A/N: I am overwhelmed by the reviews to this story. Thank you for taking the time to let me know you are enjoying it and sticking with me.
There are as many theories about seasons 5 and 6 as there are stories to go with them. And I don't want them to be angry forever. Otherwise this will be a very depressing 30 chapters. So, a few more chapters of super angst and then some Christmas fun...mixed with a little angst. Because I'm always about Booth and Brennan being a couple.
~OOOOOOO~
She froze, the fork halfway to her mouth. Carefully, Brennan returned it to the plate.
He was watching her again. Waiting for her reaction. Something he kept doing since showing up in the Lab.
"I'm not going anywhere, Booth. I haven't gone anywhere." The implication that he was the one who'd pulled back this time was clear. She'd been waiting for a phone call, any indication he was ready to talk to her.
"No, only halfway around the world for seven months," he said with a trace of bitterness.
Returning to her lunch, Brennan didn't immediately respond to the statement. She didn't need a reminder of everything that had come between them. But she wasn't going to take all the blame either. The center fell apart. A center that included both of them.
"You left as well," she pointed out, her voice even. "And we've both been back for some time now." Shaking her head, Brennan wondered what this lunch was accomplishing. "Would you like to talk about the paper I sent you to read?"
No, that wasn't what he wanted to talk about. He wanted to demand she sit down and have an honest conversation with him if he promised to do the same. He wanted to know if there was any chance of salvaging what they had. If, for even a moment, she'd ever entertained the idea of the two of them being more than partners.
There was no way she was giving up on digs. Unless she wasn't running away from him anymore or just not running away in general. Had something happened in Maluku that made her want to stick closer to home? The idea made him sick to his stomach. Afghanistan had resulted in several close calls he didn't want her to know about. It wasn't impossible she'd had a couple of her own.
Maybe it was time for him to let that last ember of hope die and accept he was never going to be able to freely love her. Forced to hide his feelings until they ate him alive.
This was crazy, this fight to be by her side again. Most people would have cut the final connection between them, ended the partnership and moved on with their lives. And he'd tried. But after experiencing what seven months without her was like, and the few months he'd put his focus on Hannah, Booth knew he couldn't do that.
He wasn't going to give up on the two of them. They'd been through rough patches before. This fight was worth it. They would fix this. They had to.
One of them had to take the first step. Initiate the conversation they were both avoiding.
At the moment his swirling thoughts were dangerously close to driving him from his seat and out of the restaurant, she reached across the table and took one of his fries.
A single french fry. As she had during a hundred other lunches on a hundred other days. When their relationship was strong and unbreakable.
That damn french fry and the hand that took it, almost brought him to tears.
The ember of hope he'd thought was going to go out grew a bit closer to flame.
They were going to be okay. As long as he was patient and didn't push. The mistakes he made the first time would not be repeated.
"I would love," he said, swallowing the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, "to talk about what you sent me."
She tilted her head and studied him. There it was again. That flash of something Angela had referred to. Was she better at reading everyone, or just him? "You okay, Booth?"
A moment ago, the answer would have been no. But after the theft of his fry? "I'm good, Bones. So you're going to Scotland?"
"After the new year, yes. I planned to stay a week, but will probably be shortening the visit by a couple of days." I want you to go with me, she added in her head. But didn't say the words. This lunch was awkward, filled with things neither of them dared give voice to. An invitation to join her in Scotland was not appropriate.
"Scotland is a lovely country. I spent a short time there, back in my military days. Always wanted to see some of the castles." He took a moment to fantasize a visit with her at his side, all the things they could do. Then pushed it away to refocus on her. "Tell me about your presentation."
Booth continued to eat as she started to talk. As he'd always been, he was captivated by the light in her eyes as she spoke. As her explanation continued, it was clear that she was a little unsure about what she'd prepared, given the topic.
He wanted to lose himself in the sound of her voice and that look in her eyes, but didn't dare. This was clearly important to her, enough that she'd reached out to him. Which meant he needed to pay attention.
Anything involving religion didn't always combine well with his rational partner. He'd do everything he could to make sure this went smoothly for her.
"This is an unusual topic for you to agree to talk about," Booth said. "Religion and magic." Proud of her for taking the chance, he shoved his plate toward her, offering her the last of the fries.
Insecurity flashed in her eyes. Booth realizing she'd misunderstood the comment, again, tried to interrupt her, but she spoke over him. "Do you think I should back out?" Her sigh was heavy and she dropped the fry she'd grabbed. "You are probably correct. Religion is a topic that is outside my expertise."
She'd never worried about presenting in front of a crowd. But if Booth was questioning her ability to do this, then clearly she'd made a mistake.
"Bones." Booth snapped out her nickname in frustration, several heads turning in his direction. Wadding up the napkin in his hand, he threw it to the table. Several bills from his wallet followed before he walked out of the restaurant leaving Brennan sitting at the table.
She remained in her seat to give her racing heart time to settle. When its beat returned to normal she retrieved her coat from the back of her chair. Shoving her arms into it she also left the diner.
Not seeing him in the vicinity, she turned and started to walk back toward the Jeffersonian when his voice stopped her.
"Do you really think I'd leave you here to walk back?" Hurt weaved its way through his voice as he stepped up next to her.
That's the kind of guy she thought he was now.
Yeah, he could see that when he thought about their recent interactions.
"You're angry," she pointed out.
Yep. At himself, at her, at the world in general. That email had given him hope, as had her theft of his food. But each time he opened his mouth, it all fell apart again. "Everything I say to you, every question I ask, is not some sort of critique on what you've said or a decision you've made." When she didn't respond, he kept talking. "I was genuinely curious about why you selected this topic to speak on. There is not a single doubt in my mind that you will do an amazing job."
Ignoring the compliment to her skills, Brennan focused on what she thought was more important. "You've spent months acting annoyed with everything I said to you. Every comment I made." She rubbed a hand along the opposite arm before shoving them both into the pockets of her coat. They stood at the edge of the sidewalk, the few pedestrians stepping around them. Cooler weather kept most people off the streets.
It was a neutral area to start working through everything that was between them. Or to decide this lunch would be the last they had together.
"And then you've spent months pretending I didn't exist," she added. "You could have indicated you needed time."
"That wasn't what I was doing, Bones." He knew she existed. During the day when he missed her at work and during the night when she haunted dreams he couldn't escape. There had never been a moment, not since the day they met, that he'd ever pretended she wasn't in his life.
"No. I guess we both did that," she agreed, wanting to be fair. Even if nothing about this situation was fair. She could have picked up a phone too. "I hear criticism in every comment you make. It's been some time since I heard much of anything else. But I should not make assumptions about what you are saying."
"Why not? For a while you would have been correct." Booth ran a hand through his hair and looked out at the traffic going past. "My goal was never to hurt you, though I did. It wasn't to make you feel inadequate. I have no excuses and my reasons sound terrible." He looked at her, hands tucked in her pockets, wariness in her gaze. "I am surprised you are even here with me now. Why did you send me the paper to read, Bones?"
She shrugged, but Booth wasn't going to let it go. "You have to be honest, Bones. None of this," he said, circling a hand between the two of them, "will get better if we aren't honest with each other."
Tilting her head, she asked her own question. "Do you want it to get better?" What was the point of dealing with all of this if they didn't want the same thing?
"Bones, the first email you sent me that didn't have to do with a case, the first email that you sent me in weeks, had me in your place in less than an hour. What do you think?"
The hint of a smile ghosted across her face. "I asked for your opinion because I trust you. And," she paused to glance down at her feet before looking up again. "And because I miss you. I should have said that at the table, in response to your comment indicating the same."
"Well," he said, motioning for her to start back toward his vehicle, "I guess we have a place to start."
