A/N: Thanks to everyone for the reviews and for reading...and apologies as well for taking so long to update. This chapter just got the best of me for a while. That being said, things should be flowing a little better from this point...parts of the next two chapters are already written (the muse being of the non-sequential sort lately), so promise that the wait will not be nearly as long! Hope you enjoy. -Ana
And a huge thanks to my beta whose insight and support quite literally saved this chapter. -A.
Eyes traveling from her watch to the suitcase at her feet and then the silent phone cradled in her hand, she fought the temptation to check the battery level or signal strength for the third time in as many minutes. He knew she was leaving today.
…I think maybe we've both said enough…
Perhaps he was right. She didn't know. It didn't feel right though, this silence between them. How had they reached this point? She pressed a thumb into the rounded edge of the phone. Maybe she should…
"Bren? The guys are waiting downstairs."
Startled, she looked up to find Angela standing in the open doorway.
"Yes, of course. Sorry, I was just…" She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. What was she doing? Sinking into a nearby chair, she stared at her hands and avoided the knowing look forming in her friend's eyes.
"He still hasn't called?" Angela asked, crossing the room to sit next to her.
She could only shake her head, uncertain what the ache in her chest would become if she tried to speak.
"Don't worry; I'm sure he will…"
Brennan dismissed the well-intended assurance with another shake of her head. She hesitated, then explained in an uneven whisper.
"I hurt him."
"Yes." Angela softly acknowledged the admission. The lack of judgment in the simple statement prompted Brennan to continue.
"But I made the right decision."
"Yes."
Again, Angela spoke with gentle understanding, but this time the same word carried the edge of certainty in its tone. Brennan started to reply but found herself silently staring at the other woman, her throat constricting around the words.
Angela saw the unspoken question in her eyes, knew that she was struggling with the paradox between the belief in her choice and its consequences.
"Do you remember what I told you when you were all confused about sailing off to paradise with Sully?"
"Ange, this has nothing to do with…." Brennan stopped when she noticed Angela's raised eyebrow. "You said, 'Go'."
"Exactly."
"To be precise, you said it four times. Pretty emphatically too. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you wanted to get rid of me."
"Nah. I just wanted the excuse to visit you in Barbados."
Brennan shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. But the momentary relief from the tension quickly faded.
"I don't understand the comparison. Then you thought I should leave with Sully, and now that I should leave…."
"Sweetie, what I wanted then, what I want now, is for you to be happy. And a part of me thinks, knows that you need to leave this place and…."
"But…" She began to ask another question, but Angela stopped her with a shake of her head.
"Listen. Go. Find a great big slice of the world, tear it up and make it your own. Find out who you are without all of this to hide behind, to protect you from being hurt…"
Brennan started to argue, but the reflex to defend herself was lost as she recognized Angela's words echoed her own reasoning.
"….and by the time you come back, maybe you'll realize what the people closest to you have know for a long time."
"Which is?"
"That you are stronger, braver, than you ever give yourself credit for…with or without the crime-fighting, gun-toting, psycho-chasing…"
"You mean with or without Booth."
"Yeah, Bren. I do. And when you come back, he'll…."
A knock against the doorjamb interrupted her, and both women looked up to find Zach staring nervously at them.
"What is it, Zach?" Angela asked impatiently.
"Hodgins said to tell the girls to get in gear unless they wanted to be late. Hodgins said that. Not me. Me, I think it would be okay if Dr. Brennan missed her plane. Not that missing a plane is a good thing. Especially if the ticket is non-refundable but…"
"Zach?" Brennan patiently interjected into the middle of his rapid fire delivery.
"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"
"Please tell Hodgins that we'll be right down."
"Okay. I can do that." He responded, and then, without missing a beat, he turned and left.
The weight of their earlier conversation lightened by Zach's interruption, she and Angela exchanged a look of unspoken amusement.
"He did have a point though. I don't want to miss my flight." Brennan sighed, and then stood to gather the last of her things.
"I'm gonna miss you, you know." Angela said quietly.
"Me too." Brennan whispered
"No tears. You promised." Angela chided as she swiped at her eyes.
"I know, but…." Suddenly realizing that words weren't enough, Brennan leaned forward, hugging Angela tightly. "Thank you."
Angela returned the hug, offering one last piece of advice before stepping away.
"Just give him time, Bren. He'll understand."
He'll understand.
The weight of the silent phone heavy in her pocket, she hoped her friend was right. But Angela hadn't been there to see him walk away.
xxxxxxx
It doesn't matter.
Forty-five minutes into the game he had no idea what the score was. Halfway through a bowl of chips even though they tasted like nacho-flavored cardboard. And he was still telling himself the same thing. That it didn't matter that she was leaving today.
If only he believed it.
He pointed the remote at the television, silencing the squawk of the play-by-play, and tossed it onto the coffee table. For a moment, he focused on the film of dust on the blank screen and dabbled with the idea of dealing with cleaning up the place. But the diversion lasted only as long as it took to think of it.
More than a little disgusted with the little pity party he was throwing, he sighed and levered himself out of the chair then headed into the kitchen. Pointedly ignoring the cell phone resting on the counter, he opened the refrigerator and started to reach for a beer. Then, with a shake of his head, he slammed the door shut and stared at it, not seeing the haphazard display of magnets and hockey schedules and take-out menus posted on its surface.
It was well past time for him to shake the brooding funk he was in, the one that had been following him ever since….
…it's not enough…
...ever since he'd walked away without giving her a chance to explain. He knew he was acting little better than a two-year-old stamping his foot because he couldn't have his way. Or some high school schmuck pining away for the girl that had broken his heart. Not the rational adult that recognized that he was too busy being hurt to be fair, to try to understand.
But that was the problem, wasn't it? Love, hurt, need, heartbreak. None of it was rational, none of it fit into neat, nicely labeled boxes that made any kind of sense. No matter how hard he tried. No matter how much she….
…Please understand. I need to know that I…
Turning, he leaned against the counter and laced his arms over his chest. His eye fell to the phone sitting atop the butcher block surface, almost entranced by the small icon insistently blinking on the display.
The truth was that he did understand. Deep down, a part of him had understood even as he had walked away from her that night. A lifetime of protecting herself from being hurt, that didn't disappear overnight. And even if it had, even if falling in love with him had changed that, she would still need to…
He reached for the phone, turning it over so that he didn't have to see the blinking light indicating a new message was waiting. Because there was another truth that he had to acknowledge. The one that ratcheted up the ache in his chest and made him feel more than a little pathetic. The one that kept him silent even though he knew it had to be causing her pain.
It was the reason he hadn't answered the call when her name had registered on the display, that he had left her to say whatever she had to say on voicemail.
If she had changed her mind, if there had been any kind of last minute reprieve, she would be here, with him, not leaving a message on his phone. Pushing away from the counter, he returned to the fridge and grabbed for a bottle of beer.
So, fine. Call it whatever. Tantrum. Adolescent retaliation. Pouting. Brooding. He wouldn't—couldn't—listen to a message explaining why she had to go. Or listen to her say goodbye.
He went back to the den, searching out the remote and a little more distraction.
The other truth was that right now, it didn't matter what she had to say.
Because whatever it was, even if she was said again that she loved him, even that would hurt too much.
xxxxxxx
Seatbelt securely fastened, carry-on carefully stowed beneath the seat in front of her. Novel that would never hold her attention resting in her lap. Tinny voice announcing that they were almost ready for takeoff.
Except that she wasn't so certain that she was.
"Miss? I'm sorry but I'm afraid that you are going to have to…"
Startled, she looked up to find the flight attendant gesturing to the cell phone she held in her hand, his mouth formed into a friendly smile that didn't quite match up with the expression in his eyes. A nuance that she might have missed not too long ago, before Booth had…
"Ma'am?" He spoke again, a slight arch in his eyebrow betraying his level tone.
"Yes, of course. I was just…." She flashed a smile, certain that it was just as forced as the one he wore, and powered down the phone.
Reaching down she slid the cell into the large pocket of her carry-on, her hand brushing against a tightly folded swatch of soft cotton, its unseen blue bright beneath her fingers.
And suddenly, for the first time since she had left her friends at the security gate, since those long night in Peru, she felt the smallest measure of peace with her decision.
He hadn't called. Maybe he hadn't listened to the message she had left just before boarding the plane. Or maybe he hadn't…forgiven her. Not yet.
But she would wait, trust that they could make it through anything. Even this.
She looked through the small window, at the runway rushing away beneath her and smiled. Genuinely, truly this time.
Because waiting. Trusting. She had learned that from him too.