Here is another one-shot from me, I wrote it this afternoon in about an hour, actually I won't lie, it wrote itself. I don't think I set out to write it this way, but it just happened. It's based on the idea of some spoilers I've read, so avoid if you like to remain spoiler free.

Nothing is mine.

Pretend

She stared at the bottle of scotch before absentmindedly reaching for two glasses, setting all three of them down on the table in front of her. Today had not been a good day, actually that was an understatement, today someone she knew had been shot. Shot by a sniper, shot once, a bullet through the brain, shot by a gun similar to one that her partner used to use.

She picked up the first glass and poured the amber coloured liquid slowly, she then placed the glass to her lips and threw her head back, swallowing hard as the scotch burnt her throat. She contemplated another but decided against it for the moment. She looked at the second glass; taking out it from the cabinet was a habit, an action she had completed many times before. It was a habit formed from many late night drinks and meals, a habit that for the last year had dwindled.

She knew Booth hadn't taken today well, he had been there when the shot was fired, he'd heard it coming and had ducked just in time and for that she was grateful. He had been silent for the rest of the day, he had appeared in her office door covered in blood, she hadn't questioned him and she had simply allowed him to fall asleep on her couch. It was whilst he had been sleeping that Cam had been told that the bullet had been fired from a former Rangers' gun, an old weapon that had been registered as being destroyed ten years ago. Brennan had been the one to tell Booth, his face had turned a strange shade of red but still he had been silent. She'd just looked at him, waiting and watching for his reaction, but all he had done was stand and leave her alone.

She wondered if him not speaking to her was her fault, her fault because she had made things even more awkward between the two of them. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to have a frank discussion with her because it had been so long since they had spoken openly and the last time it was painfully awkward. Perhaps he didn't want her to see his reaction to the news. Perhaps he felt awkward because she had realised that she had made a mistake, that she had missed her chance. Six weeks had passed since that fateful rainy night and neither of them had mentioned anything about what had happened, it was as if they had pretended that it didn't exist. In many ways Brennan was glad that it had happened, glad that she for once allowed herself to feel and on a day-to-day basis she felt that her interactions with other people were benefiting from her emotional breakthrough. She chuckled to herself softly, perhaps she should think of it as a breakdown, a breakdown that had lead to some clarity at the end of three days of confusion.

She wondered if Booth had spoken yet, if he had told Hannah all that had happened. She wondered if he'd even managed to change his shirt, she wondered if he had started feeling guilty yet. She knew that there was no rational reason for him to feel guilty, but she also knew Booth, she knew that in some way to him, this would be his fault. It would be his fault because long ago he too was a sniper and he had been there and many other reasons that she would never be able to fathom.

She sunk back into her sofa, closing her eyes.

He stood outside her door, he could hear her moving around inside. He wanted to knock, but he felt guilty, he felt guilty for even being here. He had a girlfriend, someone who six weeks ago he had said was not a consolation prize. That was still true, he still loved Hannah but he couldn't talk to her about what had happened today, she didn't know half of the things that Bones knew about him. Hannah didn't know that he had been a sniper and that there was a high chance that he knew the person that had killed his friend, she didn't know that once he had used a gun like the one that had been used today.

He felt even guiltier as to the fact that he was actually standing outside Bones' door, guilty that she was the one that he went to when he was feeling broken, guilty that she was going to have to see him like this.

He hadn't told Hannah where he was going, she of course knew what had happened today, she had known before the rest of the Jeffersonian, her news desk had lit up like a Christmas tree after the shooting. Hannah had wanted him to talk to her, but he hadn't been able to, he wanted to, but he couldn't, there was just too much she didn't know.

So he stood there, feeling guilty, he sighed as he moved his shaking hand towards the door and knocked softly.

She heard the knock and instantly she knew that he would be on the other side of the door, but she didn't exactly know what that meant. A year ago they would have not separated at all after such an event, they would have gone to the diner together and each of them in their own way would have comforted the other. Brennan would have related facts to Booth or changed the subject and Booth would have made sure that she ate something. She didn't know where he had been for the past six hours, she didn't know what he had said to anyone else, what she did know however is that she wanted to see him, she wanted to open the door. She stood up from her sofa and walked to the door, swinging it open slowly.

There he was, he had changed his clothes, which meant he had to have gone home at some stage, that was a positive. However he looked crestfallen and immediately she knew she was right about him feeling guilt regarding today's events and that was certainly a negative.

He stared at her as she stood in the doorway, she didn't say anything, she simply motioned for him to come inside. He followed her to her sofa and sat down with a slump. It was then that he noticed the two glasses side by side in front of him, there was someone else here, she wasn't alone. He went to stand as she sat down beside him, she was staring at him intently, taking in his appearance as he knew she could.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted you," he managed to say, the words strained, his voice hoarse.

She laughed mirthlessly, "You didn't," she replied, before pouring scotch into both glasses.

He smiled, a half smile, there was no-one else here, the other glass was for him, he settled back into the seat, she knew he would be coming, it was for reasons like this that he was surprised when people called her a cold fish. Bones' heart muscle was certainly much bigger than what many gave her credit for, tonight proved that.

She watched as he tried to smile, he tried but failed pitifully. She handed the other glass to him and clinked hers against it softly before she once again threw her head back and the scotch ran down her throat once more, he did the same.

He held out his glass and she refilled it, the scotch burnt, but it blocked out the guilt for a moment. He held out his glass once more and again it was filled.

She refilled his glass four times before he said another word, before he whispered sadly, "I'm sorry I came here, I didn't know where else to go."

She didn't know what that meant, she didn't know what it meant that he was here getting drunk with her and not with his girlfriend, she didn't know what it meant that he wanted to be here with her, but for tonight she'd pretend it didn't matter, because tonight she was grateful that he was here, she was grateful he was with her. For tonight she'd pretend that things weren't awkward and strained between the two of them, she'd pretend that she understood, because tonight she needed to pretend, she needed to pretend that everything was alright, because it felt like it was falling apart.