Hi. I'm back, apparently. Thanks for the reviews, they make me happy -how original of me, right?
It took me longer than I thought to get this chap out, but here it is. Hope you like it, if you don't that's fine too.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, I'm making no money with this.

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The following days Booth found himself alternating between calmly accepting that it hadn't been all his fault, that things happen between adults; and hating himself for what he had thought, what he had done and for his weakness lapsing into those moments of self forgiveness. He would stare at Bones for minutes at the time. Sometimes with fascination, as if she exuded magic. In those moments, he could build up the courage to ask her if she was healing OK. Which to an extent was uncomfortable for them both, but somehow the gesture had more meaning because of it. Other times... other times he would look at her, watch her fluent moves as she sat or walked or talked on the phone or typed or basically did anything, including breathing. How could he had called her those names? Why on Earth had he thought of her as a bitch? So, she had sex with guys she didn't love. So does most people. He could have said it wasn't the way God intended it, but that was bull and he knew it. Sure, he preferred sex to be had with people one shared feeling with, but he had been no saint. And yet the cascade of dark feelings and hurtful words towards her had been unstoppable. During those moments he would feel a million needles pricking his stomach.

Brennan noticed his fluctuating state of mind, as did everyone within a 10 miles radius from wherever he was standing. She could understand part of it, the part that had come to her house and quietly asked for forgiveness. She had taken it as a normal event that the guilt remained with him for a few days after that. But time passed and Booth continued in that switching mood, regardless of her efforts to be normal, to go back to their previous dynamic. She bantered and bickered as usual, and thought it seemed to work most of the time, at any given moment she would turn in a middle of a phrase and realize he wasn't listening, he was looking at her, pass her, absentmindedly, his face contorted, frowning at something. Then she would shut up, purse her lips tight and wait for him to come out of this state. All of her new found confidence, all of her certainties were slowly but constantly dripping away.

Friday night two weeks after his visit to her apartment, and Brennan hadn't heard a word from him since Wednesday afternoon when they had closed their last case. It wasn't that she was expecting him to call just to talk, but she had grown fond of the Good weekend calls. She would say she was going to work –yes, she was that much fun- , he would childishly announce all the things he would do there's a game tomorrow, Bones, and who has tickets? Hehehe! Or I am taking Parker to the movies when there was one of those movies for kids he enjoyed more than his son.
She checked her watch and confirmed that it was actually late. That was the reason for most lights to be off and the building so silent. She had spent the last three hours reviewing limbo cases' reports Wendell had prepared and she had lost track of time. She considered the possibility of staying and finishing the pending reports, but she had that uncomfortable sensation on the pit of her stomach. She thought she might be hungry.

It was unintentional, and she would attribute it to routine if asked. But she was glad when, pushing the door open, she saw him, back slightly hunched, sitting at the bar.
"Hi" She said in a low, almost confidential tone she sometimes used, leaning a little towards him as she sat on the stool.
"Hi, Bones" He replied quietly. He didn't look up, he was playing with his bottle and staring at the plastic chip in front of him.
She got a beer and returned her eyes to Booth. He had only lifted his eyes from the chip to drink. With her mouth shrugged to the left, to Booth, and her gaze flying from him to the chip, back to Booth, back to the chip, she thought she should ask. "Do you have the urge to gamble?"
He smiled weakly, short direct question, so characteristic of hers "No. I honestly don't. I was just thinking"
"What about?" Brennan asked in that quick manner that was an attempt to get him to talk before she took a sip from her bottle . She missed it, she missed his heartfelt confessions, the way he didn't look at her when including her in his grieves, as if the simple gesture of listening made things better for him while reassuring her he trusted her.
Booth missed it too. And he might take her up on that tacit proposal, for he felt the pressure of his secrets starting to brake him. He wouldn't do it here, though, not at the pub where any of their friends could walk in any second, just like she had. "Were you missing me?" He asked in stead, with the obvious intention of shifting the conversation away from his thoughts.
She hesitated for an instant, unsure of this being the right time to say it, but she had already admitted it, playfully or not, in numerous occasions "No..." She said with the gleam in her eyes that was a convention for yes, of course, dummy, so sweet in its rareness that he could have melted right there and that, at the same time, widened the hole in his chest.
He smiled only for her. Only because it was the least he could do after what he had done, what he could do. A sideways look at her and and he covered his eyes with his right hand, sighing. Calling her a bitch and a whore. He should go to Church, but it wouldn't be enough. A priest would do nothing for him, God had left him alone in the obscureness of his being.
Brennan had failed to cheer him up. It was not one of her skills, it was his. He had always been able to bring her to smile with a little phrase or an action. Brennan was more the kind of straight forward compassionate person. With him, with others, not so much. "I'm sorry" She said.
That shocked him and made him feel small, very small. What had she done, other than being light he had decided to dim out? "What? Why?"
Brennan had not thought it through. But she was sorry, therefore there had to be a reason "You're sad. I am sorry you're sad"
He put money on the bar without saying a word. He needed air, he felt tied up, he had to get out before he did somethig stupid. Brennan wasn't sure if that was a cue to follow him or to leave him alone. But the bills said he was paying for both beers, so she followed.
Booth was already walking when she reached the street. Hurrying her steps, she wondered why it was so difficult for her to just wrap her hand around his arm. It would be so easy to let the momentum she had from her little trotting do the work, it could even be perceived not as her intention, but as an aid to keep her balance. And yet, she could not do it. He did it all the time, he acted as if her back and her shoulders were somehow his to guide, to grab, to delicately lead in a non possessive manner. It was, like the glances, the type of thing that made her think that maybe he would kiss her. Curling her mouth downwards a little, she thanked herself for choosing a coat with pockets where she could jam her hands when there was nothing better to do.

They walked in silence, passing by groups of laughing friends, couples with those stupid smiles on their face as if nothing in the world mattered as long as they were together. People being people, happy, living their lives, having all the things he didn't have, he couldn't have. People sharing looks, sharing lives. People that glowed, that had no problems. He knew better, he knew everyone has problems, but they seemed so... fine. Looking at them, Booth's pain was replaced by envy. It crept form a place in the small of his back up to his neck, it felt like fire on his back. They had it and he couldn't. They were happy and he wasn't. They didn't have rage waiting to explode, they didn't have misogynistic thoughts that weren't even his own stored in their brains. They could hold the woman that walked next to them without the fear of harming her. They could go back home and never doubt if their kids would be in danger because of them. Goddamn assholes! They probably did and weren't aware. He wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shake some sense in them. How could they be so sure? He had been just as sure as they were. He had never thought he could have that much anger inside, or that he would let it break loose on Bones. Now, he couldn't know what other darkness he had within that hadn't yet met its switch. Those people, they didn't have to live with calling her a whore. And Bones, walking by his side, just as unaware as the rest of them, ignoring she was wasting her compassion on a monster. Stupid Bones, being uncharacteristically sweet, making everything worse by saying it wasn't his fault, that she didn't mind the scratches. Damn Bones, handing him redemption in the form of an apology! So fucking perfect, so fucking brilliant and rational! Fucking Bones, being so utterly Bones! What the hell was she doing with him? "Damn it, Bones!" He spatted stopping abruptly.
Brennan had been lost in her own thoughts "What?" She asked almost alarmed.
"Damn it, Bones! Why you have to be like that?" he said flopping his hand.
Her eyes were rounded as she looked at him, anger darkened his "What? Be like what?"
That little question made the pressure grow inside "Like that!" Like that, all perfect, all forgiving, all understanding, all beautiful under the street lights, staring at him without fear as if he was normal "Like that! Fine with everything!"
"I don't understand" She honestly didn't. She didn't know why he was so upset.
He took a step towards her and she didn't flinch. Why would she flinch when he tried to be delicate and touch her face but not when he was being an animal? Oh, because she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. The bomb in his chest was begging to go off "You wanna know?"
"Yes, I want to know why you're being so irrational" She said lifting her chin just a little, this display of whatever it was she did not appreciate.
"Because I fucked you as if you were worthless!" God, not again, she thought. "And all you have to say is it wasn't my fault? What's wrong with you?" God, not the exact same argument again, she thought. Booth continued as she stared at him in motionless silence "I tore you and it happens? I call you a whore, a bitch that can be fucked by any asshole and you say you choose?" Wait, when had he called her a that? Booth percieverd the reaction, the minimal frowning and he knew he had hit the jackpot. "Yes, all those times I was fucking you like an animal I was thinking the bitch likes it"
That was insulting. That was unnecessary, that was a chip shot, and even when she knew it, there was a spark inside her, fast pumped blood warmed her arms. Her jaw shifted to the right and she looked down. Brennan was doing everything in her power not to answer, not to indulge him in this idiotic behaviour.
He saw it, he saw her rage being ignited, he knew how it felt, how powerful it was and how good it was to let it out. And he wanted her to let go, to hit him, to brake some of his worthless limbs. Torn between the desire to hurt her, to be hurt by her, to protect her from him, burning inside, wishing she would loath him as much as he did he added "What? Are you gonna tell me that's not my fault either? Are you saying you are a heartless slut?"
Time froze. She was no longer in the space time continuum. Many things could set her off into a fast, mad, furious discussion. Many things could bring her to the edge of wanting to hit someone. But few, very few things could actually break her.
Oblivious, he started to walk in circles. Why couldn't she punish him? Why couldn't she just yell at him that he was a rat, that she was not a slut nor a heartless bitch and that he should never again see her for he was not worthy of her? Irritated, hating her for her lack of self preservation instincts, of self respect, he didn't notice her multiple changes. "God!" he said.
Brennan didn't hear him, staring as she was at nothing, at some point somewhere in front of her, or inside her. She felt stripped out of her flesh, cold and hot at the same time, numbed and electrified. She blinked a couple of times, but it felt as if it took minutes for her eyelids to go down and up again. Her brain was in short-circuit, unable to connect dots, to link ideas. There was only one thing, one word bouncing inside her skull. Just as she had slipped into that state, she snapped out. "You're an..." But her voice didn't rise up. The lump on her throat prevented it. And she was glad.
There he was, walking, waiting for something, and all she could do was try and keep herself together. Her hands were fisted in her pockets, her arms slightly jerking due to the adrenaline rush, and a mix of things washed her over. She wanted to hit him, to kick in on the shins, to slash his flesh with a knife, to make him pay for this betrayal. He had said he wouldn't betray her, he had said many things, and for some stupid reason she had chosen to believe them, to believe him. Brennan wanted to take the imaginary knife and cut deep into her skin so the sting of exposed flesh would cover everything else.
Booth finally stopped his aimless walk. His eyes shot fire at her. In hers there was something he could not recognize. For a split second he was almost proud of himself, but he remembered the openness those same eyes gave him, and only him, more often than not. However, he it was right, she should be furious, she should hate him. He was furious out of his brain for everything, for being born and ending up being this jerk, this force of nature that destroyed perfection in every possible manner. And yet he could not stop. "Are you going to say something or what?"
There was a thunder from her eyes to his. But she knew better than to yell at him, she needed to stay calm. She knew there would be no coming back if she lashed out. No one would be able to convince her to forgive him -or herself- because Booth was the only person that had ever been able to bring her, out of his sheer faith, to risk herself to be hurt or abandoned again. But she had to let him know. "You are an idiot"
When you shake a bottle of soda and twist the cap open, there's only a very small amount of gas you can let out before the geyser comes out in all its power. Booth had shaken the bottle, but she had been stupid enough to keep the cap loose for longer than safe. Too many syllables, and she was unable to twist it tight again "You are a selfish bastard! Why did you have to tell me that?"
Booth had antagonistic feelings, he despised himself for throwing this verbal punches at her, but it was for the best, he had to push her away "Because it's the truth! Because that's what I was thinking!" Her eyes, her big blue warm eyes were now cold and locked. So different from the ones that had stared at him when he was examining her. But he needed his punishment and, damn it! so did she for not acknowledging at the propper time that it shouldn't had happened that way "And you seek the truth, so there you have it! All I was thinking when I was doing you was what a whore you are!"
Why was he telling her these things now?Brennan had learned from him and there was something other than rage, something she had already seen on him. Index pointing at him with the power of a fire gun, she retorted "You, goddamn selfish bastard! This" and her right hand made a circular motion between them "This has nothing to do with me! This is you throwing you're guilt at me. This is you cleaning your conscience!"
"No, you moron!" both of his hands at her face. He knew it was wrong, beyond wrong, such an utter lie. She was right but his brain had checked out and his gut needed to burn in hell "You, stupid! This happened because you take any available dick without even thinking that you came across like the whore you are!"
Hadn't she said she didn't want to sleep with any other man? Anger filled ammunition fired from her every fiber "You're the moral compass, hypocritical rat? Are you going to tell me that this tantrum of yours is my responsibility? Where was your lovemaking crap when you were doing me? You enjoyed it as much as I did, you're just not man enough to admit it"
He was possessed by his darkness, he had to show her the monster. "I'm not man enough? Do you want me to fuck you right here to prove you wrong?"
What the hell did he think he was? Brennan wanted to knock him down from whatever pillar he had put himself up and she would have just loved to do so with a jab, but her lips were faster "Fuck you, Booth! You think you're so special, but guess what? You're just as basic in your desires as the rest of us! You liked feeling powerful, with your fantasy of subduing me. You wanted to fuck me so the world would know what a big alpha male you are! Well, you're not!"
"I wouldn't say that after those moans of yours!"
"Check it with your non existent omniscient god! See what he says, that is if he says anything at all!" That was a master strike on her part.
"Leave God out of this!"
"You leave your contradictions out, you leave me out! Be rational for once in your life, if we had sex was because you wanted it, if your Catholic guilt got in your way, that's not my problem! What you think or thought is not my problem, it's yours!"
"It has nothing to do with my religion! I hurt you, you asshole! I tore you and bruised you, I was abusive. And you liked it! Because as long as you come there's nothing else that matters!" This bullshit he was spilling was energy flowing out of body, draining him. There were too many feelings crashing, it was overwhelming and exhausting. Booth fought not to let that show on his face.
"You liked it too!" Why wasn't he admitting it?! Brennan wanted to punch him, push him, kick him, kick herself, stab both of them. Damn Booth for denying he wanted her, damn her for believing he did, she continued as well as she could "You wanted to have sex with me! Your stupid love couldn't factor in, well, deal with it!" With that, Brennan strode away.

She was right, this craziness had nothing to do with her. From the beginning, it had had nothing to do with her. It didn't matter now that for a few days she had thought some of it was because of her. It simply wasn't. It had never had. Stupid her for believing otherwise, stupid, stupid, stupid! She should punch herself, she thought as her jaw tightened. Irrationality had overtaken her, she had had a period of idiotic thinking and that was unforgivable. She had briefly forgotten how things really were. From now on she needed to bare in mind that feelings do not exist, that no one ever loves anyone else, that people's interest and care for one another are just as fleeting as everything else. No one can be trusted, or one should just accept that trust means nothing and be always ready for the proverbial stab in the back. Because there was always a spike ready to break through the skin, splinter the ribs and get to the internal organs, where it wiggled and waggled until there was nothing but pulp. Burning pulp, that she could have sworn was oozing from her wounded back.
She could not shake it. She could not brush all those sensations off of her, like mercury poured on silver, they were one with her now. This whole thing was no longer an event in her life, she had the odd feeling that this would, from now on, be a constitutive part of her. That idea infuriated her. How could one event have such an impact? It made no sense, it was not the way things should be. This, like everything else, should not define her. Why would Booth be more important than anyone else? Why would his thoughts be so transcendent? He thought she was a heartless bitch. It certainly wasn't the fist time someone called her heartless, cold, unsympathetic, unattached, insensitive. Neither was it the first time someone referred to her sexual behaviour as that commonly addressed with words such as bitch, whore, slut. Nor was it the first time both concepts had been associated. Damn Booth! Actually, damn her for giving him that much power over her, for making him relevant to the extent of feeling physical pain as a response to mere words. That was the only part of this mess that was her fault. And why had she done that? She was smarter than that. She wasn't the kind of person that falls in love and that fails to see any defect on the other person. Damn! There was not such a thing as love. There could be companionship, friendship, attachment built upon the base of daily interaction. One could grow fond of certain people, feel genuine interest, perhaps even tenderness. But love, the popular notion of love, the love one sees in movies, that did not exist. And damn her once more, thinking about love now! She bit her bottom lip so hard she left teeth marks on it.
Unwillingly, inevitably, she continued that line of thought. Because she had believed Booth thought she was beautiful. She had believed when he said she was special. She had believed when he said she had more than beauty, she was beauty and brains. And when he told her there was someone special for her. She had also believed he was always aware of her appeal. One should not trust words, words are deceiving.
But that was nothing compared to the creations of her own mind, with the certainties she had had that hadn't been born from any evidence. Evidence. The magic word that put everything at a safe distance. It was pointless, having established that feelings did not exist, to focus on hers – not that she had any on this matter, she reminded herself as her entire body trembled with fury. She needed to analyze the evidence.
Not realizing the amazing coincidence between her evidence epiphany and the fact that she had walked back to the Jeffersonian, she entered the building and rushed to her car. The only word that reverberated in her head was EVIDENCE as she drove to her place.

Booth had watched her determined steps as she walked away from him. Bringing both hands to his face, he scrubbed it. She was going, she was gone. He closed his eyes and sighed, it had been exhausting, he didn't have any vital energy left, it had fled away with his words. Had she stayed any longer, had he had to yell again, he would have fallen to the ground. He bent and steadied himself with his hands on his knees. He wasn't nauseous, but he wanted to vomit, to feel the strength of a iron fist around his stomach and the burn of acid up his throat. Had he been the kind of person that screamed out of desperation, he would have. But now that she was gone, that he had hurt her enough to keep her away, he could breath. "I'm not my father, I'm not my father" he said it aloud because he needed to hear it. "I'm not my father". Two blocks he walked repeating it, and five minutes after that until a cab appeared and he signaled the driver to stop.
The driver, a forty-something quite regular man, had looked at Booth's reflection on the review mirror several times before he decided to ask "Tough night?"
Booth was still repeating his mantra and the voice took him by surprise, he didn't want to talk but neither was he in shape to be a hard ass. He blinked "Yeah"
The man smiled sympathetically "She broke your heart?"
Booth scrubbed his face again "Nah... I... I did the breaking" it was barely a string of voice
Lifting his eyebrows, the man responded "That's sometimes tougher" but Booth didn't reply. The driver took the hint and the rest of the ride was silent.
Once Booth arrived to his place, he strolled to his bedroom, undressed leaving his clothes wherever they landed and threw himself on his bed. Within five minutes he was sound asleep.

It was still dark when Booth opened his eyes again. He lifted his head from the pillow before his brain had time to process that there was a noise on the background. What was it? Thump. Thump, thump. Then silence. He closed his eyes. Thump, thump, thump! He opened them again, and a second later Thump, thump!!! Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!!!
Booth didn't want to open the door. Maybe she'd go away. Maybe it was all in his imagination and there had been no knock on the... Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump!!!
As the thumping continued relentlessly, he resigned and walked to the door. He opened it when her knuckles were still machine-gunning the wood.
Booth backed a little at the sight of her moving fist. Brennan froze it in mid air when she realized there was no door to stop it. Her eyes widened and she looked almost embarrassed "I didn't think you were sleeping" the droopy eyes and the lack of clothing other than briefs had told her that. But then Brennan realized that her phrase could be read as if she expected him to be as restless as she had. "I thought you didn't want to see me" She added quickly.
No, he did not. He would have rather for her to stay mad and at her place. But here she was standing, awake, obviously strained and without a trace of anger in her expression. There was something in her eyes, thought, but his brain was too fuzzy to decode exactly what it was. He blinked a few times, resting his arm on the door. She stood in silence, ignoring what to do or say. She had expected a Go away and was ready to push her way in, but this motionless, drowsy Booth had caught her off guard.
Booth stared at her wandering why she had come. Should she be here? Should she be so calm? Because she was very calm, very still. Had she changed her clothing? How much time had passed? Slack as he was in the haze of sleep, he realized after some time that he should let her in, she was here and he had no strength to fight her. So, he let the door opened and walked back to his living-room. Brennan followed.

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It's still OCC, but this chap is a transitional one. I do have a rational explanation, I just need to type it. If you're interested let me know and I'll post it -once it's written that is.
We all love reviews, right? I don't particularly like this chap, so I need some cheering. Lame, I know, very lame...

SttB