A/N: In this chapter, I took creative license and mentioned that there is a 'Smithsonian Museum' in London. I hope this doesn't offend anyone.
Also, I know Booth never actually said the words 'I love you' to Brennan outside the Hoover in the 100th episode, but let's pretend he did for the sake of this fan fiction - makes it more dramatic this way.
P.S. The long rant in this chapter is just one of many. Blame it on my completely unhealthy Gilmore Girls obsession. I thought the rant was heartbreaking, though, so let me know if you thought so, too.
Disclaimer: Hart Hanson owns Bones, not me.
*MUSIC*
Fool's Gold by Adrienne Pierce
No Envy, No Fear by Joshua Radin
Don't Speak by No Doubt
World Spins Madly on by The Weepies
"Heavy hearts, like heavy clouds in the sky, are best relieved by the letting of a little water."
- Antoine Rivarol.
July 2011
"Good job on the interrogation today, Bones," Booth praised as he sat on the couch in her office. "You got him to confess.
Brennan shot him a smile over the paperwork she was doing at her desk. "Thank you, Booth," she said graciously. "Please remove your feet from my coffee table."
He rolled his eyes. Only Bones would sound polite when she's scolding someone, he thought fondly. Ignoring her request, he sighed as he scribbled away his name at the bottom of yet another page. "I hate paperwork," he muttered.
Brennan chuckled, "You've always hated paperwork."
Booth nodded. "Yeah, but I hate it more now," he sighed again.
Brennan raised her head, placing her arms on the table on top of the paperwork, a playful smile playing on the edges of her lips. :And why is that?" she asked coyly, going along with his childish statement.
Booth tilted his head back, reclining back against the couch and giving Brennan a view of the wistful smile he wore. "I miss Hannah," he admitted with a soft voice, a tone she had come to love hearing but hate at the same time since it always had something to do with the blonde woman living with him and playing house with Parker whenever he stayed with his dad.
Her own smile fell momentarily, but she was quick to recover, a smaller, slightly strained, version of her previous grin on her lips. "Oh."
Booth pushed the paperwork off his lap, letting it fall on the couch. "Yeah," he ran a hand through his hair. "She was on assignment early this week, then we were swamped on this case…I feel like we haven't spend much time together recently."
Brennan nodded as though she sympathized with him. "Well, sure…" she said awkwardly, unsure what else she could say. Her eyes traced over his sad face, and even though her heart protested madly, she offered, "Booth, why don't you head home?"
Booth's head snapped up to look at her. "Really?"
God, how she hated the hopeful smile curled on his mouth, his dark eyes boring into her with an eager glint.
"Yes," she said anyway. "It's been a long, hard case. You deserve to go home to Hannah and just relax for the rest of the night. I'll finish up both of our paperwork - you just have to sign them tomorrow."
He hesitated for one short second, and she found herself taking pleasure in that. "I…I can't," he said, obviously torn between what was right and what he wanted. "I mean, you're tired, too, and…"
"Yes, but I don't have a beautiful woman waiting for me at home," she joked lightly. He had to bark out a laugh at that. "Just go home, Booth," she winced internally at the slightly harsh undertone of her voice.
If Booth noticed, he didn't mention. His expression didn't falter. The happy glint in his eyes didn't disappear.
"I'll be fine. I'm almost done with mine, anyway."
A part of her hoped he would argue with her further. A big part of her hoped that he would wave off her suggestion and continue to do paperwork with her.
But, of course, her life had never gone the way she wished it to, not when it came to personal matters. So it didn't surprise her one bit that Booth jumped to his feet, snatching his jacket off the couch's arm rest and dashing to her to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Bones," he told her warmly, slipping on his coat. "You're awesome."
Brennan sighed as she watched him leave hurriedly through her glass wall. "I know," she murmured to the empty room.
She dropped the pen she was holding on top of her paperwork, rolling her chair two inches to her left to sit directly in front of the computer screen. She reached out to move her mouse, clicking on the window to open up her e-mail.
There were several unopened messages from her editor and two from her publisher. She ignored those and went straight for the message by a committee from the Smithsonian Museum in London. They had sent her an e-mail about a week prior, telling her that they had read about the discoveries she'd made in Maluku, and that they were very suitably impressed. They wanted her to be the lead anthropologist on a dig in Greece.
Now, Brennan had always fielded several requests at once. Ever since she had gotten back from Maluku, she'd been getting twice as many offers from all over the world.
At first, she had simply ignored them - she had only been back for barely over two months. She'd just been reunited with her family, with Angela, the rest of the team…With Booth. She had no desire to leave DC at least for a while.
But then, she hadn't taken into consideration how difficult it would be to watch Booth being in love with another woman. She hadn't taken into account how painfully her heart clenches just at the sight of his happy face these days, knowing the reason behind that joy.
When the offer for the Greece expedition had come across her lap, Brennan had deliberated going.
The dig would last for quite some time - close to two years, actually. She would be stationed in Greece, far away from DC, far away from Booth and Hannah, far away from her pain. She would be surrounded by anthropology, surrounded by the only thing she had in her life these days that seemed worth it.
So she had thought about it, for over a week. She wasn't required to give an answer for two more weeks, and the dig wouldn't even begin until next month. She had time, but with each passing day, she was pushed closer and closer towards saying 'yes'.
Now Brennan sat in front of her glowing computer screen, staring at the words the directors of this new project had written, promising her every possible incentive they could think of.
"Where was Booth rushing off to?" she heard, and jumped, looking up in surprise at Cam, strolling into her office. "We already solved the case - he can't be having another hunch, can he?"
Brennan gave Cam a small smile. "He misses Hannah," she repeated Booth's words. Cam's easy smile turned into an awkward one. "I told him to go home to her."
"Oh."
Brennan reached one hand down, pushing the lever to recline the back of her chair slightly. She leaned back against the slanted backrest, sighing as she closed her eyes tiredly.
Cam eyed Brennan with barely concealed sympathy. If someone were to ask her, how they had all gotten to this point, she wasn't sure she could answer.
Six years ago, when she had first met Brennan, she hadn't even liked the woman. Everything, from her lack of respect of Cam's given authority over her, to her influence over the rest of the team - over Booth - to the way she made Cam feel like she was the one working for her, had irked her. She had thought Brennan to be a cold, aloof woman incapable of human emotion.
And, now, looking at her, being as cold and aloof as she had been six years ago, she understood so much clearly.
She was cold and aloof because she was too capable of human emotion. So capable, in fact, that when she allowed herself to feel it, it crashed into her like the strongest tidal wave and overwhelmed her so completely.
On one hand, like Brennan said, Cam was Booth's friend and she was happy for him that he had found himself happiness.
On the other hand, Cam couldn't help but feel like he had made the wrong choice.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan," Cam sighed, causing the woman in question to crack open her eyes slowly to look at her. "I wish things are different for you."
Brennan nodded. "Me, too," she agreed, running a hand through her hair wearily. "But you know, I'll be fine."
"You know what helps?" Cam asked after a moment.
Brennan cracked a small grin. "Booze and sex?" she suggested.
Cam chuckled. She was unsure if Brennan was making a joke or this was one of those honest comments from her that took people by surprise if they didn't know her tendency to be candid at all times. Either way, it amused her. "Yes," she agreed with the anthropologist.
"Well, I've got that one covered," Brennan assured Cam, remembering the string of one night stands she had taken to having lately in an attempt to drown her sorrows in alcohol and the momentary physical pleasure.
Cam shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Well, good," she said wryly. "But that's not all I meant." At Brennan's raised eyebrow, she elaborated, "Talking about it. You know, Dr. Brennan… You're not alone. We've all suffered through heartbreak before. You might find that it helps to open up to someone."
Brennan couldn't help the derisive snort if she tried. "Yeah, because opening myself up really did me wonders the first time around," she pointed out sarcastically. "I'm not you, Cam. I'm not…I don't talk about my pain and feel better about it."
Instead of taking offense in Brennan's words - mostly because she knew Brennan actually didn't mean to sound the rude - she tilted her head to the side. "What does help, then? Because the way you've been pretending that everything's fine…I'm afraid it would all be too much to keep bottled up inside."
Brennan stared at Cam for the longest time before leaning forward over her desk. "You know the offer the Smithsonian offered to me?" she asked rhetorically, knowing Cam already knew - all offers had to go through Cam first, since she was the 'boss'. Cam always forwarded all of the e-mails to her to read and sort through once she'd received them.
Cam nodded, eyes growing wide at the implication. "You're thinking of going?" she asked, stepping forward to sink down on a chair opposite Brennan.
Brennan shrugged. "I'm considering it," she replied, confirming Cam's suspicions. "It's a very prestigious offer. I'm intrigued by it."
Cam, never one to take nonsense from anyone, gave her a knowing look. "And it's thousands of miles away from Booth," she added.
Brennan couldn't help but smile at Cam's fearless behavior at confronting her. Not many people would. "Yes," she admitted. "I found that aspect to be…Pleasing to my heartache, but distressing at the same time." She frowned at that. "It's all very confusing."
It wasn't confusing to Cam, who understood what Brennan meant easily, but she kept that to herself. She merely sighed and shook her head. "Isn't that dig a two year thing?"
"Twenty months," Brennan corrected. "Not a full two years."
"Right," Cam dragged out the world sardonically.
Brennan drew her bottom lip between her teeth. "I would understand it if you were worried about my position here," she told her boss. "But you already have a list of people I deemed worthy enough to replace me momentarily. And if you are uncertain as to whether or not I should remain an employee of the Jeffersonian, then Clark Edison would-"
Cam cut her off with a shake of the head. "Hush, Dr. Brennan," she chided softly. "I wouldn't dream of replacing you permanently. You're one of us, you'll have your job here waiting for you as long as you want it."
Brennan gave her a nod and a small, thankful grimace - she tried to smile, she really did, but she found herself unable to do so at the moment.
"So…You're really going to go," Cam muttered, staring at Brennan in shock.
Brennan pursed her lips. "I haven't made up my mind one hundred percent," she said slowly. "But I'm almost positive that I will be heading the dig in Greece."
"Hey, Bones, we got a c-whoa!" Booth stopped dead with one foot barely through the doorway of his partner's office. "What's going on, Bones? Doing a little re-modeling?"
Her office, previously so warm and filled with a zillion trinkets and artifacts she'd acquired from her trips, was mostly barren now. There was her furniture - desk, chair, couch, table. But there was nothing on her desk except her computer. Her shelves were all empty, three boxes standing side by side near her couch, filled to the brim with things. There was even her rug all rolled up and thrown above two of the boxes.
Brennan was sitting behind her desk, clicking away at the computer. "What?" she asked distractedly, having to force herself away from the e-mail she was composing to the Smithsonian, to accept their invitation for the dig.
Booth stepped further into the almost empty office. "Why did you pack away your stuff?" he gestured towards the boxes.
Brennan's eyes flickered to the boxes once before returning to her computer screen. "Oh, that," she said flatly. "I'm leaving."
Booth started at her words, swiveling around from where he had stood looking at the empty shelves, to stare at her. "Wait…What?" he asked, shell shocked.
"I'm leaving," Brennan repeated, leaving the finished draft of the e-mail on her computer - all she had to do was proofread it then send, but if there was a fresh crime scene waiting for her, she didn't want to keep it waiting and possible contaminated. She would just have to finish this later. "Would you mind waiting for a few minutes? I need to go to the ladies' room. I won't be long."
Booth shook his head, waving the file he gripped in his hand madly. "Whoa, whoa, wait," he said, his voice slightly raised, halting her halfway to the door.
"What? No time for bathroom?" she asked innocently.
He glowered in her direction. "You're leaving! What, when? Why? For how long?"
"Yes, I am. In two weeks time. For a dig that I have been asked to lead, in Greece. It would last approximately twenty months, provided everything go according to plan," Brennan answered his questions in order. Raising an eyebrow, she deadpanned, "Can I go to the bathroom now?"
"No!" he answered incredulously. "You don't just slip in 'I'm leaving for two years' in casual conversation!"
She frowned at him. "Well, I really don't see why not," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not a big deal. I'm coming back."
"In two years time," he stressed.
She rolled her eyes. "That is an incorrect exaggeration - I would only be gone for twenty months," she corrected him.
Booth exhaled loudly, stepping forward and dropping the file he was holding on her desk. "Bones, it's a big deal," he said in that forced calm voice of his that she knew meant he was anything but calm. "Okay? I mean, uh, how would you feel if I were to suddenly pack up and tell you I was leaving for two years tomorrow?"
"It's not tomorrow," she said immediately. "It's in two weeks. I planned on telling you tomorrow at Parker's soccer game."
"Oh, that's better."
Brennan was starting to grow frustrated. "You know what, Booth, I am a grown woman," she snapped. "I don't have to ask you for permission every time I want to do something. Now, if you'll excuse me, we have a crime scene waiting and I really have to pee!"
Booth watched with wide, disbelieving eyes as his partner - for the next two weeks only, apparently, he scoffed sarcastically - stormed out of her office to head to the ladies' room.
Suddenly weary, Booth walked the few steps needed to sink down on her should-be-illegal-it's-so-comfortable office chair.
The first thing he noticed was the e-mail that her computer was still open to. His eyes ran over the words she'd typed so eloquently, thanking this 'Smithsonian Museum' for the opportunity to lead such an impressive dig, and how she would be more than happy to oblige.
Booth dropped his head back against the backrest of the chair, sighing heavily.
It had been two and a half months since their return to DC. Two and a half months since everything had fallen into place and smoothed over, like everything would be just fine now. There was a certain undercurrent, a certain 'calm before the storm' feeling he'd had once or twice, but nothing had come of it and now he was ignoring the signs.
Maybe it had been stupid of him to so, especially when they concerned a certain unpredictable partner of his. Look at what she had under her sleeve now - telling him about her trip when she was all packed up and ready to send an e-mail to some stuffy boring old museum.
They were finally, finally, getting back to almost being 'Booth and Bones' again. They were almost there, so close he could almost taste it. They were almost back to being the way they were. And she was leaving him.
This wasn't a six weeks trip, either. This was an entire two years away from DC. God, just the thought of her being gone that long…
Booth shook his head, letting his tired eyes fall on the stupid e-mail again.
Without thinking, his fingers flew to her keyboard, one pointer finger poised over the 'backspace' button.
No, I can't do this, Booth tried to plead with his more rational, more angelic side. It was wrong to rewrite her email…Even if his heart was screaming at him to do everything he could to stop her from leaving. It was wrong.
Before he could pull his fingers away, however, they were already flying across the keyboard, rewriting certain parts of the e-mail so that the words were 'thankful for the opportunity, but unable to oblige' instead. It's just a draft, he convinced himself as he typed.
"Booth! Let's go!" he heard, his head snapping up as he saw Brennan storming towards her office from the platform. He stood up abruptly from behind her desk, his fingers fumbling with the keys.
"Oh, crap!" Booth muttered harshly, when his finger accidentally hit 'enter'.
'MESSAGE SENT' flashed across the screen, and his jaw dropped. Oh no, oh no, oh no, he chanted over and over internally.
He almost vaulted to the other side of her desk in an attempt to put himself as far away from the 'crime of the scene' as possible. He grabbed the manila folder he'd dropped on her desk earlier, gripping it with both hands as Brennan grabbed her coat and the forensics kit she kept by her door.
"Ready?" Brennan looked at him.
Booth winced at the thought of those sharp eyes glaring at him once she found out what he'd done. "Yeah," he said sullenly. This is what I get for listening to the devil instead of the angel, he chided himself, sulking as he followed her out the door.
Brennan, oblivious to his internal ramblings or what he had just done in her office, was staring straight ahead, walking side by side with Booth as she'd done for the past two and a half months.
The feel of his warm hand, pressed against the small of her back, guiding her towards the exit, startled her. She shot him a sideways look, but he wasn't paying any attention to her, a frown on his face and a furrow between his eyebrows.
"So where's the body at?" she asked, jolting Booth out of his thoughts.
He looked over to her, taking in a deep breath and letting it out quickly. "Uh…A couple got home from their vacation and found a rotting corpse in their bedroom," he said, blinking his eyes a few times to clear his head from the deadly mistake he'd just made. "They said they didn't have anyone come by to house-sit, and no one but their parents have spare keys and all of them are alive."
Brennan nodded, "We should hurry. I don't want the remains to be compromised."
And even as he bantered with her, no longer preoccupied with whatever it was that had gotten him so distracted moments ago, Brennan was pleased to note that his hand remained at the small of her back.
Just like old times.
Brennan was juggling carrying a cup of coffee from the café across the street from her apartment, a bunch of files for the authentication of a mummy in a new exhibit she had been asked to oversee, and reading a folded up newspaper all at the same time as she walked down the hallway of the Jeffersonian, heading to her lab.
"Sweetie!" she heard, and didn't even look up to greet her friend. "Ugh, what happened to 'good morning, Angela, how are you today'?"
"Good morning, Angela, how are you today?" Brennan intoned, looking up briefly to shoot Angela a sarcastic smirk.
Angela rolled her eyes but chuckled at the same time. "Stop reading and walking, sweetie," she chided. "You're going to trip over something."
"There's nothing to trip over, Ange," she waved her friend's concern away.
Angela sighed, but let it go anyway. "So, I was pleasantly surprised when Cam told me the big news - I mean, I expected to hear it from you myself, but I know how you sometimes zone out on things like this…"
Brennan gave Angela a confused look. "Ange, what are you…?" she trailed off, her jaw dropping as they entered her office. "Wha…Who put all my things back into place?" she demanded, a little angry. She wasn't all too comfortable with people touching her things without permission, and the fact that she had to repack everything annoyed her.
Angela rolled her eyes. "That new intern, Bailey," she answered promptly. "Cam announced that you wouldn't be leaving after all, and she got overly excited…Sweetie? Sweetie, where are you going?"
Brennan ignored Angela, dropping her coffee, files and newspaper on her desk - her desk which were covered with her personal belongings, just like her shelves and her bookcase - and storming out of the office to have a chat with Cam.
"Cam!" she called out loudly, swiping her access card and jogging up the steps to the platform.
Cam, who had been standing next to Wendell, standing over a mostly fleshy body, looked up. "Oh, good morning, Dr.-"
"Why did you tell everyone I was staying?" she interrupted.
Cam's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "Because you are," she answered, confused. "I received an e-mail from the Smithsonian saying how sorry they were that you couldn't join them."
Brennan stared at Cam with a blank expression on her face. "Is this a joke?" she demanded. "I'm going. I packed. I wrote an e-mail…" she trailed off, thinking about the odd incident a few days ago when she had returned to her office after going to the crime scene with Booth only to discover that her e-mail had been sent. She had thought nothing of it - perhaps she had sent it by accident, which was just fine since her draft was complete, anyway - but could it be…?
Without a word to Cam or Wendell, Brennan turned on her heel to rush down the platform and headed straight to her office.
She passed by Angela, who was sashaying her way towards the platform to see what all the fuss was about. When she noticed 'Whirlwind Brennan' headed in the opposite direction, she threw up her hands in frustration. "Pick a direction, sweetie," she grumbled for no one to hear, turning back to follow Brennan into her office.
She found Brennan behind her desk, clicking away at her computer, searching for a saved draft of her e-mail. When she found it, she clicked 'print' and turned around to face her printer, snatching the paper as soon as it slipped out.
To the directors of the Greece expedition
Smithsonian Museum
I thank you for your courteous words regarding my latest find in Maluku Islands. I am grateful for the recognition given by the established Smithsonian institute.
I am thankful for the opportunity presented to me by your board of directors concerning the upcoming dig to Greece. However, I am sorry to say that I must decline and cannot oblige this particular request due to conflicting schedules…
Brennan gasped as she re-read the paper in her hand. Parts of it she recognized as words she herself had written, but some of them had been changed to decline the invitation rather than accept.
How could this have happened? How could it have possibly been changed? She had been the one to compose it - she had sent it right away after composing it, even if it was by accident…
Brennan's train of thought trailed off as she thought about the day she had sent the e-mail.
Booth had been there, in her office, interrupting her while she'd written the e-mail, getting all upset over her 'sudden' revelation that she was leaving for a dig for two years. She'd distinctly remember making a decision to just leave the e-mail on her computer to proofread later on before sending. She had just assumed she'd accidentally pressed 'send' when she'd come back to her office to see the message 'MESSAGE SENT' on her screen.
"That bastard," she growled, staring at the faulty e-mail.
Angela, who had seen Brennan's expression grow darker and heard her cursing under her breath, stepped forward slightly, tentatively. "Sweetie?" she called out softly. "What's wrong?"
"I didn't refuse to go on the dig, Angela, that's what's wrong!" Brennan burst out, feeling a very strong wave of anger rising in her. Her blood felt like it was boiling, her eyes flashing dangerously.
Angela looked confused. "Wait, what? Cam said she got an e-mail from…"
"I know she did," Brennan cut her off. "I didn't send that e-mail, Angela. I wanted to go. We just went shopping yesterday. Why would I do that if I had no intention of going?"
Angela attempted a weak grin and an equally weak joke. "Well, Bren, there really is no shame in shopping for no reason whatsoever," she tried. When Brennan didn't even crack a small smile at that, Angela sighed. "Well, if you didn't refuse, who did?"
"Booth!"
"Someone called my name?"
Angela and Brennan both turned their heads to see Special Agent Seeley Booth, walking into the lion's den. He had seemed jovial at first, but one look at Brennan's livid face made him falter. He had been waiting for her to find out about his mistake for days now, and every time he saw these past few days - which was a lot, considering their new case - he had been jumpy and terrified she was pretending to be nice just so she could get close enough to karate chop him to death.
Angela, picking up on her sixth sense that there was about to be one very big blow-up, started backing towards the exit. "Uh, I'm just going to leave you two alone," she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "To…Talk."
Booth grabbed Angela's wrist when she was close enough. "Angela, please stay," he said in a mock cheerful tone, his dark eyes pleading with her.
Angela gently shook her hand free from his grip. "Sorry, Agent Studly," she whispered so Brennan - who had taken to pacing angrily with her hands on her hips - "I'm not going to be your human shield against that explosion."
And with those ominous parting words, Angela scurried out of the door and as far away from Brennan's office as humanly possible.
Booth, gulping, turned back towards Brennan. "Hey, Bones," he said, his tone carefully light and pleasant. "What's up…?"
"Don't you 'what's up' me!" Brennan hissed, storming over to him with anger so prominent in her gray-blue eyes, making it seem almost ethereal-looking, that he had a sudden urge to step back.
Or kiss her, he thought randomly. Catching himself, he shook himself out it. Fear makes people think crazy thing, he assured himself.
"What the hell is this?" Brennan demanded, waving the printed e-mail draft in his face.
Although he was pretty sure he knew exactly what was on the piece of paper, he took it from her hand and read it anyway - there was no point in outing himself to her earlier than necessary if it wasn't what he thought it was.
But, as luck would have it, his eyes fell on the words she had written and he had re-wrote and sent in a moment of panic. "Uh…" he trailed off, hoping to buy himself some time from her oncoming wrath as he tried to hide the guilt he knew was written all over his face.
Brennan wasn't waiting for him to reply, however. "It's a letter, Booth," she explained to him in a loud, sarcastic tone. "Given to me by the directors of the Greek expedition, telling me how damn sorry they are that I can't join them on their very prestigious, very coveted excavation!"
He faked surprised enthusiasm at her words, "Well, I had no idea you were gonna stay, Bones! Bright side - diner pie here is way better than it probably is in Greece, huh?"
Brennan glowered at him, ignoring his words. "Only problem is," she continued. "I never sent them that email they received. I never said 'no'. In fact, I remember very distinctly writing a draft saying 'yes', which I left on my computer that day you were in my office, alone!"
This time, he did take a step back. "Bones…" he tried to calm her down, both hands placed in front of him, either to stave off an attack or in a gesture of surrender, he wasn't quite sure.
Brennan only stepped closer to him, unafraid to step right into his face and invade his personal space. "I mean, I got back and there was a note on my computer saying the letter had been sent and I thought 'hmm, maybe I pressed 'sent' already so fine, one more thing crossed off my list', but you rewrote it!" her voice had risen several octaves, and Booth could see a few employees outside wearing the standard blue Jeffersonian Medico-legal lab coat pausing to watch the scene.
His partner, however, was oblivious to them. She continued to glower at him with the most livid expression he had ever seen on her - and lemme tell ya, not a pleasant feeling to be on the receiving end of it, he commented to himself.
"You freakin' rewrote my freakin' email and you freakin' sent it to them!" Brennan had clenched her hands into tight fists and, with every angry word spoken, she had pounded her fist against Booth's chest. "What the hell is the matter with you!"
His chest starting to hurt from her not-so-gentle punches, he reached out, letting the paper drift slowly to the ground between them, his hands wrapping around her wrists and holding them so that she couldn't hit him anymore.
"Look, I'm sorry!" he apologized, speaking over her words.
Brennan stopped speaking, and stared up at him. He was surprised to see tears swimming in her pretty eyes, taken aback at the emotion in them. "I'm sorry," he said again, softer this time. "I know that was out of line."
This seemed to get her back to 'rant mode'. "That was beyond out of line, Booth!" she snapped, yanking her hands away from his grasp. "I bought new suitcases. I went on a shopping trip with Angela to get clothes appropriate for the weather. I told Cam. I…"
She stepped back, yielding for the first time since he'd known her, backing a few steps away from him. Her arms wrapped around her midsection in a gesture he was unfamiliar with. His eyebrows drew together as he eyed her posture - she seemed like she was physically holding herself together, keeping herself from crumbling. It was so unlike her, so damn not Temperance Brennan, that it made his heart clench.
"I had it all planned out," she finished, her voice breaking slightly.
Booth, realizing that this conversation was probably deeper than just her anger at him for doing something do ridiculously stupid like rewriting an email for some museum, cleared his throat. He shot a look at the growing crowd of lab-coat-wearing busybodies.
"Bones, maybe we should talk about this somewhere else?" he suggested, tilting his head to the side to indicate their onlookers.
Brennan simply glowered at him. "No!" she snarled. "No, I don't want to talk about this. I want to leave. I want to go to Greece. I want to be somewhere very, very far away from you!"
To say that he was shocked over her words was probably a gross understatement. "Bones!" he said, aghast, hurt by her words.
But she was already leaving the office, snarling at the crowd outside her office to 'get the hell back to work before I see to it that you're not only fired, but blacklisted from every decent institute in America!'
Once his shock had waned enough for him to move, he rushed out the door and ran down the now empty hallway to search for her. She was already gone, and he turned his head around frantically, looking for a sign of her.
The only person he did find was Sweets, strolling into the lab with a bewildered expression on his face. "Hey, Booth," he greeted the irate agent. "Did you know why Dr. Brennan just left looking like she's about to literally bite off the heads of any…Booth? Booth, I don't think she's in a good mood, you shouldn't go…" Sweets trailed off, watching as Booth ran off in the direction of the lab exit.
Shaking his head, he mentally commented how Booth had no idea what he was getting himself into.
Booth, who had caught sight of Brennan crossing the Jeffersonian gardens, pumped his legs faster, catching up to her easily even if she had been storming off as quickly as she could, arms crossed over her chest and head bowed.
"Bones!" he called out to her, anger seeping into his voice as he did so. What he did was out of line, but he hadn't deserved the words she'd thrown at him. "Bones!"
She didn't answer him, and pretended as though she didn't hear him. He reached her, his hand wrapping around her arm and turning her around. "Bones, that was cruel, what you said," he told her, hurt and anger lacing his words.
If it had been anyone else, bar Parker, he would've been able to handle it. But she was Brennan, his partner, his best friend. It was different.
"Well, it's true," she insisted stubbornly, once again yanking her arm from his grip. She couldn't have him touching her when she was this close to breaking down. "I want to not be around you. Okay?"
Booth shook his head. What the hell kind of a question is that? "No, not okay," he answered incredulously. "Bones, I know you're mad at me, but come on…I'll write a freakin' apology letter to the museum if you-"
Brennan barked out a harsh laugh, blinking her eyes a few times to clear her vision, clouded from with tears. Unfortunately for her, instead of blinking them away, her tears started to spill down her cheeks. "Oh, come on, Booth," she shook her head at him trying to insist this was about the email even now. "You're you. You read people for a living. You read me like an open book. You know this isn't about the dig."
Booth fell silent, his feet halting from moving closer still to her.
Yes, he knew. He'd known since the moment he'd seen the pain in her eyes when he'd told her the first time about Hannah, about being in love. He'd seen it every time she smiled at him when he spoke about Hannah because, dammit, even a year apart couldn't erase everything he had learned about her and that smile wasn't real, wasn't a genuine, happy smile.
So he knew.
He'd known since the beginning, even knew that she'd convinced herself that she was fooling him even though she knew better. But he'd stayed silent through it all, letting her pretend and letting himself pretend that he didn't know, because he just wasn't ready to re-hash it all out. To go there all over again.
And why should he? He had Hannah. He was in love. He was happy. He didn't have to go there if he didn't want to, and he didn't want to. Not when 'there' was filled with pain and heartache and one-sided love. Not when 'here' was filled with joy and obliviousness and loving kisses.
Maybe, just maybe, deep down, he kept quiet because some small part of him wanted Brennan to hurt the way he had hurt. It was wrong, and selfish, but he was allowed to be selfish. He was allowed when he had hurt for so long over her.
But now he was standing there, just barely a foot away from her, and there were tears spilling from her blue eyes, and there was heartbreak written all over her…And he wanted to weep.
"Bones…" he whispered, almost reaching out to wipe the tears from her eyes. Almost.
Brennan was embarrassed to let a sob escape her mouth. Biting down on her lower lip, she shook her head, swallowing hard a few times so that she could speak without the lump in her throat. "We were…We were doing just fine," Brennan said, her watery eyes flying to his. "But then Sweets came along with his stupid book and you said you loved me."
Her arms wrapped tighter around herself. "You stood there, and you told me 'I love you', and you're Booth. You're Booth, which means that even though I never said it, you know I felt it," she knew there was no going back from this. There was no pretending that the words she were saying, that she was going to say, never spilled from her lips. But she couldn't stop. The dam had broken again, and he was there to witness it all.
Booth squeezed his eyes shut at her words. "Bones," he said, his voice firm but soft. A plea, a warning, not to say anything else because if she did, he would, too, and this just wasn't the right time.
It would never be the right time, because goddamit, it still hurt him if he thought about it. It would hurt even more saying it all out loud and he wasn't ready.
He just wasn't ready.
Being the woman he had loved so deeply, so damn completely that it had consumed him from the inside out, she, of course, didn't listen to him.
With determination in her eyes, she continued, "But I couldn't deal with it because I'm not Booth. I'm Brennan. I'm the really weird, really awkward scientist so I said 'I can't'."
Here, she started to laugh, a tearful, almost crazed laugh that showed him just how hurt she was.
Shaking her head, she said, "And for all that you claimed to love me, you could just…Say you were moving on. And you did. You moved on, and that's great Booth because if anyone deserved that it's you, but it hurts okay? It hurts all the time."
Brennan looked down, licking her dry lips in an attempt to speak next without sobbing her words out like she had been doing the past few minutes.
"And I know it's my fault," she admitted, her voice soft. "It's my fault for not saying yes but what else could I do? If I'd said yes, I would've ended up screwing it all up because that's what I do best. And you're the one thing in my life I can't screw up."
"We can't do this," Booth interrupted her, his own tears forming in his eyes. "Not now, Bones. Not here. I…I can't do this. Not again-"
"So I went to Indonesia, and you went to Afghanistan, and while I was there, in some stupid remote jungle, all I could think about was you," she confessed, her voice rising again as she spoke, fingers flying to her face to swipe at the tears continuously streaming down her cheeks every few seconds. "And I'm still nowhere near being the perfect woman for you, which was why I'm sad but happy you found Hannah. She's the perfect woman for you, and I get that."
"Don't mention her," he shook his head. "Don't mention her when it's us we're talking about. Not when it's like this."
Brennan stared at him, feeling a certain kind of nausea building up in her stomach, "But it just hurts watching you with her. My heart feels like it's raw, like it's really bleeding, though I know it's not scientifically true."
Above them, the clouds opened up, and rain started to fall from the heavens. They were soaked to the skin within seconds, but neither cared. Neither moved from where they stood face to face, neither even thought to seek cover.
"Then they called," she continued, sniffling and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "And they said 'come to Greece' and I thought 'there's my chance. There's my chance to get the hell away from Booth' because I stood on the sidelines and I watched you being in love and it fucking hurts. Okay! It hurts! So I put on a stupid smile on my face and I told you I was leaving."
Her fist flew out, and she hit him just once more on the shoulder. He was brought back cruelly to the time he'd just been reinstated after his coma, when he'd told her for the first time that he loved her - only to take back the romantic meaning behind his words by adding an 'atta girl' behind them.
Only this time, it wasn't a playful punch. It was a real punch, borne out of hurt, meant to hurt. "Why couldn't you just let me leave? Why did you have to screw with that? You moved on, Booth, and I'm just trying to do the same here! God, what the hell do you want from me!"
She turned to leave, her shoulders racking with sobs, and this time, he didn't fight the urge to pull her back.
His hands went to her shoulders, and he spun her around, his fingers wrapping around her thin upper arms. "I'm not the bad guy here!" he protested. Her scoff made him madder. "No, you hurt me. You hurt my heart first. I was so lost for the longest time, Bones. And you were the reason. You were the reason."
"Stop," this time she was the one saying it, half-heartedly pushing at his chest.
He shook his head. "No, no I won't stop. You wanted to do this, so fine, we're gonna do this - I loved you for so long, and all I got out of that was my heart being broken. And then I did go to Afghanistan, and my heart continued to hurt. But then Hannah came along."
"Stop!" she said more firmly, shaking her head as she dropped it, breaking their eye contact. "I don't want to listen anymore."
"Hannah came along," he ignored her. "And she was a light in all the darkness, so I loved her for it. She makes me happy even when you had broken me."
His hands, wrapped around her upper arms, shook her slightly. "Do you know what it was like for me? Do you! To love you so much, and tell you that, and have you just…Walk away!"
"I did that for you!" she shouted, successfully shoving him away from her. He stumbled a little on the wet grass before regaining his balance. "I did that for you, because you deserved a hell of a lot better."
He shook his head, running a hand down his face. "You know what, Bones? Maybe I do," his words cut through her like the sharpest knife. "Maybe I do deserve someone who wouldn't make a decision that important for me."
Booth stepped towards her again, his hands cupping the sides of her wet hair, his forehead dropping to hers, "I loved you. I loved you, and you hurt me. I am not the bad guy."
They stared into each other's eyes, their tears mingling with the rain as they fell, their foreheads still pressed together.
"I loved you," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
Brennan's eyes drifted close and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't," she said after a while, her tone matching his - reverently pained.
Booth lifted his forehead from hers, pressing a kiss to her forehead because 'I can't', in Brennan-speak, was 'I love you'. His lips lingered on her skin for the longest time, his own eyes fluttering close as he took in the sweet smell of her, not lost even in the rain, until he felt her body start to shake.
Pulling away, he saw that her eyes were rimmed red. He was close enough to see the drops of tears spilling from them. "I have to not be around you right now," she told him on a strangled whisper, stepping away from him. "It's why I wanted to go. I wanted to…I wanted to not see you all the time. Maybe, then, I could learn to not love you anymore."
He tried to tell himself that the fact that his heart broke just a little bit more at that thought, that his own tears began to spill again, meant absolutely nothing.
When that didn't work, he chose to ignore his tears instead.
His hand lifted, automatically going to her wet cheeks to brush at her tears - a stupid thing to do, considering they were standing out in the pouring rain, anyway.
Brennan took a step back, shying away from his touch. "Please, don't," she shook her head, swallowing thickly. "Not when…I just…I can't."
He nodded, as though this was perfectly fine with him.
"I have to go," she whispered, turning away from him and walking away from him towards the Jeffersonian parking lot.
Booth watched her leave, his knees growing so weak that he had to tentatively drag himself to the stone bench just a few feet from where he stood. His eyes were fixed on Brennan's retreating figure, his gaze remaining on the spot where he saw her last long after she'd gone. He stayed seated on the stone bench, unaware of the time, not even really aware of his thoughts, just words they had spoken to each other moments before swimming through his head.
It wasn't until the sky began to darken in the unmistakable sign of evening that he realized that he had stayed frozen in spot the rest of the day. The rain had cleared, what little sun there was had begun to set, his clothes were dry.
He sighed, dropping his gaze from where he had been staring, the image of her walking away still imprinted in his mind for some reason.
Booth lifted his hand to run it down his tired face. He reared his head back, surprised, when his fingers came back wet. He realized with a start that he was still crying.
"Though lovers be lost, love shall not."
Dylan Thomas.