Away Isn't Far Enough

1. Everything Is Logic - Except This

She finally reached the front door of the London apartment the Jeffersonian had rented for her. As soon as she set foot in the cold and dark living room, she threw her bag on the coffee table – or was it a tea table here?- and watched it fall off, bringing the potpourri bowl with it in a big crash. And she let herself fall back on the couch. The stupid, uncomfortable, leather couch. She didn't care about the potpourri. She didn't care about the fact that all the content of her bag was spread across the living room's hardwood floor.

With a long sigh, she massaged her temples. She had never been so exhausted in her whole life. This entire past week, as soon as she got out of bed, she felt tired. She was totally drained. Even the remains she was working on couldn't take her mind off this mess. She felt as if she was drowning.

She had jumped on the opportunity to come to London. And for once, she was aware of the fact that she was running away. Running from her work, her life. Running from stupid Sweets who had provoked them, pushed them too far with his illogical experiments. Running from Cam, who was snappier than ever, and with whom Brennan couldn't help but argue all the time. Running from Angela, who was unknowingly teaching her how to think more like a woman and less like a doctor. Running from Hodgins who was sulking, mad at the world since Zack... Running away from the Jeffersonian building which had always been her safe haven with its quiet, empty and soothing hallways, but which was now haunted by Zack's ghost. Running away from those stupid interns, those wannabes who would never be good enough. Running away from him. Her partner.

This whole thing was completely irrational. And the more she thought about it, the worst it got. Her eyes closed, she almost laughed at herself when she remembered she had even turned to psychology to try and make sense out of it all. This was all Angela's fault. She had coerced her into spending an evening watching all those stupid Sex and the City episodes...

................

"Why are we watching this again?" Brennan asked as the oldest of the girl friends was going at it yet again on Angela's huge TV screen.

"I thought you'd find this interesting. From an anthropological point of view."

"Right..."

"I'm serious!"

Brennan couldn't help but hold back a smile. "How old is the guy Tabatha's with?"

"Wrong show, sweetie. That's Samantha. Tabatha's two years old and she does magic with her nose."

Brennan shrugged and pointed at the screen. "He can't be more than 21 years old."

"And?"

"I don't know how she does it."

"Oh, it's easy, trust me. You lift one leg up while holding on to something and you bend you knee while reaching..."

Brennan laughed again. The wine was definitely getting to her. "No! I mean... I've never been attracted to guys 20 years younger than me..."

"That's because you're 33... You do the math."

Brennan frowned, trying to calculate. "Oh..."

Angela patted her friend on the knee.

"Yeah. Stop thinking, just watch the episode," Angela ordered, smirking.

Brennan turned back to the TV. And she smiled to herself. She had to have Booth watch this. Maybe he had watched it before. He had so many guilty pleasures he didn't want to talk about... Angela started talking again while Brennan's thoughts wandered further.