Author's Note: I am back! Here again with an unexpected story! A little background about this fic; Over on Facebook on a Bones fan page, a few of us were discussing why we thought Hannah would say no to Booth's proposal of marriage. One of those suggestions inspired this story. The story is angst filled (any of you who have read my fics before will know that most of my stories are angst filled!) and focusses mainly on Booth. However, of course, there is Brennan in there too (after all, it wouldn't be "Bones" without Brennan!) and just a little Hannah. The story is only four chapters but it is complete. Rated T for some language. I hope you all enjoy it and as always, reviews are welcome :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones
"I'm just not the marrying kind."
The heart-shattering words that Hannah Burley had given utterance to the previous evening were reverberating constantly in Seeley Booth's head. Last night, she had broken his heart by refusing his proposal of marriage. It wasn't the first time Booth had had his heart broken and he was certain now that it wouldn't be the last. Because for some reason, women, or specifically, the women he had relationships with, just didn't want to marry him.
Although slightly spur-of-the-moment and unexpected, Booth had thought there was no way Hannah would say no to his proposal. They'd been in a relationship for months and they already lived together for crying out loud. Marriage was just the natural next step, wasn't it? It had been in the back of his mind that she might say no – of course it had. After all, Rebecca, the mother of his child, had said no. That had also been a spur-of-the-moment proposal. But it was different this time. He wasn't proposing because of an unexpected pregnancy like when he'd asked Rebecca. He was proposing because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Hannah – at least, that's what he'd convinced himself. He didn't want to admit that he was avoiding probing too deeply for the reason behind his proposal for fear of what it might reveal.
The scene had been set perfectly. He'd asked Hannah to meet him by the Reflecting Pool at the Lincoln Memorial. The night air had been cool but not so cold that it was uncomfortable. The light from the full moon was shining brightly and reflecting off the water, illuminating the entire area in a soft ethereal glow. It was romantic, it was perfect. He'd bought an outrageously expensive ring. He was wearing his best suit and the expensive cologne that she'd bought for him. He'd booked a table at a fancy restaurant for afterwards with a request for a bottle of champagne to be waiting for them on arrival to celebrate their engagement.
She had looked stunning - as she always did- when she approached him as he anxiously waited for her at their meeting place. He had planned to take his time, maybe walk a little ways around the pool to find the perfect spot. But his nerves had got the better of him and he found the words hastily spilling from his mouth.
He hated how nervous he had sounded, his words a little breathless and desperate. Particularly after he saw the dismay cross his girlfriend's face when he pulled the little black box from his pocket. Undeterred, he finally managed to stop babbling and spoke the most important words.
"Marry me. I want you to be my wife."
Hannah's jaw had dropped open in shock, her mouth working but producing no sounds as her brain scrambled to find the words to salvage the situation. But there had been no way to recover, no way to escape from the damage caused by her rebuttal.
In one fell swoop, she had ended their relationship. She had tried, she had tried to prevent it being the end. She didn't want it to end, but it was too late. He wanted to get married, she didn't. In Hannah's eyes, it didn't have to be the end, but to Booth, it did. In Booth's eyes, the relationship had no future. If they weren't heading towards marriage, where were they heading? He wanted to settle down, have a family. He had thought Hannah was his answer to that. But he had been wrong. She just wanted a good time and Booth needed it to be more than that.
Anything less than that wouldn't be enough. Wouldn't be sufficient to convince him he was happy with how his life had turned out, to distract him from the small but persistent voice in the back of his mind reminding him that, despite affirming to Bones that awful night in the rain that Hannah wasn't a consolation prize, that she absolutely was the consolation prize. That he'd had no choice but to settle for second best.
Now, what did he have? Nothing. He was back at square one. Again. What was wrong with him? What was so awful about him that meant the women who got close to him, who he thought loved him, didn't want him?
So utterly heartbroken and enraged, he had impulsively tossed the ring into the pool and headed straight for the bar, desperate to numb the pain radiating through his chest, to erase the feeling that he was unwanted and unlovable.
He had drunk way too much but it still hadn't helped stop the echoes of the words that had broken his heart. Neither had the alcohol induced coma-like sleep he had just woken from.
He couldn't remember how he had gotten home last night. He remembered being in the Founding Fathers. He remembered Bones trying to console him. Bones. God. He presumed she had helped him get home from the bar because there was no way he would have been in a fit state to manage it himself after drinking nearly a whole bottle of liquor. A wave of guilt crashed over him as he recalled fragments of the conversation he'd had with his partner last night. Had he really told her to leave if she wasn't happy with being just his partner? He thanked God that she had stuck with him instead of leaving like he told her she could. He had treated her badly last night. He knew that. But he didn't have the capacity to feel the appropriate level of remorse about it right then. He was still too mad, too upset, too goddamn heartbroken, to feel anything other than anger and self-pity.
It felt like his eyelids were stuck to his corneas as he slowly managed to peel them open and survey what was in front of him. He wasn't in bed like he expected to be. Instead, he was laid on his couch in the living room, still fully dressed from the night before. He slowly shifted into an upright position as the world spun in a horrendous wave of dizziness. Fighting the urge to vomit, he scrubbed a hand over his face, attempting to rouse himself further. A sudden pain shooting down his spine reminded him that sleeping on the couch always aggravates the abused muscles in his back, no matter how much alcohol he'd consumed. He had never felt worse than he did at that moment, alone and crippled by pain in his back and his heart, and he didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream.
The pain in his back eventually subsided enough for him to shift to the edge of the couch and heave himself upright. He felt nauseous and unsteady on his feet. His eyes meandered around the room, confirming that while he had been at the bar last night, Hannah had indeed done what she said she would do and moved her stuff out. All her possessions were gone. The notebook and pen that had been ever present on the coffee table. The power cables for her laptop and phone on the counter. Her jacket on the coat stand. The small bits and pieces that she would leave lying around like perfume bottles and makeup. All absent along with Hannah herself.
Booth's eyes eventually came to rest on a small metallic object on the coffee table. The key he had given her to the apartment. He dropped back down onto the couch, catching his head in his hands as he slumped forward. He allowed himself to cry then, to feel the sadness and desperation that was threatening to suffocate him. The problem was, he wasn't entirely sure that what he was feeling was all about Hannah. Their depth of feeling for each other clearly wasn't as profound as he had thought, and it was becoming ever clearer that Hannah had been nothing more than a band-aid. A temporary solution to the long-term problem that was his unrequited love for his partner.
That didn't mean though that the demise of his relationship with Hannah didn't still sting like a bitch. While ever he'd had Hannah, he'd had hope. Hope that one day, his feelings for Bones would fade. Fade enough for him to see her only as his work partner, to enable him to get on with his life, to be happy. Now, he was facing the fact that he had to begin that process all over again with someone new and Booth just didn't think he had the strength for that. His heart had been broken so many times now, he felt that if it were to get broken again, there would be no recovering from it. How many times could a heart break before it was impossible to put the pieces back together again?
Eventually managing to pull himself together, he stood up and made his way to the bedroom, stripping his clothes off as he went before dumping them all on the bed to take care of later. Noticing the time on the clock radio on the nightstand, he realised he had been due in at work a half hour ago. Cursing under his breath, he hustled to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a quick shower before dressing, foregoing a shave, then heading out the door, hoping he was sober enough to drive.
The drive to work proved to be uneventful apart from the occasional urge to hurl or cry, both of which Booth managed to supress. If anybody had noticed his tardiness at the Hoover, they didn't mention it as Booth made his way through the Bull Pen to the kitchen to grab a much-needed coffee before heading to his office to make a start on work for the day. Ordinarily, he hated having to complete the files for their cases, but today he was grateful for the distraction it provided if only for a few hours at least.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
By lunchtime, Booth's hangover had really kicked in and he felt like hell. His head was pounding, and his body ached. He had substituted the coffee for bottled water around mid-morning, but it hadn't been enough to combat the sensation that he had been walking miles through a desert while not getting any sleep for a week.
He abruptly pushed his chair away from the desk, deciding that he really needed to get some air and maybe something to eat to calm his churning stomach. As he descended through the building in the elevator, he pulled his phone from his pocket, checking for any missed calls or messages. He felt a frisson of despair when he saw that neither Bones nor Hannah had tried to call him. He hadn't really expected Hannah to call, he had made it quite clear last night that it was over. But her words before she left, when she said she could see they were done 'for now' made Booth think that maybe she wasn't going to give up without a fight. Something else I was wrong about he thought bitterly. He had expected Bones to call though, but then he paused for a moment to consider that maybe he wasn't so surprised that she hadn't called after all.
Booth and Brennan hadn't been on the best of terms since Booth returned from Afghanistan with Hannah in tow. He knew his relationship with Bones had suffered, that even though their working partnership was as strong as it ever was, their friendship was in the doldrums. He couldn't even remember the last time he had called her just to talk, to check in with her, ask if she was okay, like he always used to before. Before he screwed everything up by running to Afghanistan. He couldn't believe he had told her last night that he only wanted her as a work partner and nothing more, implying she couldn't even be his friend. He couldn't blame her for not calling him. He wouldn't have called him either. Groaning in frustration, he tipped his head back, his gaze landing on the too bright fluorescent lights overhead in the elevator ceiling making his head pound even more. He screwed his eyes up and rubbed his forehead, sighing in relief when the elevator doors eventually opened allowing Booth to step out and exit the building.
He decided to take a walk, heading for the coffee cart in the park. It was a beautiful sunny day, the sky a cloudless azure blue and the temperature in the mid 50's, relatively mild for mid-February in DC. It was almost torture for Booth though. The beautiful day was in direct contrast to his sour mood, and he had left his sunglasses in his SUV meaning the bright, beaming sun was aggravating his headache. His thoughts were a chaotic, jumbled mess and he didn't even know where to begin unravelling all the feelings that were bombarding his emotional, hungover brain.
He was feeling decidedly irritable by the time he had reached the cart and ordered a black coffee and a doughnut. He wanted to go home to wallow in his misery and self-pity, but he couldn't just go home without questions being asked by his superiors at the office. Also, his empty apartment would just remind him of Hannah, which was something he wanted to avoid at all costs right now. Instead, he found an empty bench to sit on to eat his doughnut and drink his coffee, having 5 minutes of quiet contemplation, trying to organise the chaos in his head.
Feeling marginally less hungover after the caffeine and sugar kicked in, Booth decided he really should head back to work, before anyone noticed his absence. He screwed up the paper napkin from the doughnut and tossed it in a nearby trashcan along with the empty coffee cup. He walked at a faster pace heading back than he did on the way to the park and was happy to find his legs didn't ache so much and the pounding in his head was more tolerable. He was just nearing the edge of the park when something, or someone, standing about 50 yards away on the sidewalk, caught his eye.
His heart began to palpitate uncomfortably in his chest, and he could feel a slight sheen of sweat breaking out on his brow. He couldn't see her face, but he didn't need to. He would know her anywhere. He'd had his hands on every inch of her body, he knew how she moved, her mannerisms- like the toss of her soft blonde curls over her shoulder that he had just observed. The clothes, the same white wool coat she had worn to their none-date last night and the dark brown purse casually slung over her shoulder. It was definitely her. Hannah.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't bear to see her so soon after their break-up. It was still too raw, and he didn't trust himself not to say something he would regret. He was just about to turn tail and head back the way he came, when he saw her lift her hand and wave at someone down the street in the opposite direction to him. Booth's curiosity got the better of him and he shifted to the side, slinking closer to the trees and shrubs that lined the path through the park, keeping perfectly still, observing.
Prickles immediately ran up Booth's neck as he watched a man approach his ex-girlfriend. He looked a similar age to himself, mid to late 30's. He was a similar height to Booth, but this guy was really well built. In fact, he was huge. He looked like he could be a body builder with his well-developed pectoral and biceps muscles straining against the fabric of his jacket. He was well dressed in a dark grey tailored suit and pale blue dress shirt. He had short, blonde, curly hair and Booth could just make out from this distance, teeth so white they were almost luminous.
Hannah was still facing away from Booth so he couldn't interpret what her reaction to this guy was. They seemed to be just talking until he pointed down the street before taking off in that direction. Hannah paused for a moment before she reluctantly followed behind him. Booth thought her posture was stiff, cautious. She seemed uncomfortable with this guy, whoever he was. A tingle of unease chased down Booth's spine as he watched her walk away. Her head was down, eyes on the ground, walking slowly before the guy paused to open the door of a red SUV parked at the side of the road, urging her to get in.
Booth made a split-second decision. He could do nothing, or he could follow them. His gut was telling him that for whatever reason, Hannah didn't want to get in that car. She might not want to marry Booth, but that didn't mean that he didn't still care about her. He still loved her and it would kill him if something happened to her when he could have prevented it.
He took off jogging towards the red Jeep SUV almost breaking into a sprint as he got closer. Hannah hadn't gotten in the vehicle yet and he was closing in by the second. He had gotten within 20 feet of the car when Hannah finally got in and the guy – who had gotten into the driver's seat by this point- immediately put his foot on the gas and sped away. Booth made it to the sidewalk in time to see the car pulling into traffic. He immediately pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a quick picture of the license plate so he could run it when he got back to the office. He intended to find out who this guy was and what he wanted with Hannah.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Despite the remaining vestiges of his hangover, Booth made it back to his office in record time, desperate to run this plate to try and find out who this guy was. He had just sat down behind his desk and woken up his computer ready to trace the license plate when there was a quiet knock on his door.
Booth lifted his head and locked eyes with his partner who was standing in the doorway, half in half out, clearly undecided if she was welcome or not.
"What're you doing here, Bones?" Booth asked tersely. He knew he sounded rude, and ordinarily, seeing Bones would have brightened his day, but at that present moment he didn't have time for distractions.
"I was worried about you, Booth. I tried calling, here and your cell phone but you weren't picking up. I came to see if you were alright." Her words sounded like a reprimand, but her voice was low and brittle and Booth could see she was upset.
Booth looked down at the cell phone in his hand, wondering how he had missed her calls. His eyes locked on to the little symbol in the top corner indicating the ringer was off. He must have done it by accident earlier when he had checked it in the elevator, and he could now see the missed calls on the screen. Bones had tried calling him 6 times in the space of 30 minutes. If he wasn't in such a bad mood, Booth would have smiled. It was almost comforting to find that some things haven't changed – like his partner's persistence for one.
"I'm fine, Bones. Look, I'm kinda in the middle of somethin' here." He said, indicating to his computer screen with his hand, circumventing the elephant in the room, not wanting to acknowledge what happened last night and the reason why his partner might be upset with him.
"Is it for a case? I can help-" Brennan said, undeterred, but Booth cut her off.
"No. It's not for a case." More brusquely than before, hoping she would get the hint and avoid the need for him to just tell her outright to go away. He didn't want Bones getting mixed up in this. His life and this situation were messy enough as it was.
"Alright." Brennan said quietly, her tone telling Booth it was anything but. Booth broke eye contact, no longer able to tolerate the pain that was clear on his partner's face. All he saw of her when he looked up again as she walked away was the heel of her boot and the tail of her dark blue trench coat. Then she was gone.
Booth inhaled a shuddering breath and wondered for a moment if he had just lost Bones now too. Shame engulfed him as he replayed his harsh words to his partner. God, he'd got some grovelling to do if he was going to rectify this. He'd got too much to think about right now. He could only deal with one thing at a time, and unfortunately, Bones was going to have to take a backseat, yet again. As soon as he had ascertained that Hannah wasn't in danger, he would go and make it up to Bones, if she allowed him to that is.
With renewed determination, he searched the license plate details and found they belonged to a Thomas Peterson of Fairfax, Virginia. Booth immediately ran a background check on Thomas Peterson. Drumming his fingers on the desk impatiently while he waited for his computer to display the information he requested, Booth couldn't help but let his mind wander for a moment. He found himself thinking about Bones and wondering what might have happened if he hadn't asked her to give them a chance that night after telling Sweets the truth about their first case together. If he hadn't pushed her into making a decision she wasn't ready for. Would they still be just partners, or would their relationship have naturally progressed? Booth was inclined to think the latter, especially after Bones confessed to him that she regretted not taking that chance with him. She didn't realise until it was too late, until they'd spent seven months apart and Booth was already in a relationship with Hannah. He would always love Bones. He'd recently come to accept that. But how would they ever work as a couple? Booth didn't think they would. Especially not now, not after everything that had happened recently, and right then, Booth wouldn't have been surprised if Bones never spoke to him again.
Sighing with sadness and resignation, Booth closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. He still felt like crap and this day felt like one of the longest, worst days of his life. He opened his eyes and saw that the background check was complete. He scanned the information and was surprised and a little relieved at what he saw.
Born in Boston in 1974, Thomas Peterson attended East Oak High School in Boston before going to college and gaining a PhD in Orthodontics from the University of Pennsylvania and now has practice right there in DC.
That explains the super white teeth Booth thought. But it didn't explain his connection to Hannah, or the fact that he looked like he could moonlight as a superstar in the WWE.
Booth continued reading and what he saw next almost made his heart stop. Peterson married a Hannah Brierley in 2004. Brierley. Not Burley but close. Was it a coincidence? Possibly. But it was too close a coincidence for it not to raise Booth's suspicions, after all, it wasn't unusual for a person in the public eye to alter their name because it was difficult to pronounce. He tried searching for Hannah Brierley keeping his fingers crossed that something about her record differentiated her from Hannah Burley. Something. Anything. The search seemed to take forever and when it finally appeared on the screen, his heart plummeted to his stomach and he thought he was going to throw up. The date of birth, the place she was born, her education, her employment. It was all the same. Hannah Brierley was Hannah Burley.
Slamming his hand on the desk in a pique of rage, Booth then pushed back in his chair, rubbing both hands over his face, trying to dispel the pressure building up in his head. He thought he had known her, like, really known her. He knew everything, apart from the fact that she used a false name and the fact that she was already married. Married. The thing he had wanted most in the world -to be married- she already had. With someone else.
God. This hurt. This hurt bad. Far worse than her refusal of his proposal last night. He sat forward in his chair and double checked the records for both Hannah and Peterson, just in case he'd missed anything, like a divorce. But no. No divorce. Thomas Peterson and Hannah Brierley were legally still married. The only question Booth had now, was if they were separated or if Hannah had been living a double life these past ten months.
He hoped that they were simply separated, and the reason Booth had seen them together was that Hannah was still on good terms with Peterson, and he was simply assisting her with somewhere to stay since she had moved out of Booth's apartment the previous evening. However, his gut was telling him he was a little naïve to believe that. He was an investigator; it was his job, and the evidence was adding up to the fact that she'd been leading a double life. It made sense. Her lack of personal possessions, working away all the time, the fact that she apparently hadn't been bothered at all by the fact that Bones had confessed to having feelings for him. Because why would it bother her? She was already cheating on him. Or should he say, cheating on her husband with him.
Booth felt used. He felt worthless. Had he even meant anything to her? Had she loved him like she'd said she did? He doubted it. He doubted the truth of any word that had ever left her lips.
It was suddenly too much for Booth to bear. He couldn't think or see through the pounding in his head and the ache in his chest. He twisted his wrist and checked his watch. It was somehow 4.30pm. Time had passed him by, but Booth was glad. It was late enough that he could justify going home. He knew he had been far from productive, but he wasn't going to achieve anything more there that day, especially not in the state he was in. Finding out Hannah was already married suddenly made him question everything. Question every decision he had made since he met her.
He pushed away from the desk, grabbed his jacket from where it hung on the back of his chair, and stalked out of the office. He needed food, he needed sleep, and maybe a drink. Anything that would make him forget how a good portion of his life for the past ten months had been nothing but a lie.