Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Special Agent Seeley Booth sat at his desk, hunched like a defensive gargoyle above a gothic cathedral. A clear glass mug and bobblehead novelty stood idly at the edge of the wooden surface where his nameplate usually resides. With a heavy sigh his fingers punted a folder paper football over the makeshift goal post into the basket below, joining a menagerie of improvised pigskins. Booth had been sitting like this for more than forty-five minutes with the same heavy question hanging over his head, 'If she didn't love him before, how could she love him like this?' The remnants of his coma still left gray curiosities in his life, including those spaces occupied by his partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan.
Booth glanced to the taskbar on his computer screen for the time. It was six-fifteen, and he knew Bones was waiting for him at home. It was customary for them to enjoy a beer (or two, or three) after a successful case closure, but he only knew this once she had reminded him of this. Truthfully, he didn't feel much like drinking; Booth felt fuzzy enough. Slowly he opened his top desk draw, seeking a white envelope along the back corner. Carefully he folded back the flap and dug out a four-by-six inch glossy photograph from inside.
Smiling back from the image was he and his partner, donning garish circus regalia. The events of the case were clear, but his emotions were still conflicted. 'Have I always been in love with her?' Booth wondered. The edges of the photograph looked to have been handled with some frequency, and he knew that no man would search out such an unflattering keepsake unless it had deep emotional meaning. Grunting softly, Booth hastily pushed Florida to the recesses of the drawer and punched the large power button on his monitor. Determined he hurried out the door, nearly forgetting his coat. With his office dark behind him, Booth walked hurriedly down the corridor to the elevator. 'If I love her, or ever loved her, then I should be there to celebrate,' he mused.
His journey to Bones' apartment seemed to blur with the fading light of sunset. Somewhere he simply knew the streets without so much a second guess. While there were uncertainties in his mind, the road to this home was not one of them. He knew there was that one floorboard in the hallway leading to her door that would creak in age under his weight. It made the otherwise modern building seem more home-like. When she opened the front door, the light from within would warm her smiling face and wafts of a smell Booth knew only to be Bones would pour into the hallway.
The chime of the elevator sang softly as Booth reached the correct floor. Stepping out into the familiar passageway, he rounded the corner, slowing only for a moment as his foot fell lightly, rewarded with a "squeak" as he reached that perfectly imperfect spot. As he approached Bones' door, he smiled wide and raised his hand to knock. Before his knuckles could rap against it, the door swung open.