Monday morning

Brennan's apartment

Softly, Brennan closed the door behind her. Booth and Brennan stood hesitantly in the doorway. She had so desperately wanted to escape the hospital's bright lights and the seemingly endless intrusions into her personal space that now finally home, she felt unexpectedly untethered. She threw Booth a look of uncertainty. It was a relief to be able to hide her bruised face from the world's prying eyes. It perturbed her, however, that her self-consciousness didn't extend to Booth. She couldn't comprehend the warm security his presence kindled.

The apartment had been unoccupied for days and its emptiness screamed at her. Time had stood still here and yet the world had changed significantly in her absence; the juxtaposition of familiarity and foreignness filled her with an inexplicable unease.

'Hey, let's get you settled, huh? Back to bed, doctor's orders, chop, chop.' Booth's deep, cheery voice broke through the eerie atmosphere. Brennan's quick, consenting smile hid her disquiet. It had been a slow walk from the car to her apartment; Booth didn't comment or rush her. She was breathless now and she didn't resist his gentle nudging towards her bedroom. He helped settle her into bed, removing her coat and shoes, and propped pillows up behind her. Angela had dropped off clothes for her at the hospital – skirts and blouses. Despite the anxious infernos they ignited in him he outwardly ignored her winces; she was thankful for his silence. Discretely, he placed the hospital-provided, ring-shaped pillow on the bed.

'Booth?' she asked once they were settled - she cosied under a blanket - and Booth had made them both tea; he sat in an armchair in her room, in which she normally enjoyed reading her journals. 'Why hasn't Hannah called?'

Booth nearly spat out his hot tea. This was unexpected.

'Angela has called, Cam sent me flowers – though I fail to understand how flowers will aid the healing of bones - it seems strange that Hannah hasn't tried to contact me at all. We are still friends, aren't we?' she frowned, tilting her head. She was suddenly filled with anxiety: it hadn't previously occurred to her that maybe he had told Hannah about her humiliating admission.

'We don't have to talk about Hannah.' Booth tensed his shoulders; a warning bell sounded.

'Yes, we do,' she insisted. 'You're staying with me for a few days.' Booth looked up – a few days, is that all? 'Is she okay with that? It seems strange to me that your sexual partner would be happy with you not being at home with her, in another woman's home, in fact. It would be…foolish of me not to expect you to give her at least some of the details of…what happened, I have to respect that,' she probed.

God, he couldn't let her go on thinking that Hannah knew about the assault and was ignoring her because she was angry that she'd taken him from her!

'I'm sorry she hasn't called, I know you two were friends,' he said carefully.

'Were?'

'She left on Sunday morning. For Iran. She has a detail there for six months,' he sighed. 'We're over.'

'Oh.'

'I guess she didn't know what to say.'

'No, I understand.' Helplessly, she tried to read him. 'How are you, Booth?' she enquired hesitantly. This wasn't in the script. Just days ago, he had told her that he couldn't be with her because of Hannah. He had seemed certain of the love in their relationship, and she had relinquished her claim on him as a result.

'Look, I'm fine.' He stood up and paced. 'I was going to…I mean…I had to make a choice,' he looked at her miserably. 'She saved me from having to make it.'

'I'm not the consolation prize am I, Booth?' replied Brennan, appalled. Booth's words had haunted her. She had understood them to be literal: he loved Hannah and no longer loved her.

"No, no, Bones, you got it all wrong.' The discussion was freewheeling away from him. 'You, I was going to choose you. I just didn't know how to and then this…I love Hannah, I do, but I…' he stuttered.

Suddenly, they were in a conversation for which neither of them was prepared.

'Look, this isn't the time. You're injured.' Booth tried to put the brakes on.

'I'm not broken, Booth,' there was a warning tone to her voice. Booth felt relieved at the hint of anger. It was the first sign of emotion other than frustration he'd witnessed from her in days.

'I know that,' he placated. 'Don't you think we need some time? For things to just…calm down?'

Booth had read the information on Rape Trauma Syndrome, it helped to refresh his memory - he had received training in his early FBI days, but his current role didn't deal directly with trauma recovery. In typical Brennan fashion, she seemed to have skipped the Acute stage of recovery and jumped right to the Undercover Phase where denial and insistence on normality were common features.

He looked at her more closely now. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing shallow. Brennan didn't know what to think – was Booth now available? Would that even work? A few days ago, she had bravely looked regret in the eye and it had been too late. She'd since tried to suppress her rejected feelings, but now with the shackle of Hannah removed, they reared up violently, tossing her around like a dingy in a storm. As she gawked at Booth, love and desire for him overwhelmed her. And anger. An uncontrollable, irrational surge. A rocket went off inside her.

'I know you want me to talk about what happened to me. But I can't, Booth, okay!' she shouted. 'I don't remember. How can I talk about something that I don't remember? And is that why you would choose me now… because…because…you feel sorry for me?' she seethed furiously, her non-plastered hand clenching in and out of a fist, twisting the sheets.

Booth stared at her dumbfounded. 'What? No, of course not!' He had been so gentle with her since he found her in the alley, had let her set the pace of what she wanted to talk about and when. Without question, he had respected her right to her privacy and that the trauma was hers to manage as she saw fit, but witnessing her clinical detachment was exhausting. He had been waiting for the explosion to come but it hadn't happened how he had anticipated. It was a complete shock that she would attack him for choosing her. Confronted with her infectious anger, he could no longer restrain all the emotion he'd been battling to control for the last few days.

'You might not remember anything, but I do. I do!' he cried. 'I found you remember. You called me. I thought, God, I don't know, I thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere. I thought you might die, Bones!' he shouted passionately, aware of the ridiculousness of his words.

She looked at him in shock. Brennan may have eventually perceived his devastation but, because she steadfastly refused to imagine the scenario of the assault, she had failed to empathise with his experience of it.

'Don't tell me I pity you, Bones,' he continued. 'I'm terrified! Terrified of how this is going to affect you. What this means for us. You were raped, Bones!' There, he'd said it; it couldn't be unsaid. They starred at each other, panting. The indisputable words hung thickly in the air.

Feeling the fight begin to deflate she whispered through shaky, gritted teeth: 'I won't be a victim, Booth.' She crossed her arms across her abused torso, not before a hand absent-mindedly caressed her black eye. 'But that's what you see now, isn't it?'

'God, no, Bones,' he moaned desperately. He knelt on the floor beside her bed. 'No, it isn't. But it happened and you can't keep pretending it didn't.'

'I'm not-'

'Yes, you are,' he insisted tearfully. 'And I know, I can't tell you what to do, what to feel. I just need you to know that I'm here. Because it's us. You and me. It's been us for years, hasn't it?' he begged. He lay his head on the bed. Brennan still vibrated with tremors of fury, but she began to relent at the tear-jerking sight of him kneeled beside her. Tenderly, she laid her hand on his hair. 'Hannah. She said I was never really hers,' he whispered. Slowly, she stroked his head, her movements calmly saying a thousand words. They remained silently in that position for some time, each relishing the proximity of the other.

'I can't talk about it, Booth, I just can't,' she finally admitted softly. She couldn't adequately express her lack of comprehension at what she had been told had happened to her; how her insides stung; that she simply couldn't grasp that the invasive stitching was because three men had violated her.

Booth understood the enormity of the confession for her. After a while he said: 'We'll do it your way, Bones. We can be as normal as you like.'

Wow, it's hard to let go of chapters! I know I could keep working on this but I'm further ahead in the story and need to move on from this section. Hope it's being enjoyed. Reviews gratefully received!