Note: Inspired by the prompt "People find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right."
What if: Brennan had said something before Booth moved in with Hannah?
AU? Yes
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They drove in silence.
That was the norm now, an uncomfortable silence where they used to talk for hours about things they couldn't talk about any other time.
Things had been strained before they'd each committed to a year apart, but the time apart had increased the figurative distance as well as the literal one. His new relationship had driven the nail into the coffin of their easy comradery.
As the miles passed by, she wondered whether she should speak up. What was the social convention in this situation? Should she say something, or had she given up the right to do so?
She wasn't as stealthy as she thought, so after her fourteenth subtle glance at him, he snapped, "What?"
She bit her lip as she pondered whether to claim she had nothing to say. She didn't want to lose what remained of their friendship – if there was even anything left to save. She waited just a second too long before she quietly said, "I understand you and Hannah are moving in together."
"That's right", he replied. "We are." His tone didn't encourage discussion.
"Oh."
They drove in silence for another mile as she warred with herself. "It's not uncommon for people who meet in a war zone to form close attachments."
"Mmm hmm." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, as if total concentration on the road would get them back to the city faster.
"It's just ..." She paused, took a deep breath. "Those attachments are very powerful in the moment, but they often don't survive the return to a more … normal way of life."
His jaw tightened. "Well, I guess I'm one of the lucky ones, because we're back on American soil and Hannah and I are doing great."
Brennan nodded, her attention carefully focused on the view out of the passenger side window. They drove for a few more miles, before she said quietly, "It's just very fast, and I don't want you to get hurt."
"Right."He was angrier than he could ever remember being. "Maybe I should wait six years, tell her how I feel, and let her reject me then. That won't hurt at all."
Neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive, and the next time they had a case, she drove herself.
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Months later, she walked into a bar.
Hannah had called, told her what had happened, and she knew he needed a friend.
Even her.
He was at the bar, several empty glasses in front of him, looking as dejected as she'd ever seen him. She slid onto a stool, and asked, "You drunk?'
He didn't want to talk about what had happened, and, to be honest, neither did she. She should have been able to keep him from being hurt, should have known what to say to convince him to take it slow.
She should have said yes, all of those months ago.
He was hurt that he'd been rejected, and angry – mad that Hannah had said no, that he wasn't going to get the life he wanted. More than that, he was angry with her – for planting the idea in his head that his relationship with Hannah might not work out, for not convincing him to take it slow, for breaking down and telling him she regretted saying no.
He dared her to leave, offered to get her a new FBI guy, told her that if she stayed, all they'd ever be was partners. He gave her a clear choice – take a drink and stay partners, or leave and sever their partnership.
He knew she wanted more, but more was off the table.
Leaving would have been the rational decision, a way to cut her losses, to protect herself from being hurt again.
But she stayed and took a drink.
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Thoughts?