Disclaimer - I don't own Bones or anything else that may be mentioned in this story.

Hey! Guess who pumped out a secret santa Bones oneshot for everyone? You guessed it, I did! This is a part of biba79's 2011 Bones Fanfic Secret Santa.

Specifically this oneshot it ment for Tess (thorteso). The promt was her's and I hope everyone likes it, espesially you, Tess! It's not my usual cup of tea, but I did my best with your given promt :) And I had a lot of fun writing it too. Thanks, as always, to my lovely beta, NerdyGerl. Anyways... I hope everyone had a merry Christmas or a happy Chanukah (or is it Hanukkah?) or what ever it is that you celebrate, may it be Chrismukkah. Happy reading :D

Warning - I was informed by my beta that I should put on of these things for some language in the story! It's fitting though, don't worry! So be warned... a little bit of bad language if you continue ;)

It was a cool night in Philadelphia and Seeley Booth, fresh out the Army, sat on a bench watching the tiniest of snow flurries fall to the ground. He'd look up, choose a flake, watch it fall to its doom, and then repeat the process all over again. He couldn't help feeling like that was what his life had become in the last month. Every time he picked himself up, he'd fall right back into that hole again. It was a process of torture that he just could not break.

'I should go home' he thought. It was the responsible thing to do after losing the money he could have lived off of for months. More importantly, it was money that his grandfather could have lived off for months.

Across the street from where he sat, stood the pool hall in which he'd just vacated with an empty wallet. Booth never lost in pool. How the hell was he supposed to know about that new guy? How was he to know how good the bastard was at pool? Seeley Booth's cockiness had finally gotten the best of him, and boy, did he pay for it. Literally.

Once again the thought that he should go home arose, and once again he ignored it. Something was keeping him there on that bench. 'Shame' he corrected himself. It was shame that kept him attached to the bench. Going home meant facing his grandfather, facing his dumbass brother, and facing the sad truth. Seeley Booth had an addiction and Seeley Booth was no better than his own deadbeat father. At least he hadn't punched out the guy who had taken all of his money. Now, he almost regretted holding on to that last shred of control.

Leaning forward and cradling his head so that his elbows rested on his knees, Booth glared at the neon sign that read, 'Pool hall', with an intensity that could have killed any insurgent, without the aid of a sniper rifle. He hadn't felt this bad in a long time... eight years to be exact. Eight years since he sat on that bed with an open pill bottle in his hands, ready to end it all.

"Fuck..." he whispered under his breath, to absolutely no one but himself. As far as he could see the Philly streets were abandoned. But that didn't include directly behind him.

"Is that obscenity meant for me or are you simply making rude conversation with yourself?" came a woman's voice from behind him.

Turning his head around, he looked up to catch a glimpse of the woman's face, but all he saw were her eyes. They were eyes that could bring about world peace with just one glance. Eyes that could cure cancer with a single, glorious blink. Eyes that could maybe, just maybe, fix a broken man. But no... what was he thinking? Booth finally looked at the rest of her face, that slightly wavy auburn hair, those lips that were the absolute perfect shape, and her nose that curved in all the right ways. Studying her now, he realized that she wasreally just a girl. And a stranger. A strangely beautiful stranger, but even she couldn't fix him.

She was now glaring at him, waiting for him to respond to her. He gave a self-deprecating laugh, looked away, and said bitterly, "You're funny."

A puzzled look crossed the girl's face and she took a step towards Booth, just close enough to be standing next to him rather than behind him. "I wasn't trying to be humorous."

He detected the small sound of hurt in her voice and despite his mood, he felt bad. Turning around once again he put his hand out to shake and introduced himself. "I'm Seeley Booth."

The girl took the two steps that brought her all the way to him and she shook his outstretched hand. "Temperance Brennan," she told him in reply and then took a seat on the bench next to him, adjusting her scarf and coat.

A moment of silence ensued as the strangers sat comfortably next to each other. Far enough apart to be strangers but not so far that it was painfully awkward.

Booth didn't understand why this girl was still sitting next to him, but he wasn't going to complain. His depression and anger had waned the moment he looked into her baby blues. Who was he to fight it? 'Maybe her eyes really do have magical powers,' he thought.

Swinging his head around to look at Temperance, he asked conversationally, "So what is a girl like you doing sneaking up on strange guys on the street at eleven forty-five at night on Christmas Eve?"

As she crossed her arms in response to his question, a hardened look appeared on her face. An offended look. "I'll have you know that I'm almost nineteen years old - hardly a girl." That surprised Booth for some reason. While she looked so young, her face said she's seen so much more. She continued, "And what is that supposed to mean, 'A girl like me'?" She used air quotations. "I'm not some damsel in distress that needs saving," she spat bitterly. "I can take care of myself perfectly fine, thank you very much."

"Whoa..." That had not been the reply Booth was expecting and it was refreshing to meet a girl with so much fire, one that had a pair. He turned his entire body towards her, ready to fight back and defend himself, when he noticed the wet look in her eyes. Was she crying? "Hey," he said softly, wanting to comfort this almost complete stranger, but not knowing how. "You... You're not some damsel... I can see that. And that's not what I meant anyway, you know?"

She looked up, eyes shining, a disbelieving look behind her flushed face. No tears had quite fallen. And she wasn't about to let them.

"I just meant that... well..." He stumbled for the right words. "Shouldn't you be with your family?" he asked hesitantly. "It's Christmas Eve."

It was her turn to stare straight ahead. "Yeah, well..." She snuffled and laughed a piercing, sorrowful laugh. "Looks can be deceiving. I don't have a family. And I don't celebrate Christmas anyway, I don't believe in God. And technically, Jesus was born in the Spring, so this whole holiday is basically meaningless."

Booth didn't quite know what to say to that so he stayed silent.

Temperance wanted the focus off of her. "So what is a guy like you doing sitting on a bench at eleven fifty at night on Christmas Eve?" she asked, throwing his words back at him, her voice still a little harsh with emotion.

He cracked a small smile and decided to hell with it, 'Why not tell some random girl my baggage?' Something about this girl made him want to open up. Maybe it was her eyes, maybe he was trying to make up for hurting her, but he found himself telling her his own sad story. "I just lost all my money in there," he said quietly, gesturing across the street. "I'm not ready to go home. To face the fact that I'm screwed up."

"You don't seem all that screwed up to me."

"Yeah, well... you don't know me very well."

"So tell me." With three simple words, Temperance Brennan cracked the shell that held all of Seeley Booth's darkest secrets.

"My Dad drank," he started heavily. Three words that meant a lot to a girl like her. "He, uh... he wasn't a nice guy when he drank." He looked into her eyes and saw understanding. "One day, one of the really bad days, he finally just left. Me and my brother went to go live with my Pops after that. If it weren't for him I would have killed myself. I almost did it... It was like a year after we started livin' with him and it was all just... too much..." He blinked his red-rimmed eyes in confusion. "Why am I telling you all this?" he finally asked, realizing how weird it was.

"I don't know," she answered plainly. "But I'm interested now, please continue."

Bewildered, he did as told. "Well, um... There's not much else. Life with Pops, it got better. He was great to my brother and me, he helped us. I joined the army when I was eighteen, figured out I was a natural sniper, and did a shit-load of things I'd rather not remember. I did a few tours then got out for good last month. And I've spent every night this week playing pool across the street, winning some money, but losing it all and more tonight." Booth looked to his bench partner, wondering if she would leave now that she'd heard his life story cut down to a few minutes. She had no reason to stay, but he found himself hoping she would. Hoping he hadn't scared her off with his shit. It hadn't necessarily been a conscious decision to be so forthright, it'd just... happened.

"I'm sorry for what you went through." She said it quietly and he didn't know whether she meant his dad, killing people, or both. It didn't really matter, he supposed.

A moment of tense silence ensued.

Then, out of the blue she blurted, "I know what it's like." She sounded unsure of what she was saying. "Not being in the Army, I can only imagine how that must be, but... my parents abandoned me when I was fifteen. It was only a few weeks before Christmas." She said the words in a hurry as she looked away. "I know what it's like to not feel loved by the only people in the world who are biologically programmed to love you. And I know what it's like to live with drunks. Less than a month after my parents, my brother left me too, and after that it was the foster system for me."

It was the first time she'd ever told anyone her story. She'd never anyone deemed worthy enough to hear it. Why that person was a stranger on the street she could not say. He covered her hand that was resting on the bench in between them with his own, giving her the courage to finish.

"I aged out eventually and got into Northwestern with a scholarship. Which is where I am now... studying to be an anthropologist."

Booth didn't know what an anthropologist was. Truly, it wasn't important to him. Maybe one day, in another life, or maybe even an alternate universe, in a lecture hall at American University it would mean something. But for now, that part wasn't important. For the moment, she was just a girl. She was just Temperance.

A thought occurred to him. "What are you doing in Philly if you go to Northwestern? That's in Chicago, isn't it?"

"Oh, um... A girl in my class invited me to spend the holidays with her and her family. They're actually asleep up there," she said, tilting her head back and looking at the brick building behind her. "I shouldn't have come, it's not like I even celebrate and... it's... It's silly really, I mean, I hardly even know her and she's really religious. I don't fit in at all."

"So why did you come, then?"

Truthfully, Temperance had not even thought about why. It had been on a whim, when she'd told the girl yes, and come to Philadelphia with her. Though now, thinking about it, the answer was simple.

"I guess... well as stupid as it sounds I guess I just didn't want to taint my new life with bad memories of Christmas. Does that make any sense?"

It really did, Booth thought. In a way, he was in the same rut. He'd gotten so used to life as a soldier during his time in the army, that it was culture shock coming back, and he was afraid of mixing his previous life with the one he'd become so acquainted with. Why else would he be at a bar on Christmas Eve? No, it had to be after midnight by now, he corrected himself. Why else would he be at a bar on Christmas Day gambling away his money? He should be at home celebrating with his family and being thankful that he was even still alive.

But maybe there was a reason that he was sitting on this bench, next to this girl, at this low point. Maybe hearing her story was supposed to help Booth realize that he could have his own new beginning, that his past didn't have to break him. It was the season for miracles after all. Realizing that he'd failed to answer his companion's question, he finally told her, "Yeah... Yeah it makes perfect sense."

He saw Temperance glance discreetly at the watch on her wrist, and glanced at his own. He was right, he realized. 12:01 on Christmas morning. Simultaneously they started:

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

It was subdued on both their parts, as neither was in the jolliest of moods, but they each mustered up a small laugh at each other. They'd just bared their souls to each other, but oddly, neither really felt like they'd taken such a huge step. Now that they'd gotten that first part over with, it didn't seem so monumental to talk about it. There was still a weight on both of their shoulders, and granted those weights were still pretty heavy, one late night talk with a stranger wasn't going to cure all their problems, but maybe it would be a first step. Something to give them hope that they'd get through their respective rough patches.

Once again at the same moment, they decided on something, standing up with determination.

"I need to get home," he said.

"I should get back upstairs," she told him.

And once again a small chuckle escaped each of them, eventually turning into a full out fits of laughter, causing Temperance's legs to weaken to the point of leaning on Booth for support. It should have been awkward and it should have felt wrong, being so close to a virtual stranger. But then again, they both knew more about each other than most friends did about them. That hardly made them strangers.

As the laughter died down, Booth stood with Temperance's head on his shoulder, wrapped in each other's embrace. It felt like nothing he'd ever experienced before, more exposed than standing nude in front of a girl for the first time. She knew his secrets and he knew hers. They were like two peas from the same dysfunctional pod.

"You feel... safe," she mumbled into his shoulder, sleepily.

"You feel nice," he mumbled back towards her ear.

After a few heavenly minutes, they eventually had to part. She started and he followed her lead, but they didn't pull away completely, only enough to look in each other's eyes. And once again he was mesmerized by them. Slowly they moved in, eyes closing and lips parting. Finally, some unknown force pulled them that last inch to each other.

It wasn't a long kiss and it wasn't a dramatic kiss either. But when they did pull apart, it was the kind that left them unsatisfied, with the need for more. But they didn't indulge.

Instead, they smiled sadly, and backed away. From the start, it wasn't meant to be anything more than just... whatever it was.

Slowly they backed away from each other, ignoring their hearts that told them to go the opposite way. They each tried to say good-bye, but neither could come up with words good enough to break the silence.

She turned around first, and he followed right after. When she reached the building's door, she twisted around, hoping to catch one last glimpse of his face. But she was too late; all she saw was his retreating back.

He did the same, hoping to see her face once more, to look in her eyes for one last dose of magic. But like her, his timing was off. The sight of a closing door was all he caught.

In the years to come, he would learn that happened a lot with them. Bad timing, that is.

But they would get there, he didn't know it yet, but everything happens eventually.

Thank you very very much for reading. A review is always appreciated as well!