A/N: So last night's episode was kind of lame. But the way I see it, Hannah doesn't deserve the vitriol - it's all Booth. In fact, I think Hannah deserves her own chapter.

Hannah's POV

I sat at the kitchen table, hands folded on top of a manila folder. I waited for Seeley to come home.

I knew what I was going to see on his face when he walked through that door: heartbreak. There would be guilt, too, either way. Seeley was a good man, a responsible man, and he would feel responsible for whatever happened.

Last night I had stayed awake, watching him as he slept. Maybe if we had made love I would have known if he would come back to me. But his back was hurting, and his heart, and it would've been taking advantage.

So I watched him instead, contemplating the radical changes I had made for this man. I had left my wild pursuits, settled down in a nine-to-five job, and suddenly, breathlessly, believed in fairytales. Before I would never have contemplated dating a man with children. Before I would have laughed at the idea of ironing my clothes and cooking in anything more than a kitchenette. And this man, this man, was worth it. When I fell into his arms I was twice as strong, and yet he didn't hold me there, he let me fly.

I heard his key in the lock and my heart leapt into my throat. The door opened. It took a moment for his footfalls to lead him around the corner, to where I sat.

Come hold me, I thought, if you come hold me, everything will be okay.

He came around the door. His face was cast in sadness, like I knew it would be.

But he didn't come hold me. He stayed in the doorway, broad shoulders slumped.

My throat tightened and tears threatened.

"You stopped her, didn't you," I said.

"How did you – how did you know?" he asked, bewildered.

I rested my hands on top of the manila folder in front of me. "Dr. Brennan told me," I said.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"I knew where she was going," I said. "She came to my office yesterday and gave me this."

He strode to the kitchen table and opened the manila folder. Inside he would find the medical file of Thomas Kavhutema, a few newspaper clippings, and the research I had already completed on the Hemofree blood substitute trials in Zimbabwe.

"I don't – what is this?" he asked.

"It's the case Dr. Brennan was working on," I answered. My voice was incredibly calm, collected. Just like I was on camera, reporting the death of another soldier in Afghanistan. "She told me she was going to investigate the Hemofree trials in Zimbabwe. She doubted she would be able to solve the case in any official way, so she was trusting me to write the exposé."

"Zimbabwe," he hissed. Then, "You knew? You knew she was leaving?"

His anger made it easier for me. "She swore me to secrecy, Seeley," I said firmly. "It would have violated my code of ethics as a journalist to tell you."

"Yeah, what about the ethics of living with someone?" he said. "You know it would kill me if she just left like that."

I folded my arms and leaned back in my chair. "If you want a reason to kick me out, just ask me, Seeley," I said.

He sighed and let the folder slide from his hands to the table. That confirmed it. For a moment it felt like the floor collapsed beneath me. I felt the pressure of tears behind my eyes.

"Never mind, you don't need a reason," I said, voice shaking. "I'm flying to Zimbabwe tomorrow."

"What?" he snapped. "No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?" I challenged, sticking out my chin.

"Because Zimbabwe is basically a warzone," he said. "Hell – they only recently allowed journalists back in."

"You have no right to stop me, Seeley," I said.

"Hey – I would've stopped you whether we were together or not," he said. "It's too goddamn dangerous."

Whether we were together or not. This was real.

"And I would've gone anyway, Booth," I said angrily. "I'm not your woman to protect. I never was."

"If Bones went you would've stayed," he said.

I struggled for breath. I should've known he was never mine – he never gave me a nickname. The sound of my heart breaking was deafening in my mind, like the popping of guns in Kabul. "You're right. If Dr. Brennan was gone, I'd still be here. I guess you could only ever have one of us." I stood up. "I have to pack." I brushed past him, towards the bedroom.

"You really wouldn't have told me?" he asked softly.

I paused, swallowed back the tears. "What about all the things you haven't told me, lately, Seeley?"

It was the most graceful exit I could hope for.

He was mine for a little while, I thought. But he couldn't hold me. I'm a nomad.

And then it was time to pack my bags again.