A/N: Secret Santa story for thaischrist! Hope this is what you were looking for! :) Will be posted in chapters, all before December 25, of course :) Starts out angsty but will get happier.

She wanted to cancel the vacation. But he insisted.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, she watches him play in the sand with their daughter. Although she can't hear them, she can imagine what they sound like: Christine's squeals and giggles, Booth's chuckles and teasing. She splashes in the waves and Booth runs after her, wrapping and arm around her waist and spinning her around.

She clenches her hand around the glass in front of her, staring bleakly into the water. He insisted on coming, because it was their first vacation together as a family. They'd only been there for a day, but already Brennan was regretting it: shouldn't the first vacation be perfect?

Her thoughts conflict, fighting each other:
"It's my fault."
"He overreacted."
"No, he didn't. I am right."
"But so is he."

She takes a sip of water, warding off a headache, as the door slides open. Christine tumbles in, sun-bleached hair wet and dripping as she runs up to her mother, hands cupped and outstretched. "Mommy, look at what I found!"

Bending down, Brennan reaches for the seashells in her daughters hands, smiling and pushing away the fear and pain nagging at her. "Later,"she tells herself, focusing on the young girl and her childish joy.

"Let's get married."

They were such simple words, so meaningful when said together. They were words he'd imagined hearing on his wedding day. She'd be worried, jittery, and he'd calm her down, telling her how much he loved her, and then say those three words.

Or maybe, he'd be the nervous one, terrified she would change her mind. And she would calm him down, telling him how much she loved him, and then she'd say those words, and they'd get married.

That's how they were supposed to be said. Not blurted out in the middle of an argument.

He leans back, stretching his arm backwards and gently massaging his bandaged shoulder. The bullet had just barely scraped him, but the hospital had called her anyways, throwing her into a panic. She'd left Christine with Angela and rushed to the hospital, desperate to see him. He could still see her vividly: her wide eyes, tears shining in them; her hair carelessly thrown into a ponytail that was quickly unraveling around red cheeks. She'd dragged her fingers over every inch of his body, making sure the only wound was on his shoulder, before proceeding to slap him.

But it was only when they got home that they'd both exploded at each other: she, angry at him for not letting her go with him to the suspect's interrogation; he, angry she even considered going with him.

"I could've protected you!" She'd screamed.

"I don't want you to protect me!" He'd shouted back. "I'm supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around!"

"I don't need protecting!"

"Yeah, well, neither do I!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

She'd left to pick up Christine, fuming, then texted him the equivalent of a paragraph about how he, at least, should've called her when he'd gotten hurt.

They'd picked up the argument in whispers once Christine was asleep, making sure to keep their voices low.

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Booth, I love you. Of course I'm going to worry, no matter what." The words made his heart stop for a dizzying moment, but her next words cut into his delirium. "But I don't want to have the hospital tell me whenever you get hurt, especially since they never let me in to see you!"

"I told you, Caroline said the paperwork is drawn up but it's hard to process. The judge has to make sure we're absolutely committed, in case we break up or something-"

"Then let's get married."

He'd drawn back sharply, as if she'd slapped him again. "What?"

"If the judge wants commitment, then let's get married. That's the highest form of commitment, isn't it?"

"I'm not marrying you just for paperwork, Bones!" He'd leaned in, posture straddling the lines between protective and threatening. "If we ever get married, it won't be just so we can see each other on our deathbeds. It won't be because we want permission to know if the other is okay." His fingers cupped her chin, tilting her face upwards towards him. "Don't push this off as a simple procedure when both of us know it's so much more." Drawing back sharply, he'd spun on his heel and headed upstairs.

She'd slept downstairs that night- if she'd even slept at all, he didn't know - refusing to take the bed and asking to cancel the vacation, or at least postpone. He'd denied her, nearly begging for the vacation. "We need it," he'd said. "We're both stressed."

She'd caved, of course, unable to deny him even when she was so annoyed at him. But these days, he wondered if he'd done the right thing. Being here, with her, was driving him insane. On one hand, he wanted to stay angry at her: to be annoyed, to win this argument because he had to prove to her what love meant.

But on the other hand, when her sad eyes caught his, when she curled up on the opposite side of the bed with at least a foot of space between them, when she avoided touching him when handing over their daughter...well, then he just wanted to pull her close, to apologize even though he'd done nothing wrong.

He sipped on a glass of milk, determined to stay sober the entire trip. He had to fix this before they went back, and he knew it.

They were holding on by a thread, and any misplaced word could make it snap.

She crawls into the opposite side of bed again, back to back with him. Heat seems to roll off of him in waves, burning her skin. All she wants to do is roll around to face him, curl into his skin.

But she doesn't. She can't.

Part of her wonders if he's thinking what she's thinking, while the other part worries, terrified, if he thinks they're not worth it. She wants to ask him what she should do, what she should say, because when she's confused she turns to him. Always.

But she can't. He won't answer her this time. She's on her own for now.

She doesn't sleep much that night, her mind drifting between realities. But when she wakes to the morning light, it's with a new vigor, a new plan.

She's going to fix this. Before it all falls apart.

Intrigued? I hope so.