A/N: I took this story down since the finale due to some rather unhappy reactions to the premise. However, since that time, several people have emailed me asking that I repost it. For those of you that did enjoy it, it is thanks to them that I have decided to continue and finish it.

You did not miss any updates. I have decided to post it in several larger chunks.

If you enjoyed the story, I hope you continue to do so. If you didn't the first time, don't bother starting it over hoping I changed something, I didn't.

As usual, I don't own Bones.

After Brennan writes two letters Booth didn't respond to, she comes home from Maluku with a new man in her life.

Brennan waited near the coffee cart, two cups of coffee on the bench next to her. She was still, burying any signs of nervousness beneath a cool exterior. There was nothing to be nervous about, after all. She was simply there to meet an old friend, one she hadn't seen in eight months. They would hug, they would talk about what they'd done during their time apart, and life would continue as it always had.

Except it wouldn't. Nothing would be the same between them. Brennan knew that, even if she didn't want to acknowledge it. There was simply no chance, no variable she could change, that would make everything the same.

Eight months. Not much more than a blip on the graph in a scientific timeline. Eight months on a dig that was supposed to help answer questions about human evolution. She would have been at the forefront of the investigation, many discoveries would be credited to her name, it would have helped make the whole thing worth leaving everything behind.

If the discoveries had actually come. But they hadn't. All that had come was disappointment, followed by anger, when the funding had been pulled four months before the excavation was supposed to end. With nothing left to work on, and no money with which to do it with, Brennan and the rest of the team she'd spent the last eight months with had returned home.

She'd been home almost a week now. Cam expected her back at work the next morning, her office was ready for her, Angela and Hodgins had returned from Paris when they'd heard Brennan was back. It had taken a week to clean out the Lab to reform the group. The entire team was back together and Brennan had to admit, she was looking forward to getting back to a career she thought she might be done with a year ago.

Except for one, crucial member of that team. He was expected to return today. And his first stop was supposed to be this coffee cart, to meet Brennan, just as they had promised.

Picking up the coffee, she took a sip, just to give her hands something to do. Her feelings about seeing Booth again were all tangled up with the feelings she'd had about walking away from him. And then everything that had come, or hadn't come during the last eight months.

He'd told her things had to change and she'd followed his advice. For the last eight months, whenever she struggled to make a choice, she remembered those words. Things had to change, so she'd changed them. Booth had been the catalyst in more ways than one.

Had that been his intention, when he hadn't responded to the letters she'd sent? Was that how he'd forced her to make changes, by giving her no other choice? Brennan had no intention of asking him, because she didn't want the truth of those answers. Her own conclusions were hard enough to live with.

Turning her head slowly, Brennan scanned the crowd gathering near the coffee cart. Booth had promised he'd be here and he wasn't one to break promises, so she continued to wait. And watch. A part of her was terrified she wouldn't recognize him, or that he wouldn't recognize her. Change was inevitable, and for Brennan, unavoidable, during the past year. She'd crushed her own heart, muscles couldn't be broken, then Booth had crushed it a second time. It wasn't whole yet, but she was trying.

Unwillingly, her thoughts drifted back to that night almost a year ago, outside of Sweets' office. Booth had asked her to take a chance on them, but she didn't. At the time, felt she couldn't. It had been a mistake, one she'd regretted more as each day passed. But she hadn't been ready to face what that meant, wasn't ready to tie her happiness to another person.

Her decision, her words, had driven a wedge between them that had finally forced the separation. That, and the sudden overwhelming need to escape the death and mayhem that had begun to haunt her every time she closed her eyes. Requiring a break, Brennan accepted a position that took her halfway around the world. Too terrified to discuss it with him, unable to put her feelings into words, she'd allowed him to leave.

The mistake was clear to her only a week into the excavation. Not in signing up to go to Maluku, but in not telling him her feelings while she had the chance.

So she'd done the only thing she felt she could at the time. Brennan wrote him a letter. Then waited. First a week and then a second. When she didn't get a response, a second letter followed the first. And when no response came for a second time, Brennan knew she needed to move on.

Booth obviously had. His lack of response made that clear.

Not far from where she sat, a couple embraced casually and Brennan looked at them for a long time. They looked happy, even to her. The man causally threw an arm over the woman's shoulders as they headed off to her left. It could have been her and Booth, a year ago. Even six months ago.

Not anymore.

His lack of response had made it clear he no longer harbored any of the feelings he'd spoken of. That had crushed her already damaged heart almost to oblivion, but as she always had in the past, Brennan managed to pick up the pieces and start over again.

Strong enough now to admit his rejection had hurt, Brennan fought the urge to sigh at the memory. Her own rejection had apparently closed that door for the two of them and there was no reopening it. Despite the pain, so terrible it had threatened to rip her in half, Brennan had buried the hurt and thrown herself into her work. She tried to escape by being alone.

Except people weren't so easily dissuaded. Booth had shown her she was a good person, that she deserved to be loved, and she came to the conclusion that she wouldn't close herself off again. Brennan regretted turning Booth down and refused to miss a chance at happiness, at love, for a second time. If Booth no longer wanted her, no longer loved her, surely there was someone else out there who would.

Which had proven to be much harder than she thought. It was easy to date, to talk, to laugh, to have sex with a man. It was a lot harder to fall in love again, especially when she compared her partner to Booth. She found herself doing just that more frequently than she liked.

She spotted him first and immediately her heart beat faster. Taking a deep breath, she pushed down the reaction, struggling to understand what it could mean. Surely, it was nothing more than excitement at seeing her good friend again. It could mean nothing else, as that part of her life was over.

"Booth!" she cried, getting to her feet and waving a hand in his direction. He turned immediately and she gave him a welcoming, if guarded smile. When his own face lit up, she was helpless to stop the larger smile that appeared.

"Bones," he greeted, dropping his bag to envelope her in a hug. Brennan let it go on for what she considered an appropriate time before she pulled away from him and stepped out of his reach. His eyes narrowed at her, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he reached for a cup of coffee. "I'm assuming one of these is mine?"
As he took a sip, she ran her eyes down his figure and back up again, rapidly analyzing what she saw. More muscle mass, no obvious wounds, same brown eyes and shorter hair she determined quickly. It was a relief to know he'd come home unscathed, no matter what had happened between them.

Could she say the same about herself? The wounds were not where anyone could see them, but they were there. They were buried deep, but Brennan feared that under the right circumstances, they would bleed as much as they had the first time.

Metaphorically, emotions sucked.

Over the rim of the cup, he watched her eyes travel up and down him. And watched as they clouded over before they cleared again. "I'm fine, Bones," he said with a smile, pleased to see she was still interested in his well-being. "Sit down and tell me how your dig went."

"I met someone," she blurted out as she sat, not looking up at his face. That wasn't how she intended to tell him, but it seemed Brennan still had no skill at keeping secrets from him. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to focus on his face, instead of his feet. "The dig was a disaster," she added.

Booth hadn't expected those words, much less prepared himself for them. Happy he'd swallowed that first drink of coffee, he slowly pulled the cup away from his lips and took a much closer look at the woman in front of him. She was staring at him in the direct way she had, waiting for him to say something, he knew. But the words wouldn't come.

"A disaster, huh?" he echoed, focusing on the only words he wanted to think about, but he was helpless to stop himself from going back to the others. "Couldn't have been too much of a disaster if you met someone there."

His brown eyes, so welcoming only several minutes before, were shadowed as he looked at her. She licked her lips as she waited for some sort of reaction. "He's a member of the team I worked with," she said nervously to fill the sudden silence.

"How long?" Booth managed to choke out, the styrofoam cup beginning to crumple in his fist. Looking down at her, he forced himself to focus on her words, and not on the heart that was attempting to pound its way out of his chest.

"A couple months," she said softly, wondering why he seemed so angry. The emotion was strong in him for her to read it so easily, but Brennan felt he had no right to it. He hadn't responded to her attempt to patch things up with him, not once, but twice. He'd told her he had to move on that night and clearly, he had. Shouldn't she be allowed to do the same?

Booth nodded at her answer and forced himself to take a second sip of the suddenly bitter coffee. Five years he'd attempted to maneuver his way further into his life, he'd practically begged her to take a chance with him and only six months after separating, she was dating someone else? Clearly, it hadn't been about not wanting to risk the friendship. It had been about not wanting him.

He'd entertained hope, for eight long months, that when he came back she would be ready. He'd turned down numerous offers, checked the mail every day for a message from her, and prayed each night that when he finally saw her again, things would be different for them.

Things were definitely going to be different. It appeared his prayers had been answered. As a joke, this one sucked.

"I'm happy for you," he said. Moving away from her, he threw the drink into the nearest trash can, taking time to settle himself before turning back to her.

"I am happy," she agreed quickly. Brennan thought she was happy. Felt happy each time she got to spend time with Craig, her new boyfriend. But now that Booth was in front of her, she couldn't help but wonder what might have been, even though such speculation was useless. "Did you meet anyone?" she asked shyly as he turned back around.

"A few people," Booth shrugged, finally sitting on the bench next to her. The skin of her arm was warm from the sun. He could feel the heat radiating from it. Their hands rested next to each other and Booth pulled his a little closer to his leg, fingers curled around the bench, the skin white from the force of his grip. It was the only thing keeping him steady. "No one special."

"I worried about you," Brennan said, turning her head to look at him. His face in profile looked just as she remembered and Brennan was a little concerned that she still found it attractive. Was it okay to notice him this way when she was with someone else? Reaching up, she brushed at the bangs she'd had cut into her hair recently. She didn't really care for them, but Craig liked them, so for the moment, they were staying.

Acknowledging her comment with a nod, Booth didn't face her, choosing instead to stare off into the distance. This wasn't how he'd imagined it, wasn't what he'd dreamed about when home had seemed so far away. He'd hoped, after time apart, they might be able to start down a different path. One that eventually led to them being together. Even in his nightmares, he'd never imagined she would bring someone home with her. "I'm fine," he said again, despite the fact he wasn't. His entire body felt raw, bruised. The bench was beginning to cut into his palm from the force of his grip and he focused on the pain in his hands, rather than the pain in his chest.

"Did he come back with you?" Booth heard himself ask. He was having an out of body experience. He could hear himself, see himself, but someone else was running his body. It couldn't be him, sitting there asking questions so calmly, when all he wanted to do was shake her while he screamed.

"He's staying in a hotel right now," Brennan said, "at least for the next few weeks. I wanted him to make sure it was the right move before he made any permanent decisions."

It was wrong, she'd done it all wrong. She'd meant to introduce Craig to people slowly, give him time to adjust to the various people that were important to her. Instead, the person whose reaction meant the most to her, the person who'd secretly done background checks on some of her previous boyfriends, was mad at her less than an hour after seeing her again.

And he had no right. He hadn't responded to her letters. She'd made a mistake. Spelled it out in a letter without using scientific terms to explain what she'd felt. Her fears and her hopes were in not one, but two letters that had meant so little to him that he couldn't even find the time to write back.

Booth could see her out of the corner of his eye, pressing her lips together, a sure sign of annoyance. He knew she was angry with him, but couldn't see a way around that. He hadn't expected to have the rug pulled out in front of him as soon as he arrived back in the city.

"I'm tired, Bones," he said finally. "I'm going to go back to my apartment." He got to his feet and looked down at her. "I plan on being back to work tomorrow." He had to get out of here, get away from her. This time, Booth knew he was the one who was running.

Who could blame him? He'd heard of other soldiers who'd come home to find empty houses, rather than the wife or girlfriend they'd expected. Bones wasn't either to him, but Booth imagined the feeling was similar.

Could they even work together anymore, Brennan wondered. At that moment, it didn't seem possible. She didn't totally understand what was happening, but something was. She couldn't figure it out, couldn't analyze her way out of it, and it confused her. "I'll be at the Jeffersonian. You can find me there."

Not responding either way, he turned sharply on his heel, retrieved his bag, and walked away without looking back. She watched him until she could no longer see him, finally rising to throw away the coffee she'd barely touched.