What He Offere

Chapter 24: Cancel all our vows

Bones thought it "imprecise," as Booth had phrased it, to say she hadn't liked Hannah Burley. She had, in truth, been fascinated by Hannah, much as small animals and birds are reputed to be mesmerized when confronted with a snake — which is not to say that she thought of Hannah as a possibly venomous reptile! Not at all. It was rather that Hannah was a conundrum to her, a puzzle she could not quite solve. To this day, she remained curious about the woman, but only in an academic sense. She did not regret Hannah's having dropped out of their lives, and she doubted Booth did, either.

A Tale of Twin Booths, cont'd

Vic Booth stood in the men's rest room and examined his face in the mirror. Considering the blow his twin had dealt him, it was remarkable his cheek showed no sign of injury: no bruising, no abrasion, no swelling at all. Aspirin had chased the physical pain away but his heart still hurt with every beat; he would not have been at all surprised to learn he had sustained internal bleeding. He picked up his duffel, and returned to the boarding area to await his flight home.

In the midst of the happy crowd of soldiers heading out on leave, Vic sat alone, isolated by grief. His brother, his twin, in many ways his better half had rejected him. What had Tim said? I don't know you anymore. I hate you. I will never work with you again. And, why? All because of a woman, a woman who had, now, broken his heart twice over: once, when she'd deserted him, and then, when she'd stolen his brother away. His brother… Vic felt a pang of regret. He acknowledged to himself that he'd treated Tim badly. He didn't really believe that Tim wanted Brennan, not as he did, but Tim had hurt him by aligning himself with her against him, and, in a fit of temper, he'd lashed out. Tim and Brennan were teamed up now, and he was out in the cold. It was two against one, or even three against one, if he counted Jay. Of the four people he loved most in the world, only Parker was still in his camp. Parker… and maybe one more person: Hannah Burley.

Once on the plane, he reclined in his seat, a mask over his eyes, but sleep eluded him. The hours ticked slowly by, filled with few thoughts other than the debacle his life had become. He found himself wondering what if, after all, Tim was right, and he was wrong? It wouldn't be the first time, far from it. What if, when he saw Brennan later by the reflecting pool, she ran to him, threw herself into his arms, and told him how terribly she'd missed him? Would that be evidence enough for him to void his resolution to put the temptation of her behind him once and for all? Or, would he take back his decision, and resume the chase?

It was in this chaotic frame of mind that Vic approached the stairs leading down to the mall. Darkness had fallen, visibility was poor, but then, he spotted her, and it was, incredibly, the airport scene all over again, with him in his camouflage BDU coming down toward her, and she, her travel bag hooked over her shoulder, half-turned looking back for him. His heart thrilled at the welcome sight of her, so long desired, and he broke out in a smile as she hurried toward him, elation dawning on her beautiful face, her arms outstretched. He dropped his duffel unceremoniously, and braced for impact as she threw her arms around him, and hugged him to her as though she'd never let him go again.

When she dropped back on her heels, and grinned up at him, he gave her the chance to make it all right, to say the magic words that would crack the shell he'd regrown around his heart. But, she leaned to one side, and looked past him, craning her neck. "Where's Tim?" she asked, eagerly.

He did not allow his smile to falter. He picked up his duffel, and motioned toward the stairs. "It's Father Tim, now," he told her, striving for a light tone. "You'd hardly recognize him. He's turned into something of a guru, with a devoted flock hanging on every pearl of wisdom that drops from his lips."

Brennan settled down beside him on the cold concrete step, a look of perplexity on her face. "I don't know what that means."

"It means he's fine, and doing great work. The Army can't spare him."

"Oh. Well, I guess that's good." She sounded dubious.

Before she could continue the subject, Vic reached into his breast pocket and removed some recent snapshots. She was immediately diverted, and asked questions about the men and women pictured, the work he'd done, whether he'd been in any danger. Finally, as casually as he was able, he worked in a question of his own. "So… meet anyone special?"

He remembered the guidebook photos of those sinewy, brown-skinned islanders with their handsome features and shiny black hair, and held his breath. "I was working," she said, "So, there was no time or inclination for sex or romance. How about you?"

He warmed to hear that reply, but as proof went, it did not suffice. It wasn't gentlemanly to test her, but he had to know. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I did." He took out his phone, and showed her the picture of Hannah in her pin-up-girl pose. "Hannah Burley."

"Oh!" Brennan's smile faltered, but she managed gamely, "How… how did you two meet?"

Vic related some of the details, all the while watching her reaction closely. When she asked, he told her firmly that, yes, they were serious, serious as a heart attack. Then, he waited, willing her to fight for him, to make a play, to say, I never expected that. I thought, once we got back, we'd be a real couple. Tell me it really isn't too late for us. But instead, her lips twitched into the semblance of a smile, and she said, her tone at once brittle and bright, "I find I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone."

And, just like that, he had his answer: Temperance Brennan was his past, Hannah Burley, his present. As to the future? His brother, unofficial man of God, would no doubt have proclaimed: "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."

Resolving on a course of action is one thing, Vic discovered, but holding to it when friends and colleagues make no secret of their surprise and incredulity is another. Vic found himself constantly having to swim against the tide of popular opinion, insisting that yes, he was in love, and no, for the last time already, it was not with Brennan. If the Jeffersonian squint squad didn't turn on him out of loyalty to their esteemed leader, as Tim had, it was only because Brennan didn't allow it. She was staunch in denying any personal disappointment, and in maintaining an unqualified support of Vic's new relationship. Vic doubted very much that Cam and Angela would have lent themselves to helping Hannah move into his apartment if Brennan hadn't taken his new girlfriend so publicly under her wing.

As the weeks wore on, the instances of Brennan's generosity to Hannah multiplied. When Hannah sought her counsel on the matter of a house-warming gift for Vic, Brennan might easily have named some gadget or decorative item at random, but instead, she told Hannah about his long-standing desire for a bakelite rotary phone. And, when Hannah took what appeared to be a minor gun shot wound to the leg, Brennan had not needed to review the x-rays or point out a complication Hannah's doctors had missed and which had the potential to result in her death, but she had. He could only guess what it had cost Brennan to stand by and watch Hannah challenge her for favorite-woman-not-my-mother status in Parker's life, but she paid the price unstintingly and with grace. Hell, Brennan even surrendered her favorite pair of designer sunglasses when Hannah brazenly demanded them. All this, and more, Brennan did on Hannah's behalf.

At first, Vic thought Brennan had simply fallen under Hannah's spell: hadn't she volunteered the observation that "everybody loves her?" In time, however, he came to see that Brennan had befriended his lover not for Hannah's sake but for his. By word and action, he had persuaded her that Hannah was his bliss, and so, she made any and all concessions to insure the continuation of that happiness, however much it made her suffer.

Because Brennan did suffer. Vic did not need Tim's sensitivity to perceive Brennan was presenting a brave front to the world. No one knew her tells better than he did. The false cheer in her voice, the inability to hold his eye, the way she angled her jaw out and to the side, these small signs gave her away. This show of hers, which she doubtless thought convincing, was all to spare his feelings, to avoid raining on his gaudy parade. And, he'd renounced this amazing, self-abnegating woman in favor of Hannah Burley! Old Tim had been right, after all, damn him: Temperance Brennan had deserved better from him.

With this realization, the pull that Brennan had never ceased to exert on him increased so powerfully that he feared he would be drawn ineluctably into yet another long and hopeless chase for her affections. She was the siren to his hapless Ulysses, her entrancing song luring his frangible barque onto rocky shoals, but like that ancient Greek traveler, Vic had a mast to which he could bind himself in order to resist her seductive call: he had Hannah. But, holding onto Hannah was not a simple matter either. He had known from the start she was not the staying kind; that had not concerned him then. Now, however, with every hint of dissatisfaction, he panicked, and put himself out to placate her. Was she plagued by ennui? He would cook her a special dinner, with wine and everything. Did she need the excitement of pursuing lurid crime stories? He would not stand in her way. Was she envious of his partnership with Brennan? They would take on that corrupt cop she was investigating together. He would do anything, anything at all, to keep her from leaving him.

Then, one night — it was their sixth month of living together — Hannah came home with a decided twinkle in her eye. "Vic, lover, you'll never guess! I popped in to see Brennan late this afternoon, but I missed her, because…" She paused dramatically. "… she'd just left with her new man."

Vic's pulse began to pound. "Her new… what?"

"I know, right? Brennan with a guy! But, word has it, he's a hottie! I'm so happy for our girl."

"Any… ah, idea who the guy is?"

Hannah stored her gear away, and started off for the kitchen and a glass of wine. "No. He's a man of mystery, apparently. I got a description, though: tall, dark-haired, thick stubble, nice physique."

Vic's heart sank like a torpedoed charter boat. It had to be Sully. He was back.