'I thought…' Booth once again attempted to articulate the sudden blinding truths causing a maelstrom in his mind. The amount of alcohol he'd consumed tonight muddled his thoughts and tied his tongue in knots. Even if he knew what to say, Booth doubted it would exit his lips in any reasonable language a rational individual understood.

Then, just as suddenly, she got it. Brennan understood the connections between Hannah and herself which Booth attempted to convey.

'You thought Hannah gave me permission to….' Temperance choked on the words, horrified. This one time, Brennan didn't want to read the intent behind the flash of emotion playing across Booths features. Years of being his partner taught Brennan how this man thought, his morality and judgement. Right now, she wished she'd never gained this much insight into his character. She really, really didn't want to get it.

Booth saw it happen in an instant. Right before his eyes, the Temperance Brennan he'd come to know began collecting the shattered remains of the concrete edifice which had once trapped her emotions. She intended to rebuild the walls, more impervious than ever before. He, Seeley Booth would be the cause unless he did something about it. He felt sick, his stomach turning over, wishing he hadn't drunk so much. Maybe then he'd know what to say to her.

'I'm not a consolation prize, Booth,' Brennan spat, anger lacing her words and expression. Deliberately, she fired the words back at him. The same phrase which weeks ago had crushed the last of her impervious nature into dust, leaving a penetrating despondency and bone aching sadness. 'I'm not a consolation prize,' she repeated, eyes flashing angrily.

He didn't want to say it, he didn't mean to say it and yet it came tumbling out anyway. 'And Hannah was?' retaliated Booth in the same vein, suddenly unsure about many of the so called truths he'd clung since returning from Afghanistan.

'I don't know, Booth,' Brennan challenged in an icy tone, 'you tell me?'

Clarity, in a single moment of clarity, Booth capitulated. For once Bones had cut to the emotive heart of the matter. Not something Booth wanted to admit to himself, now or ever, but Hannah had been second best. A year in a war zone, especially for a rejected man, offered comfort by a beautiful blond, the result a forgone conclusion. Bones once told him he had a thing for blonds. Well, he'd proved her right and proved she knew him better than he knew himself. Then Hannah followed him home requesting they resume their relationship. His very nature dictated he see the affaire through to its natural conclusion. Moving in, cohabiting became a reality check, not just for Booth and Hannah, but Bones as well.

Sweets attempted to give Booth all the logical reasons why he shouldn't tell Hannah about Bones confession that rainy night. The night she'd almost been killed and he'd once again been her protector, saving Bones life for the umpteenth time. The same night Temperance Brennan's regrets finally got the better of her. Yet, Booth had almost destroyed his relationship with Hannah revealing Bones confession. Now he saw his honesty through the eyes of Sweets psychology. He couldn't live a life without Temperance Brennan in it. Telling Hannah had been a test, designed to assess the depth of his feelings and their relationship.

They, Booth and Hannah weathered that particular storm. It changed their relationship in subtle ways. A crack formed, caused by Booths need for brutal honesty and his unrealised inner turmoil.

Sweets drunken ramblings about Daisy and marriage could now bee seen for what they really represented. Yet another test, goading Booth into a proposal he neither wanted to make nor expected would be accepted. Hannah knew, Hannah understood even before Booth comprehended the truth. She'd been the consolation prize, the rebound relationship, the woman Booth could turn to until his Bones became strong enough accept his giving heart. Strong enough to conquer the last of her fear allowing her to open her heart for him.

Sweets'd done a job on him. The young psychologist played Booth like a fiddle. Why had everyone else seen it before him? Booth's anger turned inward as he finally accepted he'd been fooling himself.

'Booth?' Brennan's concerned voice finally penetrated his befuddled brain.

'Yeah,' he mumbled, realising the position they'd fallen into. No longer able to keep his arms locked on either side of her, Booth found himself crushing Bones against the wall. 'Sorry,' he muttered, eyes closed against the pain in his head and stomach. He rolled to one side, still loath to release Bones's fingers laced within his. 'I need to lay down, or at least sit'

Taking the physical connection as a positive sign, Brennan spoke softly. 'My car is parked down the street.'