Author's note: Here is a new story for you all that I have been working on. It's set immediately after the events of the season 5 episode 'The Boy with the Answer'. I wanted to explore what might have happened if the circumstances surrounding Brennan's decision about going to Maluku had been slightly different. I am aware that Maluku isn't mentioned until the episode after the one that I have set this story around, but it is inferred that Brennan had known about it for a while so I have used that to facilitate this story. The first few chapters are angst filled but without wanting to spoil the story, that will change eventually to more of a romantic and potentially smutty nature, hence the 'M' rating.
I have most of the story written and it is looking like it will end up being about 6 or 7 chapters long. As with my previous few stories, I plan to post one chapter a week.
As always, it would make me really happy if you could take the time to leave a review and let me know what you think. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.
The taxi pulled away and Temperance Brennan turned to look through the rear window, the rain running down the glass in thick rivulets. She watched as Seeley Booth receded into the distance, his figure getting smaller, still fixed to the spot on the pavement, watching her, waiting until she was out of sight.
Brennan was feeling overwhelmed. The last few days had been some of the most difficult she had ever faced. The race against time to find the evidence they needed to convict Heather 'The Gravedigger' Taffet of the abduction and murder of Terence Gilroy, had left Brennan feeling emotionally and physically drained. Getting a conviction had relied almost entirely on the evidence she had discovered and for a while, she worried that she wouldn't be able to find it in time. The relief she felt when she found the evidence and then when Taffet was found guilty was profound, but it had come at a cost for Brennan. She was emotionally drained, and she couldn't remember the last time she had felt so tired. Tired of all the murders and evil, the sadness and pain. She loved working with Booth, but lately she wondered if it was working with him and not the work itself that she loved.
She didn't believe in the dogmatic principle behind Booth's cosmic balance sheet, but she had always taken a great deal of satisfaction in helping him solve murders and bringing the perpetrators to justice. But when she first decided to pursue a career in forensic anthropology all those years ago, she never imagined that this is where she would be or what she would end up doing. She had somehow got caught up in it and she wondered if her feelings for her partner had been clouding her judgement all along.
The headlights of a car that had turned onto the road behind them swept across the rear-view window, momentarily dazzling Brennan, making her blink. She'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't realised she had still been staring, unseeing, out that back window, that they had left Booth behind long ago. She stiffly turned in her seat to face back front and rubbed a hand over her brow, massaging her temples, trying to soothe the growing ache behind them. She felt restless. She could feel her emotions bubbling under the surface, refusing to be contained by the internal walls that she had spent so many years constructing and perfecting. The structure of those walls had never been more fragile or permeable and she knew exactly why. Booth. That was why. Over the course of the six years they had known each other, he had been gradually chipping away at them, leaving gaps in her defences, exposing her vulnerabilities.
Booth guided her, gave her strength, but he had also unintentionally made her weak. She had always been so fiercely independent and now she wondered when exactly she had begun to rely on him so absolutely. With his affection and patience, Booth had managed to bring out a side of her that she had tried to hide away and had almost made disappear completely. She had been tamping down and hiding her emotions since she was fifteen years old when her parents abandoned her. She quickly learnt in the foster system that allowing emotions to guide you only lead to more pain. Allowing her life to be lead by reason and logic in the subsequent years had served her well and had brought her great success in her career. But when she met Booth, she began to rediscover her emotional side. She wasn't as emotionless or unfeeling as people thought. Her emotions had always been there, she was just highly adept at keeping them hidden away under the surface, behind those walls, not allowing herself to feel them.
Booth was the only person she had met in her adult life that made her want to feel, made her realise that forming deep emotional bonds can be fulfilling. Her inexperience had meant he'd had to guide her, show her how to behave, and now, if she were ever to be without him, she wasn't sure if she would survive, if she would ever manage to rebuild those walls or if she would be crushed by the weight of the deluge of emotion she had been holding back for all these years and didn't know how to handle.
That was why she turned him down that night a few weeks ago on the steps of the Hoover. She needed him. He had become an integral part of her life, gradually working his way into every facet of it and she just couldn't risk losing what they have by changing the nature of their relationship. She had feelings for him that she could neither name nor acknowledge but that didn't alter the fact that she couldn't be what he needed her to be. He needed someone to love him, someone who knew how. The differences between them were numerous and she believed a romantic relationship between them was doomed to fail and that was an unacceptable scenario for Brennan. She couldn't lose him. If she were to take the risk and try, she knew there would come a point where he might realise what a mistake he had made and cause the exact thing she was trying to avoid. No, she just couldn't take that chance. The risk was too great, the variables unknown, which was unacceptable to her scientist's brain.
She sighed as she wiped a stray tear from the inner corner of her eye, unsure as to what had provoked its appearance. Was it the stress of the case? Or was it thinking about Booth and what they could have had if only she were stronger or more courageous? She couldn't deny that what she felt for Booth was more than friendship, but she was unable to rationalise her feelings for him and it terrified her.
The taxi arrived at Brennan's apartment building. She paid the driver then slowly made her way inside. There was significant discord between her mind and her body. Her thoughts felt heavy, leaden, making her steps slow. But her body, despite her weariness, felt wired.
She opened the apartment door and flicked on the lights before tossing her keys onto the kitchen counter. Flopping heavily onto the couch, she immediately felt restless, unsure of what to do now. There was no way she would be able to sleep feeling like this so going to bed was pointless. Ordinarily when she felt restless or stressed, she would go back to the lab, but uncharacteristically, she couldn't face the lab right now. She wanted to think about something other than death and the lab was full to the brim with exactly that. She rose from the couch and began to pace, her footsteps getting quicker, the nervous energy in her limbs winning the battle between body and mind.
She had too much residual adrenaline in her system from the stress of the last 24 hours. The muscles in her arms and legs felt tight and her stomach was like a hard knot in her abdomen. She needed to do something to burn off the excess adrenaline that was making her feel this way. She glanced at the clock on the wall in the kitchen to check the time and suddenly stopped, finding herself standing staring at the timepiece that had been a Christmas gift from Booth, not really registering the time shown by the hands. The clock was round and small – only 6 inches in diameter and made from terracotta. In the centre, a bunch of daffodils – her favourite flower, had been intricately painted along with the numbers around the edges in delicate script. Booth's gifts to her were never large or extravagant, but they were always meaningful, and she treasured each gift he had ever given her.
Feeling a lump begin to form in her throat as she stared at the token of her partner's affection, Brennan shook her head and dropped her gaze to the floor. He knew her too well. Her chest felt tight as unbidden, vivid mental images of how his face had looked the night she had rejected him appeared in her mind. He said he knew, right from the beginning. She hadn't understood that night what that meant, or the significance of it, but she understood now. He loved her. He hadn't explicitly said the words, but she knew.
Irrationally, she wished she could go back in time and refuse to work with him that first time he asked. Despite their altercation at the end of that case, he had sought her out again and the friendship that had formed between them was deep and fathomless. She had never had that with anyone before, ever. Yet, she still would wish it away if she could because it seemed she only ever brought him pain.
The familiar, overwhelming urge to flee was beginning to consume her, urging her into action like a fire in her veins and leaving was the only way to douse the flames. Her eyes drifted up from the floor, finally landing on the edge of a letter, peeking out from under a pile of other mail. She had hastily shoved the letter there earlier that day so Booth wouldn't see what it contained. It was an invitation from the organising committee for the Maluku Islands Project. An invitation for Brennan to lead the dig. The full set of interspecies hominid remains that had been discovered there could be a crucial link in the evolutionary chain and to be the one invited to lead the research was a privilege and an honour, and also the perfect opportunity to escape all the murder that had taken precedence in her life recently. Her first instinct was to accept, but something had stopped her from replying right away. She knew exactly what, or who that was. But now, it felt like all the evil and pain she had dealt with over the past few years was converging on her all at once and she needed to escape. She had to. For her own sanity.
She snatched up the letter from the pile of mail and pulled her laptop from her bag. She opened the lid and quickly typed an email to the head of the organising committee, accepting their invitation. Her finger hovered over the key to send the email but somehow, she couldn't bring herself to send it. Not while her thoughts were so disorganised and irrational. She saved the email to the drafts folder then looked back at the clock on the wall. It was late, almost 10.30pm. She needed to do something physical, burn off the adrenaline and the nervous energy, and hopefully recover her sense of rationality. Going for a swim was out of the question because it would only remind her of Booth and their sessions at the pool with Parker. She didn't want to think about Booth, she needed to clear her head. Instead, she decided to go for a run. She knew it was foolish to run at night and if Booth found out, he would be mad that she hadn't given any consideration to her safety, but she needed to do something, and this seemed to be her only option.
After changing into her running gear, scooping her hair into a ponytail, and lacing on her sneakers, she returned to her closet and knelt on the floor to pull out the shoe box that was stashed in the corner. She rummaged through the box until she found the small can of pepper spray which she tucked into the pocket of her jacket. She contemplated taking the large pistol that was also contained in the box but decided it was just too big and cumbersome to run with. She then replaced the lid on the box and put it back in its place.
She stopped abruptly as she strode through the apartment, stopping next to the counter where her laptop sat, the draft email still on the screen. Her hand slowly crept up from her side, hovering over the keyboard. She curled her fingers into a fist and withdrew her hand, closing her eyes and taking a breath. You wanted to clear your head first, remember? She reminded herself. She closed the lid on the computer, zipped her keys and her phone into the pocket of her jacket that didn't contain the pepper spray and headed for the door.