AN: Hey guys. This is my first story here. I don't really know if I should post this, because it might somehow be triggering to some people who struggle with eating. I hope it isn't, and some people might take something from this story.

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At the end of another grueling case, Seeley Booth wanted nothing more than to relax at the local diner or pub with his partner. Poking his head into her office in the Jeffersonian, he saw she was typing away on her computer.

"Hey Bones," he called out when her fingers ceased typing, "you want to grab a bite to eat at the Diner?" Her focus shifted from her computer to the man standing before her. His tie was loose and his shirt was rumpled after a long day's work. She hated to turn him down.

"I'm sorry, Booth, but I can't." She paused, trying to ignore the frown that passed her partner's face. "My resolution this year is to be healthier. No more diner food. It's just not healthy."

"Come on, Bones. You can just get a salad, and I promise to not let you eat my fries," he smirked.

"No, Booth, not now. It's easier to just resist all that temptation to begin with. I'm just going to eat at home," she shrugged before adding, "You're welcome to eat at my place."

"It's okay. I'll just catch you next time around. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "tomorrow."

- - - - - -

Like nearly every other adult in the DC area, Temperance Brennan headed straight from work to the gym. Normally she would prefer to do her running on the streets of her neighborhood, but the January weather was far too cold and icy for that. She stepped onto the only available treadmill, adjusted the settings, and ran. After competing three miles on the treadmill, she moved to the elliptical machine for a half an hour before heading over to the rack of free weights. Hours after entering the gym, she left completely devoid of energy and drenched in sweat.

Heading into her apartment, she headed straight to her room where she unpacked and repacked her gym bag before collecting her night clothes and heading into the shower. The heat of the water was a welcome relief against her clammy skin. When her shower was complete and she was once again clothed, she made her way into the kitchen.

She stood in front of the open pantry doors for three minutes. Uninspired, she moved next to the refrigerator. Shuffling things around, she pulled out a partially empty carton of half and half. "I thought I threw you away," she mumbled as she tossed it into the garbage can. Finding nothing of interest in her kitchen, she returned to her bedroom. She was very tired from her day at work and the workout her body had endured. "Tonight," she mumbled as she reached for her bedside lamp, "tonight is for sleeping. Tomorrow is for eating."

- - - -

Despite her fatigue, she woke from a restless sleep at an early hour. After some stretches and yoga, she wandered again into the kitchen. Again seeing nothing of interest, she turned to get ready for the day. Hearing her stomach rumble, she turned around yet again. She greedily ate a banana, followed by an apple (both of which were organic). She washed down her fruit with a large glass of water.

Upon arriving at the Jeffersonian, she went directly to her office in a vain attempt to complete the mountain of paper work that seemed to be a constant, foreboding presence on her desk. As was typical, she was almost done with one report before her partner appeared at the entrance to her office. He paused for a moment, leaning on the door frame before he spoke.

"Morning, Bones. I have a report here about a body found in an industrial waste pool." She sighed as she got up from her desk. Would she ever finish that paper work?

"I'll get my kit," she paused, "and my boots." She returned several minutes later, zipping up her Jeffersonian-issue jumpsuit. She had several layers on beneath the resistant blue material, and she pulled on her boots before they left the lab.

Hours later, she was chilled down to her bones by the January air. The body had been documented and recovered, and was heading for storage at the Jeffersonian. Brennan adjusted the air vents in Booth's vehicle so they were aimed directly at her.

"So what do you think of this one, Bones?" Booth tried to provoke some sort of conversation.

"My thoughts should be withheld pending further investigation of the skeletal remains, Booth. You know that." She crossed her arms across her chest.

"Come on. I just want to know what was shoved in his ear hole," he grinned at her.

"Mmm," was all she said in response.

"What's up with you, Bones? You're not like you normally are." He glanced at her while maintaining awareness of his surroundings.

"Nothing is 'up' with me."

"You seem kinda tired, or, I don't know really. You just seem different."

"I'm not different. I'm actually quite the same. I feel fine. I'm not tired."

"Okay. Are you hungry? We could go to Lenny's for dinner. They have a giant salad bar. It's, like, almost as long as a basketball court." He smirked at his great idea.

"It is not as long as a basketball court. I've been there before. I told you before, I'm sticking to eating at home."

"But it's salad. With a jillion toppings! It's healthy!"

"But it's not organic. Besides, if I go out with you, I won't have time to hit the gym tonight."

"Did you go last night?"

"Of course I went last night."

"So then you can just skip tonight. And how important is organic, really?"

"To me, it's quite important. I'm trying to be healthier, and in my mind that means not ingesting a chemical cocktail with my produce. If you really want to spend time with me, just have dinner at my place."

"That's fine," he nodded. "When will you be done at the gym?"

"I'll just go after you leave," she said as they rolled to a stop in the Jeffersonian parking deck. "I'll meet you at my place in an hour. I just need to make sure everything is secure with the body we recovered today and change my clothes."

"Okay," Booth agreed, "I'll see you in an hour."

- - - - - -

Exactly an hour later, Booth stood before his partner's door. He knocked three times. He heard a thud inside the apartment about thirty seconds before the door opened. She stood before him in sweats. She stared at him for a moment before asking him why he wasn't coming in. She led the way into the kitchen, where Booth handed her a bottle of organic wine he had picked up on the way.

"Thank you, Booth, but I'm trying to cut alcohol out of my diet. It's really not very good for you."

"But Bones," he said with exasperation, "it's organic red wine. Red wine is supposed to be good for your heart, right? In small doses?" He flashed her a smile before setting the bottle on her kitchen counter.

She opened her fridge and pulled out a bowl full of sliced fruit, followed by a bowl of greens. When she started reaching for plates and utensils, Booth interjected himself into her process.

"Is that all you have? No bread? No meat?" She shot him a glare. "Okay, no meat. No bread, though? Where's the ranch dressing?"

"I have some sandwich bread if you'd like it, but I suppose I didn't think about that. Of course I don't have any meat; I haven't eaten it in years. And I tossed the salad lightly with oil and vinegar, so there is no need for ranch dressing. And besides that, I threw it out. It's too high in fat."

He simply nodded, and they began eating. Their dinner conversation remained as light as their fare. He could not even taste whatever oil she claimed to have added to the salad. Booth could not help but watch what she was eating. She seemed to be eating much more slowly than he was. She was taking her time to chew everything thoroughly before swallowing. Between her meager bites she would prod the food on her plate.

After dinner he took the leftover fruit to her fridge. When he opened the refrigerator, he saw that, like everything else of hers, it was tidy. In the drawers were many different fruits and vegetables. Missing were the average American staples: things like milk, cheese, and mayonnaise. He stood before her fridge, wondering if he should bring it up. She caught him staring into her refrigerator and gave him a look.

"Oh, I was just craving some milk. Do you have any?" he hoped he sounded casual.

"No. That's another thing I'm giving up. I'm going vegan this year. You should really look up the health arguments for veganism. It's remarkable."

"Vegan. That's like a crazy vegetarian, right?" he looked skeptical.

"I wouldn't call it crazy. It's a way of eating that does not include any animal products at all, hence my missing milk."

"Huh. Okay, I guess. As long as you know what you're doing."

"I do know what I'm doing, Booth. I've done my research." She paused. "I don't mean to be rude, but I really want to be getting to the gym tonight."

"You want to go so soon after eating? Won't that make you sick?"

"By the time I get there it won't be so soon after eating. It will be fine."

"If you say so," he said on their way through her living room. "Hey Bones, why is there a medicine ball on your floor?"

"Oh, I was doing some sit ups before dinner." He eyed her warily.

"Okay, well I'll just let you go then. Don't push yourself too hard. If you're looking for definition, it's not going to happen overnight," he tried to sound conversational. "Let me know if you need a gym buddy." In reality, he was curious as to how hard she was pushing herself at the gym. Maybe he was imagining things, but her new health plan didn't sound very healthy to him.

Once he was in his car, he flipped his phone open and called Angela. She answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Ange. It's Booth. I hope I'm not bothering you." She assured him he wasn't. "I was just wondering if you've talked to Bones lately, or been to dinner with her."

"No, Sweetie, I haven't. Why?"

"I was just at her place for dinner, and I wasn't sure what to think."

"Oh, because she's gone vegan? I'm sure she'd be fine if you wanted to bring over some meat or dairy. She was always fine as a vegetarian."

"Not just because she says she's vegan. She's also been exercising a lot lately. I just didn't want to think too much of it, you know?"

"What? You think Bren would have an eating disorder? No, she's not the type of person for that."

- - - - - - - -

Three and a half miles on the treadmill, two and a half miles on the stationary bike, and a lot of reps with the free weights, and she was done for the night. Heading home, she felt like she had a brick sitting in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was all that oil she dumped on the salad. As she jogged up the stairs to her apartment, her stomach went into a series of cramps. Racing to her bathroom, she vomited up the last of what had almost been a pleasant meal with Booth. She saw him watching her. She knew something had piqued whatever sense made him such a great investigator. She wasn't sure exactly what he thought he was seeing. Maybe he was just shocked by how good a healthy meal could be.

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AN: Thoughts? Should I expand this, or should I chuck it and stick to reading fan fics?