directed at her. After his somewhat underwhelmed reaction to her assurance that Brennan loved him, she hadn't expected him to blow up when she revealed Brennan's reasoning. She didn't know why her revelation had produced such anger. What she did know was that Booth was preparing to storm out of the diner, and she didn't need to have a genius level IQ to know where he was going - and that going there with a head of steam wasn't going to fix anything.
Jumping up from her seat, she hurried around him and blocked his path, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. "Whoa, big guy. Sit down."
"Get out of my way, Angela." His voice was a barely controlled low growl, his eyes focused on a point past her. He wouldn't even look at her.
She had come this far for her friend - both of her friends. He could act as tough and mean as he wanted. She had the advantage: she knew him well enough to know what he would and wouldn't do. It wasn't as if Booth would actually hurt her, so she refused to be intimidated by him any more than she had already. "No. Sit down, Booth. Sit down and calm down."
Booth yanked his wrist from her grasp, his eyes leveling on her angrily. "I said get out of my way, Angela. Now."
She actually took a step closer with a disbelieving chuckle, her voice bold. "Or what? You'll growl at me again?" Her face turning serious again, she still refused to back down. "I'm trying to help both of you, Booth. You need time to think about this before you say something to her that you're going to regret. Sit down and talk to me. Tell me why you're so mad. Because I'll be honest with you, Booth, I don't understand."
Crackling with tension, his eyes flicked past her to the door as though he still wanted nothing more than to stride angrily out of it and find the woman who had him tied up in knots. But after a moment, he gave her a tight nod and moved to sit back in his seat, ignoring the curious stares of the wait staff. They would certainly have something to talk about until the next time he came in.
Angela sat across from him quietly, waiting patiently, watching as Booth sat there alternately shaking his head, sighing, and clenching his jaw as though he just couldn't bring himself to believe what he had heard.
He could have handled hearing that she still believed, even after all this time, that he could possibly abandon her. That fear was one that ran deep in her, and he was prepared to deal with it for a lifetime, proving that fear to be unfounded every day of his life.
He could have even handled hearing that she didn't want to be around him at all because of what he did in Albania. It would have hurt like hell, but at least it would make sense.
But finding out that she not only loved him but would like to have a relationship with him, but just didn't trust him enough to know he wouldn't expect sex immediately? It felt like an attack on his character. His voice, when he finally spoke, was ragged in a way that left no doubt of the raw emotion coursing through him.
"Four years, Angela. Four. Years. Has she not heard one damn word I've said to her the whole time? Does she even have a clue who I am?"
"Booth..." Angela tried, wanting to calm him down as she saw him rapidly becoming more agitated. Even had he not cut her off, however, she wasn't sure what she would say. He was clearly going to make the same argument she had tried to make to Brennan, only with a thousand times the intensity.
"No, Angela! Do not make excuses for her! Everything I've done for her, everything I told her about love and making love and being with someone through thick and thin for a lifetime - she knows what I believe! I tell her I want all of that with her, and she...all she gets out of that is to boil the whole thing down to sex?"
His voice rose steadily until he fairly yelled the last word, slamming his fist onto the table for emphasis. Had it not been for the intensity of the moment, Booth and Angela might have both found it ironic that it was Booth who was suddenly shouting about sex in public, drawing the scandalized stares of other diners and the now openly staring diner staff.
His keen senses did pick up on the fact that he had an audience, but instead of shutting down in embarrassment he simply lowered his voice to an angry hiss as he continued to vent. "How can she even think that, Angela? After everything I've proven to her, how can she even think that I wouldn't be willing to work through that with her - especially knowing that I'm the one who caused it? And even if I wasn't... I've worked through all of her other damn walls and hangups. And now, knowing that I love her, suddenly she thinks all I want out of her is sex, and that I'll leave if she doesn't put out?" A disbelieving and disgusted sound crossed his lips. "Jesus, Angela...if that was all I cared about, I could have had that and been gone a long time ago. It's her that I want - just her. I'd wait for her forever and never love her any less."
Angela gingerly reached across the table and laid her hands on top of his. "I know that, Booth. You don't have to convince me, okay? I know that. I know what kind of man you are. But you have to understand. Brennan's not like you. She doesn't see the world the way you do. Every relationship she's ever had, that's all there was to it - a physical connection. She's never had an emotional connection to a man before. And yes, she has one with you; and yes, that scares her to death. She doesn't want to lose that. But when you start talking about love and being together, the first thing that comes to her mind is sex, and right now that's making her panic. She doesn't think she can keep the emotional connection without the physical one if she admits to her feelings. It's the only way she knows to hold onto it, and she knows she can't do that right now. So she's trying to keep the status quo. In her own weird way, Brennan's pushing you away so she doesn't lose you. She truly thinks she's doing the best thing for both of you."
Leaning back in his seat, Booth scrubbed both hands over his face, pulling them away from Angela. Blowing out a long, frustrated breath, he looked toward the ceiling. "You're right. I need some time to think about this before I talk to her. Because right now, I just want to shake her."
That actually drew a knowing smile from Angela. "Believe me, G-man, I get it. Don't worry, it probably won't be the last time, either. There's one other thing you should know, though."
Trying to return her smile and failing miserably, Booth wondered if he looked as exhausted as he felt. "And what's that?"
Serious again, Angela lowered her voice. "She's still having the nightmares, Booth. She had another bad one in the middle of the night last night. We slept in sleeping bags in the living room, and suddenly she was kicking and fighting and screaming." Angela shuddered in remembrance. "It was terrifying. It took forever to wake her up, and when I did, she screamed your name. I just thought you should know. She broke down right after that, and cried like her heart was broken."
Every trace of anger was gone, complete concern filling Booth's face. "When she called my name," he started hesitantly, "was she..."
"I don't know, Booth." She knew exactly what he was asking, and she was going to give him total honesty. "I can't honestly say. I'm not even sure she knows."
The two stared at each other for a long moment, united in their shared concern for someone they both loved. The ringing of Booth's cell phone broke the moment, and he moved to answer without checking to see who it was.
"Booth."
"We have a positive identification."
He was used to his heart skipping a beat when he heard her voice recently. He wasn't used to it pissing him off that it did so. "That was fast."
"We had dental records, and Mr. Bernadetti had a pin in his ankle. The serial number was a match."
Suddenly, he wasn't so sure he wanted to take her with him to make the arrest. An hour trapped in the car with her at that point was something that suddenly seemed less than pleasant. He was still hurting from the idea that she had been afraid not so much of what he had done in Albania, but that she apparently thought he couldn't control himself in the future. Deep down he knew that he was oversimplifying and definitely twisting her words somewhat, but at the moment he was insulted and hurt and that was what it felt like - an assault on his character. How could she have such a low opinion of him? He wasn't sure he could keep a tight enough grip on his tongue not to say something he would regret. Better safe than sorry...
"Thanks, Bones. That's all I needed to make the arrest. See you tomorrow."
Just before he could hit the button to disconnect the call, fully aware of Angela's eyes studying him like a hawk, he heard his partner's soft voice.
"You don't...want me to come with you?" Just like that, the rational professionalism was gone, and her voice was all insecurity and hurt and lost little girl again. His eyes slipped shut, and damned if he didn't want to beat his head on the table in front of him. Because suddenly he knew without question that Sweets was right: he needed help, and he needed it in the worst way; because he still couldn't deny her or push her away when she reached out to him. He knew right then that he was beyond hope.
"Do you...want to come, Bones?" he asked, recognizing the hopeful tone in his voice. Strike that - he didn't just need help; he needed to be sharing a room with Zack at the asylum - it was the only possible explanation for why any part of him suddenly desperately hoped that she would say yes. He had to be some kind of sick masochist. Or maybe it was her who drove people crazy to start with...
"Well..." she sounded as though she might back out.
In total disbelief, Booth looked to Angela for help, knowing with one look that she was able to hear both sides of the conversation through the cell phone. Inexplicably, her face showed hints of amusement, even as he felt like screaming. If Bones went through all that just to tell him she didn't want to go...
"It might be for the best, Booth. Considering your recent propensity for drowsy driving, perhaps you should have someone with you to keep you alert." One little incident, and now he had a 'propensity' and was some type of damn charity case.
"That's great, Bones." He only sounded slightly sarcastic, to his everlasting credit. "I'll pick you up in five minutes."
Hanging up, he shot Angela a look. "What?" So far as he could see, there was nothing to look amused about.
"Have a nice trip, Booth. Thanks for the coffee."
"You're welcome," he groused, still not quite understanding her delighted look as he stood up and made his way to the door to go pick up his partner.
ooo … ooo … ooo
The drive from D.C. to the suspect's home in Gaithersburg was approximately a 30 minute drive. Brennan spent about the first 15 minutes giving him her usual rundown of everything she had noted about the remains, what Hodgins was doing with the particulates, and the ballistics tests that were being run on the bullet and weapon. He let her words wash over him as he tried not to think about what he and Angela had discussed.
Her revelation had completely altered his way of thinking about what was going on between him and Brennan. He had been so sure that Brennan was running from him because relationships in general scared her about being abandoned, or because she was afraid of him after Albania and therefore didn't want a relationship with him at all.
But it wasn't either of those things. She knew he wouldn't abandon her in general- had admitted it to Angela. And she apparently did want a relationship with him. She just didn't want sex right then - which he found completely understandable. It was her lack of faith in him to be understanding that hurt so much. Why couldn't she have just told him? Being upset with what he did in the past he could accept; being nervous of him in the present he could accept; having no trust in him to do the right thing in the future was more than a little offsetting.
But as he thought about it more and cooled down while she rattled on about the case, he began to see things from her side. What had been his first act after telling her he loved her? Within moments, he had taken her mouth like he intended to take her right then and there. Even as he had made the huge mistake of moving his lips down to her neck, he had known that he had no intention of going very much farther at that point: not in some ramshackle roach motel, not for something he had dreamed of for longer than he cared to admit. It wasn't even something he wanted to do right then. He had his own scars from Albania. His intention in moving to her neck had been an effort to erase some of those scars from them both - the right intentions, gone about in completely the wrong way, in a moment where control eluded him. But how could she have known that? From her point of view, his kiss must have spoken of complete intent. If she had the idea that having sex immediately was mandatory to having a relationship with him, he couldn't completely blame her or profess ignorance of where she might have got that idea.
No wonder she had panicked. Suddenly, he was very glad Angela had stopped him from storming out of that diner. He did need to talk about it with her...but it needed to be done in a very careful way, and that wasn't what would have happened right then. He would have put the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.
"Are you listening to me, Booth?"
His mind was a jumble of questions…'What? Huh? Oh, crap.'
"Of course I'm listening, Bones." A quick smile to cover his lie, and he assumed that she would just start rattling on about the case again as he tried desperately to figure out how to broach the topic he most wanted to discuss.
"Then aren't you going to turn around?"
"Huh?"
She was looking at him with that exaggeratedly patient kindergarten teacher look, the one that said he was obviously quite dense and she would speak more slowly so he could get it. "I was telling you that you just passed the Gaithersburg exit." She leaned slightly toward him, enunciating each word. "We're going. The wrong. Way."
He cleared his throat. "Right. I know. I'm taking the back way in." Sneaking a glance at her, he was surprised to see something that might pass for a smile pulling at the corners of her lips - a tiny smirk that usually meant she was going to attempt to drive him crazy. He had to be imagining it, but he still found himself wishing for it more than he could have ever imagined.
"Perhaps you should let me drive, Booth. Clearly you're too distracted to focus properly on your driving. That is why I accompanied you, after all."
His head snapped toward her with a look of pleasantly amazed shock at her light, almost teasing tone. Was she trying to banter with him? It was something so normal that he wouldn't have expected it, least of all now. But suddenly he realized just how much he needed some normal interaction with her - something that was just them, and not filled with subtext and unspoken feelings.
He had been preparing to bring up what Angela had told him. But was Bones craving some normalcy as badly as he was? It was such an obvious place to start that he would have never thought about it - but after her talking for 15 straight minutes about the case and him not doing anything to push her or make her uncomfortable, maybe she had relaxed enough that she was falling back into their routine a little bit.
Suddenly, he was more grateful than he would have ever thought possible for missing a turn. Testing the waters, he put on his mock stern face and gave what he hoped was the appropriate response, pointing a finger for emphasis. "Forget it, Bones. You are not driving this car. You don't even have your driver's license back yet. I'm in enough hot water as it is for wrecking the truck."
He was absolutely delighted to see one eyebrow go up and a familiar spark enter her eye as she rose to his challenge. "All the more reason you should let me drive - I'm not the one who has demonstrated a tendency toward distracted driving twice now in the past 24 hours."
He had taken the next exit by that time, and was winding his way back toward the correct road, taking his time now. Deep in thought for the first 15 minutes of drive time, his foot had been heavy on the accelerator. Suddenly, he didn't want this drive to end. "Twice? C'mon, Bones, I just missed an exit. That doesn't even count! It could happen to anybody."
She had narrowed her eyes at him. "Your point is irrelevant. It didn't happen to anybody else. It happened to you. I'm quite certain that I would not have made the same mistake."
The happy smirk that lit up his face wasn't forced in any way this time. "Well I'm quite certain that we're never going to find out, because you are never going to drive this car. Ever, Bones." Leaning slightly in her direction, he gave her his best cocky grin. "Ever."
Her arms crossed across her chest as she gave him a look he recognized. There was no flicker of fear as he leaned toward her, no anger, no hint of pulling back - just gloriously normal Bones meeting his challenge and refusing to let him have the last word. It almost made him dizzy.
"Perhaps Sweets would be interested in your territorial aggression issues."
"Sweets?" he almost whined back at her. "Why do you always have to drag Sweets into it every time you lose an argument?" He cut her off with a disbelieving snort before she could complain about that remark. "And territorial aggression issues? You're making that up, Bones. There's no such thing."
"Yes, there is."
"No, there's not."
"There is."
"I've never heard of it."
"You're not a psychologist."
"Neither are you! You hate psychology. But making up psychological conditions? That's bad even for you, Bones."
To his utter enthrallment, a truly happy chuckle broke free from her throat as she shook her head at him, a clear indication to him that he had caught her - and the first time he had heard her laugh in what seemed to be forever. An answering, completely dazzled smile broke out on his own face, and for just a moment they sat grinning at each other, happiness in both of their eyes. For Booth, it was as though the clouds were beginning to break free and finally allowing the sun to poke through.
"Booth?"
"Yeah?" He couldn't stop smiling, even as he realized he had been looking so much at her that he had almost run off the road.
"That's three."
"Three what?"
"You were distracted again. You ran off the road."
It was probably a bad idea, but he was going to say it anyway. Turning a soft smile in her direction, he let his heart show in his eyes as he lowered his voice to a more serious tone. "Yeah. You're right about that, Bones. I was definitely distracted." Winking at her happily, he turned his eyes back to the road and tightened his hands on the steering wheel, hoping he hadn't just made a huge mistake.
Her smirk faltered and her eyes dropped to her lap, and for just a moment his stomach sank. But from the corner of his eye, he saw the smirk come back as quickly as it had disappeared, and he almost wrecked a second time when she leaned toward him and poked him in the arm with one finger, her eyes gleaming. "So that was three. Three strikes, you're out. I'm driving home."
His eyes danced even as he grumbled. "Jeez, Bones, how do you even know that term?" She simply continued to look at him in triumph, and he finally gave a sigh that was supposed to sound defeated but sounded anything but. "Now she finally gets a sports reference."
ooo … ooo … ooo
A comfortable, companionable silence of the type that was more characteristic for them had ensued for the final few minutes of the drive to the suspect's home. The hammering in his chest was back, however, at the idea of her being in even the slightest amount of danger. "Listen, Bones, this should be quick. Why don't you just wait in the car?"
She didn't even grace that with a response. She just got out and followed him to the door - or raced him to the door might have been a more apt description of the way she seemed determined to be by his side if not in front of him. They practically danced on the top step as he rang the bell, her continually trying to shuffle to a place by his side and him continuing to sidestep and move in front of her to keep her behind him. "Stop it, Bones," he stage whispered over his shoulder. "Just stay behind me!"
The arrest was easy as could be - the suspect had engaged in multiple conversations with the FBI since the murder, and had no reason to believe this time was any different. He opened the door, and Booth had him in handcuffs practically before the man comprehended Booth telling him that he was under arrest for murder. After patting him down and making sure he was clean of any weapons, he had him in the back of the car almost immediately.
Suddenly, he realized there was another thing he hated about driving a car instead of a nice, roomy SUV. Yes, the bastard was in handcuffs, and yes, Bones could probably kick his ass to the moon and back even now. But something about the idea of having his hands on the wheel instead of where he could protect her with a murderer two feet behind her made his skin crawl. He was going to have to get this ultra-protectiveness under control, but he could start tomorrow. He had just had a great idea of how to kill two birds with one stone: give her control, let her know he was giving her control in plenty of ways that had nothing to do with driving, and be free to get at the prisoner behind them if the guy so much as breathed on her.
"Here ya go, Bones." He flipped her the car keys and made for the passenger side.
The shocked look on her face was more than worth it. "Booth, I can't actually drive. My driver's license is still in Albania."
Leaning against the top of the car and looking at her over it, he smirked at her. "You're with a cop, Bones. Shouldn't be a problem."
Again, she seemed eager to banter with him, putting her hands on her hips. That smile that kept threatening to break through on her face was like a balm to his soul. She was making progress before his very eyes - she was trying to fix things between them, at least on a friendship level - and all he wanted to do was hug her for it. Hell, he was probably even going to hug Spencer when he got back to the Hoover Building. And Cullen. And maybe even Sweets...okay, well maybe not Sweets.
"I don't know, Booth. That seems even more reason to obey the law. You did arrest me once before."
Rolling his eyes, he got in the car and waited for her to get behind the wheel. "You shot an unarmed suspect with alcohol on your breath. This is a little different. I think I can look the other way on this one."
With one more suspicious look, she cranked the car. "And you're not going to make comments about my driving?"
It was the opening he was looking for. Fixing his eyes right on her, he spoke in a low voice meant to make sure she would catch his double meaning. "Nope. You're in control, Bones - 100%. You're behind the wheel. So however fast or slow you want to go, the decision is yours. Do you understand me?" Her gaze was utterly locked on him in mesmerized fascination, but he wasn't sure if she understood what he was trying to say. So he leaned in just a little bit. "You're completely in charge from here on out. I promise." Her slightly widened eyes and the way her breath caught told him that she was starting to get it. So just before leaning back away from her to buckle his seatbelt, he reiterated it one last time. "I'm giving you control, Bones. Take it. For just as long as you need it."
Almost five minutes later as she guided the car back toward the highway, it was so quiet he almost missed it: "Thank you, Booth."
ooo … ooo … ooo
The presence of the prisoner kept their conversation to a minimum on the return trip, as he suddenly decided to ignore his right to silence and talk a blue streak. Unfortunately, it was mostly empty denials. The following three hours passed quickly with their return to the Bureau, the interrogation, and the eventual confession of the prisoner under Booth's relentless technique.
Both were exhausted after their first day back, as Booth let her drive them again back to the Jeffersonian. When they had emerged into the parking deck, only one awkward moment had occurred, when Booth automatically started toward the driver's seat. Seeing the disappointed look on her face had brought the smile back to his. "All you had to do was say something, Bones." He had given up the keys with a flourish, she had grinned back at him with almost childish delight that she was being allowed to drive, and they had made their way back to the Jeffersonian.
This time he didn't even consider not going inside with her. The air between them was so relaxed that he had almost forgotten that there were still huge obstacles standing between them. His hand even found its way onto her back - slightly higher than normal, but still there - as they walked through the door into the lab. He almost panicked when he realized it, but she never so much as tensed.
"Perhaps I should drive all the time, Booth," she began as they strode across the quiet lab. It was early evening by this time, and not many people were still there. "We made quite good time while still maintaining an acceptable gas mileage."
"Acceptable gas mileage? Is that code for taking off so slow I grew a beard before we hit 40 miles an hour?" he teased.
She only cut her eyes to the side in response before hitting him where it hurt. "Since I am in charge, I suppose this means you will finally be approving my application for a gun as well."
"Don't push it, Bones," he grinned. They were getting close to her office, and it was now or never. How could he be so nervous about the freaking diner? "You know, I'm starved. How 'bout we go to the diner? Since you're in charge, you can even have most of my fries."
She was opening the door to her office - "I ate most of your fries before."
She was flipping on her light, speaking again before he could come up with a witty retort. "But yes, that sounds fine. Just let me check my..."
And suddenly she froze, the atmosphere in the room going from light to tense in a heartbeat.
"Dr. Brennan!" Cam's voice called out to them as she appeared and strode quickly into the room. "I had meant to let you know about this. Dr. Benjamin sent all of your things to me."
Brennan's eyes were still locked on her suitcase and other personal items stacked neatly in the middle of her office floor. Booth could have screamed, strangled Cam, punched a wall or done all three. He almost heard the slam as Brennan's walls went back up around her at the visual reminder of her ordeal.
"Thank you, Dr. Saroyan," he heard her say, her tone flat and with none of the spark he had been hearing all day.
Aside from his consternation at Brennan's reaction, Booth was having his own reaction to the sight of her luggage - pure and total panic. But not because of the suitcases themselves: it was the passport, ID, driver's license, car keys and other items that he wanted to dive on and shove in his pocket before she could get to them. His own reaction made him feel somewhat guilty - hadn't he just promised her control? And now he was acting like he wanted to keep her locked up like a prisoner. But without those items, even if she wanted to run from him she couldn't get very far. Now, if he so much as misstepped and she decided to run again, she could go anywhere in the world. The thought scared him to death.
The look on her face wasn't doing anything to calm him, either. Her posture was suddenly stiff and tight, and she barely looked at him as she turned to move to her desk. "Actually, Booth, I think I may stay here and start on my part of the paperwork. I'm exhausted." She hesitated before meeting his eyes in a look that just screamed stay over there. "It was agreeable to work with you again."
Agreeable? Agreeable?
And he had just given her control, and couldn't say one thing about her decision. Annoyingly, Sweets' voice telling him that this situation had the potential to be extremely frustrating for him popped into his head. Mentally poking his inner Sweets in the eye made him feel slightly better, but not very much.
He wasn't sure what to say about her last statement, so he softly responded to the part before it, keeping his promise to both of them not to push her. "All right, Bones. I'll see you tomorrow."
And he damn well would, case or not. If there wasn't a piece of paperwork on this case that required her signature, he was sure as hell going to draw one up. Exactly what the Bureau needed - more standardized forms.
He was in her doorway on his way out when he realized that he just couldn't do it. Stopping and leaning against the doorframe, he closed his eyes and didn't turn around to look at her. Quietly, he said the words that he wouldn't sleep that night if he didn't get out, feeling her eyes burning into his back. "In case you're wondering, Bones, I still mean every word I said to you. I love you. And I can't just pretend I never said it, even if you can. So you can play this how you need to, but that's not going to change. I gave you control, and I'm not taking it back…but I wish more than anything that you wouldn't use it to shut me out."
Without ever turning to look at her, he quietly strode from her office, making his way back to his own lonely office to do paperwork alone long into the night.
ooo … ooo … ooo
Two hours after Booth left, Brennan sat at her desk trying to focus on her portion of the paperwork for the case they had just completed. Despite herself, her eyes kept being drawn to the luggage in the middle of the room. Like clockwork, every time she focused on the luggage, her eyes would immediately be drawn to the door.
For a few short hours, life had seemed somewhat normal. It hadn't started that way, at all. The trip to the crime scene with Booth had been uncomfortable, awkward, and all of the other things she had been trying to avoid in the first place. But it had still come as a shock when she called him with the identification and he seemed not to want her to go with him to make the arrest. It had also come as a shock just how much that affected her. Pushing Booth away, as she had been doing, was not something she relished: it was simply necessary to protect them both. Him pushing her away, however, was the exact opposite of what she had hoped to accomplish - and it frightened her. Their working partnership and friendship were what she was trying to preserve. She just didn't know how to go about it.
And so she had struggled to come up with the first believable reason she could think of for her presence to be required. His accident had been very prominent in her mind since she had learned of it, so it wasn't so surprising that it was the first thing she thought of.
Oddly, it was the sarcasm in his voice when he responded to her (admittedly) poor excuse for going with him - 'That's great, Bones' - that put the first real smile on her face all day. It had sounded so…normal. Instead of tiptoeing around her, he sounded much like he did when they would argue about religion, sex, or any of another 100 topics. She hadn't goaded him on purpose - at least not this time - but there was something so satisfying about putting that tone into his voice: something that made her feel like herself. And all of a sudden she wanted to do it again.
So when she realized in the car that he wasn't listening to a word she was saying about the case, the completely panicked look on his face when she called him on it ignited a spark in her and made her want to take a chance to restore their interactions to something approaching normalcy. It had felt so good to laugh with Angela the night before. More than anything, she wanted to attempt the same with Booth. And that look on his face was certainly humorous. Perhaps he would be receptive to her efforts.
It had seemed awkward at first when she made a comment that seemed like one she would normally make - right up until the moment he responded in a way that was completely normal. She had barely been able to keep the smile from her face, as she was temporarily able to forget all of the problems between them and relax into the comfort of having her partner and friend back.
It had not exactly been effortless, but they had fallen easily enough into their banter, and had worked together as a team to complete the case. It was what she had hoped for when she left for work that morning. So when Booth asked her to accompany him to the diner at the end of the day, she was initially eager to accept his invitation. It was what they did together, and that was what she wanted back.
And then Albania had dropped back onto her with a resounding thud.
There sat her luggage - luggage she had packed in hopes of authenticating an exciting find and exploring a country she had never visited; luggage she had left in a hotel room she believed she was coming back to, utterly oblivious to what was about to happen to her.
Her heartrate had increased, and there was that trapped feeling again, filling her with nervous anxiety about having Booth so close - about having anybody so close, especially between her and the door. Suddenly, the idea of going with him to the diner was more than she could face. She needed some space. She just needed some space, and she could work with him the next day, and they could fall back into their normal pattern again.
But then he had to go and do it - had to say what she had been trying to forget all day.
He had to remind her that he loved her.
There had been a couple of close calls in the car that had almost made her falter: when he had winked at her and told her in that low, gravelly voice that he had definitely been distracted, she had felt the warmth rise up her cheeks from her neck. There was no questioning what he meant - he was implying that he found her distracting, most likely in a sexual manner. The only question was, when her decision was firmly made, why did his obvious flirtation produce what Angela would undoubtedly refer to as 'butterflies' in her abdomen? She had recovered quickly, returning their banter back to the safe level it had been at previously. She wasn't willing to give that up so easily after only just having regained it.
But then when he told her that she was completely in control and could go as fast or slow as she wanted, she was almost entirely certain he was alluding to more than driving his car; when he told her that he was giving her control for as long as she needed, she had been sure of it. The gesture was one that she found strangely touching and comforting all at the same time. It had been a full five minutes before she trusted her voice to say something, and even then a quiet thank you, though woefully inadequate, was all she could manage. For the first time, it felt as though Booth understood what she was experiencing.
Even that loaded moment had passed, however, and allowed her to continue her banter with him.
But how was she supposed to ignore what he said at the door as he left? It left her no escape clause whatsoever. He loved her. He wasn't going to pretend he didn't. He said it wasn't going to change no matter what she did, and by the determined set of his shoulders she suspected he meant that.
And for some reason, she had been watching that damn door ever since.
With a frustrated sigh, she lowered her eyes to her paperwork, rifling through it, pretending she didn't know what she was looking for.
She could save it until tomorrow. She should save it until tomorrow. Booth had likely gone home anyway. He certainly needed the sleep. Angela was certainly waiting for her at home.
But the file couldn't be completed until she had his signature.
Before she could think about it, she dug through the items in her office and located her wallet and her car keys. She would take a cab home, get her car, and then she would go to the Hoover building. He likely wasn't there anyway. She would just leave the form for him, and he could send it back to her tomorrow.
ooo … ooo … ooo
Booth sat at his desk, papers spread out all around him. But he wasn't working, at least not on paperwork.
He was completely immersed in the literature he had gone straight to Sweets' office and asked him about after leaving Bones at the Jeffersonian, much to the psychologist's shock. He hadn't actually expected Booth to want the pamphlets he had offered about PTSD and Rape Trauma Syndrome; clearly, he had underestimated the man again.
Booth had also not expected to engage in so much research. He knew Bones, after all, and had faith in his own ability to know how to handle her. But seeing that trapped, panicked look reappear on her face at the sight of her luggage, even after seeming so normal for a few hours prior to that, was a wake up call for him. Everything was not normal, nor was it suddenly going to be, and he was finally beginning to realize that he was in way over his head. If he kept trying to walk the tightrope without knowing what he was doing, he was bound to fall and hurt them both. He might lose her forever; but even more frightening, she might lose herself.
What was surprising as he delved into the material was exactly how right Sweets had been. She was behaving much like a rape survivor. He had limited knowledge of such matters thanks to FBI training, but had never studied it in depth - especially not long-term recovery. He knew more about immediate reactions as they would pertain to questioning.
Of special interest to Booth was the material written specifically for spouses or romantic partners. He devoured every word, sometimes cringing at his own stupidity and other times being surprised that he had said or done exactly the right thing without even realizing it.
When he had read everything Sweets gave him, he turned to the Internet, searching out more information designed specifically for romantic partners, jotting down anything he found of note.
It never even crossed his mind that she might appear in his office, and he was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't even hear her approach until she was only a few steps from his desk.
"What's this?"
He almost jumped out of his skin, his face draining of all color when he saw the look on her face - something on his desk had caught her eye, and he had a horrible feeling he knew what it was.
"Bones! What are you doing here? I..." He made a grab for the colorful stack of brochures, intending to stick them all in his lap or shove them surreptitiously in a drawer, but his reaction was too delayed and she was too fast for him. Three of them were in her hands before he could blink.
"Rape Trauma Syndrome? What Not to Say to a Rape Victim? Dealing with the Rape of Your Spouse?"
"Bones."
She was so livid she was shaking. "What the hell are you doing, Booth?" she hissed.
"Bones, just listen to me for a minute." He kept his gaze steady and his tone even, despite the fact that he was in a total panic.
She was having none of it. He had never seen her so furious. "I wasn't raped, Booth. And we are not married. We are not going to be married."
"I know that, Bones. You weren't supposed to see this. Will you just calm down and let me talk to you?"
She slapped the pages back down on his desk, hard. "Calm down? Is that what I'm supposed to do, Booth? Is that what your research says?" She was out of control already, and when he just sat looking at her quietly rather than yelling back at her, it only infuriated her more.
Dropping her eyes to his desk, a sheet of plain white printer paper with Booth's distinctive handwriting on it caught her eye - the fruits of his Internet research. Reaching out and grabbing it, her eyes grew wide as she scanned down the page, picking out a couple of items to read out loud: "Let her know exactly how you're going to touch her and when? Continually talk to her and reassure her during intimate..."
She got no farther before he reached out and snatched the paper from her hand. He was standing now, the desk still between them, his eyes squeezed shut. The hand holding the paper went to rest on his hip, while his other hand rubbed at the back of his very bright red neck. "It's not for right now, okay, Bones? I'm not expecting... will you please just let me explain?"
It felt like the walls were closing in on her, and she had to get out of there right then. "I don't care. I just needed you to sign this form. I'll leave it for you, and you can messenger it over tomorrow."
She was storming for the door, and he had to stop her. "Bones, listen to me..."
In a flash, she whirled back around at him. "I'm not a helpless victim, Booth, and I don't want to be treated like one. Nothing happened to me. I'm fine."
He had made his way around his desk, and was only a few steps away from her when he saw her stiffen. Stopping his forward progress immediately, he tried to make her understand. "You're not fine, Bones. And you know it. We both know it every time I come toward you and you flinch…like just now. I know you're not a helpless victim, and I'm not trying to treat you like one. But sometimes it feels like..."
He hesitated, but she cut him no slack whatsoever. Taking an angry step toward him, she jutted her chin out, daring him. "It feels like what?"
His eyes searched the ceiling for help, and after a moment he clicked his tongue against his teeth with a bitter bark, a sound that distinctively said he knew what he was about to say was going to get him in trouble and he no longer cared. "Like you're not just a victim, but like you're my victim. It feels like I did this to you, Bones."
Insecurity flashed across her face, instantly suspicious. "So that's what this is all about?" she asked, gesturing toward the papers on his desk. "You just want to fix what you think you've broken?"
"NO!" He was yelling by now, but couldn't bring himself to stop. It was all he could do not to grab her by the arms and push her against the door to just make her shut up and listen to him. Modulating his voice was just too much to ask. Apparently, so was thinking through what he was saying.
Every bit of the frustration and rage he had felt in the diner dropped back on his head, only this time without Angela's quieting influence there to calm him down. There was just an infuriating woman who could push him over the edge so fast that it was fucking scary.
"Goddamnit, Bones, why do you have to twist everything I say? I'm doing this because I love you. I'm doing this because I don't know how to convince you that all I need is for you to just admit you love me back. I'm doing this because it kills me that you're pretending not to love me, just because you suddenly seem to think I'm not capable of keeping it in my pants when I damn well know neither of us are ready!"
The words were through his brain and out of his mouth almost before he realized it. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open, and when she turned and walked away without another word he didn't dare follow.
What the hell had he just done? And how could she shoot his good intentions all to hell without even trying, making him self-destruct every single damn time?
It was only as he sank back down in his desk chair that he realized he still didn't know why she had come to his office to begin with.
What had made her seek him out? Because it sure as hell wasn't that she wanted him to sign that form.
ooo … ooo … ooo
As she drove back to the Jeffersonian, Brennan's mind raced. Booth had certainly given her plenty to think about.
She wasn't sure why it had upset her so very badly when she realized what Booth was reading. Maybe it was because it was so important to her that Booth not see her as a victim. Maybe it was the automatic assumption on his part that it was up to him to 'help' her, when she had made it clear that she intended their relationship to be partners and friends only. Maybe it was the complete sense of powerlessness that again flooded her at the insinuation that she was a rape victim.
Whatever the reason, it had filled her with so much rage that she hadn't even given him a chance to explain. But he had asked her several times to let him explain what was going on. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like. Perhaps there was a logical reason and she had simply overreacted.
That wasn't what preoccupied the majority of her thoughts, however.
Booth's revelation that he knew she was intentionally lying about not having feelings for him was what had sent her running for the door. That he knew it had something to do with sex and her inability to be near him without feeling fear was completely mortifying. It had thrown her off balance, almost as much as his next statement: Booth wasn't ready for a sexual relationship between them either? Why not?
Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she made her way into her office and began gathering up her luggage and belongings to take home. It took two trips to her car, but she finally had everything loaded. The physical activity gave her something to focus on, giving her an idea. For the first time, she felt up to going to the gym. Perhaps physical exercise would help to clear her mind so that she could decide what to do next.
Some part of her wondered if she should call Booth and apologize, while part of her still wanted to call and yell at him some more. It was that very conflicted feeling that helped her make the decision to log some time at the gym before going home for the night to deal with Angela and her questions. Having a plan always left her feeling more in control, and she would be able to think more clearly if she got her heartrate up.
Ooo … ooo … ooo
Not much time passed before Booth realized that he could not let the night pass without apologizing. While what he said was true, he had said it in the wrong way. He needed to do damage control, and he needed to do it right then. He needed to explain things clearly to her. He also needed to do it face to face, so he didn't bother trying to call her.
He started first at her apartment, noticing instantly that her car was not there - it had never moved since before she left for Albania, and now it was gone. A tight fist of fear began to squeeze his heart. A quick call up to the apartment and speaking with Angela confirmed to him that not only was Bones not home, Angela hadn't even known that she had her car. She must have taken a cab home and picked up her car without going inside.
He broke every speed limit law and several other traffic laws getting back to her office, absolutely terrified that he would find exactly what he did find when he entered her office. All of the luggage was gone - every bit of it; which meant that she also had her passport, ID, credit cards, and everything else she would need to disappear permanently. She also wasn't picking up her cell phone.
He was sick with fear when he called Angela back, praying that she would tell him Brennan had showed up since he left. Of course, she hadn't.
Ooo … ooo … ooo
An hour later, after driving around aimlessly trying to figure out where he should start or if he should even start, Booth finally picked up his phone the fourth time Angela called him, letting her talk him into coming to Brennan's apartment so they could figure out together what to do. He could tell she was worried about him, and so he relented.
His heart almost stopped when he saw Brennan's car parked in its normal spot, wondering why Angela hadn't called him. Even as he told himself that she probably just brought it back there and took a cab so he couldn't put out an A.P.B. on her car, he still found himself sprinting across the parking lot and up her stairs.
He burst out of her stairwell into her hallway, just in time to find her also standing in the hallway and putting her key in the lock to enter her apartment. Her suitcases sat on the floor behind her, where she had dropped them to open the door, and she was dressed in gym clothes with her hair in a ponytail. He wanted to weep with relief when he realized that she hadn't run.
The sudden appearance of someone crashing through the stairwell door startled her, and she spun around ready to defend herself. She immediately noticed his red-rimmed eyes, her heartrate picking up. "Booth?"
"Bones! I..." Everything hit him all at once, and he couldn't say any more. All of the emotions of the entire past week, the ups and the downs and the goddamn terror of feeling three separate times like she was gone forever, and now she was going to probably kick his ass for showing up at her apartment after the way he had talked to her earlier. He shoved his hands in his pockets and bit his lip, looking upwards, sideways, anywhere but at her as he felt the tears pricking at his eyelids. He was about to break down and cry in the middle of her hallway, and for the life of him he didn't know why. He couldn't even remember what he had wanted to say to her when he first started looking for her.
Someone was speaking, and it was him - but he wasn't saying what he really wanted to say. All of the things he needed so badly to tell her about what he had really meant in his office were not what was coming out of his mouth.
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, Bones - for yelling at you earlier. I wasn't trying to upset you. I just...I'll just see you tomorrow."
His back was barely turned when she called out to him. ""Booth, wait!"
He turned to see her walking toward him, her eyes glued on his face. As she managed to do once in a blue moon, and only ever with him, her attempt to decipher his expression was a home run.
"You thought I left again."
Unable to trust his voice, he just nodded, hoping he could hold the tears back just a little longer.
She stopped just a single step from him. "And you were going to look for me? Again? You were still going to try to find me?" She was searching his eyes so intently that even in his current state he could see how crucial that question was - how important that he answer correctly.
He had no idea what the correct answer was. All he had to offer was the truth, so he gave it to her, even though he suspected that this particular truth might be the final nail in his coffin. At least she was already packed, so that would save her some trouble.
"Yes, Bones. I was going to look for you." His eyes slipped shut to stem the flow of the tears he knew were about to fall when he saw the amazement in her eyes. How could she not know how valuable she was to him? How could she not know how valuable she was in general? How many different assholes had hurt her in her life to make her believe she wasn't worth chasing? "I'd follow you to the ends of the earth," he admitted, never opening his eyes. "I already have. I'd do it as many times as it takes."
Forcing his eyes open, he could read nothing from the sea of blue staring back at him. When she didn't ask any more questions but only continued staring at him as though she were trying to solve the mysteries of the universe just by looking into his eyes, he finally cracked under the weight of her gaze. "I'm sorry, Bones. I didn't mean to bother you tonight. See you tomorrow."
ooo … ooo … ooo
Anxiety suddenly flowed through Brennan when Booth turned to leave. Only one night before, he had fallen asleep at the wheel, and she now knew that he must have spent at least the last couple of hours since she left his office looking for her. The thought of him getting back behind the wheel at such a late hour, especially seeing his red, exhausted eyes, was enough to send a shudder through her. It was enough to make her act.
His back wasn't even turned before a small but strong hand closed on his forearm just below his elbow. "No - stay. Please."
TO BE CONTINUED…