Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the universe portrayed in this fanfic. That all belongs to Fox and HH and all those awesome people who give us the wonderful show known as Bones.

Chapter 1: Life Less Ordinary Part I

Note: All lyrics belong to Carbon Leaf.

"Live a life less ordinary

Live a life extraordinary with me

Live a life less sedentary

Live a life evolutionary with

me."

Brennan's POV

In my office the quiet rush of the lab resounds around me. Rain pounds the building from outside, driving down in large sheets, the daggers of silver pelting the ground with shivery, cold needles.

I spread my fingers out on the desk in front of me and study my hands. My small shapely hands that can reconstruct a skull out of the tiniest fragments without so much a twitch give a little tremor. I have been uneasy in my alone time these days. I am not good at being vulnerable, exposed.

I sigh like a defeated child and place them back into my lap. Things have been different since my completely irrational confession of my feelings to Booth. Things have been different...and yet the same. I have started to loathe my time alone with myself because I have been playing the common man's game of what if. What if I had told Booth sooner? What if I had stopped masking my fear with science for one second and opened myself to the pain of truly loving him?

No what ifs, Brennan. That is what I tell myself to quell the feeling of drowning I get alone in my bed in the middle of the night. What ifs are illogical. All we have are reactions. Facts. Cold hard evidence. I frown. If only I had gauged my own reactions before, and put myself under the microscope and examined the facts.

Don't sweat the small stuff.

Booth's voice pops into my head.

But this isn't small stuff. Love is huge, horrendous, scary, gigantic stuff. It is basically a verifiable mountain of stuff. So I am sweating it, and sweating it hard. And in typical Brennan fashion, I am going to hold back until I have everything clearly sorted out inside me. A little organization of a lot of stuff never hurt anyone. In fact, I think if everyone organized their mass amounts of stuff the world would run a lot more smoothly.

I frown as I wonder what Sweets would think about that statement. It came dangerously close to being almost some sort of psychological analyzation. I bite back a dry laugh. Love and psychology? My word Dr. Brennan, what is becoming of you?

Well maybe I won't be actually respecting a soft science like psychology anytime soon, but the love/stuff thing is definitely real.

I sigh again and bitterly think I must sound like and old wind-bag or sleepy dog with the amount of air I have been expelling lately. But I know the scientific reason why I have been doing it-sighing releases stress and as much as I hate to admit it, I have been under a lot of stress the past couple of weeks. A lot of stress from my stuff. Very scientific.

Booth.

So many other times I have been faced with him being in danger of dying. One time I even though he was dead. And I how did I deal with that? Compartmentalization, denial, a bitter, snappish mood. How had that not made me realize I loved him?

I take a deep breath and lean back into my chair, closing my eyes. Compartmentalize. That is what I need to do now. Fortunately it is something I am good at, a skill that is part of a subset I developed as a defense mechanism when I was young. So because I love him, I pack the love I have for him away in the Pandora's box I carry inside. There it can rot away with all of the other bad or painful forgotten things.

He will be happy with Hannah. And because he is happy, I will be happy too. And that is that.

Or so I tell myself, in the most logical manner possible.

Familiar footsteps echo a hard click-clack in the hall. I shoot up from my relaxed position and frown ever so slightly before he turns the corner into my office. He seems bouncy today. I, on the other hand, am feeling a lot less than bouncy.

"Hello Wednesday Adams." he chirps, "Don't we just look like a ball of sunshine today?"

Another pop-culture reference. I can never fake knowing with him so I just offer a weak "Wednesday Adams?" before he tells me to forget it and "Buck up buttercup, because we have a case!"

I bristle slightly.

"You caught me in a pensive moment." I mutter as I grab my coat and gear and prepare to head out into the field with him.

"What were you thinking about?" he prods curiously as we walk out towards the doors to the parking lot.

My mind whirs with excuses, but all that comes out of my mouth is, "Stuff."

He gives me a sideways look.

"Are you feeling alright? Did someone slip some cuckoo in your cocoa puffs this morning? You seem a little off kilter."

I offer a smile as I feel the Pandora's box inside of me fully click shut. Compartmentalization, done.

"I'm fine, I promise." Lame, Temperance, lame. Couldn't your fully functional, brilliant mind come up with something better than an "I'm fine?" Fortunately for me Booth doesn't push, he just gives me that wicked grin of his and blurts out one of his trademark cheesy lines.

"Alright then little lady, but your cowboy boots on and prepare to ride. We have a whole horse farm to process for evidence."

I roll my eyes. This should be interesting.