Pretty short chapter, but I'm almost a hundred percent sure you'll like it.
Disclaimer: Bones isn't mine...
The Truth in the Talk
She's young. She's naïve. She might even be a little foolish sometimes, but she isn't blind. She's always been sharp, so it surprises her that she hasn't truly noticed until now—until she hears Seeley's voice catch in his throat as he traces Temperance's cast, those words and that happy picture that looks somehow right.
He loves her. Of course. It's so simple that Hannah's shocked she hasn't seen the truth before. She's always suspected there is something more between Seeley and his partner—lust? physical attraction?—but she's never suspected the truth of it all: that Seeley is head over heels, completely and irreversibly, in love with his partner.
Instantly, a wave of anger makes her fists clench and her eyes narrow. It takes all of her willpower to keep silent in that painful moment of betrayal. She trusted this man. She's moved to Washington to be with him, given up her love of travel to stay with him, and given him her heart, whole and warm. And he's accepted it all with a blinding, charming smile that makes her light up—all the while keeping one eye on his beautiful partner. What the hell, what the hell, Seeley?
Hurriedly, she calms herself, quickly and with discipline just as she's been taught. Reporters should always keep levelheaded and cool because they aren't likely to run into the politest people on the planet in their line of work. So she takes a deep breath and tries to think it through to avoid leaping to conclusions.
Seeley loves Temperance. It's obvious now that she knows. The way he looks at her, the way he visibly restrains himself in her presence, the way he stands close to her but not touching—all of it practically screams attraction and more. Maybe something even happened between them, but they aren't together now. It's painfully obvious in their slight awkwardness around each other, the way Temperance's eyes glance off Seeley's but never quite catch, and the way he touches her only hesitantly. So she knows, instinctively, that at least he hasn't done anything with his partner. He may be in love with her, he may have even told her, but he's stayed loyal, just like Hannah always knew he would. But why, if he's so obviously in love with his partner, has he said nothing?
The shock on his face when he spots those words on Doctor Brennan's cast tells her everything in a glance: he doesn't know he's in love with Doctor Brennan. Somehow, incredibly, he's unaware of his own attraction to another woman. Or, more likely, he's completely aware of it and trying to resist it. Why? Out of loyalty to Hannah? Maybe…maybe he's trying to do right by her after all. Maybe he still has his values left, and maybe he's genuinely cares about her enough to try to bury his feelings for his partner to protect his girlfriend.
At that thought, some of the anger in her softens, but the greater part of her is still bitter. Still feeling the ache of heartbreak. She grabs a hold of these bitter feelings, holds them close, because, as she knows from experience, anger is always better than tears.
She watches him abruptly spin on his heel, his eyes still slightly wide, and grab his son by the hand. "Come on, Parker," he says, his voice strangled with emotion—confusion, lingering surprise, restraint. "Let's get going." Without so much as a goodbye to Doctor Brennan, he starts for the doors, his jaw clenched. After a moment, Hannah starts after him, her brow furrowed as her brain leaps to process what she's seen. Callous is what comes to mind when she sees how he doesn't intend to turn back to say goodbye to Doctor Brennan. She feels a pang of satisfaction in it too, hoping in a fit of jealousy and cruelty that Doctor Brennan is hurt by it. But, she realizes almost instantly, his silence isn't intentional. He's shaken by something, and he isn't thinking quite straight. He's only doing the instinctual thing: distancing himself from the problem to either think it out or hope it solves itself.
Some of the satisfaction deflates, and with it, the anger. She realizes that Seeley is just as confused about his feelings as she is—hell, probably more confused—and she realizes she can't really blame him. She's not the type of person to hold grudges anyway, and if there's anything she's learned as a reporter, it's that making conclusions without having a face-to-face, honest-to-God conversation is like jumping into quicksand and hoping there's dry land underneath.
She forces herself to calm down, forces the automatic fury and betrayal away. While she sits in the car waiting as Seeley walks Parker up to the door to his mother to explain the field trip situation, she takes deep, steadying breaths and tries to think out how she'll approach it. Cool, collected, and direct. But not angry. No, she won't go to him angry. If she's wrong, he'll resent her. If she's right, he'll feel even guiltier because of her anger. And as absolutely tempting as that is, she has her morals too. She won't be the evil girlfriend Seeley will resent years from now. No, she'll be as understanding as she can manage, because even after all this, Seeley is as good a man as she's ever known, and he deserves as good a person as she can be.
On the long, silent ride home, she prays, prays, prays she's wrong.
"Seeley, we need to talk."
Booth drops his keys on the table next to the apartment door and shakes his head. "Not now, Hannah, okay? I'm really tired."
She crosses her arms and moves in front of him. "Seeley. If not now, then when?"
He looks down into her eyes and sees that she's serious, as serious as he's ever seen her. Swallowing, he suddenly has a bad feeling about this, and he nods with a quiet sigh, rubbing his eyes. "Okay. What do you want to talk about?"
"Let's sit down," she suggests, moving toward the living room. He follows her obediently, wondering why she's so serious all of a sudden. They both sit, she in the armchair across from him as he stretches on out the couch.
"Okay," he says when they're settled, "what are we talking about?"
Hannah hesitates. She bites her lip and glances at him shyly, once, twice. It almost reminds him of Bones when she doesn't quite know what to say or how to say it. With a sigh and an encouraging smile, he says, "Spit it out, Hannah."
She takes much less encouragement than Bones usually does. "Okay." She takes a deep breath and asks in a rush, "Are you in love with Doctor Brennan?"
What?
He stares at her. He can't help it. His mouth runs dry, and he feels like he's swallowed sandpaper. The smile slips off his face. He feels suddenly, irrationally, like he's been caught in the lie—but what lie?
She takes in his silence and nods slowly. "That's a yes, then."
He hurriedly moves to sit upright, shaking his head vehemently. "No, no, no, Hannah, I love you."
She shakes her head too, sadly. "Seeley, don't lie to me. You haven't lied to me yet, and don't start now."
Her words sent a pang of guilt through him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He's guilty because she doesn't know about all the times he'd been thinking about Bones when he'd told her he wasn't. She doesn't know the nightmares he wakes up at night from are all about Bones getting shot or hurt or kidnapped. She doesn't know what used to be between them, something so real he'd almost grasped it between his fingers. When had he started to keep so many secrets from her? And why are all his secrets centered around Bones?
He forces himself to look her in the eye and says, "I love you, Hannah. I do."
She smiles, but it's sad. "Do you really? Maybe you just want to love me so badly you almost do. Almost."
"Not almost," he protests, giving her an earnest look. "I love you. I love you. How many times have I told you that?"
She doesn't answer for a long moment. Instead, she turns her head and stares out at the window to the dark sky beyond. He scrutinizes her expression closely, wondering when he's grown so inept at reading people. It's his job to read people, for goodness sake, so why can't he read people when it matters most? Not Bones then, not Hannah now. He's shut out, and he's feeling more and more often these days like Bones must feel—fenced off, unable to understand the very real emotions flying around, bewildered by everything his heart throws him.
"I see how you look at her," Hannah says at last, not looking at him. "You don't look at anyone like that. Not even me."
His breath catches in his throat. He can't have been so obvious, could he? Sure, he might have snuck some glances at Bones here and there, but it's all guilty pleasure. It's not like he'll ever really do anything other than look at Bones, not when he has Hannah. Not when Bones has pushed him away already.
"Bones and I have been partners a long time," he says at last, not looking her way. "We're just really good friends."
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hannah's wry smile. "Really good friends. Right."
"Really!"
"Really."
He hates the quiet pain in her voice, hates even more that he's the cause of it. Damn it. Damn it. He tried to be honest, and he hurt Bones. He tried burying his past, and he hurt Hannah. Is there no way he can make a woman happy? How does he untangle the mess he's made of his life?
"Your son doesn't like me like he likes her either," Hannah says with a small smile. At Booth's automatic move to protests, she adds, "When we dropped him off earlier at his mother's house…he doesn't look at me the same way either, Seeley. When he looks at Temperance, he's…glowing."
"He's really good friends with her too," Booth tries, but even he knows his attempt is weak.
She laughs softly. Her eyes flash up to meet his for a brief, brief moment before darting away again. "Seeley, when we came back from Afghanistan, did you ever think we were going to last?"
He nods vehemently. "Of course I thought we were. I mean, I still think we are. We're going to last because we're right for each other. Look, Hannah. I love you. For real." He shifts to the edge of the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I don't say that to just anyone. I've…known a little about love, and I know how strong it can be. So I wouldn't just lie to you about it."
She smiles sadly. "Seeley, don't you see? Maybe it's not me you're lying to."
He stares at her in confusion. "Who else would I be lying to?" Not that he's lying at all, because he isn't. He loves her.
She sighs. "Maybe it's yourself."
And her words hit him like a punch to the gut, because all of a sudden, just like that, he sees. He sees with startling clarity what he's been struggling to hold back for months, ever since they returned from their respective corners of the earth to Washington. He sees what he's been terrified of admitting to anyone, even to himself.
He's still in love with her. God, he's still in love with her.
His mind shuts down the thought immediately, defensively. No, he's not. He can't be, because he's in love with Hannah. He's been in love with Hannah for a long, long time now. He's kept his promise to Bones; he's moved on because he knows that with Bones, with someone so strong and yet somehow still so scared, he'll never find what he wants. She told him as much herself. She'd encouraged him to move on, for God's sake! He's been doing the right thing all along. He has, damn it.
"I don't love her," he says quietly, and the words almost hurt as he says them. He doesn't think he's ever told so terrible a lie. As soon as the words leave his lips, guilt makes his mouth dry.
She sees right through him. "Don't lie to me, Seeley. If you ever loved me—if you ever even liked me—you owe me the truth."
He owes her the truth. Doesn't he? After all he's put her through, after running off at the drop of the hat for Bones, after coming home to take her patient presence for granted, doesn't he owe her some honesty?
"What if I hurt you?" he says, looking away. A stupid question, he realizes instantly. He's already hurt her; it's just a question now of how badly.
"Honesty," Hannah replies. But she sounds like as much as she needs to know, she doesn't want to. He wouldn't want to know either, if the woman he loved was torn between two men. But he can't keep it in any longer, can he? Because, he realizes suddenly, when you're in love with two people at once, someone always ends up hurt.
Very quietly, thinking the whole while he sounds like a miserable little coward, he asks, "Do you think it's possible to be in love with two people at once?"
There—it's out. He's let the words loose finally. He loves Hannah, yes. But he loves Bones too, loves her with a deep longing he's nursed for six years now, loves her so much his chest aches and he has nightmares about her getting hurt. He loves her so much a year's denial and a beautiful girlfriend has done nothing for him beyond reinforcing everything he feels toward her.
Hannah sighs quietly. "I knew it." But she doesn't sound bitter, just weary. He'd almost prefer her on her feet and screaming at him, because now, watching her sit there understandingly makes him feel like even more of a bastard.
He sighs miserably. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I didn't mean…I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone. But somehow, I just find a way to screw everything up." He runs a hand through his hair and can't even bring himself to meet her eyes.
"Seeley," she says gently. When he doesn't respond, she rises from the armchair and crosses over to the couch, sitting down beside him with their knees barely touching. He shivers at the contact. "Seeley, my father used to tell me that a man who tries to please everyone pleases no one."
"I feel awful," he groans, turning away from her touch. "I'm a terrible, terrible person."
They sit there in silence for a long moment. He sneaks a glance at her, trying to puzzle out just how bad the whole situation is, and finds her with a conflicted expression on her face. After a moment, she seems to gather together her resolve and turns her head to look at him. She reaches out to him again, taking his hand in hers, and he doesn't have the heart to pull away.
"Seeley, let me tell you a story." She licks her lips and glances down at her hands for a second before looking back at him. "When I was in my first year of journalism, I interviewed a World War II veteran. Really neat old guy, tons of stories up his sleeve. They let us interview people like that early on because it's easy to get interesting stories out of them; they've lived so long and seen so much, you know? So I went to him expecting all these war stories and horrible tales about lost friends or fallen soldiers. And for a while, that's what we talked about. But then I asked him what his greatest regret was, and it blew me away. You know what he told me?"
Booth shakes his head, wondering where this is going and how talking regrets is supposed to make him feel better—and wondering if she's trying to make him feel better at all. "What?"
"A love story," she answers, a remembering smile on her face. "He told me a love story. Here I was, rookie journalist, expecting some meaty story about not being able to save a dying soldier, or maybe losing a best friend in the line of duty, and the vet feeds me a love story. But then I really listened to him, and I realized this love story was probably worth more than all the gory war stories he could have told."
"His regret," Booth can't help but ask. "What was his regret?"
She turns to him fully then, a small smile on her lips but it's sad. "He said he let the right woman go and the wrong woman stay." She laughs softly. "That was when he was twenty. Can you believe it? An ancient old veteran of one of the bloodiest wars on earth, and his one regret in all his years was a love that happened sixty, seventy years back." Her voice quiets, thoughtful now. "It stays with you, Seeley. That man showed me that feelings like that—like the ones you obviously have for your partner—they don't go away, ever. They stick with you."
He swallows hard and tries again, stubbornly, "What if I feel the same way about you?"
She shakes her head. "Let's stop that, okay? If you love someone like you love Temperance, you don't have enough heart left over to love a second person, don't you think?" She squeezes his hand and looks into his eyes. "I don't want to be the regret you still remember sixty years down the road, Seeley."
His heart tears for her, for this strong, selfless woman who has opened up the possibility to everything he wants and more, all at cost to herself. "Hannah…" His voice breaks, and he has to swallow before going on. "What—what about your fairytale? You told me you were waiting for that prince charming. I don't…I don't want to be the one who stamps all over your dreams and leaves you like some cold-hearted bastard."
She smiles gently and squeezes his hand one last time before letting go. "Seeley. I think I realized a long time ago that it isn't my fairytale I'm living; it's hers."
In that moment, he feels a swell of affection for her very close to love, so close, so damn close, but not quite. He can tell the difference now, now that he's admitted to himself that his feelings for Bones haven't changed in the slightest. He does love Hannah, he realizes, but in a different way than he loves Bones. More friendly, affectionate, not as deep but still real.
He reaches out an arm suddenly and crushes her into a tight hug. "I love you," he says fiercely, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I do. Not…not the same way I love Bones, but I do love you, in my own way. You've been the best friend anyone could ever ask for, and the best girlfriend too. You've given me so much, and I can't ever repay you for that. So thank you."
He feels her smile into his shoulder. "I know, Seeley. I know." She sounds like she's holding back tears, and he can't help but hold her tighter. "It's been fun. I learned a lot too."
After a long moment, he swallows hard and pulls back. Gripping her upper arms, he looks into her eyes and promises, "You'll find that guy, Hannah. I know you will. You deserve it."
She smiles and reaches in for another hug. "It's nice to hear someone say that."
"You deserve it," he repeats. He squeezes her for a long moment, wondering if this really is the end to their ten long months together, if it's the end to a wonderful romance that started halfway around the world in a warzone. He's struck with a pang of loss and knows that the parting will be bittersweet. He wishes he could fix it all without hurting her or Bones. Without hurting anyone.
"So," she says, pulling away. Clearing her throat, she stands. "I should get packing. I don't have much to pack anyway. Didn't come with much and won't leave with much." She smiles, but he can see it's forced. "I should be out of your hair by morning."
He reaches up to catch her wrist before she can move. "Stay." He looks up at her, at her surprised expression, and clarifies, "Stay at least until morning. I'm not such a bastard that I'd make you get out at the drop of a hat. Take your time. I want—I need to make it up to you." He tries for a smile and gets the feeling he fails miserably, judging by the wry smile on Hannah's face. "I'll take the couch; you take the bed. I'll make you breakfast in the morning, and I'll help you pack afterwards. Okay?"
She seems relieved that he insists. They both need time to absorb what's happened, he realizes. A good, long night of sleep will do them both wonders; it'll calm down emotions made sharper by night and weariness, and it'll give them clear heads to think out the next step. Nothing can be done now, not while they're tired and reeling from what's happened between them in the past twenty minutes.
So he smiles tiredly and releases her wrist. "Get some sleep, okay? And sleep in too. No need to hurry."
She smiles back, and they hold each other's gazes in the dark. Her eyes are sad—he can bet his are too—but they're calm at the same time. At peace. They've let their feelings out, for better or for worse, and it's made honest people of them. Now all they can do is wait, wait and hope. Hope for better days, for friendly partings, for the right people to come along. Or, in his case, for the right person to come back.
"Good night, Seeley," she says finally, giving him a last smile before disappearing into the bedroom.
"Good night," he whispers softly after her with a quiet sigh. Then, closing his eyes, he stretches out on the couch, his thoughts scattering in the dark, flitting here and there but always, always returning to the beautiful scientist with blue eyes and a gorgeous smile he's been loving for almost seven years.
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