What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

Ch 18: That Time They Both Got Shrinked

All in all, it had been an exhausting day. And, now, to top it all off, after the many, many hours she had spent dissecting the symbolism of Sully guiding his boat—a boat he had named after her out into the open waters of the wide blue Atlantic—while she watched, only to turn around and find Booth waiting for her wearing that killer smile of his… well, it had been a lot of imagery to deconstruct and dissect. But, Angela had insisted. She had wanted to go over it all, everything. And, go over again. And, finally go over, some more. Personally, Brennan didn't see what the big deal was—Sully had asked, she'd said no, he'd left, she'd stayed. End of story. However, Angela… Angela, well—she seemed unable to let it go. And, the more Brennan thought about it, the more she was unable to decide if Angela was obsessing over the fact that she had let Sully go, or, that Brennan had stayed—and, by inference, the reason why Brennan had stayed.

Thus, as she was being confronted by Booth's psychologist—and he *really* was quite an odd man, Brennan thought, the more and more she heard him talk. He's been classically trained, quite obviously, Brennan thought to herself as she studied the British gentlemen. And, he's certainly got a turn of words, I'll give him that much. But, I don't understand why Booth thinks he can simply sit down with us for a few short minutes and figure out what the crux of our latest clash is because, obviously—well, there's *something* that's wrong between us and probably has been for a while. At least, I mean—I know I can sense some growing tension between us. Things *aren't* the same as they were before—now, I don't know if that's because Booth shot a clown, he started therapy, or I've had a somewhat serious romantic relationship. But, whatever the cause is, I don't see how it can be solved by a practitioner of some soft pseudo-science that only a century ago was acknowledged as the purview of charlatans and quacks.

"I knew what your problem was right off the bat, if you'll forgive the cricketing metaphor," Gordon Gordon said, drawing Brennan's attention back to his revealing pronouncement. His inflection slightly annoyed her, as she still couldn't believe the arrogance of the British man. She made a face as she again thought of how neither she, Booth, nor their partnership were some simple experiment to be solved by a mere five minutes of observation. "The meetings were for fun—"

Wait, Brennan thought, her mental tirade jarring to a halt at his frivolous words. Fun? Us? What did he just say? Did he infer that he was… amused by us?

"Booth never knows where to stand when he's in the lab," Gordon Gordon explained.

Brennan's eyes shot over to her partner, leveling a tacit question in his direction with an arch of her eyebrows. Booth had no response for her besides a slight shrug of his shoulders that seemed to say maybe he's right—

"—feels like teats on a bull whenever he's there," Gordon Gordon continued, giving his analysis as if he were making some large announcement and releasing a greatly expected set of results to an eager public.

Or, perhaps a conference paper, Brennan mused.

"Ditto, Dr Brennan in the interrogation room," Gordon Gordon said, giving a slight nod in the direction of the forensic anthropologist.

Her brow furrowed at his assessment, but she refused to meet Booth's look of inquiry, much like the one that she had given him not two minutes earlier.

"Simple geography, sense of belonging, et cetera," Gordon Gordon finished, as he glanced at the pair over his cup of coffee.

Not surprisingly, it was Booth who spoke first with a shake of his head in muted protest. "But, that's not the main problem."

Brennan turned to look over at her partner, as she processed his words. She thought about his word choice very, very carefully. After a few seconds, she was even more confused than she had been before she analyzed what Booth had just said. Wait, how can Booth know that that's not the problem, if we don't know what the problem is? Because, I have several possibilities that might be exacerbating the more stressful aspects of our partnership, but even I don't feel comfortable saying for certain what the root cause of our issues are… so, how can Booth even say that, unless—unless he knows something I don't? Looking at her partner, and not at Gordon Gordon, Brennan said, "He can't possibly know."

Gordon Gordon, watching the silent byplay going on between the partners in what was one of the most exquisite tennis matches he'd ever had the opportunity to witness, was delighted with the effect his words seemed to have on the pair, particularly Brennan. They were reacting in exactly the manner he'd anticipated, and it tickled him to no end—especially Brennan's response. Sometimes the truth is painful, my dear—particularly when we aren't ready or willing to face it, Gordon Gordon thought.

With a gentle, but indulgent, nod, Gordon Gordon decided to put the pair—especially Brennan—out of their misery. But, first he contemplated taking a sip of the diner's coffee. As he sniffed the acrid smell of the pungent roast, he thought better of drinking it, knowing that if he sipped the bitter concoction, it might ruin his palette for the rest of the day. At last, he gave the partners a pointed look as he said, "Yes, I do." He then focused his gaze first on Brennan, making eye contact for several seconds and holding it before he looked over at Booth and did the same thing. "You're both afraid that the reason Dr Brennan didn't sail off into the sunset with her boyfriend Sully might have been because of her ties to Agent Booth."

Brennan opened her mouth to protest, and then, despite her brain's commands to contradict the psychologist's acute pronouncement, found she couldn't say a word. Booth seemed to be in a similar state of paralysis. Again, Gordon Gordon chuckled mentally with gleeful delight. Deciding to drive his point home, he tilted his head and then said, "You are both quite wrong, by the way."

At this movement, almost as if a spell had been broken, Brennan found that she could speak once more. And, thus freed, before she knew what words were coming out of her mouth, Brennan vehemently countered, "No, we're not."

As soon as she had said it, as soon as the words had tumbled out of her mouth, she flushed in surprise and slight embarrassment. Her eyes widened in amazement at her statement, and her mouth snapped shut reflexively.

Booth, for his part, had opened his mouth to speak at almost the same time Brennan did, but she beat him to it. As soon as Booth heard speak those three little words, he felt as if some type of bomb had been dropped on him, as her words caught him completely off guard.

Turning to look at her, after several seconds of silence—as Gordon Gordon looked on at the pair in the way on a self-satisfied and slightly smug Englishman can—Booth finally arched an eyebrow and said, "Bones?"

Reaching over, Brennan abruptly grabbed Booth's hand and yanked him out of his seat. "We need to talk." Booth opened his mouth to protest, and Brennan quickly shook her head. "Now."

And, as Booth allowed himself to be dragged outside the dinner by Brennan, Gordon Gordon finally grinned as he said softly to himself, "Go forth, my children. Go forth and bask in the wonderful warmth of self-realization. For as a far wiser man than my humble self once said-

Let me not to the marriage of true minds/Admit impediments. Love is not love/Which alters when it alteration finds,/Or bends with the remover to remove:/Oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark,/That looks on tempests and is never shaken;/It is the star to every wondering bark,/Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Yes," Gordon Gordon replied with a self-satisfied nod. "He said that much better than I ever could." Then, looking up and gesturing to their waitress, Gordon Gordon said, "Yes, dear. I think I've changed my mind on the coffee. Can I get a spot of hot water for some tea please? I think my dining companions might be a while…."

-TBC-