"Are you okay?" Booth asked, his eyebrows scrunching together, because Brennan was in her office, with all the lights off. And he was pretty sure he heard her whimper, when she heard Booth open her office door, as quiet as possible. "Bones?"
No answer, but the blackness next to where Booth knew her desk was, from his memory, shifted.
"Bones, I see you."
No answer.
Booth turned, to flick on the lights.
"Why were you in the dark?" Booth asked turning his head to where her desk was, but when he saw her face he stopped sort, horror filling his eyes. The concern that had practically vibrated off him before was tripled.
Her mascara was streaked down her cheeks, and her eyes were red and puffy. Her black tears still moistened the flesh under her eyes and along her cheeks. Their eyes caught, and Booth's chest expanded painfully, at what he found there. He froze, unsure of what he could do, of what he was allowed to do. He hated limitations, but he obeyed them. He was frozen against the doorframe.
He had caught her with her walls down, giving in to the pull of sadness that rarely flashed in her eyes, the despair, that Booth despised, and tried to wipe off her face with a smile, usually.
Her eyes reflected a hell that Booth thought only he knew, but just as fast as the light as went on, she looked away.
Booth wanted to take her into his arms, but he had come here to explain to her that the midnight meals could not happen anymore. He had promised Hannah he would try and focus more on their relationship. Because she was afraid he was slipping away, in to his work, his old routine.
"If this is a bad time…" Booth trailed off, losing his balls, when she looked up at him again. This time her eyes were cold, detached, logical. She was the brain now, her heart was somewhere tucked deep in her soul, behind layers and layers of coldness, for Booth couldn't catch a glimpse of her warmth in the ice blue of her irises.
"Why would this be a bad time?" She sounded surprised, and Booth noted with a slight frown that her voice was hoarse, throaty.
She had been crying for a while- and it wasn't just tears, it the whole gasping for breath, lump in your throat, pressure on your heart, kind of crying. The kind that gives you wrinkles. The kind you do in the dark.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Booth shook his head, trying in vain to rid him self of the weight on his heart. He hadn't felt this way for years, six years to be precise.
Brennan looked away again, but got up and moved to her couch. Booth followed, sitting next to her. His legs felt numb, as he walked, finally free of his hold.
They were silent, until Booth heard Brennan sigh.
"What happened?" He demanded, turning toward her. She pushed her hands far into her jacket pockets, for the chill of her office was irritating her wrist.
"What did you want to discuss?" Her cold scientific voice echoed through the office door, through to the empty, chilled, lab.
Booth collected his thoughts silently.
"It doesn't matter what I came here to discuss- what matters is that…" Booth flinched.
"What did you come here to discuss?" Brennan asked.
Booth decided that he would just start with requests.
"Do you have the key I gave you to my apartment?"
"Yes." Brennan shifted uncomfortably. She had made two copies.
"I want it back." He sighed, and finally looked at her.
She got up, and walked over to her desk drawer. It was mostly empty except for the two copies of his apartment key, Jasper the pig, and Brainy Smurf.
There was also a letter in side of the drawer, tucked inside of the book she had dedicated to him.
There was also a picture of Parker, herself, and Booth; it was also in the crevasses of her book.
She could have only gave him the two keys and kept the other, but she decided against it.
She took the keys out of the drawer, and got the other one, which was on her key chain, and then she gave them to him.
Why wasn't she allowed to have his keys? It was only for emergencies, so what was wrong?
Then it hit her.
She wasn't responsible for worrying about Parker or Booth. It was Hannah's job to do that. If there were an emergency Hannah would take care of it.
Then it hit her.
This was Booth's way of saying that she wasn't his village anymore.
But had already known that. This just made everything so much bigger, and obvious.
It was proof.