A/N: Hi, it's me again. I know Ache has been on hiatus for months now, and I apologize. I had a brutal first semester of grad school, and I do hope to get things moving on that again because I'm actually feeling really inspired by the depth of what's happening on the show these days. I know that's far from a majority opinion, but it's how I feel. Anyways, this one-shot is a fluffy, sweet, sappy bundle of goodness (once you get past the heapings of angst) for the bitesize_bones "Gift" comment fic meme, written for the prompt "The Doctor in the Photo: Three weeks before Christmas, Brennan told him she was wrong...but holidays can lend themselves to surprises." I don't know if this is how the creator of the prompt, the wonderful melissasjack over at LJ envisioned it going, but I kind of took the theme and ran with my own interpretation, incorporating lots of gifts along the way. Hannah does feature in this story, albeit briefly, and there are spoilers for 6x09. Enjoy!

He's been carrying around guilt for three weeks now. It's not right, he thinks, somewhat angrily. He gambled, she turned him down, he warned her that he had to move on, and he did. So why does he feel guilty? He thinks with a pang of Hannah – smart, beautiful, fun Hannah, who has brought a little light into his life. Any guy would be lucky to have her, and she chose him. Life is good. Easy. Uncomplicated.

So why does the universe persist in fucking with him? It's simply not fair that the woman of your dreams, the goddamn standard, tells you nine months too late that she's finally on the same page, hearing signals from the universe and wanting to live a life with no regrets. He knew that telling her Hannah was not a consolation prize had hurt her, deeply; even without the tears, the anguish in her eyes had tormented him for weeks. And despite his best efforts, he cannot hush the niggling voice that insists that though Hannah is not a consolation prize, she is not The One, either. That his heart has, and always will, belong to one Temperance Brennan.

The worst part is Hannah senses something is wrong. He's been fending off her well-intentioned inquiries, but he's running out of evasive techniques. She knows the bare details, having seen how out-of-sorts Bones had been during the case, but he knows she won't rest until she has the full story. A pitfall of being in a relationship with an investigative reporter, he thinks with a wry smile.

And the wants to tell her. He's tired of having yet more guilt on his already overburdened conscience, but he know it's a terrible idea. Because really, what good can come of telling the woman he loves that he wanted to spend thirty, or forty, or fifty years with his partner, the person who has seen the darkest parts of his soul and calmly accepted it all? Who has saved him in more ways than one? How can he tell her that this same partner has suddenly come to the painful, belated realization that she loves him? He wants more than anything to make this relationship work, but why should Hannah believe him? The evidence, as Bones would point out, all points to one logical conclusion, and that conclusion does not include one Hannah Burley.

These are the thoughts that preoccupy him as he drives the quiet streets of Spring Valley, trying to clear his head before he goes home. He's had miserable Christmases before because he's missed Parker desperately, but grappling with feelings of guilt, regret, and confusion come a very close second in terms of how much they suck.

Glancing at the dashboard, he realizes that it's getting late. He's been driving for nearly two hours, and it's nearly eight thirty, and since he hasn't called, Hannah will be expecting him, and he doesn't want to worry her. Exhaling a breath he doesn't realize he's been holding, he turns onto Massachusetts Avenue, going back to Hannah and to the questions she will inevitably have for him.

They make it through dinner and onto the couch before Hannah begins her line of inquiry, turning to face him.

"Seeley, what's wrong?"

"Nothing babe, I told you."

"You've been saying that for weeks, since you and Temperance wrapped up that case with the doctor, but that's obviously not true."

He sighs.

"Look, Hannah, I really don't want to get into this."

"Seeley, I love you. I love you, and I care about you, and I believe you love me too."

"Of course, babe, you know I do."

He reaches for her hand to give it a reassuring pat, and is somewhat surprised when she clasps her other hand over it, enveloping his hand in her own.

"Then let me in, Seeley, please. Even if I can't do anything about it, I'd still like to know. Please?"

He chances a look at her, and the genuine concern and affection he sees in her eyes rips him apart. Before he can stop himself, he finds the words tumbling out, uncensored. He tells her everything: that first, contentious case, the Eller case, the tumor, the dream, his confession, her rejection, and their parting nine months ago. And then, taking a deep breath, he makes the ultimate confession, how, on that rainy night three weeks ago, Bones had told him that she was ready to take a chance on them.

He closes his eyes when he's done, afraid to look at Hannah, but bracing himself for her well-deserved fury. When none comes, he opens his eyes in surprise and turns to look at Hannah, who is studying him with a look of sad concern. Anger he can deal with, but the sorrowful pity on her face only makes him feel worse.

"Say something," he begs, his voice hoarse with anxiety.

"It all makes sense," she finally says.

Panic grips him. Of all the things she could have said, this is not what he wants to hear.

She gives him a small smile.

"It all makes sense now," she repeats. "I mean, why else does a nearly 40-year old FBI agent suddenly decide to return to a combat zone? If you felt a sense of patriotic duty, you would have signed up in 2001. And then there's the dynamic between you and Temperance…"

Guilt seeps even further into his chest, making it hard to breathe. All these months, he thought he'd done a good job of moving on, but no, turns out his girlfriend had seen right through it all.

"Hannah, I'm so sorry, I thought…"

She shakes her head slightly.

"You have nothing to apologize for. It's just, I wondered, you know, because well, you rarely seemed to be very close to her, but then she's giving me lectures on being careful with your heart because you give freely of your love, and telling me why you have a thing for old Bakelite phones – something doesn't add up there. You don't know those kinds of things about someone else if you're not deeply connected to them."

She leaves unspoken the sentiment they have both realized, that despite months of living together, they are in many ways, strangers. They have shared their lives with each other, but little else.

He takes another breath, trying to calm the overwhelming remorse he feels.

"So, what do we do now?"

The question hangs in the air. The silence feels leaden.

"We say we had a good run and we call it a day."

"I didn't mean for things to end like this," he says. It sounds trite, but he means it.

"I know," she replies. "You're a good man, Seeley, but this? Us? It was never meant to be. You deserve better, and so do I."

Hannah seems to sense his pain and sadness, for she looks at him and adds,

"Some things just aren't meant to be. But we learn from them, we enjoy them while we can, and then we move on. This isn't your fault, Seeley, and it isn't mine. It just is what it is."

At this, she leans in and gives him a small, lingering kiss on the cheek.

"Don't feel bad. Just do the right thing."

With that, she gets up and goes into the bedroom, leaving him sitting outside on the couch, alone with his thoughts.

When he wakes up the next morning, she is gone. He wonders what it means, that the woman who shared his home has left without leaving a mark of her presence beyond an empty drawer and some more space in the closet.

As he shaves, he reflects on the events that have transpired over the last twelve hours. He realizes now that he never truly trusted Hannah with his heart the way Bones apparently believed he had. He'd been so eager for an easy relationship, one free from weighty emotions, preferring to keep things light and easy instead of letting her see the darker parts of his soul. But thirty, forty, fifty years – they aren't built on sunshine and rainbows – they're built on truly knowing and accepting the other person, warts and all, as Pops would say. He and Hannah never had that.

He begins cleaning the apartment and setting up his Christmas tree. It has lain unadorned in the corner for weeks, a victim to a cancelled weekend with Parker and work, and now it is two days before Christmas and he has no tree. The Christmas spirit is sorely lacking, but he decorates the tree in any case, so that when Parker comes over tomorrow, he gets the full Christmas package of presents under the tree.

Parker. Shit. How is he going to explain to his son that Hannah is gone? The two had taken a shine to each other, and now he's going to have to tell Parker that not only does Hannah not live here anymore, they'll probably never see her again. Some father he is, he thinks morosely. He can't even manage to make Christmas a happy time for his son.

By the time he finishes, the tree looks surprisingly festive, and he finds that he is cheered by it, at least slightly. After a quick lunch, he heads out to Montgomery Mall to do some last minute shopping. Once there, he picks up a video game that Parker has been begging for, then stops into Borders to find some science books on dinosaurs and the planets, Parker's latest obsessions. In previous years, he would have solicited Bones' help in picking the right ones, but this year, he's on his own.

The thought of Bones brings to mind Hannah's words from last night. She'd admonished him to do the right thing, but he doesn't know how to make things right. The last few months have obviously been hard on Bones – he hadn't really known, but her breakdown had provided spectacular evidence of that fact, but beyond that, if he's being truly honest with himself, he's been kind of an ass to her. Having Hannah in his life had automatically meant there would be changes to his relationship with Bones, but he'd underestimated how hard it still is at times to see her, to be reminded of what was and what could have been. He's been protecting his own heart, but he's inadvertently hurt hers.

That's bad, but what's worse is he doesn't know if he can even begin to right this kind of wrong. He's barely seen Bones since the Eames case – it felt too raw, and so he'd retreated even further, and so apparently, had she. The few times they'd interacted since, she'd been her old, brisk, no-nonsense self. Silently, he offers up a prayer that the woman with the oversize heart he's grown to love still exists.

Parker's wish list fulfilled, he heads to the jewelry store to return the bracelet he'd bought for Hannah. His mind flashes back to the night she'd mistakenly thought he was about to propose – her utter panic should have been a warning sign, he muses. After all, a woman who is ready to settle down and build a family doesn't tend to greet potential proposals with entreaties to stop before asking screws everything up. As he's finishing dealing with the sales clerk, something catches his eye – a delicate, silver dolphin pendant on a chain. He knows that he probably has no right to even entertain thoughts of giving her such a gift, but he can't help it. He asks the clerk to wrap it for him, and slips it into his pocket for safekeeping.

Satisfied with his purchases, he heads home, making a light dinner of pasta and sauce before settling down to watch some TV. Parker will be over bright and early to go visit Pops and attend midnight Mass (which actually happens at about 8 p.m. to avoid keeping the kids up too late), so he turns in early.

Sleep proves elusive as he winds up tossing and turning half the night. He flops over for the umpteenth time, punching his pillow in frustration as he tries to make it fluffy enough under his head. How has it come to this, he wonders? How did things manage to get so complicated, so fractured when all he wanted was his share of happily ever after?

Finally, after what seems an eternity of sorts, he finally slips into slumber, his mind temporarily shutting off for a few short hours.

He awakes to the sound of pounding on the door and cries of "Dad! Dad! Open up! It's almost Christmas!" coming from the other side. He rouses himself, and is greeted by Parker flinging his arms around his waist in an enthusiastic hug.

"Hey, bub, how're you doing?" he asks, ruffling Parker's hair affectionately. Looking up, he meets Rebecca's gaze. "Hey Becks, how's it going?"

"I'm fine Seeley, how are you? How's Hannah?"

"Oh uh, fine," he replies. He is sort of fine, and if Rebecca wants to assume that fine extends to Hannah as well, he's not going to dispel the notion.

"All right, well, I better get going. You'll have him home after Mass, right?"

"Yeah, should be around 10:30 or 11, unless Father Mike decides to go for broke with his sermon."

"Ok, well, I'll expect you around then. Give me a call if you're going to be late."

"Sure thing, Becks."

"Bye, Parker."

"Bye, Mom," he waves, semi-distracted by the mound of presents under the tree.

He shuts the door after Rebecca, turning to face his son.

"Dad! Dad! Can we open presents now?"

"Sure thing, bub, go ahead!"

Parker pauses for a moment. "Well, shouldn't we wait for Hannah to wake up first?"

Damn. It figures that Parker, being a caring, considerate kid, would want to wait for Hannah before beginning. How the hell is he going to explain this without ruining Parker's Christmas or scarring the kid for life? A little help would be great here, Big Guy.

He sits down on the couch.

"Parks, come sit next to me for a sec. I need to tell you something."

"What's up, dad?"

He takes a deep breath.

"Well, Parker, it's about Hannah. She…she doesn't live here anymore."

Parker looks momentarily confused.

"Why not? Did you guys have a fight or something?"

"No, not quite. We just…talked about some things last night, and Hannah felt it would be better if she wasn't my girlfriend anymore."

Parker absorbs this statement, looking quietly pensive for a moment.

"That's sad, I liked Hannah. She was cool, plus, she likes strawberry ice cream."

"I know bub, I liked her too. But these things happen."

"Does this mean that Dr. Bones can be your girlfriend again?"

He is completely thrown by his son's question. This was not on the list of things he'd expected to be asked.

"Why…why would you think that?" he stammers.

"Well, because we used to spend lots of time with Dr. Bones before you went away," Parker explains, "and you don't spend lots of time with girls who aren't your girlfriend, right? And she let us use her pool."

He waits for Parker to continue explicating his own particular brand of logic.

"But then Hannah became your girlfriend, and we didn't see Dr. Bones any more, except that one time, at the diner, remember dad?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"But now, Hannah's not your girlfriend, so Dr. Bones can be your girlfriend again, right? And we can hang out with her like we used to, right?"

"I sure hope so, Parks, but Bones wasn't my girlfriend."

"Well, she could be, right? And she should be your girlfriend, because she's really cool."

He chuckles at his son's enthusiasm.

"We'll see. It's not that simple sometimes, but maybe you'll get a Christmas miracle and Bones will become my girlfriend," he teases, though a part of him hopes that such an occurrence might not be completely impossible. "Now, c'mon, let's get your presents loaded up in the car and go see Pops."

"Can we stop for pancakes and milkshakes on the way?" Parker asks, excitedly.

"You got it, buddy."

Two hours later, they are at the home with Pops. Parker is busy tearing into his gifts, exclaiming excitedly over each new item revealed, and Pops seizes upon the youngest Booth's distraction to interrogate him.

"So, shrimp, where's your girlfriend?"

"We uh…we broke up, Pops."

"That's too bad. She seemed nice enough," says Pops. "What happened?"

"Pops, I really don't…"

"Oh come off it, shrimp, if you can't tell your Pops, who can you tell?"

Sighing, he gives in to his grandfather's well-intentioned pressure and finds himself relating the events of the past few months for the second time in as many days.

"Last spring, I told Bones that I wanted to take a chance on us, that I'd always known she was the one for me, and she freaked. I told her I had to move on, she said she understood. She ran off to some islands in Indonesia, I went to Afghanistan, and I met Hannah. When I got back to D.C., I introduced them to each other and they got along just fine. Three weeks ago, we worked this case about a doctor, and it really got to Bones, y'know? And then out of nowhere, she's telling me she's on the same page, that she's ready to take a chance. On us."

"So what'd you tell her?"

"What could I tell her, Pops? I told her I loved Hannah, and that she wasn't a consolation prize, and I left it at that."

"And how did Temperance take that?" his grandfather inquires, gently.

He looks down, uncomfortable at the question.

"She didn't take it well," he admits. "She started sobbing, and said that she'd just be alone, that she'd missed her chance."

"And has she?"

"Has she what?"

"Has she missed her chance?"

He hasn't thought of it in quite those terms.

"No, Pops, but I don't know. I don't know if she'll give me another chance. Why should she? I've all but broken her heart. But Bones…she's…she's the standard. She always has been," he adds softly.

"Do you love her?"

"What?"

"It's a simple enough question, son. Do you love her?"

"Yes."

"Does she know you love her?"

He's about to answer yes, but then it occurs to him that he's never actually said the words out loud to her.

"I'm…I'm not sure," he admits, sheepishly.

"Well, have you told her?"

"No…"

"Can I give you some advice, shrimp?"

He nods.

"If the woman you love, and who loves you, doesn't know that you love her, you should start by putting that to rights first. The rest will sort itself out in time."

"But Pops, she's never said she loves me either."

His grandfather gives him a withering look.

"Shrimp, that woman loves you or my name isn't Hank Booth. Some foolishness on your part isn't going to change that. Just trust your instinct and do the right thing."

They are interrupted by Parker, who now giddy with excitement. He forces himself to stop dwelling on his love life for now and to cherish the memories being made. It hits him that Parker is growing up before his eyes, and that these displays of exuberant enthusiasm will pass all too soon, and so he devotes himself to living in the moment.

The three of them spend several more hours together, laughing, eating sugar cookies, and having a general ball before he announces that they have to get going if they're going to make it to church on time. Parker passes out on the ride, worn out by the afternoon's excitement, and he is grateful for the time alone with his thoughts. It is not lost on him that Pops gave him the same directive as Hannah, but he's still not certain he can make things right. Even if he confesses his love to her, what reason does she have to believe him? They don't know Bones like he does, and he's terrified that Cam's warning has come to pass, that Bones has retreated back into herself and that the walls he's spent years so carefully dismantling will never come down.

Mass offers more time for contemplation, and as he reflects on his cosmic balance sheet, he realizes that it's not just Bones he has to make amends to – it's the entire squint squad. He hasn't been as involved in their lives of late. He doesn't know how Angela's pregnancy is progressing, or how Hodgins is adjusting to impending fatherhood, or even how Michelle's college search is going. He'll have to seek their forgiveness, but Bones comes first. Reflection leads to prayer, and he prays that his friends will forgive him, that Hannah will not hold against him the mistakes he's made, but most of all, he prays that he will get a second chance with Bones. If they can just rebuild their friendship, it will be enough.

Two hours later, he wishes everyone around him peace and a Merry Christmas, and bundles Parker into the car. By the time he drops Parker at Rebecca's, it's almost 11, and after hugging his son tightly and wishing him a Merry Christmas, he starts for home. Halfway there, he makes a U-turn on an impulse and heads for Bones' apartment instead. She's planning on leaving for Guatemala in the morning, and suddenly trying to make things right before she leaves seems vitally important.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulls up to her apartment, relieved to see her lights still on. Nerves take hold as he prepares to get out of the car, and so he sits in the darkness for ten minutes, summoning his courage. He knows he has to choose his words carefully if he has any hope of convincing her, and he worries he'll make a mess of things again. Still, what's the worst that can happen? Either she rejects him and leaves for South America, allowing them both some time and distance, or she accepts and they can begin rebuilding.

He finally makes it out of the car and into the building, taking the elevator up to the second floor. His heart is beating like a jackhammer, and his palms are growing sweaty. Man up, Seeley. This is Bones, remember?. The thought steadies him. This is Bones. He has to make this right because there is no other option.

This is it, he thinks, as he reaches her front door. He hesitates a moment, then gives his signature three quick raps on the door. Ordinarily, he would call out to her, but it's late, she has no reason to expect him turning up at this hour after all this time, and he doesn't want to startle her. Still, the sound of shuffling as she makes her way to the door encourages him. That's gotta be a good sign, right?

The door opens, and he finds himself gazing down into a puzzled pair of blue eyes, the confused crease on her forehead reassuringly familiar.

"Booth?"

"Hey, Bones."

"What are you doing here? It's nearly midnight, on Christmas Eve. Surely we don't have a case?"

"No, there's no case. Can I come in?"

She moves aside, issuing a silent invitation to enter. He takes off his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack, then takes a seat on the couch. She chooses the chair facing him, which saddens him even though it's to be expected.

"If there is no case, I find myself exceedingly puzzled at your presence here so late on Christmas Eve. Hannah must be wondering what you're doing here."

There's an entry if ever he saw one. Might as well run with it, he thinks.

"Hannah's not at home, Bones."

"You mean, she's on assignment?"

Damn, so much for being clear and precise.

"No, I mean we broke up."

The look of shock that passes across her face is not missed by him.

"What?" Her tone is full of disbelief.

"Yeah, it happened kind of unexpectedly," he admits with a sheepish laugh.

"But you two were happy and in love – although I admit, both are transient states of emotion, it still seems peculiar to me that those sentiments would have worn off so quickly, especially in your case, since you seemed fine at dinner three weeks ago."

"Well, we were, at least, I thought we were, but we had a conversation two nights ago that showed me that perhaps I'd been well, fooling myself a little."

"I don't follow."

He sighs.

"You see Bones, when I told you Hannah wasn't a consolation prize, that was the truth: she wasn't."

Shit. Bones cannot hide hurt that flashes through her eyes for a moment. Better wrap up that thought real fast, buddy.

"She wasn't a consolation prize, but she wasn't the person I truly wanted, either. She's not the standard, Bones."

He watches as her eyes widen as she realizes the reference he's just made.

"Why are you here, Booth?" she asks again, this time her tone more detached, a little more steely.

"Because, Bones, it's Christmas, and I have some important things to say. First of all, I am sorry for being so distant these past few months. When we came back, it was harder than I expected, seeing you again, even though I had Hannah, and so I distanced myself. It's not an excuse, but it is an explanation, and I wanted to apologize. I was protecting myself, but I hurt you inadvertently, and that was never my intention."

She looks down at her hands. He can tell she's evaluating his words before deciding how to respond.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Booth. Your apology is accepted. Now if you don't mind, I have a flight to catch at seven a.m., and I would appreciate getting some sleep before leaving for the airport." Her body language is stiffly formal as she stands to usher him out.

Disheartened, but not wanting to push her, he makes his way to the door, grabbing his coat on the way out.

Before he goes, he turns to face her, looking her straight in the eye.

"Look, Bones, I have no reason to expect you'll believe me, but I've never lied to you, and I'm not starting now. I truly am sorry for the way I've behaved, and maybe one day, you'll truly forgive me. Merry Christmas, Bones."

She says nothing as he leaves, but he hears the soft click of her door behind him. He's about to press the elevator button when he hears Pops' voice in his head.

"If the woman you love, and who loves you, doesn't know that you love her, you should start by putting that to rights first. The rest will sort itself out in time."

"Shrimp, let me tell you something. That woman loves you. Just trust me, trust what your instinct tells you, and do the right thing."

He hears Hannah's words as well, the last ones she'd ever said to him.

"Just do the right thing."

Fuck it all, he thinks. It's Christmas. If you can't tell the woman you love that you love her on Christmas, when can you?

He turns and strides purposefully down the hallway again, knocking firmly on Bones' door without hesitation. The door swings open seconds later, indicating that she had not left the living room after he'd gone. It's now or never, he thinks. Time to go for broke. Before she has a chance to speak, he begins.

"Here's the thing, Bones. I love you. I always have loved you, and I always will. What we have, it's real. Real love is knowing the other person, knowing the deepest, darkest parts of their soul and loving them anyway. I never had that with Hannah. I've never had that with anyone, except you, Bones. You bring out the best in me, you challenge me, you infuriate me, you inspire me, and I love you, and I hope that we're finally hearing the same signals from the universe."

She stares at him, struck silent for possibly the first time ever, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Why now?" she whispers, her voice choked up.

He shrugs, nonchalantly.

"Because it's Christmas, Bones."

She gives a small laugh, which buoys his spirits.

"That makes no sense, Booth. Christmas is an arbitrary holiday created to impose Christian traditions over pagan ones."

She's talking squinty. Definitely a good sign.

"Thanks for the lecture, Bones," he teases, before turning solemn again.

"The truth is, Bones, I'd been fooling myself. I thought That I loved Hannah, but while we were happy and had fun, it wasn't the real thing. I want the real thing, and I want it with you, and I don't want you to leave without at least knowing that I love you. And now, you should get some sleep. Goodnight, Bones."

He decides to leave because he doesn't want to overwhelm or panic her, and she doesn't stop him. He's about halfway down the hallway when she calls after him.

"Booth, wait!"

His heart leaps into his throat. He turns to find her walking towards him, and he can tell she's nervous. He doesn't say anything, waiting instead for her to speak.

"I…I love you too, Booth. And I want the real "thing," whatever that means, with you, too."

The grin he's currently sporting threatens to split his face in two. Tentatively, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her in close against him for their first official non-guy guy hug. As she relaxes into his embrace, he gives a silent prayer of thanks for his Christmas miracle.

When he finally relinquishes his hold on her, she steps back to look at him.

"So what do we do now, Booth? I confess I am quite inexperienced in this area, so I defer to you."

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling laugh of happiness.

"Well Bones, I'd say that, we should start by repairing things between us, regain some of the old magic while we make some new and then take it from there."

She considers his suggestion.

"I believe that would be acceptable, although I feel compelled to point out that there's no such thing as magic."

He groans in mock frustration. "Geez Bones."

Looking down at her once more, he finds her eyes sparkling with merriment and joy, and the feeling makes his heart swell. Suddenly, he remembers the package, nestled securely in his pocket. Breaking their embrace, he fishes it out and presses it into her hand.

"What's this?" she asks, puzzled.

"It's just something that reminded me of you, Bones. Go ahead, open it."

She does as instructed, and the pure happiness on her face as the package reveals its contents takes his breath away.

Her eyes are shining with tears once more, these ones happy.

"But Booth," she begins.

"Shhhh," he tells her, placing a gentle finger against her lips.

He takes the necklace from her and puts it on her, fastening the clasp and righting the necklace so that he can properly admire it.

"Thank you," she says.

"Merry Christmas, Bones."

"Merry Christmas, Booth."

And with that, their lips meet, a soft, sweet kiss filled with promises of things to come. Sometimes, miracles do happen.

The End