Booth sighed, pushing away from his desk and standing to stretch his legs. It had been three days since he'd caught a case and catching up on his paper work was slowly killing him. His usually orderly desktop was littered with files, at any moment a stack could tip, leaving him to drown in sheets of paper.

He stole a glance at the clock, wondering, as he always did, what she was doing. Right now, it was easy; she was most assuredly still at the lab, happily leaning over some ancient femur from limbo. If he left now, he could bring one of these files, telling her he needed her signature and then artfully stealing her away for dinner.

By the time he reached the Jeffersonian, his spirits had risen. Booth tossed his keys in the air, humming softly to himself as he approached the platform, which was surprisingly devoid of activity. Undeterred, he looked to her office; perhaps she'd moved from reality to fiction and was pounding out her next novel.

His face fell slightly when he saw her windows – dark. The entire lab seemed silent, deserted.

Booth stood still, disappointment washing over him in waves. He missed her when he didn't see her every day. Even during her most painfully annoying tirades, he still enjoyed being around her. Being with her.

Booth shook his head slightly, hoping to rid himself of his own melodramatic tendencies. Bones left work early, so what? She's actually acting slightly human, he realized with a smile.

Resigned to leftovers and a movie in his lonely apartment, Booth turned to go, dragging his feet as he moved toward the doors.

"Agent Booth!" A familiar voice called from behind him. Cringing slightly, Booth turned.

"Zack?"

Zack stood in the doorway of Angela's office, which Booth noticed was fully lit. He didn't see anyone except Zack, but he could hear Angela.

"Wait, Booth is here? Booth!"

"Hey, Angela." As Booth followed Zack into Angela's office, he found the squints, minus Brennan, gathered around Angela's desk.

"What's going on?"

Angela looked up, studying him a moment. "Actually, we were hoping you could clue us in."

"About…"

She gestured to the table, nudging Hodgins aside so Booth could see an open cardboard box sitting next to a pile of packing peanuts.

"Someone got a package?" Booth questioned, unsure if this was a joke he wasn't quite grasping.

Zack piped up, "Doctor Brennan received a package today at the lab. This package. I signed for it, but she wasn't in her office, so I opened it myself."

Booth interrupted, indignant. "You opened Bones' mail? That—"

"Is normal procedure, Booth." Cam informed him, "Institutions and individuals frequently send remains, artifacts, and information here. As part of the team, Zack could categorize, label, or examine the contents of the box without bothering Doctor Brennan."

"Trust me," Angela said, rolling her eyes, "if we let her deal with it all herself, you'd never be able to pull her away from her office."

"Yes," Zack continued, "so I opened the package myself. The contents however, seemed slightly more personal."

"By 'contents' he means this." Angela said, holding up a small, velvet box.

"Someone sent her jewelry?" Booth's face twisted slightly, "That's unusual, right?"

"Well, it would be downright creepy," Cam concurred, "but, we think it's from someone she knows."

Booth stood still for a beat, feeling foolish for not catching on.

"It's not me," he said, finally.

"We didn't think it was, dude." Hodgins responded, holding up a sealed envelope, "We think it's from Sully."

Booth felt his chest seize, his heart tightening as he took the envelope, reading 'Temperance' in Sully's clean script.

"It's his handwriting," he confirmed quietly.

"Do you think he's coming back?" Angela wondered softly.

No one answered her, but everyone around the table exchanged glances as Booth continued to stare at her name. It was Cam who finally moved, taking the envelope from his hands and setting it atop the black box.

"Well, I guess we'll just leave it on her desk for Dr. Brennan to collect in the morning."

"I can take it to her tonight," Angela volunteered, "If it's personal, she might rather open it, you know, in private."

"I'll take it to her," Booth said, scooping up the box and letter, "I have some papers for her to sign in my car, so I'm headed to her place anyway."

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It was masochistic of him, to want to be there when she opened the enticing little case. Her azure eyes would light up at the sight of whatever bauble, trinket, he couldn't bear to call it a gift, Sully had bought her. Worst of all, it was probably jewelry. And she'd probably wear it, to remind her of him until he came home, came for her. The letter would probably tell her when to expect him. Booth simultaneously wanted to know all and didn't want to hear a thing about it. To know how many days he had left--he knew he'd constantly be counting down, wondering how many more nights he could bring her Thai, how many more times she'd call him an 'alpha male,' how many more…

Too soon he found himself standing at her front door. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and knocked. And knocked again.

"Bones? Bones, come on!"

No answer. Was God looking to torture him? There was no way he could spend the night in his apartment with this thing. The temptation to open it tugged at his mind, whispering all the possibilities that could lie nestled within the box, all the endearments that Sully could have penned to close his letter.

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He thought back over his own gifts, his painstaking selected offerings to her, to his Bones. What had he ever gotten her that was worth anything? Fucking toys, a plastic pig and a Smurf figurine. A tree, a dying evergreen she had seen for a single night. Nothing special, nothing she could show off, though he knew she kept Jasper and Brainy Smurf on a shelf in her office. She could have a good laugh about them with her colleagues, 'Oh yes, my partner got those for me, isn't that so adorably naïve?'

He was selling her short, he knew Bones wasn't cruel, but as he slammed the driver's side door and stomped up the steps leading to his apartment he felt irrationally furious with her. She'd never said anything about being in contact with Sully, never hinted that she was waiting for him to return. Sure, she hadn't dated anyone, but Booth had hoped, wildly hoped that maybe…

He fumbled with his keys, dropping them twice before jamming the wrong one into the lock.

"Dammit, stupid, fucking key," he cursed loudly, holding the key ring up to the light as his door swung open from inside.

Brennan stood in his doorway, looking bemused.

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