By no means my first "Bones" fic, but my first one on here! (I usually post them on Fox's website under the screen name proudsquint for those who are interested). This one's kinda long. I'm not sure why I wrote a Christmas fic in the middle of August, I'm really not. But it happened, and I hope you like it! I may take it down around Thanksgiving to repost it at a more apropos time. (;

Also, around the third section, the song "Winter Air" by Annasay makes nice mood music. Not a song fic though.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bones or anything affiliated with it, nor Annasay or any of their songs/affiliates.

Enjoy!

Brennan sat in a booth at the Royal Diner. Her hands grasped a warm white porcelain mug filled with steaming brown coffee, which she nursed attempting to raise her body temperature. She contemplated putting back on her coat and looked out the window, her bright blue eyes taking everything in. She heard the door open, and her head swiveled in that direction.

Booth walked in and spotted Brennan with ease. He waved and began to make his way through the nearly empty restaurant.

She smiled, and gave a tiny wave in return.

Booth slid in across from Brennan. Snow peppered his dark hair and dusted the shoulders of his black coat. His eyes were bright in spite of their deep color, and he rubbed his hands together quickly to generate heat.

Wordlessly, Brennan pushed her coffee cup toward him.

He smiled at her. "Thanks, Bones." He said, taking a grateful sip. He gazed out the window, his smile still tacked onto his face. He shook his head a bit. "God, I love this time of year."

Brennan elected to watch him instead of the snow falling outside. "I can tell. You look quite happy." She observed.

"I am." Booth glanced at her and then went back to looking out the frost edged window. "There's just something about it, you know?"

"I agree." Brennan said, now peering out at the street as well. "Everything is quite beautiful."

"It's not just the decorations." Booth said leaning forward on the table. "It's everything. The music, the hustle and bustle, the food, the family time…even just the way it feels."

Brennan blinked a few times. "Cold."

"What?"

"It feels cold." Brennan clarified, clearly missing the point.

Booth chuckled. "Not what I meant. I mean, yeah, it's cold but it just feels like…I don't know…like this is the way God wanted it to be. All of us happy and celebrating and peaceful. It's perfect."

"You clearly don't remember the Santa bomber case." Brennan said, not bothering to try to keep the fact that she thought he sounded insane off of her face.

"No, I remember." He nodded. "I watched that man die, of course I remember. But you know what else I remember? I remember how it changed that radio host. I remember how great it was to be with everyone at your place. I remember how you went out of your way to make sure everybody had a good Christmas. And we did."

"But that doesn't take away from the fact that a man died!" Brennan objected. "That an innocent civilian got blown to pieces while dressed as a children's icon! Surely your imagined God wouldn't want the world that way. Especially while celebrating His supposed Son's birth."

Booth stared at her for a moment, his soft smile slipping off his face and becoming serious. "No. He wouldn't. But the good things outweigh the bad. That's what I focus on. Why do you have to say it like that?"

Brennan furrowed her eyebrows. "Say what like what?"

"My 'imagined' God. 'Supposed' Son." He hooked air quotes around the words.

"Well, technically, your God is imagined…" Brennan began.

Booth sighed exasperatedly and sat back. "Here we go."

She continued un-phased. "He is a make believe figure. He exists in the same way that Santa Clause does, held up by a bunch of superstitious people who behave because of Him and want Him to exist so that something good will happen. It's preposterous."

Booth stood. "Alright, I've had enough." He didn't say it meanly. Didn't snap at her or appear angry in any way. He simply sounded – and looked – tired. "I'll see you tomorrow, Bones."

"What? You just got here!" Brennan protested.

"Yeah, and now I'm leaving." He pulled a 5-dollar bill from his wallet and laid it on the table to pay for the coffee they had shared and began to walk away.

He had gotten two booths down when she called his name, causing him to stop and turn, eyebrows raised. "Are you mad at me?" she asked.

Booth waited a moment before answering, wondering if it would do any good to try to explain to her why he was upset. He could have told her any number of things…he had had a hard day, a gruesome case, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night, he had to pick up his son…and all were true. But none as true as the fact that he hated it when she told him things about religion that almost made sense, and made him question everything he believed in. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. "No, I'm not mad at you."

Brennan nodded. "Good." She said, sounding unconvinced.

"Yeah." Booth said awkwardly, turning once more and walking from the diner.

3 Days Later:

Brennan walked carefully to Angela's office, carrying a freshly reconstructed skull on a gleaming tray. It was already December 19th, and she was still as busy as ever. If there was one thing Temperance Brennan knew, it was that death never had the common courtesy to at least slow down for the Holidays.

Angela turned away from her big screen (which was currently displaying video of a Yule Log) at the sound of someone coming in. She looked at her best friend with an expression somewhere between amusement and a grimace. "Oh, joy." She said unenthusiastically. "She comes bearing gifts."

Brennan smiled a bit and set the skull down on a table. "What is that?" she asked in reference to the beverage in Angela's hand.

"Oh." She laughed lightly. "Egg Nog. Not the fun kind, mind you, but you do what you can around here." She set the drink down and took a deep breath, clicking off her makeshift fireplace. "Alright, what've you got for me?"

Brennan handed her the case file. "Booth and I were hoping you could get us an identity. We can't get dental records because all the teeth are missing and there's no DNA so…"

"So you want me to give you guys somewhere to start." Angela finished.

"Yes."

"I'll do my best." She nodded and then crossed her arms. "Speaking of Booth, where's he been? I haven't seen him around in a couple days."

Brennan's gaze dropped to her hands. "He's mad at me."

Angela's eyebrows rose into her hairline. "Seriously?"

She nodded and looked up. "He says he isn't but I can tell. He doesn't pick up when I call, he answers my text with one word, and when we're together he only talks to me about the case, and even then only if he has to…"

"God, what did you do?"

Brennan shifted. "I merely told him that rationally speaking his God was imaginary."

Angela looked at her in disbelief. "You didn't."

"I don't understand why this is such a big deal!" She looked at Angela a bit desperately. "Booth and I have disagreed about religion numerous times."

"This is different." The artist shook her head quickly, causing the jingle bells around her neck to shake. "Booth is very Catholic, sweetie. And Christmas is…" she searched for the right words. "It's special. Especially to him. And you know that better than anyone."

Brennan looked down, considering that.

"It'd be like if I told you that 6 time 6 equaled 47." Angela said, trying to put it in perspective. "You'd disagree, right?"

"Vehemently." Brennan looked confused. "But I don't understand what that has to do with anything."

"No body likes it when someone questions what they believe in." Angela told her. "Maybe you owe him an apology." She suggested gently.

"I wasn't wrong." Brennan insisted.

"An apology isn't about being right or wrong. It's about being sorry you hurt someone you care about."

Later:

It was around 8:30 when Brennan left the lab for the evening, and night had long ago swept over the city.

She shoved her hands deep into her pockets as she located her car and got into it, promptly cranking up the heat as soon as she turned it on. The inside of her car quickly – thankfully – climbed to a satisfactory temperature and she removed her gloves, stowing them in her purse and setting the aforementioned bag in the passenger seat.

Then, she hesitated.

It just wasn't right, her and Booth not being on their usual good terms. It felt…uncomfortable, to her. Unnatural. She had grown accustomed to their constant contact and their close bond. Brennan was nothing if not an intelligent woman; she knew full well that given time away from Booth she would readjust. She did not spend her days in some fairytale land in which she no longer remembered life before Booth (for she did), and now couldn't live without him (for she could), and didn't care about anything as long as she was with him (for that was not the only thing she cared about). She was not, quite simply, loosing her grip on reality. She knew that she would compartmentalize, and, eventually, move on. However, being an intelligent woman she was also acutely aware of the fact that she didn't want to, and that that meant a great deal.

With her mind firmly made up (and her mind was always firmly made up on whatever she was doing), she pressed her number 1 speed dial button on her car's phone and pulled out of the parking garage, heading off in the direction of Booth's apartment.

"Booth." A voice said over the speakers after what seemed like an eternity of ringing.

"Hi." She greeted. "It's me."

"Oh. Yeah. Hey."

Now, uncertainty crossed her oh-so-sure disposition. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No. Why?"

"Oh, um…" Brennan shrugged, well aware that he couldn't see her. "I guess you just sounded busy."

"No." There was a moment of silence in which neither of them knew what to say, and then Booth told her, "Ah, you know I am going to need to get off the phone soon, Bones. I'm with Parker."

"Oh. Of course. I apologize." Brennan nodded.

There was another awkward pause. "Is there, uh…is there something you wanted to tell me, or…?" he left the question open ended.

"I need to speak to you." Brennan blurted.

"You are speaking to me." Booth pointed out.

"I would prefer face to face."

Booth sighed. "Alright, are you off work?"

"Yes."

"I'm at the National Christmas Tree. Can you meet me here?"

"I'll be there in 5. See you then."

"Bye."

Brennan hit the "end call" button and searched for a place to turn around, having headed off in the direction exactly opposite of what she now wanted. Once she got turned around she drove easily through the streets, the streetlights casting shadows in her car and occasionally lighting the whole thing up. She had been for only a couple of minutes when snowflakes began to land on her windshield. "Again?" she muttered. She flicked on her wipers and drove the rest of the way to her destination.

When she pulled up, Booth was standing a little ways back from the tree, dressed in his usual black coat, his hands in his pockets. The lights from the great tree and the other surrounding foliage cast a warm glow to him, and he seemed to either be quite pleased with – or at the very least not at all bothered by – the snow that was falling on him and his companion, a sandy haired boy who was remarkably small by comparison dressed in blue jeans and a puffy red coat.

And for some reason, the sight made her smile.

As she parked (as luck was on her side tonight and she had caught someone just pulling out of one) and was getting out of her car she saw Booth turn to Parker and tell him something, his breath forming crystals in the air as he spoke. He handed the young boy some money, and the boy took off in the direction of a street vendor.

Brennan made her way toward them, snow crunching under her feat as she slid her gloves back on. She stood beside Booth in what was previously Parker's spot. "Hello."

Booth gave her a small smile. "Hey."

Before Brennan could say anything, Parker returned, carrying three hot chocolates. He handed one to his father (along with the change from the purchase), and one to Brennan.

"Oh." She said, pleasantly surprised, accepting the warm cup. "Thank you, Parker. How thoughtful." She knew that it was actually Booth who had thought of it, but she decided to let the child take credit.

Parker beamed at her. "You're welcome." Then uncertainty played on his small features. "Do you need me to leave you alone so that you can talk? You both have that look."

"What look?" Brennan asked.

"Whenever adults have to talk to each other they look at each other like this." He explained, looking at some invisible person out of the corner of his eye, in truth, very much in the same way his father and Brennan had been looking at each other moments before.

They both laughed, and Booth said, "Tell you what buddy, why don't you go play in the park for a few minutes and we'll come get you when we're done." He indicated a small light display in which several children were playing just to the left of the tree with a nod of his head. "Alright?"

"Okay." Parker said with a shrug, and set off in that direction.

"He's very bright." Brennan told her partner when Parker was out of earshot.

"Yeah, he is." Booth agreed. The two adults watched him for a minute, running and making new friends as only children could before Booth asked, "So…what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Brennan took a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize." She told him, looking at him. "I can tell that what I said in the diner the other day upset you, and I'm sorry. That was never my intention."

Booth turned his head to look at her, and he could tell from how upset she looked that she meant it. She wasn't doing this because she had to, but because she wanted to. It had always been that way with her. "Apology accepted." He smiled warmly at her, and then let his gaze drift back to the park.

Brennan waited just a moment before saying, "And I thought a lot about what you said, and about religion, and I realized something."

Booth looked at her apprehensively out of the corner of his eye. "Which is?"

"I realized that there is a flaw in my logic." She admitted. "I've always said that I didn't believe in God because there was no proof, tangible or otherwise, that He existed. There was no logical reason to believe. Then it occurred to me that I was going against my own reasoning, because while I can't prove that He exists…I also can't prove that He doesn't."

Booth looked at her once more, surprise evident on his face. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Brennan nodded emphatically. "It was irrational of me. Objectively speaking, everything you believe could be true."

A smile crept across Booth's face. "You know, that may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"I'm not being kind." Brennan informed him. "I'm simply admitting that I made a scientific misjudgment."

"Uh-huh, sure." Booth nodded knowingly, and then took a sip of his hot chocolate. "Thank you." He said quietly after a few moments.

Brennan smiled a bit and hooked her arm through his. "Merry Christmastime, Booth."

He chuckled. "Merry Christmastime, Bones."

Then Brennan leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the snow fall, suddenly knowing exactly what Booth had meant about loving the "feel" of this time of year.

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