Sometimes you just sit and think. The thoughts that invade your mind are not always pleasant ones, but they still need to be processed. They keep repeating in your head so many times that they suddenly become the only truth you know. It has been so long since I've had anyone. If you've chosen to sit on a park bench on a clear and cold December evening, you can feel your fingers and toes getting numb. If you have stayed in your office after you've watched everyone else leave the Jeffersonian, the stuffiness of the room makes your cheeks pink. It doesn't matter where you sit, the same thoughts haunt you persistently day after day. There's nothing to go home to. And so you wallow in that sweet melancholy, almost welcoming it. I'm not good enough.

That is, until you see the familiar figure in the doorway of your office. Even though you don't look, you catch a glimpse of the person out of the corner of your eye. You're not sure whether you are irritated or relieved that he is there. In any case, you don't acknowledge his presence, and you can't even comprehend why.

"You do realise it's after seven?"

You finally glance at his direction and see him standing there, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I must have lost track of time." Your voice is low and even, but you try to cast him a warm look.

"I figured," he nods and walks nonchalantly over to your desk. You feel your gaze following him and you anticipate the questions he's undoubtedly going to ask. What's the matter? Is there something wrong?

Instead he plops down into the chair opposite yours and grabs the latest Journal of Neuroscience off your desk. You can't help the mildly surprised look on your face as he lifts his feet on your desk and without a word begins to read page two of the journal as if it's the most interesting thing he has ever read.

You frown in confusion, until you realise what he's doing. He's offering silent companionship, and it amazes you that he has once again correctly interpreted what you need and want. Just someone to be there. As you watch him reading, you feel an amused smile spread on your face. The man really does have talent.

And so you keep watching him, knowing full well that he's aware of your scrutinizing gaze. As he proceeds to read an article about thalamic neurons, you once again go deep in thought. Somehow the melancholy is not nearly as appealing as it was five minutes ago, and you move onto other thoughts. Am I really this hungry? Maybe Booth would agree to go to the diner and share a plate of fries with me on the way home... You watch him as he tries to spell a long word from the articleand chuckle. Somehow you feel a permanent smile forming on your face.

I am not alone.