He Shouldn't Have Done That
By: Lesera128
Rated: M
Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.
Summary: Brennan ends her partnership with Booth after she considers his confession to Hannah about her the ultimate betrayal. AU.
Chapter 2 – Two Months After
This year… this year was a very different Christmas than the one I had last year. Last year… last year, I wasn't by myself. My apartment… for the first time since I've ever lived there… my apartment felt like a home… I had a Christmas tree… and everything was decorated… and on Christmas Eve, my table was set with food and surrounded by friends and family. I… I thought, for a moment, that night, maybe I had been wrong… maybe I wasn't destined to be alone all my life. Maybe… maybe… just *maybe* that man I had been waiting for all my life… the one single person who was my other half… somehow, someway, against all the odds, defying every basic tenet and precept of logic and rationality that I've ever accepted as the foundation upon which my life is built - I thought maybe that I *had* been blessed by some benevolent deity and actually found him. And he wanted me, and I wanted him, and no, things weren't moving quiet as fast as they probably needed to... but I thought... I thought, we had time. We would make it work. He knew me well enough to know what I really meant when the words coming out of my mouth were supposed to mean something else. I thought he knew me, and wanted me, and we had time.
Booth sat next to me during dinner, and he smiled at me that smile… and later that night… once everyone had finally gone home… later that night… he stayed. He didn't have any place else to go, and there wasn't any other place that either of us wanted him to be… And we fell asleep on the couch, watching the Christmas tree, and he was still holding me the next morning. It was the happiest Christmas morning I've had since I was a little girl.
This year, though… this year it was going to be a very different type of holiday. You could already tell the difference just by looking at my apartment... the differences between this year and last year. To begin with, there was no Christmas tree. And the decorations remained boxed away in my closest, untouched, unwanted. My dining room table remained unadorned, as no food graced it this year, no friends or family members would sit around it. And since there would be no tree, it didn't really matter that he wasn't there to hold me. The warmth had disappeared from my apartment… and, on this holiday, my apartment no longer masqueraded as a home.
I went to Angela and Hodgin's at her insistence. They did have a tree, and decorations, and happiness… their house was a home, a happy home oozing with excitement in anticipation of their child who was growing in Angela's belly. The thought made me morose, guilty even, for I admit that I envied her... envied them the fact that by this time next year, Angela would be attending to my metaphorical niece or nephew. Many toys would be scattered around the room, stacks of presents sitting in piles of brightly wrapped paper adorned with shiny bows waiting to be torn open for their child, since he or she would still be too little to open any presents by themselves. Next year, I thought… they would be a family… and I wondered if they would have time and room and the desire to extend a courtesy invitation to the morose friend they had once loved so much.
And, so, for next year, I know and I'll plan ahead since I anticipate being alone… and I decided, right then and there that next year, next year it would be time to re-institute *my* tradition of spending the holidays somewhere in the field, digging up bones and making new discoveries. At least then, you didn't have to worry about the pain of the Christmas lights blinking in your eyes or the droning of the same three or four dozen Christmas songs, as they grate on your patience because radio station after radio station continued to recycle their play lists. But, for this Christmas… this Christmas I was stuck here. I took what comfort I could in that as it was definitely better here than with my Dad and Russ and the rest of the family. If I were with them they would never respect me enough to let me at least enjoy the façade of normalcy. With them, I'd never be able to pretend that I was okay, and everything was actually all right.
But, for *this* Christmas… Hodgins' healthy stock of red wine was my friend. And, later that night, after an entire evening where neither one of them said anything about him, or what had happened, or how I had started to change… not one single question was asked, comment was made. But, even still, I could tell - they *were* thinking about it. And, that fact made me love them a little bit more, and hate myself a little bit more, so that the red wine was the only way I had to rectify the two disparate emotions that I needed to rectify, as they stemmed from the same source. I only made a token protest when Angela suggested I spend the night in a guest room before I grudgingly agreed. And, when I climbed the stairs, I took one of the open bottles of red wine with me. A couple of minutes later, I collapsed on a bed in front of a roaring fire place and spent the rest of my Christmas Eve alone, in that guest bedroom, crying myself to sleep with only a mostly emptied red wine to keep me company.
But, at least when I slept… thankfully, I finally got the only Christmas present I ever wanted that year.
This time, when I had finally fallen off to sleep courtesy of my Merlot-induced drunken stupor, thankfully, as I had so desperately wanted, I dreamed, and he was waiting for me… dressed in the same outfit he wore last year... dark button down shirt, dark dress pants, shining smile. This time, we were back on my couch in my apartment, which was, once more in my dreams, no longer just an apartment, but an actual home. We sat in front of my Christmas tree, and he was holding me, a content smile on both our faces as his breathing pattern came to somehow match the beat of my heart.
"Merry Christmas, Bones—"
"It hasn't been a very happy one, until now, Booth," I murmured, snuggling into his embrace.
"Holidays can be hard," he acknowledged.
"Life is hard," I complained.
"Yes, yes it is... but that's sorta the point, Bones," he chuckled.
They were quiet for a moment before she said, "I have to let *you* go, too, you know. I'll never make my peace with myself, heal, and move on if I don't."
"I know," he said. "And you will. When you're ready, you will."
"I feel incredibly stupid and selfish to keep coming here," I murmured.
"Why?"
"Because, I did what I had to do to salvage some respect for myself in the conscious world, and each night that I come here to you, I just wreck all that progress in the unconscious world," I said. Making a face, I then added, "How I hate psychology, particularly self-analysis."
"You're stewing about something," he pointed out. "What's the real reason you're annoyed?"
"I'm not annoyed, but I am... I have been thinking. I-I… do you know what I was thinking about today?" I said, shifting slightly in his arms, a small knot coming into my throat.
He looked down at me and said, "Tell me."
"I… I was thinking about the baby today," I said softly. "If we'd gone through with it… and the baby had actually been born… she would have been a little over a year old this Christmas, you know?"
"She?" he asked softly.
"I… I just… when I think of the baby, I think of it as a girl for some reason," I admitted.
"You're punishing yourself," he observed.
"Maybe a little," I said. "If… if… if my body… hadn't done something… if I hadn't—"
"Miscarriages happen all the time, Bones. Didn't you say that almost 1/5 of all pregnancies end in miscarriage before the woman even knows she was pregnant?" he said quietly.
"Yes," I admitted. "And my head knows that, obviously. Miscarriages that occur that early are the body's way of terminating an abnormal embryo so I know that *something* was obviously wrong with her from a genetic standpoint that didn't make the pregnancy a viable one. But, my heart… my heart is another matter, Booth. I… going ahead with the insemination… I… I wanted to do it… surprise you… tell you that we were having a baby… even on your terms… and, when I found out the insemination had worked, God, you were in such a dark place. I didn't know if I'd do more harm than good by telling you. You were so confused already, and I didn't know what to do... but, I thought I had time. That's been my greatest mistake. I always think I have more time with you than it actually turns out that I do... and, four weeks later… I woke up... cramping and bleeding... and, God, I lost it just a month in… and by that time, I figured what would be the point in telling you, since I had failed... and my body was weak and I failed you... failed the baby. I was, I know I was... I don't know what I did wrong... but I had made some type of mistake, and I lost her, I did.… and you were already having such a hard time…."
"And, so you ran away to the dig in Guatemala?" he pressed.
"Yes," I said. "And that part doesn't bother me quite as much as it once did… But, now, here at Christmas… I know… I *know* if I'd still been pregnant - I would have still been pregnant that night in front of the Hoover when you asked me… what you asked me - and, if we'd had the baby to tie us together… it… I wouldn't have been able to run, push you away. It wouldn't have even been an issue of you having to make me stay and confront things. The baby would have done that for us. And, you wouldn't have started to disappear, started to turn into *him*… and I wouldn't be alone tonight, on Christmas Eve, very drunk on several bottles of very expensive Merlot that I know Hodgins was so sweet to indulge me with… But here I am alone, crying myself to sleep, with no good reason to really wake up tomorrow and treat it like any other day. Not really."
"Those thoughts are too sad, too melancholy for you, Bones," he said softly, stroking my arm. "That's not you, and you know it."
"Maybe it is… Maybe this is who I really am… who I've always been, now that I've stopped pretending," I whispered. "An unfeeling, selfish, arrogant, elitist snob who's masochistic and morose and melancholy and can't do anything right, be the right person to everyone in her life, and so is just better off being alone."
"No, no it's not," he said, his chin resting on the top of my head. "That's not you, and you know it. You know who you are. You've just been so hurt, and so angry, you've just forgotten who you are at some point along the way. Now, now, you just have to remember her."
He was right. That's what started to scare me most, I think, that he was right. I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself, remember who I was, and begin getting about with my business of getting on with life.
Brennan spent New Year's, a single week later, in a much different frame of mind.
For some reason, (that reason actually being *her* – Brennan suspected, but never confirmed), Angela somehow managed to black mail and/or guilt trip almost the entire lab staff into coming to a party in the lab on New Year's Eve. Everyone came from Cam to the squinterns to Sweets (as Daisy Wicks' date). And, somehow, somehow, in-between Wendell sticking by her right side the entire night, and Vincent Nigel-Murray sticking by her left side the entire night, somehow… somehow, Brennan started to remember who she was.
A few dozen bottles of champagne later, Hodgins and Arastoo Vaziri were designing some type of impromptu laser show – once Cam had nixed the fireworks that Hodgins had suddenly conjured like some type of Houdini. And, when midnight rolled around, feeling pleasantly bubbly on the champagne and camaraderie and lack of melancholy that she had been feeling for the past two months, she didn't protest at midnight when Wendell reached over and kissed her. She blinked for a moment in surprise, and he grinned sheepishly at her. She grinned back… and was quickly grabbed by Hodgins, who kissed her on the cheek as did Clark Edison and Vincent Nigel-Murray.
A few feet away, Sweets was watching Brennan interact with several people as someone turned on the lab's speaker system, fast music began to pump through the air, and she began to dance with no one in particular.
"Don't even think about it, Sweets," a voice came.
Turning, Sweets looked over to Angela as she trudged forward. "What?"
"Leave her alone," Angela said.
"I wasn't—"
"Yes, you were," Angela said. "You've been dying for two months to figure out a way to get time alone with Bren so you could shrink her head over what happened between her and Booth."
"Aren't you curious?" Sweets asked. "Or, wait… did she already tell you?"
Shaking her head, Angela said, "Yes, of course, and no, she hasn't."
"And that isn't driving you insane?" Sweets questioned in disbelief.
Angela shrugged. "Not really. She'll tell me when she's ready." She stopped and then said, "How's the G-man doing?"
It was Sweet's turn to shrug. "I can't really say specifically… but… he seems… happy, I guess. Most days."
"What do you mean, 'most days'?" Angela questioned.
"He doesn't like the fact that every time something comes up in the staff meetings related to the Jeffersonian, he's not the one that everyone turns to anymore," Sweets mused. "The week after Agent Sullivan took over the position, Booth had to stop himself numerous times from answering DD Hacker's questions about the status of the lab's work on certain cases… potential availability for future workload, you know—stuff like that. I… I heard he and Agent Sullivan have a disagreement about something, related to the change in assignment, I'm sure, that first week… But, since that happened, Booth doesn't say much about the lab. He doesn't bring it up at all, actually. I just kinda of get this vague impression every now and then that he's wistful about something."
"Yeah, well… I feel bad for him… just a little bit… because he was great having around. But so is Sully, and, Bren…" Angela's voice trailed off.
"And Dr. Brennan?" Sweets asked.
"And," Angela sighed. "And… I'm watching her Sweets. Just like you're watching Booth... but that's really all I can do right now, at least until she comes to me or he comes to you."
"She kissed Wendall," Sweet said suddenly. "At midnight? She kissed him."
Her eye's narrowing, Angela chuckled. "No, she didn't."
"Yeah, they did," Sweets insisted. "I saw it. Saw them."
"*Bren* didn't kiss Wendell... Wendell kissed *Bren*... as a friend... at midnight on New Years' Eve... because I asked him to," Angela said. "Brennan... she needs to, well, she needed to be kissed... even if it was just by a friend... at midnight on New Years' Eve. She needed to have some feeling of hope - new year, new beginning." She looked at him with an evil grin as she said, "I would have done it myself, but I didn't want to confuse her, just in case..."
Laughing silently, Sweets shook his head and remained quiet.
Angela glanced at the main floor in front of the lab's door where Brennan was cheering on Cam and Hodgins as they did a silly rendition of the Macarena. She smiled and said, "You know what, Sweets? For the first time in a long time, I think, maybe she'll be doing that sooner rather than later."
"And then?" Sweets pressed.
"And, then… then we'll see," Angela said softly.
-TBC-